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babypinkhearts · 3 months

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always an angel, never a god. - g. satoru

pairing: gojo satoru + fem!reader

summary: is he truly aware of how different he is?

warnings: angst! reader and gojo are students at jujustu high, everyone is safe!!! comfort, fluff, mentions of violence. i broke my heart a little. can be seen as foreshadowing but you didn’t hear that from me.

a/n: inspired by “not strong enough” by boy genius. i fear this is my new favorite.

demeaning is what you would call this.

watching, in something you can only describe as jealousy, as gojo satoru walks back towards you, a shit-eating grin present on his face.

it’s like this often.

infantilization would be an exaggeration. satoru doesn’t baby you per-say, but there is clearly a conscious effort made to make sure you are always behind him. he leads. he attacks. he succeeds.

and then you’re back at square one. walking together, back to jujustu high as satoru rambles about arbitrary topics. missions with him end quickly. he asks, - or, more accurately - orders, you to stay back as he takes less than a minute in exorcising whatever curses are ahead. you never question him as to why you’re always paired together. you know he has something to do with it.

“you hungry?” he smiles, an arm comfortably rested across your shoulders. he subconsciously guides you as you walk along the pavement.

you spare a quick glance at him. he looks content, that expression of satisfaction feeling somewhat bothersome to you at the moment.

“not really…” you mumble, eyes trailing off as you looked at the buildings beside the two of you.

you wonder as to why you’re beside him. not in the literal sense - you already know he’s here by pure will. but, what was the point of missions, of jujustu, when all you did was stay back and observe? you gave up any chance of a normal life for this.

you feel satoru looking at you.

you contemplate for a little, choosing to avoid his eyes. defeatedley, you briefly close yours.

your voice is quiet as you speak. you wonder if he even hears you, your voice muffled under the busy street noise.

"this has to stop, gojo."

the rest of the walk is silent.

•••

your abilities could never amount to satoru.

he had everyone beat - effortlessly, really. there was no process of acceptance for it. you couldn’t mourn the loss of something you could never have.

the god himself, picked from the heavens and placed into your world. clouding your senses, leaving only the thought of him in your head. he was impossible to ignore. the brightest of people that made you feel so incredibly dull.

he was beautiful. ethereal and worshipped. you knew you loved him, pathetically so.

it was obvious that some amount of affection was mutual. he was constantly around you, where he had clearly stated - out loud - that it was where he preferred to be. you basked in his presence.

“what movie?”

your eyes scan the two discs in satoru’s hands. a horror and a thriller. judging by the intense covers of both, you had a suspicion that they weren’t too different.

“options seem… limited.” you mumble, a soft smile on your face as you watch him in amusement. you quickly learned that satoru never really flocked towards a certain genre. he could easily watch an action movie and jump straight into a depressive drama.

“option one it is!” he grins, turning back to the TV, pressing play almost immediately after the disc is inserted. you wonder how he was always so hyper. he could be thrown a boulder the size of the earth and not seem affected. it worried you at times.

you move a little to the side of your bed, making room for him. this was a bit of a routine. a class, training, or mission would be over and the two of you would naturally be in your room afterwards, talking or watching whatever movies saturo would randomly bring.

you loved it. whatever it was. you couldn’t tell.

“have you seen this one?” you asked, heart briefly stopping as you register the feeling of his head resting comfortably in your lap. he’s so casual about it. a hand is gently placed on your thigh.

“no, i just got it last week.” he replies, glancing up at you. his glasses are off. the blue is almost frightening, too compelling to look back at. you refrain.

you hum in response, learning back against the wall as your eyes follow the bright screen ahead. you try your best to ignore the boy in your lap. it works for a bit.

there’s three pokes on your thigh about half-way through the movie.

looking down, you raise a brow at satoru.

he smiles, pleased at your attention.

“who’s more likely to die in a horror movie - me or you?”

you scoff, head tilting back up to pay attention to the movie again. you’re painfully reminded that satoru can be a little clueless at times. he’s an idiot.

“hey,” he whines, poking your side this time, eliciting a slap on the wrist from you. “i’m serious!”

you knew he meant for the question to be fun - he probably asked it because he was tired of the silence. but he was oblivious, you noticed. maybe dense. it had been a long day, you doubt he meant any harm. but, you also couldn’t help but feel he is slightly taunting you. tormenting because he knows how easy of an answer that is. a hand is raised, and you carefully brush his hair out if his face.

“you would outlive all of us, satoru.”

silence comes again.

you feel the hand on your thigh retreat, and suddenly satoru sits up.

you don’t mean for your words to come out as harshly as they do. you’re blunt at times, and it makes you feel guilty. couldn’t you humor him a little - reply back with a smile that is equally as playful? but you can’t compare to him. you don’t have the luxury to be so high-spirited all of the time.

you’re forced to look at him now, his eyes staring you down. the movie is on low volume, dialogue from the characters coming out as low hums. you’ve never seen satoru like this. he’s without a smile, and his lips are downcast in a small frown.

“i don’t want that.”

his voice sounds almost defeated, as if it’s an admission to a thought he hides from. you realize that the conversation has moved past a silly theoretical question and on to something real.

“i hate the thought of that.” satoru elaborates, closing his eyes briefly.

he’s gifted, of course. he’s aware. gojo satoru takes his confidence everywhere because he can. he allows himself to brag, because what else can he do? he can’t hide his strength. everyone knows what he is capable of. he’s not “normal.” he can’t be. when the world calls, he’s there. he puts himself in an incredible amount of danger and is never afraid because he knows he will be okay.

you can’t flaunt your strength the same, and he’s painfully aware of it. he doesn’t mean to belittle you. in all honesty, he hopes it never comes across as that, but he knows it does. you’re not weak, but why fight when he could save you? why risk it? if anything, he would take a beating for you a hundred times over. he’d give his life.

but there’s something so isolating about his abilities. again, he’s different. unrelatable, retired from any chance at normality. more-so than you. for as long as he lives, he will feel the need to protect. the fight is never over. a “god” is what he gets called the most. it’s usually playful, a joke. but hidden in those words is the reality of constant expectations he is forced to meet. a god.

“i know i can be…” satoru trails off, shifting slightly as he crosses his legs. “suffocating.”

in all honesty, since your last mission, he hadn’t stopped thinking about your words. or the look on your face.

this has to stop.

you had looked crushed. it made his heart sink.

in this world of pure danger and inevitable loss, satoru tries to keep his worries at bay. protecting you is a natural response. a weakness is pointless if it is never reached.

and he hated to admit it. an achilles heel placed directly on gojo satoru, the strongest. it made him sick.

“no, you’re not.” you quietly reply, shaking your head. you’re lying through your teeth, but you find that you really dislike serious satoru. it scares you. perhaps there’s a reason he is rarely like this. it feels as though the walls are caving in, and he’s being pushed closer to you, overwhelming you with his entire being. gojo satoru being serious feels unnatural. it’s uncomfortable. but it’s something new. a side you’ve never seen before, and you secretly thank the world that he lets you witness it.

he sends you a pointed look, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips. “don’t do that.”

you slowly nod, smiling slightly. “sorry.”

the dynamic is like this. you obey him, constantly. you’re one of his worshippers. you don’t realize that satoru ultimately does the same thing with you.

he stares at you with fondness in his eyes.

he loves you. and he thinks he has for a long time now.

but what is a god if they let themselves feel so… mortal? he can act the part. he’s defeated everything he’s touched. he’s feared, and simultaneously adored.

so why can’t he let himself have you so easily?

“i guess i’m just-“

satoru takes in a sharp breath, and your stomach drops as you watch his head bow down, evading your eyes. he doesn’t speak for a while, and you assume he is silently asking to drop the topic.

until his shoulders slump, and you can see them start to tremble.

gojo satoru was not a god.

he was mortal, human. as much as the world seemed to think he wasn’t. he tried to convince himself of the same, but it evidently proved to be useless.

you don’t say a word to him, reaching out and letting him bury his face in your shoulder. you can feel him suppressing his emotions the best he can, hyper-aware of the way you fail to feel him breathe against you.

when you turn to kiss his cheek with a feather-like touch, all composure is lost. you feel a stifled sob escape him.

satoru is mortified at the thought of losing you - losing anybody. he realized it when he finally registered how deeply he cared for you.

would being “the strongest” suffice?

he wish he could see the future.

he knows he’s been wrong. but more importantly, utterly selfish. you never asked to be loved by him. or protected. satoru easily gives into his own desires, ignorant as to how it affects those around him.

if the world saw satoru as a god, then he saw you as the most breathtaking angel.

you were more than worthy of his attention. he put you on a pedestal, out-ranking all he’s done in his life. he could live a thousand lifetimes and still want you just as badly. he wonders if that’s normal - if what he feels for you should be as strong as it is. should he be physically affected? sometimes he senses his heart pounding, the sensation intense enough to make him sick.

but he reminds himself that it’s the best kind of feeling.

how many times has he sat next to you, leaning his entire body on yours as he not-so-discreetly searches for your warmth? your touch. he’ll gladly fill his senses with only thoughts of you.

satoru’s head tilts up from it’s place on your shoulder, and he kisses you messily.

gojo satoru is selfish. and he’ll accept it.

if this lifetime is the only one he is meant to spend with you, then fuck it. fuck it all. he will let himself be greedy.

his hands are in your hair, and he attempts to pour out every little bit of emotion he has in his scrambled brain. he can’t think clearly. all he knows is that you’re kissing him back, and he’s fighting the biggest smile.

it’s heavenly.

you part from him after a while, lips swollen and face flushed.

satoru isn’t much better, his breath staggered and pupils dilated.

he attempts to lean in again, but a gentle hand on his chest stops him. satoru blinks, watching you as you let out a small laugh. you feel relieved. as if the heaviest weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and you are free and liberated.

you’re somewhat in disbelief.

this ethereal being has confessed to you. an emotion that is so incredibly mutual. reciprocated to only the strongest amount. a love so infinite that it nearly drove you mad.

satoru smiles. it intensifies.

your laugh is contagious, and suddenly the two of you are unable to catch your breath, faces pink from hope, joy, and love.

satoru will take this.

he can be vulnerable. he must let you be independent. what is a commitment to confirmed infatuation without trust?

he can let himself be human. what a miserable life it’d be without you.

after all, a “god” will be okay with his angel.

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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months

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Cave boy Danny AU where he's half asleep and rambling as he mentions some people back home like his exes (especially Valerie), his English teacher, this stalker of his who he likes messing with, and the annoying fruitloop who's the bane of his existence! They're concerned. Only once he's fully awake when they ask for names.

Lancer is Alfred, Talia is Val, maybe Paulina is Julie Madison but idk, Wes is Edward/The riddler (I'm pretty sure there was a time he had a reddish orange hair. Either way, he was the same model as Danny so maybe Wes dyed his hair to not be confused with the Fentons in this AU), and Vlad is Ra's!

Hello! This actually falls out of my planned plotline for Cave Boy, but I will write something for you that is close to the prompt to make up for it! Hope that's okay and that you like it

Flash sends them a message sometime in the early afternoon before any of the Bats are ready to go out. In fact, Damian, Duke, Steph, and Jason are in class when his message arrives.

Bruce, Dick, Tim, Cass, and Barbara are at work. As the Flash is one of the few who knows what the Batfamily is doing during these hours, it is rare for him to bother at this hour. He would have usually waited until after five as that was when a majority of them became available.

They all quickly check their phones when they vibrate to ensure it's not a world-ending threat, just in case.

Since the messages would be sent to their civilian phones- anyone in the know of the Bat's real identity chooses to text in a very specific code. This way, no one would know what they were saying, and the Bats would realize they were speaking to who they thought they were.

Barry Allen chose Disney theme GIFs as his code.

A gif of Mulan singing Reflections lets them all know that somehow, the speedster has again opened a portal into a different dimension and/or mess with time.

"Why is my reflection someone I don't know?" meant "A double of one of you has crossed over from a different dimension and/or timeline"

This causes a brief ripple of anxiety. The last time someone had a double, it was Tim, and his future version of himself was crazy, evil, and surprisingly capable. It took Tim almost ending his life to beat the guy.

Thankfully, the second GIF comes through seconds later. This one is Mulan's Honor To Us All.

"Please bring honor to us all" meant "The double is friendly."

The last Gif was from Lion King, Timon cheerfully singing Hakuna Matata. "It means no worries for the rest of your days" meant "Sorry for the trouble."

Those in class return to their various lessons, but Tim quickly responds, "I love that movie! We should watch Mulan again the next time I see you, Uncle Barry!"

This means, "We will meet the double tonight."

The rest of the day drags on as they all slowly start to make bets on who the double would be for. They all agree that Cass is long overdue to face herself again. Still, Dick makes the complying argument that Duke needed to have his first "My counterpart from another dimensional/ Timal plane" moment.

They all actively hope Duke can clear another block on his Bat-bingo card. He gets two more and a complimentary tray of any of his favorite Alfred's desserts.

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

That night, they all meet up in the watch tower, each clutching their bingo card just in case. (The game resets every month, and so far, Jason has written down the most accurate predictions. He needed two more squares for a cooking lesson of his favorite meal, and he was out for blood)

They all silently go to the conference room, where Barry entertains the guests. Apparently, they were trying to find discrepancies in their world's history and the double's life to help find which world they came from and send them back.

They were being shown the main rouges to test the timeframe.

"Is that Wes!?" A young male teenager yells. Sadly, Steph swears, staring at her "A new Batgirl from a different world" box.

"We call him Edward when he's not in his costume. Otherwise, his name is the Riddler." Barry answers, amusement clear in his voice.

"Riddler? How is Riddler menacing? What does he tell you, riddles of death or something?"

"You be surprised......."

Bruce gets to the door, pushing it open with a quick flick of the wrist, and inside is Barry sitting at the conference table next to a boy with dark hair and blue eyes. In front of them is a hologram showcasing the Gotham Rouge files.

There are papers and pencils scattered on the table. Likely, they have been writing down notes of the differences they have spotted.

Barry's eyes flicker to them, but the boy is too distracted to count on his fingers.

"Okay, so Wes is Riddler, Val is Talia, Fruitloop is Ra's, Sckuller is Bane, and ugh....for some reason, Spectra is Harley Quinn." The boy finishes checking his notes.

"For some reason? I thought you said Spectra studied psychology too."

"yeah, but Harley Quinn actually got a Ph.D. What did Spectra do? Land a school counselor position? Please." The boy rolls his eyes dismissively, and Barry frowns.

He's never taken kindly to people disregarding another person's profession, especially if it was connected to the educational system in some way.

"Hey now, that's an important job, and you need years of study before you can be a school counselor-"

"I bet Spectra peaked in high school. That's why she's like that." The boy cut him off, nodding as though he had found the universe's answer.

Well.....this was either a version of Jason, Tim, or maybe early Dick, that was a little too sassy but not angry? It's not sad either; it's more like, fed up? Or teenage tired.

"Oh, who are they?" The boy asks, and Barry zips right next to Batman.

"Danny, meet Batman...the you of this world. And his kids."

Danny squints. "Who is your mom, and how easy am I? Because there is a lot of you that I fathered for me to not be easy."

Jason burst out laughing, checking a box. "Yes, someone calling Bruce easy in costume. That's on bingo for me!"

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Double Vision #Basically Danny is not impressed #All his villains are villains here too #That Batkids play Batman bingo #It's bonding so Bruce lets them

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innuendostudios · 1 month

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youtube

new video about Edgar Wright's Cornetto Trilogy, and how everyone* keeps getting them wrong! this video is sponsored by Nebula, a place where you can watch the original version of this video before I had to tweak it for YouTube's copyright bots. (by clicking that link, you can get an annual subscription for 40% off.) or you can just back me on Patreon, which is also cool and good.

transcript below the cut.

I adore Edgar Wright’s Cornetto Trilogy. I flirted with making a video about it ages ago, had a draft of a script, but ultimately decided it wasn’t about anything except “here’s a thing I like, and here are its (I thought) very obvious themes.” So I shelved it. But, in the years since, I have seen multiple video essayists on this here website claim that these movies are about growing up and taking responsibility. (I say “multiple.” It’s not a lot. But it’s more than one! And that’s enough.)

These people are 100% wrong.

Lemme lay it out: the Cornetto Trilogy is not about growing up. It is not about taking responsibility. It is the exact opposite, and that’s not subtext. It is three movies about stunted manchildren thrust into extraordinary circumstances, and each, in the end, is saved - is redeemed - by abandoning his character arc and failing to grow or change. It is a three-part love letter to immaturity.

And I guess I have to set the record straight.

Sometimes making a video about a thing you love is an act of appreciation. And sometimes it’s out of spite.

The Cornetto Trilogy is three movies: Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and The World’s End. All three are written by Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright; Pegg stars, and Wright directs; all three center on a relationship between Pegg and real-life best friend Nick Frost, which makes each film a reunion of the core team behind Spaced (excepting, but for a small role in Shaun of the Dead, Jessica Hynes). The three films span three genres: zombie apocalypse, buddy cop, alien invasion; each features a Cornetto ice cream cone: strawberry to represent blood, original blue to represent the police, and mint to represent little green men; this is a joking nod to Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Trois Couleur films, Bleu, Blanc, and Rouge, which were based on the colors and themes of the French flag (I don’t care what you say, Emily: #TeamRouge); that nod is funny because Trois Couleur is high-art drama and these are comedies. All three are parodies of, tributes to, and actually surprisingly good executions of their respective genres. And the hook, the gag at the center of all these movies, is that Simon Pegg plays a character wholly unsuited to be starring in this kind of film.

Shaun, the burnout, is the wrong person to survive the zombie apocalypse; by-the-book British bobby Nicholas is the wrong person to lead an American-style bombastic actioner; and alcoholic asshole Gary is the last person to save the world from aliens.

And I think that’s where people get stuck. Because “schlub finds himself protagonist of a genre film” is the elevator pitch for like a dozen Adam Sandler movies. The genre trappings may be as mundane as parenthood or mandated anger management classes, or as high-concept as action movie, whodunnit, or time travel It’s a Wonderful Life if Clarence were Christopher Walken as the angel of death (that… that makes it sound good, it’s not, don’t see Click; leave Frank Capra alone, Adam). But all these movies have the same basic shape: an extraordinary situation forces a guy to confront his shortcomings, which always stem from having never grown up. And you probably haven’t seen all of these movies, but if you’ve seen any, I bet you have assumptions about how the rest end: even though “Adam Sandler acts like a child” is generally the selling point of an Adam Sandler movie, they all end with some lip service toward becoming an adult: hey man, grow up a bit; appreciate your family a little more; square your shoulders; clean your room. This is so standard, it was parodied mercilessly in Funny People.

And this was a formative microgenre for my generation! Whole universe turns itself upside down to teach some shitty dude to, like, do the dishes and pay his wife a compliment now and then - Liar Liar, Bruce and Evan Almighty (all directed by the same guy, by the way). So I don’t blame people of a certain age for seeing the first act of Shaun of the Dead and thinking “I know where this is going.” And when, at the last minute, it swerves and goes someplace else, you could read that as a gag, a final subversion of expectation, still the same basic shape. But no! No! Once is a gag - thrice??? Thrice is a thematic statement!

