#so for the whole show to shoot itself in the foot

[woso-dreamzzz]

Firsts III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You lose your first tooth

The day you lose your first tooth, is the day that Momma kicks you in the face with a ball.

It's still morning. You'd spent the first half of your day at school doing Maths and German before Morsa came to pick you up. She takes you home to have lunch because she and Momma have afternoon training today.

She's actually cooking for lunch today. When you spend the whole day at school, she gives you a packed lunch with all of your favourite snack foods and some things to swap with the kids at your school. At the weekends, you don't really eat a lot until dinner so having a cooked lunch is special.

You can see here through the kitchen window as Momma chips the ball over your head.

You huff. "Momma! Stop it! I can't get it if you do that!"

"You can't save every shot, princesse," Momma reminds you like she always does when she does something like this.

You roll your eyes. "I'm only little, Momma," You say," We're only practicing." You roll the ball back to her.

Momma smiles. "Sorry, princesse. I'll make sure you can get this one."

Usually, you would be able to get it. Pernille knows the moment her foot strikes it that she's hit it too hard, hit it hard like she's at practice and is actually shooting against a professional keeper.

It's fast too and smacks you in the face before you can raise your hands to catch it. The force of it tips you back and you land on the ground with a thud.

Immediately, you burst into tears.

Pernille tries to scoop you up but you squirm away from her even as she tries to dab the blood from your mouth.

You spit

A glob of blood appears in your hand along with a tooth.

You look at it in shock. You look at Momma.

"Morsa!" You yell, running inside.

Morsa's standing over the stove, stirring a pot of boiling water and pasta. "Hmm? What is it? Have you two broken the goalposts again?"

Your goal at home wasn't a proper goal. It was made of plastic tube things that had to be slotted together. Sometimes, when you dived for the ball, you hit the posts and they got loose.

You shake your head.

"Look!"

Morsa turns to look at you before her eyebrows shoot up in shock.

There's dirt on your face and your lips are red with a little bit of blood.

"What happened to you?!"

"Momma kicked the ball at me," You whine, stamping your feet," My tooth's gone!" You hold up the glob of blood to show your tooth but Morsa seems too preoccupied with looking at your gums.

One of your canines is missing and there's a bit more blood than there should be if the tooth had just fallen out naturally.

"That looks like it hurt," Morsa says.

You nod miserably.

"Let's get something cold on that."

When it's time to leave for training you're still a little tearful and you're mourning the loss of your tooth as you stick your tongue into the sensitive bit of gum it left.

Pernille feels horrible and you absolutely refuse to let her even touch you. You stick close to Magda, who shows you and your little mouth gap off to the rest of the Bayern girls.

"You don't look happy," Georgia says as she sits next to Pernille and laces up her boots," Aren't parents meant to be super happy after their kid's teeth fall out or something?"

"It didn't fall out by itself," Pernille admits," I kicked a football at her face."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

"And it knocked it straight out?"

"She bled a lot," Pernille said," And it's a little achy. She's sad."

"Well, once the tooth fairy comes, she'll be happy again."

"What's the tooth fair?"

Georgia jumps when you suddenly appear in front of them. She can see the gap in your teeth as you talk and, as Pernille said, you do seem a little sad.

You're standing in front of them but give no indication that you even know Pernille's there.

"Well..." Georgia says," It's a little fairy that collects teeth?"

"But why?"

"Er...Because she likes them?"

Your brow furrows and you cover your mouth with your hand. "Is she going to take all of my teeth?"

"No, princesse," Pernille says. Your eyes flick to her for a moment before settling on the floor," You put the tooth you lost under your pillow and she'll take it while you're sleeping."

"She'll leave money too!" Georgia says helpfully and that makes you lift your gaze, to check with Pernille that what Georgia's saying is true.

She nods. She doesn't exactly want to agree with this but at this point, anything to get you to forget that she's the reason that you've lost your tooth in the first place.

"And I put my tooth under my pillow and she comes to get it?"

"Yes."

"And she gives me money?"

"Yes."

You think for a moment, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet before you reach out for Pernille's hand. You yawn.

"I'm tired, Momma," You say," Can we go home now?"

Momma laughs. "Nice try, Princesse but we've still got a few more hours of training left."

You whine and groan the entire training session and it's a struggle to stop you from putting yourself to bed as soon as you get home.

You still end up going to bed earlier than usual but Pernille waits hours until she knows you're actually asleep to slip in.

"Don't give her too much," Magda says as she sits up in bed and reads through her book.

"I won't," Pernille lies.

You look adorably sweet and soft when she slips into your bedroom. Your mouth is slightly open and your face is squished against girl-moose as you cradle girl-swan close to your chest.

Pernille swaps your tooth with some money.

"All done?" Magda asks.

Pernille nods.

Magda was in for a rude awakening when you came running in the next day at dawn.

"Momma! Morsa! The tooth fairy left me ten euros!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

[ddejavvu]

okay I have a vision so (younger obv) reader is new to the bau and they all get called in for case but she was out with her friends clubbing and she is wearing one of those playboy bunny costumes because it was like a costume night or something like that (sorry can't thinking of something else😭) anyway she can't change her outfit because her apartments on the other side of town so she just shows up in her costume and when hotch sees her he like freezes because "omg shes so hot but I can't shes to young for me" and the whole case he's really distracted because he can't get that image of her out of his head and everytime they talk he gets really flustered but tries to hide it...

and I haven't actually thought of an ending but I just love flustered hotch 🤭🤭

You're not quite sure Penelope's 'AVENGERS ASSEMBLE !!! COME AS YOU ARE' text had quite meant this.

Storming through a government building in a bunny suit feels like treason. Somehow. You make it to the BAU's floor, and you're thankful no one else is in on a Friday night. It's just the round table room that's full, and every step you take towards it feels like a step towards death itself.

You try not to walk in like a cartoon character, leading with your whole body instead of slipping a heeled foot through the door first, then letting it trace up your thigh. Your shoulders are hunched and your hands are gripping your eared-headband so tightly that you think the plastic will snap.

Aaron's eyes land on you, and he thinks he's going to explode. Really, he's never popped a boner this fast in his life. The shuffle of his chair sliding further towards the desk to hide his lap isn't noticed, though, everyone is staring at you.

"I will change on the jet," You don't let anyone get a word in, stalking towards your seat, "I didn't have time to change."

"Woah," Derek eyes your bodysuit amusedly, and you're pleased to discover that even if he's teasing you, his gaze isn't predatory, "Not that I'm complaining, Y/N, but why do you look like this?"

Aaron's fist clenches around the screen remote so tight that he hears the plastic creaking.

"I was drinking with my friends," You sink into your seat, bare thighs against the leather as your bodysuit blends in, "And it was theme night at our favorite bar. Something about Res-Erection," You recite with burning cheeks, "People get really creative for Easter."

"Nothing like celebrating Jesus by gluing a tail to your ass," Emily snorts, then her face falls slightly, "That is.. glued, right?"

"Yes!" You shriek, burying your face in your hands, "Oh my god, everyone stop talking! I told you I'd change on the jet!"

"Let's get started," Aaron commands, and you send him a sheepish, thankful glance. He's not sure why he did it, whether it was to save you from teasing or save himself from his jealousy, but either way, you're both glad for the subject change.

--

Unfortunately, Aaron is distracted. For the first and only time in his life, he's unable to worry about the serial killer you're chasing, and more concerned on scrubbing his brain of the image of your bunny costume. He likes it, he loves it, but he shouldn't be thinking about it, so he's trying to run a deep clean on his brain.

The seat beside him hisses with air as you plop down in it, now fully clothed in jeans and a blouse. Everyone is theorizing as they read through M.E reports, and you use the distraction to lean in.

"Thank you, Hotch." You hum beside his ear, and tingles shoot up his spine, "I appreciated you changing the subject back there. Oh- and, uh, I'm sorry for being so unprofessional. It won't happen again."

"It's alright," Aaron's tongue feels numb as he avoids meeting your eye, now much more interested in the police reports in front of him, "Things happen, it's not your fault. And it was, uh, revealing, yes," He blushes, praying you don't notice, "But nothing I'm going to have you arrested for."

"I think I'll lend it to Morgan," You muse, still murmuring so close to his ear that he's having trouble breathing, "He'd look good with the ears."

He plays along, ignoring the lingering thought in the back of his mind that he would wear the ears if you asked him to, "No, I think Reid would be a better fit. He twitches his nose a lot already."

"You're right," You gasp, knocking your elbow into his, "Thanks, Hotch."

"What are you two gossiping about?" Rossi raises an eyebrow, and Aaron keeps his eyes diligently on his paperwork.

"We're planning Reid's next Halloween costume," You inform them, "Spence, you like magic, right?"

"I do," He nods carefully, "Why?"

"Rabbit in a hat," Hotch murmurs, still scanning the pages as he nods thoughtfully, "Good thinking, Y/L/N. And we can saw Morgan in half."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

[hyperactively-me]

i'll be your motivation

“I don’t…” you slur, squeezing your eyes shut. The last thing you see before collapsing fully on the ground are a pair of dark boots running towards you, your world fading to black. 

just wanted to ask you guys to please read this

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

This is bad. Really bad. Blood is seeping out of your pants, soaking through the dark material. The red doesn’t show easily through the color of the material, but there's obvious dark blotting where the wound is. You quickly shove your blaster into your thigh strap before reaching up to grab at the rubble to pull yourself up. The movement shakes you to your core, pain permeating your body as you pull yourself up right. It’s enough to make your vision blur and tears prick the corner of your eyes. You hiss as you take a step forward, the affliction shooting hot flashes up your leg with the sudden movement. 

You had no idea when you got shot during the fight, but the adrenaline was obviously wearing off now. The bounty proved to be more elusive than previously thought as the bounty had backup. I know right, who’d have thought that the bounty would be such a coward as to hire backup fighters. 

Yet, here we are, you thought with a wince. Suddenly, the sound of a jetpack fills your ears. You twist your head to the side and watch as Din gracefully touches down, meticulously avoiding stray rubble. You straighten your spine as you watch him slowly walk towards you, his hand holding his side. Din approaches and stops a few inches from you, breathing hard.

“You okay?” he grunts out, clutching his side tighter. 

“I– yeah I think so” you push out, twisting your leg away from his field of vision with a small wince. 

“Your side, is it…?” you question him, pointing a finger towards where he had his hand covered.

“It’s probably nothing, just took a nasty hit there” he drones out, shifting his weight on his feet. You nod, unsure of what to say to him. Another shooting pain rushes up your leg and you bite your lip in an attempt to subdue the pain. He stares at you for a moment. 

“Let’s head back” he says definitely, turning on his heel and making his way towards the direction of the Crest. 

“Right” you call after him, inhaling a shaky breath. You hesitantly test out your footing, the gash searing with pain with the movement. The afflicted area begins to throb now, pain permeating throughout your whole body. Your head is pounding. You shiver, your whole body quivering in pain. 

“Din–” you cry out, knees quaking under the overwhelming pain. Your vision blurs, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

The glint of his armor dances in the blur of your eyes, his body turning around at your cries. Your body begins to give out, you stumble over your own feet, pulling at the skin and muscle around the wound. You go to take another step forward, but immediately your legs give out from under you, landing hard on your hands and knees. 

“I don’t…” you slur, squeezing your eyes shut. The last thing you see before collapsing fully on the ground are a pair of dark boots running towards you, your world fading to black. 

- - - - - 

Your eyes flutter open, stirring from the grogginess of sleep. A dull pain radiates from your leg, a rush of consciousness pours into your mind. Your steady breathing increases, your chest taking a deep inhale.

“Sweetheart.”

A husky voice rings out, your eyes opening wider at the sound. 

You groan out in pain, shifting slightly on the soft surface you were laying on. You’re brought out of your trance when a sudden stabbing pain erupts from your leg. You shriek, shooting up from your position on the cot, the blood rushing to your head. A strong hand plants itself on your chest, spanning across your stomach. The hand moves up and down on your stomach as your breathing comes out ragged, your face flush with color. 

“Lay back down” he says gruffly, pushing you back down with a gentle yet firm hand. You gulp, nodding your head quickly before plopping down on the cot. You scrunch your eyes shut, letting out a quick breath through your nose. 

He’s touching your leg. He’s touching your leg. He rolled up your pant leg and now he’s prodding the wound with some bacta spray and antiseptics. 

You twist the sheets in your grip, a hiss escaping your lips through gritted teeth as he applies antiseptic to the open wound. Your eyes follow his hands, noticing his gloves are discarded. 

You’re snapped out of your trance when he huffs out impatiently. 

“How long did you think you could hide that?” his voice is strained, anger seeping through the cracks of the modulator. His helmet glints in the dim light of the ship. 

Your mouth hangs open a little, unsure of how to respond. Your mouth opens and closes, thoughts trying to formulate in the fogginess of your brain. You flounder, hands gripping onto the sheets tighter, twisting it in your hold. 

“I didn’t…I thought I could fix it up myself” you blurt out. 

He yanks his helmet off his head, setting it down with a loud thunk on the floor. His nostrils are flared, his jaw is set. He looks angry. But he also looks worried? He looks conflicted on what to feel, emotions flashing through his eyes. Your eyes widen at his sudden action, taking in his face. It’s been a while since you’ve seen it. Same old brown eyes, hooked nose, tousled dark hair. 

“What do you mean? I just don’t understand how you thought you could successfully heal and bandage a blaster shot without me noticing.” His words tumble out quickly, his raw voice ringing in your ears. No modulator, no helmet. It’s like music to your ears, but it’s hard to think about that when he’s jumping down your throat for being so secretive. As if he hasn’t tried to pull similar stunts before. 

You scoff at his words, entertained by the irony of them. 

“Oh, so you’ve let me help you on the countless occasions of you coming back home with injuries far worse than mine? Help me understand that, Din” you spit out, sarcasm dripping from your voice. Your brows furrow as you speak, a frown erupting on your face. It’s always a struggle trying to get him to let you help him with injuries after encountering elusive bounties. You nearly have to wrestle him to the ground on occasion just to let you assess the damage dealt under his armor. 

“That’s different.”

“How?!”

“It just is.”

“Enlighten me, please.” 

“I’ve lived by myself for years. I know how to handle myself, how to handle my injuries. I’ve healed them all.”

“That doesn’t mean you did a good job at it. You’re covered in scars!”

He stills at your words. Regret creeps into your stomach, realizing your words went too far. You shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have pointed out something that is so painfully obvious to him, something that is a sore subject for him. You didn’t mean to, it just spilled out in the heat of the moment. Your face flushes as his mouth opens and closes, struggling to find something to say.  

“So what do you want me to do?” his voice growing louder, his eyes widening. His jaw is ticking now, anger present on his face. 

“I want you to let me help you!” you cry out.

“I want you to let me help you!” you cry out. “I try my best Din. I really do. I just don’t know how to help you sometimes” your throat hurts from straining your voice. You cross your arms over your chest and turn your head away from his gaze, huffing from his words. 

“Then you can begin by letting me help you with this blaster shot in your leg, sweetheart” Din exclaims, his hands reaching to grab your leg again. His large hand gently pulls your leg towards him, a stark contrast from his sharp words. He begins pulling out bandages to start dressing your wound. 

You don’t resist, no matter how much you want to. He’s made you so upset, a range of emotions pouring out from a deep feeling in your chest. The room is quiet, save for the soft humming of the ship. 

“Maker, I don’t know if I want to yell at you more or kiss you” you say, reaching out and grasping Din’s hand tightly. 

His head shoots up, soft brown eyes studying your face. Your heart stutters to a stop in your chest. Your eyes dart up to his face, his expression wrinkled and conflicted. He drags his hand from his chin up to his forehead, eliciting a deep sigh. He runs his hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. He looks at you impatiently before leaning towards you slowly, entering your personal space. 

Din pulls your hand up gently, kissing the knuckles before giving you a slight nod. You take this as permission to kiss him, leaning forward from your position on the cot and sitting fully upright with a small grunt. Your whole body tingles, heart racing from your own words. You tilt your head forwards until your lips connect with his.

As your lips meet, your eyes slide closed and you let out a sharp inhale through your nose, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours. You rest your hands on top of his shoulders, pulling him in closer to you until his chest is touching yours. Din pulls back a little faster than you want, breaking the kiss in order to breathe. Your eyes meet his, watching his chest slightly heave in the dim room. 

“You want more?” he breathes out, voice husky and low. You reach your hands around his neck, nodding your head quickly. 

“Please.” 

Din surges forward once more, kissing you harder this time. He slowly pushes you into the cot, resting his body weight over your chest. You’re horizontal now, bringing your hands up to thread through Din’s tousled hair. His arms rest on both sides of your head, kissing you like there’s nothing else in the world. You finally break the kiss, gulping in the cool air of the ship. His ears are red, face flushed. You hum to yourself, wondering how you were able to get him so undone after your argument. Which you realized you still have not resolved. 

“Sweetheart…” his voice comes out hoarse, he takes your hand in his. Din’s thumb rubs circles around your palm, an act of tranquility in an environment where emotions are running high. 

“I’m sorry” he says quietly, eyes downcast. 

“No, I should be the one apologizing, Din” you say, tugging his hand slightly, causing him to look up at you. 

“I– I should have told you earlier–” 

“I know.” 

“But you also need to let me help you, Din” you say pointedley. His lips part in surprise, as if he were about to say something, brows furrowing as he takes hold of your hand again. 

You squeeze his hand tightly. “I know that you’ve been alone all this time, but you have someone now. Someone who cares about you, and someone who knows how to take care of you.” His hand tightens in your hold, his fingers softly rubbing your knuckles.  “Just let me take care of you” you whisper. 

He nods slowly, cupping your face with a gentle touch. You bring a hand to his, leaning into his touch. 

“Ok” he says quietly. You hum in acknowledgement as he releases his hands from your face. 

