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chunkitakii · 2 days ago

Note

Hi there! I just wanted to say how much I enjoy your fics! I just cannot get enough of them! I was wondering if you might consider writing some nsfw dealing with a jealous and possessive lux after he secretly watched you get flirted on??? Thank you!!

This is going to be an interesting one!

These two asks have similar topics, so imma just sum them ip into one story.

(p.s. IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOY READING THEM! <3)

(A/N) SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT YA'LL. I had taken a break from writing to do personal biz. But I'm backk!!!

WARNING: This contains men not taking no for an answer, implied sexual harassment if you squint, creepy men, Lux being protective of you, fear play???, bondage, and Lux taking his anger out on you (sort of).

NSFW UNDER CUT

Lux seeing you get flirted on is like an angry bull seeing red.

If you grew up watching old cartoons, you would know what they would look like when they are mad. (They look deranged and rabid in a nutshell.)

So just imagine seeing a crazy Mr. Ring A Ding, ready to tear whoever’s head off.

But even AFTER he is done dealing with said person, don’t think you’re off the hook.

This toon is going to make sure everyone who comes in and out of that theater knows that you belong to someone else.

After cleaning up the hallways, you mentally prepared yourself to clean up the theater. You watched as many people walked out with their family, friends, or spouses. And there was a hand full of them.

Good thing this was the last showing of tonight…

Sighing, you stepped in the theater to clean up their spilled popcorn and such. Thankfully, there wasn’t much. But you did notice an unfamiliar man standing just before the entrance.

Maybe He had forgotten something, like a wallet or watch of some kind. It didn’t matter; they can just come back tomorrow if you find it.

You huffed through your nose as you went up to the front of the theater and began to sweep up the popcorn, but you couldn’t even go the first sweep without the man’s obnoxiously loud voice going through your ears.

You looked to see what the ruckus was about, but you only saw the man looking at you, then back to the entrance of the theater. It was like he was making sure the two of you were alone.

You would look up into the projector room for Mr. Pye, but he was already gone to do other business. Making you and this man alone in this theater, together...

You glanced back at the man before you; you saw a stern look on his face as he stared at you. Soon, the man was now walking towards you.

Now you were annoyed. You have a job to take care of and would be damned if some man bothered you about some refund or something.

You secretly rolled your eyes and continued to sweep. “Listen, if you want a refund, go to the front desk. It’s not my job to give you one.” You told them with an annoyed tone.

“That’s not what I'm here for…” One man rasped it out. But instead of hearing his voice from near the entrance of the theater, he sounded closer, way closer.

You jumped and looked up, seeing the same man who glared at you get closer and closer. He suddenly and forcefully backed you up and into the stage, caging you in with both arms as he loomed over you. It made you drop the broom; you heard the clank of it hitting the ground somewhere. But you were too scared of what this man would do next.

He now had a smirk written across his face, looking like he wanted to eat you whole. You could almost smell the cologne he wore from how close he was.

"Excuse me, what are you—" "Calm down, I'm not here to hurt you or anything." His deep voice rasped out, cutting your sentence off rudely. You glared up at him, trying to size him up. But to him, you just looked cuter than ever.

His eyes scanned down to your form, scanning for a ring or anything that indicated that you were taken. But he had seen nothing.

"I don't see a ring or anything. You single?..." The man asked, trying to make known what he was asking.

His response had shocked you; did he want to take you out or something? Not many people did that to you, so you couldn't help but feel your face warm up at his question, and your hands fumble against eachother.

And for some reason, when you think your ears have started to deceive you. You heard a low, low growl. A growl that had sounded all too familiar. But you didn't have time to pay attention to it; you had something else to take care of.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and collected yourself. You rolled your eyes, trying to show him that you weren't interested. "No, I'm not. Now leave me be." You shoved him away from you and headed to the exit of the theater.

You were with Lux; you weren't going to throw your relationship away for a jackass who doesn't know anything about personal space.

But before you could even get a couple of steps in, you were suddenly grabbed and yanked towards another form. You can now smell that guy's cologne; you were now pressed torso to torso with this man.

His hand still held your arm while the other was occupied in pressing your waist up against his. Your everything was touching his; you felt yourself cringe from how close you were.

"Come on, they don't have to know. This can be our little secret, right?-" "I appreciate your offer, but no! Now, get your grimy hands off of me!" You grunted out as you pushed him as hard as you could, but that only made him hold onto you tighter. What made the last straw break was when his hands began to go lower than you liked.

And that had done it with you and a certain someone else. And all you had to do was yell out his name. “Lux!-”

You didn’t even have to finish his name on order for him to go for your protection. Lux had already had enough of this…

You heard the sound of someone whistling, trying to call in something. Suddenly, you were ripped from the man's arms, thankfully. Film strips wrapped around each part of your body; it wasn’t rough, but enough pressure to lift you in the air and pull you back. Yet you still yelped in surprise at the sudden action caused by Lux’s wonderful ladies.

The man that once held you against your will was too grabbed by the filmstrips. But instead of it being soft like how they were with you, they were rough and careless with him. They yanked him above the ground and threw him far away from you. You could hear him yell out in pain as he hit the ground.

Looking around, you finally spot Lux. And oh boy, how he looked pissed…

He almost looked crazy from the way he looked. Puffs of air blew out from his nose, familiar to a bull. His rubber hose pupils were now only tiny dots, showing how pissed he was.

Lux had seen enough of this man and you. He had hid well behind the curtains of the theater, watching it all go down. Seeing how this man flirted with you, trying to court you. At first, Lux had wanted to see how you would handle the situation. He had trusted you enough to handle the situation.

But when he saw the way your eyes widened, and your hands fidgeted, and how you didn't maintain eye contact when that man asked you if you were single. That had just made his non-realistic blood boil.

Only he, could make you nervous.

Only he, can make you shy.

Only he, can make you feel that way.

“Get him, girls!” Lux growled out, watching his ladies grab both of the man's hands and pull him up into the air. He was now 7 feet above the ground. The man hollered and grunted as his arms were now pulling on each opposite end of him.

