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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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kissing lessons

summary: you and robin have already shared several firsts as best friends: your first time holding hands, your first time cuddling someone, your first time flirting. so what's a little platonic kissing?

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: lots of sapphic pining, yearning, etc. assumed unrequited love. hopeless crushing. doing romantic things and claiming they're totally platonic when they very much are not. mentions of reading trying to conform to the 80s standards by dating a boy. reader is explicitly female (which should be given since robin is canonically a lesbian)

wc: 3.4k+

a/n: this one was a long time coming. it's based off of my own first kiss, loosely.

part 2

Being best friends with Robin Buckley has always been about growing – together.

Life has a plethora of lessons for young souls to learn in time, and some of those lessons were simply hard. The first time you picked up a musical instrument and attempted to play your very first note, and it sounded atrocious. Nothing like the movies, more difficult than you could have ever imagined. The first time you walked the halls of your high school, and the terrifying first wave of panic at the realization you’d need to learn the map of the lands in order to navigate that maze for the next four years. The first time you walked into a classroom all of two minutes late, and the first shatter of embarrassment in your chest as every eye in the room turned to you. The first time you trip over your own laces on your way to Chemistry, the first time you impulsively cut your hair with the kitchen scissors, the first time a boy asked you out as a joke, and the first time someone asked you out genuinely only to fumble over every single word. Your first school dance, your first time cooking pasta from scratch, your first time attending a concert without a chaperone.

Firsts, firsts, firsts. Life is simply full of them, and they never get any easier or kinder, but having a best friend at your side certainly makes it all bearable.

Robin Buckley was that rock for you. And you, for her.

It’s sort of how you got into this mess to begin with.

“It’s going to be weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s not going to be weird unless we make it weird, Robin.”

“How can I not make it weird? Where would my lips even go?”

You’re both lucky that no one is home to hear all the shrieking currently occurring in your small bedroom. Only the posters on your wall and your teddy bear you’ve had since you were five are witnesses to the current predicament occuring.

Robin had been the one to suggest it, in all fairness. Graduation was next week, and there had been a lot of reminiscing flying about. All the firsts, all the hopeful lasts, and all the fatal moments you needed to drag by the hair to the backyard and bury six feet under.

The topic of conversation had veered pretty erratically, turning left towards that one stubborn B left on Robin’s postcard as a result of her refusing to attend her assigned tutoring for Geometry last year, and then sliding right as you’d huffed about that one girl who had been an absolute menace towards you sophomore year when you’d botched your improv solo at a band concert. But in the last five minutes, it had finally straightened out – it had finally begun to follow the trail of a line of remembering that no one else would ever be allowed to know outside of you and Robin.

You’d brought up the first date you’d ever gone on. A ridiculous milkshake outing with some guy in your freshman English class that had left you feeling more confused than starry eyed or lovesick as the books promised.

The date that had caused Robin Buckley to offer to hold your hand at random, in private moments, the week leading up to it. Just so you’d know how it felt. Just so you could figure out how to best intertwine your fingers with someone else’s without feeling terrible foreign about it all.

It had been platonic. You both swore it had been, shrugging carelessly as you’d let your palm meet your best friends.

And you’d felt more every time your skin brushed hers than you had the entire night with that boy. Spent the entire date wishing it was Robin’s knuckles bumping yours when you’d reached for that damn strawberry milkshake.

“Against mine, I’d hope.”

The dissection hadn’t ended at the hand-holding. Next, the two of you had wistfully recalled the sleepover in which you’d first decided to learn how to spoon one another. Robin had read about it in a magazine, you’d never had firsthand experience, and it just felt right to suggest. Robin had rambled for a good five minutes before you’d tugged her back into her bed and commanded her to just lay there as you figured out where you arm should go as your body curved along the back of hers.

It had been nice. Really nice.

You’d never gone out on another date after the Great Milkshake Catastrophe, as the two of you had called it. Robin claimed none of the boys at school could handle her eccentricism. Both of you, young girls fumbling about the world, starving for touch completely unaware. You told yourselves everyone cuddled with their friends. You told yourselves it was normal.

But then, you’d switched positions, Robin being the big spoon as the teen magazine had described, and you swore your heart had burst when her arm wrapped around your waist and her fingers slotted between your own against your abdomen.

You’d fallen asleep in that position. Awoken to Robin’s face pressed right into your chest as you’d spread out on your back. Ignored the flaky drool stain left behind on your skin when she’d finally joined the living once more. Pretended like you both hadn’t had the best rest of your lives as you’d clung to one another through fading dreams and subtle snores.

It was normal, right? It had to be, because it was nice, and it had become a part of your normal sleepover rituals.

Friends used each other’s boobs as pillows all the time, as Robin had defended.

“Yeah, but, well-” Robin cuts off in her current stricken rambling, throwing her hands out around the air between you two, “What about when it’s more than just pecking? You know? All that gross shit, where tongues get involved and spit is exchanged and, oh God, should we be sucking on some mints right now or something? Oh my God, what if you’re allergic to my chapstic-”

Gross shit.

The not-so-clever code word the two of you used whenever describing any sort of romantic interactions. Kissing, making out, sex. The things all of your peers were regular experiencing, sometimes even displaying in public, that the two of you only turned your noses up to.

You didn’t want to suck the face off of Connor in your fifth period pottery class. The only person you could imagine on the receiving end of that that didn’t make your stomach turn was sitting right in front of you now, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she clearly panicked.

“I’m not allergic to passion fruit Lip Smackers, Robs.”

The switch to a passion fruit flavor was new. Robin had been using the strawberry flavor religiously prior, but had recently offered it to you with the excuse of your obsession with strawberry flavored things.

And now, you’d been using it daily. Trying not to think about how many times her lips had been on it prior to yours. Trying not to think about how many ways you could twist it into some sick secondary kissing metaphor, to have your lips slick with the same sticky substance as hers had been so many times before.

Tried not to think about what Robin Buckley’s lips tasted like, period. Easier said than done when the thought crosses your mind every time you lick your lips moment after application, getting the faux sweetness all over your tongue.

“You could be. And how would we even know? I can’t even drive! If you start to have an allergic reaction, I can’t even take you to the hospital! We don’t have a c-”

You can’t do it anymore – any other day, you relish in the sound of Robin’s voice as she’ll squeal on and on about everything and anything. But not today.

You cut her off with a kiss.

The very same kiss you’d both timidly agreed upon when you’d both realized graduation was next week, and neither of you had had your first kiss.

The same deal as the cuddling. The same deal as the hand-holding. The same deal as all the pick-up lines and flirting you’d try out on each other, the same deal as all the sweet ‘love notes’ you’d write for one another and slip into backpacks and binders alike.

The same deal as that fluttering in your chest every time she looked up at you at the local pool, eager to see if you’d witnessed her flip beneath the water. The same deal as all the nights you’d cried into your pillow after being pestered about if any boys at school caught your eyes, because you knew they hadn’t and they never would. Your eyes were already too busy, completely captured by the sight of the brunette now pressing her lips against yours.

None of the boys at school could ever compare.

Passion fruit and strawberry mingles within the short peck, freckled cheeks and nose smashing against yours in the most awkward fashion possible. It could be weird; it should be weird.

It’s not.

When you pull away, Robin is completely stunned into silence for quite possibly the first time in her life. And her lips are shining with some of your residual spit, and her cheeks are the perfect shade of rose that no actual flower could capture.

Mother Nature herself could never replicate the girl in front of you. The girl you’d been best friends with for six years now, the girl you’d pined relentlessly for for just as long.

Only you’d just recently realized it. Somewhere between the lip smackers exchange and the movie night in which you’d intertwined your legs on the couch and felt the weight of her between your hips as she’d passed out.

Looking at her now sort of feels like realizing it all over again. Sort of like looking out over a precipice, and taking a deep breath, because you know you’re leaping off the cliff. No scared looks over your shoulder, no hesitation as you throw your foot out into mid-air.

The kind of rush you’ve never felt with a boy, and never will.

“Was that…” she whispers, voice hoarse before she clears it, batting her gorgeous lashes and taking the shakiest of breaths, “Was that good?”

“I dunno,” you lie, “I think we should try again.”

It’s like a dance, you soon realize. Following her steps, guiding her with your own. She slides her way up closer, and you press your back against your headboard. Her hands are shaking when they brush your outer thighs, and your blood is racing as you tug on her elbows to guide her to straddle your lap.

You both had said, after all, you needed to learn to be better kissers. That you couldn’t leave high school without having shoved your tongue down someone’s throat at least once. Your words, not hers.

Your desperate attempt to make sure that someone was Robin Buckley. Your pitiful attempt to have the one thing you don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to hold.

The weight of her on your lap is nice. The feeling of her lips returning to yours is nice. The way neither of your hands know where to go as you let your lips linger together a few seconds longer than the first time is nice.

It’s far nicer than Connor from English could ever make you feel. It’s far nicer than that poor boy at the diner ever was, though he tried his best.

You’re the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’re the first one to let your palms settle at her hips, squeezing ever so gently to feel the softness beneath slot perfectly into your hold. You’re the first one to timidly include tongue, parting both your lips, trying to ignore the shivers running up your spine as all you can taste now is passion fruit lip smackers.

Even with your own lip balm, you know your lips are horribly chapped. Dreadfully thirsty and desperate to absorb all the love you know isn’t yours to claim at this moment. Chapped lips, quivering hands, shaking breaths. Unsure movements and the ringing question in the back of your head of am I doing this right?

Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But she’s kissing you back. Her tongue is meeting yours in movements that are nothing like the movies, shy baps that you both will probably laugh about later. Kitten licks to test the waters.

And then there’s the retreating. The rock of her body as she settles her weight closer to your knees, and her tongue is put away in favor of just letting her lips slot between yours in slow and lazy movements. You can feel every deep breath she takes through her nose between the kisses, you can smell her perfume seeping into your psyche every moment she spends so close to you.

The only lesson being learned right now is that you were an idiot. You were an absolute fool, and you are absolutely in love with your best friend.

“Better?” she questions when she pulls away entirely, and you try not to whimper. Try not to show her how badly you want this, need this.

You hate the silence and you nearly wish she’d start babbling again. You wish she’d give you a reason to kiss her and shut her up, if for nothing more than to taste passion fruit and yearning all over again.

You’re quiet for a few beats, staring at her as your chest heaves and your heart begins to twist up into terrible shapes. “I… Yeah. Yeah. I think we’re getting the hang of it, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” her nervous smile breaks, and you wish she wouldn’t continue the thought, but she does, “You’re gonna be a pro in no time, breaking boys hearts left and right when you kiss them like that.”

You don’t want to break a boy’s heart. You want to break hers – you want to entirely implode her heart the way she has yours, and have the honor to know it was mutual. A mutual destruction you both dove into headfirst. You only want to kiss Robin like this, forever. You only ever want to know how right her hand feels in yours, not some guy who can’t even choke out the right words to invite you to the cinema.

You want, and you want, and you want.

And just as you bite your tongue, decide against pouring out all your affections all over your bed sheets and pulling her right back into you again, desperate to share air with her and only her, you can hear your front door slamming over.

Robin has never moved so quickly in her life. Jumping off your lap, leaping to the edge of the bed as a feverish blush overtakes her entire body. As though she might be embarrassed, as though she might be regretful.

You still haven’t moved from your position, back sticky with sweat against the headboard, when your parents walk past your open door and say hello.

They probably don’t even hear your sad and quiet excuse of a returned greeting, too enraptured by Robin’s own excited quip of saying hi.

Your parents love her. Adore her in a way parents should care for their child’s closest confidant. They treat her like their own daughter, and Robin’s parents do the same for you. Once a month, your mothers meet up for mimosas over brunch and probably giggle about how lucky their girls are to have one another.

You get it. You love her too. But certainly not in the way you should love your best friend.

They finally leave, and Robin is quick to turn to you, eyes shining with all the stars and sunshine the Universe could have to offer, “That… um, thank you.”

“For what?” you laugh breathlessly, finally shifting forward, looking down at your thighs that had served as a temporary home to the girl who holds your heart, trying to swallow down any shame and all that rapid longing.

“For… you know,” she smiles, a secret for the two of you to only ever keep, never sharing with the world. Selfishly, you almost enjoy the sentiment, “I’m sorry I was acting so weird about it before. You were right, it didn’t have to be weird unless we made it weird. I’m lucky to have you as my best friend, you know? And like I said, if you’re…. You know, doing that with boys, you’re going to be a certified heartbreaker. The world isn’t ready for my best friend. Besides! Another thing checked off the list, right?” she pauses, and you swear the smile has gone sad, but you can’t risk the projection, “Now we can both say we’ve done… that… before graduation! And-”

You speak before you can think better of it, interrupting her entirely, “I think I need more practice.”

She stops in her tracks, eyebrows raising wildly and eyes turning to saucers, “What?”

“I think…” your head reels, desperate to come up with an excuse to kiss her again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. “I think I need more lessons, yeah? Like, I don’t know. More practice,” Oxygen evades you in desperation, giving your best puppy dog eyes, system in overdrive as you stare at her lips and your voice drops to a careful whisper, “My parents are out of town next weekend… Maybe we could try again then? Same time?”

You swear her smile shifts, and you hadn’t even noticed the ingenuity in it previously until she dazzles you with one that must be real. As if you’ve just made her year, lightened her load, offered over your first born to the darling girl.

“Well….” she moves her eyes across the room, focusing on a polaroid photo of the two of you pinned to the wall above the desk, “I mean, we did say lessons, plural. I can see if Steve will cover my shift on Saturday night if that works?”

Am I doing this right?

“That definitely works.”

Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

“Perfect. It’s a…. date, then.”

“It’s a date.”

It’s not. Only to you, never to her.

But it’ll be enough. It’s enough to know next Saturday, she’ll be back here, in your bed and in your lap, getting that passion fruit chapstick all over your lips and shaking your chest from the inside out until it’s ready to burst.

One day, you might be the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’ll tell your best friend all the ways she feels so nice, and all the ways you want to capture that niceness in a bottle for the rest of your days. You’ll tell her the way you have no interest in the boys at school and how you’re cursed to forever be the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker, and only ever at her hand. The very same one clasping yours as she stands at your front door, thanking you vaguely once more, grinning ear to ear as she gives you three tight squeezes that are completely lost on you.

Today’s not the day, though. Today is the day where you spend the night in your self-made cage, face buried in the pillow, noises somewhere between desperately muffled screams of frustration and dry sobs of torture leaving your lips as you picture the way she’d looked after the kiss. Her eyes softly shut, her lips still puckered, her neck entirely exposed as she tilts her chin back to look at your ceiling through her eyelids. Picturing the way that next time, you’ll try to convince her the two of you should learn the art of neck kisses. Picturing the way that next time, maybe you’ll grab her hips a little harder or let your hands wander a bit farther to her thighs.

Tonight is the night you have no idea amongst your pity party, that Robin Buckley is on the other side of town, experiencing the exact same turmoil as she longs for the girl who tastes like her gifted strawberry lip smackers – the very same one Steve Harrington berated on her to get rid of when she’d vomited out all the ways she hates fake strawberry flavoring, but you love it, and she’d convinced herself if she bathed herself in enough of it, you might just want her the way she wants you.

Tonight’s not the night, though.

One day, the kissing lessons will simply be kisses. One day.

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girlygguk · 1 year

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denial - jjk (18+)

➵ summary; it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's mad.

➵ pairing ; idol!jk x (f)actress!reader

➵ word count ; 5.3k

➵ rating ; 18+ minors dni

➵ content ; jealous (& possessive 🫣) asffff kook, mutual no strings agreement / fwb au, older (just a lil) reader, taehyung sister reader, secret-ish situashionship, smut/fluff-ish/angst-ish, this is FILTHYY i even shocked myself.

➵ warnings ; teasing, swearing, kissing, fingering, spitting, nipple play, dom!jk, oral sex (f rec.), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it UP. don't be silly), sexy stuff starts a lil later on in the story so basically pwp.

a/n ; while i'm working on the next chap of my fic i come bearing a gift! this is a oneshot but if y'all enjoy it i have a bunch of ideas for this pairing i could work on and maybe make an additional part! thanks sm for reading, hope u enjoy <3 also this is my first time writing smut, so any feedback is insanely appreciated and encouraged! mwah

Jungkook's room was quiet, the only noise being his soft humming as his thumb dragged down the expanse of his phone screen, scrolling mindlessly through his private Instagram feed. He's already passed a few of his bandmates' photo dumps, leaving a like on a few and a teasing, sarcastic comment on the others. But, then, smirking at his remarks that he finds absolutely priceless, his thumb grinds to a halt as he comes across your latest post.

There you are, in all of your glory. You're posing prettily with an overfilled cup of ice cream from a popular parlour in Seoul Central. A spoon rests against your lips; eyes closed gingerly for the snap. The side of Jungkook's mouth pulls upwards before he can stop it, a soft, dazed smile coating his lips as he stares at you for longer than he'd like to admit. However, the daze ends as abruptly as it began when his focus shifts to the person seated on your left. He recognizes the guy sitting next to you as the leading male in your latest drama, Jae something.

A hot, uncomfortable feeling bubbles in the pit of Jungkook's stomach as he stares at the classically attractive male in your photo. The feeling intensifies tenfold when he notices the spoon clasped in Jae something's hand, and his eyes search every pixel on his phone screen, begging to find this dirtbag's own cup of ice cream. Finally, he scoffs after scouting every inch of your photo for the third time. So you're really sharing a cup of ice cream with this guy? And it's not even for work. And you posted a picture of it on your Instagram. Your public Instagram.

Jealousy claws at Jungkook's throat with vigour, and he has to lock his phone and put it next to him on his bed before he stands up and hurls it at the wall. Of course, he knows he shouldn't and has no right to be jealous. But he can't help it. He can't control his actions and feelings when it comes to you. He's been infatuated since day one, and though you both have the mutual no-strings agreement as your blooming careers don't allow you the time or freedom to commit to something like that right now, he can't help but feel fucking sick looking at the photo of you and someone else.

The stadium is boisterous; fans hastily rush to get to their seats in the various sections surrounding the stage as if the concert would start without them. You were currently on your way backstage to visit your brother before the show began. After five minutes of weaving around equipment and dodging the stressed crew rushing around doing last-minute preparations, you finally arrived at your destination.

Knocking thrice on the dressing room door, a muffled "Come in!" has you twisting the handle and walking through the threshold with a cheesy grin. The seven men—six of which you've become good friends with since your brother introduced you—come into view as you enter the room, each of them beaming a mixture of greetings.