“But sweetheart,” he pauses. You look at him expectantly, fidgeting with the sheets around you. “Don’t hide something like that from me ever again” he says darkly, eyes narrowing. You shiver under his gaze. 

“I can’t risk losing you over something like that. Promise me you won’t” he says, voice low and tender. 

You wrap your hands around Din’s neck, pulling him into your shoulder. He rests his forehead on your shoulder, bringing his hands up and around your torso, pulling you in close to him.

 “I promise.” 

#➶-͙˚ ༘✶ din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin one shot #din dijarin fanfiction #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolarian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fan fiction #mando x reader #mandalorian imagine #grogu #star wars #hyperactivelyme

[undercoverpena]

"jealousy isn't a good look"

!!

😏 so, instead of admitting that he’s jealous. javier rocks up to the bar—dragging Steve with him—to overlook you flirting-not-flirting with someone from the CIA. and cause I love what I have written, I’m gonna share some of it.

javier peña x f!reader • drabble 18+ themes.

dedicating to @swiftispunk because they loved this idea yesterday and now I wanna make their day spicy

He’s looking you up and down—dragging sharp glares up and down your skin. You can feel the storm in them, how it chokes you—the wave of anger which flows from him, shooting itself across the bar.

That the unbridled annoyance has chewed into the brown of his eyes, swallowing all colour—leaving only simmering darkness.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you think of how hard he’d fuck you in his current mood. How he’d likely press your cheek and chest against the wall, teasing you until you couldn’t speak.

Not letting you fall over the cliff until you were begging.

He’d most likely bend you over, uncomfortably so, before sliding into you in one smooth movement. How he’d make your thighs tremble, leave little teeth marks in hidden places—a reminder of how far you’d taken all of this. That the back of your head would meet the wall with each thrust, nails digging into your own calves as he makes you feel faint and good all at once.

Then, he turns his head away, and the defiance angers you more than his original glare. You think of pulling his chin, forcing him to look at you.

Instead, you plaster on a sweet smile. Sliding from beside him to the place between his thighs, spreading them with your hips as he grunts.

“Steve, you should go home…”

“On it,” the blond says, draining his glass, and patting Javi on the back as he leaves.

Feeling Javi shift on the stool, you let your fingers stroke his neck before forcing his eyes to yours.

“Javier.”

His silence speaks volumes.

So, you run your thumb against his jaw, coolly saying, “Javi.”

He rolls his eyes before meeting yours, sighing in response. Letting your palms rest on either side of his cheek.

If the shoe were on the other foot, you know he’d have thrown you over his shoulder. He’d have been pissed at you, beyond pissed, that you were ignoring him—and you’re being patient, kinder than he would be.

But it’s running out. Growing thin with each second, he says nothing—his annoyance, jealousy, and likely a whole host of emotions, swarming in his eyes.

The speckles of gold amongst the dark, pulling you in, likely desperate to not melt and let himself be angry.

“Your friend looks lonely,” he says coldly.

Smirking, you lick your lips, purposefully moving closer to him, leaving no room. “I think I’m okay here.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

He snorts, turning his eyes but not his face. “Yeah, seems it.”

“How about you just tell me you’re jealous, and you want me to stand here with you, and then we can pretend we’re not fucking—like we always do—and then later, when the sun has set, I’ll show up to your place and you’ll give me various reasons why sleep isn’t as good as you?”

Glaring, jaw rocking from side to side, considering your words before he shakes his head. “I’m not jealous.”

“You’re being childish.”

“And you’re being a brat.”

You smirk, coldly at that. “And, how are you going to fix that, Peña?”

AN: I think this one will smut close to the sun.

#asked and answered #kind souls #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x f!reader #narcos x reader #pedro pascal characters #javi pena x reader #javi peña narcos #javi peña x you #javier pena x you #javi pena #Javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader smut

[circe69]

Fireworks

♥ simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ♥ narrative: i think it can speak for itself, i was kicking my feeeettt lemme tell ya ♥ cw: reader wears bikini top, suggestiveness. ♥ tags: making out, play fighting on the beach, soft!simon, unmasked!simon

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥ ♡　♥　♡　♥　♡ ♥ ♡　

“I’m gonna go outside. I wanna see the fireworks,” you say as you turn the golden knob on the front door. 

The whole troop was on a mini vacation, staying in a few different beach houses along the coast of South Carolina. Simon grunted in agreement and followed shortly after you. 

“I’ll come too. Just in case.”

You hear his boots clanking behind you and you nod. 

The breeze was cool, and the sun had just set a few minutes before, leaving the sky slightly orange mixed with the blue. 

You were wearing a black bikini top and black shorts as you stepped onto the sand from the wooden porch, and Simon wore an old gray t-shirt that hugged his body perfectly, along with black sweatpants. 

A vacation was a vacation, you would’ve been happy to be anywhere off duty, but Simon was always skeptical, and always aware of your surroundings, maybe even more than he was aware of his own. 

You felt the warm sand between your toes and let out an exhale that you had been holding all day. As you took a step closer to the ocean, you looked up to see the fireworks shooting in the sky. 

Gasping with excitement, you pointed and screamed towards the sky, “Simon, look how cool!”

You heard no response, so you turned around, keeping your eyes on the lights as long as you could before you said, “Simon? -”

Simon was standing there, bare feet planted into the ground, staring directly at you. He was probably only a few feet away, but he was close enough that you could feel his heavy breaths. 

He hadn’t even looked up at the sky once, his eyes didn’t move away from your face. You stared back at his maskless face, almost mad at him that he wasn’t wearing it. 

“You better put that mask back on or I’m gonna start to get used to it,” you teased as you turned back around so your back was facing him. You looked back up to the fireworks, watching the lights jump across the sky and reflect onto the ocean. 

Simon took a few steps forward, so he was standing right next to you. He hadn’t spoken the entire time you were outside, even though you had addressed him multiple times. It was something that you were used to, though. 

You felt his hand sneak down to rest on the small of your bare back, and you turned to face him abruptly. His eyes were still on yours as you stared up to him. 

“I like watching the lights in your eyes.” Simon whispered as his fingers danced slowly around the soft skin on your back, sometimes tangling themselves in the straps of your top. It was all gentle though. Everything about him was so gentle, even if he didn’t want it to seem like that. It’s how you always saw him. 

You didn’t answer him, all you did was wrap your arm around his torso and lean into his side. The two of you looked back up at the sky, then you looked down at the ocean, waves crashing into the dry sand and back into itself. 

Taking a few steps forward, Simon’s hand slid off your back. You walked into the ocean, letting the water run over your feet. After a while of standing there, he walked up again to be next to you, like a little lost dog. You wanted to play around a little bit, so you used your foot to splash some water on his. 

He quickly looked at you, mouth slightly agape, but you didn’t even look back at him. You just kept staring at the sky with a small smirk on your face. 

Copying your antics, Simon crouched down and used his hands to splash water on the entirety of your legs, making you shriek and squirm around. You started laughing and crouched down as well to get better leverage on him. You used both of your hands and full force to completely soak his t-shirt, making his muscles show even better than they already were. 

He slowly looked up at you, “Run.”

You started laughing your head off and tripping over yourself as you took off running. Coming close behind you was a shirtless man, who was pretending to be angry, but it was failing miserably. He dropped his wet t-shirt in the sand, and you sprinted as fast as you could. 

As you saw him running after you, he looked so happy. 

He’s still such a kid at heart, you thought. Seeing his sweatpants rolled up a little past his calves, and his wide smile made you feel so safe.

Eventually, you slowed down, secretly wanting him to catch you. His naked torso crashed into you, wet arms wrapping around your frame while throwing you down in the sand close to the ocean, letting the small waves crash over you. 

“No, no please,” you cried out, laughing, “I honestly just wanted to see you take your shirt off, I swear!” You braced yourself onto his large shoulders as he dragged his hands down both of your sides, letting his legs straddle your hips. 

His laugh sent shivers across your whole body, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Just tear it off ‘f me then.” Goosebumps erupted on your arms as he leaned back up to look down at your face. His hair was slightly disheveled, a little wet and curly from the salty air. 

“I would’ve if you had gotten any closer to me,” you teased, a little out of breath. You panted as he smiled, his eyes roaming across your figure. 

He leaned back down, hovering his lips over yours for a few seconds, while you exchanged breaths back and forth. Your eyes were heavy, and you shivered as his hands moved up your stomach. 

His lips crashed into yours, encasing your mouth completely. You wrapped your hands around his neck, then grabbed fistfuls of his hair, making him groan into your mouth. His tongue swept across your lips, as if he was begging for you to open your mouth. As soon as you did, he breathed deeply into you, then slightly reined back to say, “Is this close enough?” 

You were about to respond when the water hit your arm, making you shiver. 

“Yes,” you finally whispered after shaking uncontrollably. 

You kissed him again, pulling his body back down to yours, trying to warm up. He slid his hot hand around your waist and grabbed slightly, calming your goosebumps with every touch. He slowly broke from the kiss and leaned his forehead against yours. Your eyes drifted back and forth from his mouth to his eyes, then finally you looked back up to the fireworks, which had started to dial down. 

“I like seeing you like this, Simon.” You said, running your fingers through his hair. He smirked as he burrowed his face into your neck, saying, “Well get used to it.”

#ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #modern warfare #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #circe69scribbles

[myosotisa]

Old Heart - Part 3 - Bend

‖ chapter summary: The fall of the Memphis Quarantine Zone. Eddie, Max, and you have to fight your way out.

‖ tags: enemies to lovers, age gap (41 and 25), forced proximity, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, HEA, "zombie" apocalypse, reader uses she/her pronouns, no y/n, no physical description given, minors dni

‖ chapter warnings: graphic violence. I cannot stress this enough. blood, dismembering, people eating people, death, burning alive, gun violence, melee violence. it's gruesome, in line with the content from the game and the show, so please tread carefully.

‖ word count: 8.5k

‖ prev ‖ ao3 ‖ masterlist ‖ tag list request ‖ next ‖

10pm on Wednesday, August 17th, 2016 – Memphis, Tennessee

The alarm rings out 3 times before you get the feeling it wasn’t a mistake. You rush for the window on the right, Eddie rushing for the left, as you both push the blinds out of the way to look out.

All the lights in the zone seem to have shut off at once. There are a few scattered bulbs still on the wall, probably emergency backups, and the only other thing you can see is the flickering glow of the huge bonfire a few blocks away. The alarm continues to blare in the silence of the night – your eyes scanning what little you can see in the dark to see if there is anything amiss.

“Has this happened before? Like some kind of drill?” You glance over at Eddie who is still looking intently out the window, jaw set tight.

“Not in the 5 years I’ve lived here.” His hand lifts, fingers feeling along the window frame in front of him in a soft skate until he reaches something. Fingers curl in and the side of his fist taps twice against the spot before he forces the window open an inch or two.

The alarm is much louder in the open air. A harsh clanging that drills into your skull over and over and over. Both of you stand frozen before your own windows, spines straight and on edge as you wait.

Neither of you know exactly what you’re waiting for.

An unrecognizable reverberation rises from the south – a metallic groaning sound, like the hull of a ship stretching and shrinking in the ocean waves. It goes on for 45 seconds or so beneath the alarm before it cuts off with a harsh grinding noise. Another minute of silence, just your own heavy breathing and the underlying blare that starts to fade into background noise the longer it goes on.

An explosion sounds to the north. It echoes out across the concrete walls and sends the whole building shuttering on its foundations. The windows rattle in their frames while a glass in the kitchen falls and shatters – as if there was an earthquake. When you look out the window again, a cloud of dust and smoke begins to slither its way up the north wall, the orange dance of flames coloring the dark gray smoke toward the bottom before it dips behind the buildings and out of view.

The sound of gunfire comes next, vibrating back and forth along the city blocks and making it impossible to tell where it’s coming from. “Fuck, Eddie…” Your head whips toward him but he doesn’t react, eyes wide and unbelieving as they continue to scan for signs of what the hell is going on. “Eddie, what do we do?”

The door behind you rockets open, the handle embedding itself in the drywall with a crack. Max stands on the other side, one foot forward from where she’d kicked the door open, her chest heaving. “Munson,” she pants, crossing the room as she begins to pull her hair back into a high ponytail, “we have to get out of here.”

“What the fuck is going on down there, Red?” His voice is raised in distress, still not moving as Max passes him toward her room. It’s the most emotion you’ve heard out of him so far.

“No one knows,” she calls behind her as she lifts her hoodie over her head and throws it, going digging in dresser drawers for different clothes. “It’s fucking chaos out there. Everyone just started running when the alarm went off. I heard someone say they saw Infected.”

“Infected?” A chill of fear shoots down your spine, cold leaking out into your ribs as they begin to feel tight. “Inside the walls?”

“No, they were talking about across the river,” she snarks, slamming sounds increasing as she disappears further into the room. “Yes, inside the walls.”

“Did they say how many?” Eddie finally starts to move, jogging into his room with you directly behind as you both go diving for your own packs.

“It doesn’t matter,” you can feel Eddie’s glare on the top of your head as you keep your focus on shoving your things back into your bag as you talk. “It’ll just keep increasing exponentially, even one is too many.”

“Since when are you a fuckin’ expert--”

Eddie’s sneer is cut off by Max walking in. “Bambi’s right, Munson.” Your annoyed look shifts from Eddie to her at the nickname, but one blink in your direction has you turning back to your things. “Even if only one Infected bit one person and no one knew, it’s already too late in a city this size with this much panic.” She lays a machete down on the bed in front of you. “You know how to use one of these?”

Her blue eyes are bright even in the low light, a certain fire to them that can’t be extinguished even by the darkest nights. She’s decked out in battle gear, protective clothes built for moving and hiding, her knives in place, her ginger hair slicked back to her head. She doesn’t look scared or nervous – if anything she looks more at ease now than she did by the bonfire. More determined. Like this is what she was made for. You look between her and the machete once before giving a stiff nod and clipping the sheath to your pants. Eddie swings his pack onto his shoulders, going for the twin pistols on the bookshelf. “Saw an explosion northside along the wall, do you know what that noise was southside?”

She shakes her head, disappearing behind you again. “I told you, it’s a mess on the ground, no way to tell anything. We gotta get out of the city.”

Eddie swears under his breath, leaning both of his palms on the edge of the bookshelf as he hangs his head and takes a deep breath. “St. Peter’s was clear when we went through yesterday,” he calls out without lifting his head, eyes pinched shut as he continues to take measured breaths.

“We’ll try there first. Seems like most of the commotion was towards the west so hopefully we’ll have a clear shot.”

The wood groans under Eddie’s hands as he digs in, pushing off of it forcefully enough to send it rocking back against the wall. He turns on you, face stern and with a frightening calm to how he’s holding himself. “Grab whatever you can, don’t plan on coming back.”

He pushes past you back out into the rest of the apartment where you can hear Max rooting around in the kitchen. You shove the last of your stuff back in your pack, zipping it quickly before releasing the mag to check ammo on your pistol. It gets tucked into your holster and your pack gets thrown onto your back. One last quick scan of the room – the one that was Eddie’s home, that smells like him, that has his books, that he lives with Max in. Something catches your eye, sitting in its spot on top of the bookshelf just as it had when you first walked in. You grab for it and shove it deep into your pack before you turn back toward the other two.

A plastic bag gets thrown your direction without warning, slapping against your chest and falling into your arms. “Put that in your bag,” Eddie commands, shoving a similar looking bag into his own. You want to bite back at his order, at his authority, but a twin set of explosions sounds outside, smaller but also closer than the ones before, interrupting you enough to just do as he says. ��Were the stairs clear when you came up, Red?”

She nods, shoving a canteen into her bag and then pressing off toward her abandoned rifle where it still rests by the couch. “Might not be now though, if people were running in like us to try to grab what they can.”

“Okay, I go first, Red covers us in the back.” He looks you over for a minute before adding, “Bambi,” a pause, as if feeling out how the newly assigned nickname fits in his mouth, before continuing, “stay close to us, but if anyone gets separated, head for St. Peter’s. You remember where that is?”

“One block north, 3 west, big cathedral,” you answer, which seems to impress him for a moment before he turns to dig something out from behind the couch. His arm reemerges with a baseball bat in hand – the black paint along the wood peeling in places and long nails hammered straight through the top. He tucks the handle under his arm as he double checks the magazine of ammo on both of his pistols. His bandana is tied around his head, keeping his bangs off his forehead and helping the rest of his hair stay back. Beneath the glazed over calm, you can see a subtle shake to his fingers as he clicks the mags back into place, a certain jerkiness to his movements as he prepares to leave.

Easy to imagine that it’s because he knows he might never come back.

“Everybody ready to roll out?” Max asks, as he loops the strap of her rifle over her shoulder.

“Ready,” you confirm, tightening the straps of your pack and undoing the latch of your new machete so it’s easier to slip out if needed.

Eddie nods and takes another deep breath, straightening his spine on the inhale. “Then let’s go.”

The three of you press out into the hallway, now pitch black without the stuttering lights above. Eddie navigates it easily, years of muscle memory taking him directly to where the sharp corner bends to the rest of the hall toward the stairs. You follow close behind, eyes struggle to adjust in the dark as you keep your fingertips outstretched so they brush along Eddie’s backpack to guide you. None of your footsteps make a sound on the stamped down carpet, hiding both yourselves and any possible assailants from being found so easily. Luckily, the three of you push into the stairwell without incident.

Emergency lights cast an eerie green across the concrete walls as you begin to descend, not hearing any foot steps other than the 3 of you. They echo out across the walls, ricocheting higher and higher above your heads. None of you speak, trying to listen for anything that might be out of place. The closer you get to the ground, the louder the cacophony outside grows. Gunfire, yelling, the odd explosion ringing out more and more distinctly as Eddie checks back behind the stairwell, just as you had yesterday, before pushing out and into the lobby.