"What the hell!-" "Language!" Lux shouted, voice filled with venom as he watched the man before him struggle with the film strips.

"Now, punk! Didn't your mother teach ya' any respect?" Lux shouted at the man, stomping up to him. You just sat back next to the projector room as you saw Lux question the man.

The man only stared down at him in fear. "What are you?..." The man whimpered. It was almost funny how the man looked, once so confident, now dangling in the air helplessly and afraid.

But Lux ignored his question. He would brag about how he was the god of light, but he had better things to do.

Lux only scowled at him, seeing that this man didn't even answer his question. "Listen here. It seems as if your mother didn't have the guts to teach you some respect. I guess I'll have to do it myself." His remark shocked you, you didn't know Lux would have any disrespect for anyone's mama. He just called him out. You were surprised that the man didn't even bombard him with insults. But hey, it's a first for everything.

You were quickly knocked out of your thoughts as you heard sounds of cracking. And it wasn't the nice kind of cracking; it was the disturbing type. Lux was letting his ladies pull off the man's arms, like they were going to rip them off of him.

You didn't want to see this; you couldn't. As quickly as you could, you ran into the empty projector room. Not wanting to see what had come next...

It had been almost an hour of you hearing the man's screams until you had heard a sudden silence fill the room. Your blood had run cold, and your breath hitched. Lux must have killed that man, ending his misery once and for all.

You tried to hear for anything, whether it was the man's breathing or Lux's. Sure, that man had assaulted you, but sudden death was still a scary thing to you.

"Now, about the other problem... Oh~ Sunshine!" Lux sung out, like he didn't just murder a whole person. But it wasn't Lux's change in demeanor that scared you. It was the way Lux called out for you like the next thing to punish on his list.

Your breath stopped as your head whipped around to the door of the projector room. You watched closely as his shadow slowly became bigger and bigger. Lux was now in front of the door, knocking slowly as if you were going to open the door. You would, but to be honest, you were sort of terrified right now.

"Won't you be a dear and open the door for me? I just want to... talk."

You were about to open the door after he politely asked, but after you heard the way he said the word 'talk,' chills went down your spine.

You tried to find the words to respond to him, but the only thing that was on your mind was that man. "Did...Did you kill that man, Lux?" You muttered out. You could hear the fear in your own voice. But you also couldn't hear Lux anymore, he went quiet.

Lux couldn't help but grind his teeth, at your question. Here you were, thinking of a man who isn't him. He wasn't mad at you, no, he was just disapointed.

"Kill him? Oh me oh my, sunshine! You always come up with the worst scenerios!" Lux laughed off, but you still werent sure of him. "So what did you do with him?" you questioned, still wanting more answers. But what you didn't know is that each answer of that man had iritated Lux even more.

You heard a slight grumble from behind the door, now you started to notice how pissed you were making Lux. Lux gave out a soft sigh before speaking up, trying to keep composer.

"I immortalize him!" to Lux's dismay. "So he could never come out! not for a looong while..." Well, that part wasn't so true. Yes , he did trap him, but that was to save him for later use. Lux still wasn't done with him, not after what he did.

You mentally sighed that he didn't brutally kill that man, and also realived that you didn't have to deal with that man and his corpse to clean up later.

"You seemed a little too jolly about that." You heard Lux, but it wasn't muffled behind the door anymore. Instead, he was right next to you.

You knew Lux was pissed about the whole situation, but you were also sure he was going to take it out on you. Not in a bad way, of course, but in a way that he was trying to get his point across to you. That you were his, and only his.

"I'll give ya' something to let everyone know that you belong to me, and only me..." Lux, would mutter profusely against your skin. He had two things on his mind, and those two things were marking you and letting you know who you belong to.

Lux now grew to a good four feet. It was either because he wanted to size you up or he was so pissed about it that he had grown a couple of feet. But it didn't matter; what mattered is that now Lux had the confidence to manhandle you around.

He was rough, and

It had also given him the size to assault your neck while also giving you harsh, sharp, and quick thrusts inside of you.

Film strips bound your wrists, holding you down roughly to keep you in place on the cold, hard floor. They were tied behind your back, and your ankles were pushed up by the strips, making your legs spread for Lux.

While your limbs were tied up, your neck was the next thing that went.

Film strips grasp just below your jawline, giving Lux room to attack every inch of it as he thrusts harshly into you. But it also held you back from moaning too loudly, so you had to let out pathetic little whines. Every spot of your neck was covered in marks, leaving no room left unexplored. You were pretty sure you had bite marks and bruises all around.

"And yet you smell just like that punk and his cheap, nasty cologne..." Lux growled, now rubbing his cheek against your neck and chest area, making sure to mask his scent over yours and hopefully get rid of it. You whined as his cheek made a slight pressure against the new bruises on your neck, but Lux shushed and cooed at you to silence you.

You could tell his scent pissed him off by the way he pumped himself faster in you.

It made him want to claim you all over again...

You could tell something switched in Lux. You felt his arms slowly slither around your waist. They held you tightly as he adjusted himself, trying to get himself comfortable for what was about to happen in the next few hours.

You then heard a low, low voice speak against your ear. "I should be the only thing that comes to mind these next few hours, got it?"

You don't know how long it has been since then, after all of the positions switched, and the numerous times he made you come, you were pretty sure it had been hours.

You were now a babbling, drooling, crying mess below Lux. You were embarrassed. But Lux didn't care. To him, he was proud of his work. Proud that only he can make you so vulnerable under his hands.

But he'd still tease you just for the fun of it. "My golly, sunshine. You are such a mess!" You heard him chuckle out.

And to think that sack of flesh could do this to you. He couldn't make you cry out his name, he couldn't make you writhe in pleasure, and like hell he would even make you come. That man could never make you feel this way. He could never make you feel what Lux could give you, not even by a long shot.

Lux taunted you, teased you, and did everything in the book to get you where you are now. Making you call out for him and only him. Making your mind only crave him, like he was an everlasting drug that could never fade away. And it is going to stay that way by the time he is done with you.

And the praises he would give you sent pleasure down your body. "Yes, call out to me, my little starlight. You are doing a splendid job for me..." Lux praised as he wrung out another wave of pleasure from you. Sending you to come all over him once more.