So lemme make my case. I’ma take you through these movies one by one - we’ll talk about the manchildren and the expectations set by the genre, and then we’ll talk about that last-minute swerve and what it means. And then you’ll tell me I’m right and apologize!

Shaun of the Dead:

Shaun is a man in his twenties. What kind of manchild is he? He’s the slacker.

What is his problem? He needs to sort his life out. Shaun doesn’t know how to take action. He hasn’t advanced since college - he’s been working the kind of job a teen takes over the summer for like a decade, lives with the same best friend, has the same petty fights with his stepdad, goes to the same pub every week with the same group of people. He can’t make a reservation, he can’t manage a calendar, he’s a washup. This makes his girlfriend, Liz, feel stifled, trapped; he is a weight around her ankle, taking her on the same date week after week, keeping her from living her own dreams, having her own adventures. She gives him one last chance to prove he can sort his life out, and he blows it, and she dumps him.

And then: a zombie movie happens.

The genre forces him to confront his shortcomings: to survive, and save his loved ones, he’ll have to take action, make plans, be decisive. This is a common fantasy: when you feel ground down by the mundanity of life, you might imagine, oh, if only a crisis would happen, like a zombie virus outbreak, where my normal-life problems like “am I gonna make rent,” “is my girl gonna take me back,” “is my roommate gonna kick out my stoner buddy who’s crashing on the couch” become meaningless, and it’s immediately clear what’s really important, what matters. Then I’d know exactly what to do. It’s why disaster movies work as escapism: a necromantic plague - or at least the fantasy of one - is sometime preferable to normal life.

Hot Fuzz:

Nicholas is a man in his thirties. What kind of manchild is he? He’s the hall monitor.

What is his problem? He can’t switch off. He is a hypercompetant police officer with a rulebook where his brain should be. He’s so good at being a cop that he’s spotting and unraveling crimes even on his day off. He can’t maintain a relationship, has no friends, all his coworkers hate him because he keeps finishing their work for them, and his stats show up the rest of the force so badly that they scuttle him out to the country.

Now you might be thinking, “Mmm. A fastidious police officer who can’t have fun? How is that a manchild? Sounds pretty grown-up to me. You’re reaching, bud.” Ohhhh ho ho, smartass, do you remember this scene? [bar scene] Yeah! Nicholas Angel has a five-year-old’s notion of law and order. He’s still playing cops and robbers.

And that’s a problem, because then: an action movie happens.

It doesn’t happen all at once: he goes out to the country and finds they do things a bit differently there. They are (ostensibly) less concerned with rules than what than the rules are for: if the purpose of drinking laws is to keep the streets safe and orderly, and letting some people off with a warning or allowing kids drink so long as they do it inside achieves that end, the rule can be bent. That’s a judgment grown-ups can make; I mean, they’re the ones who wrote the rules in the first place. So be lenient with shoplifters, don’t hassle people for speeding; this isn’t the Big City, you can use your better judgment. But Nicholas never got past doing whatever Mom & Dad said; obedience, and trusting whoever’s up the chain, is his entire moral framework. He can’t accept that bending the law could be more righteous than following it.

But also maybe there’s a criminal conspiracy murdering people and writing it off as accidents and the police chief might be in on it. Or maybe Nicholas is so desperate for a big case with no moral ambiguity that he’s seeing things where they aren’t.

The genre forces him to confront his shortcomings: either there’s nothing going on and he needs to chill out about procedure, or the department is corrupt and he’ll have to go rogue like it’s Point Break - and this is how he experiences Point Break. [“paperwork”]

No matter what, he’ll have to bend the rules, which he constitutionally cannot do.

The World’s End:

Gary is a man in his forties. What kind of manchild is he? He’s the delinquent.

What’s his problem? Pfffft. What isn’t his problem? Gary is a manipulative, narcissistic, lying, self-destructive, ignorant, violent, thieving, shit-talking, unapologetic asshole who peaked in high school when being all those things was still kind of badass. The greatest night of his life was the drunken pub crawl after graduation he and his friends didn’t even finish, and he’s been tumbling downhill ever since. He’s spent his life ruining everyone who knows him until there’s no one left to ruin but Gary King. So now it’s time to bully the old gang into going back home with him to relive that night by finishing the pub crawl, because, in his own words, it’s all he’s got. And he and his friends have to confront how home has changed since they left - the bars have gentrified, not everyone recognizes them; the defining, epic deeds of Gary’s youth have been forgotten. You can’t actually go back because that place doesn’t exist anymore.

And then: a sci-fi movie happens.

Turns out the town’s been taken over by aliens, and all the people who couldn’t conform to their new order have been replaced with robots! That’s why no one recognizes them! And that’s why the pubs all look the same: the aliens are homogenizing everything! And it’s clear, if they can’t get Gary and his friends to play ball, they’ll roboticize them as well! The obvious move is to get the hell out of town, but Gary keeps inventing excuses to stay and finish the pub crawl, and they sound pretty sensible because the group’s already five pints in. The genre forces him to confront his shortcomings: sooner or later he’s gonna have to give up on recapturing his youth and do what’s best for him and his friends now, even if it means running back to the city where all his problems live.

So there we have it: the characters cross the threshold into an unfamiliar world where an external conflict cannot be addressed without resolving the tension within. The slacker will have to get his shit sorted, the hall monitor will have to break the rules, and the delinquent will have to do what’s good for him. And, to an extent, all three know this! The movies Wright and Pegg pay homage to exist in these stories - Shaun knows what a zombie is, Danny keeps Nicholas up watching Point Break and Bad Boys II, and Gary and friends know bodysnatcher movies so well they have philosophical debates with the robots about whether “robot” is the PC term.

So, yeah, if you turned the movies off there, I could forgive you for thinking that’s where they’re headed. But you goofballs watched them to the end and then made content about them, what is wrong with you???

What actually happens in the second halves of these movies?

Shaun twigs that he’s in a zombie movie and, at first, tries to play the part - his survival plans are miniature hero’s journeys with him as protagonist, wherein he’ll save the day by neatly confronting all his flaws. He’ll resolve parental conflict by saving his mom from his zombified stepdad, resolve romantic conflict by showing his girl he can come through when it counts, and resolve internal conflict by being a man who saves the day. And all his plans suck! It’s just the same plan he always comes up with! Dragging around the same useless liability of a bestie, collecting the same group of people, and holing up in the same pub! He doesn’t save his mom: his stepdad apologizes, resolving their conflict for him, and then survives in zombie form but Shaun’s mom gets killed; most of the friend group gets killed because the crisis does not actually suspend but in fact amplifies their personal grievances; and he doesn’t save the day, just manages not to die long enough for the military to show up.

But… well, Liz wanted adventure and now she’s had enough for a lifetime, so… she’s down to just be boring with him for a while - sit on the couch, watch TV, hit the pub. Beats running for your life. Tensions with the roommate are gone cuz roommate died, but rent is covered cuz Liz moved in. Zombies don’t get eradicated, just folded into normal life, so Shaun can mindlessly play video games with his bestie forever, and it’s not a problem that bestie doesn’t have an income cuz he doesn’t need food or shelter.

The zombie apocalypse doesn’t make Shaun sort his life out, it changes the world til he doesn’t have to.

When Nicholas discovers that, yes, there is definitely a murderous criminal conspiracy inside the police department, he recognizes the only way to bring about justice is to become what Danny has always wanted and go Dirty Harry on the town. It’s either that or just swallow the crimes. But he does neither. He and Danny go on an epic shooting spree, recreating famous movie scenes, taking out the entire criminal organization against all odds, and spouting badass one-liners… but everyone who helps them is a cop, they don’t actually kill anyone, all perps are formally arrested, and they fill out all the paperwork. I think he even properly signs out the weapons. He never switches off, never breaks a rule, does absolutely everything by the book, only… louder. And this violent showdown saves him from the chill town with lax rules he thought he’d moved to. Now he, with his five-year-old notion of right and wrong, is in charge of the police department.

The buddy cop actioner doesn’t make Nicholas bend the rules, it changes the world til he doesn’t have to.

Gary knows exactly how a movie of this sort is supposed to go and spends the whole movie running from it. Friends and secondary characters keep sharing these poignant moments with him, because they know this story, too: yeah, he’s gonna reject help at first, but sooner or later he’ll hit rock bottom and then someone will get through to him. And, as the night goes on, and the characters get drunker and drunker, and Gary passes up more and more opportunities to abandon the pub crawl and go home, these moments take a tone of desperation. They start to sound more like interventions; like, Gary, we all know you’re going to come to your senses but could you hurry up with it??? How many of your friends need to literally die for you to shape up? Are you gonna get them all killed?

And the answer is: Gary will never shape up! To Gary the Human Dril Tweet, his friends trying to save him, psychiatrists trying to treat him, and aliens trying to assimilate him are all the same thing. He doggedly makes it to the end of the pub crawl and confronts the alien overlord who tells him all the technological advancements of the past few decades - all the efficiency and homogenization that’ve changed the face of his home town - are their doing. The Information Age is an intervention on behalf of Earth, a pan-galactic effort to save humanity from itself. And the reason they’ve been replacing people with robots is some people are too fucked up to go along with it.

And here’s Gary, King of the Fuckups, brashly declaring that fucking up is what makes us human. There is no freedom without the freedom to ruin your life. We are endowed by our creator with the right to be drunken, ornery pieces of shit.

He tells the aliens to piss off and he’s so fucking annoying that they do, and they take the Information Age with them.

Now… I know… ugh… I know a lot of people love this movie, say it’s the best of the three. Some friends who’ve struggled with mental health or just being an adult under late capitalism really identify with Gary, and the valorization of being a mess. I see you, you’re not wrong, I get it, I really do. But can we just… not “but” but “also” can we… can we also admit that this ending is… this is Space Brexit.

Like, literally it’s an alien invasion but symbolically this is Gary rejecting the adult world of rules and authority and doing what’s best for the community and that’s how Brexiters view the EU. And people keep telling him “Gary, this is in your best interest” and Gary says, I don’t want my best interest! I am registered in the anti-Gary’s Face Party and I will cast my vote by cutting my nose! I choose to do what’s bad for me.

And, like a true Brexiter, he chooses for everybody.

Now tell me that’s a movie about growing up. Gary collapses human civilization in its entirety rather than change, and in the world that follows, he thrives… by being an immature, irresponsible bag of garbage.

To Wright and Pegg, growing up is death, and these are movies about being alive. These characters don’t cross the threshold back into the ordinary world with the ultimate boon of character growth; all three stay in the extraordinary world. The zombies remain, the robots remain, Nicholas is offered his London job back and chooses to stay in the country. These are stories about normal life spontaneously turning into a genre film, and they are made with deep love for those genres; why would they end with leaving those genres behind? Because it’s what Adam Sandler would do?

So there you have it. I rest my case.

“Okay Ian. Why does this matter?”

…what was that?

“You’ve made your point: these movies aren’t about growing up or taking responsibility. So what?”

Uhhhh.

“Bring it home for us.”

…

“Why do you care so much?

[breath]

I wrote the first draft of this script when I was around Shaun and Nicholas’ age, and “so what?” is why I shelved it. Now I’m Gary’s age, this video’s been in the back of my brain the whole time, but I got this far and “so what” is where I got stuck, again. This is why the CO-VIDs came out quicker, cuz I let myself end with “so that’s interesting!” and got on with my life. But there’s clearly something sticky here, more than “someone is wrong on the internet.” (Also, to the YouTubers I’m vaguebooking, who said these were movies about growing up - I’m way more annoyed at the folks I’ve argued with on Twitter about this, you just made a better rhetorical device; you do not owe me an apology!) (Also, to the commentariat: I am not extrapolating this from like two data points, this is chronic and recurring and has been bothering me for years.)

There are a few directions I could take this to give it some “cultural weight.” I could put on my social justice hat and talk about how the “crisis of adulthood” doesn’t play as broad comedy unless you look like Adam Sandler or Simon Pegg, or put on my class analysis hat and talk about how signifiers of adulthood are, traditionally, ways of spending and accruing capital which are, today, often inaccessible to people under 40.

And that’s all legit, but here’s the real deal: I’m just mad at Gary. The world changed around Shaun such that he could stay a child. And Nicholas ended up somewhere he could stay a child. If you missed that, you’re wrong, but whatever. But to say that Gary grew up grinds me, because Gary chose this. The whole movie is people telling him to grow up, and he says no! He says it out loud! He says it to the literal end of the world. To walk out of the theater and say “that’s a movie about growing up” is more than a mistake, it’s a refusal. It’s trying to “fix” the movie by fitting it into a more familiar shape, so it doesn’t say what it says, so Gary isn’t who he is, who he chooses to be.

I’m being cheeky when I say this because he’s a fictional character, but saying Gary grew up is enabling.

Gary says there’s no freedom without the freedom to ruin your life, which is the problem with alcoholics and libertarians: it’s not just your life, Gary! You live in a community, a culture, and an ecosystem! Your actions - everybody’s actions - impact other people! That’s just the way the world is! You can’t shit yourself at the bar without other people having to smell it. We’re all fuckin’ connected, man! You don’t want anyone’s will imposed on you; you spend the whole movie imposing your will on everyone else! You say humans don’t wanna be told what to do, and then you decide humanity’s future by yourself with no input or consent from anyone!

People point to Gary ordering water in the last scene instead of beer as evidence that he got sober, like that’s proof that he did grow up in the end, which are you fucking joking??? Getting sober is a shorthand for maturity the way buying a house is, it doesn’t signify anything in and of itself! Gary drank to escape the adult world of rules and responsibilities! So, yeah, under normal circumstances getting sober would mean he’s made peace with that world and is ready to integrate. But that’s not what happened! The thing he was escaping doesn’t exist anymore! He literally destroyed it!! People died! Probably millions! Now he lives a happy life LARPing as Omega Doom - no I don’t expect you to catch that reference! He doesn’t need to drink! He is literally reliving the best day of his life forever. And even if it did mean personal growth, the idea that a person could make what would be, unequivocally, the most selfish decision in human history, and then spend his life celebrating the outcome, oh but if he overcame a personal demon in the process then on balance that’s maturity? That is lightspeed solipsism! Who are you if you think that way? Are you all Adam Sandler???

And none of that makes this a bad ending, or Gary a bad character. I mean, he is the reason The World’s End is my least favorite, and I don’t like the ending, but I don’t think it’s bad that I don’t like the ending. Rather than watch another addict pull his life together or destroy himself, we watch a downward spiral with so much gravity the whole world self-destructs alongside him. And that’s why The World’s End is the most interesting of the three: it is a bold choice, and I think we are free to feel however we want about the conclusion Gary engineered for himself. I don’t think it’s valid to pretend it didn’t happen.

In the context of the trilogy, we see that Shaun’s immaturity is mostly a problem for Shaun: he would be, at worst, a footnote in the lives of the people who love him; “yeah, I liked Shaun a lot, but I couldn’t carry him through life anymore.” Nicholas is the kind of overachiever that is useful if pointed in the right direction; juvenile code of ethics aside, he is, empirically, helping the community (within the entirely fictional framework where that’s a thing police do). If the world hadn’t changed to turn their flaws into strengths, they would still be relatively harmless. Gary is what happens when immaturity isn’t harmless, and shows us how a world built by that immaturity would look.

There is an appeal to Gary King, a wish fulfillment. Letting your id fully off the leash because you no longer care what anybody thinks - it’s why some people drink, and it’s why some people would like to drink with Gary. But if that’s not just your Friday night, not just your twenties, but that’s your life? There is a destination at the end of that road, and it’s Gary doing something truly ugly. And we see that ugly thing the way Gary sees it: as awesome. But then you see the reality: the Monday morning after the Friday night. We went out with Gary and he did something terrible.

And I’m not telling you to hate Gary for it; I’m not saying Gary can’t be forgiven. In fact, seeing it for what it is is the only way Gary could be forgiven, because, if he “grew up and took responsibility,” there’s nothing to forgive.

I think this is the only way the trilogy could have ended. I mean, you make stories about boys who get older and older and don’t grow up, it eventually becomes a problem. There’s only two ways to resolve it: you either end with a guy actually sorting his shit out, or you go for broke and show what happens if he doesn’t. And I think some of us boys saw that and said, “no, noooo, they did grow up! all three of them!” rather than say, “haha! hahaaa! ……………shit.”

#video essay #cornetto trilogy #Youtube

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corroded-hellfire · 6 months

Text

Sight for Sore Eyes - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: With both of Eddie's sons having respective issues at school, you feel more a part of the family than ever when all of the Munsons want you by their side.

Note: I thought this up in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, now here we are. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of bullying, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, dad!eddie, older!eddie

Words: 5.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

It’s family movie night in the Munson house, but unlike most other quality times with you and the boys, Eddie can’t focus on the film that’s playing on the television. Ryan brought home yet another disappointing progress report. Not only is that unusual for his eldest son, but it’s also frustrating because when Ryan comes home to do his homework, he always understands it. Be it you or Eddie who goes over it with him once he’s finished, both of you can confirm that the kid knows his stuff. So why are his grades suffering?

At first, Eddie was concerned that Ryan was being bullied. He had brought up to you the idea of teaching Ryan how to fight, but you insisted it would be better to talk to Ryan’s teacher and see if she noticed anything. Mrs. Renner told Eddie that she had not seen anything out of the ordinary, but she would keep a special eye on Ryan. After two weeks of observing Ryan and other students throughout the day, she was able to report back to Eddie that everyone seems to like Ryan and he had no problems with anyone those entire two weeks. It was a relief, but Eddie was back to square one.

Possibilities still running through his mind like crazy, Eddie absent-mindedly rubs his thumb across the small strip of your skin exposed as your t-shirt rides up.

“My powers are beyond your mortal imagination. For instance, my eyes can see straight through your armor. Oooh! All right, that's it! Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Make a note of this. Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow, dis…”

The small, red dragon's rant barely registers in Eddie’s mind as his eyes trail over to Ryan, sitting on the other side of you. His son’s face is all scrunched up as he looks towards the television, his small body even leaning as forward as he can in his seat. Eddie’s brows furrow as he watches Ryan for a few moments, and the boy’s facial muscles don’t move at all.

“Uh, bud? Ry? Can you see the TV okay?” Eddie asks.

“It’s kinda blurry, isn’t it?” Ryan asks, scrunching his face up to squint even more. “Is it ‘cause it’s an old TV?”

You swivel your head towards your boyfriend and the two of you share a knowing look. Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief, a simple solution to an issue that’s nagged at him for weeks may be within reach.

“It’s not blurry,” Luke blurts out from his place on the floor in front of the couch. His Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle coloring book is flipped open in front of him, half colored and half covered in butter stains from the six-year-old’s fingers that keep digging into the popcorn bowl. “TV’s fine,” Luke follows up, spewing a few kernels out of his full mouth.

Movie pushed from your mind at this new revelation you may have stumbled upon, you turn yourself on the couch to face Ryan better. Eddie adjusts his arm that was around you to simply wrap his arm around your middle and lets his fingers glide softly over the cotton of your t-shirt.