"Happy first show!" You exclaim as you walk towards your brother with a bouquet of mixed flowers. Taehyung takes the gift from you with a smile before placing a kiss on your forehead as thanks.

Jungkook's eyes haven't left you since you stepped foot in their dressing room. He swallows harshly, hoping to rehydrate his mouth as all his saliva has apparently decided to dissipate. Jungkook takes in your outfit, the short Chanel dress hugging the curves of your body and showcasing your smooth, slender legs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he suppresses his smirk when he sees the long-sleeved white undertop you're wearing. Images of you withering beneath him as he marked the top of your breasts a few nights ago flash through his mind, and he has to blink a few times in an attempt to return back to Earth.

Your gaze meets Jungkook's for a split second, watching him drink in your figure before you look back at the rest of the guys with a smile. Then, stepping back to your original position after breaking from the hug with your brother, your arms motion towards the man that you dragged in with you. "This is my friend, Jae Lee."

That's enough to crash Jungkook back down to Earth as his focus shifts to the tall brunette on your right. Jae Lee offers a quick bow with a smile as the rest of BTS chorus a polite greeting in return. "Nice to meet you guys; I'm a big fan." His voice is deep and rugged, just like it is in the drama he starred in with you. The drama that Jungkook binged in one sitting on release day, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Likewise," Tae returns with a nod and his signature toothy grin before setting the flowers on the tabletop by one of the mirrors, "we're on in ten—do you know where your seats are?"

You nod at your younger brother's question, patting the pocket of Jae's faded jeans, "Jae's got our passes; we'll go there now and let you guys finish getting ready."

Jungkook is fucking fuming at this point as he watches the interaction, tongue pushing against his lower teeth to stop himself from spewing something that would embarrass the both of you.

You bid them one final good luck before spinning on your heel and exiting the room, a cloud of your sweet perfume trains behind you in your departure, invading Jungkook's senses and rendering him dazed as Jae follows you closely, shutting the door gently behind him.

"God, you guys were insane." You arrived back at your brother's apartment (that he shared with Jungkook) a few minutes ago, the three of you piling through the door as you beelined straight for the couch. "Hoseok has the stamina of a horse, I swear. I'm always shocked whenever I watch you guys perform."

Taehyung laughs from behind you as he shrugs off his jacket before jumping over the back of the couch and landing next to you with a huff. His best friend opts for a different route after ridding himself of his coat, walking into the kitchen to grab a drink of water and hopefully clear his head a bit.

It's bad enough that he had a foggy grey cloud glooming in the back of his mind during the concert, but then he had to sit in an enclosed vehicle with you and your brother on the way home because Tae wanted to spend more time with you. Of course, Jungkook doesn't blame his friend; you have a week off before your next shoot, and you're headed to Gwacheon in a couple of days to get settled in. Usually, you and Jungkook would be utilizing this time off in a very different way, but unbeknownst to you, Jungkook is not in the mood right now. And he's always in the mood.

The bottle of water is downed in seconds, and the crunch of the now-empty plastic bottle in his hand pulls him out of his thoughts. Stepping on the pedal of the garbage can, he disposes of the rubbish and listens to the sound of soft padded footsteps entering the kitchen.

"You needa put that in the recycling bin."

Your teasing is gentle as you approach the ink-covered man, brushing past him lightly as you lean against the island opposite him. His lips pull into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and your eyebrows furrow, leg lifting slightly to nudge him with your sock-covered foot.

"What's wrong, grumpy?" You poke, watching as he shakes his head before pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen. Your hand reaches out for him a liiiitle too quickly before he can slink away, "Kook? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, ____. I'm good. Exhausted from the show, that's all." He removes his hand gently from your grasp before continuing his departure and leaving you in the kitchen by yourself. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you head back to the living room, not surprised when your brother is the only one there.

"I'm going to go and pick up the pizza; they shut in 20, and delivery's off for the night," Taehyung informs you as he chucks his jacket back on, "Kook's headed to bed, so we'll just save him some."

You nod at him before falling back onto the couch and reaching for the TV remote. "Drive safe," you call, and he assures you he will, the sound of the apartment door shutting behind him echoing in your ears. That's all you need to hear before you carelessly throw the remote aside and scramble off the couch towards a certain grumpy cat's bedroom.

"Koo?" Your tone is soft, one hand on the door handle of his room, the other rapping gently at the wood.

His low hum from the other side reaches your ears, and you twist the handle, stepping inside quietly before closing the door and leaning against it. You're not entirely sure how to approach this situation. Most of your interactions with the gorgeous man sitting at the edge of his bed with a somber look have had quite a different vibe. Extremely fucking different.

"Tae's gone to pick up dinner, " you try, "I'd say like twenty minutes or so."

He sighs and nods at your obvious hinting, lifting his gaze from the ground and watching as you saunter towards him. The little black dress he first saw earlier today still has him rattled, and your scent getting more robust with each step you take enhances his stupor. You lift one of your legs over his thigh when you reach him, the bottom of your dress riding up as you settle in his lap.

Shoving his dreary subconscious to the side, Jungkook leans forward into you before burying his face into your clothed stomach and inhaling as deeply as he can. Your stupifying, sweet, familiar scent invades his nostrils, and he knows he can always count on that to distract himself. You run your hands through his hair with a mewl as his head rises at an achingly slow pace before it's level with yours.

His eyes are hooded as he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his own, and you drink in the soft moan that escapes him when your fingers clutch his hair tighter in your grasp. His mouth is sinful, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth to connect with your own. Instead of your usual teasing fight for dominance, you let Jungkook take control of the kiss, hoping it will soothe the unease you've noticed in his demeanour as of late.

His hands are gliding over your hips, fingers squeezing at the meat of your middle, and you can't help but purr at the feeling, almost as if he's trying to grab as much of your body in his hands as he can. Suddenly the reminder that your brother would be home at any moment returned to your mind, and you reluctantly broke the connection. Climbing off his lap, your feet shakily meet the floor, and your hands reach for the hem of your dress, ready to slip it over your head before you notice the look on his face. He's fighting another internal battle, and it makes you release the fabric in your hands, your dress falling back into place.

"Please tell me what's wrong, Kookie." You mumble, standing in front of him with your hands slumped to your side in defeat. He blows out a quiet breath, shaking his head for what feels like the fifth time tonight before he reaches out for you. Finally, you give in with a deflated sigh, letting him pull you close towards him before he continues your previous actions and clutches the hem of your dress. Dragging the fabric up slowly, he lets it ride just above your stomach before he uses one hand to slip your panties down your legs.

Your eyes flutter shut as the finger hooked into the waistband of your underwear drags across your inner thigh on its journey downwards, his other hand still full of your dress, the thumb on said hand rubbing soft circles against your skin. "Are you together?"

Your eyes snap open at his question, still in a hazy fog from his touches but coherent enough to make out the undertone of his question. His hand doesn't falter in the slightest, your panties hitting the ground with a soft thud, and he drags his hand back up the underside of your thigh when they fall. "No."

So you knew who he was talking about, he thought. "Hm," is all he mutters, the hand on your hamstring bending you at the knee and pulling you abruptly onto his lap. You swallow a yelp as he guides you back over him, unable to help the motion of your hips grinding down when you feel him through his sweatpants.

The feeling that brews inside you when your now bare heat brushes against the fabric of his pants is euphoric, the small wet patch you leave behind being first-hand proof. "10 minutes," you remind in a whisper, leaning forward to attach your lips again, needing additional contact with him more than your next breath.

Jungkook ends the kiss quickly, and it has you pouting when he pulls away. He reaches between you, shoving his sweats and underwear down in one motion, his erection jutting out on demand and hitting his stomach once free. He leans back a little but doesn't allow himself to lie down entirely, and you usher him backwards before his grip on your waist tightens, and you stop your action. You look at him in confusion, his intoxicating chocolate brown eyes lifting from where you're seated to meet your gaze. "Sit on it."

Your breath catches in your throat at his demand, but you follow it nonetheless, his readjustment allowing you to plant your knees on the bed and lean forward slightly. You look down for a split second to grasp at his hardened length resting against his stomach and guide it to where you need it most. You look up before letting it enter you, your eyes flickering over his face and realizing he's already staring at you. He doesn't say anything verbally, but his features give everything away without the need to.

Jungkook leans forward, his hands sliding around your stomach before they reach your back. The flats of his palms cover almost the entirety of your back as his head falls into the crook of your neck. He places a single restrained kiss on your sweet spot, his lips finding it easily as they've visited the area hundreds of times. "Baby," he mutters into your neck, "sit."

And you do.

You finish lining up the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole before letting go and fully sinking onto him. The mangled breath that he chokes into the crook of your neck paints a devilish smirk on your lips, waiting until you feel his entire length submerge into you before lifting up and slamming back down, harder.

His breathing is heavy as his hands slide down your back before resting on your ass and grabbing a gluttonous handful when you rise. A strangled moan escapes your lips as he squeezes, spreading your cheeks and listening to the elicit sound of your walls sucking him in. You throw your head back in ecstasy, your clit throbbing every time it comes in contact with his balls, the feeling igniting a fire in your belly, arousal coursing through every cell in your body.

"Fucking. Hell," Jungkook curses; his eyes are slits as he glances down at his lap, watching your centre swallow him whole and mercilessly. He lifts one of his hands to his mouth, tongue swirling around his thumb before it presses against your clit, rubbing against it expertly and causing you to spew another strangled moan. "That's it, baby," his tone is low and filthy, and your hands grab onto his shoulders to balance yourself as the pleasure is getting too much.

His torture on your clit doesn't stop, not even when your hips stutter momentarily, the abuse to your cunt pulling at the rubber band holding you together harder and harder with each passing moment. "Stop playing with my clit," you cry, "or I'll fucking cum."

You almost regret opening your mouth because his hand pulls back instantly, and a soft whine leaves you at the loss of contact. You don't think twice before lifting your hips again, about to resume your action of riding him, when all of a sudden, he lifts you slightly, flipping you around until your back hits the mattress. "Wha—" your excuse of a question is cut off abruptly when he kneels down and drags you closer to the edge of the bed, mouth attaching to your clit with vigour.

"Fuck. Fuck." Is all you can mutter, your hands automatically going to his head, fingers threading through his hair and tugging when his tongue hits that part of your cunt that blurs your vision. Jungkook is lost in it, his tongue wrapping around your clit, relishing in the moans spilling from you. Lifting his head slightly, he gathers the saliva in his mouth before he spits on your pussy and dives back in. "What the fuck," you scream as he devours you like he's on death row and your cunt is his last meal, "Gguk—"

"I know, baby," he nods after pulling away for a split second, "just let go." He punctuates his words by sliding a finger, and then two, into your hole, and that's the knot in the fucking noose. His fingers are relentless, pushing all the way into you until they reach that spongey part before sliding out and repeating the same torturous routine. He knows you're close; he knows everything about you at this point. He's proven right when he feels your walls clench around his fingers and shoves his face deeper into your heat in response. His nose is buried in your cunt, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit feverishly, and you lose it. Your moans are silent, your throat not having the power to produce noise anymore as your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Baby," you manage, "I'm fucking cumming."

Jungkook moans into your pussy; its vibration is the tipping point as your vision blurs, flashing white as your orgasm washes over you. Your knees shake, closing around his head as he doesn't relent, your body convulsing and grinding into his mouth as he works you through your orgasm.

Your head is slumped against the pillow as you crash back down to Earth, Jungkook eventually pulling away from your core as you shudder, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh as he detaches from you. Pulling himself up, he makes his way onto the bed, lowering his strong body over you. He's hungry on his journey upwards, lips dragging against every inch of your skin, his tongue dipping out to wet them when the skin of your leg absorbs their moisture. He explores your stomach, his bunny teeth grazing against your belly button as he gets higher. It looks like he's where he wants to be when he's levelled with your chest. He pulls at the dress that you're honestly still surprised that he's left on you for this long before he lifts it over your head, chucking it to the side without another thought. A grunt leaves his lips when the white long-sleeve you had on under your dress is still there, and he rids it the same, just with more furrowed brows.

A giggle leaves your lips at his frustration before it's replaced with a content sigh as he latches onto your left nipple. Your hand runs through his dishevelled hair; lip caught between your teeth as his tongue wraps around the bud, his teeth grazing at it softly. "T-Taehyung will be back soon," you warn through a moan, "need you inside of me."

A string of spittle drags from your nipple and his mouth as he pulls back, his head tilting slightly as his gaze catches yours. "Still needy," he hums, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before lifting his hips and grabbing hold of his hardened length. He drags it between your wet folds, the sound of your slickened cunt music to his ears. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasm, but the need to feel him inside you outweighs the overstimulation.

"Beg for it." He says simply, the length of his shaft still firmly in his hand as he drags it through your sticky folds. Your eyes snap open, eyebrows ruffled in astonishment as you stare at the cocky piece of shift above you.

"Jun—" you start, "beg for it." He finishes, his focus lifting from where you're almost conjoined to your face. His face is hard, and you know better than to fight him on this. Your breaths come out shortly; his tone should not be turning you on this much.

"Please." You mewl, your chest heaving once as he presses his cock deeper into folds, not quite yet at the hole you need him to fill. "Please, Jungkook. Fuck me. Fuck me. Ruin me." You spit, losing all sense of self-worth as the heaviness of his lower body against you turns you into a pathetic mess.

His smirk is taunting. It's the last thing you see before your eyes roll back to the back of your head, a disgustingly loud moan booming from your throat as he thrusts into you with one motion. A strangled gasp blows from your lips as he pulls out before slamming back into you twice as hard. Sweat is gathering at the base of his brows, a moan of his own chorusing with yours as he slams his cock deeper with each thrust. You're at a loss for words as the pleasure intensifies, the coil in your stomach bubbling ferociously for the second time tonight. "Does he fuck you this good?" He can't stop himself, the words spluttering from his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

He's leaning a little further back now, his hand pressing against your belly slightly, feeling the motion of his cock sliding into you through your fucking skin. How he expects you to respond right now is beyond you, the only noise you can possibly muster being a high-pitched screech as his pace increases. "Huh?" He spits, spreading your legs wider, lowering slightly to delve his cock deeper into your cunt.

"No." It comes out as a mixture of a gasp and a moan, "Nobody fucks me like you do." A stupid wave of relief rushes over him as he hears you speak, the sound of your squelching walls suctioning him in parading through the room. Your assurance ignites something inside him, and you're surprised you can keep your eyes open long enough to see the transformation. He secures one of your legs around his waist, his hand holding your other open as he plants one of his knees firmly on the bed. He stares at your pussy in awe, watching your clit glisten with slickness before spitting harshly at it; his thumb reaching down to spread it over you. A choked sob leaves your lips at the action before an even louder scream cuts it off; you don't even recognize your own voice.

Jungkook is ravenous. His hips are pulling back at record speed, every inch of his cock sliding out of you until just the tip remains before slamming back inside brutally. "Oh my fucking god, Jungkook!" You screech as he hits that spot deep inside you on every thrust like he's been training for this his whole life.

"You fucking love it, don't you? This what you wanted?" He spits as his cock splits you in two, "You know I hate seeing people touch what's mine. Knew I'd fucking lose it."

"He never touched me. Wouldn't let him." You choke, your back lifting slightly as you feel him push in just that much deeper at your words, "I'm fucking yours, idiot."

Jungkook's hips stutter as your words catch him off guard, cracking his cocky persona for a millisecond before he recovers and grips the meat of your thighs even harder and drills back into you. You're fucking dripping at this point, and Jungkook groans at the feeling. His cock drags the juices out of your hole, and he watches as it slides down your ass, filthily pooling at the sheets beneath you.

You can't do anything but reach your hands out, and he understands immediately, releasing the hold on your legs before leaning down and falling into your arms. Your hands are on the back of his neck as you pull him closer, needing to feel his full weight on top of you in hopes of it taking some of the pressure off your abused cunt. He doesn't stop, even when his face falls to the side of your neck, plastering soft, wet kisses to your skin and pulling a soft moan from you.

Tears are welling in your eyes as he continues snapping his hips into you; the new position you're in means he's permanently in contact with your clit, and it's brutal. The room begins to spin as the familiar feeling coils in your stomach harder than you think it ever has. "I'm so fucking close," he heaves into your neck, and all you can respond with is a nod, the tears that pool at your waterline threatening to spill.

Your hands fall from his hair to his back, fingernails digging into his smooth skin as you try to cling to the last string of coherence you have, "cum in me, Gguk. Fill me up. Fill me." You moan, fingernails dragging down his back just how he likes it, and that's his fucking end. A low growl leaves his lips, goosebumps flooding your arms at the noise.

"Fuck." He curses loudly, hips pulling back in one final shaky thrust before he pushes all the way, your walls clenching tightly around him as he convulses, his release spilling from him and painting the walls of your cunt. He moans tenderly as you milk his cock, trying to pull every last drop of his orgasm from him.

Ten seconds or so pass while you both catch your breath, and you smile giddily beneath him; his heavy body feels comforting on top of you, like your own weighted blanket. You're ready to roll off the bed once he recovers, your hand drawing lazy circles across the expanse of his back before you hear him let out a deep, heaved breath. Lifting his hips back up, he ruts gently, resuming his movement inside of you. Your eyebrows furrow in shock, ignoring the burning feeling that immediately resurfaces as he shifts, "No, Jungkook, you don't have to—" He cuts you off with a kiss, hand reaching up to caress your cheek in a much softer manner than the majority of your night.

"When have I ever not let you cum?" He muses after breaking the kiss, his thumb slipping from the edge of your jaw to press against your lips. Your heart is beating at the fucking sweetheart above you, your lips parting slightly to take in the finger of his inked, calloused hand into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, gathering as much spit onto it as you can, just as he taught you, before using your tongue to push it out of your mouth. He smirks at the action, shaking his head as a train of saliva runs from his hand to your mouth. "Fucking filthy," Jungkook hums, his hand falling between you and connecting to your clit before the spit falls off his thumb.

Not that he needed the extra moisture, because you are fucking soaked, he flicks at your nub gently, satisfied as you shudder slightly at the contact. His overstimulated cock pulses inside you, the heat of your pussy making him release a strained breath before he pulls back out and begins to fuck you again. You can't even be shocked at his stamina at this point, many nights before having proven that he is fucking insatiable, pulling four of five orgasms out of you before turning in.

It doesn't take long before you're teetering on the edge of bliss again; the crude sounds of Jungkook's cum inside you, squelching around his cock as he slides in and out of you, are fucking erotic, arousing you even further. "Listen to thattttt," he groans at the noise, his overstimulation long forgotten as he gets lost in you again.