Lux was going to break you down until you couldn't even remember your own name. Just him, and only him was on your mind. Lux knew that he was harsh on you, but he wasn't going to back down. Instead, he was just going to praise and cheer you on, keeping you in this state for another hour or two until he was sure you had had enough.

Yea, Lux is going to tear you to little peices until you only can only think about just him.

He's possesive and obsessive when it come to you and others. Like hell someone is going to ask you out or flirt with you.

And at the end of the day, Lux is going to be your number one one way or another.

#doctor who mr ring a ding #mr ring a ding #mr ring a ding x reader #doctor who lux imperator #lux imperator #lux imperator x reader

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juicerca · 8 hours ago

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“make me dizzy,, ₍^. .^₎⟆

sylus x reader ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

a/n : i got a fever too. me and xavier synched up like we on our periods together (WHICH IM ON </3) or some shit. my nose is stuffy and my body is burning 😭 !!!!! sylus fever fluff written to comfort my pain. just a short lil thing <3 SUPER SHORT </3333 cus my brain is broken and ill and i have an exam in two days WAAAA

synopsis : f!reader gets sylus to cool her down when her fever gets too unbearably hot by calling him over

content : pure fluff/comfort fic. i can't bring myself to write sylus angst (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) also sorry i keep writing MC in pathetic situations. i love girlboss MC as much as the next girlie i SWEAR, mc is cat-like/a little spoiled AGAIN (sylusMC is SOOO CATTY TO ME)

pet-names : kitten, sweetie, cutie, princess,

word count : 642

₍^. .^₎⟆ ⋆ 🐾 °

you lay in his (basically yours at this point) black silk sheets, tossing and turning, kicking your feet in nothing but a small black vest and your underwear. no matter how much you shimmied around, your feet felt hot, your entire body burned with a heat that made your sweat feel unbearably lukewarm and sticky on your skin.

the sheets were most definitely damp from all the cold (now room temperature) towels that you had used to try to cool your body. but to no avail. nothing was making it more bearable. 5 cool towels around your neck just didn't cut it.

and so, you crawl across the endless expanse of bedding to grab your phone (with some difficulty). there was only one person you wanted to see you like this.

you spam him with this sticker about 10 times before the three dots finally appear. you wait for two seconds...five...ten...god why is this message taking so long? you grumble, huffing with his pillow tucked under your chin and contemplating throwing your phone against the plush back of his bed.

he calls you before you manage to hurl your device,

"kitten? do you need something? i'm at the store now."

"huh? i thought you said you'd be at an auction?"

he chuckles,

"i was at one. but you only text when you want something... or if you miss me... and considering how you're in my room and i saw you this morning, i assume it's the former. though i'd be very flattered if it was the latter."

"i also text when i see something that reminds me of you."

"that fits into the latter." he smile through the phone. you can faintly hear the bustle of the convenience store as well.

"...i feel a fever coming on. can you get me some ice cream?"

"got it. what else?"

"i want you..." you mumble into his pillow, feeling sluggish.

"..."

"respond..." you whine close to tearing up.

but before you can pick up more of a fuss, he's already next to the bed with a grocery bag in one hand and his phone in the other and his evol swirling around him.

not really thinking, you immediately go to nuzzle your heated face into his tummy. it's not really that comfortable, and you brush against the cold metal of his zippers that scratch at your face. but, nonetheless, it's just what you needed. he always is.

he puts away his phone and the bag onto the floor, gently carding through your hair and his voice a soft rumble,

"hi sweetie... want your ice cream now?"

"later..." you take his hands, putting them on your face in a happy mewl, "so cool..."

"aren't you just a cutie? does my princess want me to cool her down?" he smiles, sliding one hand down to your sweltering neck. you exhale in satisfaction, it's a little congested and you look like a sticky mess...but he thinks you're adorable. he always will.

spoiling you was irreplaceable to him. there was nothing in the world more special than the feeling of being your one and only prince, dictated by his only princess. you could have anything you wanted, be as bratty and as demanding as you wanted, surrounded by luxuries and comfort and you chose him to be your supplier and partner in it all. it was undeniably his favourite feeling in the world.

you nod, settling like putty into his large hands. gently but surely bringing you back to a comfortable temperature. as you drift off, you hear him softly humming to you a lullaby. something familiar but yet not quite. he might not have ever experienced the song in his own childhood, but everything he found beautiful and comforting was something he would share with you.

your life adorned in joy and comfort would always be his priority.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

#l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #lnds sylus #qin che #sylus x you #i wanna do more of the spoiled princess mc for sure.... i just think she's so cute <33 also the feeling of being with someone who #can have the best things in life and decides that you're one of the people they enjoy spending time with is such a crazy feeling #like a pretty girl who scans the room and decides that im still the person she wants to spoil her. even if im not the richest or #hottest person in the room. like im HER prince. she dgaf about anyone else! she said that im the only one worthy of spoiling her! type shi #like the feeling of being picked by a stray cat #also im sorry that i keep adding random sylus thoughts into my fics. like just a random paragraph of him lovebombing #it makes the fic substantially longer....#but like i enjoy how it characterises the way i see the two of them?? idk its probably annoying LMAO #SORRYYYYY #I JUST CANT HELP MYSELFFFFFF like sylus always sees u so reverently in my mind #he cant help thinking these poetic thoughts even when ur a mess...yk......#ok im going to stop rambling in the tags now #im sorry

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the-s1lly-corner · 2 days ago

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Kissing the male toons

Guys imma be so real idk what to put in these notes esp since I'm writing these posts back to back In one sitting p much- nothing of note is really happening but I hate leaving it blank

Notes: gn toon reader, can be either pre or post game, short and sweet, written on computer, blot isnt here- at the time of writing this hes only been out for a few hours, blot will get his own post later

CWs: none

BOXTEN

honestly its going to take a long... long time... for him to grow fully confident in kissing you- he just doesnt want to be weird about it or think he doesnt really... know what hes doing

he was hopeless in the beginning so youd have to take charge, but he does get the hang of things after a while, trust!

definitely the type to squeeze his eyes shut really tight, and waaaay too early... might smack his face against yours... likes kissing you where you like to be kissed- just say where!