“Um, Ryan?” you ask, watching his adorable little face as it pinches up this way and that to watch the animated singing soldiers on the television. “Where do you sit in your class?”

Now Ryan’s face just scrunches up in confusion; to him, this question came out of nowhere.

“By the bulletin board and the bathroom key hanging on the wall. Right behind Lorraine Poe,” he says.

“Oh, sweetie, no, I meant, like, towards the front, towards the back…” you trail off.

“Kinda middle I guess,” Ryan answers with a shrug, turning back towards the movie.

Eddie lets out a gentle sigh and you lean your body back against his. His large, warm hand rubs over your belly for a moment as he watches his son’s profile.

“Can you see the board okay?” Eddie asks. “At school?”

“Sometimes,” Ryan answers, the song in the movie pulling most of his focus.

“Sometimes?” his dad questions.

“Yeah. Sometimes my teacher writes so small that I can’t always see what it says, though.”

You frown and tilt your head down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“Have any of the other kids said anything about her writing being too small?” you ask.

“No.”

“Ry?” Eddie clears his throat. “I think maybe we should take you to an eye doctor.”

This captures the eight-year-old’s attention back from the screen. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. It makes your heart ache at how small and vulnerable he looks like this, the fear of going to the doctor evident on his cherubic face.

“Why?” he asks softly.

“Well, it sounds like you’re having trouble seeing. The board at school is blurry, the television here is blurry,” Eddie points out.

“I don’t want to go.” Ryan shakes his head.

“Why not, sweetie?” you ask as you reach forward to move some hair off of his forehead.

Ryan’s fingers start to fidget where they’re pressed up against his jeans and he begins to gnaw on his lower lip—a few nervous habits he picked up from his father.

“What if there’s something wrong with my eyes?” he asks in a small voice.

“Ryan, honey.” You lean forward out of Eddie’s grip so you can wrap your arms around the eldest Munson brother. “There is nothing wrong about needing some help to see. Plenty of people do.” You hold him against your chest and rub your hand up and down his arm soothingly.

“I don’t want glasses,” he mumbles.

Being a kid is hard enough already. Add how soft spoken Ryan is and add new glasses on top of it, and you can understand where he’s coming from. Some jerky kids might say some mean things. But that’s not a reason he shouldn’t get his eyes checked out.

“Hmm,” you muse. “You know, I can think of a very special little boy who wears glasses. He’s probably the coolest kid there is besides you and Luke.”

“Who?” Ryan is clearly curious, but still hesitant about where you’re going with this.

“You don’t know?” you ask him with a smile. “You only read about him every night before you go to bed.”

Ryan gasps in delight, sitting straight up in your arms.

“Harry Potter!” The excitement on his face has your heart gushing from the inside out.

“The Boy Who Lived!” you cheer. “He’s a super powerful wizard and he needs glasses to see.”

A shy but genuine smile starts to appear on Ryan’s face and Eddie subtly gives your waist a small squeeze of appreciation.

“There’s also Superman,” Eddie adds.

“Clark Kent wears the glasses,” Luke corrects his father, eyes never leaving the TV. You do your best to hold in a giggle; wherever Eddie’s geeky knowledge ends, Luke’s begins.

“And Clark Kent is Superman,” Eddie says, picking up a piece of popcorn and tossing it at the back of Luke’s head.

Ryan seems more at ease now, his body posture more relaxed and less rigid as he settles back into the couch cushions. You go to snuggle back into Eddie’s side when Ryan looks up at you with those big brown eyes that are identical to his father’s and slips his small hand into yours.

“Will you go with me?” he asks, voice soft.

You could almost cry at the question. He wants you to go with him. The love and trust he has in you in this moment of fear and uncertainty means the world to you. Eddie doesn’t miss the emotion on your face at the comfort you bring to his son. He knows he’s so lucky to have you, the woman of his dreams, but the fact that you and the kids wholeheartedly love each other as well? It’s enough to make Eddie tear up any time he thinks about it for too long.

Before you give Ryan an answer, you look at Eddie, wanting to make sure that this is okay with him and that you’re not overstepping. Eddie gives you a nod, his eyes shining with pure adoration.

“Of course I will, Ry.” You press a kiss to the top of his head, and he then lays it down on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he answers, just loud enough for you to hear.

There’s no reason he has to thank you. This moment, this trust and love he’s giving to you as a parental-type role means the world to you. You’re clearly not the babysitter anymore—you’re their dad’s girlfriend, but a new relationship is blossoming between you and the boys as well. The strong ties that always bonded you and the kids are being bronzed, never to fray or be broken. This is starting to feel in the neighborhood of motherly and it feels more amazing than you could have imagined.

Ryan keeps his hand in yours the entire time you sit in the waiting room of the tiny optometrist’s office. The fact that you’re his comfort in this situation has you practically beaming enough to be one of the models on the posters that surround you of people who are overly excited to have a new pair of glasses. Ryan has always loved and felt safe with you, but this is different, and you both know it—even if neither of you know how to put it into words.

“Ryan Munson?”

His small hand is surprisingly strong as he grips yours like a lifeline at the sound of his name. Before you stand up, you lean in to whisper in his ear.

“I’m going to be right next to you the whole time. I promise.”

The words have Ryan loosening his vice grip just enough that you’re able to feel your fingers again. The two of you are led into a small office that has model after model of the human eye and a large chair directly in the middle of the room.

“You must be Ryan,” the doctor says as he steps into the office and shuts the door behind him. He’s an attractive man with a kind smile, right around Eddie’s age. “I’m Dr. Barnes. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Ryan gives him a nervous smile as he climbs into the large chair. “Nice to meet you too.”

You take a seat in a yellow hard plastic chair near the door and the doctor turns around to introduce himself to you as well. After he shakes your hand, his attention goes back to his patient.

“Tell me a little bit about what’s been going on with your eyes, Ryan,” Dr. Barnes says as he sits down on a rolling stool.

The boy shifts in the large chair, the nervousness still very prevalent. “Um, well I-I haven’t been able to see the board very good at school. A-And at home the TV is all blurry.”

“Well, we definitely have to fix that!” Dr. Barnes says with a sympathetic sigh. “Gotta be able to do your work at school and then come home and watch cartoons. It’s a good thing your mom brought you in.”

You freeze, half a sputter coming from out of your mouth because you don’t know what to say. It’s a logical assumption on the doctor’s part, but if you let it slip by without correcting him will Ryan think that’s weird? If you correct the doctor will Ryan take that as meaning you don’t want to be called his mother? Or would Ryan feel like you’ve crossed a boundary if you just go on letting Dr. Barnes think that you’re his mom?

“She’s the best,” Ryan says, saving you from speaking at all. The anxiety immediately leaves your body at his words. The way Ryan smiles at you from his chair while the doctor sets things up has your heart soaring. His look practically says, yeah, I said you’re my mom because that’s what I want.

Somehow you manage to keep it together without crying—you’ll do that in front of Eddie later. Dr. Barnes turns out the main lights and puts a focused light on an eye chart just above your head. You watch as he tests Ryan’s vision by looking at different charts and signs full of numbers and letters of all sizes before he lowers the phoropter in front of the eight-year-old’s face. Ryan almost goes cross eyed trying to look at the machine as it gets closer to him, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I’m gonna show you two different lenses and you tell me which one is clearer while looking at that chart. Sound good?” Dr. Barnes asks.

“Uh huh,” Ryan says as tries to find the right angle to look into the machine. His voice is much steadier now.

“One or two?”

“Uh…one.”

Multiple strengths are tried out and it seems like Dr. Barnes asks Ryan to pick between “one and two” about a million times. Even you’re getting fidgety in your seat by the end of it, so you can only imagine how antsy Ryan is.

It was pretty evident to you that Ryan would end up needing glasses, but the little boy looks less than thrilled when the two of you head back out into the main area so you can find some frames.

After spotting a few pairs that he likes, Ryan starts to find it fun, seeing which ones look better on him and which ones make him look silly. In the end, he settles on two different sets of frames—which Eddie already said he’s cool with because he’d bet good money that one pair would either get lost or broken before the year is out.

As you’re paying, Dr. Barnes makes sure the copy of Ryan’s prescription is all filled out before he hands it to you. The paperwork comes with a smoldering smile from the optometrist, and as flattering as it may be, it still makes you feel a tad awkward.

“I suppose I’ll see you back here in a few weeks, huh?” Dr. Barnes asks, directing the question at you instead of Ryan.

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard by the flirting. You look down and shake your head, but you see your ringless hand and understand why the man probably thinks you’re a single mom. “His dad,” you start, wrapping your arm around Ryan’s shoulders, “he, um, my boyfriend will probably be the one coming here to pick up the glasses with Ryan.”

“Ah,” Dr. Barnes says with a nod. “I guess I’ll see you soon then, Ryan.”

You look down to see Ryan squeezing his lips together, trying not to laugh as he nods his affirmation. He clearly understands what just happened and his expression makes it difficult for you to keep your laughter held in as well.

The glasses will be ready in about two weeks and the little Munson doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that he has to wear them anymore.

After the eye doctor, you take Ryan out for lunch at Schoop's Hamburgers, just the two of you. Both of you order milkshakes and you hold a finger up to your cold lips.

“Don’t tell Luke or your dad, they’ll be so jealous!”

Ryan just giggles and takes another sip of his strawberry shake while trailing an “X” over his heart with his right index finger.

“Daddy’s taking me to pick the glasses up?” Ryan asks as you’re throwing away your garbage.

“Maybe,” you admit with a shrug. “Depends on our schedules that week. But I have a feeling your dad will want to be the one to take you.”

“Because the doctor wanted to kiiiiiiss you?” Ryan asks in a mischievous little voice that you’d expect from Luke more than him.

“Yes,” you acquiesce with a chuckle. “But I’m sure he’s just as excited to see what your new glasses look like.” But it’ll definitely be mostly about Doctor McFlirty, you think.

When you get home, Eddie’s at the kitchen table, looking over some bills. As soon as you and Ryan walk through the door, Eddie pushes it to the side and stands up.

“Hey, how’d the appointment go?” Eddie looks back and forth from you to Ryan, not sure which one of you will speak first.

“He did great,” you tell Eddie, throwing a wink Ryan’s way.

“I picked out some glasses and they’ll be ready in two weeks!” he proudly tells his dad. Then his eyes light up and he lets out a small giggle. “And the doctor wanted to steal your girlfriend, Daddy.”

“What?” Eddie’s immediately defensive and looks towards you, eyebrows raised.

You can’t help but giggle right alongside Ryan at Eddie’s expression. “He tried flirting with me, but I told him I was with you.”

“He was bummed,” Ryan adds.

“I’m taking you to pick those glasses up,” Eddie tells his son, jabbing his thumb into his t-shirt clad chest.

“You were right!” Ryan says with a laugh, looking over at you.

“Do I know your Dad or what?” you ask as the two of you high five one another.

A couple of weeks later, the glasses are finally in. Eddie takes Ryan by the office after he gets off work to go pick them up.

The smell of roasting garlic fills the air as you make dinner and Luke is watching television when they get home. Ryan bounces in, excited about his new glasses. There’s a proud gleam in his eye as he stands in the middle of the entryway, taking in the view of the apartment clearly for the first time in a while.

“Let me see, let me see!” you say as you step out of the kitchen. “Aw, Ry! They look even better than the display ones you tried on at the store!”

The rectangular black frames complement his dark eyes and honey brown hair. You’re overcome with how handsome of a young man your little Ryan is turning into.

Luke kneels on the couch cushion and turns around to see his brother.

“Lemme see.”

Ryan does a one-eighty to show his little brother. All Luke does is give him a thumbs up before he goes back to watching The Fairly Odd Parents.

“It feels kind of funny,” Ryan tells you, rubbing his left eye beneath the glasses. You can already see fingerprint smudges on the lenses and you’re grateful you remembered to buy lens cleaning cloths the last time you went grocery shopping. “What does? What feels funny?” you ask.

“Seeing things that are far away!” he says, both excitement and a slight bit of irritation in his usually calm tone. “Almost makes me a little dizzy.”

“Doctor said that’s normal,” Eddie says, resting his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Your eyes will get used to them real quick, then it won’t feel that way.” He raises an eyebrow and looks at you. “And this doctor also seemed a bit nervous around me.”

You giggle and bound over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “He’s threatened by what a wonderful, sexy man you are.”

“Gross,” Luke mumbles from the couch.

Soda almost sprays out of your nose at Eddie’s story about a difficult customer who came into work this morning, when one of his co-workers pops his head into the breakroom.

“Hey, Eddie,” he says, rubbing a hand over his bald head, leaving small streaks of grime behind. “There’s a phone call for you.”

“Oh, okay,” Eddie says. He crumples up the tin foil you brought his sandwich in and tosses it in the large trashcan behind him. Not in a particular hurry, Eddie stands up and stretches his arms over his head. He smirks and presses a quick kiss to your lips when he sees you checking him out. Your gaze continues to look him up and down as he takes the few steps over to the phone on the wall.

“Hello?” Eddie asks.

The chicken sandwich lying on the table in front of you looked good when you first arrived to have lunch with your boyfriend, but now that you’re full it looks as if it’s taunting you. Crinkling fills the room as you pack it back up in its foil. Just as you’re lifting your can of diet Dr. Pepper to your lips, Eddie’s face clouds with worry and he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll be right there,” he says into the phone.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, slipping your leftovers into your large black purse. As Eddie hangs the phone back up, you walk over to stand at his side, careful of getting your clothes dirtied by his coveralls.

Instead of answering you, Eddie lets out another sigh and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Gimme a second, baby.”

You watch, confused, as Eddie steps across the hall into his boss’s office. There seems to be a short, quick conversation before your boyfriend comes back out and slips his hand into yours.

“It was the school,” Eddie tells you as he leads you towards the exit and out into the parking lot.

“Are the boys okay?” you ask, feeling your heart rate pick up as you walk briskly towards his truck.

“Luke’s in the principal’s office,” Eddie tells you with an agitated huff. “He got into a fight.”

“He what?” Your eyes almost pop out of your head. “Is he okay?”

“Just a little banged up, according to the principal,” Eddie says as he opens the passenger side door for you.

“Poor baby.”

Long strides lead Eddie around his truck, and he situates himself in the driver’s seat. He gives a humorless chuckle as he starts the engine.

“Wayne wasn’t fucking kidding when he said Luke is a little version of me.”

“First of all, we all say that,” you tell him. “Second of all, you fought at school?”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says with a soft laugh as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “Remind me to tell you some stories when we get home.”

When you get to the school, you and Eddie practically jump out of the truck and head towards the building. Once you’re both inside, you feel rough calloused fingers tangle with your own. His eyes are straight ahead but you can tell Eddie’s nerves are on edge as he gives your hand a soft squeeze.

Luke is sitting on the bench outside of the principal’s office, his legs dangling over the edge, swinging back and forth. He’s watching his black and white sneakers disappear beneath the wooden seat before reappearing again, taking no notice of you coming down the hall. Only his profile is visible from the angle you’re approaching from.

“Luke,” Eddie says as the two of you walk up to him.

The young boy jumps off the bench and turns to face the two of you. You’re startled to see his eye already bruised and purpling, along with a small cut on his bottom lip. There’s the instinct to pull him into your arms and take care of him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. But Luke’s grinning up at the pair of you; a stark contrast to the evidence of the brawl on his face.

“Oh, hi! They told me they called Daddy, but I didn’t know both of you were coming!” The excitement on his face to see both of you is adorable yet seems out of place since he must know he’s going to get in trouble.

“Luke, what happened?” Eddie asks at the same time that you ask, “Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Luke answers your question with a shrug. “My hand hurts more than anything.” The boy cradles his right hand against his chest and it’s the first time you see his scraped and bruised knuckles.

“What happened?” Eddie asks again, this time with less patience.

Luke’s eyebrows furrow, a little “v” creasing his forehead. The pride from the fight vanishes from his eyes as he recalls the situation.

“Stupid Trevor Brown opened his big fat mouth on the playground!” Luke says sternly, even louder than he usually is. “He said to Brandon Simpson that Ryan’s glasses made him look like a loser.”

“So you hit him?” Eddie asks.

“No, I told him he better shut his damn—uh, dang mouth. Trevor just laughed and said Ryan was a nerd! Then I hit him.”

Eddie sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes closed. Secretly, he’s proud of his son for sticking up for his brother, but he has to compose himself so he can tell Luke he shouldn’t have done that. The paradox of being a parent.

“Luke, you should have told a teacher instead,” Eddie tells him. “Hitting someone is not the way to shut them up.”

“Well, punching him in the mouth did the trick,” Luke points out.

You try not to laugh, covering it up with a cough. Eddie’s better at keeping himself composed but you know he would be grinning if he could.

A door squeaks open and the principal steps out of his office with another young boy, a huge bruise blooming on his jaw and dried blood caked under his nose. Luke definitely came out the winner of the fight.

“You sit here and wait for your mom now, Trevor,” Principal Andrews says, gesturing to the bench Luke was just sitting on. “Ah, Mr. Munson. Thank you for coming.”

“And this is his girlfriend!” Luke announces proudly, coming to stand in front of you. The small boy is wiggling his way out of any trouble with you by seeming so thrilled to have you there and showing you off proudly.

Eddie nods his head at the principal, ignoring Luke, and shakes the man’s hand. You gently pat Luke’s curls, hoping he takes the hint to shut up.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” Eddie says, and you silently wonder how many times Wayne had to say that to Eddie’s principal growing up. “This one is in for it, I’ll tell you that.” Eddie nods his head towards Luke. “Can someone just let Ryan know Luke won’t be on the bus coming home?”

“Of course,” Principal Andrews says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Luke. We’ll be better behaved then, won't we?”

Luke turns to head down the hall without answering, but Eddie grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls him back. He puts his hands on Luke’s shoulders and spins him around until he’s facing the principal again.

“Luke,” Eddie warns him.

“Yes, Principal Andrews,” Luke says in a monotone, eyes on the shiny white linoleum tile below his sneakers. Deciding he’s done with talking, he slips his smaller hand into yours, deciding he’d rather hold your hand than his father’s right now.

“Thanks again, Principal Andrews,” Eddie says before the three of you walk down the hallway towards the exit.

It’s utterly silent until you get into Eddie’s truck. You’re not sure what to say, because this is between father and son. Eventually, you decide you’ll just be a referee if it comes to that.

Eddie silently pulls the truck out of the parking lot and starts to head home.

“Luke,” Eddie finally says after seven minutes of terse silence. It feels like he’s said his son’s name about a hundred times already today. “I don’t like that you hit someone. But I am proud of you for sticking up for your brother.”

In the rearview mirror, Eddie can see how Luke grins at that, which makes Eddie smile in turn.

“I wasn’t gonna let those buttheads talk that way about my brother,” Luke says. “I know I’m not s’posed to hit—I do. But if someone says something about a person I love, I just get so mad, and it comes out all violent.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, loud enough for only you to hear. “He is my mini-me.”