"Oh," you cry at his nasty words, "my shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!" You can't even form a sensible sentence, the pleasure becoming too much. Your back lifts off the bed slightly as Jungkook's hand follows your cunt when it tries to cower away. "God! Please!" You wail as his hand slips, the juices coming out of you causing his hand to slide around messily. He chuckles at the absolutely filthy sight; it's the best thing he's ever fucking seen.

"Good fucking girl. My gooood. Fucking. Girl." He praises as you grip his bedsheets in anguish, your body shaking, breath stuck in your throat as your head lifts toward the ceiling. Your mouth drops open as the band breaks, the tears that were sitting idle beneath your lashes finally spilling out, a loud sob spewing through your lips as you cum. Your orgasm is intense, ears ringing as Jungkook drags it out as much as he possibly can before you're shrivelling away, falling back into his mattress in exhaustion.

You groan lowly as Jungkook slowly pulls himself out of you, grabbing the shirt he discarded halfway through your activity off the floor and using it to capture the liquid that drools out of you. You giggle at the sight, swatting him with your foot as he wipes, "That's disgusting," you cry at his use of a dirty t-shirt to clean you up.

"It's clean! I chucked it on just before you came in," he assures with a smirk, continuing his action and ignoring the eye-roll you throw him. Then, suddenly, your eyes widen, and you all but scramble off his bed, diving for your clothes on the ground before shoving them over your head. He laughs softly at your haste before pulling his own sweatpants back on, minus the underwear. He's about to head to the shower, an invitation to you dangling on the tip of his tongue as he watches you fix your hair and makeup in his mirror. He watches in amusement as you manage to tame your hair but fail to fix the smudged eyeliner at the root of your waterline, giving up with a huff and looking over to him with a teasing glare, "This is your fault."

His shoulders rise slightly, and his mouth is pulled into a faux pout when you deliver a soft smack to his arm, making your way to his bedroom door. He turns to finally head into his ensuite and shower before your strangled gasp meets his ears. He spins around quickly, confusion coating his features before his eyes trail to what you're fixated on.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, AirPods in his ears as he munches on a slice of pizza. Your brother looks up when he feels your presence and nods in greeting. Then, fishing one of the earbuds from his ear, he waves the piece of the pie in his hand toward you. You're frozen in your spot, every word in your vocabulary flying out of your head as you're rendered speechless. Your brother pauses the show on his phone before swallowing his mouthful, "Pizza's here."

part two out now💗: click here

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #bangtan #jungkook fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook bts #bts jungkook #smut

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delta-orionis · 6 months

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How Big are Iterators?

One thing Rain World does very well is portraying a sense of scale when it comes to iterators. They're massive superstructures large enough to have entire cities built on their roofs, and their processes are literally so powerful that they alter the natural environment around them.

I think in-game they're kind of meant to be unknowably huge, especially since the player character is literally a small animal who can't possibly fathom an iterator's entire extent. Despite this, I decided to try and figure out exactly how big they are.

Just a warning, this post is a bit long. I really fell down a rabbit hole here.

In-Game Clues

Five Pebbles and Looks to the Moon are the only iterators that the player can explore, but they're so huge that it's impossible to see exactly how big they are from so close. The only glimpse we get is from atop the big tree in Outer Expanse, where Five Pebbles' superstructure can be seen in the distance.

He's so big that his entire can doesn't even fit on the screen.

(Ditto, minus the clouds)

With nothing else close by to compare him to, it's almost impossible to tell exactly how big he is from this image.

However, we can see the entirety of other iterator cans in the distance from atop The Wall.

Here's what they look like not obscured by clouds:

The Speculation Zone

I made some assumptions about iterators to make my calculations easier.

An iterator's can (the large rectangular section) is 2 times as wide as it is tall.

Their legs are 1/2 the height of their can.

Their can is half obscured by a relatively uniform cloud layer.

These assumptions might not be entirely accurate, but they make the math easier.

Cloud Layer Height

At first I was tempted to try and estimate iterator height based on the cloud layer surrounding them, but I made the mistake of assuming the cloud layer is made up of rain-bearing nimbostratus clouds (which can reach up to 5km in height). This would make them literally taller than Mt. Everest. Iterators are big, but I don't think they're that big. I think it's safer to assume that the cloud layer is made up of low-lying stratus clouds that form a thick fog.

The way iterator rain functions could be an entirely different discussion, but I personally think it's caused by a sudden expulsion of large quantities of hot water vapor which very quickly condenses into rain clouds. A topic for another time, maybe. The takeaway is that I think the weather created by iterators doesn't have a clear analogue to real life weather, and it's misguided to assume that they function the same way.

Skyscraper Height

One thing that iterators have that can be compared to real life, however, is cities.

The largest buildings in these cities can be seen at a distance.

This in-game iterator sprite is 122 pixels tall, and the tallest building visible is 20 pixels tall. This means the top of this iterator's can is 5.6 times as tall as the tallest building on its roof.

We can compare these skyscrapers to the largest buildings on Earth. This requires some additional assumptions:

While the civilization that built the iterators is likely able to create skyscrapers much taller than the ones humans have created, I'm going to assume that the ones visible here are comparable in size.

I'm also going to assume that these skyscrapers are residential buildings, built to fit a high population density on top of an iterator. The tallest buildings on Earth tend to have very tall antenna spires which add to their overall height but are not inhabitable. Residential skyscrapers tend to be significantly shorter, so I'm going to use them as a comparison rather than the tallest skyscrapers on Earth in general.

According to Wikipedia, the current tallest residential skyscrapers range from about 300 meters to 475 meters tall. I'm going to assume the one in-game is 400 meters tall, as a nice even number.

5.6(400m) = 2240m

This would make an iterator's height, from ground level to the top of their can, about 2240 meters (2.24 kilometers, 1.4 miles).

Here's a diagram comparing that to the heights of some of the tallest free-standing manmade structures:

And here's a size comparison between a typical iterator can and Mount Everest:

Smaller than a mountain, but still huge.

Conclusions

Based on these estimates, I think typical iterator cans are about 2 kilometers (1.24 miles) in height.

This would make iterators significantly taller than anything created by humans, but I personally think an advanced society like the one that created the iterators would have no problem creating a structure this tall. (They canonically created thousands of iterators, after all.)

This estimate is also much shorter than my misguided original calculation, which made them taller than an entire mountain. While I do think iterators are meant to be unfathomably huge, I don't think there would be enough material on the planet to feasibly create thousands of identical mountain-sized superstructures. The player is also able to ascend from the ground to the top of Five Pebbles in just a few cycles (if they're quick), and I think it's much more feasible for an animal like a slugcat to be able to ascend a height of ~2km in a couple of days than to climb up an entire mountain. But again, this is pure speculation.

I made a ton of assumptions and rounded a bunch of numbers, so I could be completely wrong. There's probably other ways you could try to estimate an iterator's height that I haven't explored here. Let me know what you think; I love hearing about other people's ideas and theories.

Thank you for reading!

#rain world #rain world iterator #rw iterator #rain world theory #iterators #delta's lore corner

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morphodae · 5 months

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Gregory Violet |Headcanons

Including general, relationship (x reader), and some modern au as a bonus!

These headcanons kind of trickle down into a story/narrative so please bear with it lol (plus: these are to warm up! I have ideas for future oneshots)

cw: none

Read more P4 headcanons here: 🦉x ,🌹 x ,🌱 x

General:

I see Gregory coming from a well-off family. They might not have the highest rank out there (they’re probably a viscount or baron nobility rank), but they have enough to send Gregory to Weston.

Either Gregory is an only child, eldest, or youngest. I have a feeling that he may not be super close with his family; perhaps he comes from a blended family or doesn’t have many siblings.

Naturally, his talents sent him to Weston College— which is unnatural for a lot of noble, rich London boys. Most get in for status and money, Gregory got sent there for his talents. Gregory was born with talents and had great expectations placed on him while he was content to create art and do things on his own.

When he was younger, he was obviously different compared to noble boys and girls around him— or general kids of the era. Being so “different, odd, and weird” was something that bothered him in his younger years, but once he turned 18 he stopped caring about others’ opinions. He’s his own person and he couldn’t care less what others have to say about it.

As such, he’s very obviously not thrilled to go to a crowded, renown, high-end school, but thankfully he was sorted into a House that accentuates his eccentricities with others like him. Still, he tends to keep to himself (as most introverts) save for a few close friends— Redmond, Greenhill, and Bluewer.

He’s “eccentric” by many peers but if he were in modern times, he’s definitely neurodivergent at the least. Definitely not me projecting my own autism /s lol.

One misconception is that people believe him to be antisocial or too “moody” when this is not the case. Gregory has a vibrant inner world and is an excellent observer; which allows me to transition into how a relationship with him might be.

Relationship:

Gregory isn’t one to actively seek anyone out, let alone a significant other. For any sort of relationship to have with this artsy fellow, you’d have to either 1) be someone who stands out with the time period’s standards (like him) or 2) have to be brought into his life suddenly and stay for a while before anything remotely romantic happens.

It’s fun to see him with someone who is either a lot like him or someone who is a bit of an opposite— although mostly in external appearance and I’ll explain why.

I don’t think someone who is a polar opposite to be someone who suits Gregory.

If say, someone preferred cutesy girly things or pastel colors and sunlight, that’d be fine. However, I see a calmer personality with a lot of empathy and respect being something he’d need. Otherwise I don’t think a boisterous loud person to be someone that he’d see himself with romantically.

With that said, courting you is… a feat lol. It takes Cheslock (poor Gregory), and the rest of the P4 to really push him in the direction of you.

When it finally happens and Gregory and you are able to formally meet and court, all five of them practically cheer lol. No one thought he’d be the type to find a s/o and Gregory’s parents were concerned he’d die alone :(

Because of expectations of his nobility, I do expect he’d marry you in some way irregardless of gender. But with you, someone he’s not arranged to and someone he truly loves, he tends to view it as a romantic and passionate expression of his commitment towards you.

A relationship with Gregory is majorly spent in comfortable silence. I’d say quality time is a major thing with him. However, he, like a lot of introverts, still needs ample time to himself— so don’t expect him to be glued at your hip. Plus, for that time period, PDA and general overt displays of affection whether in public or private was generally seen as odd. Gregory, for one, doesn’t care too much for the status quo but he is still figuring out his first relationship with you and how to navigate it while respecting you.

In a modern au, he’d be a bit more clingy in private. I see him as the type to play with your hair, study its shape and color for his sketches but mostly because it feels nice to him. If you are reading or gaming then I see him the type to sit behind you with his chin on your shoulder just enjoying quiet contact. It’s very wholesome. Alternatively, whether you lay with him on his chest or he on yours, he just enjoys quiet moments where he can be close to you.

He’s very reciprocal. By this I mean; you respect him and his hobbies, he respects yours. You show him kindness and care, so does he. He’s actually quite a classically romantic guy and is one to surprise you with flowers, food, and of course, sketches and art! He definitely cares and worries about your well-being and happiness (as seen in manga with his friends too!), so he will have his moments where it seems like he’s mother-henning you if he feels that you aren’t taking care of yourself.

Don’t be surprised that one of his first drawings of you was during his pining phase before the two of you formally spoke or courted lol.

Overall a relationship with Gregory is mostly spent in quiet understanding in silence with a partner who is able to empathically express and respect him mutually. Despite being a bit of an oddball for the time period he lives in, he still is a traditional romantic who loves to look after your well-being and give you gifts 💜

#x reader #gregory violet x reader #black butler gregory violet #gregory violet #anime x reader #black butler x reader #black butler headcanons #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji Gregory violet #kuroshitsuji #anime headcanons #x reader headcanons

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rrickgrrimes8 · 1 year

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Your Bear Part II

summary: you are found (part I)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x niece!reader

warnings: angst, reunion, violence, infected, happy ending :))

not sure if i like this as much as the first part but i hope yall do. i just want to thank you all for the response to my past few fics (especially your bear). its been unreal. i stopped writing for a while and these were my first ones back so this was an insane response to it! thank you so much for your love and appreciation it really does mean a lot!

also! i tagged basically everybody who left a comment asking for part 2 - sorry if thats annoying idk ive never done a taglist before. thanks for the comments tho :)

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open

word count: 2.3k

22 Years Ago...

The world around you screamed for help. People ran around, skin on fire, missing massive chunks.

You wailed as they passed, hands tightened around your ears. You just wanted to find help. You wanted to save Sarah. This wasn’t what you expected.

“D-ad,” You cried, hiccupping, “D-addy!” You missed his touch. You missed his voice and his face. His laugh. You just wanted your daddy.

But which way had you come from?

You stood, idle, in an alley way you didn’t recognize, a man lay a few feet beside you. Blood seeped from his neck, running to kiss the tips of your shoes.

He twitched.

Your breath caught in your throat, the hair on your neck stood high. “D-daddy,” You whimpered, quieter than before, “Please.”

He looked at you now. His face grotesque, the shape of jagged teeth marked his greyish skin. White, stringy tendrils extended out of his mouth as he crawled to you – his legs being left behind as he did.

You screamed when his nails scratched against your shoe. In the panic, your bear fell from your grasp, landing in the bloodbath.

You tried backing up from the monster, but his hand stopped you. His claws captured your ankle.

You didn’t realise you were falling until your back hit the wet ground. You let out a shriek as he trailed up your body. “P-please,” You sobbed, “D-ad! D-addy!”

The creature didn’t even flinch. He opened his jaws further, searching for your small neck, ready to mark you just as he had been.

But a shot sounded off and his weight settled on your petite body.

A strong force tugged him off you, the same force pulling you into their arms. You wailed, fighting against the stranger’s grip.

“It’s okay, sweetgirl, you’re okay,” She told you, rushing you away from the scene, “You’re going to be okay; I promise.”

You didn’t know what to make of Jackson. It was nice, you supposed. Weird though. It felt like what you imagined before felt like. Not that you remembered much. You remembered how loud cars were, how the TV remote worked, how to strum a guitar.

You remembered your sisters voice, her hair, how smart she sounded even if you didn’t understand a word.

You wished you remembered your dad. He was a blur to you. Like you had missed a chapter of a book and now a new character had no face. You remembered his laugh though. It was sweet, slow. Like a lullaby. You recalled being held to his chest and feeling the vibrations.

You wished you remembered your dad.

Sarah had settled in quickly, at least that’s what you thought. She was happy to be around people other than her mom (you tried not to internalise it all that much).

In the week since you arrived Sarah had grown attached to the strangers that took you under their wing. You still weren’t so sure. But when Sarah made grabby hands to the older man and all she got was a dejected smile in response a part of you hurt. You didn’t understand why.

They’d kept their distance or rather he had. Ellie came round every day. She loved Sarah. She loved you, even if, like Joel, you were a little rough around the edges.

But for a reason unbeknownst to you Joel couldn’t be in a room with you for longer than five minutes. You didn’t let it bother you too much. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to make trouble and get the pair of you kicked out or worse separated.

Ellie had come to you earlier that day, smile wide, cheeks rosy. She had a glint in her eyes, a plan. One you really didn’t want to know about nor be a part of.

Excitedly, she told you about the couple who lived across from her and Joel - his brother. Tommy and Maria and the somewhat new addition of Lily, their little girl. Ellie had told them about you - although missing out some of the major minor details. They agreed to have you over she had said. And despite the age difference between Lily and Sarah the older girl was excited to meet her.

So, there you stood, Sarah shielded from the cold into your chest. You raised your hand awkwardly, knocking a little harder than you expected.

A woman opened the door. She was beautiful, smiley, friendly. You couldn’t tell if that was a façade or not. That made the nerves in your stomach stiffen. “C’mon in, sweetheart,” Maria ushered you inside after she confirmed it was you.

You forced a smile for her, “Nice place.”

Maria nodded, looking around the room proudly, “Thank you.” She urged you to take a seat, letting you know her husband, Tommy, was just dressing Lily.

“So, you’re younger than I thought you would be,” She confessed, “Not to be rude or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” You cleared your throat, sitting opposite her, Sarah making a home on your lap, “I’m 27.”

“Wow,” She smiled, “And what about her?”

You stroked the top of Sarah’s head, where her hair had slightly begun to grow, “Couple weeks now.”

Maria shifted ever so slightly in her seat, unspoken sympathy in her eyes, “And the father?” You stilled, escaping her gaze you looked towards the coffee table, taking inventory of the odd books they had. “I’m sorry,” She spoke quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” You cleared your throat sheepishly, “There isn’t... her dad did what he had to.” You still remembered his screams.

“I’m sorry,” Maria frowned, hands soothing over her jeans, wishing Tommy would appear to aid the situation.

“Don’t be,” You said earnestly, “He got us here, right? One way or another...” Maria wasn’t sure you really meant that. The lost look in your eyes told her what she needed to know. As did your shaking knee. You’d give anything to have him back. She bit her lip, somewhat guessing the rest.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” A males voice cut through the tension, “Wouldn’t stop squirming for the life of me.”

Maria chuckled opening her arms to grab Lily, introducing you as she did. He blanched hearing that name. He near screamed seeing that face - your face but so much different, so much more mature.

Tommy blinked a few times, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He whispered your name carefully, as if you were a wild animal, prone for violence.

Maria gave him an odd look, moving Lily over to you and Sarah. “And this is our sweetheart, Lily,” She told you as Lily began fussing relentlessly in her arms, desperate to touch the baby.

“Baby,” She cooed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” You mused, croakily, inching closer to the pair, “This is Sarah, Lily.”

Tommy wanted to throw up. He felt it dancing up his throat, teasing his uncertainty. He felt stuck. He truthfully didn’t know what to do or what to say. Should he straight out ask you? You didn’t seem to recognise him though. Maybe it was a clone? A doppelgänger? Should he run over to Joel’s for safety away from this confusion?

Joel.

Did Joel know? He had to know. He needed to know.

“Tommy what’s wrong?” Maria called to him. He choked a little, eyes trailing over to the plaque that watched over their new life. The plaque he knew had no place for your name. He knew it. You were here.

Maria followed his gaze, a weird feeling in her chest as she saw her husband so unlike himself. She read Joel’s daughter’s name. Sarah. Was he freaked out because they shared the same name?

She gulped - it wasn’t just the baby whose name was shared but yours too it seemed. You couldn’t be, right? No- You died. Joel was so sure you died and despite all Tommy had told her, all the hope he had for you, she always found herself on Joel’s side. Funny that. Any other situation she would’ve made a point to oppose the eldest Miller.

But now... You were just five. You couldn’t have survived on your own. You wouldn’t have had a life in this world.

But again, hadn’t you said you were 27?