COSMO

similarly to cosmo he prefers if you told him where you want to be kissed- he doesnt have anywhere in specific where he likes to aim! well... okay thats not entirely true, he does like giving you kisses on the cheek when his hands are busy

he... of course... smells and tastes like chocolate- dont bite him though because hes... probably not going to let you get close enough to do it again if its like... an earnest attempt to get some of his face

he doesnt like kissing you when theres other people around- hes shy about PDA, but he doesnt mind giving you a peck when theres people around hes close with

FINN

the quickest way to make him shut up is to pepper his face with kisses- hes going to be so taken aback that it makes him cut the puns... and it works everytime! definitely has that sheepish dorky string of giggles the entire time

he sometimes gets a little too excited and clinks his glass against your teeth and it... hurts... obviously... he always always always feels awful for it- you dont think youve ever heard someone shoot out such a quick string of apologies

as mentioned in the pocky post his mouth is kinda... 2d... the best he can do is press the location against you and make a sound

GLISTEN

again, hes another one with the "2d mouth" problem- but he only makes the "mwah" sound if youre having a bad day and need something extra- just to get a smile out of you

thankfully though he doesnt clink you with his glass- hes far more careful and he doesnt want to ruin his makeup either! and he doesnt mind kissing around others all that much, its just a peck its nothing scandalous

likes being kissed on the back of his hand... makes him feel a certain way.. special... hes not picky when it comes to your affection but the hand kisses always make his heart flutter

GOOB

definitely giggles into the kiss- sometimes it can be hard to have a more serious intimate moment but hes just so cute... you can never really be angry over it! 100% if he had a tail it would be wagging like mad behind him

you have to mind his teeth though, youve definitely been left with at least one nick on your lips... never enough to bleed but its definitely something to watch out for

he loooooooooves wrapping his arms around you during kisses- and he loves all sorts of placements. forehead, cheek, mouth, ect. youre sure if he wore lipstick youd be painted in his preferred color within a few short minutes

LOOEY

poor thing... another 2d mouther... he'd be an awkward kisser anyway, he doesnt want to be too much but he doesnt want to make you think hes not into it- its best you show him what you want

he does think its a little funny if you lightly squish his head in your hands when you cup his cheeks for the kiss- it doesnt really bother him since its never a tight squeeze, he sees the humor in it

....he does smell like a balloon though... rubber... latex... hopefully you dont mind the smell all that much, especially so up close

RAZZLE

love love loves giving you a kiss on the cheek whenever he sees you! its quick, so its so much easier for him to give you one in passing when he and dazzle need to be somewhere quick

he likes to kiss you as a greeting and parting, hes a bit corny but sometimes a kiss is so much more welcoming than simply saying hello!

and if you asked him where he preferred to be kissed hed tell you where ever you think feels right... in reality he loves getting forehead kisses

DAZZLE

he likes kissing the back of your hand, its a little more... intimate... but its sweet, and he likes taking his time with it... though that does deny him the chance to really give you some loving in passing like razzle does

he also does the hand kisses as a greeting and parting- he was... a little shy and clunky about it in the beginning but its become so natural by now that you instinctually offer him your hand the moment youre within each others bubbles

he likes... being kissed on the cheek... its nice... he doesnt like pda all that much though...

RODGER

he has no mouth so he needs to be a little creative about it... and creativity stops short in the form of simply pressing where his mouth would be to you. he unfortunately does not make a "mwah" sound he doesnt really see the point in it nor does it cross his mind

LOVES "kissing" the back of your hand and knuckles, and he will maintain eye contact as he takes your hand in his to get the act done

he doesnt really like pda though- he likes to maintain some look of professionalism in front of the others... and there arent many places on his face to kiss him... :(

SHRIMPO

he thinks its stupid.

anyways hes definitely the type to roughly grab you and slam himself against you- not all that pleasant actually. your teeth knock up against each other and it hurts. he smells like shrimp. kinda of sweaty too. not surprising considering hes always fuming. hes really rough too and it all happens so fast that youre kind of left reeling as he storms off

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monamedeiros12 · 6 hours ago

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All Roads Lead to Texas

ALERT: ROAD TRIP WITH JOEL. I REPEAT! ROAD TRIP WITH JOEL MILLER!!!!!!!!!

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: When a two-day trip to Texas gets interrupted by a broken-down car, you find yourself in a stranger’s truck — with no choice but to trust him, and nothing to do but talk. After deep conversations, bad jokes, and slow-burning flirtation, the line between strangers and something else begins to blur.

Words: 4k

Warnings: age gap (unspecified), a little bit of teasing. Yeah, that's it... for now. (smut, but not in this chapter. patience is a virtue!!!)

A/N: Guuuuysssssss I'm back. I'm sorry it took me so long to write this, blame my busy week at college. This story will probably have three parts, the second one is already written, I'll correct the mistakes and post it, so stay tuned and let me know if I should tag you in the taglist, okay?

Please let know if you enjoyed this one!!

part two (coming soon)

“No. No, no, no, no. Come on, don’t do this to me.”

You could feel the engine dying. You pressed the accelerator, but nothing happened. You were fucked.

“Fuck!” you hit the steering wheel with both hands and let out a tired breath.

Now, you were in the middle of nowhere, with a broken car, and still far away from your destination.

But apparently it was your lucky day, you can see a gas station up ahead. The car would just have to survive for two more minutes.

When you pull over in one of the parking spaces, you finally get out of the car and open the hood, hoping to find where the problem was and pray that it would be something easy to fix, otherwise you would lose a trip of two days.

However, it was worse than you thought. The engine was fucked, and even though you didn’t understand much about cars, you knew engine problems weren’t the easiest to fix.

You look around, trying to think of a solution, but there is nothing nearby, just the road, and the gas station you’re currently on.

You reach for your phone and call for a tow, because really, what else can you do? You wished there were a mechanic nearby, but that’s clearly not an option.

A very nice lady picks up the phone and you explain the situation, she says that someone will arrive in forty minutes and that you should stay where you are.