There’s furniture overturned, a fresh trail of bright red blood leading off and toward the elevator, but the space is otherwise empty. As the three of you approach the glass doors, you see silhouettes of people running past, all headed west. When Eddie breaks the seal of the enclosed room, that’s when you start to hear the screaming.

It’s everywhere – gunfire and people crying out coming from every direction as your eyes adjust to the night air. A few more people run past, paying no attention to you as they head toward the river. “Okay, eyes up,” Eddie adjusts his hands on the grip of his bat and sets into a jog toward the east. 

Staying in a line, him in front and Max behind, you keep a hand on the handle of your machete as you press on toward the cathedral. You jog past a couple, a woman supporting her husband as he limps along with a hand pressed to a steadily bleeding wound in his side. Taking out your flashlight with your free hand, you click it on as you travel away from the burning fires and deeper into the shadows. The light coasts over empty sidewalks, reflects back off of store windows, and catches on disturbed dust from the road beneath your feet. Eddie holds out a hand for you both to stop and points out ahead and to the right, your flashlight immediately angling that way.

Two bodies lay in the street unmoving. As you approach, you see they are definitely not breathing, torsos littered with bullet holes, as if gunned down by an assault weapon at a distance. After confirming those people definitely aren’t getting back up, you all press on, a bit slower than before as you watch out for signs of further struggle.

Your flashlight catches on the dry, dead grass of the small park across the street from the cathedral. Scanning slowly across it with the bright light, your breath catches in your throat when you see a hunched over form toward the center. The person is on their knees, bent over with their head angled down. Another few steps and you can see they’re bent over a person in FEDRA armor, the body on the floor twitching as the kneeling figure presses their face into the other’s neck. A shift in your position has the light reflecting off a piece of metal on the body.

The Runner immediately throws it’s head up, it’s shoulders twitching once before it whips toward the three of you. Trails of blood pour down from it’s mouth as the lips part, letting out an inhuman roar as soon as it makes eye contact. It leaves behind it’s meal to stumble to it’s feet and make a break in your direction. Eddie takes a few quick steps toward it, bat clutched in both hands, and he reels back. The Infected lunges. The nailed end of the bat makes contact with it’s skull, the right side of it’s head caving in with a sickening crunch as the force of his swing sends it off to the left before it hits the dirt.

“Come on,” he walks toward the doors of the church as Max jogs up from behind you and toward the FEDRA officer on the ground. One of her knives strikes through his eye and into the skull, effectively ending any chance the fungus had of reanimating him. Eddie climbs the small set of steps to the cathedral two at a time and presses in against the door. It doesn’t budge. He tries again, and again, before turning toward you. “Hold this for a sec.”

You take your hand off of the handle of your machete to take the bat from him, trying not to look at the fresh blood shining on the nails as he turns back for the doors and tries again.

“What’s up?” Max asks as she comes up behind you, pausing on the steps.

“Doors jammed,” Eddie explains through a groan, pressing his entire body against the doors. He steps back, backing you up along with him, as he lifts his foot and brings it down next to the broad handles. After 3 more firemen’s kicks, the door still doesn’t move an inch. “It’s barred from the other side,” he explains, breathing heavily with exertion. “Who the fuck would’ve even…?”

“Is there another way in?” You ask, holding his bat back toward him, fingers brushing as he takes it in his right hand.

“There’s another door in the back, but the path to get there is blocked,” Eddie turns back toward you both, like he’s about to discuss next steps, when you hear a pained scream to your right.

A group of Infected have taken down two people a block east, their backs all curved down as they crowd around the struggling humans. “No time, we gotta go,” Max ushers you along, directing you back toward the west as Eddie catches up to her. “We go for transit by the convention center, if that’s shot we go southwest exit.”

“You got a death wish, Red? Southwest is barely holding as is,” Eddie asks, jogging forward to walk in line with you as you scan the streets ahead with your flashlight.

“Barely holding means no Infected,” she replies, her voice fading out as she turns around to see if the group behind are following. “Plus you’re already heading west, we’ll be able to take a straight shot down to Harahan and get across the river.”

Eddie lets out a heavy sigh beside you, his head tilting left and right along his shoulders in a stretch. “Fine, but we’re still going for convention center first.”

The three of you set into a brisk walk back the way you came, seeing even less panic than you had before. You catch the backs of people ducking into store fronts and crossing the streets ahead, but it’s mostly just shadows moving in the dark. As long as no one turns on you, you pay them no mind as your group moves forward in a steady sweep of the path ahead.

The screaming gets louder the further west you get. Though still hard to tell with the way sounds bounce off the tall buildings downtown, it seems as though most of the commotion is coming from the direction of the bonfire. Another chill of cold fear slides down your spine thinking of the huge gathering of people, half well on their way to intoxication, in the midst of whatever this is. You find yourself wondering where Maggie and Libby are, where Sadie is. If they’re safe or not.

“Let’s cut north after City Hall,” Eddie says, voice loud enough for you and Max to hear him but low enough to hopefully not attract any unwanted attention. You’re about to get back to the intersection of The Claridge House when an explosion echoes out from the right and a crowd of people runs through the intersection, heading south toward the bonfire. They are pushing each other out of the way, feet locking together and sending others down into the dust. The people tripped barely have time to hit the ground before they’re scrambling up again to keep running. Running like their lives depend on it.

Eddie is scanning through the running crowd as you clear the corner, looking out across the tracks to see what they’re running from.

There are more hunched over figures, feasting on prone bodies, stragglers from the escaping group being tackled to the ground right in front of you. There are at least 15 Infected littered across the tracks, each with their own soon to be companion bleeding out on the bricks. Their bodies jerk unnaturally as they press down, light from a nearby trash can fire flickering across their arched backs. “Holy shit,” you murmur, backing up a few steps and running directly into Max.

Her hands grip your biceps and push you lightly toward where Eddie is already pressing forward again. You jog to catch up, listening as Max follows close behind. You’re barely halfway down the next block when a FEDRA vehicle comes careening from the north. It veers directly into your path, speed only increasing as it barrels down the street toward you. It jerks left and right, screeching tires rolling across tarmac as you try to guess which way to run to get out of it’s way.

Whoever is behind the wheel must have lost whatever battle they were fighting, because the vehicle suddenly takes a hard right and goes smashing into the parking garage beside it. The crash is deafening – metal scraping metal and dragging on concrete as the hood smashes into an accordion fold against the concrete structure. It was going so fast the back kicks up off the ground before slamming back down with a bounce of the tires. Eddie holds out his arm to stop you as your ears ring from the force of the crash.

The front cab catches fire, the flames quickly doubling in size as Eddie backs up. “We gotta go, we gotta go! This way,” he directs you and Max down the alleyway beside you, drawing your own group closer to the bonfire spot.

“We’re getting herded like animals out here,” Max yells as you run beside her, your pack slapping against your back as you move. “We have to get out of the choke, everyone is getting pressed to the center of the zone.”

You’re about to reply when the vehicle behind explodes, the force and heat of the blast sending you to your knees. Your hands make contact with the ground, your flashlight flying out of reach as you try to keep yourself from falling on your face. Dust kicks up into your eyes, nose, down your throat as you gasp from the shock. It sends you into coughs, your eyes watering forcefully enough to blind you. The world spins beneath your hands as you try to recover your bearings after being sent to the ground. Your ears are ringing even more, not having recovered from the first impact, and your eyes are too blurred to see anything in the dark. Your throat screams in protest as you try to haul in breaths between your hacking coughs, only succeeding in inhaling more dust.

An arm loops around your waist, hauling you to your feet and using that grasp to get you moving again as you continue to cough and try to blink the dust out of your eyes. “Everyone okay?” Max calls out from the dust cloud, her voice rough as if she too was caught up in coughs.

“Good,” you manage to reply in a rasp before another coughing fit hits you, keeping your feet moving in the direction the arm around your waist directs you. The dust cloud clears out when you’ve crossed the threshold, giving you clear air to breathe as you spit out dirt onto the pavement and wipe at your eyes with the backs of your hands.

“Come on, we gotta keep moving,” Eddie’s voice comes from right beside you, the arm releasing as he lets out a few coughs of his own and waves you to follow. You ignore the sudden chill that sinks through you as his warmth pulls away.

The three of you keep trying to head southeast, getting blocked off in various ways, sending you towards where the light of the bonfire continues to grow in the distance. People are running this way and that across the streets like no one knows which direction to go in order to escape the panic. The flicker of the fire stretches out across the path before you, shadows stretching and growing in the distance like spectres with wills of their own. The closer you get to the celebration, the more bodies line the streets. Some bloody as if torn into by claws, others with their throats slit, some with their skin burned.

Around the corner, the market is on fire. The tarps above each stall waving in the wind as they burn, the entire open air gathering point caught up in flames. Eddie’s steps hesitate for a moment as a figure runs out from between the market stalls, their clothes and hair burning as they scream bloody murder. Another figure emerges, also engulfed in flames, and tackles them to the ground, both bodies rolling away from you as they struggle.

Turning away from the sight as your stomach twists, you mistakenly angle yourself toward the original bonfire location. There are even more bodies here, some shot, some looking like they were torn apart. Piled on top of each other in places. Bile rises in your throat, the sharp smell of blood suddenly invading your nose as you scan of the carnage that once was the celebration. It covers the ground, crimson seeping into the soil from all that was shed across it. 

You see the woman who played the fiddle on the ground, a bite mark on her arm and a bullet wound through the back of her skull. The man who handed you your cup of piss whiskey is laying on his side, blood trickling out of his mouth and a cut across his throat. There’s a person half sticking out of the flames: long blonde hair, a yellow floral dress, and alabaster skin slowly being consumed by fire. You almost fall backwards onto your ass as you stumble away from the sight.

“Come on, you gotta keep going,” Max catches you, gripping your biceps for support again as she helps you past the rapidly spreading bonfire and beyond the stench of blood and the bodies, known and unknown.

Eddie jogs through 2 alleyways and around a corner, looking back every few seconds to make sure you’re both still behind him. He emerges into an intersection, looks left and then–

A figure tackles him, sending him to the ground ass first as they descend. “Fuck!”

Max takes three steps forward and kicks the Runner off of him like it weighs nothing. Eddie scrambles backwards as she pins the person to the ground with her boot and shoots it twice in the forehead. It falls limp when she kicks it again for good measure before wiping her boot off on the pavement like she’d squashed a bug. Your eyes find Eddie, wide and searching for wounds.

“I’m good,” he says when he catches your eyes on him, “Just busted my ass, I’m fine.”

“Maybe clear your corners before walking past them next time, Munson.” Max’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, barely showing any concern for him as she holsters her pistol again and looks out over the new space.

You step over and offer your hand to Eddie, still on the ground. He’s glaring at Max’s back but the look softens when he sees you reaching for him. He braces his hand on your elbow and you do the same before leaning back, helping him pull himself to his feet. There’s a bit of blood on his palms from how quickly he pulled himself away and it stains your skin before he wipes it off on his pants.

Another FEDRA vehicle goes careening past the intersection you’re looking at, this one in control as it heads to an unknown destination to the south. “All the trucks are headed south, might be a way out,” you note, looking between Max and Eddie.

Neither move nor speak for a few moments and it hits you with a startling realization – they probably knew a majority of those bodies littered across the park. They’ve lived here for years, are known members of the community. Max was helping you past the corpses of people she knew while you tried not to lose it just from seeing bodies you barely recognized.

This is their home. And it’s burning to the ground around them.

“We stick close to the buildings down Riverside. Head for the southeast exit point.” Eddie is solemn, eyes downcast as he starts walking again. “Hopefully we won’t run into whatever FEDRA is going for.”

As if that wasn’t a jinx in and of itself.

A few more blocks south, you catch sight of a huge blockade. FEDRA trucks in a V formation blocking a road. A few yards back from the open point of the V, FEDRA officers kneel and stand with assault rifles going off almost non-stop, empty shells littering the ground around their feet. Bodies cover the intersection between the V and the officers, to the point of piling on top of each other. Infected run for the gunfire and get funneled into the FEDRA trap, falling as more bodies hit the piles. Some climb over the vehicles and try to lunge for them but there are enough officers that they quickly meet the same fate.

The three of you press tight to the building beside you, hidden in shadows as Max steps up a bit closer to speak lowly. “We’ve gotta get past them but if they see anything move they won’t hesitate, doesn’t matter if you’re bit right now or not.”

Eddie looks on, his teeth pressed tight together. “They’ll have the area behind them blocked off, or even if they don’t, they’ll take it as a threat and attack on sight.” The two make eye contact in front of you, Max’s eyebrows raising as she tilts her head. Eddie exhales harshly through his nose before giving her a stiff nod. “Come on, with me,” she murmurs to you, signaling you to follow her back the way you came. You glance back to make sure Eddie is also following, catching him throwing two middle fingers at the FEDRA blockade before trailing after you.

Max leads you west, away from your supposed destination and also toward the direction all those infected were pouring out from. While you want to question, you decide against it as she sneaks around corners and towards the southwest like she has a plan. The screaming steadily rises in volume, gunfire and the sounds of fighting growing beside you. The three of you emerge into a huge intersection filled with people.

Infected press in, clashing with civilians across the open area. Knives and bats and hatchets and axes slice through the air as the people of Memphis fight back against the Infected that try to bring them down. Cutting down former neighbors, slaughtering what used to be friends, sending loved ones to the ground and executing them. You spot Gus out in the chaos, a bloody butcher’s knife in hand as he hacks at the neck of an Infected, sending it to the ground and it’s head rolling off to the side. Max passes you, pulling a hatchet out of the bag behind her and entering the fray. “Max, what are you –”

You drag Eddie out of the way as an Infected flies past, moving too quickly to course correct when you shift it’s intended target, and tumbles over a corpse beyond. “Shit,” you gasp, as another Runner darts toward you both. Eddie’s bat rears back, once again cracking across the skull with a whack. “Where are we going?!”

“Through!” Is Eddie’s only reply, arm coming behind you and dragging you with him toward the fighting.

You duck to dodge an elbow, side step around a struggle, get to a spot where it’s clear enough that you can take off into a run. Max is a few feet ahead of you, hacking and slashing into anyone who comes at her like a fucking angel of death. A whirlwind of fire cutting people down and leaving butchered corpses in her wake. An Infected approaches from behind her, well beyond her field of vision, and you act on instinct.

Your machete is in your hand and you use your running momentum to strike it down into it’s neck, blade sinking into skin and muscle before connecting with bone as it falls forward. You release the handle, letting your machete go down with it as you pull out another blade. Denim covered knees hit the ground, blade sinking into the space below it’s skull with a professional hand, rendering it immobile and hopefully dead.

Knife returning to your pocket as you stand, you brace your foot on their back as you grip your machete again and try to pull it out. Try being the key word. It’s lodged tight, even as you press down with your boot and attempt to yank it free with both hands. In your moment of distraction, there’s a flash of movement to your left and then you’re hitting the ground.

Arm braced to keep the snapping, snarling jaws away from you, you struggle with your other hand between assisting your braced arm in keeping the monster away from you (a losing battle) or trying to reach for a weapon (a losing battle). The weight of the Infected presses down along your whole body, blood running cold as you try one last time to push it off of you.

The weight flies off along with the sound of bone crushing under weight. You gasp out air, trying to scramble to your feet when a hand appears in front of you.

Eddie’s chest is heaving, a smear of blood across his cheek, red soaked bat in one hand and the other stretched toward you. “We’re even,” he says as he pulls you to your feet, a small smile on his face. You go to try to dislodge the machete again but Eddie waves it off. “It’s a piece of shit, come on.”

You both set into a jog toward the swing of Max’s long, red ponytail. She’s shooting into the face of a clicker, 4 rounds directly to the nose before it falls at her feet. Another sacrifice as she burns forward, cutting through the crowd like a force of nature as she fights toward Gus. Her boots are slick with spilled blood, pants stained red, with one of her sleeves torn at the elbow. But when you manage to catch a glimpse of her profile – she’s smiling. She’s grinning like a kid at Christmas as her torment continues.

You’re close enough now to see the sweat and blood that covers Gus as he fights back to back with four others. Max is pushing toward them, almost close enough to call out, when the wall beside them explodes outward. Two of them are immediately crushed by debris, bodies flattening in horrifying squelches beneath the stone, Gus and the other two barely managing to avoid the same fate.

An Infected emerges from the dust, larger than any you have seen before. Fungus covers large portions of it’s body, somewhere near 8 feet tall, and fucking huge. You stand frozen in place as it takes two hulking steps toward the small group, who doesn’t have enough time to scatter, and grabs Gus like he weighs nothing. It lets out a roar that vibrates the bones beneath your skin directly into his face as he struggles, eyes the size of saucers in fear. In mere moments that feel like an hour, the monstrous creature grips his skull and rips his head clean off his body before throwing both pieces away like they’re made of tissue paper.

A scream tears from your throat as Eddie’s hands grip you, dragging you away from the creature as it lunges for it’s next victim. “Run, fucking go!” He’s yelling, sounding more scared than you thought was possible for him, as he directs you back toward the blockade.

“What about Max?!”

“Just GO!”

Adrenaline pumps hard through your blood, muscles pulling tighter, vision tunneling, and nerves numbing as you press into a full sprint away from the screaming that continues behind you. You don’t look back to see if Eddie or Max is with you. You don’t worry about FEDRA shooting you ahead. You don’t wonder if another Infected will intercept you as you go. You do what Eddie asked of you wholeheartedly and without question.

You fucking run.

Bullets fly past you in the opposite direction as you press in tighter to the buildings on your left. FEDRA filters in through the chokehold they made, assault rifles at the ready as they direct their fire toward the horrifying creature behind you. Molten metal whizzes past you, too close for comfort, and your shoulder rocks back to dodge it. Your sprint barely falters as a pressure against your back sends you into an alley. Wait, you can't dodge… A bullet?

Fire erupts across your bicep, searing into your blood and bones as you make contact with the brick wall. Another scream escapes you as hands grab for your shoulders, your own scrambling for purchase on the wall as your left arm feels as though it's being torn off. Your right fist flies, unseeing as you turn on your attacker. Run, fight, lunge, survive.