“Go,” She told him, firmly, “Make sure.” Tommy nodded, failing to hide his tears as you watched in confusion and darted out of the room with a sense of urgency that unsettled your stomach.

“Is everything okay?”

Maria’s attention snapped back to you, “Fine... everything’s fine.”

A disconcerting feeling swam under your skin and a sudden resolve to flee hit you. “I- We should probably go,” You mumbled, bringing Sarah to your chest once more.

“Wait, please,” She attempted, “Just wait.”

You shook your head, apologising softly before rushing out of the house. You caught eyes with two men across the road - Joel and Tommy. They stood on his porch, seemingly arguing with each other.

You spotted Ellie watching through the window, a guilty look on her face - what had she done?

The brothers stared at you as you left the home. Their eyes didn’t leave you for a second. Tommy called your name, desperately but when he moved to catch up with you, Joel pulled him back.

He clenched his jaw as you rushed back to your home, out of sight. “She was my niece, Joel,” He scowled, “My fuckin’ family too.”

Joel shook his head, shaking off the shame Tommy was trying to force on him.

“You don’t get to keep this kind of thing from me,” He yelled, “You- You are unbelievable, Joel.”

“Unbelievable?” He mocked, “Is it so unbelievable that I didn’t want to advertise to the whole goddamn town that she was my daughter when, hell, I don’t even know if she really is!”

“Bullshit,” Tommy spat, “You’re not stupid. You knew. Of course, you fucking knew. You knew like how I knew. One look. That’s all it woulda took you. No… you knew. You were just too scared - like always. And that, your selfishness, takes us all down with you.”

“Fuck you,” He grunted, storming back inside.

“Christ,” Tommy mumbled, turning back to his own home.

You had a baby.

You were here, alive.

You steered clear from the group for a little while afterwards. The whole situation made you heart clench. It felt like a game that you didn’t know the rules of, but they did. All of them did and they were careful not to reveal anything. But you wanted to know - you needed to.

You knew it involved Joel or at least you felt like it had to. The way he looked at you when you first met. The way he spoke. The way he shook. It had to be him. He had to be the answer.

You gave up on your attempts to avoid them when you came to that realisation.

The same realisation that brought you here, at his front door in the middle of the night. You shyly knocked a few times - no response. You repeated the action with a little more force, a little too much. The door creaked open on the contact, but no one came to greet you.

You sucked in a harsh breath as you debated entering. The door was open right? Fair game? Silently you forced yourself to step inside.

Their home was dark - one lamp lighting a whole room. You frowned looking over to it. Someone had to be here, right? Where else would they be so late?

And then you saw him. Joel. The contradictory man. He was asleep. His body was sprawled all over the couch, an empty bottle of God knows what lay beside him as did what looked like... a bear?

Shakily, you took a step forward, his name dying in your throat as you saw the bear in a better light.

It was... yours.

Why would Joel have your bear? The bear that when you were a child was essentially an extension of you. The bear that chased away all the bad dreams. The bear that your dad had gotten you - your dad.

You gulped - the bear you hadn’t seen since the night you lost everything. Since the night you almost lost your life.

Joel shifted in his sleep, pulling the bear close to his chest, careful of its head as if it was a baby. Your eyes burned. A gasp escaped your lips. You could read the chapter now. You can see that character’s face - your fathers face.

Different but the same.

“D-dad,” You whispered before you could stop yourself and backed away.

Your back met the door, slamming it shut. The man jolted awake, alarmed eyes frantically searching the room before landing on you. They grew small, weaker, like he wasn’t all the way there.

Joel watched you closely, taking note of your falling tears, he spoke your name. You choked on a sob, hand clasping over your mouth. “Baby,” He shot up before he had a moment to think and approached you.

You didn’t flinch away, like he expected. You didn’t stop crying either. You studied him now. The wrinkles. The scars. The grey hairs. The same look in his eyes.

“How long have you known?”

He flinched at that. Your voice so familiar, so broken. “Since we met,” He didn’t have to try too hard to understand what you were getting at. He felt shameful, though. This shouldn’t have been the way, right? This felt too casual, too unknown.

You wanted to ask more, yell at him. Beg him to tell you why it wasn’t the first thing that he told you. But you didn’t. Instead you put one foot in front of the other, until you were mere inches from him. “Dad,” You shuddered.

He hadn’t realised how much he missed being called that, how much he missed being your dad.

“Babygirl,” He took your face in his hands, “My baby grown up.” He watched you closely, tears welling up, “I’m so sorry, babygirl. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, slamming yourself into his chest, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Oh, baby,” Joel wrapped his arms around you, hand cradling the back of your head.

“With me, babygirl,” He smiled for moment before letting it fall, “Don’t go away again, babygirl, never go away again.”

You smiled into his chest, whimpering softly, “I won’t, dad, I promise.”

@meli-blacky @zaweashtonslover @3zae-zae3 @bbciwp @cloudroomblog @white-wolf-buckaroo @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @myboyfriendisbigfoot @mell-bell @hummusxx @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @dilfsaremyfavourite @specialagentmonkey @slutforstark @lizlil @unsaiduglywords @ellaprime7 @aphrcdites @zynbsblog @imonmykneessir @mandowhatnow @tomorrowseverything @livelovemusic0996 @icarusthefoolish @b-bloop @leemirna @hexaecana @littleshadow17 @sgt-morgan @adorreeabbie @abbiesxox @leviackrmnss @eternallyvenus @hai-kbai @daydreamerblues @abbyrxx12-blog @montenegroisr @chxosunbound @shqwqrma @littlemissporter @wonwoosthetic @riri53 @softsakusas @prettysbliss @katiemars @kik51199 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @ellele19 @newavenger @19891213 @dgraysonss

#joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x daughter!reader #tommy miller x platonic!reader #tommy miller x niece!reader #ellie williams x platonic!reader #the last of us imagine #joel miller x platonic!reader

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reverseexorcist · 7 months

Text

★ 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝 ★

"If it's alright could I request Carmilla Carmine x a fem reader who's a fallen angel? Like maybe they met during extermination and got their wings ripped off for not wanting to kill Carmilla's kids or they were already in hell with Carmilla for some time before the extermination? If you don't want to do this that's totally fine, and sorry if this isn't how to request stuff :)."

Honestly, with how this ended, I'm really tempted to write a much fluffier part 2 to this

Part 2 ↫ Right here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,462 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, descriptions of gore/blood, canonical Lute slander (sorry Lute), romantic or platonic wasn't requested so I went with platonic to fit the story more (if the requester wants romantic just feel free to ask me), mother mode Carmilla (she might be a bit ooc because of this),

Oh wow.

Oh wow were you shaking.

You couldn't tell if it was from the excitement or the nerves - Probably both if you were being honest with yourself, but you couldn't shake off the vibrating feeling tingling beneath your skin that made you want to fly laps around heaven. Your stomach was doing flips, but you led mask only reflected your nearly psychopathic grin and twitching eye.

Even after your lieutenant Lute shot you a stern look, no doubt pissed off because you couldn't sit still for five goddamn seconds, you still couldn't resist fidgeting with your spear. It was sparkly, and somewhat heavy, and a murderous weapon that was entirely yours! It was also cold, freezing almost. Even against your gloves it made your palms feel numb and seemed to shine in sync with your own valiant excitement.

Baby's first extermination, basically. While the name certainly sounded scary, you'd been waiting for this day for six months (you and the other forty-five cadets in your platoon) and you were ready to do your best! Sure, you were still technically a rookie, hanging around the flock and bringing up the rear of the exorcists, but this was how you proved yourself to rise the ranks, right?

Your heart stopped beating in your chest when you finally reached the front. Holy shit, that was the high seraphim! Sera, right? Oh wow, she really was much much taller in person, towering above the clustering sea of black and white murderous intent. Her outward vibe was motherly and caring, but you could see the glint of distain, guilt and regret sparking in the deepest depths of her eyes. Which was confusing, because you were doing a good thing, right? Ridding the divine planes of sinners irredeemable souls.

The thoughts crowded your mind - Evil, twisted monsters crawling around like bugs in the brimstone crowded crevices of hell. You could only imagine the satisfaction of killing your first hell spawn.

It would have to be cool no doubt. Something big with lots of teeth and claws and that could breathe fire! You had to come home with a cool story to brag about. You'd heard the tales from all your superiors. From everyone including the first man Adam himself, your respectably awesome (if a little terrifying) lieutenant Lute, to the other lieutenants like Michael and Gabriel. You'd have to off a demon built like a mountain to get their attention.

And by the big man himself, you were going to do it. Even if it took you a hundred years, you could already see yourself commanding a group just like yours, bearing a helmet with horns big and curved and bold, black stripes stippled along your ivory wings.

With a very particular pep in your step, you saluted the high seraphim Sera respectively, head cocked up just so you could regard her kindly warmth in fullness. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, and although she swiftly sent you on your way with the rest of your platoon, you couldn't help but let your nerves sway your resolve ever so slightly.

It didn't matter though! You unfurled your wings with perhaps a bit too much of a dramatic flair, but with your spear in hand and helm polished so it shined with malevolent glory, you kicked off without a second thought, tailing right behind where you were supposed to be.

Your first impression of hell was the heat.

With the extermination already well under way, raging fires were already burning up half of the city sending whorls of smog up into the air. You easily battered it away with a few strong flaps of your wings. With your head on the swivel, your eagle-eyes peered around the desolate land for the forms of the sinners struggling to thrive below, silhouettes hidden by the thick layer of smoke and ash blanketing the landscape.

Lieutenant Lute furled out her wings below you, a screeching war cry echoing throughout the battlefield as she all but left your rookie platoon in the metaphorical dust. The sound itself only spurred you on, itching for the blood of a demon on the blade of your angelic spear. Without a second thought, you tucked your wings to you sides and dived below, headfirst into the fray.

Billowing flames licked past you harmlessly, though they burned like hell (which seemed rather apt, considering where you). You didn't falter, flying through the embers like a goddamn phoenix ready to cleanse the realm sprawled out beneath you. The solid wingbeats of two of your fellow cadets only strengthened your resolution, a holy fire burning in your soul - An itch to clear the filth of devil scum away. This was the chaotic strength that your captain had sought to build in you, and now you were finally able to act on it.

But everywhere you looked, you only found simple, humanoid souls running and screaming in terror. Eyes wide, half-dead or bloodied beyond belief as they scrambled to find shelter from the onslaught of exorcists like yourself. Nowhere could you see the mangled forms of the demons you'd been taught to slaughter. Descriptions from your seniors before you passed through your mind - 'gleaming eyes with with wrath and lust', 'gangly limbs twisted to an unholy form', 'mouths filled with rows of sharp teeth, and claws like knives'.

You faltered, confused. The words of Lute rang out in your mind.

"Of course, it's not like they can actually hurt you. You're all warriors, the toughest, just use your spears to stab the shit out of them!"

You were alone now. You couldn't hear the comforting sounds of your fellow rookies behind you anymore. They were well in front of you now, peering around with a similar confusion to yours. But to your absolute horror, they simply shrugged their shoulders and dived forward with bloodlust evident in their glowing white masks. Silver points of spears were jammed through the heads of the terrified demons below. But were they demons? They didn't look like them at all. Every single book you'd seen depicting demons drew them as eldritch monsters with too many eyes to count, tentacles and claws and fangs with nary but bloodlust and vile thoughts hidden within their slitted eyes.

But the demons in front of you looked just like people. You could see the way their faces contorted in terror. You could see them scrambling to help what you could only assume were friends and family, pulling them along and carrying the ones who couldn't run for themselves. You could only feel your heart fall as you watched one of your best friends land on top of a sinner already crushed by rubble, turquoise skin stained red. The begged and pleaded and cried, but their voice was silenced as the spearhead sunk into their skull.

You flinched. The world around you ignored you completely, and for once, you were completely happy to go unnoticed.

Shakily, you touched-down in a nearby street. It was littered with already oozing corpses, but other than that it was peacefully empty. At least here the sounds of violence and pain and terror was muffled, far away enough that you could at least try to distance yourself and get your breathing under control.

You barely reeled in a gag as the smell of blood invaded your senses.

Was this really what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? You could still see yourself in your mind's eye, a model exorcist like your lieutenant now leading her own platoon into another extermination. Maybe this would be a one off, just a shock to the system that would get your mind reworked into killing mode. But, the more you thought about it, the more your heart clenched in pain and terror that seemingly matched the suffering souls around you. You were an agent of heaven, you thought you were killing mindless monsters, not those with human souls! Sure, there were probably shitty people fucking around down here, but what about all those who had to sin in self defence?

A chorus of startled gasps startled you out of your panic ridden stupor. Your wings flared up, trying to make yourself look bigger, more threatening as you wheeled around. The spear in your hands looked more like a prop at this point, and it was clear that you had minimal idea how to use it inside a proper battle. But still, you fumbled with it and pointed it threateningly in the direction of the two demons that had appeared right behind you.

They clutched each other, stumbling backwards and further away from the danger of your angelic weapon. One of them placed an arm in front of the other, her eyes narrowing behind her red-tinted glasses as if she was both terrified by you, but was daring you to do something about it.

But still, you could see them shaking from where you stood. They both seemed rooted to the ground, the one with platinum blonde hair refused to take her eyes off of you, but the demon behind her (maybe her sister? A friend?) was looking around nervously.

You could see yourself reflected in those crimson specs, and for once it made you freeze. You'd seen yourself in uniform plenty of times before, the steel boots and guard gloves and the led, horned helmet, but it always seemed almost comforting before. When you were surrounded by your cohorts, it made you fit in. Out here, you realised, you were the monster.

The ever-present smile on your mask shrunk, falling into a grimace as your grip on your weapon tightened. Your wings drew in, you shrunk backwards, almost stumbling over your own feet in the process of trying your hardest to get away. You never wanted to scare people.

So drowned by your own confusion and fear and reckless thoughts of worry about the future that you didn't notice the confusion growing the faces of the demons in front of you turn into abject horror as a far more ominous silhouette grew behind you.

"I thought I taught you not to hesitate," Lute growled in your ear, placing her free hand on your shoulder and digging her fingers in till your were sure a bruise was marred into your skin. You didn't respond, couldn't even if you wanted to. The trembling that rattled you only grew stronger, and you fumbled as your hands cramped painfully. With a resounding clatter, your spear dropped from your grasp an on to the brazen brimstone floor.

Lute growled.

She didn't say anything, but she knew. The both of you knew by now. You couldn't kill a sinner.

Lute didn't even hesitate before shoving you to the ground. Your head collided with solid stone painfully even with your helmet on, stars shining behind your eyes as her words blurred together as she pressed her foot firmly between your shoulder blades. Your wings shivered and spread involuntarily, and you feared the moments that would come next. Lute was unpredictable, but this could only end with bloodshed.

The two girls still hadn't moved, transfixed in horror as they watched the scene in front of them play out.

Asphalt stung your hands and you tried to claw your way to freedom, fingertips digging into the scorched Earth as you started crying. Lute, however, was stronger than you. Of course she was, she'd been doing this for centuries, and you were still a fledging on her first trip out of heaven.

You never thought it would end like this.

Lute dug her fingers into your wings, tangling into your still downy feathers before she yanked with all her might. The scream she tore from your lips was hellish, agonising, yet the blended with the sounds of violence all around you. You were sure you blacked out several times throughout the process, but by the time your old lieutenant was done with you, barely anything but feathery stumps and golden blood remained of your wings.

You could only curl up, cry and watch as Lute tossed clumps of feathers aside as she stalked toward the two demons that still hadn't had the thought to run. And for the first time in your life, you felt sorry for the sinners that populated hell's ring of wrath.

She would make them suffer, that was for sure. If she was happy enough to tear of another angel's wings, you could only imagine what she would do to a sinner. You didn't want to imagine, and your mind was fuzzy enough that you thankfully didn't have to.

The sound of something sharp rang throughout the air. It made you groan in pain, the sound piercing your ears and making your brain rattle in your skull. Sharp - 'Tink tink tink tink tink.' If you could see the look of relief coming across the demons faces, a part of you might've urged Lute to run. Only, she had just torn your wings off with little qualm, and now you had no shits left to give if she lived or not.

The exorcist never got the chance to strike, her weapon torn from her hands and thrown across the street till it collided with a bloody body. Lute herself barely had time to react before she was struck over the head once, then twice in rapid succession. A whirlwind of white and angelic steel and pure fury launched herself in the path between the two demons and the exorcist. It was almost exhilarating to watch, seeing Lute strike out with her fists in a pathetic attempt of hand to hand combat against her new foe. Whoever they were, they were really fucking fast, almost too fast for you to keep up with.

The fight was over before it started. Without her weapon, Lute couldn't do much against the sinner she was pitted against, and as ruthless as she was, she knew when a battle was lost. In a flurry of black and white feathers, she fled. And then the newcomer's attention was shifted to you.

At this point, you would've welcomed death. The pain alone was making you drift slightly, and you didn't even have the energy left to groan when whoever nudged you slightly with something hard and cold.

"Mother.." The words were so soft, floating away from your ears.

"We need to leave." It was undoubtably her. That voice was the one who beat Lute into the ground.

"What about..?" That was the one who called out for mother.

"Won't she tattle?" So that had to be her sister.

Those words sent a dose of adrenaline through you. With as much strength as you could muster, you clawed yourself into an upwards position. You could feel the clotting blood running down your back, but if you were going to die, you at least wanted to do so with some dignity.

Shakily, with much more effort than was really desired, you reached up and peeled your helmet off.

It clattered noisily like glass against the floor, and suddenly the world was much brighter, much more red and the air was laced with more sulphur and death than you could imagine. But what really surprised you was the look of shock written across the sinner's face.

She was tall. Really tall. The only person who could really compete was Seraphim Sera or maybe Adam, but you really couldn't tell with how delirious you were.

"Una niña?" They all looked surprised.

The one called mother took a few steps forward, confusion and anger clearly present in her eyes. But, as she kneeled down in front of your comparatively tiny form, you realised the anger wasn't directed at you.

"Did she try to hurt you?" She turned back to face her daughters. They both shared a look, but ultimately shook their heads no. That right there, was your saving grace.

She looked back at you, hair pinned into high horns, and took your helmet in her large hands. She passed it off to one of her daughters, before gently scooping you into her hold.

You whined, writhing minutely in her hold as the searing phantom pain of your wings being torn off returned. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, and yet the demoness tutted softly, shushing you like you were a baby.

Her daughters followed without a word, and you and the family unit moved swiftly through the desolate roads. So many questions were running through your mind, and yet you couldn't find the answer to any of them, your thoughts to lost to the fog of blood loss to ever truly return.