Okay, it could be worse. You were on the road for ten hours already, but now with the car fucked, you had no idea what you should do. Probably just hope that the tow truck wouldn't take you the whole way back. Maybe they could rent you a car or something.

While you waited, you went to the bathroom, ate something from the convenience store, and sat back in your car, a low tune playing on the radio. The weather was quite hot — the shorts and tank top you were wearing were the perfect fit. You’d chosen the most comfortable clothes you owned because you knew it was going to be a long, tiring trip.

Thirty minutes passed. Then forty. Still nothing. You decide to go outside and wait there, see if you could spot something on the road. After a while, a truck pulled in. The guy who climbed out was stupidly hot — like, unfairly so. He moved with the kind of quiet confidence that made people turn their heads without knowing why. Broad shoulders, strong hands, a slight scruff on his jaw. Not trying to impress anyone — just existing. And somehow, that was worse.

You try to look away and not look like a weirdo, but you can’t avoid it — the way he moves, literally just his movements, were hypnotizing. The muscles in his arms flexed as he turned, reaching for the hose to fuel the truck.

He met your eyes for a second and nodded gently. No smug smile, no raised eyebrow, nothing at all. Just something quiet and kind in the way he acknowledged you.

You nodded back and looked away, a little embarrassed to be caught staring.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you hear suddenly, and look his way to make sure that is to you who he’s speaking to.

“Well, kind of,” you start, a little surprised that he actually spoke to you. “My car just broke, I’m waiting for the tow truck.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s some bad luck. You live nearby?”

You can’t help but let out a mocking laugh. “Definitely no. I live in L.A.”

A whistle comes out of his mouth. “Wow, and what are you doing here? Do you even know where you are?”

“Yes, I do,” you let out a short laugh. “Was planning on visiting my sister in Texas, so I decided to do the trip by car. It was the wrong choice, as you can see” you nod your head toward the car.

“Where in Texas?” he asks. Finishing up the fill-up.

“Austin.”

When the words left your mouth, you finally see the tow truck arriving. Not catching the guy’s reaction.

“Finally.” you murmur, more to yourself.

The guy driving the truck come out and asks, “Who’s the one with the broken car?”

“That would be me.” He looks over at your car as you pointed it out. He asked a few more questions about how it all went down, and you explained everything — including your sister’s story and whether they might have a rental car available.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. At least not anywhere close. The part of our company responsible for rentals is in California — you’d have to go back either way.”

Your expression fell. Now it was definitely worse than you thought.

“I can take you there,” the man who had been fueling his car suddenly says. “To Austin. That’s where I’m headed too.”

You give him a confused look, choked by his proposition. You didn’t even notice that he was listening to your conversation.

You hesitate, unsure about what to say. It was tempting, sure — but for all you knew, he could be a serial killer with good manners.

And as if he could read your mind, he says, “I’m not a sociopath.”

“Well, if you were, you’d never admit it.” You shrug, still observing him.

“Fair enough. Should I pinky promise? Just so you know, I don’t break those.”

You look at him with a brown raised, a small smile on your lips.

“Actually, that’s a great idea.”

You glanced at the guy taking your car and told him you’d pick it up when you were back from your trip in a week. He agreed, but before he left, he glanced at the man and then back to you, clearly referring to the whole situation of going off with someone you didn’t even know.

“Are you sure?”

You glance over at the mysterious man, and something about him told you it was okay. You couldn’t quite say what it was, but you had the feeling he wasn’t dangerous at all. Maybe it was his thick accent, making it clear he was indeed from Texas.

“Yes, I’m sure…”

He agreed and got ready to leave. You take your things from the truck and walks in the direction of the handsome man, a curious smile on your face. “Alright, pinky promise moment.” You lift your pinky, and he quickly intertwines his with yours, a half-smile forming on his mouth.

“I promise I’m not going to kill you. And not put you in any danger. And get you safe and sound to your sister’s house.”

“Okay, I can work with that.” You smile, squeezing his fingers.

He helped you put your handbag in the back of the truck and told you to get inside the car.

The first thing you notice when you get in the truck is his scent—faint, but everywhere, clinging to the air like it belongs there. It throws off your train of thought for a few seconds before you manage to focus again

“I hope it’s not too late to ask — are you a good driver? It’s a long road,” you asks, putting on your seatbelt.

He laughs, turning on the car. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m a good driver.”

Okay, you need to admit. Him, calling you sweetheart with his thick southern accent? Dangerous.

“Glad to hear it,” you answer, rolling the window down, feeling the hot summer breeze in your hair. “So, do you always give rides to strangers, or is today a special occasion?”

“Only when I forget how many horror movies start like this. Usually I just leave people on the road,” he says with a sarcastic tone.

You laugh, staring at him and noticing a faint smile on his lips as well.

You take a look around his truck then, and you notice right away how careful he is with it. The car was extremely clean and not messy at all. That said a lot about what kind of person he was… Or maybe he just liked to kill his victims in an organized space.

“Be honest, how many women have you rescued like this?”

“Including you?” he glances quickly at you, “One.”

“You expect me to believe that? You definitely look like someone who’s rescued a damsel or two.” you add, playfully.

“You think I do this all the time? Must be the flannel. Gives off that reliable guy vibe.”

And yeah, he was right. That blue flannel definitely gave off hot, protective, and unexpectedly kind vibes.

You were back on the highway now. It didn’t take long to realize he wasn’t lying—he was, in fact, a really good driver. The pace was steady.

“I forgot something.” you suddenly remember.

“What?” he asks, glancing at you with a worried frown.

“What is your name?”

He laughs, clearly not expecting that.

“Yeah, I guess that’s something important to know.” he shakes his head, still smiling, “It’s Joel. Joel Miller.”

“Joel Miller.” you repeat, tasting the name on your tongue.

“What about yours?”

You give him your full name.

“Nice to meet you.” he replies.

You giggle, “Nice to meet you too.”

The sun bathed the car in golden light as you looked out the window, wide-open fields stretching along both sides of the road. It all felt strangely calm.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before Joel reached over and turned on the radio. An old country playlist crackled to life.