When you get home, you take Luke into the bathroom so you can clean up and bandage his wounds. His knuckles are still sore and stinging when you finish, so he sits on the couch with a bag of frozen corn on them. Eddie plops down next to him as you lean against the wall between the bathroom and living room, wiping off some antibacterial ointment that you accidentally got on your own hands.

“You know I have to punish you, right?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at his youngest son.

“I know,” Luke says with a sigh.

“I want you to go in your room until dinner time. Try and work on your homework if your hand starts to feel any better. And no dessert after dinner tonight.”

“And then?” Luke asks, looking up at his dad nervously, afraid of how long he’s going to be grounded.

“And then tomorrow you wake up, get ready for school, and keep being a wonderful brother.”

It takes a minute, but a smile slowly spreads to Luke’s face as he realizes there’s no punishment besides the minor consequences he’ll have to endure tonight.

“Now, go on. Get to your room,” Eddie says.

Luke gets up and heads towards the hallway before stopping and turning back to face his father.

“Don’t tell Ryan what happened, okay?” Luke says, wincing at the chill from the vegetable bag against his scrapes. “I don’t want him to know that someone said mean things about him.”

“I won’t tell him,” Eddie assures his son. Luke turns back towards the hallway, but Eddie calls him and he faces his dad again. “You’re a really good brother. Ryan is very lucky to have you, and I know he’d have your back too. I’m very lucky.”

“Aww, Dad,” Luke says, wrinkling up his nose. “So mushy. But… I know I’m lucky too. Always felt that having you and Ryan. Never with Mom though. But now I got someone pretty cool who loves me like I’m her kid and that’s even better.”

Luke continues down to his room and Eddie is filled with the overwhelming feeling of love. Love from the kind words from Luke—which are rare within themselves–the love that his two sons have for one another and that special bond, and love at the fact that Luke recognizes that you love him and Ryan as if they’re your own children. You practically see them that way anyway.

You walk in from where you’re holding up the wall, emotional yourself over Luke’s words, and take a seat next to your boyfriend on the couch.

“How ya feeling?” you ask, bringing your hand up to play with one of Eddie’s stray curls.

“I’m so fucking proud of my son,” Eddie admits with a hushed laugh. “I know I had to tell him the whole ‘violence isn’t the answer’ spiel, but I would’ve done the exact same thing that he did. When I was a kid or even now.”

“He’s such a good brother,” you say, an adoring grin on your face as well.

Eddie wraps his arm around you, and you snuggle into his side.

“So, I believe you had some stories to tell me?” You tilt your head up to smirk at your boyfriend.

Eddie chuckles and gives a shake of his head. “Oh, you better buckle up, princess. I’ve got some wild tales.”

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

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velvetmud · 10 months

Note

i wanna see what happens when the reader is tempting joel, all innocent smiles whilst she drives him over the edge with her subtle teasing

I got pretty colorful and into it w this one the possibilities were just endless 🤩 set pretty early 2000s, joel is late thirties and kind of a huge lovesick creep in this and sarah’s (alive) and a teen

warning(s): explicit 18+, dirty talk, age difference, phone sex, cum play stuff

Joel wouldn’t call it being a peeping tom, okay? He wouldn’t.

But if he wanted to occasionally check up on his shirtless neighborhood crush while she’s waltzing around in her panties through that perfect, square little bedroom window next door, who the fuck is he to look away when he knows he’s struck gold?

It’d be foolish, downright idiotic not to admire her while she’s taking care of that soft skin after a hot shower, steam smelling like fresh body wash whenever she cracks the window open to air it out. Joel always ducks his head just in time, sometimes nearly falling as he shamefully rights himself and attempts to act busy with the old paperwork still sitting on his desk.

Tonight’s been pretty ordinary. No sign of her buying curtains for her room anytime soon.

She stuck to her daily routine and he’s watched on from a swivel chair in his home office space. It’s gotten to a point where he thinks he almost knows her inside out, knows little things no one else might ever get to see - like how adamant she is about skin care whether she’s waking up or going to bed, knows the movie posters she hung up on her wall, knows what she looks like getting ready in the morning, how she’ll button her pants while a toothbrush hangs out of her mouth.

How some days she’ll stare in the mirror and pick apart her reflection with a noticeable frown, and others she lightheartedly tries out some funky different hairstyles he admittedly has had a good chuckle at.

Joel took note of plenty other things too. Like the color of her panties. How much the style of clothes she wore changed throughout the week. One day she might wear boxers and a wife beater. Another night she’ll be in offensively tight fitting cami tops with panties in the prettiest sets of colors he’s ever fucking seen.

In all honesty, he understood his amusement in her and every little thing about her wasn’t the smartest, nor healthiest. He tries to shove those thoughts away, ignore everything wrong with what he’s done. With how much he likes to watch those intimate, personal moments when she’s in the comfort and privacy of her own room.

She wasn’t much older than his own daughter Sarah, and Sarah barely just started actually talking to him about boys in her class. As much as it kills him.

By the looks of how often his inappropriate neighborhood crush goes to bed alone, and how rarely she’s spent the night elsewhere, she must’ve been shy enough to keep to herself, unlike Sarah. Never took any boys home from her community college she went to down the road. Never got home late and snuck in through the same window he watches her through. Just a kind, innocent girl who doesn’t know how much she was admired from afar. Or not so far, he remembers, adjusting himself in his sweatpants as she reentered her bedroom only two walls and a few feet in between.

Judging by that red little bra sitting snug around the swell of her breasts and the matching skimpy panties, she was gonna be home alone tonight. Free to do whatever she pleases without the eyes and ears of her parents. Shit, he’s gonna be glued in this twirling desk chair for the rest of the night if he has to. Sarah got ready and washed up for bed half an hour ago, leaving nothing left for him to do except lock the door and get his cream and tissue ready.

Guilt tries to gnaw his subconscious, but the opposing argument wasn’t nearly compelling enough to possess him to stop. Not when she struts in and parts her hair to the side, inspecting herself in the mirror. He could tell she felt a little sexier tonight.

It wasn’t going to be one of those other nights, ones that make him want to crawl up to her bedroom window and grab a hold of her. Let her weep and rant in his chest until she’s all done and he can console her. Go on about how sweet, how gorgeous he knows she is, how ridiculous it ever was that she could see herself any other way.

No, no no. Tonight he already teetered on the edge of crawling up to that open window, peel those panties down her legs, all the way to her calves with his teeth instead. Make her hold on to that headboard of hers for dear life while he gave her what she deserved. He could picture it now, all the squirming she’d do while he made a mess in her sheets, or the pretty colored pieces of lingerie.

Stuff that slutty little bra in her mouth to muffle those cries, snatch those used up panties and inconspicuously shove them down deep in one of his back pockets. Keep it to wrap around his dick later, or maybe drape across his face. Cover it in cum with a low growl of her name.

By the looks of it, sometimes he wonders if she was a vixen that could read minds. Like now, with the way she started rubbing a dainty fingertip down her front through the lace, lying on her back in bed. Teasing herself, softly and gently, like how he dreams of doing to her.

“Damn. Already got started without me,” he mumbles aloud to nobody except himself, licking his lips in anticipation. Pulls his boxers to the side, mirroring her actions when she pulled her devilish colored panties to the side and expose that pretty pussy out in the air. The view is perfect when she readjusts in the bed so her back is to the window, flaunting that nearly naked ass right towards him. An ass that Joel only ever daydreams of getting to run his tongue along. Spank.

“That’s it. Make yourself feel good, baby. Know you need it. Know you’re getting there.”

Joel can’t help his commentary, like he’s making a director’s cut while he watches her bend over and fill herself up with a finger. Her face says that that one finger just isn’t going to cut it, isn’t nearly big enough to fill, to satisfy. He wished he could remedy that for her, shove and pistol even just one of his fingers inside. Thick enough to equal to two of hers, and longer too. Could reach deeper places. He’d do it for hours just to feel the squelch, feel her warmth.

A hum leaves his closed lips while he runs a hand up his stiff length, taking a long deep breath. He tries not to even blink unless he has to, unwilling to miss a second while she still has her lights on and those panties pulled to the side for him.

He’s tempted to really go there and grab the one and only pair of binoculars he’s ever owned, from what used to seem like a stupid last minute holiday gift from Tommy now seemed like it might come in handy. One of these nights.

“Goddamn, look at you,” he starts to pant, sweat built up on his temple as he finally rid himself of his boxers, tucking the waistband beneath his balls. His dick stands full and tall against his belly, veins bulging while his fingers squeeze and tease the tip.

Impatiently goes and begins stroking the base, slow and steady, not intending to get too ahead of himself. Ahead of her. He always aims to match her speed. Pretend he’s doing this with her, next to her. No walls separating them. He’d finally get a view up close, get to taste and kiss and feel and smell—

In the blink of an eye, she surprises him after keeping one of those fingers in as she turns and does something new. Out of the ordinary. She seems to wrestle her thoughts only for a short moment before picking up what looks to be her house phone from the night stand.

Just when she’s done dialing and holds it up to her ear, his own office phone nearly gives him a stroke from its boisterous ringing. He flinched and cursed as he attempts to ready himself, flipping his waistband halfway back up, only part of his cock poking out. Even if it nearly kills him to refrain from relieving himself.

Some unknown number glows on the screen, and though Joel knows it could’ve been anybody, he has a suspicious hunch that this call was something different. Clearing his throat, he answers as the Miller Residence.

“Mister Miller?” a small, breathy, feminine, and most of all familiar voice asks. He turns back around to his neighborhood crush through the window, seeing those deadly legs now sprawled out while she stares up at the ceiling, home phone tucked by her ear. She called him. In bed. Wearing those panties. Holy fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart. Joel is fine. You uh, you live right next door don’t you?” he gulps, a rush of guilt and shame filling his brain and his gut when he looks over and watches her spread them further apart, feet going briefly up in the air.

Closing his eyes, he pinches his temples as he tries composing himself, tries acting natural.

Like he wasn’t just watching her before and right when she fucking calls.

“Yeah, ‘m sorry if it’s too late. Fuck. You probably have work in the morning, don’t you? And Sarah….”

He doesn’t contain his laughter at her unwavering usage of the word fuck. His mind wants to flutter to thoughts of her saying that word in a whole other context.

“No need for any sorrys, sweet thing. Sarah’s too smart for her own good these days, little girl barely needs me around anymore. And I work from home now actually. Makes things easier.” God help him, it does. “Uh, but point is is I’m always open to…. talk. Or anything else you need.” he blurts, stumbling his way through what was supposed to be an innocent, neighborly sentiment. Come knock if you need sugar type of thing.

It’s creepy, and it’s cowardly, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of scaring her off from him permanently. She can talk to him about her life, her thoughts, her struggles — and shit, there really isn’t much left of her life he hasn’t already seen. Just not quite as up close.

He ducks his head to peek a wide eye through the window again, petrified of being caught. How humiliating it would be for her just to turn around, see the same middle aged dad next door that she’s on the phone with, then look down at his pervy stubborn dick just hanging out of his sweatpants for her to see.

Joel’s heartbeat races.

He can hear her smile in her voice while she responds, “Sarah’s a lucky girl, I mean, this goes without saying but…. she has thee coolest dad ever.”

He can’t do anything except bite his lip and stare down at his dick, pathetically holding his breath from the praise. On second thought it’s good she doesn’t see him up close, see how red his neck and ears get. Or the tent in his pants that he gets to hide under his work desk while she unknowingly strips in front of him almost daily.

“But thank you for saying that. Seriously, it means the world to me. I don’t really have many people to talk to most days. Sarah, she um, she actually gave me your guys’ number—“

Fuck. Who does Joel think he is?

“You meant to ring Sarah?”

He’s spiralling into hating himself again while he moves his head to stare through his window and catch a better look at her, a habit which felt about as dangerous as picking up a cigarette.

She’s stood up from her bed now, biting her thumb nail and then running her fingers through her hair. Still killing him with her bare legs, her bare back….

“No! No, Joel I meant to call you. I’m glad it was you who answered, cause I’ve been meaning to ask for your help with something.”

His eyes could’ve bulged out of their sockets and his blood pressure had to have been at a pretty questionable level by now. Turning around in his swivel chair, he itched the back of his neck and pulls his sweatpants the rest of the way back up.

“My help? ‘Course sweetheart. What’d you need my help with so late?”

There’s a subtle shift in tone to a more sultry, vicious one coming from her that he’s never heard before and almost couldn’t pick up on.

“I want you to turn back around and give me your opinion on this.”

Joel swears his heart floated up to his mouth right when he heard it. Turn back around. Since when did she know which way he was facing?

His mouth gapes open like a fish, and he raises his head in high alert but still has yet to turn around.

“What’d you mean—“

“By turn around I meant turn around. C’mon, don’t turn shy now. Might like what you see.”

He slowly turns that hundred and eighty degrees, unsure of what he’s in for when he risks another peek in her window.

She’s on her knees on the bed, facing his house. One bra strap had fallen down her shoulder, and it’s ethereal. Still clutching the home phone to her ear, he can see the giant grin filling her expression as she raises her brows up and down at him through the glass.

“How do these look on me? They’re both new,” she gave him a quick and playful little twirl, swiftly pulling all of her hair to one side.

Joel is blissfully at a loss, wondering if Sarah snuck him a stronger melatonin to put him to sleep and he’s dreaming. He’ll wake up any second like usual, drooling on his pillow with a full hard on he cannot escape.

Tempted to pinch himself, he blinks a few times with a barely there blank expression before clearing his throat to muster up the courage to form an answer. An honest to God answer.

“Looks perfect on you. You’re… you’re beautiful, baby. S’not fair to me.”

“It’s not fair to me that you pulled your pants back up,” she remarks.

Joel licks his lips, watching her nod her head down a little. Signaling that she can see what affect this has on him, how she didn’t have to bat an eye to already have him reeled in.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, voice hoarse.

She repeats all the gestures she’d been doing right before she called, running one of her finger tips in circles through the skimpy lace.

“I wanna see it again,” she whispers, like she’s just shared one of her darkest secrets. And maybe she has. “Pull it out for me.”

Her wish was his command, and up came his ass off the swivel chair to yank both layers back down again. His cock stood up, filled proud and tall as it could ever be. “Anything for you, baby.”

He hears her faint gasp of surprise when his pants are bunched up at his knees, showing off his full length and his thighs.

“Knew you were big, but Joel that is a monster. None of my toys could even compare.” she laughs, shaking her head in utter disbelief. Joel almost clams up not knowing what to say, nonetheless still gushing at her bluntness. In the back of his mind, he wondered what kinds of toys she likely has lying around her room right now.

Shrugging, he fists himself then grabs the tip with his pointer finger and thumb, aching for some semblance of relief from the fucking brick between his legs. When he’s rewarded with some precum building up on the tip, he makes the intentional move to moan low and gruff into the phone like how he would in her ear. “Not just about how big. S’about how you move, how much you pay attention to how she’s feeling. Foreplay too.”

“Sound like such a gentleman,” she teased, almost taking his breath away when she sticks her legs up, placing them on either side of the window, spreading herself out just for his viewing pleasure.

No one on else on his side or her side of their respective homes had their same view, granting them a decent amount of freedom to go wild. Joel scoots his swivel chair even closer to his window, prying his eyes to those now wide open legs that drove him to such foul temptation.

“Not that much a gentleman. Fuck, my god you’re perfect—”

Her hands travel up and down her thighs, and just looking at her from afar he still knows she smells good. She’s still teasing him, but fuck if Joel wasn’t enjoying every minute of it.

“Foreplay too, huh? What do you like about it? Little bit of giving, little bit of taking—“

“Giving. I like giving,” he interjects in a hurry, giving the thick base of his cock a couple satisfying, rigorous strokes. “No such thing as gettin’ too wet.”

His mouth starts to salivate as she nods her head through the window and drags those panties down a leg so they dangle at the heel of her foot. Spreads her lips apart with two of her fingers, wiggling back and forth to fuck him up even harder.

“There might be.”

It could be angelic or downright demonic the way she’s hypnotizing him, the way nothing and no one could pull him out of his daze as he stays on the edge of his chair, pulling on his cock like a prick.

“Think about eating that pussy all day, then fucking you all night. Hard as you want, fast as you want. Fuck, I could break that headboard of yours if you want. Would worship you any way you fuckin’ need me to, baby.”

His voice almost cracks towards the end, brown eyes drinking up her sprawled out form, her breasts busting out of that bra while she slips two of those dainty fingers back inside. Where his mouth ought to be.

“Yeah, I see you looking and jerking off while you watch me undress at night, Joel. What, can’t you handle seeing any girl walk around her room in some panties?”

She could easily just be teasing him, just shit talking to get him going, but he shits down that idea immediately. Any girl he could handle. He’s a grown man, capable of storing away his desires if the situation called for it. This wasn’t that kind of situation.

“Not just any girl,” Joel pants, forcing his wrist to slow down no matter how painful it might’ve been, locking eyes with her through the glass. “It’s you. Always driving me fucking crazy.” he grunts, almost sounding like it was some kind of complaint or deterrence.

“Never got used to watching you make yourself cum. Every night felt like the first time. Love seeing those legs shake,” he goes on, speeding up and tightening the ruthless grip he had on his dick. “Couldn’t help myself, baby. I’m sorry.”

She yanks a cup of her bra down to free her chest, feeding Joel another bucket of eye candy as he slides his wet palm down his length. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he admires her clenching desperately around her little fingers.

“Wanna hear if this is too wet?”

“Yes baby girl, wanna hear it.” he bobs his head up and down with a rapid display of enthusiasm, waning his orgasm off with a brutal level of self control. Not yet, Joel. Not yet.

He sees her take the house phone and lower it to where her fingers had been playing. She scoops her juices around and spreads it to her clit with her middle finger and he can hear it all.

“You sound soaked for me, honey,” he mutters, feeling like he’s lost and put in another realm that was so pleasurable he almost feels like he doesn’t belong. “Must be makin’ yourself feel real good, all spread out and filled up like that.”

“My fingers aren’t big enough.” she says, mirroring a whine while she brings the phone back up to her ear.

“You need mine in there too, don’t you? Fuck, I can’t wait to see what you look like all covered in cum. My cum.”

She’s all gasps and squirms and he gets to witness it all, any previous shame and worry shucked away by those heavenly whimpers of his name. “J-Joel, please—“

All the sudden it seems she wasn’t the one steering this ship anymore, now asking him for permission and instruction. Smitten as he is when she took charge, he knows he can deliver on his part too. Anything under the sun she wants, he will give.

“Add another finger, baby. You can do it, come on, you’re almost there. We’re doing this together now.”

His eyes stay glued between her thighs, speeding up the pace of his own while she does as she’s told and adds in another digit. Judging by her dropping posture and the steady growing speed with a good enough amount of relief that wouldn’t hold a chance compared to Joel’s fingers.

“That feel better, baby? Ready to cum with me?”

She doesn’t verbally answer with anything but a long gasp followed by a cry, and he can’t take his eyes off the slight shake in her legs and hips. He’s seen this enough from her especially to know these tell tale signs, know that she’s going insane from riding her fingers all the way down to each knuckle. Joel is captivated by the sight as he always is, wide eyed as he began nearing his finish right along with her.