A hand grips your wrist before it can make contact and pins it back against the wall. Good arm pinned by the wrist, bad arm hanging uselessly at your side, a body presses you into the brick wall. The pressure and the brick digging into your back grounds you for the moment as you blink back into yourself.

Eddie comes into focus, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, his eyes rapidly flicking between your wrist, your hand, and your limp arm. “Hey, hey, it’s me,” he tries to soothe, posture relaxing as your own tense muscles loosen slightly once you actually make eye contact. “Just me.” He pulls back slightly and your knees buckle under you – you barely fall a few inches before he rushes forward again to support you. “Hey, you good?”

Your vision swims, senses assaulting you from all angles as it feels like the cavity of your skull fills with water. “Dizzy,” you murmur, good hand coming down on his shoulder and gripping tight as the world shifts around you.

“Fucking hell, Bambi,” Max’s voice appears from nowhere, your head attempting to shift toward the noise. “Taking a bullet while running from a horde is pretty metal but we’ve gotta move.”

“Just…” Your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, dry and heavy as you try to reply. “Just need a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute. Sorry, Bambi.” Eddie yanks your good arm around his shoulders and braces his own across your back. The pain of the movement sends you reeling, a shattered cry breaking out of you as he drags you forward. Max, faster and unburdened, presses ahead to make sure the way is clear as Eddie borderline carries you down darkened paths you aren’t coherent enough to identify.

Your eyes blur and your surroundings blend together as you focus in on yourself, coming to the realization you can still adjust and feel your arm, but moving it feels like a fate worse than death. There’s blood dripping down your hand and onto the floor behind you as you hang off of Eddie and follow Max deeper into the shadows.

Thursday, August 18th, 2016 – West Memphis, Arkansas

Reds, yellows, and whites swirl around behind your eyelids as you come back to yourself. It’s a step by step process of returning to consciousness.

First, you recognize the bright light beyond your closed eyes is probably the sun. You can feel it beating down on your denim covered shins – which feel as though they’ve been cooking in an oven. The sun must be pretty high in the sky and your calves must have been in the sun for the entirety of the morning based on the uncomfortable heat crawling beneath the fabric. The rest of your body is less heated and potentially under shade, which you’re grateful for.

Second, you come to the realization you’re laying on your back. There’s something beneath you that isn’t ground and isn’t your backpack. It has a bit of give but isn’t necessarily comfortable. Your legs are dangling off the end of whatever it is, the heels of your boots resting on the ground. Your right arm is laying out beside you and your left arm is bound to your chest. You can shift your fingers on both hands, wiggle your toes in your boots. All limbs mobile and accounted for.

Third, your head and your upper left arm are killing you. The sun is too bright even behind your closed eyes. It feels like someone is driving an ice pick right through your temples and pounding into your skull. It echoes around the cavity housing your brain and bleeds down into a sharp tension in your neck. Meanwhile, your arm feels like it weighs 100 pounds against your ribs. It’s wrapped so tight you can feel your heartbeat beneath the bandages along with the sore muscles and throbbing wound. The wrapping comes up over your sternum and over your other shoulder, a makeshift sling keeping your arm in place.

When you finally decide to blink your eyes open, all you see is bright blue sky. There are no clouds to be seen and the sun must be coming in from a different angle because your eyes adjust to the light with a certain ease you hadn’t expected given the pounding in your head. Glancing a bit higher up, you catch sight of a white umbrella above, the saving grace keeping you from roasting alive beneath the sun’s rays. Between the shade of the umbrella and the breeze across you, it actually feels comfortable. Almost calming.

In an attempt to sit up, you draw your good elbow under to prop up your upper body. A groan of effort tumbles out against your will and you hear a snort of amusement off to your left. “Take it easy, Bambi,” Max’s voice sounds tired, lacking emotion. “Lost a lot of blood. Gonna be shaky for a while.”

You ignore her and continue to slowly push yourself up, your entire body protesting, before you are able to take in your surroundings.

The rooftop patio is bathed in late morning sunlight; the faded, white plastic furniture looking at odds with the three of you laid out across them. Max is sitting on top of a table to your left with one of her boots propped up on a chair. Her ponytail is a mess but still standing, the torn sleeve completely ripped off to show her forearm, the blood staining her clothing dried under the heat of the day. She’s leaning back on her palms as she looks out into the distance. Eddie is off to your right, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped between his thighs. The smear of blood across his cheek has been cleaned off but he still looks like a total mess. The bandana has been removed and it looks like he re-tied his hair back into a bun on the back of his head. His pack is still on his back and the now-crusty baseball bat lays on the patio lounger beside him. His head is up, looking out in the same direction as Max. Casting your attention outward, you find out what they’re staring at.

The sun has risen on a Memphis in flames. Large plumes of dark smoke filter up into the blue sky above from multiple different spots in the city. One of the fires is so large you can see the orange filtering up into the funnel even over the tall concrete walls. If you listen close enough, you swear you can still hear gunshots going off and echoing across the valley between you. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. A part of you hoping there are still some people in Memphis left fighting for their home. That not all was lost.

Max and Eddie do not seem like they have that same hope. They are both still as stone and silent as they look out over the home they left behind. It’s a solemn and heavy silence weighed down by grief. Mourning in silence. But they do not cry. They’ve lost too much to shed tears over something like this. You can imagine it feels almost like an inevitability.

It was always going to end up like this eventually – it was only a matter of when.

You tear your eyes away from the burning graveyard beyond and focus back in on yourself. Your upper arm is wrapped tight in white gauze, the sleeves of both of your shirts torn off at the shoulder above it. The fabric of your sleeves has been tied to something else and fashioned into a sling that has your forearm pressed tight to the area just below your chest. Shifting your shoulder in an attempt to test the movement of your arm has tears immediately jumping to your eyes, channeling your desire to yelp into a hiss between your teeth. You still have feeling, you still can move it, but it'll be a little while until you’re able to do so without pain. Probably a lucky break all things considered.

“Was…” Your voice is roasted when it croaks out of you, attempting to clear your throat barely helps. “Was I the only one hurt? Are you both okay?”

“Munson’s got a bruised tailbone and I managed to break my pinky again, but we’re fine.”

A sigh of relief leaves you at the news. Ease confirmed, and now extremely aware of just how dehydrated you are, you start looking around for your bag.

A water bottle rolls across the ground and knocks against your boot, coming to a stop within arms reach. When you look up, Eddie is back to looking out over Memphis, as if he hadn’t moved at all. You grip the bottle in your bound hand and use your good arm to twist off the top, downing half the bottle all at once.

Silence rings out for a while longer. You’re not sure how long you all sit on this rooftop and watch the city turn to ruins before your eyes. The sun might crawl along the sky but you’re not aware of it. All you can do is breathe in clean air that lets you know you’re alive and watch as the happy community of Memphis, Tennessee turns to ash, rock, and bone. Knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it or fix it.

“Now what?”

Eddie’s head falls, hanging down between his shoulders as he looks down at the ground. “We keep going. Head to Three Corners.”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Your home just burned to the ground, there has to be something more important for you to do than keep escorting me.”

“I signed up for this gig – made a promise to a friend – so I’m going to get you where you need to go,” his tone is clipped, his hands clenching so tightly together his knuckles turn white. “Besides, there’s nothing we can do to help them now.”

The defeat in his words sobers you. You want to argue there are plenty of things that could be done to try to help anyone who might still be alive down there, your heart still bleeding hot for those left behind, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear it. You glance over to Max, to see if she has any reaction to his words, but she looks on as if she isn’t even listening to you.

“It might be slow moving while you recover,” he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, “but with the three of us, we should still be able to make it by end of day Sunday. Especially if we’re able to find a car worth half a shit.”

“I’m not coming with you.”

Eddie straightens at Max’s confession, confusion coloring his expression as he glares at her. “What do you mean you’re not coming with us?”

“I mean, I’m not going with you,” she spits back, rolling her head over her shoulder to look over at him.

“What are you planning to do instead?” He asks, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounds hurt.

She sits up then, pressing a palm into her knee. “Got some business to finish down there,” she angles her head toward the flaming city. “After that…” She pauses, a harsh swallow pushing down her throat. “I think it’s about time I paid Dustin and Will a visit.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Her head whips toward him at his dismissive tone, eyes narrowing into a glare. “Contrary to your own belief, I don’t need you looking after me.”

Eddie pushes himself to his feet, facing her head on. “I promised him I would.”

The declaration seems to hit Max like a slap across the face. She reels back instinctively, muscles tensing like she’s gearing up for a fight. The tension quickly rises to a boiling beneath the heat of the sun and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to stop them if it comes to blows.

Then Max exhales hot air, the tension pouring out of her along with it. The fight that seems so eager to come to the surface ducks back below the water to wait for its next chance to break free. “I know, Eddie.” Her hands come up to rub roughly at her face for a few moments. “But Bambi needs to get to Jeff. She needs you more than I do.” He steps one foot closer like he wants to argue but she holds up a hand to stop him. “I’ll be careful,” her voice lowers, softening into a sincere promise. “I’ll make it out to the other side and I’ll –” Her voice catches, emotions betraying her as she tries to shake it off. “I’ll go clean out the garage.” Eddie softens at that, his eyes pinching up in sadness. “I’ll pack up the truck and go to the ranch. See the boys. Maybe take it easy for a while.” The idea of it makes her laugh softly, some of the sorrow fading as her eyes unfocus, like she’s going off into a daydream of what that might look like.

“You’ll radio when you’re there?” He asks softly, as if he’s afraid to ask for anything at all.

“‘Course I will,” her tone still bleeds sincerity, more feeling showing from her now that you thought she was capable of based on your previous interactions with her. A gentle smile tilts her lips as she keeps eye contact with him, warmth seeping out of her. “I probably won’t get there before you get to Jeff’s but if you hang around for a few days, we can check in?”

Eddie nods, tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes as he turns away from you both. Looking back out over the wreckage and crossing his arms over his chest. Max hops off her table, stretching her arms skyward with a moan of release. “You’ll keep him on track, won’t you Bambi?” She flashes you a smile, the corner of her mouth sharp as she gives you a wink. The confident and deadly human weapon falling back into place. Walls sliding up and clicking into place.

You nod, trying to bury your own tumultuous emotions at the idea of continuing on without her. “I will.”

“Good,” she answers simply, hooking her own bag back over her shoulder. “Well, then. This is a see you later.”

Eddie tilts his head back, studying Max like this is the last time he’ll ever see her. “See you soon, Red.”

“Later, Munson.” She gives you a 2 fingered wave as she passes you. “Nice meeting you, Bambi. Good luck.”

You turn to watch as she crosses the roof and yanks open the door, disappearing into the dark without looking back once.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, Eddie lets out a sigh, his shoulders collapsing forward slightly. He turns on his heel toward you, immediately moving to pick up your backpack and move it within your reach. “Come on, Bambi. We’re burning daylight.”

He looks tired again. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix. The kind of exhausted that comes from deep within you.

You wonder if he’ll ever find the peace of life Memphis gave him again.

-

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-

-

thanks for reading and for giving so much love on previous parts!! if you liked this part, please give it a reblog and leave a comment if you can :)

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #Old Heart #myos ideas #older!eddie munson #the last of us au #stranger things x reader

[nocturnalazure]

For those interested, I have made a music video with all the Xmas Special shots!

As (ominously) explained by Grimmy, this was completely non-canon, so not really an update per se. There are too many impossibilities. Sam and Laurie have a 15-year age gap, but they look almost the same age in this shooting. Theo would have been way too old to still be alive (although I did make him look older than he was in the story when he died, thank you @danjaley for the grandfather poses!). Elsie would never have been adopted by Ivy and given to Laurie. Even Sam and Nathaniel's conflict was cleared too easily.

I have already shown two Christmases at the Golzine's, and those were part of the story itself. The first one was in 2014, when Nathaniel and Ivy had just gotten together. The second Christmas was in 2018, and that was when Sam and Nathaniel's relationship had deteriorated. But this time, for once, I wanted to see all the family members together, as they could have been if they had all been alive and closer in age. In this one, Ange is over the moon: she has felt isolated for so long, she would have loved taking care of a big family. Theo is grumpy, first because he's getting old, but also because he still sees Ash as Nathaniel's mistake and therefore doesn't consider him part of the family. He can't help but snap at his son, and Nathaniel can't help but be resentful. Nate pulls a face when he gets out of the car because he dreads spending a whole evening getting criticized by his father. Which starts the moment Nate sets foot in the house: he's not wearing a tie and that is unacceptable! On the other hand, Theo's soft spot for Sam is clearly visible when she gives him a peck on the cheek and he's the one who claps the loudest when Ange presents her cake! :D (the cake itself is the baked angel food cake, because of course that is what Ange would bake)

As for Sam and Laurie, I've always described their relationship as 'healthy competition'', but I have a feeling that Sam would get on Laurie's nerves sometimes: she's quite a handful, let's be honest. :D That, and she is still the favorite child. But they love teasing each other, and when they're not playfully fighting over who the actual heir is, they sure know how to work together. Ivy plays it cool but she is so proud of her kids (I love that pic of her with Laurie and Sam!). And she's generous in accepting Ash unconditionally.

Laurie and Ash would have gotten along like two peas in a pod. That's why I showed the two of them having a walk in the snow, engrossed in their conversation. And I think Nathaniel would have been really happy for an opportunity to get to know Ash.

Erik (who does not wear the ankh necklace, which means that his father is also alive and well :)) would have felt very awkward, being formally introduced as Laurie's boyfriend. He's very much aware that he's lower on the social scale and he would have been dead scared of Theo! xD Laurie would have briefed Erik in detail about what he should do and not do in front of his grandfather, like which fork to use and above all: "wear a tie!" Even so, Erik couldn't resist rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie before sneaking away for a smoke. xD

Did you notice the little nods to the actual story? Erik lighting Nathaniel's cigarette like Seth has done a thousand times, Nathaniel and Ivy taking a bath together (which is how they got busted by Sen aeons ago xD), Theo kicking Laurie's ass at chess, Ash finding comfort in petting a dog, Sam and Ash platonically sharing a single bed like they did at the dorm, and of course Laurie and Erik being together in this AU, even if nothing dramatic binds them this time.

I also wanted a moment in which Laurie is the center of everyone's attention and his whole family gathers around him. The poor boy needs it so much. The spontaneous expression on his face in that unused screenshot below breaks my heart. It's like he knows this is all a dream. 💔

I had written a long, depressing post about how 2023 was one of my worst years yet on a personal level, but I will keep that one to myself, it’s out of my heart now that it’s written down. Instead of dwelling on the bad stuff, I had a lot of fun shooting this non-canon update. I’m grateful to have my little space on here, and the incredible luck to have you guys to share my story with and inspire me with your talent. I’d rather focus on that for the year to come!

Wishing you a wonderful New Year's Eve! Thank you for your support throughout 2023. ❤️

#ts3 #sims 3 #sims 3 story #sims 3 video #video #character video #character development #Youtube

[rfxiii]

(First off, a very happy birthday tomorrow to @theawfulwriter !! I’m still a little messed up and ouchy from surgery Tuesday and I really, really hope this makes sense! But more than anything, happy birthday! And if this doesn’t make sense, or isn’t what you wanted, lemme know and I’ll re-write it! 🎉🎂)

Best Birthday Wishes

TW: none

You’re curled up on your couch, sweatpants and baggy hoodie on while you sit with your knees to your chest. You’re barely paying attention to the tv show you’re so absently staring at. And while you’re lost in your own head, you fail to hear your front door jiggle open, or to notice the sound of heavy boots thudding across your floor, until a body hefts itself gracelessly over the back of your couch.

“Why so glum, sugar?” Your recent boyfriend, Trevor, asks.

You snap your head up at the sound of his voice, your eyes narrowing at Trevor as he sits cross-legged on the couch beside you. He's dressed in a pair of worn jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a beat up old demin jacket, his foot propped up on the edge of your coffee table. His smile is almost mocking, and it takes everything in you not to snap at him. "I'm not in the mood, Trevor," you reply, looking away from him again. "Leave me alone."

But Trevor doesn't seem fazed by your less-than-friendly tone. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and studies your face intently. "Come on, darlin’," he says, his voice softening. "You can tell Uncle T what's wrong. You know you can." You feel your shoulders sag a little at the tenderness in his voice, but you're still not in the mood for this. "I just want to make it better."

You sigh, scrubbing at your face with your hands before looking back up at him. "It's-.. It’s my birthday today," you mumble. "I just... I don't want to celebrate."

Trevor's eyebrows knit together in concern. "Why not?" he asks gently. "What's wrong with celebrating you? You're amazing!" You roll your eyes, even though the words warm you up a little from the inside. "No, really," he insists. "You're perfect, smart, funny, and talented. If it was up to me, every motherfucker would be celebrating you today!”

You feel a little embarrassed by his compliments, but you can't help but smile a little. "Thanks, I guess," you mutter, looking away again. "But it's just... hard sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," Trevor says, nodding. "I get that. But you know what? Tonight, we're going to make this the best birthday ever. Even if it's just the two of us. We can order some takeout, put on a movie... Whatever you want to do."

You chew on your bottom lip, considering his offer. A small part of you wants to enjoy your birthday with Trevor, but another part of you just wants to wallow in self-pity for a while. "Okay," you finally say, sighing. "I'll try."

Trevor beams at you, obviously relieved. "Great! I'll go get the food and set everything up while you get changed, okay?" He stands up and moves around the couch to lean against the armrest, studying you carefully. "You like Chinese? Italian? Wha’da’ya want, angel?”

You shrug. "Eh, anything’s fine..." You feel a little guilty about how little enthusiasm you have for this whole thing, but you tell yourself you'll try to enjoy it for Trevor's sake. Maybe a night in with your favorite person can make things a little better.