“Oh god, is this what we’re doing?” you begin, giving him a judgmental look “Did the car come with a time machine too?”

“What? It’s good music.”

“It’s music for people that collect vinyl and yell at clouds.”

“I do collect vinyl.”

“Oh Lord, I knew it,” you mutter, shaking your head and reconsidering all your life choices. You reached to change the song, but his hand stopped yours.

“Don’t touch that dial.”

“Relax, old man. I’m just trying to find something that was made after 1995.”

“Why? Afraid of hearing real instruments?”

“No. Afraid your taste in music is contagious.”

“You disrespect Willie Nelson again and I’m pulling over.”

“Fine.” You slump into your seat, arms crossed and lips in a pout. “Just know your playlist feels like motor oil and regret.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m already being kind by taking you where you need to go. Don’t push it.”

You glare at him, trying to look upset even though the corners of your mouth were already twitching with a smile.

“So, why did you decide to go to Texas by car?” he asks. And you let out a sigh, thinking about your answer.

You sigh, eyes drifting out the window. “I got fired,” you admit. “I was tired of feeling lost, of not knowing what I’m doing with my life. Thought it might be good for me to go somewhere far, alone. My sister lives in Austin, so... figured it was the perfect time to visit her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” he says gently—and you could tell he meant it.

“It’s okay. The real issue wasn’t losing the job. It’s that I didn’t even care. I didn’t like it. And then I started freaking out, because I’m 26 and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life, you know?”

“Well... if it makes you feel any better, I was 35 when I started my contracting company. Took me years to decide. My brother practically had to drag me into it.”

“Wait—you’re a CEO?”

Joel laughs. “Barely. It’s a small company.”

“Still! That’s amazing. Congrats.”

“Thanks, honey.” He looks flustered for a moment. “But the point is, you’ve got time. You’ll figure it out. I guarantee it.”

“Thanks, Joel. I really hope you’re right.”

“Trust me. Things have a way of working out.”

You smile, touched by how genuine he sounded.

“So, you work with your brother?”

“Yep. He can be a real pain in the ass sometimes,” he says, though there was affection in his voice.

“Let me guess—he’s the younger one.”

Joel glances at you. “How’d you know?”

“You just give off older brother energy.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You live in Austin?” you ask, even though the accent kind of gave it away.

“Yeah. I was in Arizona delivering something for a client. I like long road trips. Whenever I get the chance, I hit the road.”

“I get it. It’s peaceful.”

“Usually, yeah. Except when I find pretty women with broken cars on the side of the road.”

That made you smile—big. He thought you were pretty.

“Oh, I’m sorry I ruined your peaceful trip,” you tease.

“It’s okay. That one’s on me.”

After a few more songs from whatever ancient era his playlist was from, you speak up again.

“So what’s your plan? You gonna drive straight through or crash somewhere?”

“I’m old, darlin’. I need my beauty sleep at some point.”

“I figured,” you laugh, and he grins.

“But if you’re okay with it,” you add, “we can take turns. I drive while you rest and vice versa.”

“That’s a solid plan, but I imagine you’ve been driving for a long time already. And you’re not gonna get any real rest sitting in a car. It’s better if we stop somewhere for the night.”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

“There’s a motel I know. We’ll pull in once it gets dark.”

“Alright. Just... please don’t kidnap me.”

He chuckles. “I told you, I won’t. I fucking pinky promised.”

“I know, I’m just making sure.” you give him a side eye, hiding a smile.

“So, for what you said, you’re not used to doing trips like this, right?”

You shake your head.

“No. It was a special occasion this time. The special occasion being me having an identity crisis.”

“Well, there were worse decisions you could have made. A road trip is actually a great idea.” he answers.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It didn’t go as planned though, because I’m here in some stranger’s car. I was supposed to be thinking about my life. Instead, I’m just talking nonstop.”

“Think on the bright side, you can talk nonstop about your problems.” he suggests.

“You know what? You’re better than a therapist.” you reply jokingly, and Joel laughs. “Do you like your job?”

“Yes, actually. I always liked to build stuff, work with my hands, you know? Starting a company is very challenging, even a small one, but I enjoy it more than I thought I would.”

“I worked at an office, I was an account manager. My job was to keep clients happy, basically. Spent two years of my life in that place…”

“Sound’s a little boring.”

“A little?” you huff “It was extremely boring, that’s why I was so unhappy.”

“And what is something that you always wanted to do? Because I don’t think you always planned to be an account manager.”

You can’t tell what it is about him that makes you feel safe about telling him stuff about your life. Maybe it is the fact that after this you won’t see each other again.

“I wanted to be a photographer.” you say in a low voice, feeling weird about sharing a long forgotten dream.

“And you didn’t try to go in that direction? Or you did and something went wrong?”

You stop to think about the subject. It just always felt like a distant dream. It would be hard, and you’d need a lot of investment, so you never really tried. In your mind, you’re destined to work for the rest of your life at some boring office, with boring people.

“I think I was always scared of the second option. Risking everything, spending a shitload of money on gear just to have it all fall apart halfway through? Yeah, that sounds terrifying.”

“Well darling, welcome to this thing called life.” Joel says with a light tone in his voice.

“Guess I’m just not brave enough for a lot of things.” you admit.

“Courage is something you can build. Look at what you did—you dropped everything and took off on a two-day trip to Texas. Some things went wrong along the way, sure, but you’re handling it. You found a way. And that’s what happens in every aspect of our lives, including risking everything in a new career”

His words hit you deeper than you expected. For a moment, you just sit there, eyes fixed on the road ahead but not really seeing it. Your throat tightens slightly, and you blink a few times, swallowing the lump that formed out of nowhere.

“You okay?” he asks gently, looking at you with a worried look.

“Yeah… I think I really needed to hear this, Joel.”

You look at him, still processing everything, trying to figure out what you’re supposed to do next — but then Joel breaks the silence, his voice gentle this time.

“So… if nothing could go wrong, no risks, no what-ifs… what would your life look like?”

“Well, for starters, I’d live in a beach house with huge windows, drink overpriced coffee every morning, and take pictures of random stuff like tree shadows and rusty mailboxes.”