"You better not betray me," Were the last words you heard before promptly passing out.

The plushness of a soft blanket was the first thing you felt waking up. For a moment, you felt nothing but relief realising the entire thing had been a horrid nightmare, but when you tried to rustle the numbness out of your wings, the relief was replaced with horror when you realised that your wings were just straight up missing, only two feathery stumps remaining in their place.

That made you shoot up in horror. You didn't even care about the sharp sting that ran down your spine and into your very being, you were a bit too concerned about your current predicament.

"You're awake."

That made you promptly scream before ducking under the covers like you were a nestling again. A soft sigh reached your ears, but you dared not to venture out from the warmth of the thick covers.

Not like you had a choice, though, as you were soon pried away from their safety. It was her, the demoness with the high-pinned buns. She looked down on you, red eyes glowing in the low light, and yet, you couldn't sense a smidge of hatred towards you. Only distrust and sadness laced her expression.

"How old are you?" She asked after the silence had gone on long enough.

"I'm a fledgling," Is all you said. You didn't really fancy giving too much information. Although, the look of horror the crossed her face maybe suggested that you'd already given away plenty.

"Obligan a los niños a hacer esto?" She raised a hand and carded it through her snowy tresses, locks of white hair threaded loose as she paced back and forth. You only watched her, slowly sinking back into the comfort of the warm blankets.

"You're still a child." It was a statement.

You hated being a child. You didn't want to be a child, at least, you hadn't wanted to be a child in the past. You wanted to join the ranks of the exorcists, and to do that you at least needed to be juvenile. Hell, you were lucky enough to make it into the cadets while you still had baby feathers decorating your wings. But now, the fact that yes, you were still technically a kid made your saviour look upon you with more than just disdain and hatred like any other exorcist, but rather she looked upon you with an emotion that you'd never seen before, and not one you could really name.

"You are a child, and now you have fallen," She eyed your mostly healed wing stumps, and you couldn't help but reflexively flex them anxiously. The literal weight off your back made you want to cry.

"Was this your first extermination?" She gazed upon you with a guarded look. You nodded.

"And you didn't hurt my daughters?" Another nod from you. That seemed to make her relax just a tad.

"Could you ever hurt someone?" That made you pause, the memories of the extermination rushing back to you full force. Tears grew at the corners of your eyes, and still, you answered with a simple 'no'.

She exhaled a sigh of relief before closing the distance and kneeling down to your eye level.

"Carmilla Carmine." She reached a hand out toward you. So that was her name.

You clutched your hands close to your chest, fearing her touch, but gave her your name anyway.

"What are you gonna do with me?" You asked, voice cracking. Her gaze softened, finally letting her guard slip for just a moment.

"Well, you weren't going to make it out there by yourself. You'll be staying with me," The words took a moment to sink into your mind. Well, at least it was better than death.

Gently, like she was working with a scared animal, Carmilla coaxed you out from the comfort of the bed, slowly ushering you to her side. With your wings missing and their remains bandaged, head bare and missing your exorcist helmet, it felt like the safest place in the world.

"Welcome to Hell."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

#carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel carmilla #hazbin hotel carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla carmine #carmilla carmine x female reader #platonic

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sleepydeprived · 8 months

Text

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham’s greatest detectives.

[chapter 2]

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

The Batcomputer hummed with activity, casting an ethereal glow on the somber faces of the collected vigilantes. Five figures stood in a semi-circle, their eyes fixed on the screen.

"It seems we have an unexpected addition." Bruce, the one who called for their presence, broke the heavy silence.

The images of the young high school student continued to linger on the screen. Bruce's gaze drifted to Damian, the youngest among all of them, whose narrowed eyes betrayed a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"What nonsense is this, Father?" The young boy’s voice cut through the air.

Bruce spared a glance at the stoic faces of his other sons, each processing the revelation in their own way. Dick's expression held concern, and Tim seemed lost in thought.

"She is a potential blood relative, a daughter,"

Hearing Bruce’s explanation, the rest stayed in a deafening silence. Silence in which did not last long as Jason was the first to break it with a cynical smirk.

"A long-lost daughter? You sure know how to keep things interesting, Bruce."

The man in question’s jaw tightened, a hint of frustration flashing in his eyes. "This is no time for jests, Jason."

The youngest of the bunch crossed his arms. "This is preposterous. We need evidence, not some blurry images claiming to be family."

Bruce, torn between the skepticism that fueled his vigilante persona and the yearning for a connection lost in the echoes of tragedy, took a deep breath.

As the initial shock settled inside of Dick’s inner turmoil, he stepped forward, his eyes meeting Bruce's with a hint of understanding.

"Alright, what’s our next move?"

Returning his gaze to the screen where the same haunting eyes looked back at him, he answered,

“We can’t disrupt her life until we have concrete evidence.” Looking back at the faces of his sons who looked back at him expectantly, he continued, “For now, we observe.”

Through the symphony of slamming lockers and loud chatter, a figure clothed in the infamous Gotham Academy’s prestigious uniform navigated through the school halls, a mysterious aura surrounding her.

Her demeanor was an ironic mix of grace and clumsiness, her backpack swaying with each step. Unbeknownst to her, the school’s surveillance cameras tracked her every move and captured her interactions with fellow students, the footage easily accessed by those who were over taken by curiosity.

Being one of the said individuals, Damian Wayne—who fortunately goes to the same school as the said girl—observed his potential sister from a distance. His piercing gaze followed her, skepticism etched in his features.

Nothing extraordinary.

She seems normal enough. Too normal to be considered a Wayne.

As she approached her locker, Damian skillfully maneuvered through the crowd, ensuring a safe distance. He observed her interactions; the genuine smile that adorned her face, and the unintentional charm that seemed to draw people toward her.

The boy had attempted to interact with her at least once, yet couldn’t bring himself to think of a topic to talk about, as the girl was as much of a mystery as the shadows that cloaked Gotham City.

The school day continued, each passing period carrying the young girl further into a world where her identity remained a mystery, and her every move became a piece of the puzzle for those who watched in silence.

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ohnoitstbskyen · 3 months

Note

Oh no. Sir I believe I'm going to need you to explain that Dragon Age 2 opinion, that is a BLAZING hot take

I really don't think it is. Although of course all of this is personal opinion, not some sort of divine proclamation on high about which video games people are allowed to prefer, so take please it in the spirit it is offered.

Origins is a worldbuilding walking tour as much about explaining its own in-universe lore and fantasy history as it is about either its characters or the actual story that is happening in the game. It's a cool world! With some great lore! But also it is built entirely around Generic Fantasy Plot Structure #1 and never particularly seems interested in innovating, or surprising the player. On top of which, a lot of its setting and lore is pretty weakly sketched and doesn't really get developed into something either visually or narratively compelling until it gets built out in later games.

And while Inquisition has some genuinely fantastic characters, everything else about the game suffers very badly from the plague of BioWare Magic™, i.e. the production was an absolute mess up until the last minute when five hundred extremely overworked and underpaid creative geniuses somehow managed to wring a functional experience out of the trainwreck. It was made with fucking Frostbite of all things, jesus christ, it's holding together with spit and duct tape.

Now, Dragon Age 2 shares a bunch of the problems of Origins and Inquisition. It too bears the hallmarks of "our executives couldn't plan a healthy game production cycle if their lives depended on it" with a lot of unfinished content, half-assed sidequests and a truly frustrating over-reliance on a combat system that isn't half as engaging to use as it needed to be.

But Dragon Age 2 also has something neither of its siblings could ever even hope to match: an actual compelling protagonist.

Like, listen, I know people adore their headcanons about their Wardens and Inquisitors, and it has made for some truly amazing fanworks, but Hawke is literally the only actual character out of all of them. Hawke has conflicts, problems, needs and drives that actually inform and push the story forward, they have a family and a history and a reason to give a sh** about the central conflict of the narrative.

In Origins and Inquisition both, your character becomes the main character of the story entirely because of fate and random chance. You are the Chosen One and you are the only one who can Save The World because you're the last of the super special elite fantasy Hero Squad, or because you got some green magic stuck in your hand by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because the character is a complete blank slate onto which the player is expected to project themselves, random chance and circumstance are the only tools the plot can use to position them as main characters. There is no character to drive them to it.

In Dragon Age 2, Hawke becomes the champion because they're trying to build a new life for their family in Kirkwall, and end up embroiled in the chaos and politics that befall the city as a natural consequence of living in it and dealing with the conditions of it. Hawke and their family's needs and wants drive their actions, and push them to engage in endeavors that influence the course of history. They have agency (in the conceit of the narrative, at least) over how their life turns out, they make choices that have consequences, rather than being dictated into the position of Main Character by a literal looming apocalypse that permits no other course of action.

And I'm not about to sit here and claim that Dragon Age 2's story is perfect or that every character is a masterpiece or that every plotline is amazing. No, there's plenty of scuff and jank and things that have aged poorly and unresolved plot threads and all the rest of it.

And I am definitely not forgetting the godsdamned DLC where BioWare threw it all overboard by inventing a Special Bloodline Plot where oops it turns out Hawke actually IS a special chosen one specially chosen by a special fate to have a special role in Saving The World because they're special because of fate and destiny and blah blah, I still think that was phenomenally stupid (especially when Corypheus wasn't even Hawke's goddamn main villain to deal with what was any of this supposed to add to their character ffs BioWare)

But even with all its problems, the simple fact that Hawke is a character you can give a shit about independent of your own projection as a player - the fact that Hawke isn't just an empty bland blank slate with no personality, no traits, no wants or needs or drives - that has made Dragon Age 2 infinitely more memorable to me than either Origins and Inquisition. I think about it to this day. I think about Hawke to this day. I care about what happens to the character in a way that I just simply could never bring myself to do with either my Wardens or my Inquisitors.

#tb answers #dragon age #dragon age origins #DA:O #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #DA:I

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melbatron5000 · 5 months

Text

The Big Damn Kiss

Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.

This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.

I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.

DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!

Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?

Ahem.

Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.

I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)

Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:

And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:

And the next:

And our last Clue:

With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies. Edit: Found it!

Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:

One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.

Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?

So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.

Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.

Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!

Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.

I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.

I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:

(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)

My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.

Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.

(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)

What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?

A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?

Oh yes.

Records that Gabriel meant to give to Aziraphale, but he forgot. Records that Crowley realized Gabriel had put in the fly. The fly that Crowley grabbed once Gabriel had his memory out. The fly that he gave to Aziraphale when he kissed him. The fly that no longer held Gabriel's memory, but did still contain those damning records.

Here's Aziraphale reading the records:

Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:

And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:

That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.

That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #ineffable mystery #aziraphale elevator #corporate heaven #the big damn kiss #the kiss #good omens muriel #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

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annwrites · 4 months

Text

hey, sweetheart, need a ride?

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: billy drives you home one day & asks you on a date. you have a few interactions at school

— tags: billy being a dick after getting rejected. billy pulling out all the stop to impress you in his car. billy doing his utmost to make you jealous

— tw: misogyny

— word count: 2,586

— a/n: i am aware the backseat of his camaro would not have enough room for 2 people to screw, but we're going to pretend otherwise. and, while second generation camaros had the option of an automatic transmission, we're giving billy's car a manual (it's been a min since i watched the show & have 0 idea which his particular car had. the gif i chose makes it look like he's downshfiting, so i assume manual.), bc watching men shift gears is sexy as hell.

i know their english teacher was a man, but as the show never gave him a name, i came up with one on my own.

the name of the ice-cream place is a chain that's in fl that i found while googling, but we're going to pretend they're elsewhere too lol.

"Hey, sweetheart, need a ride?"

You stop in your tracks—currently headed in the direction of the school bus which will take you home—and see Billy Hargrove, reaching across the interior of his Camaro, popping open the passenger side door with a wide smile on his face as he looks at you. He even winks.

You glance to the bus, then back to him.

"Sure my car is a lot more comfortable than the bus," he calls to you.

You take a step toward his car, then another, then lower yourself inside, shutting the door, unsure what you're doing. Or, rather, why. He'd not been at Hawkins High long—a couple of months—but he'd already gotten just a tad on your bad side.

He sat behind you in English, and more than once your ponytail had been gently tugged at or yanked. And every time you'd turned around—telling yourself you were going to finally have it out with him over it—he'd flashed you a dazzling smile and said "sorry" or "my mistake". A few times, he'd feigned complete ignorance when you looked back, a blank look on his face, a brow raised, him asking "somethin' you need darlin'?".

You always turned back around, mouth shut, and sometimes heard him then snicker. You just rolled your eyes and sat forward, closer to your desk.

Once you were buckled, you looked to Billy, and watched as his eyes trailed along your bare legs, up to the hem of your sundress which stopped at your mid-thighs, then up your chest, until finally settling on your eyes. "Where to, doll?"

You feel half-tempted to get back out.

You don't, however.

"Just home. Do you know where Poplar Tree Road is?"

His eyes continue to stare into your own, left arm propped against his open window, right gripping the wheel. "Mhm."

Finally, he readjusts, placing his left hand against the wheel, right atop the shifter, and he peels out of the school parking lot.

It's not but maybe a couple minutes later that he grabs a cassette out of the glovebox, slipping it into the player in the dash, and turning the volume up to blast Metal Health by Quiet Riot.

You wince at the sound of the overtly loud music, but say nothing—not that he’d hear you if you did, anyway.

He shifts gears, making the car jerk and the hem of your sundress flutters, briefly flashing your light pink panties underneath and you panic, shoving it back down, holding it in-place, and when you look at Billy—cheeks burning—he’s already looking at you with a satisfied, toothy grin, chewing gum in the corner of his mouth. He shifts gears again, causing you to lurch forward and he looks back to the road.

You settle back against the seat, trying to catch your bearings, until he shifts gears yet again, speeding up—the engine revving.

You glance over to the speedometer, knowing the speed limit through this particular part of town is, at most, forty, and see he’s now going well over fifty-five. You want to tell him to please slow down, but know it’d do absolutely no good. You know that he’s well-aware of what he’s doing.

He’s trying to show-off, hoping to impress you.

The music, the shifting gears and speeding, and flashing you smiles and winks. Instead, all he’s managing to do is scare the living daylights out of you, and make you think of him as utterly reckless. You decide to never catch a ride with him again. How long has he been behind the wheel, anyway? A year, a few months? You worry—or, rather, hope, for the safety of others—that maybe he’ll get his license revoked for such idiotic actions.

Once he’s climbed to sixty, you decide to finally speak up, heart now pounding as you whiz past residential homes and people walking their pets on the sidewalk.

“Could you please slow down?” You yell at him over the radio.

He glances to you, brows furrowed. “Sorry, you say somethin’, baby? I can’t hear you over the stereo!”

He shifts gears again and you lean back, holding onto your seatbelt for dear life as he hangs a right turn.

You notice that you’re on your street and you finally reach forward, turning the music down to a comfortable level. “I live just up here.”

Once Billy has parked on the curb, just in front of your house, you unbuckle yourself with slightly-shaking hands. You grab your backpack from between your feet and look at him. “Thanks for the ride.”

He has his arm propped against the open window again, his fingers drumming lightly against the top of the car. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You turn to get out of the car, but he speaks. “So, listen, I was thinking.”

You turn back to him.

“Friday Night at the drive-in theater they’re having a showing of Nightmare on Elm Street. I was wondering if you’d want to go with me? Don’t worry, if you get scared, I’ll hold your hand.” He gives you a flirtatious smirk.

You lean back in your seat, clutching your backpack to the front of you. You know what he’s really after, and it isn’t sharing the love of cinema.

You glance out the windshield, then look back to him and sigh. “So, is that was this was, then? I thought you were doing this to be nice. To maybe make up for all the times you’ve yanked on my hair in class and picked on me. Instead, it’s to try and make another notch in your belt. Right?”

He stays quiet, staring you down, all humor now gone from his expression, fingers stilled.

You go to get out of the car and he throws at you, “I was willing to pay for your ticket and everything. Guess I can just save my money for something worth my time now.”

You get out, shutting the door behind you. You lean down, refusing to take the bait as you give him a kind smile. “Thanks again for the ride.”

He turns the car over, revving the engine. “Don’t get used to it—it won’t be happening again. Stuck-up bitch.”

He roars away with that, leaving you standing there, fuming.

When you enter English class the next day, you glance up, noting Billy is already present and seated. You desperately wish the teacher had put you anywhere but in front of him. But, as the class was full, asking to move seats would require switching with someone else, and you were sure such a sudden change in seating arrangements would then generate talk—rumors—among your peers.

So, you decide to continue suffering through it instead.

You walk over to your desk, pulling out your textbook, binder, and other materials, and Billy glances to you, then to Angela Cammers, who sits to your right.

“Hey, Angie?”

She immediately turns back to him with a wide smile, elated he’s finally talking to her after two months of being at school. “Yeah, Billy?” She asks sweetly.

He leans forward, hands folded atop his desk. “You want to go to the drive-in theater with me tomorrow night to see Elm Street?” He gives her a handsome smile.

Her heart jumps at the invitation.

“I’ll even buy your ticket. We can go in my Camaro.”

He glances to you, and your expression remains passive, as if you’d not even heard him, as you choose a pencil for class today. He then looks back to Angela.

She nods excitedly. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

He gives her a wink. “It’s a date, then.”

Finally, you sit without even a minuscule reaction toward him.

He grinds his jaw, burning a hole in the back of your head. Then, he reaches forward, yanking roughly against your ponytail. Hard enough to rip out a couple long hairs.

You immediately reach up, cupping the back of your head, and turn abruptly back toward him. “Ow! That hurt, Billy!”

Angela’s head snaps back in your two’s direction, but Billy pays her no mind as he leans back, crossing his muscled arms and shrugging. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”

You continue to glare at him and his lip twitches, which only serves to deepen your hatred.

Neither of you bother breaking eye-contact until, finally, the teacher speaks. “Mister Hargrove, Miss Y/N, is something the matter?”

You slowly turn back around, a pleasant smile now on your face. “No, Mister Barnes, I was just answering a question Billy had about last night’s homework.”

He nods, turning back to the blackboard to begin writing today’s lesson.

And then you hear from behind you, “Bitch.”

You fold your hands tightly together, fighting against finally exploding and letting him have it after weeks of picking on you—it’d started damn-near day one with him—and instead just turn your head infinitesimally to the left and mutter “asshole”, before turning your eyes back to the teacher at the front of the room.

His nostrils flare, muscles flexing as he squeezes his hands into fists. He then slams his boots down on the metal basket under your chair and you bounce lightly in your seat.

The two of you remain silent for the rest of class, both quietly seething.