And just like that, his neighborhood crush is cumming on her fingers thinking about him, moaning curses slurred with his name.

Joel fell behind her by only a second when his wrist and hips both start to stutter, and only at the last second he realized he’d forgotten to get himself a tissue. Thick spurts of his spend land all over the glass of the window, smearing together and undoubtedly leaving a splotchy mess behind. Something he’ll be cleaning at least before tomorrow morning to dispose of the evidence.

He whispers her name and tucks the phone further into the side of his jaw, feeling her stare piercing right through the glass. It brought tingles up to his spine remembering that this wasn’t a one way street anymore. That she likes this too, that she wants him too.

“You cum a lot.” she observes, zoning in on how it drips down the glass he’s always watched her through. “Fuck, you made me cum a lot. My sheets are fucked over here.”

Joel gives her a chuckle, wiping his shiny forehead off with his upper arm. He watches her, just like he always has, except this time with explicit permission. She takes some sips of water, ties on a silk, pretty robe, puts her hair back. Gives herself the aftercare he wished he could give her. Once he stretched and sighed in his chair, he feels this rather unfamiliar sense of warmth in his chest lingering. Tucking himself back in his sweatpants for the night, he wants to scoff down at the leftover mess of his window.

“Next time you’re free, come over and sit in my lap instead of that goddamn bed in front of that goddamn open window.” he playfully scolds, still considerably dazed while the stars he saw swimming in his eyes slowly start to fade out.

“I’m always free. I don’t do anything except get coffee, go to class and come back home.” she admits. “And also I like to watch my peeping tom neighbor jack off and cum all over his window,” she laughs. It’s so infectious he can’t help but join in, even if his cheeks turn pink and he briefly looks back down at his lap. “But for real. You’re the first one I’ve talked to in kind of a little while. It felt… nice.”

Joel sheds the last thread left of withering self control, couldn’t help himself any longer, and springs up from his office chair like he’s on a mission, looking around for a nearby pair of slippers.

“Where you going? Gonna up and ditch me?” she asks, disguising her sinking feeling of potential rejection with sarcasm. Joel picks up on it and stops it right in its tracks.

“I’m not ditching you. Not gonna hang up the phone either. Come down just a sec, will you baby?”

She gives him a slight nod through her window, appearing more balled up and shy now that she wasn’t sprawled out touching herself for him. Giving him a memory to think about when he was in bed, if he was bored at work, or even waiting in line at a fucking grocery store. He still debates whether or not he should pinch himself just in case he’ll wake up and feel a wet spot in his boxers like some rabid, hormonal teenager.

It took no more than a dozen eager steps to reach her front door, and even if his nerves were trying to get in the way, it’s when she swung opens the door and falls right in his embrace that he knows this isn’t a joke, this isn’t a dream. This robe was just as soft as it looked from far away, her hair smelling even sweeter than he’d been picturing. Her pink cheeks and red lips entice him for more.

She invites him inside her vacant living room after both of them briefly scope out the neighborhood for wandering eyes. He does what he’s been meaning to do since he started watching her undress through his window and smacks his lips together with hers, tasting her chapstick and her minty mouthwash. It’s everything he thought and somehow more, getting to trail his hands down to cup all the places on her he liked. She eggs him on with the throaty little noises that she shyly let out into his mouth.

He moves onto her neck when she pulls away to breathe first. “You’re too sweet and pretty to be lonely, you know that?”

“And you’re too hot to be sitting at home staring out your window at me.” she retorts back.

“Checking in on you,” he corrected.

“Whatever. Oh, can’t forget your souvenir,” she reached into one of the pockets of her robe to fish out those used lace panties she’d been playing with herself in.

“Thought… thought those were new,” he whispers as if someone might hear or see him accepting a pair of panties from his twenty year old neighbor.

If this were happening to any other man he knew, they’d brag about it to anyone with ears. Joel wasn’t interested in boasting. To simply put it, he wanted this all to himself. Keep her all to himself.

She offers him a shrug. “Keep them. Plenty more where that came from, but I got a hunch you already knew that,” she wiggles her eyebrows, snorting out a laugh.

Joel snatched them up without another word, doing what he’d always imagined to get to do, shoving them in the pocket of his pants to revel in later. He tosses his head back and just groans, knowing now that she possesses plenty of ammo to tease him for as long as he’s alive.

“Well, I’d keep that pretty mouth shut until you buy some goddamn curtains.”

thank you for support + love these past few weeks especially but also in general!!!! it makes me cry but in the happy way:)

masterlist + buy me a ko-fi

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller/you #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic #ask #anon #tlou fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller hbo

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Part 1

Pairing: Dean W. x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 2,000 Warnings: Some angst

Part 1: Proximity

You’ve grown up watching your parents. At fourteen, you already understood how rare their relationship was—high school sweethearts, married for sixteen years, and certified soulmates.

Apparently it was even more rare to find your soulmate so early in life, but as Mom said, Sometimes the universe helps you out.

But you just started high school, and after surveying the pool of guys you have to work with, you really hope that “universe” stuff is just wishful thinking.

Because just this morning, Danny Schmitt got his hand stuck in the automatic stapler during Math class. Meanwhile, his friends were collecting bets on how many stitches he was going to need once they finally pried his fingers out.

Dad would call those guys dumbasses. You were inclined to agree.

You looked away from the scene (there was a lot of blood, and now your teacher was trying to free Danny with the only tool in the utility closet: a large hammer). But you couldn’t focus on your busy work like your teacher instructed either.

Sometimes, you still found it hard to believe your parents had met in high school. They had such an easy way between them, and not just because they could hear one another’s thoughts.

Mom was a kindergarten teacher, patient, kind, and encouraging. She came from a family of professors and school administrators, who frankly thought she could’ve done more with her life than “wipe five year olds’ noses.” Last Thanksgiving, she smiled and told Great Aunt Janet, “At least my five year olds can wipe their own asses.”

Smirking, Dad had followed up with, “How’s the incontinence, Jan? Ain’t lettin’ up at all?”

Dad was a cop, though he wasn’t as strict as he could've been. Or as dumb as cops seemed to be in the movies.

No, your dad could be stern, but he was always fair, even if you…didn’t really hang out with him much. Mom was basically your best friend, while Dad was often too busy to know what was going on in your life.

Really, you just couldn’t see what your parents had in common, other than the dusty, midwestern town where they’d grown up. (Speaking of which, you shivered and zipped your coat higher up on your neck. Even indoors, winter in South Dakota was nothing to sneeze at.)

But your parents would share a look sometimes. Your mom would smile, and your dad’s mouth would quirk up at the corner, his eyes softening in a way they only did for her. And then you’d remember that they had their own world that you couldn’t really understand just yet.

“All right,” your teacher said. He wiped sweat from his brow while Danny’s friends carried him off to the nurse’s office. The stapler was in pieces on the floor, but poor Danny still had two huge staples in his index and ring fingers. “I think we’re done for the day. Just finish workbook pages for chapter three and we’ll cover it tomorrow.”

Yes! Math was not your strongest subject, but even you could finish four more square root problems. The teacher’s desk phone rang while you gathered your backpack and books. You were about to leave the classroom when your teacher called you back. You didn’t like the somber look on his face.

“You need to get to the principal’s office,” he said. “Your dad is there waiting for you.”

You didn’t know it then, but today was the day your childhood died—after Dad sat you down and told you what happened to your mom.

Winter in South Dakota was harsh. It could even be dangerous, especially on icy roads shared with grocery truck haulers.

They buried Mom in the same cemetery as your grandparents and your aunt (not Janet, by the way. You didn’t really remember your Aunt Karen, but your dad always avoided talking about his sister). The cemetery was small, but you guessed that made sense for a smallish town like Sioux Falls.

You stayed there until everyone else who loved your mom was gone, and it was just you and your dad left.

You didn’t bother to wipe your tears—not until your dad set a hand on your shoulder. You tried to wipe them away quickly, even though you didn’t really know why you didn’t want him to see you crying. He just gave you this look. In his eyes, you could see every fathom of his heartbreak. In a way, it told you everything you needed to know about your dad.

So you leaned into his side, and he held you close while the icy winds whipped at both of you.

Snow crunched beneath someone’s feet, and you turned to see a man walking down the row of headstones. He looked kind of familiar…

He had a thick beard and wore a baseball cap, but he took it off once he got close enough to pay his respects—first to Mom…then to Aunt Karen.

“Jack,” he greeted with a nod of respect.

You looked up at your dad, and the free emotions he’d been wearing clammed up behind a more familiar stern expression.

“Bobby,” he said, nodding back. Realization finally dawned on you. Oh, Uncle Bobby?

You hadn’t seen your uncle since you were…ten? Probably since Aunt Karen’s funeral.

“I’m real sorry about Christine,” Uncle Bobby said. He sounded a bit gruff, but his eyes were kind when they met yours sympathetically. “About your mom.”

Another tear fell down your cheek, but you nodded and wiped it away, sniffling.

“Thank you,” your dad said eventually. There was a brief, but awkward pause. Then Bobby nodded to himself and walked away, setting that faded blue baseball cap back on his head. You watched him go curiously.

“You remember your uncle,” Dad said. He didn’t seem happy about it.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why didn’t he stay?”

He was family, after all.

Dad shook his head. There was a wry downturn to his lips. “He’s got a junk heap to look after.”

You frowned in confusion. But he didn’t explain what he meant. He just steered you back toward the car to go home.

Just as you both crossed under the iron arch to leave the cemetery, Dad reached into his pocket and gave you something. Your mom’s wedding ring.

“You can wear it if you want,” he said. “Or just keep it safe. Either way, just remember…she’s still with you. And I’m always gonna watch over you.”

The thought made you feel the slightest bit better, and also worse. Still, you took the ring and held it between your fingers. It was simple sterling silver, but beautiful all the same.

You got into his pick-up truck and he started the drive home. Just as you turned the corner, you hit a red light. You stared out the window as snow started a light fall, flurrying down to the damp pavement. Soon the ground would be icy and wet, and that reminded you of grocery trucks. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you were sick of it. Sick of crying.

It actually annoyed you…or…did it?

A feeling fluttered in your chest. It felt like anxiety and irritation all wrapped up into one. And another feeling, this time attached to a thought. It felt hot in your throat, and a lot like—

It’s not fair!

The thought startled you. Because somehow (and you didn’t know why), it didn’t feel like you were the one that thought it.

Finally, the street light turned green. It flashed in the corner of your eyes, and then you noticed a sleek, black car coming in the opposite direction. You watched it pass by for a moment, until your dad distracted you with a question.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. You blinked, trying to register what he said while you shook off the weird things you were feeling. Once your brain caught up to your mouth, you were finally able to answer.

“Not really.”

“Come on. I’ll get us a burger.”

You shrugged, but for once you really weren’t hungry.

“Dad, come on,” Dean said in frustration. On one hand, he didn’t want to argue with his dad.

On the other hand, this really wasn’t fair!

He was seventeen already. He’d gone on a handful of hunts with John before, so why not this one?

“Too dangerous,” John said. He looked over at Dean from the Impala’s driver’s seat. His tone boded no further argument. “Djinn are tricky. Even seasoned hunters have trouble with ‘em.”

Dean frowned. “I’m ready, Dad.”

“Do we have to go to Bobby’s house?” Sam piped up from the back seat. At thirteen, he was getting more and more lippy.

“Cheaper than a motel.” John smiled, then glanced at his younger son through the rear-view mirror. “Besides, why not Bobby’s?”

Sam sighed. “His heater doesn’t always work.”

“Well, I’ll help him take a look before I go,” John replied. Dean stared at the side of his dad’s face for a while, but he knew a lost argument when he saw one.

…Still, he couldn’t help but try.

“Dad,” Dean pressed.

John’s gaze stayed on the road. “Not this time, son. You and Sam’ll be okay at Bobby’s.”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, bored at Bobby’s. But he knew it was better than being left at a crusty motel room. He was annoyed, but he could deal with it.

Until something else began to creep up in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt since…since his mom died.

It was this ball of lead in his chest, weighing him down and constricting his throat. It felt a lot like…like fear, and sadness. And finally confusion. He was confused?

Maybe.

Sad? Afraid? Not really, no. At least, he didn’t think so. He hadn’t thought about his mom like that in a while…

So what the hell?

Those sensations only lasted for a moment—the time it took them to finally cross the street at the red light and pass a pick-up truck going the opposite way.

But that moment seemed to drag on for minutes. Now he really was confused.

He sat still, hesitating, until the feeling eventually passed.

“Hey, Dean, where’s the Batman comic?” Sam leaned up by his ear to ask.

Dean almost flinched. He played it off though, and turned to look back at his brother.

“It’s in my bag, but wait ‘til we get to Bobby’s.”

“Why? That’s like, a whole ten minutes away,” Sam pointed out.

“Because my bag’s under a ton of stuff back there. Just leave it for a few minutes,” Dean said. He sensed that Sam was about to get all bitchy and not let it go, but then John cut in.

“He’s right, Sam. Just cool it until we get there.”

Sam frowned, slumping into his seat with an annoyed huff. Wanting to tease him out of his kid funk, Dean smirked, reached back and playfully tapped his knee. “Yeah, cool it.”

Sam slapped his hand away. “Stop.”

“Make me, dork.” Accompanied by another teasing flick to his ear. Sam hit him back, and it would’ve devolved into an immature, but not uncommon free-for-all, if not for John’s heavy sigh and a sharp warning.

“Boys, enough!”

Then the car was silent. Sam huffed again and settled back into his seat. Dean tapered down his smile and sat back in his too. He looked out the window and saw the snow beginning to fall. Without meaning to, his mind drifted back to that weird feeling in his chest.

He rubbed his chest absently. But soon enough, he forgot about it. Just like you did.

Neither of you realized exactly what happened that day.

It was the first tug of a lifelong bond, seared into your souls.

AN: Okay, this is my first soulmate AU! Maybe the end was a little melodramatic there lol.

Let me know in the comments what you think! Then keep reading. ;)

Here it is: Part 2.

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn #spn fics #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #bobby singer #john winchester #soulmates #dean x female reader #soulmate au #fluff #some angst #dean winchester x female reader #zepskies writes

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jejuboo-s · 8 months

Text

Silent Boarding Gate [STAGE 1: DENIAL]

[PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5]

Pairing: Design Major!F. Reader x Model!W. Junhui

Genre: Fluff, Smut, & Angst (Fluff will be more prominent as the parts progress)

Synopsis: In which you meet Wen Junhui, an exchange student from China, along the way of accomplishing your dreams. He was a great friend, but you got attached to him. Maybe a little too much.

Warning: Slowburn, arguing, explicit language, Jun gets a little hostile in said argument, masturbation, lots and lots and lots of reader second guessing herself D:

Taglist in the comments due to so much love and support :)

(Please let me know through asks or the comments if you’d like to be in the taglist, @s not mentioned are not able to be tagged ^3^)

You and Jun were a notorious duo—well, more like a rumored couple (which would most likely never happen), in many of your classes. You certainly didn’t mind the fake rumors, but he certainly did.

You plopped yourself on your couch next to your best friend, Junhui; and whilst doing so, you managed to spill a bit of the popcorn from the bowl in your grasp into Jun’s lap.

“____—“ He whined, much like a baby. “I told you you should’ve gotten a bigger bowl, or atleast look like you care that you ruined my favorite stay-at-home sweats with some cheap butter!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes at him playfully, “Shut up you big baby,” Before you could get out the next pair of words, he flicked you square in the forehead. “Hey! Leave me alone Junnie, exams are over—this is my, no, our personal way of bonding.”

“Fine fine, just for the sake of bonding.” He sighed, putting emphasis on the ‘bonding’ just to push your buttons a little further.

And you were right, Jun was just being annoying—as he usually is. Yesterday was exam day, and you had exceeded your own expectations, whereas Jun, well, you guys hadn’t really brought up his score yet. But, either way, it was your final exam and you were proud to have ended your last semester on a good note.

“Hey, if you wanna bond, you have to at least do the bare minimum and talk.” Jun ruffled your hair, and you mumbled profanities to yourself.

“Mr. Wen Junhui, respectfully, shut up.” You scoffed, patting your messy hair back into place. “Can we watch the new Little Mermaid movie? Please?”

“What? No! I thought we were watching Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse! You agreed to it!” He whined.

“No, we're watching the Little Mermaid and that’s that!”

“Aweeeee… How come you always get what you want?”

Wiping his hands with a cloth, Jun sighs as he sees his hands, yet again, sweaty. Today’s packing day—and technically, he’s not supposed to be moving yet, however, he has other plans.

He places the last of his boxes outside his and Minghao’s dorm, internally whining when he hears very familiar keys jingling, the noise more prominent each and every step.

Looking up, Jun sees someone he’d usually be more than elated to see—however, right now, he wishes they’d never cared for him in the first place. After all, this was the right thing to do.

“Huh, Junnie?” You stopped, with a somewhat confused and positive look on your face. God how he wishes that he’d never had to tell you. “Why’re you already moving? Are you really that eager—“

“Shut up with your teasing, I’m tired of it.” He bit his lip—did I really say that? “I’m not in the mood for any of your antics right now.”

Jun looks up from the boxes giving you an unfamiliar and more hostile look, watching your soft expression form into something more apprehensive. He wishes he didn’t have to do this, I wish I didn’t have to watch the beautiful laugh on her face fade.

You put your hand on his wrist, caressing the soft and supple skin with your thumb to calm him down, until he shoves you away and pulls back, that is.

“What?… Jun, why are you so hostile today, is something up? You know you could always tell me—“

“No, I told you to shut up. I don’t wanna tell you shit, and I won’t ever tell you shit again if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

You slowly back away, trying to hide the fact a huge lump in your throat was building, and that yout eyes were starting to water. This was what he wanted, it’s what you didn’t expect. It was better to hurt you now than to hurt you later.

“Just leave, I don’t wanna see your face again. Matter of fact—I’m moving to China, so I won’t have to see you ever again.”

“Huh?”

Jun coldly walks back into his dorm, slamming the door to emphasize his so-called hatred. Behind him, he hears yelling from you that he tried to ignore, but what you says really gets in his head.

“Okay, well fuck you too! I don’t even care if you're going to China, I don’t care about you!”

He rests his head on the wall and mumbles,

“乌云无语晕开 [The love I didn’t say then].”

Great, just great, you thought. You scrolled on Snapchat, and looked at everybody's stories. They were all a stupidly clear video of you and Jun arguing—captioned “The infamous couple, broken up?”

And even worse of all, everybody was contacting you to see if you were okay, everyone was claiming Jun was in the wrong, even though you knew damn well they’d probably been texting Jun earlier.

Throwing your phone down onto your bed just when you thought that call was gonna be the last of them, you feel vibration from under your bed’s covers. I wonder who it is this time, you thought.

Taking your phone hesitantly, your breath hitched for a second—it was Minghao.

Minghao was Jun’s best friend since childhood, brother from another mother, basically. And since you are, well, were Jun’s best friend, it wasn’t rare for you to bond at times when Jun wasn’t with you guys.