Joel lets out a deep, genuine laugh, the kind that fills the car like sunlight through the windows. You try to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible—his laugh is contagious, and soon enough, you’re cracking up too.

“I’m serious!” you say, still laughing.

“Oh, I know you are, honey. So, beach house and overpriced coffee is your idea of a perfect life?”

“You forgot the mailbox's pictures, but yeah, basically.”

“Wow, you’re easy to please.” he answers, smiling.

“I’m a simple woman, Joel.” you tease, and he laughs again, clearly enjoying the picture you paint, and for a moment, everything feels easy. The road hums beneath the tires, sun high in the sky, casting warm light over the dashboard. It's the kind of afternoon where time slows down just enough for you to notice how comfortable the silence between you has become.

Three hours drift by with the lazy rhythm of the highway, a mix of soft music, scattered conversation, and the surprising calm of two strangers no longer feeling like strangers at all.

Eventually, you started looking around, suddenly aware of your stomach growling.

“You don’t keep snacks in this thing?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“This isn’t a minivan. It’s not built for snacks.”

“Everyone says that... until they get hungry and start going feral.”

“Are you going feral?”

“Not yet. But if you don’t stop at a gas station soon, I can’t make any promises.”

He glanced at you, amused. “You’re really spoiled, you know that? I offer you a ride out of the kindness of my heart, and now you’re acting like this is Uber Premium. You insult my music, now you’re bossing me around... Honestly, kidnapping is starting to sound like a decent option.”

“You wouldn’t last five minutes with me as a hostage. I talk too much and touch all the buttons. Plus, if you kidnap me, you’re legally responsible for feeding me.”

“Fine. There’s a gas station up ahead. But if you come back with Doritos or some shit that stinks up the truck, I’m dropping you off.”

“You threaten to kidnap me and you’re setting snack rules? You’re terrible at this whole criminal thing.”

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “Guess I need to work on my skills.”

He does as promised. A few minutes later, he pulls into a small gas station just off the highway.

You follow him into a roadside diner that smells like coffee, grease, and something vaguely sweet. The place is cozy in that worn-out kind of way—faded checkered floors, cracked red leather booths, and the hum of an old ceiling fan.

A bell above the door jingles as it shuts behind you, and before you can even look around, a voice calls from behind the counter:

“Well, look who finally decided to stop by again.”

A woman in her thirties, confident and pretty in a tough-love kind of way, walks over with a wide smile—clearly aimed at Joel.

“Thought you’d forgotten all about us,” she says, touching his arm lightly as she hands him a menu.

He gives her a polite smile, the kind that says he’s used to this. “Just passing through, Eve.”

You watch the exchange. She lingers. She glows. He… does not glow back. Still, interesting.

“Well, you know the house. Make yourself at home,” she says, finally turning to you. It takes her a second to notice you’re even there. Her smile tightens, but she says nothing, offering a quick, polite nod.

Joel walks over to one of the booths, and you both slide in—sitting across from each other. He picks up a menu and hands it to you.

“Here. Knock yourself out.”

You raise a brow, not even pretending to hide your amusement.

“What?” he asks, giving you that blank, innocent face.

“So… should I be worried? Is this about to turn into a romantic dinner for three?”

He exhales through his nose, already tired.

“Hardly. She’s just friendly.”

“Friendly?” You scoff. “That woman looked like she was two seconds away from tattooing your name on her apron.”

“Are you jealous, or just bored?”

“Let’s say I’m... entertained.”

“Entertained, huh? That’s the word you’re going with?”

“I like to keep things vague. Drives men like you crazy.”

Joel smirks, eyes narrowing. “You have no idea what that kind of teasing can lead to.”

“Teasing? I’m just making conversation.” You say it with mock innocence, batting your lashes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He leans back against the booth, eyes trailing over you with that amused, knowing look of his.

“Uh-huh. And I’m just a simple man tryin’ to enjoy his meal without gettin’ wrecked by a pair of eyelashes.”

“You know what, Joel? You should admit I made your trip way more interesting.”

“You definitely made it louder.”

You can’t control yourself then, it’s stronger than you.

“Oh baby, I can be a lot louder, but I didn’t think we were doing that kind of trip.”

“Is that so?” he asks and you nod with your read. “Guess I’ll have to see for myself. Though I gotta say, this truck ain’t exactly the best place for that kind of research, but I can figure something out.”

“Jesus, Joel—” you cover your face, laughing in disbelief. “You’re actually saying this.”

“What? You think you’re the only one who knows how to flirt?”

You shake your head, words escaping you. “No, I just—” But you never finish the sentence.

He leans in slightly, eyes still locked on yours. “Careful, sweetheart. You don’t know who you’re playing with.”

Then, as if nothing happened, he looks back down at the menu.

You take the out. You’re not shy, but Joel? Joel is dangerous. And you barely know the man.

“I’ve decided what I want. Is your dear friend coming back to take our order?”

He groans. “Any minute now.”

Sure enough, the waitress returns. You both place your orders, and once she walks away—after way too many glances at Joel—you mutter under your breath:

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be back.”

Joel hears you. “Stop that.”

“What?”

He just gives you a look, one of those that says you know exactly what.

The food comes a few minutes later. You eat in peace for a bit, then ask, “How long were you on the road before you found me?”

“You mean today?”

You nod.

“Eleven hours.”

“Oh my god. Aren’t you tired?” you gasp.

“I’m not that old.” Joel replies, and you laugh.

“That’s not what I meant, Joel. I just—almost fifteen hours on the road? I don’t know how you do it. I was ten in and already ready to quit life.”

He shrugs, taking another bite. “I’m used to it. Like I told you, I do these long trips all the time.”

“Still… your stamina is something else.”

He glances at you. “Yeah, I’ve been told that.”

You arch a brow. So, he does want to play.

“Really? For an old man, I wouldn’t expect you to have that much energy.”

Joel’s smile turns slow and knowing. “I’ve been around long enough to know how to make every second count.”

You press your thighs together, pulse quickening. He looks like he means it—and now, you can’t stop picturing what that might entail. You try to play it off.