The next day is finally Friday, meaning you’ll soon have two days away from Billy’s irritating presence.

Same as always, you’re standing before your desk, readying your materials for class, when Steve Harrington walks past you, greeting you kindly.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says with a smile.

You return the gesture. Finally, someone pleasant to talk to. “Hey, Steve,” you reply warmly.

Billy briefly considers giving the “Prince-of-the-School” one hell of an after-school special of an ass-whooping behind the bleachers once the day is through. In the meantime, however, he simply glares at him, which Steve takes note of, but doesn’t let get to him. It’s not as if he likes the guy much in return.

Steve then takes his seat to the right of your desk and he speaks to you again. “Hey, a few of us are planning on going to Twistee Treat after school, you want to come?”

You smile, feeling happy that someone at school was finally asking to involve you in something. You mostly kept to yourself, but Steve had always been nice to you. Nancy, too, in the few times you’d spoken to her. But you weren’t entirely sure what, exactly, was going on with the pair of them at the moment.

“Sure,” you say happily.

Billy’s rage is near-palpable at this point. And he of course injects himself into the conversation. He looks to Steve. “Don’t waste your time, man. She’s a fuckin’ prude.”

You blanch, then fill with anger. You speak before Steve can try to come to your rescue. “No, I just didn’t want to go to the movies with you, Billy. If I’d agreed, and given you what you’re obviously after, I’d end up being called a slut instead. Can’t win either way with guys like you, huh?”

He leans forward, the look on his face now irate. He doesn’t notice Angela now looking at him with a hurt expression. He points his index finger at you. “Listen here, you cun-”

“Alright, class, let’s take our seats,” the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

You swiftly seat yourself, crossing your legs, expression now serene.

Meanwhile, your body is practically vibrating with anger.

On Monday when you enter class, you keep your eyes focused on your desk as you make your way to it, refusing to look at Billy’s smug face.

But, ever the chatterbox, he of course speaks to you, not just letting things go.

“Hey, Y/N, you have a nice weekend?” He asks with obviously-feigned interest.

You shrug. “It was okay. I had a nice time Friday night. You?”

His jaw flexes. He still has half-a-mind to kick Harrington’s ass. He’d driven by Twistee Treat before going to pick up Angela, and had seen you and Harrington sitting side-by-side, laughing, eating ice-cream, surrounded by his friends. He’d never seen you so damn happy, and wanted nothing more than to ruin the moment, but knew with all Steve’s little buddies with him, he’d be outnumbered. So, he’d instead driven away, his mood soured.

He smirks, leaning back, folding his hands behind his head. “Oh, I had a great fuckin’ time.”

You smile warmly. “That’s good.”

He nods. “Mhm.” He leans forward, closer toward you and whispers, “Even got lucky in the backseat of my car,” he says with a wink.

You give him an impressed look. “Wow, go Angie.”

You then go back to organizing your things on your desk.

That’s all the fucking reaction he was going to get? That was it?

You sit, and he watches as Steve smiles the minute he lays eyes on you.

He snaps his pencil in two.

After class, Angela meets Billy at his locker, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, books hugged against her chest. “Hi, Billy,” she says adoringly.

He glances to her with a raised brow, expression bored. “Hey.”

She barely notices his poor reaction to her sudden presence. “Would you want to come over to my house after school to study? And then, maybe after, we could go get ice-cream at this place nearby?”

He shoves a book onto the top shelf of his locker, now irritated. She wanted to go to the same damn place Harrington had taken you on, what he assumed was, your first date? No way in hell.

“Why would I want to do that?” He asks, tone flat.

Her face falls. “Oh. I just… I guess because Friday night we…y’know.”

He slams his locker closed. “I already got what I wanted. I’m not interested in anything else from you.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “But-”

He steps past her and she watches as he strides down the hall, then reaches out toward you—who is currently occupied talking to Steve Harrington—and yanks on your ponytail. You quickly swing around, yelling at him, meanwhile he sticks his tongue out in an open-mouthed smile, walking backward for a moment, then turning to continue heading to his next class.

She grows even more upset and makes her way to you, reaching you just as Steve steps away.

“Is something going on between you and Billy?”

You look at her, taken aback at being asked such a thing.

“Like what?” You ask, confused.

“Like…do you have a thing?”

Your brows raise in incredulity. Is…is he spreading rumors that you do? “Why would you think that?” You ask, now panicked.

“I saw him. He does it all the time: pulling your hair. Like little boys do when they like a girl. And I heard you say Friday that he asked you to the movies first. Which he told me was bullshit when he came to get me for our date, by the way. He said you were making things up because you were jealous.”

You let out a laugh, which hadn’t been intended. You quickly compose yourself. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. Just at the notion of me being jealous of someone going on a date with him.” You close your locker then. “I can’t stand him, Angela. Believe me when I say you’re welcome to him, even if I think you—anyone, really—deserves far better.”

You head to fifth period then, leaving her standing there.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x fem!oc #billy hargrove x female reader

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 1 year

Text

I Hate You

Five times Ed told Xenk he hates him, and one time... he tells him he hates him again, actually.