Trevor nods, already heading for the door. "Great! I'll be back before ya know it," he says, shooting you a quick wink before disappearing into the hallway. You hear the front door close, and then silence fills the apartment as you're left alone with your thoughts again.

You decide on taking a quick shower to at least feel a little better, you stand up and head down the hall to your bathroom. The hot water feels good against your skin as you wash away the day's grime and exhaustion. Once you're done, you throw on a pair of comfortable sweats and a soft t-shirt, feeling a little more like yourself again.

When you emerge from the bathroom, you hear the unmistakable sound of a movie playing from the living room. Peeking around the corner, you spot Trevor, and see he’s set up a little impromptu movie theater on the living room floor, complete with big blankets and a bowl of popcorn. The TV is playing an old romantic comedy you used to love, and he's even lit a few cheap candles to set the mood. You have to admit, it's kind of cute.

Trevor glances up at you as you step into the living room and offers you the bowl of popcorn. "I hope you like the movie," he says, actually looking a little nervous. "I figured you could use a laugh." You smile at him, feeling a little guilty about the way you've been acting. "Thanks, Trev. It's sweet of you." You curl up on the huge pile of blankets beside him, taking a handful of popcorn and settling in to watch the movie.

As the movie progresses, you find yourself getting caught up in the story and laughing along with Trevor at all the right places. He slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and you feel a pang of affection for him. He really is perfectly sweet when he wants to be. You can't help but wonder if this is what it's like to have someone who really cares about you, who wants to make sure you're happy.

As the credits roll, Trevor turns to you with a mischievous grin. "So, what do you say, beautiful? Now what?" You smile back at him, feeling more than a little grateful for his efforts. "I don't know, Trev. I am a little tired."

He laughs, his eyes twinkling. "Come on, let's at least have a slice of cake first. You know, to make it a proper birthday celebration." His enthusiasm is contagious, and despite yourself, you find yourself smiling back at him.

He stands up and disappears into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a small but surprisingly pretty chocolate cake and two candles. "I figured we could share it," he says with a wink, "since I kinda forgot to get food."

You roll your eyes, but can't help but laugh. "You're such a dummy, T."

He grins, setting the cake down on the coffee table. "I know, but you love me anyway." He lights the candles and hands you a lighter, then leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Now, make a wish."

You close your eyes, thinking for a moment. It's silly, but you wish that things could stay this way forever. Just you and Trevor, safe and happy like this in your apartment, with nothing or nobody to bother you.

You share the cake and soft laughter, and then, once it's all gone, you find yourselves back on the couch, curled up together. The soft glow from the television casts a warm light over your faces, and you can't help but feel content.

"You know," Trevor says softly, "I'm sorry if today kinda sucked for ya, sugar.. I just want you to be happy, and sometimes I don't know how to make that happen."

You look up at him, surprised. "It's okay, Trev. I've been... kind of a mess lately, and this birthday business didn’t help. But…you really have made the day better." You reach out and take his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I appreciate what you did today- trying to make tonight special for me. It worked, ya know?”

He smiles down at you, his eyes shining in the dim light. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he says, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against your lips.

You smile back at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Maybe there's hope for better days after all.

#gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta x reader #x reader #/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Rituals/Tradition

With art for this from @the-red-butterfly 💖💖💖 (Please show her some love!!!)

In the tradition of Cursed Cards, have some more photograph shenanigans...

Characters: Maedhros x Fingon (yes, still half-cousins!)

Words: 2 240

Warnings: pure fluff, no warnings

“Finno, are you coming?”

Fingon was about to let his phone drop to the low coffee table in his parents’ living room when the soft chime of a text message caught his attention.

Have fun skiing with your family! <3

Rereading the message while sweating profusely in the heavily padded costume, Fingon gripped the device a little harder when a second chime announced an addition to Russo’s parting communication.

The yearly family trip to the mountains was a well-established and cherished tradition, but Fingon would have gladly skipped it if his beloved had been amenable to staying home with him instead.

Alas, his lover—just as fond and faithful where family traditions were concerned—spent the winter holidays first on a boating trip, even though none of his six brothers was a particularly good seafarer, and then holed up in a remote cabin in a picturesque forest.

“You are very welcome to come to the cabin later in the week, if Tyelko’s shanties are not to your liking,” Russo had joked, and—afraid of intruding—Fingon had smiled warmly and declined.

A part of him regretted not having jumped at the opportunity from that very moment on, and—breaking with tradition little by little—he had purposefully dawdled when leaving for his own family holiday so he could take his own car to the ski resort.

He wondered whether his siblings had missed him on their rowdy, noisy, exasperating drive; Fingon truly felt sorry for not spending more time with them and for letting his mind drift away whenever he actually was by their side.

“Are you coming or not? No phone!” Turgon repeated, his stern, noble brow creased with impatience and annoyance.

“I don’t know how Elenwë—or anyone else, for that matter—bears your endless nagging,” Fingon grumbled, sensing that his whole plans were about to be derailed as his thumb slid across the screen towards the little envelope, decorated by that alluring red dot. “I won’t be a minute.”

He should go, he knew it, but he could not bear to leave a message from his lover unopened. What if he needed help? What if it was an emergency?

Clicking on it, he sealed his fate. A quiet gasp escaped him, and his cheeks darkened with delight.

“You’re not coming, are you?” Turgon snapped bitingly. Following his oldest brother’s darting eyes—the door to the bedrooms, the sprawling front window, back to the door—he instinctively divined his erratic thoughts. “I’ll pack your gear; get the necessities and go. I’ll tell the others when we meet at the foot of the mountain.”

Shooting a quick glance full of gratitude at his stolid, taciturn younger brother, Fingon all but jumped out of his elaborate suit and stumbled towards the door in a flimsy sweatshirt and his rattiest, thinnest sweatpants.

“Keys,” Turgon groaned, snatched them from the tangled mess in the beautiful ceramic bowl by the door, and tossed them over effortlessly. “Greet Maedhros from me.”

Stalking away with enviable dignity, he refused to add any other parting words.

“But look at the picture!” Fingon whispered and held his phone aloft, waving it slightly at Turgon’s retreating back. “Eh, your loss.”

The caption said something about Tyelko having spiked the punch, but that was of little importance to Fingon—he was too entranced by the photograph itself, showing his sweet redhead in an uncharacteristically deep blue sweater.

As he hurried towards his car, almost slipping thrice because he couldn’t pry his gaze off the wavering screen in his numb hand, Fingon grinned like a lunatic to mirror the wide, happy smile his sweetheart was sporting.

He loved all of his boyfriend’s smiles—the tiny quirks making the corners of his mouth dance as much as the polite, subdued curve his fine lips assumed at times—but the open-mouthed grin knocked the very breath out of his lungs with amazement so rare and marvellous did it seem to him.

Russo, he thought fondly, didn’t stomach liquor well, especially not if it was in a hot beverage, and the tell-tale flush as well as the brightness of his eyes told him all he needed to know.

Suddenly, the ever-gnawing yearning in the pit of his stomach became positively unbearable as he thought of the strong, seemingly endless arms of his partner, wrapped a little too tightly around his waist.

He wanted this; he longed to be there to run his fingers along the intricate pattern of exquisite knitwear in his own colours and watch Russo flush under the onslaught of messy, cinnamon-flavoured kisses and the soothing effect of mulled wine.

“Moryo made the sweater for me; isn’t it lovely?”

Fingon started the car, weighing the pros and cons of texting while driving and stopping almost instantly again.

“It’s beautiful. You’re gorgeous,” he typed quickly.

“I might be a little tipsy. I miss you. The twins said that I am to be the tree this year—father didn’t find one he liked. Everyone agrees that I am tall enough. Hence the decorations. Do you like them?”

Swiping his thumb blindly across the screen, Fingon pulled up the picture again.

He wasn’t sure whether it was acceptable to call while Maedhros was with his family, but he felt as if he would die in the white hell of swirling snow if he didn’t hear that warm, serious voice telling him that everything was all right.

His father, of course, had raised him better than this, but Fingon nevertheless fiddled with his phone until he heard the clangourous ringing sound cut through the unnerving static of the engine purring in the background.

“Hey,” Maedhros said. “Are you not on your way down a slope right now? Are you being safe? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“Slow down, Red,” Fingon laughed, the weight on his chest dissolving into a puff of warm air, and turned the heating on. “I am indeed not skiing. Does your invitation still stand?”

A pensive hum resounded, mellow and satisfied, and then a sharp inhalation.

“Where are you, Fin?”

“I am in my car. Does your invitation stand, Russo?”

“Yes,” the other laughed. “I would warn you not to come—my brothers are in high spirits which is always a dangerous thing—but the idea of having you here is too alluring…”

“Tell me about your gifts,” Fingon pleaded softly as he raced out of the resort at twice the recommended speed. “I love the sweater. Is that a new prosthesis I’ve glimpsed?”

Gurgling with laughter, his swain confirmed. “Yeah, Curvo made it. It’s very good, very comfortable.”

“Can’t wait to feel it on my—wait, I am not on speakerphone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Maedhros exclaimed indignantly—his voice was so powerful and loud that he had single-handedly eliminated any need for such an accommodation anyway, but just hearing him sound so light-hearted was worth any and every indignity to Fingon.

“Maglor gave me a mug saying ‘Tall Ass Bitch’, which is funny because I got him a tiny blanket that said ‘Short King’. Isn’t that hilarious? He also made it himself—Mother was ecstatic.”

It was, as a matter of fact, hysterical, and Fingon had to focus hard not to drive off the road because he was shaking with laughter. “It sounds as if you’re having a marvellous time,” he wheezed. “I am glad. Turno is mad at me—I got your pic and just took off. Haven’t even said goodbye to the rest of the family.”

“You are disgusting,” Caranthir hollered from somewhere in the background. “I am moving my stuff into the movie room—no way I’ll sleep in the same room as you two.”

“Awww Moryo, don’t be like that,” Maedhros harrumphed. “Have another glass of glogg!”

“When I see what it’s done to you, no thank you,” came the reprobative answer, and then, there was silence once more.

“Please stay as you are,” Fingon beseeched his lover. “I want to be the one to pluck those pretty glass ornaments from your silken hair. Also, my fingers are itching to peel you out of this very nice sweater—not your usual colour palette, though, is it?”

“Moryo can say what he wants,” Maedhros replied smugly, “but he did choose your colours for my sweater, so he can’t object all that much, can he? He gets better every year, you must feel that thing—you couldn’t buy that kind of quality in just any regular shop.” The warm pride ringing in every word warmed Fingon’s heart as he pushed relentlessly through the rocky, snow-covered panorama of his holiday destination to reach the milder climates of the region surrounding the cute cabin his love’s family rented every year.

“Will he rat us out?” he then asked, slightly nervous. He liked Nerdanel, and he had taken his fair share of silly pictures of himself and his siblings to satisfy her addiction to cute but embarrassing photographs, but he did not want to crash her cosy getaway with her beloved children.

“OH,” Maedhros giggled. “They all know already—I might have pumped my fist and danced across the living room, almost trampling one of the twins who was looking for something under the couch, no matter…so yeah, my parents know that you’re coming. It’s all good. Better than good. You know what? I am going to put aside a bit of the punch for us—for later.”

The quality of his timbre had taken on a sultry, seductive note now, and Fingon shivered despite the hot air blasting through his car. Why were they so far apart?

“You do that, my love,” he said when he realised that he had not given any answer to that suggestion, so enthralled was he by the idea of his Russo—warm, pliable, and utterly contented—sprawling on a narrow bed for which he was much too tall. “I’d follow you anywhere, you know that, right? Over the endless ice and across the raging ocean—I’ll always come for you!”

“I hope so,” came the soft, mumbled reply. “And I’ll always be waiting, ever scanning the horizon feverishly for the deliverance of your friendship and love. Are you still very far?”

“Yes,” Fingon muttered, frustrated with how long and tedious his road would be, but just as determined to make it into those desperately wished-for arms as fast as possible. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bad weather conditions and adverse events delayed Fingon unduly but—just as the night grew pitch dark in the small, picturesque valley—he saw the majestic hill ahead. Nestled against its elegant slope stood a cottage—looking tiny from that distance—from which the brightly lit windows twinkled like golden stars.

“Soon, my darling,” Fingon hummed; he had not gotten an answer in at least twenty minutes, but the sound of his lover’s deep, regular breathing was nevertheless soothing and encouraging.

“Good evening, you must be tired. He…fell asleep. Do you want to go wake him, and I’ll make you a spot of dinner?” Nerdanel whispered as she opened the door, tutted at the glaring lack of sensible winterwear, and then pulled Fingon into a forceful, welcoming hug.

Nodding, Fingon kicked off his snow boots, and padded over to the couch on thick, woollen socks; he didn’t even mind the fact that several of Maedhros’s brothers were standing around, sniggering softly, as he bent over that curled-up form and breathed a tender kiss onto the chiselled jaw of his personal miracle.

“Good evening, sleepyhead,” he whispered, rubbing slow circles into the long, lean back of the peaceful sleeper. “Happy holidays, my love.”

When Maedhros blinked, dazed and confused, Fingon broke into a smile so deep and earnest, it made his eyes crinkle and his lips stretch taut over his flashing, slightly irregular teeth. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Finno, I am so sorry. You—You are already here? I dreamed of you; it was such a good dream,” Maedhros mumbled, rubbing his eyes and extending his hand to his mug automatically to chase the stale, sticky taste in his mouth.

“Your mother is making dinner,” Fingon explained as he shuffled onto the couch beside the jumble of shapely limbs and slid his hand into Maedhros’s warm palm.

“I am so happy that you’re here,” the still rather dopey ginger sighed, leaning his head—Christmas tree decoration and knots—against Fingon’s strong, muscular shoulder. “Now, it is perfect.”

“I am afraid,” Fingon confessed in a conspiratorial whisper, “that I have forgotten your gift in my suitcase. You’ll get it after the holidays! I swear!”

“Hmmm, you’re all I need.” Humming happily, Maedhros slung his arms around Fingon’s waist and so they sat, lulled by the whispered conversations of the ever-present gaggle of brothers and seduced into hunger by the aromatic fumes of a late-night dinner about to be served.

“Sweetling?” Fingon prompted suddenly as his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Could you please send my mother the picture of you? I am sure she’ll understand why I fled so haphazardly once she sees it.”

“I highly doubt that,” Maedhros chortled, “but I will, of course, try. We should spend a day or two with them before we go back home, how about that? I shall suffer the mockery of your siblings with equanimity.” “My brave, slightly drunk, very beautiful, utterly bewitching hero,” Fingon laughed, wrapped his arm around Maedhros’s slender shoulder, and promptly dozed off himself.

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Russingon #Maedhros #Fingon #Maedhros x Fingon #Modern!AU #Card AU #with art #the-red-butterfly #Rituals #Traditions #fluff

[bellysoupset]

bella would be lovely! maybe the sickie eats a bunch of colorful stuff and the sick is multi-colored. it would be a fun little detail to throw in. thanks for listening!

- 🎪

It's been a long time coming, I'm sorry!

---------

Lucas smiled, watching Bella jump up and down like a little kid, the excited joy almost alien in her normally nonchalant personality.

The itinerary amusement park was in town, a surprising thing in itself, because no itinerant park ever stopped by their small college oriented town. Bella had been talking about it non stop, apparently all three of her co-workers had already visited.

The park had a clown motif on everything. Lucas didn't like clowns, so he made a face at the painted characters on every attraction, while Bella looked more and more pleased. She loved clowns, maybe because they were creepy.

"What do you wanna do first?" He asked, hand in hand with her.

"I wanna go on the ferries," she answered, resting her head on his shoulder, a gigantic smile on.

"Alright, baby, ferries it is then," Lucas nodded, planting a kiss on the top of her curls.

He wasn't expecting to enjoy it quite as much as he was. Yes, he was clammy with sweat in no time since it was a warm day and yes, there had been a lot of queues, but the rides were fun and he had obliterated Bella in the bumper cars. Only for her to win him a large teddy bear in the shooting range, perfect aim causing the pimpled kid working the booth to pout and grumble about "cheating hilly billies."

"Can we put this in the car? So we don't have to carry it around," Bella said, poking the cute teddy bear and Lucas nodded, being guided through the crowd since Bell still had her fingers intertwined with his.

The minute he bent to plant the teddy bear in the backseat of the car, Bella was shoving him in, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. He fell on his back with a chuckle, his head meeting the teddy bear's fluffy foot, "we're-" his next words got swallowed up by a kiss as Bell got on top of him, "we're in public, you man eater!" Lucas giggled, smiling as he felt her moving her kisses down his cheek, to his neck.

"We're not doing anything," Bella said, voice muffled by his neck and Luke let out a happy sigh, sliding a hand over her little jeans shorts and squeezing her ass, "making out isn't a crime."

"Compelling argument," he said, moving on the seat so he was sitting down instead of sprawled on his back with his feet sticking out of the door and pulling her closer by the waist. He was toying with the hem of crop top, when his stomach interrupted them both by growling loudly.

"Mood killer," Luke scoffed, but didn't stop him from kissing her again, Bella giggling when her own belly let out a twin growl.

"Let's have lunch," she said into his mouth, "we can continue this later."

"I'm taking that as a promise, Bells" He kissed her once more, then pulled back.

He had her lipstick all over his mouth, Bella getting on her tiptoes in order to try and clean it.

There was a huge line for the food stand, so she draped over him, chin resting on his bicep as Lucas started telling her about the new classes he had, since the student year had just started back up.

"So do you get two proms?"

"It's not a prom," Luke scoffed, cheeks blushing, "I'm not a teenager."

"Answer my question, nerd" Bella rolled her eyes, fingers fiddling with the huge armholes of his tanktop, "two graduations?"

"Yeah, but I can just pick the second one and have them give me both degrees."

"Show off," she smiled brilliantly, "I hope you know how proud I am of you."