Minghao and you bonded about things that Jun wouldn’t understand half of the time. But it made him seem like an even more reliable friend, it made it seem like he didn’t stick around just because you were acquainted with Jun; but because you were a good person.

Which is why you were semi-surprised about seeing the incoming call from him, and equally as hesitant to pick it up. But, you didn’t want to ruin yet another friendship so, why not?

Silence rang through the line as you picked up the phone.

“Hey Jun. I’m gonna go use the bathroom, give me a second.”

You bit your lip. Oh he lives with Jun now, I figured. You shrugged it off, you knew Minghao wasn’t the type to secretly tell Jun all your secrets. Right?

“Okay, I’m sorry about that,” He whispered. “You know we live in an apartment together since we moved together, I mean, it’s logical. But I don’t want him to hear what you have to say.”

You hummed in response, hoping the phone would pick up the noise. “So, what exactly did you wanna ask me, Hao?”

“What exactly happened between you and Jun? One day, you guys are best friends who literally have toothbrushes in each other's dorms—and the next you guys are people who’ve never met!”

“Sorry, it’s just all so confusing to me. Jun’s acting more distant and I can’t stand it. And so are you, you would’ve called me by now.” Minghao audibly sighed through the phone.

“It might sound hypocritical but, I just came to check up on him while he’s moving a couple of boxes out. I start joking around, and he just seems to be pissed off with me and,“ A tear falls down your cheek. “He just says a bunch of shit like he doesn’t wanna see me again and he hates me, man, that stuck with me.”

You could hear the surprise in Minghao’s voice when he talks. “Oh, really? He’s been acting like he was the one who got wronged. I’m sorry that happened to you, ____.”

Your hand grew tired of holding the phone up to your ear, so you decided to plop on your bed, phone next to ear. “It’s fine really, Hao. You’re not at fault, you don’t even deserve to be caught up in all this.”

“____, listen.” It caught you by surprise he’d dropped the honorifics, but you didn’t show it. “It was my choice to get caught up in this drama you two have. I could’ve just not called you or ignored Jun.”

“Don’t put the blame on yourself. I know how close you were to Jun and just because you were close and you guys fell apart doesn’t mean it’s your fault. Hell, it’s Jun’s fault and I can admit it as his best friend.”

Choked sobs were heard through the line, and Minghao knew better than to keep talking. “Thank you Hao.” You whispered. “I think I need some time to think for myself though, I’ll call you later. Bye-bye.”

The line fell.

It’d been a couple of months since you and Jun stopped being friends. You had gotten over him, for the most part, of course you still thought of him from time to time and the thoughts would eat you up—you were still better than before, until today.

You were flipping through your favorite TV channels, great every single one’s on an ad break, you thought. And to your horror, the last one, which had usually had to do with modeling, design, photography, etc. had been airing a fashion week runway. And guess who was walking on that fucking runway.

Wen Junhui.

You felt your throat getting drier and drier by the second. However you sat felt uncomfortable, the temperature of the room felt humid and unbearable. Everything didn’t seem right.

His outfit seemed uncomfortable yet it suited his facial features so perfectly, and oh, he dyed his hair blonde? He looked so much more different, and the truth was, you were so fucking into it. You couldn’t bring yourself to switch the channels, you were just waiting for him to cycle back onto the runway to see his next outfit.

The next outfit looked ethereal on him. Since when did he have abs, and when did they get so toned? It was a bold choice for the stylists to not conceal his eyebags, you thought, but it made him so much more appealing and attractive, you hated to admit.

You decided to finally shut off the TV but now you were all hot and bothered. You thought it was ridiculous, ridiculous that you were all shaken up for an ex-best friend. For an ex-crush.

Throwing yourself on your bed, you sighed, rubbing your thighs. Opening Instagram, you searched up the familiar name of Wen Junhui. This is so wrong, you cried out.

Pulling down your shorts, you trailed your fingers up your shirt, down to your breasts, to your stomach and finally to where your panties sat. You moaned at how wet you were.

Two of your fingers dipped down into your sopping hole, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your mouth formed into an O and soft and quiet little gasps came from your mouth.

This is so wrong. So fucking wrong. And you knew it. There was a pit deep in your stomach, and no, it wasn’t the pit in your stomach that you’d normally get from pleasuring yourself. It was from guilt. Pure guilt.

You knew it was wrong, but you kept going, moans growing louder by each and every curl of your finger. Tears bubbling at your eyes, falling onto your pillow thinking if you guys had never argued that day, maybe it’d be his fingers in your pussy right now. Not your own.

“Junnie…” A nickname that now feels foreign slips past your lips, salty tears staining your lips much like a sign to not chant his name. With enough twists of your fingers, you manage to wrap yourself undone, chest rising up and falling back down with each breath.

Sitting up, you sighed. The reality of it all hit you like a truck. You’d never be able to see or talk to Jun ever again. Whether you liked it or not. He was a famous model and you were just some nerd who did graphic design for a living.

But even with all taken, it was still reasonable to have some hope. Right?

jejuboo-s 2023

@itzxvaxella @svtup @nctsslut @dulcecreatura @hertatsu @baekshunnie @staygenezy @ace-of-angels22 @bittersweetells @varverat @areenalight @rzrbladelmnade @whitenana @yukkaaaaa @wonushuasworld @arianabintesharif @lovelyhyuka14 @jeanjacketjesus @emilyhadenbaker @yoonna22 @ni-aaaaaaa @1ntaktak @believeinmagical25 @lostsoul23 @junhour @jaemin9yu @chiefshoebanditalien @dixirwe @muawwo @sleepyyizzyy @jiniesclub @anna-357 @sugar8 @seokcrafts @svtgivesmesvts @cowmilk0 @mcpl @jackeline3302 @snsdswrld @booitschoco @jnhthy @woohui @imbnpreader @pakaosta @anama34 @rikiswife05 @sulkygyu @h-ao @moonie-junnie @calssunflower @kpopfan1130 @jarak0j @yayitslauraaa @inner19daysinteriorshound @undercoveemafiaa @wwsfg @kim-hunter5 @peachesjvn @weeee-eeee @this-cool-chick @xiaovenmisser @jun-cat @gyuldaengie6 @creativetaehan @subsikkie people who couldn’t be tagged in comments ^^

#seventeen smut #kpop smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader smut #kpop x reader #seventeen angst #jun smut #jun angst #jun fluff #junhui smut #junhui angst #junhui fluff #.leeworks #kpop fluff #kpop angst

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blorbocedes · 5 months

Text

fernando/guanyu, hero worship, movie star fernando au

Guanyu justifies spending his sizeable allowance on booking a Saturday night private booth at Flavio Briatore's club with: if he wasn't spending it here, he would've been using it to buy Balenciaga to wear to class. Well, he does wear Balenciaga in the halls of UCLA, but still.

Zhou Guanyu would like everyone to know he is not a stalker.

All of this is publicly available information, such as Fernando's jet landing in LA on Friday, and Guanyu's bookmarked gossip boards confirming Fernando and his girlfriend are well and truly over.

And the Michelin star sushi bar Fernando posted on Instagram story that is impossible to get a booking into, and Guanyu had to beg his father's secretary to use his name.

It's just a hobby, LA is full of celebrity sighting.

Guanyu was five when he first saw Fernando, on a Chinese dubbed telenovela playing a young heartthrob. He was instantly a fan. Over the years, he followed Fernando's career diligently watching him break into Hollywood, and then critically acclaimed movies. Those movies taught him English better than the expensive tutors his parents hired. He remembers staying up late to watch the Oscar's, only to go on a very angry rant on Weibo when Fernando was brutally snubbed. He had posters of Fernando on his wall, followed his career even as it careened to a few disappointing cash-grabs the last few years after a successful stint at directing a one man play. Word on the street is Fernando's producer, Flavio, was using his production company for illegal tax writeoffs.

Guanyu waits, sparkling water in hand and a keen eye scanning the floor; the music slightly muted in his private room with an unopened champagne bottle on melting ice, glittering square table and uncomfortable lounge seats. Maybe Fernando isn't coming, maybe Guanyu's in the club all alone. Maybe he can invite Logan and Oscar next time, and opt out of the private booth in case they're uncomfortable with that. He still remembers the look on their face when they found out he has a personal cleaner come to his dorm.

Just as Guanyu was about to call it quits around midnight, a celebrity entourage with the DJ announcing his welcome -- Fernando walked in.

Even after all this time, Guanyu still feels a little starstruck, like the wind knocked out of him. It's not even the first time he's seen him in person, but the feeling is still the same. Fernando is so handsome, and whatever cosmetic work he's done is tasteful, looking older but striking. Guanyu waits at the bar on the upper floor and sneaks glances at Fernando when he can get away with it, watching him hug Flavio.

Fernando seems to catch his eye, and Guanyu looks away fast - fast, ears burning hot. He knows he's well dressed in his Chanel boots, two older ladies try to approach him and he politely declines, and when he turns around this time Fernando is gone from his seat.

Guanyu tries not to feel disappointment. He stares at his melting ice sparkling water.

"You are my favourite type of fan." The Spanish lilt of the voice by his ear makes Guanyu jump, Fernando Alonso right there beside him. "Beautiful, rich, groupie. Makes the experience rewarding for both of us, no?"

Guanyu wants to protest he's not a groupie but he's stuck on the beautiful, a blush rising from his neck, and Fernando is grinning wolfishly at him. This close, Guanyu feels a little dizzy. He can see his pores, like an HD Getty Image. He actually had a 10 step plan of how Fernando would fall in slowburn romance with him eventually after a carefully planned coffee shop meetcute but this was jumping several steps.

"I keep seeing you, and I don't forget pretty face. What's your name?" Fernando's arm goes around Guanyu's shoulder.

"Zhou Guanyu--Joe, my friends here call me Joe."

"Guanyu," Fernando butchers the pronunciation. "Zodiac sign?" He must've picked it up when he starred in Dragon Warrior: Unleashed in Beijing.

"Bunny." Guanyu momentarily forgets the English word for rabbit.

"Ah. Year of the Rabbit. I remember, from my time filming in Beijing. You are old enough, I will buy you a drink."

Guanyu finds himself being led to Fernando's table, legs walking on autopilot, heart throbbing out of his chest.

"Tell me, bunny, have you ever had a flaming whiskey shot?"

Fernando's grin is shark-like, hand on his shoulder sliding down to Guanyu's waist when he shakes his head no, signalling to his private server.

The rest of the night goes like this: Guanyu's lips close around the rim of his glass, and then it closes around the rim of Fernando's cock.

The sex is an out of body experience. Guanyu is going to compare it to Fernando's sex scenes he has bookmarked when he gets home.

"So, what are you, big Mclaren Heroes fan?" Fernando asks after, referencing his most popular movie that most people know him from, mostly because it was also the film that launched 7x Oscar winner Lewis Hamilton onto the scene. Otherwise, Fernando has just been on the film scene forever, but without the huge blockbuster hits. Guanyu actually thinks the first one is a little overrated, and then the decline in quality in the cashgrab sequels years later that never quite caught the charm of the first one.

Guanyu shakes his head. "I loved you in Minardi. I had a poster. I was 5."

"Jesus, don't remind me, kid." Fernando shudders, getting up. "It was a good run."

Guanyu has a million photos saved of it, but Fernando's back tattoo is still immaculate in person stretching from his nape all the way resting above the dimples of his lower back. He remembers when it was freshly inked and Fernando had posted it on his now abandoned Facebook. There's probably things about Fernando that he himself has forgotten that Guanyu remembers.

"You like?"

Guanyu blushes again, caught. He nods. "It's so cool."

Fernando smiles, maybe a real one this whole evening. "You have to be brave in life, like a samurai."

Fernando puts on a robe, heading to the en-suite bathroom.

Guanyu bolts over to where Fernando's phone is, unlocking it: 3314. He saw Fernando type it before, and it opens. Going to the phonebook, Guanyu saves his number as 🌸🪷💖Bunny🌸🪷💖 (Joe from the club) (Minardi fan Zhou Guanyu); before leaving it back where Fernando kept it.

If he were some lowlife stalker he would've called himself to save Fernando's number, but he's not. He hopes the emoji associations remind Fernando of the good times they had.

The next time Guanyu sees Fernando at the club, he's there with Logan and Oscar, who had invited their friends along too so the private perks and the membership card hadn't been awkward at all -- everyone calling him Joe The Man.

Logan, drunk, collapses on his shoulder with an inconspicuous whisper yell over the music. "Is that, that dude from Heroes?"

He locks eyes with Fernando across the dance hall. This time, Guanyu doesn't look away.

His phone buzzes with a text.

#the core thesis is they both don't see each other as real people here #the recent gif of them inspired this #as well as yandere little guanyu!!! not enough fics of them imo #this is a fic with an audience of 2 mutuals #but if you like it please Lmk!#f1 rpf #my fics #guanando #Fernando/guanyu

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doctorbunny · 10 months

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The mission to track down (most of) the locations in Ai Nan Desu Yo!

Firstly, I want to thank @archivalofsins /Gunsli-01, this whole thing started because of us DMing, wondering if we could use the background images in Mahiru's first MV to guess which university she went to, that started this whole adventure. By the end of this saga, the process truly was a collaboration too and i would've given up much sooner (sorry for taking so long to write this up!)

It started here. The caption says Mahiru is sat on the 大学のテラス (University terrace). So we figured this was the best shot to find her uni. Gunsli tried reverse image search but it just kept throwing milgram back at us. So I got an idea:

The magic of photo editing! it worked too and I got this back:

That's right! This isn't a university but a pizza place! Specifically one called 800 ディグリーズナポリタンピッツェリア (800 degrees Neapolitan pizzeria) It is right next to two universities however:

Of these two, I speculate Aoyama Gakuin University is more likely to be Mahiru's as they have a large humanities department and an option to take Chinese language classes (interestingly, it is also a Very Christian university and we know from question 19 of Mahiru's trial 1 interrogation, she believes people go to Heaven when they die. There is also a lot of focus on international students and the campus nearest the pizza resturant has a 'statue of Love' in the Majima Archives building)

Inspired by this fruitful discovery I decided to try my method on other photos:

I jumped all the way over to day 13 because I felt like the sign would aid in my search. Before I bothered with any photo editing I just did some google searches "Tokyo Marun-" I got the autofill result 'Tokyo Marunouchi hotel' after investigating it wasn't the right place but we had a location name "Marunouchi" Trying again I typed "Tokyo Marunouchi Street" Autofill gave me "Marunouchi Street Park": Bingo!

This must be some kind of iconic sign because there were a ton of results for it. The bad news is that the sign was portable and only placed out for special events. So I introduce the next weapon in my arsenal: Google Streetview With a street to work with I walked up and down Morunouchi Naka-doori avenue until I got to a building with similar square pillars to the one behind Mahiru

This place is the MyPlaza, it's got a couple different shops, but importantly there is a function room you can rent out for events just like the wedding reception Mahiru attended here. This one turns out to be further away than some of the other discoveries but it makes sense because Mahiru is travelling to an event, not on a date.

Back to photo editing! This is one of two shrines I'll identify, they become important as they get special icons on google maps, becoming landmarks to search around later.

This is the Meiji Jingu Shrine

I was on a roll so quickly moved to day 14, however, my editing trick wouldn't work here so it would only be later that I uncovered the location of the park

Searching for day 11 was much more fruitful

I was really excited to track this one as Mahiru mentions it being the filming location for her favourite movie. So I thought if we could discover that, then we may unlock more clues about her as a person

I got about this far before realising I could try a different tactic. If this was a well known spot, surely in my broken Japanese I could google it right? So with a little help of my dictionary I spat out "Tokyo red hand railing movie". Somehow this barely worked

The movie? Your Name

At this point I was rolling on the floor laughing because I had been expecting some Japanese cult classic romance movie or a domestically popular but internationally obscure rom com meanwhile Your Name was a massive box office smash hit in many places. One of the few anime movies that even non-anime fans will be aware of.

Despite this, I hadn't actually seen it myself and wasn't really in the mood to watch it (I had more locations to track down, dammit) but fortunately Gunsli came in clutch, having previously seen the movie and also in the mood to rewatch it for clues about Mahiru.

These stairs are actually at a place called Suga Shrine, making this our second landmark. (Fun fact: if you look it up you'll find pictures of movie fans recreating photos of the place)

We were starting to build up an idea of Where Mahiru's world was, the border between Shibuya and Shinjuku ward. There were several parks in the area, so I figured I'd set out to find the day 14 park location by searching through each one. I was worried this would take a while but when I started with the biggest park, Yoyogi, I basically hit jackpot right away. Immediately upon seaching it, google recommended me results for images of the park at night. It turns out that Yoyogi had a large area used for concerts (that also may have been used for movie nights). By chance, I found this image from the park at night

which looks awfully similar to the lamp/benches seen in the background of day 14... According to Gunsli, the nearby yoyogi station is featured in an important scene in Your Name, so that's another thing pointing towards them being in this park. It's not solid evidence but we'll come back to this later.

At this point I'm both hyped up and bored, so to amuse myself and just to see if I can, I decide to search for the place Mahiru's boyfriend is working at in day 8

At first I had written it off as pointless to even try searching, but Gunsli noticed that in the top left corner you can see a hint of the store's sign. It is the same colours as a Seven Eleven (a chain that exists both in the US and Japan) This greatly narrowed down my search, as it ruled out the many Family Marts and Lawsons in the area (I cannot stress how many convenience stores there are in Tokyo) Unfortunately, there were still many 7/11s to search through and thus leads to the several hours I spent on google maps, individually going to each 7/11 in Shibuya and trying to look for those bike racks, floor tiles and old security camera. It was demoralising. But when hope was nearly lost and I almost gave up (there was a heat wave outside so my brain was melting during this). Gunsli reminded me of something very important. On day 8 we get two images, the above of Mahiru waiting outside the 7/11, and one of her sat on a park bench. If we were right about the day 14 park being Yoyogi, then surely our 7/11 would be in walking distance? The search began again. The third 7/11 I found near the park was it.

In one fell swoop I had confirmed both day 8 and 14. In celebration I made a tumblr post

Now, at this point I'm running out of images to search for because a lot of the locations in Ainan are indoors, meaning they could be taken from a studio or even one of the milgram crew's homes (which isn't actually uncommon) and thus, not a relavent location. I did half heartedly attempt to look for the day 9 bar, but as you can imagine, without any external landmarks it was even more of a goose chase than the 7/11...