2.3k, Rated T for swears.

~~~

Xenk strides ahead through the winding tunnels of the Underdark, his pretentious cape billowing behind him.

It’s like he has his own personal wind, Ed thinks. Probably generates it himself, the smug bastard, no magic required.

The eery little creatures on the walls around them pulsate gently as they pass, their shimmering tentacles casting a dim blue light across Xenk’s armour. It glimmers. There’s something oddly hypnotic about it. Ed wonders when he last polished it. He was probably polishing it that very morning, desperate not to get a speck on it.

Fucking paladins. Fucking Harpers.

Ed watches him forge on ahead with increased annoyance.

“I hate you,” he whispers. Xenk says nothing, but the tilt of his head is enough for Ed to know he heard.

After the incident in Neverwinter, Ed does not become rich beyond his wildest dreams. He does not bring home cartloads of gold. He does not swap out cotton for silk and linen.

What Ed does is quietly curse Xenk under his breath every time he thinks about what he could have had. He isn’t poor - heroes of the realm aren’t left to freeze and starve, after all - but he always wonders what life would be like with a little more lining in his pockets.

That is what makes him to take the job offer when it lands at his feet. Although it’s a difficult job to say no to - a request from the old Lord himself, who has sought out Ed and Holga’s skills personally, to deal with what he describes as a spot of bother in a town a few miles from the city. This time, Kira is undeniably nervous but seems keen for them to go: they’re heroes, now, she reminds them. For the first time, Ed realises that she’s proud of him, and that would convince him to do nearly anything.

He muses, as he dodges out of the way of the snarling creature that’s been eating the local’s sheep and goes barreling into a towering pile of hay bales, that he is very glad Kira cannot see him right now. For a baffling moment, straw poking him in all the wrong places, he has no idea which way is up, flailing wildly for something to grab.

And then he does. He wraps his hand around something firm and strong and cold and—

He's heaved to his feet. Standing in front of him, radiant in his armour and the dazzling light, is Xenk.

Ed quickly lets go of his arm.

“Greetings, Edgin.”

Behind him, surrounded by villagers making ohh noises, is the decapitated body of the beast that Ed had been fighting, not seconds before.

“I had it under control,” Ed says.

“Of course.” Xenk smiles.

Ed thinks of the reward money. Of the accolades. Kira’s pride.

“...I hate you,” Ed says.

The smile does not fade. “Of course.”

First things first: Ed stinks. The stink is everywhere, it’s like it's in his bones, under his skin, in his head.

At least the damn dragon is dead.

“Please, oh heroes, please help us slay the beast!”

Ed had such high hopes. On the ride from their home to the mountainside town, he and Holga had been excitedly discussing how they would split the dragon’s hoard. Gems, jewels, piles of gold: they’d be rich, even after splitting it five ways.

Five. It had taken five of them to slay a dragon last time, after all.

And then, of course, there had been no gems, no jewels, no piles of gold taller than Ed stood.

What sort of shitty dragon hoards garbage?

No wonder the townspeople wanted rid of it.

He slides from the huge pile of muck. He can hear Holga cursing behind him, something about "and it’s in my fucking hair, too", while Doric, transformed momentarily into an enormous bear, attempts to lift a particularly sticky slab of debris from Simon.

Ed tries to stand, slips, and falls down again. This time at least he’s got his mouth shut.

“Need a hand?”

Ed looks up from where he’s on his knees in what he really, really hopes isn’t raw sewage. For a moment, he’s blinded by the sun, then the shadow ahead of him shifts, moves, and suddenly the light is blocked.

Xenk peers down at him, illuminated from behind, one hand extended.

Ed does not take it but instead struggles to his feet, determined not to fall again. He spits as he finally manages to stand.

“How the fuck—”

Xenk is spotless. From his dazzling armour to his perfect cape and his flawless skin. There is not a speck of dirt or shit or mud or even blood on him.

For a moment, Ed can only gape at him with his mouth open. He feels something cold and slimy slide down his back.

“I hate you.”

He goes to push Xenk aside (he dodges, of course he dodges) and strides away.

How Xenk became a regular member of Ed and Holga’s party, Ed just isn’t sure. It’s not just him: Simon, of course, joins them often, as does Doric when she’s able or the need arises. Ed enjoys having them both around - even if their whole on-again-off-again thing is beginning to piss him off - but Xenk is another matter entirely.

What really annoys him, really, actually gets on his nerves, is the fact that everyone else seems to love him. Sure, Xenk is noble and clever and a brilliant fighter. Yes, he’s a keen tactician and diplomat and is popular wherever he goes, and of course he’s the best swordsman Ed has ever seen and is furiously, distractingly handsome, but—

Where was that thought going?

Right, yes.

Everyone else loves him. But, of course, everyone loves Ed, too. Ed is just as popular, even if he is a bit more abrasive. Everyone loves a bard. That’s the way of things.

This is, Ed knows, a dangerous path to let his thoughts wander down when he’s several pints in as they celebrate a decisive victory and is swiftly seeing those pints down with several more, just to keep the first ones safe.

Simon is describing a stunt that Xenk pulled off to an adoring crowd of onlookers. Ed isn’t even sure what part of the daring deed he’s talking about, but the way the crowd is enraptured by his story is grating on him regardless.

Ed sees back his pint, nearly drops the tankard on the table, and the words spill from his mouth before he can stop them - not that he would try anyway.

“I hate you,” he mumbles.

Simon doesn’t stop in his story. None of his audience notices.

But Xenk looks up. He catches Ed’s eye across the table. This, Ed thinks. Let this be it. Let him drop that stupid facade and throw himself across the table and hit me. Go on. He eggs him on in his mind. He wonders what his face is doing. Do it, he thinks. Do it.

Xenk… does nothing. He smiles, the bastard.

The next thing Ed remembers is being poured into a bed in the roof of the inn. Someone is holding him up, making sure he doesn’t trip. There’s a metallic sounding clang that puts his teeth on edge, and when he rolls over he realises that someone’s placed a mental bucket beside the mattress.

“Sorry.”

He looks up. Xenk leans over him. No: he doesn’t lean over him. He’s standing a measured distance away, holding himself carefully.

Ed mumbles something. Xenk smiles again.

When Ed wakes up, horrible dawn light slicing across his face, he’s alone.

It’s all gone a bit wrong. Ed would be the first to admit when it goes wrong, but this time—

This time they’re truly fucked.

They shouldn’t have gone in with three people. But everyone else was busy, and they were running out of time, and so they entered the tower as a trio: He, Holga - and Xenk.

He’s been getting sort of used to having him around.

Which is what makes this—

It’s what makes this so bad.

He hoists him up over the edge of the demolished floor, pulling him up onto the stone beside him. Holga calls from somewhere up above - she’s coming to get them. Just stay there. Just hold on.

That’s what he mutters to Xenk, too, as he pulls his armour away.

Ed has never seen Xenk’s cloak stained red, before. The colour looks wrong.

Xenk’s eyes are closed. Ed’s hands shake as he strips off the armour. Xenk would hate to see him treat the expensive plate so carelessly - not that he would see fit to tell him that himself, not in the sort of language that Ed would use, anyway.

Ed presses his hand’s to the paladin’s chest. He’d feared this. Not this exactly, but the fear of being without a magic user is what forced him to finally tap into his buried bard’s magic late sometime last year. The going has been rough, even with Simon’s - and, to Ed’s surprise, Xenk’s tutelage. He’s learnt little, but enough.

It has to be enough.

Ed’s hands stain Xenk’s shirt in scarlet smears. Xenk's blood is hot. Like this, he suddenly seems human. Fragile.

Ed mutters the healing words. It’s the only healing spell he knows, and he’s shitty at it and exhausted to boot, but at this stage he’s willing to try anything.

He feels the magic course through him, down his arms, into Xenk’s chest. There’s a strange, floating moment where he feels the steady thud of Xenk’s heart in his hands, all the way up into his core. Ed can feel his eyes drooping. He’s so tired.

But Xenk opens his eyes.

“Ed?”

Ed’s never seen him look so scared.

No: that’s wrong. He’s seen him look this scared once before - the moment the hand had wrapped around his torso and pulled him over the edge into the darkness.

Everything hurts. Ed pulls his hands away, and feels himself falling.

“I hate you.”

And then it all goes black.

A gentle wind carries with it the smell of fresh leaves and summer wildflowers. Behind Xenk, hooked neatly on the protruding branch of a tree, his cloak moves in the breeze like ocean waves.

Edgin is unusually quiet. He’s leaning against the tree, his lute on his lap, although he isn’t playing. He stares out at something that Xenk cannot see.

“Edgin?”

There’s no response. Xenk goes to sit next to him, crossing his legs and settling straight-backed at his side.

After a few more moments of silence, Edgin finally speaks.

“It’s been a year, you know.”

Xenk turns to look at him. He does not pay too much attention to the passing of time: the celebration of dates and numbers.

“Since?”

Edgin does not respond, but sits up properly, leans forwards, and tugs at the open neck of Xenk’s undershirt, exposing the edge of the twisting scar that splits his dark skin.

Oh. He supposes it has been a year: although it feels like far less time has passed. A lot has changed in a single year - a lot that once terrified him. It feels less frightening now.

“I see.”

“Do you?”

There’s a sudden heat in Edgin’s voice. Like he’s held these words back for too long, and now they’re scorching him.

“Do you see, Xen? Do you really?”

Xen. Xenk cannot remember the last time someone gave him a diminutive name. This is another thing that’s changed in the last year. Before, he would have demanded his full name. But now… Now it makes him feel like he belongs. He belonged to the Harpers, in a way. He had taken dozens of oaths, oaths designed to make many feel like one.

But this— this is different. It was different when Edgin and Holga accepted him as one of the gang, and it’s even more different now, sitting here alone in the sunshine with Edgin.

Ed.

“I—” he struggles with his words, now. He never did before. “Tell me how you see it.”

Ed takes a deep breath.

“It’s been a fucking year, Xen,” he says. His words have cooled but not extinguished, like fresh-forged red steel. “A year since I thought you were dead. Since we—”

Xenk knows what he’s thinking of. He’s remembering that night - the night after Ed had pulled him back from the brink, nearly throwing himself over in the process. The long, still evening broken by the quiet, quickly smothered confession.

“I told you I hated you,” Ed says, finally. His words are just steam, now. Light and ephemeral.

“You did,” Xenk agrees.

“I never— I never said sorry.”

“I know you did not mean it.”

Ed’s expression cracks. “Part of me did,” he admits, at last. “I hated you for— for leaving us.” And then, even more quietly: “...leaving me.”

The air feels heavy around them. Xenk twists around to better look at him. He takes Ed’s jaw between gentle fingers, feeling the scratch of his stubble, the gentle puff of his breath when Xenk rubs his thumb against his lip.

Ed does not resist as Xenk pulls him forwards and presses their lips together. Even now, it still thrills him - fills him in a way that all the magic and oaths in the world could not. Xenk thought he knew goodness, until now. He thought he knew devotion. He was wrong.

When they finally part, Ed stares at him with wide, dark eyes. He looks like a man lost.

He blinks once. Twice. And then his expression splits into one that Xenk has grown both familiar and fond of: a cocky grin to shrug off the fact that Ed has just experienced an emotion.

“You mushy bastard,” he says. “I hate you.”

Xenk grins, and kisses him again.

“No,” he says. “You do not.”

#dnd hat #dungeons and dragons: honor among thieves #edgin x xenk #xedgin #xenk yendar #edgin the bard #dndhat

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leqonsluv3r · 6 months

Note

Hii! May I ask Leon with a microbiologist? Like, they ramble about science news and new projects/ideas they have in mind (wich in most parts he doesn't understand), random facts about microorganisms & general stuff, along with jokes every chance they get? Thank you!

cardiomyocytes* (and the affected)

—re!2 leon kennedy x microbiologist!fem reader

(*cardiomyocytes — smooth muscle cells that surround the human heart)

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: the butchering of anything involving microbiology (i have zero knowledge of any of this so bear with me), reader being a smarty pants and leon having no clue what she’s talking about, pure fluff, kissing, established relationship, brainiac x leon troupe (obviously), police officer leon, and other things i’m forgetting to mention.

“he looks over the titles of the books she’s studying and reading, even if she already has a job as one of five microbiologists at her lab. she still reads and never stops gaining knowledge. a thing he admires but deeply despises in certain aspects of their relationship. always one upping him with her knowledge that she gained from many years of studying. he’s just a police officer, he knows the basics of that, but all the words of the titles he’s reading of the books on their shared bookshelf in their apartment are lost on him. what the hell even is protozoa? and why does it need to have a book?”

— or reader is a microbiologist and leon struggles to understand the basics of what his girlfriend does

masterlist taglist

an: thank you for the request anon. this is probably one of the hardest ones i’ve had to write because i know zilch about microbiology. had to ask my mom with the science degree about a million questions for this oneshot. so please enjoy <33 hope it meets your expectations.

she got her degree when she was seventeen. she was way ahead of everyone in high school, graduating a year early and starting college right away.

she knew she was smarter then some of the kids she went to college with, she was the only one insane enough to base a paper on the four cells that surround the heart.

and it got her an A. go figure.

she didn’t take risks often, not ever. only when she was in college and high school did she take academic risks, but never actual risks. like bungee jumping off of a bridge or trying the hottest pepper known to man.

no, she never did any of that.

not until she was in her fourth and final year of her microbiology degree did she take a risk. she never even considered taking it up until this point.

she saw leon for the first time, and everything inside of her. her brain, her heart and the cells surrounding it, seemed to indicate that she would be a fool if she didn’t talk to him. didn’t take that risk that she had never even thought of.

he was so beautiful, all of him. he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. from the brown hair that wasn’t completely dark, to the blue of his eyes and the way he carried himself as if he didn’t have a care in the world…even if he had a badge and a gun.

even if he put his life on the line ever single day, he walked around and into the coffee shop she studied at frequently as if it was no big deal. she tried not to gawk, tried not to peer over her textbook of blood born viruses. she just tried to be subtle, but apparently he caught onto that.

stupid cops and their ability to sense staring. she thought to herself that day as she ducked behind her textbook at the last second. she prayed to god he didn’t say anything, didn’t see her practically eye fucking him with her corneas.

she thought she was safe until she heard steps come towards her table, stopping just by her eye-line near the edge of the table. she swallowed and looked up from her textbook. and she had never taken such a risk by doing so, by just simply moving her head up from where she sat to meet his devastatingly beautiful face.

he tilted his head, looking over her features for a second himself. he selfishly let himself look, she had stared at him first after all. her face was coated in a blush that made her feel like her whole body was on fire.

is this what attraction, true, attraction was like? she felt like she was having a hot flash. she swallowed and managed a nervous smile, slowly closing her textbook and she made the biggest mistake by doing that — showing him the cover of her textbook.

his eyes went down to the cover of the textbook, reading it out loud, the first words he had ever spoken to her. “A Planet of Viruses?” he repeated the title with a raised brow and then let his eyes drift over to her. she managed to speak, or tried to, talking to men had never been her specialty.

“uhh, yeah. it’s…i’m in college.” she says as she flashes another nervous smile, wanting to shove herself into a flesh pit. she hated this, she was bad at talking to men. she should’ve just sworn men off forever but she was still a women. no degree of any kind would change that.

he nods slowly and to her surprise, he sits down at the small table across from her, coffee in a to-go cup. she scans her eyes over him, almost scared that if she looks to long she’ll be damned.

“what do you study?” he says with a small sip to his coffee, leaning back in the chair a little. he was taking an interest to her, trying to get to know her. she felt her cheeks flush ten times more at the realization. “microbiology.”

“microbiology? what is that?” he asks with a small chuckle as he shifts in the seat across from her, she brushed her hands over her pants and looked directly at him, not looking away once.

“uhm, it’s the study of the biology of microscopic organisms: viruses, bacteria, algae, fungi, etc.” she manages to explain as she feels his undivided attention on her, his blue eyes sparkling a little bit. it was almost like he liked learning something. whether it be about her or just in general, she wasn’t sure. “why microbiology?”

she tilts her head at him, looking at the book title he had read out loud for one of her courses upon introduction. “i think it’s fascinating. the cells in a body or the cells of a plant. they’re both living things, they operate differently but when you look at it underneath a microscope…they work in more similar ways.” he sips on his coffee and nods.

“so you like learning how things work?” he asks with a small grin, trying to figure out with just a subtle shifts of his blue eyes over her body across the small café table. she nods and smiles, she tries to do the best she can, she’s terrible at flirting.

“for the most part.” she hums as she taps on the cover of the textbook with her fingers, “the only thing i can’t seem to figure out is why your talking to me.” she continues with a small bite of her bottom lip in addition to her nerves.

he smiles and shakes his head, god help me. his smile is fucking beautiful. she thinks as she watches him adjust in the chair across from her, leaning his elbows on the table. “i think your a beautiful woman, you were staring and i happen to like awkward women who can barely flirt.” he says with a small tilt of his head, analyzing her again with his blue irises.

she knew he was joking, he was being honest and that got a lot farther with her then stupid pickup lines ever would. “i’m not great at the flirting, your right. i just…i don’t talk to handsome guys. i don’t.” she swallows as she realizes what she let slip out of her mouth.

“i’m handsome? hmm, maybe i should add that to my resume.” he says with a small goofy smile, showcasing some of his teeth. she blinked and felt her cheeks grow hot again, her whole body felt like it would burst into flames and implode. she tried to laugh but it came out like some weird cackle.

he shakes his head, “it’s okay, pretty girl. you think i’m handsome. i’ll take it.” he says with a small smile and a nod of his head. she felt a smile grace her features, one more real at his compliment. pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl…the way he said it echoed in her brain and didn’t escape.

before she could open her mouth to say anything, his radio went off on his uniform. a bunch of codes and words she didn’t understand before he answered the walkie. “yeah, i’m on my way.” he mumbled. he then looked back to her with an apologetic smile, good. he didn’t want this to end either, i must be doing something right. she thinks to herself.

“well sorry to cut the conversation short, pretty girl. but i gotta go bust some criminals.” he says with a small sigh, pulling himself out of the chair across from her. she nods towards him in understanding, “life of a cop, daunting.” she jokes, almost wanting to slap herself for it.

that was until he laughed — the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. she swears it, this man is already ruining other men for her. not that there were other men to begin with. she grabs her pen and grabs his to-go coffee cup.

he looks at her with a raised eyebrow, “stealing my coffee? you know this is a coffee place…” he starts as he cracks a small grin, she shakes her head with a small grin and clicks her pen when she’s done writing on the side. “my name and number, incase you get curious and wanna learn more about microbiology.” she grins.

she was hoping he got the hint, praying and by the looks of it. he did, he took the cup from her hand, their fingers brushing briefly. he holds the cup up and reads the name and number on the side.

he shoots her a playful smile, a glint in those blue irises that she swears could make any girl smile. “i’ll make sure to have a list of questions by friday.”

her brows furrow, “what’s on friday?” she swallows as she waits for his answer. he winks at her, winks, and says. “our date.”

she blinks, her eyes wide and feels a smile forming on her face that she can’t help, like she could implode right here in front of him and be absolutely fine with it. “okay…?” she trails off because she never got his name.

he sees her brows furrow and her actually look confused, which he guesses isnt something that happens often in her brain. “leon, or handsome cop. whichever you prefer.” he says with a small playful smile on his boyish features.

she laughs and nods, sucking in a breath. “see you on friday, leon. be in touch.” she says as she tries to regain her cool and not seem like a dork, some girl who’s never talked to the male species before. he scans her up and down with a different kind of something in his blue eyes, “oh i will be.”

she swears that as he walks away, she feels her pulse go ten times faster and her stomach erupt in butterflies. as she watches him exit the coffee shop, following him with her eyes until he gets into his police cruiser, to-go cup and hand and zooms out of the parking lot.

she feels her heart thrum faster in her chest. she knew she had taken a risk, the biggest one she ever had that was in academics.

and she was excited at what this would bring.

two years later, she’s still the same girl she was in her fourth and final year in college. except now, she had leon indefinitely.

he was still somewhat amazed by her smarts and the ways she could just pack information into her brain like it was nobodies business. she had graduated a year after they got together, marveling that all her late nights of studying and cramming down books about cells and microorganisms paid off.

he was there to see her graduate college, there when she got a job at a lab with five other scientists. all studying and devoting their life to finding inaccuracies in cell makeup of various plants & humans alike.

he was there to move her into his home, helping her unload various boxes of books and other things. even a microscope and slides. he didn’t ask, it was pretty self explanatory given her profession.

now here they were, together and happy. he was working as a cop at the police station in town and she was devoting her career to science. they were happy for each other, they were following their dreams.

the only thing was that leon was still lost whenever she talked about microbiology. he had zero idea about what it was besides the basics, that it was about cells and stuff. he had no other clue besides that.

it was lost on him whenever she opened her mouth to talk about work that day, he tried doing research, just so he could maybe try and understand what she was talking about. but he didn’t have a college degree in it, so all the terms and information were lost on him entirely.

he scanned the bookshelf of their shared place, looking over his titles which were just autobiography’s and some books he read as a kid. then there were hers, things about cells, data research, fungi…he tried reading one once and fell asleep after two pages.

literally.

because what the hell was a protozoa? and why did it need a 500 page book talking about it and its properties? he shook his head and sighed, deciding to take the book off the shelf and glance at the cover. he didn’t even understand it, again, it was lost on him.

but his girlfriend was happy, she loved all of it. so who was he to judge? but he just wished he could understand it a little. he didn’t like just nodding along when she talked about work like an idiot. he shoved the book back in on the bookshelf where it went, sighing.

maybe another day.

they were sitting on the couch watching a movie, some horror movie where the idiot protagonist was running away from the even stupider antagonist. she sighed and sat back on the couch cushions.

“you okay, baby?” he asks with a small glance from the tv screen in her direction. she sighs and nods, “horror movies are just…” she starts as she shifts on the couch, looking over at him. “why do you like horror movies?” she asks.

he thinks for a minute, shifting from his position on the couch to set his soda down on the coffee table in front of it. “i like them because it’s funny that any person would be stupid enough to make these mistakes.” he says with a small snort, nodding towards the tv where the protagonist was running down a dark alleyway.

she looks at the tv and then back at him, “but why are we watching it if you think it’s stupid?” she says with furrowed brows as she looks over his features. he sighs and pauses the movie with a small movement of his hand to the remote, turning to face her on the couch.

“what’s wrong with you?”

“huh?” she looks perplexed, like he just asked her to get naked, not that she’d mind doing that for him.

“you don’t get this grumpy when i watch horror movies. what’s the real issue here?” he says with a small tilt of his head, an amused smile on his face. she shifts on the couch, moving to tuck her feet beneath her. “nothing, i’m fine.”

“really? because i don’t think you are.” he says with a small raise of his eyebrow at his girlfriend, moving closer to rub a hand on her knee. “what’s the issue?” he repeats the question, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

she sighs and looks away from him, damn him and his ability to know everything about me. she thinks as she tries to form her thoughts into words. “one of the scientists in the lab today…” she starts and shakes her head, trying to push back the anger.

“he lost one of the cell samples.” she says in a small but angry voice as she feels her fists curl a little with anger. he rubs her knee with his hand, keeping her calm to the best of his ability, “what kind of cell sample was it?” he asks softly as he keeps his voice even and calm.

“human cell sample.” she says with a small pinch of her brow, “a cancerous human cell sample.” she repeats as she looks at him. he raises a small brow in her direction again, “how does someone manage to lose that?” he asks as if she isn’t there, more like his thoughts are just pouring out of his mouth.

“i have no clue. but he’s lucky we have a backup or else…else i would’ve shoved him into the eyewash station.” she says in a low growl as if it’s a dangerous threat. he chuckles and shakes his head, still rubbing his hand in soothing circles over her knee. “your not gonna shove anyone into the eyewash station.” he says with a small knowing look on his face.

“but i could.” she retorts with a small raise of her eyebrows in her boyfriends direction. “he messed up my sample. he had it coming.” she raises a fist and shakes it. he rolls his eyes playfully at her antics, putting the hand on her knee over her curled fist and lowering it. “calm down, rocky. your not hurting anyone over some dish full of cells.” he says with a small laugh.

she sighs and nods, “i want to though. it took me months to acquire those samples for research.” she groans as she throws herself back on the couch dramatically. “look at it this way,” he starts.

“you don’t have to worry about what happened to it. you know what he did with it, lost or not.” he says with a small shrug as he glances over her on the couch next to her.

“that’s not the point!” she says in frustration as she grips at her hair and buries her face into the couch cushions. he leans over a bit and rubs over her spine, “take a step back, baby. relax, it’s okay.” he says gently as he rubs her back over her hoodie she was wearing.

she takes a couple deep breaths, nodding into the couch cushions as she relaxes into his touch. “you need to calm down. it’s just science at the end of the day. it’s not gonna change and it’s not going anywhere without you.” he reassures her as he leans over and presses a kiss on the back of her head, rubbing soothing circles down her spine.

she sniffles, “i know but he lost the fucking sample.” she groans in frustration as she keeps her cheek buried in the couch cushions. he nods supportively and rubs her back, “you can’t stress over it. what’s done is done.” he says firmly but gently, a small sad smile on his features.

he knows how worked up she gets over her job, taking it home with her all the time. he always has to de-stress her. he has to unknot her like rope and make sure she’s okay after the work week.

her job makes his look like a circus.

she sniffles and nods slowly, she pulls her head out of the couch cushions and moves towards him on the couch, burying her face into his neck and just hugging him. he keeps rubbing her back and holding her close like he did before, “your so good at your job, you care so much. but you need to let things go, breathe.” he says calmly into her hair.