His whole face was on fire, so Lucas looked away, squeezing her hand in his. It was finally their turn to order and between the hunger, the heat and the butterflies, his stomach was actually hurting.

They found a nice little hill near the park and sat down on the grass, their huge lunch order split between them. Everything fried. Cake funnel, donuts, corndogs, fries, deep fried oreos, churros...

"I think you ordered too much food," Bella said, eyeing the amount with suspicion and falling on her back on the grass, already polishing up her first corn dog.

"No, I didn't," Lucas rolled his eyes, patting his stomach, "it's bulking season, remember? I'm off diet."

"Oh yeah, your state mandated eating disorder," she snorted, turning on her side, "this cannot be good to your heath long term, baby."

"It's not long term, it's the last year," he pouted, finishing a corn dog in three bites. Bella hummed, reaching for a sprinkles covered donut and then she let out a moan.

"These are really good, Luke. Try it-" she teared a piece of her donut, pushing it in his mouth and he laughed, almost biting her fingers.

"Manners!?" Lucas pushed her hand down, then wrinkled his nose, "eh... I don't know, I didn't like it."

She let out an offended scoff, "more for me, I guess," Bella said, grabbing all the sprinkled donuts and piling them near her side, while Lucas continued to eat all the salty food.

He was halfway through a caramelized apple when Bella let out a groan and sprawled on the grass, a hand resting on her stomach, "I'm done."

"That was hardly anything," he rolled his eyes, although he was surprised she had managed to eat all the donuts. Bella groaned, tugging on her jeans shorts.

"Leave me alone," she said, "eat your food, I still wanna go in at least two more rides."

"I had no idea you loved parks so much," Lucas said, balling up the greasy papers of the now empty containers.

"It's like music concerts," she sighed, looking up at the clouds, "minus the super hot bands and the musicians, of course."

He rolled his eyes, "Of course."

"I like the atmosphere," Bella explained, smiling, "I like the contagious energy. Rubs off on me."

"So like an energy vampire," Lucas teased, "that guy from Twilight."

Bella raised an eyebrow, "...How many times did you watch the movies, you dork?"

"I read the books," Lucas shrugged, "when I was thirteen."

"Oh my god," she giggled, covering her face with her hands, "all of them?!"

"All of them," he nodded solemnly, then eyed the last remaining caramelized apple, "okay, no. This one is getting trashed."

Bella raised her head from the grass, frowning, "you're done? So soon?"

"I don't wanna spend the rest of the day feeling gross," Lucas shrugged, getting up with all the litter in his arms, "we have plans for later," he threw her a cocky wink and then walked away to get rid of the trash.

Bella was already sitting up when he came back and she muffled a little burp against her hand as Lucas stood in front of her, "let's go?"

"Here, hydrate," Lucas handed her a bottle of water, grabbing Bell's outstretched hand and pulling her up. He patted her ass, getting rid of the grass that had stuck to the jeans and causing her to roll her eyes in an amused manner.

"You're so very subtle..." Bella looped her arms with his, "let's go on the viking pirate ship? And then the ferris wheel? Where do you wanna go?"

"We can do the viking ship, but I don't know about the rest, baby," Lucas eyed the sky. The sun was just starting to hide behind clouds and the temperature dropping, "it's starting to look like it'll rain."

"We're not gonna melt, Lucas" Bella rolled her eyes, pulling him through the crowd.

"Yeah, but I don't trust these rides to work in the rain, Isabella."

"You are such a worrywart, like it's your job or something," Bella said as they got in line for the ride. It was a short one, Lucas was right and the sky was turning quite dark, most of the parents packing away their little ones to avoid getting rained on.

"No, c'mere," Bella said when he attempted to sit down the minute they were allowed to climb on the big viking boat, "the middle is the most boring part. It's physics, baby," she dragged him to the far back, where the seats were smaller, only fitting three people. Only two with how much space Luke occupied.

"I've never been on this ride," he said, as they lowered the metal bar and checked if it was secure. It pressed against his stomach after such a packed lunch and he moved up, straightening up, "is this even secure for you? You could still fly out," he said, noticing the bar was far from pressing on Bella.

"I have hands, relax," she rolled her eyes, squeezing the metal bar in her hands, "see?"

He didn't like it one bit. Lucas planted his left hand on top of Bella's right one, making sure it was planted to metal and squeezing it too. He heard her let out a huff, but then the ride started.

First the boat swayed gently, forward and back. Then it started to pick up speed and soon the whole ride was doing almost entire loops. Going as far out as it could, then coming back.

Lucas let out a scream as the boat went back, meaning they were going higher and higher, almost upside down. He had never been afraid of heights, but he felt a jolt of terror rush through him. He squeezed the metal harder and moved his arm out, pressing it to Bella's chest when he felt the centrifuge force pull her to the center, ungluing her from the chair... Then the ride dropped back again, his stomach freezing over.

It wasn't even ten minutes, but when it finally stopped Lucas was panting for air, little terrified tears glued to his eyelashes.

"Holy fuck, Bella!" He cried out, sniffling and turning to look at her. Only to frown, "Bella?"

"Lu..." she gulped down, trying to push the metal bar off of her, but to no avail. The operator opened them and then started rattling out instructions.

Lucas cringed as he noticed how pale she was, her golden tan turning grey. Her throat bobbed dangerously, "shh, okay, breathe in, I'm gonna get you out of here-" he grabbed her by both arms, forcing her standing and Bella groaned. She was steady on her feet, but clearly without knowing each way to go.

"Alright, I-" Lucas looked around, panicked. They managed to get out of the ride, but the place was still packed tight and he couldn't find a single trashcan. In his arms, he felt Bella heave and then groan, muffling a sick burp against his chest, "fuck, Bells, let's try to get-"

He didn't finish that sentence, because Bella shoved him by the chest and managed to turn away just in time to cover her combat boots in colorful vomit. Lucas cringed, holding the hair away from her mouth.

"Aww Bell... It's okay, let it up, at least you'll feel better," he said, reaching on her wrist and grabbing a hair tie, tying the curls in a lose knot on the base of her nape.

Bella let out a whimper, the next heave making her bend in half, hands planted on her knees as her stomach got rid of the heavy sugary lunch they had had. Lucas couldn't help but wince, the donuts were doing a number on her with how chunky they were and her heaves were loud and painful.

She straightened up, sniffling. Black tears had ran down her cheek, completely smudging her eyeliner and her whole face was splotchy with the effort, "I'm sorry-" Bella groaned, burping wetly against her hand, "sorry..."

"Don't apologize," he rolled his eyes, pulling her into a hug, "c'mon, let's go to the car..."

He attempted to move, but it was too much too soon, because Bella let out another burp and then her hands dug in his belly as she pushed him apart from her and vomited down her front.

Her gunmetal croptop got covered in rainbow sprinkles puke, the mess sliding down - "Okay, hold on, hold on," Lucas grabbed the hem of the top, folding it up in order to avoid the mess spilling down her naked stomach or into her shorts, "I got you, Bella."

She let out another pitiful whine, another dripple of vomit rushing out, then sighed, "I'm...I'm done."

He sure hoped so, Lucas, thought, noticing how heavy her top was, "don't move, babe," he said, then tugged on the neck hole of her top and carefully got it past her head. He dropped the top on the ground, without a care. That one was done for, there was no saving. Bella shuddered, crossing her arms around herself in a self conscious manner as she stood in the middle of the park in just her black sport bra.

"Lucas-"

"It's okay, here," he stripped his tank top and passed it to her. It was so long it looked like a dress, so he pointed the shorts under the tank top, "might as well open those, give your belly some room."

"Good call," Bella said, her voice raspy, and she undid the buttons of her shorts, wrapping an arm around her sick stomach, "I wanna go home, I really don't feel well, Luke."

"I know... Come on, hop up-" he turned around and although Bella hesitated for a second, it only took one pat to her thigh for her to drape her arms around his shoulders and jump, wrapping her legs around his waist. He held her thighs, settling her correctly so she wouldn't slip from the piggyback ride and felt Bella press her chin to his shoulder and planting a kiss there.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, Bells," Lucas started to walk back to the car, "was it just motion sickness? And the heavy lunch? Or-"

"Not sure," she pressed herself closer to him, letting out a sigh he could feel too, "I'm just really queasy... Not sure if I ate too much or if the food was bad or whatever."

He winced at the idea of it being good poisoning, "let's hope it's just the first," he squeezed her leg, that was wrapped around his torso, "tell me if I need to put you down, okay?"

"Okay," she said in a tiny voice, then pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I love you."

Lucas smiled, turning his face and planting a kiss on her forehead, "i love you too."

#sickfic #mywriting #emetophilia #emeto #isabella martinez #overeating

[tobiasdrake]

So, I've complained extensively about 3-1's terrible Motive. It's time to talk about what works with this setup - and, in a sense, why such an obviously bad Motive would be written in the first place.

While the Motive itself is terrible, it exists not to create an interesting reason for the characters to kill each other, but rather for a different purpose entirely.

In Danganronpa 1, the characters' relationships with one another was what drove the plot. In DR2, it was driven by the Remnants' missing history and redemptive journey, with sacrifice being a core theme. For V3, a major thread that runs through each individual case is "cutting the knot".

Tsumugi is a talentless hack of a writer, and her Killing Game is an incompetently managed mess - often to a comical degree. In turn, the victims of her Game are able to be the single most uncooperative bunch of would-be Blackeneds ever to grace the Mutual Killing Game stage. The murders that take place throughout V3 happen in spite of Tsumugi and Monokuma's machinations, rather than because of them.

She can't keep her players on the rails. This blows up in her face multiple times over the course of the Game - even to the point of subjecting her to multiple full-scale violent revolts. Someone arms her secret base with an assassination trap in the first case and that's just the start of the insurrections she's going to face. She's. Just. Not very good at Masterminding. As a DM, it's hard to be Junko Enoshima.

In the first case of DR1, Junko expected that her players wouldn't be persuaded to kill even with the interesting Motive she offered. She had a whole tutorial murder set up with a co-conspirator, meant to get the game started and grease everyone's wheels into the necessary paranoia needed for them to start killing each other. Then she was surprised when this became unnecessary; the Hope of the Future were way more willing to go along with her despair than even Junko anticipated.

Here in this first case, Tsumugi finds herself in the opposite boat. The best she can come up with for a Motive is, "Uh, do it OR I'LL FUCKIN' SHOOT YA!" But rather than terrify these randos into submission, her trash Motive has the opposite effect: They come together in solidarity. Rather than hop onboard and start killing each other, her LARPers gather up weapons to fight for their lives against the horde of Monokumas.

That is the worst possible outcome for the Killing Game. When you shove a gun in someone's face and order them to kill, they aren't going to think, "Who can I kill and how do I go about it?" They're going to think, "What do I need to do to get this fucking gun out of my face?" You are now their problem to solve.

She's supposed to turn them against each other but has instead given them a mutual enemy to unify against. She went for a physical threat instead of a psychological one and utterly shot herself in the foot. It's hard to be Junko Enoshima.

It is only by the sheer good fortune of Kaede's attempt to kill Tsumugi and Rantaro miraculously picking just the right moment to investigate Tsumugi's base, that this didn't wind up being the most anticlimactic season in the history of the show. And when that still didn't work, Tsumugi had to put her hand on the scale, fabricating a fake murder through authorial fiat. A fact that will ultimately be the undoing of her sloppily-managed mess of a season.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #revisiting drv3

[softguarnere]

The Freudian Slip (Part 2/2)

Part (2/2) - you can call me names if you call me up

Joe Liebgott x reader

A/N: You guys ever mishear a song lyric and center a fic idea around it, only to realize later that you've been singing it wrong for months? Yeah, that's me with "3 Nights" by Dominic Fike. I could have sworn the lyrics were "you can call me names if you call me yours", so at this point, we're just gonna have to commit to it, because this fic took me way too long to finish to change it now lol. (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Also thank you to all the lovely tumblr friends who helped with ideas for this fic or offered encouragement 😌 I'm honestly so honored that people reached out to tell me they were excited for part 2💕🕊️

Warnings: depictions of war, language

Things have been different since that day in the foxhole. But you can't find the words the express why it feels that way. Or at least, you can't until Liebgott swipes some Hershey Bars from Luz and tosses one to you.

"He's acting so weird," you confide in Luz, who shoots you a mildly annoyed look when you rip open the wrapper and take a bite. The radioman sighs as he readies himself for the patrol. You roll your eyes, gently knocking your foot against his leg. "I'm sorry I got one of the chocolate bars. You can have half if you want."

Luz laughs, but it's not his usual upbeat chuckle. "No, (Y/N). It's just that he was right."

"Who?"

"Liebgott."

"Well I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day. What was he right about?"

"You." George gives you his full attention. He looks exasperated. "You really haven't picked up on any of his hints." When you raise your eyebrows in question, he sighs again. "(Y/N), are you telling me that you really haven't realized that Liebgott has feelings for you?"

The next bite of chocolate almost lodges itself in your throat as you take a surprised inhale. Carefully, you finish chewing it, wrapping up the rest of the Hershey Bar for later before you ask, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Luz curses softly under his breath. "I can't believe it."

"George, I don't even know what you're talking about. Liebgott hates me." I don't hate you, he had said back in the foxhole that day. "Okay, he doesn't like me very much. That's why he's so mean to me."

Except for recently, when he's suddenly been so different around you. While you've still been tossing teasing remarks his way and trying to ignore the affection you've developed for him through the course of the war, Joe has suddenly stopped his teasing, instead settling for always making sure that you have a K Ration before anyone else, or that you're okay after any sort of run-in with the Germans.

But what does that mean?

Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, Luz provides an answer. "You guys were always sort of hard on each other. But then when he realized that he had feelings for you --"

"How would you know?"

"Because he told me," Luz deadpans. "After Bastogne and Foy and everything, we got to talking one day, and he said that after what you said he realized that he liked you. I told him I didn't know how you felt, but that maybe if he changed how he acted around you, you would catch on."

More questions swirl through your mind at a million miles an hour. You manage to catch onto a few of the more coherent ones. "You mean you knew? And you didn't tell me?"

"He came to me because I'm your friend. I thought that you would catch on and you guys would work it out. I didn't know it would get dragged out like this!"

"And what do you mean, 'after what I said'?" Nothing particularly interesting had happened in the foxhole. Liebgott had established that he didn't completely despise you, you had acted perfectly normal considering that you were stuck with your crush for a whole day, and then he had let you rest. There was hardly any conversation, all things considered.

George's eyebrows scrunch together as he thinks. "Something you called him. Sweetheart, or something. But in German."

"Liebling," you translate automatically.

It feels as if ice water has just been dropped over your head, chilling your spine and then settling in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Liebling. Liebgott. What did you do?

Before you can even start to think that maybe calling the man you've secretly been in love with Darling isn't as bad as you might think, Luz's mouth falls into a capital O. The icy water in your stomach churns. "I've messed up."

Instead of grinding to a halt, the world around you continues on. Luz even begins readying his gear again. But you need time to think.

"What do I do?"

"Well that depends," your friend says. "How do you feel about Liebgott?" He shoots you a quizzical sideways glance. When you bite your lip, you suddenly have his full attention again. "Oh shit. So you do like him back." There's no question in his voice -- it's a statement of fact.

The very fact you had hoped to keep hidden. The fact that you somehow revealed to the person you were trying to hide it from.

"You're not going on the patrol, and neither is he," Luz points out gently. "Maybe . . ."

. . . you can talk to him while everyone else is away, he doesn't finish, but for the first time in forever, you manage to take a hint.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth while you think. "Yeah. Maybe."

--

By some stroke of luck – good or bad, you have yet to figure out – you get paired up with Liebgott to man one of the machine guns on the American side of the river. Not the most appropriate time to have a conversation about your feelings towards each other. But then again, there’s a war going on. If not now, when? Something else will always come up. There could always be some other excuse not to talk to him, and then you would just put it off forever. No time like the present.

If only you could find the right words . . . like you had back in the foxhole, when it had been an accident.

“Something wrong?” Liebgott asks as you set up the machine gun. Down below the building, everyone who will be crossing the river is starting to group up, getting final orders before they head out.

“Just thinking. I’m glad it’s not us.” It’s only half a lie. You are glad that you’re not going to be in a tiny boat on a cold river. But it’s not necessarily the thought at the forefront of your mind.

Liebgott nods. “Yeah, well, they didn’t need three translators. High time that Webster pulled his weight around here, after four months in that hospital.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes you suspect he had something to do with the last-minute notice that you wouldn’t be crossing the river. “Did you do something?”

“Technically, Webster came to the decision on his own. After I pointed out that his German is just as good as ours.”

Just as good as ours. Huh. In the past, he was never willing to put the two of you on par with each other. In your chest, your heart fumbles and it feels like tripping over your own feet when you run.

“Thank you.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“No, but . . .” Damnit, where are the words when you need them? You huff a sigh. “I’ve been thinking. About when you got hit in the neck in Holland.”

His eyebrows disappear beneath the brim of his helmet as he raises them. “And why is that?”

Your throat goes dry. A second before, you had convinced yourself that there was no time like the present. And now that it’s here . . . You’ve been less nervous in high-stress combat situations.

“That was when I realized how I felt about you,” you admit, the words tumbling out in a rush before you can hold them back. “That was when I realized that I like you.”

Cool, confident Liebgott is good at keeping his face neutral when he wants to. It’s one of the things that you’ve picked up on from watching him, one of those little things about him that you’ve come to adore just because it’s part of what makes him him. For a split second, he freezes. Being so close to him, you can’t miss it. His face starts to go neutral, but the side of his mouth twitches upwards a bit.

“(Y/N), if you’re fuckin’ with me . . .”

“I’m not.”

He laughs louder than someone trying to set up in a stealthy position probably should. It’s not his usual laugh; its half relieved, half confused. “You called me Liebling, but kept pestering me like it was any other day.”