The last location I decided to look for was all the way back in day 5

This edit was pretty tough to make so i was very annoyed when it didn't work. By this time it was late at night, but Gunsli had a hunch that this would be a well known running route, so started looking for those. By the time I'd woken up, she got it down to a route called the Imperial Palace Running Route, which is very popular (especially with tourists, it is recommended to give it a go if you're in the area)

I found it on streetview by following road signs seen in a video of someone running the route Gunsli found (the part in Mahiru's video appears at about 1:35)

youtube

It's an area called Takebashi and here is a screenshot both of what we saw in ainan, as well as what Mahiru would've seen in the direction she ran (the route loops back on itself)

Ok I'm tired it's 1 am, finally here's a really rough map of everywhere in relation to each other

An interesting thread throughout is that many of these places are sort of tourist-y, suggesting Mahiru's boyfriend may not be from Tokyo either. The university (assuming I'm guessing the right place) taking in lots of international students and Mahiru's boyfriend working at a 7/11 (which Japanese people can do but is also Stereotypically the part time job of choice for people from outside Japan while studying) could perhaps even hint to him not being Japanese, but it's all speculation right now

I hope you enjoyed this long rambly mess, I'm so sorry it took me so long to write it all up....

#mahiru shiina #milgram #ミルグラム #milgram theory #long post

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brother-emperors · 4 months

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hiii so. i really really admire you because of the depth of research you put into your art (even as someone who tends to fall down deep research holes i'm in Awe) but also because of the art itself - and i wanted to ask if you had any recommendations for someone who wants to get better at drawing? (books to read, things to do?) especially for figure drawing as you have (to my untrained eye) one of the best balances of style realism and naturalness and in general just overall make some of the best art i've ever seen methinks

this is really high praise, thank you so much!

as for art advice and recommendations for getting better at drawing, I 100% believe in carrying around a sketchbook wherever you go. if the pressure of having nice pages is something that bothers you, get a stack of sticky notes because you can cover up mistakes and re draw over it immediately, and squares of color will add some fun to a page later when you flip through everything.

ideally, I think there's a balance to skill building and having a good time, and I tend to split my own sketchbooks between life drawing (frequently I'll draw windows I think look neat or my morning coffee) and doodling shit for fun. I try out a lot of different styles and draw a lot of nonsense just because it felt like a good time. I do a lot of edward gorey type stuff because the line work process is comfy.

one way to go about doing this is to pick a direction (so to speak) that seems interesting, and build along side it! when I first decided I wanted to take art more seriously, I started looking up pictures of renaissance statues and drawing those. trying to draw those. it took a long time to get my art to look anything like a bernini statue, but I had a lot of fun learning that I really enjoyed drawing hands! comics are another good one, naoki urasawa's work is fucking genius level to me, I regularly revisit monster and do studies off of literally everything he does.

(I also keep a separate sketchbook for figure studies. this is mostly because I really enjoy drawing the human figure, this is very relaxing for me personally: I rotate between doing gesture drawings, contour drawings, and longer anatomy studies)

finally, I have found reading books on art history to be critical in my own process. so much about art history will tell you how to convey a million words into a singular composition. idk how much of that will be of interest or help to you, but I personally found it helpful, especially in understanding how to read things visually, which in turn helped me figure out how I wanted to tackle drawing something

and! two books I've found invaluable for anatomy were george bridgman's constructive anatomy and michael d. mattesi's force: drawing human anatomy, although I might recommend morpho's books above them now, like oh my god morpho is so good.

OH the other thing. this is something I picked up from when I was taking an animation class in art school, but sometimes I'll put on a movie or show I really like and do thumbnail studies of the frames while I watch. there's a lot to learn in a frame! shapes are important. god I love shapes.

#ask tag #thank you again! i hope some of this was helpful!!

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meraki-yao · 8 months

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RWRB Movie Analysis: Henry's Seclusion and Perception-Part 2

A little follow-up of this post after I realized something while watching Henry flinch after Alex tried to hold his hand during their Paris date.

This is more up to interpretation but in the same way Henry was isolated in a space without any sort of moral support during the week after the email leaks while Alex wasn’t, I think the same could be possibly said with their view on public displays of affection.

I’m gonna preface by saying that even in the RWRB Movie verse, both UK and USA are evidently mostly LGBT+ friendly. Alex’s US kind of goes without saying, while for Henry, given the sheer amount of people that ended up coming to support him all across the country, I think the same could be said for his UK.

So given that their big environment is LGBT friendly, the difference here is their own circles.

Before President Claremont was elected, Alex was just like any of us, as he put it himself, “an anonymous working class kid”. His socializing circle wasn’t really limited. On top of that both of his parents are democrats. Even before he figured out his own bisexuality, he was definitely exposed to LGBT communities and individuals, colourful queer people who showed off their gender, sexuality and relationship/partner proudly. Besides, from his interaction with Nora, his mom, even Henry during the NYE party, Alex is clearly a physically affectionate person to begin with. He is used to displays of affection, and has see queer public displays of affection.

So when he starts to fall for Henry (which I firmly believed started properly since the state dinner), he doesn’t really register displays of affection as something to be hidden despite now being in a homosexual relationship. This aspect is not that different in his mind. The only times we see Alex really make an effort to conceal it is when they want to… do dirty things, like the polo match (Matthew/Prime release the full scene please) and the DNC hotel visit, which in any case is something that one would make effort to hide even for a bit.

Look at the movie again. Alex reaches out to hold Henry’s hand in Paris, Henry flinches. Alex steps forward to kiss Henry at the airstrip after the night in the V&A, Henry stops him, even if it’s private airstrip with only Henry’s staff. The one sentence Alex said that sent Henry spiralling and trying to break things off was “We could walk through Austin holding hands, and it won’t even matter if anyone sees us.” (which is one of my favourite lines in the book by the way, granted used in a different situation) Alex finds public displays of affection towards Henry very natural.

Henry doesn’t.

However much he loves touching and kissing Alex in private behind closed door throughout the entirety of their relationship, he was never comfortable, or confident for them in public settings, even if there’s actually no one except their own professional secret service/ personal staff there.

And I think one of the contributing reasons is unlike Alex, he never really got to see queer people be openly proud of their identity and partners.

Henry, as the prince, has his social circle and travels limited. You’re not gonna see him on the subway or walking through Trafalgar Square. He’s not gonna be able to walk the streets and just see queer citizens out and about the way Alex did. Given the context clues in the movie, I’m guessing he’s limited to causes the crown wants to serve (veterans, climate, diplomacy, which all have their own values as social issues but doesn’t suit Henry) and unlike the royals in our world (yes I pay some attention to the irl royal family) he couldn’t even choose topics that interest him, that he wants to serve, like arts, LGBT, and mental health (there’s a sequel idea!!! Henry getting to choose how to use his title for causes he’s part of and care about), plus it’s clear his family, the king at least, had no interest in getting involved with LGBT issues, so he didn’t have any chance to approach the community while on duty either. Considering his grandfather warned him against pursuing relationships when he was 18, he probably was forced into some sense of shame or fear regarding any possibility of having a public relationship, which was also part of his argument during the Kensington confrontation. Seeing as Nick and Matthew decided Paris was Henry’s first time with someone he actually had feelings for, I’m guessing past hookups in said “English Boarding School” were done out of sexual frustration and some degree of rebellion, but even then it was more on the sexual side instead of anything truly affectionate, and that was still extremely secretive with stacks of NDAs.

So on Henry’s part, he was secluded in a almost forcefully heteronormative environment, never really got to see people like him in real life, in front of his eyes (reading queer history and news about LGBT rights is very different from seeing it yourself), and was told that this was something to be ashamed about, something he can’t do, something impossible. That’s why he never felt confident enough to ask for touch or touch Alex in anywhere remotely public. (He was drunk at the karaoke, and I think most of the Texas vacation was on the Claremont-Diaz’s private property, so those don’t count)

Until the palace pride protest, where thousand of people like him came to storm the palace with their rainbow flags and banners, their support, and their own identities display.

Faces with this massive display of queer pride right in front of him, Henry, maybe for the first time, sees so many people like them, and he sees that it’s okay for him to be gay, that there is nothing selfish, shameful, repulsive or unacceptable about who he is and who he loves. They’re here for him. They’re just like him. They’re proud of it. They show it.

So this time, in front of his family, a window away from the outside world, it’s his turn to ask for Alex’s hand, held between his. He’s finally confident enough in everything so tell Alex, through a wet smile, “I love you.”

Both of them look out, at the sea of colourful love and pride. Alex, who has seen this many times before in his life, but probably the first time he sees this knowing he’s part of that sea. Henry, who gets to see the crowd be proud of something he’s tried so long to conceal and hide.

Henry can be proud of his sexuality too.

And he shows it, on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, with thousands of people cheering for him and his boyfriend.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #firstprince #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #rwrb thoughts #rwrb movie analysis #rwrb meta #meta #in all honesty this is more context clues than concrete evidence #but imo it still stands #will write something about Alex's physical affection

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sirthisisa-wendys · 1 year

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Hihi… can you please write Ran, Rindou, and Kakucho with a bimbo girlfriend?? (Separately)🤞🏾 You can write Kisaki but for him the bimbo is his sister(not incest btw) ! All fluff please. I love your work it’s so well written!

Thanks for the compliments and love! Here you go, lovebug! Couldn't figure out Tetta for this one because all i see is him being endlessly annoyed with his sister and attempting to disown her somehow...

Some Things Don't Change: Ran Haitani /Rindou Haitani/Kakucho Hitto x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.1k

tw: fluff, College AU!

masterlist

Rindou Haitani (College AU)

Rindou's never really understood you. You're pretty - definitely his type. If he had the vision of his ideal Barbie doll and it came to life... you'd be the spitting image of what he was looking for. But for some reason, you're a little... well...

"Rin!"

The textbook in Rindou's hand drops to the pavement at the sound of your high-pitched voice echoing around the college square. "Hey, Rin, wait up!" And here you come, your glossy lips and platform shoes making their way across the campus.

"Hey, babe," he murmurs, stooping to pick up the fallen textbook. "What's up?"

"I was just coming to see what's up with you," you reply, looking down at the trigonometry book with a frown. "Trig class?" You blow a raspberry, and he chuckles.

"Yeah." Rindou dusts the tome off and tucks it under his arm. "You heading back to the sorority house for the afternoon or..."

"I'm going wherever you're going!" Rindou knows what he's doing when he gets you back to the Iota Kappa house, trapping you between the boys and his desire to nap.

"Izana!" Your voice carries inside the house, too. But Izana spots his favorite Iota Kappa girlfriend, and the conversation quickly begins, drifting into the kitchen.

"Rin," Ran announces, and for a second, Rindou thinks that everyone will continue to call his name until he drops dead. Ran comes down the stairs, his eyemask askew and hair slightly unkempt. "Your girlfriend is loud."

"Sorry. I should've warned you." You reappear a few minutes later, throwing your arms around Rindou and kissing his cheek repeatedly.

"Rin, we should watch a movie tonight. Izana said we could also have some of his brownies if we wanted."

"Those are pot brownies," Ran replies unbidden, rolling his eyes.

"We'll pass on those," Rindou sputters, ushering you into the den to watch a movie without bothering to address the fact that Izana would offer you a pot brownie when he knows--

"I already ate some." Rindou sighs softly, turning to you and patting your cheek gently.

"Okay, no worries." Rindou tries to stay calm, flicking on the TV and allowing you to pick the movie. You settle for Fool's Gold, and Rindou keeps an eye on you while you settle into him, tucking his arm around you. There goes his Trig homework. And a nap.

Ran Haitani

Ran knows he's late for dinner.

He drags himself up the stairs of the apartment complex and tries to make sense of how he lost the fight tonight, but it's all forgotten when he opens the door and sees you slumped over the table, your face planted firmly on the glass surface.

"Y/n?" Ran's fingers shut the door with the same careful grip he'd used on his brother an hour before, then he shakes you awake, stooping low to see your face as your lashes flutter in the dim light.

"Mmmm... Ran?" Your sleepy gaze captures his heart, but you're still dressed in your apron and day clothes - an obvious sign that you've fallen asleep while waiting for him to return. "I thought you'd never come home..."

"I'll always come home," Ran reassures you, kissing your forehead and looping his hands around your shoulders. "Come on, it's time for bed."

"But I made dinner." Ran glances at the stovetop and grimaces at the sight of the once-frozen lasagna sitting meekly in a pan.

"I'll make sure to eat some. I'm going to get you tucked in first."

"Okay..." Ran attempts to avoid the stench of the obviously not homemade dish by turning his head. Thoughts of how the lasagna will "magically disappear" float into his mind as he walks with you into the bedroom. You aren't the best cook, but you tried. And the effort is all that matters. Cereal it is.

"Maybe tomorrow we can have a nice breakfast..." Ran nods as you go on about all the things you'll make, all the pretty things you'll wear, all of the things...

"I'll take you out to eat," he chimes in, taking your apron and folding it over the dressing table chair. "And you can wear that new pair of shoes I got for you."

"Right," you muse, climbing into bed after putting on one of Ran's old t-shirts. "That new pair of shoes..." As you fall asleep again, Ran goes about the room, undressing and washing his face in the bathroom sink. Only when he's cuddled up to you does he realize you didn't even ask if the fight went okay. But tonight, he's grateful for the oversight. It'll save him some embarrassment in the morning.

Kakucho Hitto

"Kakucho, how do you spell..."

Kakucho lifts his head from his video game. "S-c-r-a-b-b-l-e."

"Thanks, honey bear," you reply, waving your pen before putting it back on the paper. "I'm almost done with the poster for game night."

"Oh, yeah?" Kakucho pauses his game, stands up, and looks over your shoulder at the pink paper covered in glitter, stickers, and - of course - your loopy handwriting taking up the rest of the space. Kakucho knows this won't attract a lot of guys to the game night he proposed two nights ago. But you look up at him, smiling wide and so proud of yourself...

"Do you think they'll like it?"

"I think they'll love it," Kakucho lies, but only to save your pride. Your face brightens, and you turn back to the paper, scribbling a little more on it.

When Kakucho takes it to Tenjiku's headquarters, he's one-fifths ashamed, but three-fifths worried it'll get laughed at and taken down instantly. It would do his heart a huge disservice, but he had to try for you.

It doesn't take long for the hardened men to catch wind of the frilly pink paper at the entrance of the building. And it takes a little while for the comments to come flooding in.

"Kakucho, did you make that?"

"Kakucho, your handwriting is so beautiful!"

"Kakucho, you're so gifted with the glitter!" Amidst the guffaws of his compatriots, Kakucho stands firm, places his hands in his pockets, and announces,

"Y/n made it for us." The laughs quiet down immediately. There's a long pause before someone's thumb raises above the crowd.

"She did a wonderful job, Kakucho."

The comments pour in again.

"Y/n did this? Wow, I would love to go to game night!"

"Is there anything we should bring?"

"Y/n must be a graphic designer! This is pure art!"

That night, many members of Tenjiku show up for games, food, and "all-around fun," as noted by your poster. Kakucho's never seen a bunch of iron-hard men turn into soft-shelled beings, but your smile and hostess skills make them melt. They even help you get things off shelves and remind you how to use the game controller when you want to play Mario Kart.

"Do you think it's going well?" you ask Kakucho as the night is winding down.

"I think it's going great. All thanks to you." Kakucho kisses your lips and then returns to his friends for an intense game of S-C-R-A-B-B-L-E.

#kakucho hitto fluff #kakucho hitto x reader #kakucho hitto #ran haitani fluff #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani fluff #rindou haitani

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 6 months

Text

“Let You Off With A Warning” - Beau Arlen x Reader

Part of the “Guardian of the Gulch” Series

Rating Teen

Beau Arlen x Reader (eventually)

Tags: Fluff and Flirting

Word Count: 1900

There's a new sheriff in town. And he just so happens to have parked his RV in your campgrounds. What's a park ranger to do with all that Texas charm strutting around on a fine pair of bow legs?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Food as Bonding" square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: ABC/Michael Moriatis)

Corey’s eyes are ready to roll right out of his eye sockets. He slumps over the counter, office phone pressed tight to his ear.

“Absolutely.” He enunciates every syllable. “Yes. I can see how that would be quite an intrusion.” Those stubby fingers snap to get your attention.

You’re finishing up your checklist after vehicle patrol. When did fireworks become an every night of the week event for days prior to the Fourth? The annoyance can become dangerous in Black Sandy State Park. Especially when bored kids and drunk adults get it in their heads to light things on fire on campgrounds during drought conditions. You’re figuring that’s what the call’s about. Things had been relatively quiet so far that night.

You had hoped they were going to stay that way. All you wanted to do was clock out in the next five minutes, get home, and catch up on “The Bachelor” episodes filling up space on your DVR.

“We’ll have someone head over and take care of it.” Corey smiles at you.

You groan back at your Park Manager. You’re the only other someone.

You head to the campsite that phoned the office first. It’s a husband and wife with a large brood. They’ve got every creature comfort under the sun - or in this case, moonlight - in their parcel paradise by Hauser Lake. The Class A motorhome makes you wonder what kind of house they left behind.

The wife is the one running her mouth at you even though the husband had called to lodge the complaint. You try to wrap your head around the noise she’s harping about and how it’s possibly bothering the four kids. All of the children are laser-focused on handheld devices. They don’t even look up when mom asks them to corroborate how annoying the sound from their neighbor is.

If you had your way, you’d block all WiFi access in every part of Black Sandy.

After the requisite pleasantries, you turn and trudge through the shadows to the lodger who’ll be getting a talking to. Though not the talk Mrs. Devonshire is expecting.

You adjust the cap on your head. The voice emerging from one solitary speaker is muffled and mono on your approach. The silver Airstream is curvy and sleek. A standout that manages to sparkle even in the dark.

Its owner sits in a lawn chair. He’s watching some old time western projected onto a white sheet tautly stretched between two poles.

His eyes have cottoned on to your movement seconds ago, you're sure of it. His day job requires him to be hyper aware of his surroundings at all times.

“To what do I owe the honor of a house call this late, Ranger? Raccoon invasion? Dump station on the fritz?” He stands to greet you. An open beer dangles from his fingertips.

“Nothing that exciting, Sheriff.” The Bachelor’s got nothing on this specimen. The handful of times you’ve crossed paths, you are never quite prepared to be in this man’s presence.

“I’m not on duty. Call me Beau, remember?” He grins to confirm the allowance of such informality.

You sigh. “Afraid I am on duty. And have to request a favor.”

He nods and tilts his head over to the Devonshires. “Let me guess? I’ve done something to upset Linda.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How��d you know?”

“I had her figured out as soon as she waltzed over to introduce herself bright and early this morning before I left for work.” His lids widen in emphasis. “Ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Is she about to release the kraken?”

You chuckle. “Just turn down the volume on your movie a smidge, please.” You pinch two fingers together. “We’ve never had a complaint about you before, so no worries. We’ll let you off with a verbal warning this time.” You grin.

He’s amused at that. “Mighty kind of ya. Well, let me do it right in front of you, so you can put it down in your incident report.” He strolls over to the speaker and dials down the knob. “Perpetrator immediately complied with the request.” He announces, a little on the loud side. “In case Linda’s watching.”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know you’re the Sheriff of Lewis and Clark County?”

He shakes his head. “How would she? I don’t think I got five words in this morning.” He lifts the lid of a green cooler with the toe of his cowboy boot, bends down and pulls out another beer bottle. He has a bounce in his step on his way back to you. “But, you know, I don’t reckon it would’ve even mattered. She still would’ve had Larry make the call.”

“How’d you know Larry called?”

He shrugs and offers you the beer. “Lucky guess.”