“trust me,” he continues. “in my job if you take things home from work. it will literally kill you and drive you crazy.” he says with a small snort as he shakes his head. “but your doing what you love and it’s great. you need to let things go when it’s necessary.” he whispers into her hair, rubbing her back and pressing a small kiss into the crown of her head.

“i can’t let you destroy and work yourself up, that beautiful brain is amazing when it’s working properly. i need to hear my girlfriends random facts about viruses.” he chuckles into her hair, trying to cheer her up. which seems to work because she muffles a small laugh into his shoulder.

“see, even you know i’m right.” he says softly into his hair, patting her back gently. she pulls her face away from his neck after soaking it with some tears. “your always right.” she groans as she wipes at her eyes with her hoodie sleeves.

“i’m not always right, i’m just lucky.” he says softly as he looks over her features with a small smile, rubbing her back as best as she can to calm her down. she rolls her eyes and moves towards him, pressing her lips to his slowly.

he keeps a firm hold on her back and hips, kissing her slowly and gently back as he tastes the saltiness of her tears on her lips. these moments with her are probably the best in his mind, he gets to hold her close, rub her back and kiss her.

he wouldn’t trade anything for this. he’s certain.

two days later, they were snowed in.

it had snowed about 18 inches in the city, and more was bound to come according to the news forecast. even leon, wasn’t going to work. he used his PTO because there was no way he was going out in that.

and she was still trying to argue to go out, to go to the lab and get her work done for the day. her boss even called her and told her the trip wasn’t worth it, to just take the day off.

but she just wasn’t listening.

“please?! i need to go!” she whined at leon as she tried to jump in her snow boots to meet his keys. he was holding her car keys above his head out of her reach. “no fucking way. have you seen the roads, baby? it’s not safe.” he says with a gesture to the window outside.

everything was covered in inches of snow and white. freezing cold temperatures and it just kept falling in fat flakes from the sky. she shook her head in protest, “just give me the keys!” she whined again as she tried to reach on her tippy toes for them.

“no! i cannot believe i’m saying this.” he pinches his brows and looks at her with a hard look, one that he rarely had when it came to her. “your not going to work, it’s unsafe and your boss even told you not to go. so go change into some pjs and sit your ass down and relax. i’m hiding your car keys.” he says firmly as he looks at her, brushing past her to go into their bedroom.

she groans and yells, “your such a buzzkill!”

“i don’t hear you changing or sitting down!” he yells from the bedroom. she groans and stomps her snow boots on the floor like a child, whipping her head to look back out at the window, “stupid snow algae.” she hisses at the dreary weather outside.

eventually, she gave up on the complaining after leon hid her keys and made her get comfortable and relax. they were sitting on the couch an hour later, watching some movie. her body was pressed against his and her leg was wrapped over his legs. “i’m so cold.” she mumbles into his chest.

“baby, we have two blankets around us. you have socks and a sweater on. the heat’s on full blast. what else do you want me to do?” he asks with a small raise of his eyebrows to where she’s cuddled up against his chest.

“i don’t know, make it stop.” she grumbles into his chest as she presses herself closer to him, keeping the blankets adjusted around them on the couch. the movie was playing mindlessly in the background at his point as they kept cuddled up together.

he shakes his head in amusement, “as much as i would love to magically make you not cold anymore. that’s not how it works.” he says softly as he presses a kiss to the top of her hair. she sighs and nuzzles her head deeper into his chest, “just hold me then.” she muffles into his chest.

he looks down at her with a small brow raise. “i am holding you.” he squeezes his arms around her beneath the blankets for emphasis. “not good enough, smartass.” she mumbles into his chest.

he pinches her hip underneath her sweatshirt with his cold hands, she shrieks and bolts upright, smacking him on the chest. he laughs, “your such a jerk!” she shrieks as she tries to move away from him on the couch with the two blankets.

“oh no, get back here.” he says with a small grin, grabbing her effectively and the blankets with her, holding her close to his side on the couch. “i love you too, baby.” he mumbles with amusement as he presses his lips to the side of her head, then her cheek.

causing her cheeks to heat up and flare despite her being cold. she could feel her heart expanding and the muscles expanding.

“your lucky your cute.” she whispers as she just moves back next to him for warmth. he chortles her and presses another kiss to her head. “i’m cute, handsome and i put up with your pain in the ass. i deserve an award.” he says with a proud smile as she looked up at him, her brow raised in amusement.

“there’s no award for that.” she starts as she looks at him, her eyes widening a little at the words he chose. she feels her heart pound faster and faster against her chest.

even after all this time, the intensity from just looking at him never fails to make her heart feel like it’s going to simply explode within her chest. he smirks and obliterates her world view yet again, “i’ll invent one then and give it to myself.”

she’s never going to let him go ever, not in a million years would she do something that stupid with the level of IQ she has.

after the snow continued to fall that day, then the next and it was a full on blizzard, soon enough. they had been kept inside, even their bosses individually kept them out of the streets.

she wanted to argue but there was no point, not at this time. not when leon hid her car keys yesterday. instead of being curled up underneath the blanket pressed so close together, they were both sitting on the couch. leon on one end and her on the other.

she had cracked open a book that she had been wanting to read about fungi cells and leon was just watching the tv at a low volume so he wasn’t disturbing her.

“i can’t believe you’d rather read a book about fungi cells then watch Brooklyn nine-nine with me.” he says with a small shake of his head as he eyes her eyes that swept over each word of the page like it was nobodies business.

“i’m here on the couch with you aren’t i?” she says with a small focused look as she talked and continued reading, flipping a page in her book. he snorts, “that’s not what i meant.”

“do you even know what fungi cells are?” she says with a small raise of her eyebrow in his direction at his end of their couch. he shakes his head, his gaze going back to the tv.

“they’re cells in mushrooms.” he mumbles as if he knows the answer already, she closes her book with a small snap and bookmarks the page, “fungi are eukaryotes and have a complex cellular organization.” she says as seriously as she can.

his brow furrows and he pauses the tv, “i have no idea what that means.” he says with a small sigh as he looks over at her, the book sat in her lap like she was protecting it.

“it means its cells that have very different reproductive properties.” she says as she looks at him with a serious look on her face, like she wasn’t talking about mushroom cells.

his brows furrow even more, what the hell did that even mean? what the fuck is a mushroom doing having sex? he thinks to himself as he shakes his head at her, “i’m still lost.”

she pinches her brows and sighs, “okay, so…” and she begins explaining the cells of a mushroom and in other fungi as best as she can and as simply as she can.

when she finishes he just stares at her and blinks with his blue eyes, “don’t be mad but i zoned out for like half of what you just said.” he says with a small chuckle.

she groans and shakes her head, obviously frustrated, “i’m not explaining it to you anymore. watch your show.” she says in an angry voice as she opens her book back up where its bookmarked and starting to read again.

he clicks his tongue, “no no,” he reaches over and grabs her book, keeping it bookmarked and sitting it on the coffee table in front of them. “i just don’t have a degree in microbiology, baby. my IQ is not…as high as yours.” he says in a soft voice as he rubs a hand over her knee.

she just listens to him, blinking her eyes over in his general direction as she shifts on the couch. “it doesn’t mean i don’t want to understand, god, i would love to understand. i would go back to school and learn everything about microbiology just to talk to you about it.” he proclaims as he looks at her with nothing but love in his blue eyes.

“i would relearn everything and get a degree in microbiology and learn just to understand your work, the books you read and just what it’s like to be inside your brain.” he says softly as he rubs his thumb over her knee, keeping her eyes on his as he speaks with such conviction that it makes her heart want to burst right out of her chest.

“so don’t think for one second that i don’t take interest and tune everything out, i always want to understand and i will spend the rest of my life trying if it means i get to be with you and love you.” he says with a small smile as he feels himself remain breathless in a sense at his own confession.

the words tumbling out of his mouth like he was going on a rant about something, like he was passionate about this. and he was, he needed her to understand.

“the day i met you in that coffee shop, i knew just from looking at that book you were reading…i knew it would be hard. but god, has it been so worth it baby.” he says with a small warmth in his blue eyes that only bloomed for her. the heat from his hand on her knee and the way his words bursted her into flame, it was enough to melt the snow of the blizzard outside.

“everything about you is worth it, even if i don’t understand. i’ll never fully understand but that doesn’t mean i won’t try.” he says with a squeeze to her knee, she blinks up at him and feels her heartbeat accelerating.

“i love you.” she breathes. she had said it to him a million times before in the past two years but it felt like it was needed in this context, like she needed to say this to him. just so that his words that he spoke were not lost on her.

he nods slowly and pulls her closer into his lap, settling his hands over her waist, thumbing at the skin underneath her sweater. “i love you too.” he says softly, “i mean every single thing i just said.” he says gently, his words like a caress and a reassurance that she wasn’t sure she needed until then.

she nods and sighs softly, “i know.” she whispers as she moves her lips to his again, leaning up a little bit from where she was sat in his lap. his thumb sweeping over the skin of her hip, igniting her body into even more flames. she moves her lips over his soft ones, kissing him with intention that wasn’t mindless.

he kisses back, used to the way his lips melded with hers. everything between them, this connection that they had was unlikely. but it was theirs and it went beyond science.

it was love, it was the cells around the hearts they had, the beating of them for only each other. she would kiss him a million times just to prove that point until there was nothing left within her.

until she was just a bunch of frazzled nerve endings, she would kiss him and love him. let him have her in every inch, every scenario and even if the hypotheses was scary and didn’t make sense.

she’d love him unconditionally, the same way he loved her. until both of the cells around their heart fizzled out and died.

she was never letting that go, not now and not in a million years, the probability was there. she didn’t care, not when he loved her and it consumed her in a way that should be studied.

and even if that scared her, she didn’t care. she had him and that was good enough in her heart and brain to keep loving him.

until the cardiomyocytes died out.

an: i hope you liked this, i tried my best to incorporate what you asked for anon :,) had to ask my mom a million questions to get an idea of what i was getting myself into with this oneshot request. but i love you all, please reblog, like and my taglist and masterlist are linked at the beginning. i love you all, kisses. xx. <33

taglist: @heartsforvin @elihii (go to my linked post to join the taglist)

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #re2 leon #leon kennedy au #re2 remake #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leqonsluv3rasks

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kaivenom · 7 months

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Kai Venom's Masterlist

This masterlist will have all of the fandoms and then you can enter the specific one you like.

Having in mind that this blog is relatively new, there will be a lot of blank spaces on the masterlist for now, but i hope that we can fill it up, in some time.

Under the fandom, there will be the characters i write for, but you can always try to request something new (i am full on with surprises).

New fandoms and characters will be added will be added.

Original Writings

HCS for fandoms (new species, cannon world expansions, etc)

OC's

Original writtings ideas, stories and updates

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton

Cobra Kai

Miguel Díaz

Robby Keene

Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz

Demetri Alexopoulos

Johnny Lawrence

Daniel Larruso

Dc Comics

Bruce Wayne "Batman"

Dick Grayson "Nightwing"

Jason Todd "Red Hood"

Damian Wayne "Robin"

Tim Drake "Red Robin"

Conner Kent

Jonathan Kent

Clark Kent "Superman"

Barry Allen "Flash"

Wally West "Kid Flash"

Nate Heywood "Steel"

Rick Flag

Christopher Smith "Peacemaker"

Adrian Chase "Vigilante"

George Harkness "Captain Boomerang"

Billy Batson "Shazam"

Descentants

Ben Florian

Harry Hook

Gil

Carlos D Vil

Jay

Harry Potter World

Harry Potter

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ominis Gaunt

Sebastian Sallow

Garreth Weasley

Heartbreak High

Spencer "Spider" White

Anthony "Ant" Vaughn

Douglas "Cash" Piggott

Malakai Mitchell

Dusty Reid

Jujutsu Kaisen

Itadori Yuuji

Sukuna Ryomen

Nanami Kento

Megumi Fushiguro

Toji Fushiguro

Gojo Satoru

Choso

Julie and the phantoms

Luke Patterson

Reggie Peters

Marvel

Spiderman (the 3 versions)

Miguel O'hara

Steve Rogers "Captain America"

Tony Stark "Ironman"

Quicksilver (the 2 versions)

Peter Quill "Starlord"

Loki

Thor

Bucky "Winter Soldier"

Stephen Strange "Dr. Strange"

Venom/Eddie Brock

Moon Knight

Ciclops

Angel

Havok

One Piece

Monkey D. Luffy

Roronoa Zoro

Vinsmoke Sanji

Ussop

Trafalgar Law

Eustass Kidd

Killer

Dracule Mihawk

Sir Crocodile

Donquixote Doflamingo

Shanks

Smoker

Portgas D. Ace

Sabo

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby

John Shelby

Arthur Shelby

Finn Shelby

Michael Gray

Slashers

Bowers Gang

Ghostface

Sinclair brothers (from House of Wax)

Stranger things

Garreth Emerson

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Gabriel "The Trickster"

Jack Kline

Castiel

The Bear

Carmy Berzatto

Luca

The umbrella academy

Five Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

Vikings

Ivar the boneless

Ubbe Ragnarson

Hvitserk Ragnarson

Bjorn Ironside

Sigurd Ragnarson

#blog intro #introduction #masterlist

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starcurtain · 7 months

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The Kinda Unhinged Ratiorine Fic I Want to Read

In an (admittedly very contrived) AU situation, Dr. Ratio finds out he's about to be cut out of his (mostly estranged) family's inheritance forever because of his complete lack of interest in continuing the family line. Which, all factors considered, does make perfectly logical sense. Investment of capital should go to the branch of the lineage most likely to benefit from it, and Cousin Tiberius has five sons and daughters already. Let the house and the trust fund go to them.

But the library.

There's absolutely no way Veritas could bear to be permanently parted from the staggering assemblage of paper volumes under his collected family's auspices. Not only would being separated from tomes so full of memories be heart-wrenching, but think of the devastating blow to his research! There are records in those archives that no other mortal eyes have ever gazed upon!

So there's only one solution for it: He needs to pass on his family name, immediately.

(Andddd the rest is under a read more because what is brevity?)

Problem 1: Veritas Ratio is very gay.

Problem 2: Statistically, single men have the lowest chance of being selected for adoption placement, and this Child Welfare Agent is looking at his alabaster head very, very strangely.

Think, Ratio, think. What is the most efficient way to solve such a tedious quandary?

The obvious first step is to increase his likelihood of being selected by the adoption agency, and the quickest way to do that is... Eureka! How elegant a design! He just needs to enter into a (temporary) committed and stable partnership to demonstrate a degree of domestic dedication and home-building prowess!

Problem 3: ...Where in the universe is he going to find a stable and committed man willing to marry him?

Ratio does not exactly possess the world's most endearing personality. He might... never have had any form of romantic relationship lasting past a one-night stand even, because it turns out most people don't like being scored a 2/10 on their technique during intercourse.

So he's probably not going to find a stable and committed man.

But... He might at least find someone willing--for the right price.

Enter Aventurine (stage left). He's as expensive as they come, the greatest reward saved for the highest bidder, but despite his festering ambitions, he's still trapped as nothing more than a high-class escort, owned by a company the IPC has on the books as selling everything but what they actually trade in: Avgin slaves.

Sigonians... The reputation--and sleazy men's curiosity--precedes him, and though he only has to get on his knees for the truly bold nowadays, he hasn't yet been able to make the ultimate gamble, pull the last string needed to finally gain his freedom: the freedom to live his life as he pleases--and to enact every ounce of vengeance he's been storing for decades like cards up his sleeves.

Until now.

Until an absolute madman shows up at the underground headquarters waving around an offer that no average person would possibly make: He wants to buy Aventurine and wed him.

(Because marrying a Sigonian thrall is a safe and sane thing that safe and sane people do.)

The offer is far too good to be trusted: A real marriage certificate but a perfectly fake marriage, a no-fault divorce once an adoption is finalized, and a guaranteed sponsor for his citizenship documents. A year or two of fake homemaking, this Veritas Ratio claims, and then Aventurine can walk away a completely free man, no strings--no chains--attached.

Well, Aventurine of the Myriad Stratagems has always held one skill dearer to his heart than any other: a crystal clear knowledge of when to fold--and when to go all in.

(...Problem 4: Amber Lord help him, Aventurine's new husband is the most irritating man in the entire universe.)

Alas, if only that was their biggest problem. Somewhere between learning to navigate the citizenship process, the adoption process, a truly unacceptable level of systemic racism, and also, increasingly, each other, Ratio and Aventurine discover that the circumstances of their lives might be far more entangled than they ever could have imagined from the beginning, and the same shadowy parties that profited off Aventurine's existence might have a vested interest in parting Ratio from valuable research secrets--permanently.

While struggling to maintain a charming and loving facade and struggling not to kill each other behind the scenes, Aventurine and Ratio also end up having to out-roll and out-plan a particularly dangerous enemy; something they can really only do together.

Or, tl;dr: Dr. Ratio chooses the most efficient but most unhinged method of finding a husband that intelligence could possibly contrive, only to determine that marrying a guy whose track record for unexplained deaths matches his track record for card counting really is the encyclopedic opposite of "committed and stable." Ridiculously enough, the trouble they get into is almost entirely Ratio's fault, the only one who is remotely convincing in front of the Child Welfare Agency is Aventurine, and sometimes it turns out the guy you married for the library ends up being the guy you married for life.

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lazyneonrabbitt · 1 year

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Bears on the road

Literal translation of a Dutch figure of speech, meaning ‘to see problems way bigger than they actually are’, usually with a lot of stress beforehand that in hindsight wasn’t needed.

Carmen Berzatto x Reader [pt.2]

Talk of anxiety attacks and getting rid of them. Reader's first three visits to The Beef.

~~☆☆☆~~

You had been at The Beef four times before ending up in Carmen’s apartment.

The first time was years ago on a trip.

Your companion had taken you there and you had the best food of the entire trip that day and the pretty guy behind the counter tried to flirt with you. Mikey, you thought his name was.

The second time was now that you had returned to the area for your studies.

The ratty ass building you live in was horrible, but the only place you could afford for now. You remembered the place and decided to go look if it was still open, and luckily it was.

There was a different guy behind the counter this time, who greeted you ..loudly. Going up to the counter you ordered a sandwich and sat down, pulling out your laptop to get some work done. It sucked that you had to get such a huge file ready to present on your first day, and with you such a perfectionist you started immediately when you got the welcome assignment. You had everything sorted out neatly into folders, your full project file over twenty-five pages long and every bit of source material carefully and properly linked. Since it would be too difficult moving your entire desktop setup across states you had gotten your current, high-end laptop and uploaded every last bit of your project to your Drive account that had been your saving grace more than once over the years. While you waited for your food to be made you decided to read over some parts of your file again to check for any spelling mistakes seeing you didn’t actually have to download the file to preview it. Opening your Drive account and heading over to the right folder and tap the file to open it, only for your reflection in the dark mode text previewer to stare back at you. The small window in he middle of your screen popping up, reading “File cannot be opened. Corrupt Data.”

Eyes wide, the words glare back at you. CORRUPT DATA. No fucking way. FILE CANNOT BE OPENED. You checked the upload, it finished all the way.

You try again. The same error staring at you, screaming at you CORRUPT DATA. FILE CANNOT BE OPENED. Shit. Shitshitshitshit. The words became blurry as tears welled in your eyes, breathing becoming more and more difficult with every count of days, weeks, months even, you spent working on this huge thing that was due in two days.

You didn’t even notice the man at the counter calling out for you to come grab your sandwich. Didn’t realize he had gotten away from said counter with a plastic tray containing your sandwich until he placed it on your table a little too loudly. The harsh, sudden sound caught you so off guard it kicked the oncoming panic attack info full gear.

The man quickly shot into action, sitting down, a hand on your shoulder trying to get you to look at him and tell him ..something, anything. But he really had no clue how to handle this.

“Cousin!” He called out, but not before turning away from you as o not yell directly at you. No response. “Help!” He added after a short, but according to him, too long moment.

His hand kept rubbing small circles on your shoulder, hoping he was at least doing something for you.

“shit,” You heard another voice, slightly further away. “Richie go grab her some water.” And the hand on your shoulder disappeared and the man, Richie, was replaced by the other one with the soft but direct sounding voice. This one didn’t immediately try to touch you, first hovering his hand above yours, carefully giving you a moment to shuffle away if you needed and only after you didn’t, take your hand and slowly move it away from you. “Can you breathe with me?” He was a lot calmer than counter guy. Name, what was it again? Water, yeah he got you water. You needed water? With your hand being moved by the new person, stopping you from completely clenching your arms around yourself you slowly moved your head upwards, breathes still erratic and difficult. You were staring at your hand now, well, a rough, tattooed hand that was holding yours. “Hey,” again that softer voice. “Squeeze my hand if you hear me.” Squeeze his hand. Yes. You did as he said and he took his other hand to the fold of your elbow, placing a single finger on your skin. “Breathe with me,” he took a loud, deep inward breath as he brushed his finger over the length of your forearm down to your wrist, and again a loud, deep outward breath while dragging his finger back up your arm. “Can you do that?” You squeeze his hand to say yes and close your eyes completely again to try and focus. He repeats his previous motions, breathing together with the movement of his finger on your skin. It takes some time but after a bit your breathing has evened out, just some sniffles left that would fade later as well.

You hadn’t dared to look up yet out of embarrassment but you really wanted that water now. The counter guy brought you water. You swore you could drink an entire ocean. Oceans not even as blue as the eyes staring back at you right now. Wow what? Who? You blinked a couple of times to really come back to earth after everything and now those eyes were clearly a part of a very cute guy with messy curls and a smile that could cure anyone’s bad day. “Welcome back.” Already he was holding out the glass of water to you, motioning that you should really drink something now that you calmed down and you did. You gulped down the whole glass before setting it down and seeing your forgotten, now cold sandwich. You frown at the wasted food as your stomach grumbled. The man followed your gaze and quickly figured out the source of your frown, easily coming up with a solution.

“You still hungry? I’ll go get you a new one.” He got up from the chair he had pulled up beside you, straightening out his apron. “On the house, yeah?” With half a turn and a hand motioning towards the door leading to the kitchen he looked at you waiting for an answer before walking off as you nodded, agreeing with the new sandwich.

By the time he came back you had put away your laptop, not wanting to deal with it anymore and focus on the food.

He lingered for a moment, making sure he caught your first bite, and how glad he was he did stay as your eyes widen with that first bite, looking down at the sandwich in your hands in disbelief. You looked up and caught him staring, covering your mouth with one hand holding back a laugh with your mouth still full. You made haste chewing and swallowing it down. “Holy shit,” You exclaim, pointing at the food in your other hand. “This is insanely good.” A small bow as thanks was given before he slipped back into the kitchen.

You kindly bring back your trays and one cold sandwich from earlier and et them on the counter before saying goodbye and making your way to the front door until a voice calls you back.

Moving rom behind the corner, you’re handed back the sandwich, wrapped up in to-go paper. “Take it, i promise you it still tastes amazing when you microwave it.” You accept it and put it in your bag with a thank you. "Oh, by the way," he continued again. "You had that shit on Drive or whatever it's called, right? Why not call whoever has your stuff on their computer and put it up again? That's how that shit works right?" Even though his advice came out as a string op questions you couldn't believe you hadn't thought of that. You thanked his again and this time really make your way out of the door, grabbing your phone and dialing home.

You were definitely coming back to The Beef.

The third time you came in was after your introduction day that went exceptionally smooth after fixing your file issue with Richie’s advice.

You debated going in since you could barely afford rest and instant noodles this month, let alone one of The Beef’s amazing sandwiches that you had been craving all day. You were absentmindedly walking back to your apartment, except somehow your legs had let you to where your stomach craved to be and had you standing in front of the restaurant instead.

With a sign you walked in and were immediately greeted by Richie. He smiled and recalled your order from last time with a raised eyebrow and a finger pointed at you in question. “Hi, yeah that’s right.” You smile back, walking up to the counter. “So, I wanted to thank you for last time. That calling home idea of yours was, it fixed my problem. They uploaded everything again and it worked. So, thanks.” You fished some money from your wallet and put it on the counter, paying for the order he had technically placed for you.

You weren’t sure if he was working today, so you asked Richie to thank Carmen for showing you his way of calming down. Since there was no one at the register you told him how you managed to keep a full blown panic attack at bay with it. Richie only smiled at your story before he was calling over his cousin once again, who had already realized you were there because of the little note that was left on the order receipt and he had taken it upon himself to bing you your sandwich so he could see how you were doing.

You ended up sitting together at your table, you enjoying your sandwich and Carmen enjoying your storytelling. He ended up sitting with you throughout his entire break, sans smoking time and you parted ways again. Him retreating back to the kitchen as you placed your empty tray back on the far end of the counter, Richie sending a knowing wink your way with a nod towards the kitchen. You rolled your eyes at him as you went on your way.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: I promise I have no clue how do write panic attacks so I apologise if its all fucky!! Part two is being written already so, hopefully soon~

#sometimes i write #the bear #fx the bear #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine

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