“You used to poke fun at me all the time!”

“Yeah, used to. Then I realized why I was doing it. I thought you would have figured it all out.” He smirks. “I kind of miss giving you a hard time, though. Calling you names and challenging you.”

“Well, you could call me names if you call me yours.” You both blink, taking in what you’ve said. His careful expression cracks to reveal a smile.

“You called me Liebling,” Liebgott remembers. For the first time – or actually, the first time that you’ve noticed – he looks at you with a soft expression as he fondly takes you in instead of sizing you up for competition. “So how does that fit into this?”

“To be fair, I don’t remember saying it,” you admit. You rush on before he can look disappointed, “A Freudian slip; I was worn out and kind of excited about being a foxhole with you.”

He gives you one of his goofier smiles. “Well if I had known that at the time . . .”

You roll your eyes. “Oh yeah. What an experience that would have been.”

“Still . . .” He steps around the machine gun, closing the distance between you. “Do you want me to call you mine? Even if I tease you sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then.” Liebgott’s smile is bright enough to light up the night and give away your position. “But what if I call you Darling instead?”

Keeping your eyes on him, you reach out and find his hand, intertwining your fingers together; it makes it feel official, somehow. “Then I would like that very much.” You squeeze his hand. It’s surprisingly soft, like his heart, which he has chosen to expose part of to you. “And what should I call you?”

“Anything you want. As long as you call me yours.”

#soft!Liebgott my beloved #it's been over a month since I posted the first part of this?! #I am so sorry about that y'all #I thought I would have more time #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #my writing #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott #george luz #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine

[ddejavvu]

Eddie and Steve planning a whole Valentine’s Day of stuff for your first Valentine’s together. Except you don’t turn up to Steve’s house where they’re both waiting. And then they get a call from your friend. And they have to find you getting stitches in the hospital before you can leave, because you accidentally got a little injured on your way over. But it’s all panic over and giggles when they can kiss you better and wait for you to get the all clear and continue your plans ❤️

"I'm calling it," Steve decides, gnawing on his lip, shoes wearing a track in the carpet.

"Sit down, Harrington," Eddie scoffs, and the teasing nickname comes out harsher than he means it to out of nerves, "Just- just be patient, okay? I'm sure she's just.. getting gas, or something."

"For forty-five minutes? No, Eddie, something's wrong." Steve sighs, and he rakes his hand through his hair again. Eddie's watched him do it 12 times in the past 5 minutes, if he's not careful he's gonna pull it right out.

"Listen, there's nothing we can do! She's on her way to meet us here, if we leave then she'll show up and have to go right back out again to look for us. And- and she'd probably freak out if we weren't here! The best thing we can do is just stay put, okay?"

"No, not okay! You- you stay here, then," Steve jams a hand in his pocket and pulls out his keys, "I'm gonna look for her."

"Dude-" Eddie scoffs, throwing a hand over his eyes and dragging it down his face, "Can you just-"

The phone rings.

Both men bolt for the receiver, Eddie knocking his foot into Steve's on accident. It sends the latter swerving to brace his shoulder against the wall so that he doesn't topple over, and Eddie shoots a hand out to brace against Steve's waist and steady him.

"Hello?" Eddie's hair is dangling off his shoulders, nearly tangling itself with the phone cord.

All Steve can hear is muffled speaking, a tinny sound through the speaker. But Eddie's face pales, and he know it can't be good.

"Jesus, yeah," Eddie huffs, reaching for his own keys, "Just- we'll be right there, okay? Tell her- tell her we're on our way."

Steve grabs Eddie's shoulder when the man rushes to hang up the receiver, "What was that?"

"She's in the hospital," Eddie mumbles, and Steve's stomach drops, "Just- stitches or something, I- I dunno. Let's go, Steve, she's waiting for us."

"Wait," Steve calls, brandishing his own keys towards Eddie, "My car."

"It doesn't fucking matter who's car we take!" Eddie scolds him, jamming his feet into his sneakers, "We just need to get there fast."

"If we take your van we might not get there at all," Steve snaps, forgoing shoes for slippers by the door, "That bag of ass is gonna quit on us when it really matters, I just know it. My car."

"Fine," Eddie grumbles, snatching a plush teddy bear keychain off of the table that they'd planned to give you when you got there, "Let's go."

--

It's not as bad as it looks. It does look bad, it was a big cut. But not a deep one, thankfully. You'd just scraped your hand along a jagged strip of plastic at the gas station, your tank full but your hand slowly leaking blood.

It had been a short but scary ambulance ride, to say the least. But now you're sitting in a hospital bed, hand in stitches and limbs antsy. You knew Steve and Eddie were going to be worried about you even if it wasn't a bad cut, and you hated to think of them waiting for you all that time without knowing where you were.

You should have known they'd come bursting through the doors, and a knot of anxiety in your chest loosens at the sight of them, panting, red-faced.

"Guys!" You gush, reaching out for them and forgetting the IV in your arm, "Oh- uh, come here, please."

"Baby," Eddie croons, possessing little to no decorum as he crawls up onto the bed despite Steve's protests, "We were so worried!"

Steve grabs Eddie by the hips, yanking his lower half off of your bed and into the chair by your bedside, "Yeah, are you- are you okay?"

"I'm fine," You showcase your stitches, and your cheeks heat up when Eddie leans over to press his lips to them.

Then his face wrinkles, and his lips rub together, "That felt weird."

"I'm sorry," You moan, letting Steve tug you forwards by the back of your neck to kiss you, "I ruined Valentine's Day!"

"I'm pretty sure you saved it," Eddie muses, "Would'a been shitty to plan your funeral tomorrow, so we're glad you got yourself to the hospital."

"You didn't ruin it," Steve promises, tugging the teddy bear out of Eddie's back pocket and pressing it into your hands, "We're just glad you're okay, honey."

Eddie bumps his nose against your temple and you lean against him, his lips pressing rapidfire pecks to your cheek. Steve's hand looks lonely on the bedspread so you grab it, squeezing as he smiles up at you like a lovesick puppy.

"Stevie," You coo, turning on the charm as high as it'll go with a few bats of your eyelashes, "I saw chocolate in the gift shop.. Can I have some?"

"We have chocolate at home-" He starts, but gnaws on his lower lip when you make your eyes extra sad and shiny, "-But.. But I guess if it would help you feel better."

"It will!" You cheer, leaning your cheek against Eddie's own, "I think Eddie needs some too, y'know. He seems pretty scared."

"I'm a bundle'a nerves," He nods, grinning up at Steve, "Dark chocolate for me, Stevie."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington dialogue #steddie x reader

[mdhwrites]

Ok i was thinking more about the ending of TOH... i suddenly noticed the whole 'human and witch colab society' thing, and its... its so bad? where did this even come from?

did the writers really just dump a 'oh by the way the witches are going to try make friendly contact with the humans, you know, even though witches have voiced digust or superiority to humans, or even though humans are incredibly vicious to anything different and would 100% wage war in a millisecond??'

Like that is such a HUGE FUCKING plot point to just TACK ON at the last 5 minutes with zero reference to this outside of a one off line from gus in the palismen ep???? why is this show that i love written so randomly?!

*goes to get some rope to pull you back with* I... don't get the outrage with this one. It's a harmless element in the finale that implies things are going to get better. It's a throwaway line or background element or whatever it is and it's something that a lot of finales for shows like these are theoretically going to do. It's harmless fun that plays into the fantasy that everything will be okay for the characters. ... Okay but I do actually have a complaint of my own. Not really with the concept of human/witch relations. I don't care whatsoever with that. Again, it's purely throwaway. If it was anything else, Gus might have been a real character or been given some real respect in the finale by going to human world to study. It's more that... Why bother? When is the next time Luz is going to go back to the Human Realm to do anything besides say hi to her mom? Like outside of witches fucking humans and getting to pretend that your own witch will step through the portal and date you, what is the point of even gesturing towards this bit of fluff? Usually it's to imply that peace is achievable or that the fantastical and reality are coming together. Who cares with TOH though? The Isles is barely different from our world besides their denizens having magic. Luz's story is absolutely not about peace BETWEEN worlds. It's just about being happy in her fantasy. When is she even going to bother going home after all? At best, she'll do it to see her mom but that's pretty much it. She has no reason to go home. No reason to find harmony or peace. It's kind of a running issue for me with the finale that I'm not really sure why they bothered with the portal door. Outside of allowing for a SPECK of an ability to say this isn't pure wish fulfillment (which frankly I'd argue the twin worlds life still is maximum thrust on that) and not leaving Vee homeless... What's the point? Do any of the witches have an interest in the human realm? Outside of the dude who has a human fetish, no. Does Luz have any interest in it? No. Will King be going to the human realm? No. So who is spearheading this program? People who see Amity and go "I want to be that! Married to a human!" The human world matters so little, and contrasting against it has meant so little to the show, that I just don't get why they even bothered including classic nods of fluff. If you're going to be dumb fun, be dumb fun. Be over the top and silly, especially if you're going to curb stomp your themes besides "You're special" for your finale anyways? But... TOH wants to be smart. It has no idea how to be smart but it wants to be so it's not going to have the fun it should. So honestly, why not get mad at the fluff? The show wants to claim better than that anyways so its audience is trained to ask these sorts of questions. This ask is literal proof that TOH shoots itself in the foot by trying to claim to be better than other things because it means it can't just have some fluff, even when it's warranted. Not when it would mock other shows for the exact same elements. ========

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#The Owl House Criticism #TOH Critical

[missingmywing]

Much shorter today, but both soft and angsty.

Ryomina Day 2: Stargazing/First Kiss (Ao3 Link)

These are all going to be continuations of Day 1 because I wanna explore this au more.

The amount of flipflopping I did trying to figure out if it’s even possible to see the stars in Kyoto - even at the stargazing spots - was… a lot, and I still didn’t get a definitive answer. All the pictures I looked at said no, but I also acknowledge that cameras aren’t always great, and they are called stargazing lookouts on various tourist sites. And the game and movie both show stars at night so we’re going to set aside the potential realities of light pollution and say that you can. And the first day of the trip is a new moon too, so it’d be a waste not to take advantage of that.

The hiking trail Ryoji drags Minato up against his will:https://www.insidekyoto.com/shogunzuka-seiryuden-hike-chion-temple

Also as usual, the song I listened to while writing this:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ox7Wt6fsm_A

Ryomina to Kimi no Na wa is somehow even more devastating.

~ ᙙᙖ ~

Minato had never really gotten attached to things before this year - aside from the mp3 player and Death/Thanatos - so he didn’t really miss anything from his childhood. But the one good thing that he could admit to missing, if he thought about it, was wandering the streets of Inagawa at night and looking up at the stars.

The green distortion of the dark hour tended to obscure the light of the stars, but even when it didn’t the light pollution of Tokyo not far away - plus Tatsumi Port Island itself - largely blocked them out.

Which meant that when they went to Kyoto for the school trip, Ryoji apparently decided on his own that that meant they should sneak out and go to the nearby Shogunzuka Seiryuden Temple to see if they could see any. Apparently it was the best lookout in the city, and a good place to stargaze.

Minato had his doubts given how bright the city was, but Ryoji seemed excited so he didn’t argue and just let the Shadow-turned-Persona-turned-boy sneak them out of the inn on the first night there to drag him on the long walk to the foot of the temple, then the half hour hike up to the temple itself.

If it had been anyone else Minato would have been annoyed and turned around. Ryoji was very lucky Minato liked him so much.

… especially after those six days where he’d been convinced that he’d lost him after Thanatos just vanished from his soul before Ryoji just showed up to school (which he still hadn’t explained and probably wouldn’t).

But Ryoji hadn’t let go of his hand the whole time they’d been walking, fingers intertwined and arms swinging as he chattered about the various things he’d been doing and exploring around Iwatodai and Tatsumi Port Island in the ten or so days he’d been consciously physical. It was almost surprising to hear how much he’d been doing without Minato - it had felt almost like they’d been glued together since the moment Ryoji walked into class with a grin and flirty line.

(It had taken an enormous amount of restraint for Minato not to throw himself out of desk and storm up to the front demanding to know where he’d been - the sudden flood of emotions he’d been struggling with since Thanatos vanished and suddenly whatever emotional suppression effect he’d had on Minato had vanished along with him had been difficult - but he’d managed to limit his reaction to a narrowed-eyed glare. They’d all thought Aigis was going to break cover and shoot him on the spot before she’d managed to get her own instinctual reaction under control.)

But they still spent a decent amount of time apart, given how busy Minato was helping various Social Links and Ryoji flirting his way through getting to know the entire school - how he was doing that without getting murdered by half the school population Minato neither knew nor cared - so it shouldn’t have been the surprise it was to realize that Ryoji somehow knew an entire year’s worth of drama that he hadn’t been around for.

Minato really didn’t care about the breakups and revenge plots and planned confessions of various couples around the school but Ryoji looked like he was having fun so he let him talk and only partially tuned him out.

When he’d come on the Kyoto trip he really hadn’t expected to be dragged on a multi-kilometer hike, but… well it wasn’t awful. The air was chilly enough that he wasn’t hot, and the months they’d spent sprinting up floor after floor of Tartarus meant he could easily handle the hike.

It just would have been nice to have some forewarning - or even just taken a taxi up.

But Ryoji was determined to have as many experiences as possible in the three months they had before The Fall, and Minato couldn’t fault him for it.

No one could escape time, not even the two of them, so they might as well make the most of it.

The downward turn of his thoughts must have been apparent to Ryoji - of course they were, he’d spent ten years sharing Minato’s soul - because the boy squeezed his hand with a sad smile and then yanked him forward.

Minato yelped and scrambled to catch his balance, and then they were running. Sprinting up the stairs, chilly autumn air whipping at their cheeks and red leaves and stone path blurring around them as Ryoji laughed and led the way and Minato couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed as he rushed to keep up.

It was exhausting and exhilarating, the world blurring and fading away until all he could feel were the pounding of his heart and the slap of his shoes against the stone pathway and Ryoji’s hand in his, all he could see was Ryoji’s beaming smile and eerie two-toned blue eyes glowing in the dark.

When they finally reached the top Minato had to stop and double over to clutch at his side as he gasped for breath. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how not human Ryoji was.

There was a reason only Aigis could keep up with him.

“Sorry,” the Shadow-turned-boy offered sheepishly. “You alright?”

“F-Fine,” Minato panted. “Just… just give me… a minute…” Too many nights running from the Reaper had given him stamina at least, and the sudden thought made him snort.

Ryoji tilted his head questioningly.

Minato finally managed to straighten and begin to even out his breaths. “Usually I’m running away from the Reaper, not trying to catch up to him.”

That drew a startled laugh from Ryoji as he set his hands on his hips. “I’m not the Reaper! I mean I’m kind of similar I guess, but we’re still different! The Reaper doesn’t come from Nyx, I don’t think.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Not that I know of,” Ryoji shrugged. “I think it just comes from… elsewhere, like most Shadows,” he waved his hand vaguely in the air, “-and is drawn to places where Shadows gather.”

“Huh… well, you’re still kind of a reaper, even if you aren’t the Reaper.”

Ryoji stuck his tongue out at him. “Fair enough I guess. Now come on, we’re almost there!” He grabbed Minato’s hand and returned to pulling him forward towards the path opening up into the viewpoint area.

It was a small observational area overlooking the southern sector of Kyoto, and in the far distance he could even make out the glittering lights of Osaka in the clear, moonless night.

The important thing, though, was the endless expanse of stars above them that he hadn’t expected to see.

Minato stared wide-eyed, slowly walking forward towards the railing with Ryoji trailing behind him.

They weren’t quite as clear as they’d been in Inagawa, but they were there and sparkling like thousands of tiny fireflies in the far distance.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being able to see them, and was even more startled by the sudden choking well of emotion rising from his chest to his throat and spilling out from his eyes. Was he really crying over the stars?

The sudden unpracticed ability to feel a full range of emotion again was becoming inconvenient.

He reached up to scrub at his eyes and tried not to jump when he felt arms wrap unexpected around his waist as Ryoji rested his chin on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, you know,” he murmured in his ear.

“They’re just stars,” Minato shot back, leaning into his hug. “They’re pretty, but it’s not worth crying over.”

“Isn’t it?” Ryoji countered. “You’ve missed them haven’t you. What wrong with that?”

… what indeed.

“It’s not like they’ve gone anywhere. I just couldn’t see them.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to miss them.”

Minato had a feeling they weren’t just talking about the stars anymore.

Sighing, Minato reached down to intertwine their fingers. “It’s still annoying that I can’t control my emotions anymore.”

Ryoji snorted and pressed his face to Minato’s shoulder. “You mean that you have emotions again. You’ll get used to it - they aren’t bad.”

“Easy for you to say.” But Minato didn’t argue with him, just tipped his head back to stare up at the stars and try to remember the patterns of constellations. He could remember a few, tracing their paths with his eyes, and it was comfortable in the silence between them as he looked up at the twinkling lights in the sky and Ryoji looked down at the glittering lights of the city.

“It’s ironic,” Ryoji murmured finally. “I bet none of the scientists ever thought that the personification of Death could learn to value life, could learn to want to live and want humanity to live. I love you and I love them, and ten years ago I couldn’t have even imagined that I would be able to.”

Minato tightened his grip reflexively, trying to ignore the sudden burning behind his eyes and throat at the reminder. “I bet they’d be mortified,” he murmured. “Strega and Ikutsuki sure were.”

A wet laugh tumbled from the boy behind him. “Yeah, yeah they were. But I do. I do want to live. I want to live, and keep learning about people, seeing how they live and what they think. And I want to keep waking up every day with you and going down to the lobby to eat breakfast that Shinji made everyone while Yukari and Junpei argue and Akihiko and Mitsuru ignore them, and Fuuka tries to keep the peace while Ken sneaks Koromaru food from his plate, and Aigis tries to figure out why they’re arguing this time.” He was shaking, burying his face in Minato’s shoulder to hide his tears. “I want to stay with you forever, just like this.”