You wave a hand. “On duty, remember?”

A tip of his wrist has him checking his watch. “You getting paid time and a half? It’s almost nine.”

You smile at how well he catalogs information and smooth talks with all that easy Texas charm. By your second run-in with him he’d found out your work schedule and how important it was for you to stick to it. He even had you fess up, somehow, to your penchant for reality TV, especially shows of the love competition variety. You grab the beer and twist off the top. The beer tingles down your throat in a welcome swallow. “It’s all your fault I’m still here.”

“Well, then, let me make it up to you. Sit a spell.” Before you can register, he’s snapped open another lawn chair near his own. He presents it with a flourish.

“I guess I should hang around for a bit. Make sure you don’t get yourself in more trouble.” The chair settles into the dirt under your weight.

“Not the first time it’s been suggested I need a chaperone.” He sits alongside you.

You nod at the movie. “What’re you watching?”

He stares at you, disheartened. “Really?”

“I don’t do westerns.”

“Pale Rider. Clint Eastwood. It’s a classic.” His head shakes. “Kids today.”

You scoff. “Kid?”

“You can’t be more than 25,” he states with complete earnestness.

“You don’t need to butter me up, Beau. I already said you’d get off on a warning.”

“How about some bribery then, just to ensure nothing ends up on my permanent record.” He nudges a bowl on the tiny circular table in your direction.

It’s hard to make out the contents. You squint. Light from the projector brightens up the scene for a moment. “Oh, you found them.” You pull out a cherry and tug at the fruity flesh between your teeth to release the stem.

“I did. Saw ‘em at a farmer’s market in town. You were right. Flathead cherries are amazing.”

“Hm.” You concur and indulge in the sweetness. “So good.”

Beau snickers. “You two need some alone time?”

“So good,” you repeat. “First pick of the season reminds you of what you’ve been missing all year.”

He nods and grabs a couple for himself. “That’s what the guy at the stand was spoutin’.”

Beau Arlen has only been the sheriff for a few weeks. But you agree with the assessment that most have of him. He’s an affable and acceptable substitute while Walter Tubb recuperates. Arlen’s smart and ingratiates himself easily with everyone in the county. He knows those that keep things running in Helena by their first names already. And as you are someone that secures and protects a part of state land in the county under his jurisdiction– well, you get to share a beer and some cherries with him tonight.

The conversation is light and dances about with no rhyme or reason.

“What’s your favorite meal to eat back home?” He asks with great interest. With an angling of his head upward, he shoots a cherry pit out of his mouth like a mini cannonball into the shadows. You think he’s intentionally aiming in the direction of the Devonshires. “Like, the kind that needs your undivided attention?”

“Easy. Grilled salmon and roasted asparagus with mashed potatoes.”

Beau takes a swig. “Found anything comparable here?”

“Not yet. Doubtful it’ll be anything close to what I could get back home in Oregon.” You course correct and try not to be too hard on the place you’ve called home for the past two years. “But, you can fish a decent dinner out on the lake.” You thumb at the water behind the trailer. “The trout and perch are tasty.”

“I haven’t gotten around to fishing in Hauser yet.” He sighs.

“Seems like every time I turn on the local news, something major is going on in the area. Most of it ain’t good.”

“Tell me about it. I thought this would be a slow drip favor of a job for a friend. I was saying to Hoyt today that a dam holding back all the crime must’ve burst as soon as I got here.”

You make a note to give Jenny Hoyt a call. You haven’t hung out with her or Cassie in a bit. It’s time to catch up and get all the details you can about the new sheriff in town. “Well, what crime has Helena committed when it comes to your favorite meal back home?”

“Oh.” Beau’s lips flap as he releases air from his lungs. “Haven’t found a good T-bone yet. Tried grilling a couple myself but I don’t know, just not the same. What I wouldn’t do for a melt in your mouth steak with some buttered corn on the cob and a baked potato topped with sour cream and chives.” He licks his lips with a far away stare.

You grin at how fond his expression is over the memory. You kind of wish he’d stare at you like that for even a second.

Some soft pops ricochet in the night air. You both sit up at the sound.

“Fireworks.” Beau states. You nod and then wait to see if anything can be seen in the distance lighting up the sky. It quiets again after some seconds. “You better get home before you can never leave,” Beau decides. You open your mouth to protest. He only shakes his head and cuts you off. “Hey, if Corey’s got something to say about it, just tell him the sheriff can pinch hit if he needs backup.”

You smile. “Not sure if that’ll fly coming from me.”

“Then you tell him to call me if he needs confirmation.” He nods and this time the smile he gives you is fond and, dare you think it, a bit flirty. “Besides, you’ve got a bachelor waiting for you at home, doncha?”

The laugh bubbles out of you. “I doubt he’ll be any better company.” You purse your lips at the confession that gave more of your thoughts away than intended.

He stills at the compliment and takes it in for a long beat. The smile that curls up is soft and sweet. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You rise and leave the half drunk beer on the table.

Beau rises as well, always the gentleman.

“Have a good night.” You hurry out the words to match your steps.

You don’t dare turn to look back at the sheriff. You can’t stop grinning like a giddy school girl.

His voice, low and warm in the summer night, draws out, “You have a good night as well.” He adds, “Ranger.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #beau arlen x reader #fanfic #fluff #flirting

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celestialrosesgarden · 3 months

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[SPIDER-MAN X READER] Silk Threads 1.6k words

Chapter One: New York State of Mind

The city was not made for everyone. While almost every person claimed they had a 'New York state of mind' after visiting just once, only a certain kind of person can truly capture New York's real essence. The hustle and bustle of the city was exciting for the few hours of a trip to Times Square and Central Park, but day after day could break a person down. Not to mention the current uptick in crime that began a few years ago that seemed to only be getting worse with every passing day. The city was not made for the weak; the tourists only experienced the glitz and glamour while every true New Yorker was forced to face the bad and ugly the city provided.

This led to where the girl was right now. The first day of classes of her sophomore year was complete, and while the biggest issue of her day should have been the pile of work she already had accumulated, she had found herself in a worse predicament. She scoffed as she shoved herself past the group of tourists that had decided to stand in the middle of the sidewalk discussing God-knows-what. Formalities that normally slipped past her lips had been retired the first couple weeks of her freshman year. Either people would not respond, or if they did, the person would harass her— men no matter the age took her niceties as flirting and tried to take advantage of the situation. The weirdos and jerks overruled the few nice, genuine few that roamed the city, and 'excuse me' became less frequent.

However, none of that matters right now. All that mattered was getting back to her apartment as soon as possible; Knocking out her work as quickly as possible so that she could cook dinner and watch a movie as she ate to unwind from the long day. This feat was starting to seem almost impossible, and despite her fast walking the path back to her home was taking far too long. If it weren't for the singular earbud in her ear playing one of her favorite songs at a soft tune she would have freaked already. Peering through the dark screen of her sunglasses, she quickened her pace at the site of her apartment building.

Almost there, just a few more minutes.

She readjusted the backpack that was starting to slouch off her shoulders; her fingers had barely run over the cloth of the straps before she was shoved to the ground. A hooded figure darted away; her brown backpack held tightly in his grasp. The crowd around her parted, quickly trying to get out of his way.

The city was not made for the weak, and today was proof of that. Despite living here for over a year, at the end of the day, she would never be strong enough to deal with the catcalls, the hustle, the tourists, and as of right now, the crime. She glanced up from her position to a young teen with a phone in hand recording her— and to rub salt into the wound, he was sporting an 'I love NY' t-shirt. Man, how she hated this city.

"You know, it's rude to take other people's things."

Her head snapped in the direction of the voice, the crowd furthering its spread more as this newcomer dropped down from the air. The thief froze at the sight of the masked vigilante rising from a crouched pose.

"Besides, that bag does not match you at all." He turned to the pedestrian next to him and leaned towards him. "Totally not his color," he shook his head.

The thief seemed to collect his bearings, quickly whipping out a knife from his pocket: "Back up, I'm not joking around! I'll—" he jutted the knife towards the blue and red spandex dawned man, causing the people around him to back up— "I'll stab you! Just let me go."

Spider-Man raised his hands as if to surrender. "Is that a knife? Is that a real knife?" He lowered himself to the ground, before raising his hands back up as if to defend himself. "My weakness. Small knives. Anything but knives!"

The thief stood there perplexed, consequently lowering his knife. Spider-Man quickly raised his hand and with a thwip, the hand holding the knife adhered to the wall behind him with the webbing.

"Hey! Let me go!" The thief raised his other hand to pull off the webbing. With another thwip, the other hand was stuck. The man continued to struggle, yelling out obscurities. The masked vigilante turned his back to the petty thief to face the civilians that surrounded him. He raised his hand so that his thumb was pointed to said criminal over his shoulder in a 'get a load of this guy' type of manner. He then webbed both his legs. He turned before raising his hand so that his index finger laid over his mouth to 'shh' him and webbing his mouth shut.

He walked over to the thief, plucking the girl's backpack up and carrying it over to her figure that was still lying on the floor— as he walked over, he pointed to the kid in the t-shirt that was still recording the fiasco. "Hey kid, why don't you call the police for me." All the kid could muster up was a quick nod before stopping his recording to call. It wasn't until he stood right before her that she snapped out of her daze. "Need a hand?"

Her mouth remained agape for a second before she grabbed his outstretched hand. He pulled her up quickly, and a slight pain ran across her palm up to her wrist. Perhaps he was able to see the rapid wince on her face, as he gently turned her hand over to observe the palm. "Looks like you took a pretty bad fall. Make sure you clean these cuts well and patch them up." He turned his head back up to her, those big white blobs of eyes staring back at her. When seconds passed with no response, he tilted his head slightly: "You good? You didn't hit your head, did you?"

She yanked her hand out of grasp, all thoughts returning back into her head. "Yes, no. I mean—" she slightly backed up from his tall stature which seemed awfully close to her— "Yes I'm good, and no I didn't hit my head. And I'll get these hands all cleaned up once I get home." Those white eyes of his seemed to widen at her frantic words, but to her relief did not comment on it.

He raised the brown backpack into her view, "I think this is yours." She nodded, grabbed the bag, and jumped at the sound of applause around them. Despite the crowd being there for the whole situation, she seemed to forget about their existence until now. Her first run-in with the masked vigilante in her time living in the city seemed to startle her more than she anticipated. She always assumed any run-in with him would be as a bystander, not the victim. "Honestly are you alright?"

She quickly turned her head back to him. "I'm so sorry. I've never been in a situation like this before and frankly," a slight laugh slipped past her lips, "I'm overwhelmed, to say the least. Sorry, by the way, for all the staring. I'm not like this normally."

He laughed, leaning his head back and placing both hands on his hips. "Oh, trust me, I'm used to it. I have that effect on people" he tossed her a wink, causing a genuine laugh to arise. She covered her lips with her hand and as she slightly shook her head. Well, wasn't he humble?

"Thank you, by the way. I need this bag, but I feel like if he got away, he really wouldn't be happy with what's in here." Spider-Man did that little head tilt again, and his eyes slightly squinted. "All I've got in here is my laptop and my organic chemistry notes and homework. He would've been so pissed."

He laughed; head tossed back. "Honestly, I don't know what he was expecting out of a backpack other than schoolwork. But no need for thank you, it's all in a day's work for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." He looked down at her before looking at the ground, stopping low to grab objects. He straightened his back before holding the items out, "I believe these are also yours."

In his hand lay her earbud and sunglasses which must have fallen off when she was shoved. She grabbed both, placing the sunglasses on top of her head and putting the earbud into its case. She looked back up at him, eyes softening, and gently spoke: "Thank you."

He seemed to almost respond before the sound of a siren cut him off, "Well that's my cue. Just talk to the police real quick about what happened, and you can go. And try to stay out of trouble." She nodded before turning to peer at the blinding flashing lights from the cop cars that seemed to be getting closer. She lowered her glasses back onto her face to help ease the pain of the bright lights, before turning back to the masked hero.

"Got it. I think I can manage that; thank you again." She looked into those reflective big white eyes of his mask and watched as he turned his head. He raised his hand and with a thwip, he shot a web onto a nearby building.

He turned back, and the girl waited for his words— as if he would say the most groundbreaking, life-changing worlds to her. "Nice shades." And with that he was off, swinging from building to building until he disappeared out of sight. What a bizarre day. New York City was definitely not made for the weak.

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virgilisspidey · 1 year

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And so... They Finally Meet

Here it is!! The one shot i promised for @tmntaucompetition!!

GO VOTE FOR TWO SOULS

Leo squints at the massive crowd around them, all watching in anticipation to see who wins this silly game of basketball. This wasn't their first ball game, so to speak, and yes that pun was very much intended. In fact, this was their second time, although the first time was all about Aoi.

Apparently he's considered as a peepaw by the all powerful universe and yeeted him to a tournament to fight other peepaws like him.

Leo, Donnie, and April were lucky enough to get dragged along.

The experience was... Weird. Seeing plenty of versions of himself old and wrinkly does made him dread the future even more. He really needs to take more care about his self image, maybe take it upon himself to do some skin care, if there was something available for mutant turtles that is.

This time around, though, Raph and Mikey got dragged along with them. They spent about an hour trying not to die when one of them wanders off since it was their first time (as if they weren't that much worse when the peepaw tournament started, April had to drag Leo away before he accidentally hurt himself because of his big mouth)

This was a more calm match, however.

"Oh, hey!" April points across the court, "the purple one kind of looks like the Ghost guy that Aoi met!"

"Probably a much younger, not that much stressed version of Ghost," Donnie says, scowling at the lack of reception on his phone, "didn't know he had brothers in another universe."

"What if he did belong to another universe but got dragged into one like ours?" Raph asks.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Nah!" Mikey brushes off, "That's too crazy even for me!"

(So close... yet so far...)

"But hey, look! Donnie, you're a baby!" Leo coos, to which his twin scowls at him, elbowing him hard on the side.

"Stop frowning, Donnie, you're gonna be a bad influence!" April teases, poking him on the cheek, "We dont want the kid to learn how to frown now, do we?"

"I will not hesitate to bite."

Raph suddenly gathers them into a circle, like how they see people usually huddle up in sports movies before the big game. Leo sticks his tongue out at Donnie, who rolled his eyes. While that happens, the blue clad turtle felt Aoi's cold presence squeezing himself in the circle, looking over at his shoulder.

"So! Game plan—"

"Donnie doesn't get to play," Leo states immediately, not even letting Raph finish his sentence.

"OFFENDED GASP! What do you mean i dont get to play?!"

"You are bad at sports that involves any type of ball."

"Yeah, that's true," Mikey agrees.

"I do know how to play this particular game!"

"You can't even pronounce it, Donnie."

"I do, in fact, as skilled as i am in the sport, know how to pronounce the game that is played with balls and hoops!"

"Say it then."

"No."

"Uh... Excuse me...?"

The brothers all stop their bickering, turning all of their heads to the voice that was invading their brain storming space.

It was a tortoise wearing an orange space heroes (Aoi squints at it, it looks familiar) hoodie with thick square framed classes taped on his face. He gave them a nervous smile, hand up to give an awkward wave but instead hung loosely and limply instead.

"They said we were supposed to be here," He says.

That's when they noticed the people with him.

He's with quite the crowd.

There's this girl in purple with a beanie on, a baseball bat in her hand, resting it over her shoulder. She gave April a smirk when she stared at the bat, fingers flexing on the handle. There's another mutant that seemed to be a plant. They're wearing a ninja outfit similar to Cassandra, but it was long sleeved with a long red scarf that covered the lower half of their face.

Behind them were two adult turtles, probably in their early 20s, easily identifiable as the Mikey and Donnie of their universe. They're the same species so they know they're probably from a different "iteration" whatever that meant, since being different turtles seemed to be unique to Leo's and other versions' of him's universe.

The taller of the two wore a dark lab coat, his hands burried deep in his pockets. His eyes were similar to Mikey's, but a much deeper red that it makes it look brown. The mask on his face had longer tails and worn like an actual mask rather than a bandana. He had this choker around his neck that had a symbol, probably a logo. He was watching them, which made Leo a little bit insecure from the stare alone. The other turtle, one bearing hundreds of freckles om his face, wore this hood poncho thing in orange with a blue flower patch stitched on it, it looked like whoever did so was inexperienced. His baby blue eyes watched them with interest, unlike his brother, his curiosity was more innocent.

They were taller than all of them except Raph.

"Oh, are you lost?" Raph asks, "Maybe you're in the wrong court? We're already full here."

"No actually," their Donnie, let's call them by their full names now, shook his head, "We're told we're against the universe with a baby version of an alternate universe me."

"Say that five times fast," the girl in purple says, earning her a silent look to stay quiet from the plant mutant.

"Oh... But that's who we're also up against," April says.

"Yeah, we know, little dudes" Michelangelo says, "the coordinators said we're teamed up, though."

Teamed up???

Leo felt Aoi shift a bit farther away, a cold feeling rushing through his veins. Not the usually comforting cold, but nervousness... A spike of panic?

"How is that even possible?" Mikey decides to ask, "Maybe there's some sort of mistake?"

"Maybe we're a crossover?" the tortoise suggests, everyone turned to look at him, waiting for an explanation, making him fumble with his words, "b-because— you know... Uh, i've seen countless of other alternate universes here that has at you guys in it with other different looking turtles! So i uh... I assumed that— maybe— we belong in the same bubble in the multiverse, we just haven't crossed paths yet and this tournament brought us together way out of our designated appearances—"

"That's enough rambling, Ryan."

The younger turtles and April all swerved towards the voice.

They see a turtle dragging a teen by their arm.

The teen was wearing blues, their strawberry blonde hair was tied into low ponytails with pink ribbons, their grayish blue eyes rolling at something that was probably told to her before she was dragged back to her little group.

She was grabbed by her shoulders and gently placed between her friends, to which she pouts.

Then there's this universe's Raph.... He wasn't as big as they expected, but he's still tall. He wore a red kimono that had ripped at the ends, probably from the countless of fights. It had a turtle shell design fading from dark reds to light pinks, complimented by a green obi. His mask, like their own Raph, was tattered at the tails, he had this permanent scowl on his face as his green eyes glared forward.

Huh... The exact same shade as Leo's own eyes...

Weird.

What's weirder was the blue mask innocently wrapped around his neck.

Cold washed over him once more and he felt an onslaught of emotions. Anxiety, regret, fear, grief....

and guilt...?

Leo shivers but he pushes the feelings down.

They're not his...

"Okay— there's has to be a misunderstanding— HEY WAIT A MINUTE!"

Leo cut himself off when he finally gets a closer look at the new girl. He pointed at her in an accusing manner.

"YOU'RE THE RANDO THAT THREW A BRICK AT ME!"

"Correction," the girl didn't even hesitate, "You were in the way."

"WHY YOU LITTLE—"

(Yep... There's no way they'll win with the team already on each other's throats.)

#rottmnt two souls #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 meanwhile #tmnt au competition #THIS IS THE ONLY THING I CAN PROVIDE SKFKGOG #more to come hopefully #Turning this ball game angsty

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