The tears had won the battle against Minato and they streaked down his face and turned the stars above them into a blur. He swallowed the knot in his throat and whispered, “Me too. I don’t want you to leave me too. I want to keep you here.” Wanted to drag Thanatos back into his soul, entwine them so strongly once more that he couldn’t leave him behind again. But they both knew he couldn’t - Ryoji’s very existence was proof that Death was whole once more, and a single human soul couldn’t contain Death without destroying itself.

But that didn’t mean he was willing to let go either.

Minato turned suddenly, startling Ryoji into loosening his grip, until they were facing each other. And it was a whim, a thoughtless, desperate motion to connect them once more that made Minato reach up to wrap his arms around Ryoji’s neck and pull him down to press their lips together for the first time. Ryoji froze for a moment before clinging more tightly to Minato’s waist and pulling him as close as he could.

And the kiss was awkward, wet with their shared tears and neither knowing what exactly they were supposed to do, but that wasn’t the point of it. Minato just wanted to be as close to him as he could in that moment, even if he couldn’t rejoin their souls. So it was awkward and desperate and not really good but it made him feel a little better to know it wasn’t just him.

That they were still the same even broken apart as they were.

When they pulled apart Minato tucked his head against Ryoji’s neck and just breathed. Ryoji clung to him just as tightly as he matched their breaths and they stood there. Together.

It wasn’t fair, none of it was fair, but they both knew that. There was nothing they could do about it - time came for them all in the end and they couldn’t close their eyes and cover their ears to hide from it. All they could do was live as much as they could until the end.

Minato found himself being dragged down as Ryoji suddenly fell backwards, until they were both sprawled on the concrete staring up at the stars once more. Minato’s arm was used as Ryoji’s cushion and his head was tucked against his shoulder and it wasn’t the most comfortable position but he didn’t want to move.

They just laid there, Ryoji occasionally pointing up to draw his attention to a constellation he either remembered or made up, and it was the calmest Minato had felt in weeks.

Time ticked ever onward though, and eventually Ryoji sighed and turned to press his lips to Minato’s head and murmured, “It’s almost midnight. Once the Dark Hour hits, I can fly us back.” His lips pulled up into a small smirk. “Save you the exhaustion of walking anywhere.”

Minato had complained about long walks to places before, even in his head, and while he didn’t hate exercise he wasn’t particularly thrilled with it either. Any other time he’d have been relieved at the offer.

But right here and now, in this extended fragile moment between them, with time ticking ever forward against them, he wanted to draw this out a little longer. Pretend for as long as possible that it was just the two of them and they had infinite time ahead of them.

So he just shrugged and said, “I can walk.”

Ryoji’s raised brow almost immediately morphed into understanding - of course it did - and his expression softened into something warm and pained. “If you’re sure. If we get back during the Dark Hour maybe Mitsuru won’t lecture us too badly about sneaking out.”

“And who’s fault was that?”

“I’ll take responsibility!”

“Somehow I don’t think that will save us,” Minato sighed, reluctantly sitting up. “We should go then. It’s around an hour to walk back so we’ll be cutting it close even if we leave now.”

“Good point. If we get too close I’ll just fly us the rest of the way, though.” Ryoji stretched his arms over his head and hopped to his feet, offering a hand to Minato. He accepted it and was pulled easily to his feet - but stilled as Ryoji suddenly too the opportunity to lean down and press another soft kiss to his lips. It was short, only a lingering moment, but something about it made his throat tight again and he pressed their foreheads together.

They lingered for another minute before reluctantly parting and turning to walk back.

The Dark Hour hit somewhere along the way, but alone on the trails with no coffins or Shadows around it felt distant and unobtrusive. The minutes stretched long and comfortable between them just as Minato had hoped they would, until they finally reached the city and its many coffins again.

They did not manage to sneak back to their room without Mitsuru noticing, but for once she didn’t lecture them. Just gave them a knowing look and told them not to sneak off under the teachers’ supervision. She looked… tired.

But then, most of SEES did after the harrowing few weeks and many revelations and near-fatalities they’d had.

They both reminded each other to rest at the same moment, and Mitsuru laughed softly as her expression lightened. It made something ease in his own chest.

They made it back to their room without further incident - other than Junpei made an excessive show of scanning them up and down as though looking for signs of indecency which made Ryoji wink and laugh and Minato throw a pillow at him - before finally collapsing on a futon and passing out.

He distantly heard Junpei trying to tease them for sharing a futon, but Minato was already falling asleep and Ryoji was more than capable of keeping up with Junpei.

He didn’t see the big deal - they’d technically been sharing a futon or bed for years whenever Death manifested, and Ryoji had basically moved into his room in the dorms by this point. But those two seemed to have fun with it so… whatever.

Minato was just satisfied to have Ryoji’s warmth against him as he fell into sleep.

~ ᙙᙖ ~

Much shorter, and more bittersweet than outright angsty than the last one. And very obvious Ryomina rather than implied.

It is still pretty sad though, I know, but that’s unfortunately what happens when you take an angst writer and ask them to try and write fluff.

So it may be obvious by now, but the idea is that this is an everyone lives/no one (on our side) dies route. Ikutsuki, Takaya, and Jin still die, but Shinji (if you want to reference my other fic Numb that’s basically what happens in this route, except add in some flashbacks towards his cousin too), Chidori, and Mitsuru’s father survive because as soon as Minato wakes up with SEES on crosses and Aigis under control he and Thanatos flip out and Ikutsuki ends up with the controller destroyed and himself very very dead.

Evokers might help with Persona evocation, but they aren’t necessary when someone gets in an unstable enough mental state and also has an excessively powerful and autonomous Shadow-turned-Persona in their head. SEES gets a little scared but Thanatos has gone rogue before and never attacked them so…

It’s a whole ordeal but Ikutsuki is the only one that ends up dead, so win?

(The “no one dies” thing does apply to Minato and Ryoji too though so there’s a lot of existential angst here for something that’s not going to happen. Minato and Ryoji are going to pull a Yu and Marie, and Ryoji’s going to absorb Nyx while Minato connects to the Universe and helps him fundamentally change how the draw towards humanity’s death works. Ryoji’s an eventual inevitable heat death situation for humanity somewhere along the line, but that’s so far into the future it’s not even foreseeable so it’s fine.)

#ryominaweek2023 #ryomina #persona 3 #ryoji mochizuki #minato arisato #makoto yuuki #soft and sad is one of my favorite things to write #when you know you're on a clock slowly ticking down #the end clearly in sight #but you just want that clock to stop ticking #also they love each other #and minato is not used to having a full range of emotions after ten years hosting death so he's trying and failing to adjust to /that/ #this may be a happy ending au but the characters sure don't know that lol

[peterpparkrr]

Drowning in the Light (5/?)

Chapter 5: Hope

Series: Drowning in the Light

Summary: The reader has returned to the rebellion with newfound hope. 

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: We're back! I wrote the scene with the calligraphy set before I wrote the rest of this fic way back when that book about the costumes and props included it and everyone lost their minds lol.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader 

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

playlist for this series can be found here. you can also read this series on ao3.

“I have a job for you.”

The words hit you like a bantha to the chest. It was real. You were back. You’d tried to keep your distance. From this fight. It felt like too much. But now you had no other option. Kylo Ren and the First Order had made sure of that. 

And now they’d have to pay the price.

“But first, rest,” Leia tells you with a pointed look. “I’ll have someone show you to a room,” She says as she motions for someone to come over, telling them to find you an available room. 

“And get that cut on your leg checked out!” She adds as you start to walk away.

You pause and shoot Leia a glance over your shoulder. Shocked that she’d noticed what you’d considered a superficial injury.

“I’d notice your limp from a mile away,” She says when she sees your expression.

One of Leia’s aides walks you down a series of halls to a quiet part of the base away from the action and gives you a key fob that will give you access to the room. 

It’s small. But nice. A cot in one corner, a refresher in the other, and a small table in the middle of the room with rows of closed cupboards lining the wall. 

You manage to sit at the small table for about five minutes before you’re up again and wandering the corridors looking for the med bay. 

“Come to get that wound checked?” A medic with a tablet in her hands asks when you walk through the doors. 

“Oh, I’m actually here to check on a friend? Finn?” You ask as you glance down at your thigh a little self-consciously. You really didn’t think it was that bad, but everyone else seemed to notice it immediately, maybe it was the rip in your cargo pants that gave you away. Everyone else’s uniforms were perfectly in order.

“Ah,” She nods. “Well, you can do both.”

“Right, er,” You reply awkwardly.

The medic nods.

“I’ll show you where he is and then grab some materials to get you checked out.”

The medic brings you to the room where Finn is. He’s laying inside a glass pod, in some sort of body suit with tubes sprouting out of it and covering his whole body. 

“They’ll be able to wake him in a few days, but for now he has to stay in the coma so he can heal,” She tells you.

“So he’ll be okay?” You ask her.

You’ve known him for a few days. You’re basically strangers. But he nearly died trying to fight Ben. To protect you and Rey. And there’s just something about the pair that makes you feel a deeper connection to them. Like you’ve known them for years. 

Besides, it’s not like he has anyone else. 

And you know that feeling well. 

“Yes, he’s expected to make a full recovery,” She tells you with a small smile. “Can I take a look at that leg now?”

“Oh, yeah,” You reply as she gestures for you to take a seat in a chair nearby.

She brings over her own chair and you pull open the rip in your pants. The scar is already scabbed, that’s the joy of a lightsaber wound. It cauterizes itself. 

The medic gets to work on wrapping the wound quickly, dabbing on a salve after she’s cleaned it, and taping a bandage over it. She’s quick. Efficient. And has no interest in small talk, which you appreciate.

Just as she’s wrapping up you’re interrupted by Poe Dameron.

“Commander Dameron?” The medic says in surprise as she looks up at him. “I don’t see any broken bones,” She comments as she gives him a once-over.

“I’m here to see Finn,” He explains as he gestures to the pod that Finn is laying in.

“I’ll give the two of you some time with your friend,” The medic tells you once she finishes with the bandage, setting your foot back on the ground before leaving you and Poe Dameron alone.

“Hey,” He greets you.

“Paul,” You reply with a nod.

“It’s Poe,” He corrects you gently.

“I know,” You reply with an awkward chuckle. “Sorry, it’s just a thing I do sometimes. Cocky pilots usually need to be taken down a peg or two.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Poe asks as he glances over at Finn’s unconscious body.

“Yeah, I think so, the coma wass medically induced so he’ll heal faster, they said he’ll wake up in the next few days,” You tell him.

In all honesty, you’re surprised he’s here. He’s known Finn for fewer days than you have. A resistance pilot like Poe has met plenty of people, and had plenty of people help them out of scrapes. Usually, they’re not the type to visit those people in the medbay. Especially when they’re virtually strangers.

“Good,” Poe replies with a nod as he looks back at you. “That’s good.”

“He’s a fighter, I mean, you should have seen him, he just picked up the lightsaber and…” You trail off.

“Lightsaber?” Poe asks, his brows furrowing as he turns to look at you again.

“He and Rey, they fought Kylo Ren,” You tell him.

“I hadn’t heard.”

“I’ll give you some time alone with him,” You finally tell him. Poe doesn’t push you, asking more questions about what you said. Nor does he seem to mind the space.

“See you around,” He replies with a nod.

You offer him a small smile. 

“Poe,” You reply before heading out of the medbay. Thanking the medic on duty before heading back to your room.

The next morning you’re sitting in bed when you hear a knock at your door.

“(Y/L/N)?” The officer confirms when you open the door. You nod and they hold up a small pack. “The General wanted you to have this.” 

You take the bag from them silently and they disappear back down the hallway before you close your door again and inspect the backpack.

There’s no way.

You’d completely forgotten. In the rush to leave your old life behind when you’d run off with Han and Chewie, you’d left what meager belongings you still had here on the base. And it looks like someone had been tasked with dragging them out of storage for you now that you were back.

It was just a backpack. In which you’d hastily packed everything of yours that wasn’t destroyed in the fire at the temple. You hadn’t so much as thought about it since you’d left. Never having the chance to miss what you’d chosen to forget.

You opened the bag to find the necklace you’d placed on top of your belongings before deciding to follow Han Solo and run away from your problems. The small kyber crystal’s faint glow was hardly noticeable and the thin leather cord you’d attached to it made the whole necklace rather unassuming, yet it had been your most prized possession as a padawan. You’d been out with Luke, Ben, and several other padawans to retrieve crystals so you could construct your own lightsabers. You’d grabbed a small shard, too small to make a lightsaber with so that you could have a keepsake of what had been the most important day of your life. 

Now, without a second thought, you pulled the necklace over your head to lay against your chest under your shirt. If you were going to be part of this fight you were going to need every bit of positive energy you could scrap together. 

The backpack then held the clothes that you’d been wearing the night of the attack. The jedi robes were so central to your identity in that past life, and were unwashed, still bearing the marks of what you’d faced before you’d fled to safety. 

Beneath them was the prized possession you were both eager to find and dreading to have to reckon with. You held the cold, slick metal in your hand, it was a familiar sensation despite you being years out of practice. You hesitated before pressing the activation button as the familiar whoosh of your lightsaber greeted you. You swung your blade slowly and hesitantly to confirm you still knew how to hold it before quickly powering it down and placing it on your bed, atop the clothing. 

When you reached into the bag again, trying to remember what else you’d managed to salvage, you felt it. Your fingers grazed the edges of the wooden box you hadn’t remembered taking. 

Ben’s calligraphy set. You hardly remembered what had compelled you to pick up the discarded belongings as you had made your way toward your ship. But some part of you, in that moment, wanted something of Ben and so you’d taken it with you as you scrambled through the dwindling flames.

You held it in your hands, carefully examining it before setting it down beside your other belongings. You no longer had any desire to hold on to it. Not after what he’d done. What you’d seen him become.

The knock at your door jolted you out of your trip down memory lane. You quickly jumped up and opened it to reveal Poe Dameron standing on the other side. 

“The general wants to see you in the control room,” He told you.

You huffed slightly before nodding, you quickly grabbed your jacket off the back of your chair and pulled it on. You saw Poe looking curiously at the belongings strewn across your bed and you glanced at your bed, hesitating for a moment before grabbing the calligraphy set and making your way out of your room. 

As you shut the door to your quarters Poe turned to you curiously, “Unpacking?”

“No.” You replied harshly as the two of you walked down the hall side by side.

“Are you planning on taking notes at this meeting?” He asks.

You stare blankly at him before he nods down at the calligraphy set you’re clutching tightly to your stomach. You look straight ahead as you answer. “It’s not mine.”

“Whose is it? Because I don’t think anyone on this base even knows how to write-”

“-It was Ben Solo’s,” You tell him. He stares back at you with such a shocked expression that for a second you’re tempted to tell him that it was just a joke. But you have no reason to lie. Leia knows your history. And you won’t hide it from anyone else. Not anymore. 

Poe quickly recovers and with one last sidelong glance at you and then the box you’re holding, he finally shuts up. 

“General,” You greet Leia as you and Poe stride up to her.

Leia looks up from her hushed conversation with a Lieutenant. “Oh, good,” She says with a smile, “I trust that you still know how to fly an x-wing? I’d like to promote you to Captain.”

“Leia...I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You begin to protest. Taken aback by the blunt order.

“We both know you’re overqualified for that position, but I need you close,” Leia tells you gently. 

Of course, she does. You’re the loose thread tying her to her son, and now to Han. Both of whom she’s lost. 

And you should feel the same way. But it’s all a bit too much. 

You sigh before resigning yourself to your new reality. If you were going to stay, you needed to be useful. And after everything Leia has done for you over the years, you owe it to her to try and support her too.

“Okay,” You say after a moment. Your mouth pressed into a line as you granted her a nod. “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful, I’ll get the ground crew to assign you to a squadron and find you a good x-wing,” Leia replies. “Connix, can you take care of that?”

“Right away, General,” Connix, the lieutenant, replies with her own sharp nod before disappearing. 

“You’ll be flying under Commander Dameron,” She replies. 

Poe nods wordlessly. You don’t have time to read into his quietness. 

“Oh, before you go,” You add. “I-I found this with all the stuff I left here, I just thought I’d see if you’d want to keep it,” You tell her as you thrust the calligraphy set toward her.

Leia takes a moment, looking down at the box without saying anything.

“I can throw it out if you don’t! I just thought-” You quickly add at her hesitation.

“No,” Leia says gently, cutting off your ramblings. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

You nod and hand her the box wordlessly before dismissing yourself.

“Poe, walk with me,” She says.

Leia leads Poe away from the hustle and bustle before turning to face him.

“She…” Poe mutters. Shaking his head. When they’d first met he’d thought he knew her type. He’d known women like her. Rough and abrasive types from his work before he became a pilot. But every interaction since had just left him with questions. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“I’ve known (Y/N) since she was a child,” Leia tells Poe. “Her father was a representative in the new Senate with me. Their family is from Naboo. And then she went to study with my brother and son as a Jedi.”

“She was the only student who survived the massacre at my brother’s Jedi temple. She’d been traveling with Han for six years. Her parents were on Hosnian Prime working with the senate when the First Order destroyed the system.”

“She’s been through so much, and she just lost three of her parental figures in one day,” “She needs to fight. It’s her nature. But I need you to watch over her. There’s only so much loss a person can take before they… break.” 

“You mean... She’s a Jedi?” Poe asked in disbelief.

“She was,” Leia replied. A glint of something in her eyes as she glanced away from him for a moment. “But this war, it’s taken everything from her.” 

“Protect her, Poe,” She implored him. “I need your word that you’ll keep her safe.”

“I promise,” Poe replied with a nod. “I promise.”

#drowning in the light #drowning in the light series #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars series #star wars fanfic #star wars drabble #star wars reader insert #star wars x reader #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron fic