“Oh, I see. Hope that’s not just talk.”

He leans back with a smug look. “Guess you’ll never know.”

You glance at his lips. “Guess not,” you murmur.

The tension between you still lingers, thick like smoke in the quiet lull that follows. His words echo in your mind, and for a moment, neither of you says anything—just exchanging glances that feel too loaded for a roadside diner.

After you finish eating, Joel insists on paying for everything, even though you tried to use the “You’re doing enough already, let me have this.” card, but he doesn’t even look at you while you’re talking, just slides his card across the counter like the matter’s already settled.

He grabs a few bottles of water and some snacks—the kind that won’t leave a smell in his truck for the next six months—and tells you to hit the restroom if you need it.

Inside the ladies’ room, you pause in front of the mirror. You look a little tired. And you are.

But this is the first moment you realize something quietly startling:

You don’t want this trip to go by so fast.

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next chapter

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel x reader #pedroispunk #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #road trip #tlou hbo #tlou fic #the last of us hbo #tlou

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lazy-ahh · 1 day ago

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hey guys, just wanted to drop a little note because i feel like i owe you all an explanation (and maybe a bit of a ramble, if that's okay with y'all). sorry for being so inactive lately—life’s just been... a lot. i’ve been stuck in this weird phase where everything feels numb, and no matter how much i want to create, my brain just shuts down the moment i try. opening tumblr feels like staring at a blank wall lately; i’ll read comments and asks, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, but nothing comes out. the words just don’t flow like they used to.

i’ll open a draft, write for maybe 10-15 minutes, then close it, thinking, "i’ll come back to this later." but later never comes, and the guilt piles up. maybe i overestimated myself when i accepted so many requests—back when i was in a better headspace, when writing felt easy and exciting. now, it’s like all that momentum vanished, and i’m left scrambling to catch up. i especially regret taking on the harder prompts, the ones that require a level of creativity i just don’t have right now. it sucks because i know how it feels to desperately want a story to exist, to crave that perfect fic that no one’s written yet. and i hate that i can’t deliver that for you guys right now.

but hey, i will try to write again. it might take time, and i might have to go slower than before, but i’m not giving up. also, funny (or not so funny) thing—some of my friends and one mutual have been talking about how writers are getting accused of using AI lately? like, people are out here assuming fics are churned out by bots just because they’re good or posted quickly. and honestly? part of me is like, "well, guess that’s my excuse to take a break without feeling guilty!" but the other part is just... sad.

it’s weirdly fascinating to think about though, but also heartbreaking. writers pour hours—days, even—into their work, agonizing over every word, only to be met with suspicion. now, whenever i read something amazing, i catch myself wondering, "could AI even come close to this? do I write like AI?? am i... AI?" and the answer is no (i think... i don't know why i'm forcing myself to have an identity crisis HAHAHAH), because there’s something so deeply human about storytelling that a machine could never replicate. from what i've seen anyway, i've never explored the matter yet but i would love to know more about it.

anyway, sorry for the long yap session. i just needed to get this off my chest. i hope you’re all doing okay, taking care of yourselves, and being kinder to your brains than i’ve been to mine. sending you all the hugs, and thank you for sticking around, even when i’m quiet. <3

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emonaculate · 2 days ago

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Emon babbles II...

Woah... you guys loved the first drabble, huh? Honestly, I'm a little shocked at how well it did, considering I only had bits and pieces of a story. Thank you for all the support! I do appreciate all the feedback! Let me know if you'd like a full-fledged fic out of this, or if you'd prefer the drabble format.

Bandmate!Gojo x Readerــــــــﮩ٨ـ

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who is five months out from the infamous Welcome Home Palooza, sits alone in the dim glow of Studio C—his favorite room to rot in nowadays. Being alone in a studio is a hell of a lot easier than interacting with people.

The walls are padded in midnight blue, the air heavy with old smoke and the hum of equipment left on standby. The only light comes from a single desk lamp that flickers sometimes, like even it doesn’t know how to stay steady.

His guitar rests against his thigh, glistening as it mocks him. He plays the same three chords. Again. And again. And again. The tempo is off. The bridge won’t land. The chorus feels cheap. Everything he writes sounds like someone else wrote it. Someone who is trying to make a cheap, straight-to-retail stores' radio cash grab.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who is supposed to be introducing a brand-new song at their biggest show for long-term fans who actually KNOW what his music is supposed to sound like.

A homecoming. A resurrection. Or a slow, public execution. He can’t tell which.

The deadlines are crawling closer. The pressure is a weight in his chest. This is the first palooza he has ever had to do with Geto. Maybe, that's why its so hard for him to come up with new material. He stares at the notebook sitting beside him—blank, accusing, waiting. He’s written nothing. He doesn’t even have a title. Just a looping mess of sounds that refuse to mean anything.

Where the hell do you even start when everything already feels like the ending?

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojostrums the strings harder. Wrong. All wrong. The riff comes out ugly. He stops. Breathes in. Breathes out. Counts to four. Still wrong. He closes his eyes and leans back in the chair, head tilted toward the ceiling, waiting for the drop of something—inspiration, maybe. Grace. A ghost. Or maybe for the ceiling to collapse and kill him.

However he is only met with the response of silence. Then—his phone buzzes. He knows it's Shoko. She's the only one who checks on him anymore. She pretends to not care, but she has always been in his corner... even when he doesn't deserve it.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t want to answer. He wants to let it go to voicemail. But considering he has gotten no where in the past three hours, he might as well. Not like he has anything better going on. He presses accept and stays quiet.

“Still hunched over in that studio?” she asks. No preamble.

“Still smoking those cancer sticks?” he fires back.

A pause. The kind that says you win this round, bitch.

“I’ve got news,” she sighs. “About Y/n”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo feels his jaw twitch. He says nothing. She had been an enigma in his mind since they had played together. He thought about how he looked at her and all he saw was Geto. He remembered the feeling of his heart rate spiking and palms growing sweaty as she removed the blindfold, ruining the illusion. There was something about the way she really looked at him afterwards. Like actually looked. Saw him. He panicked and bolted out of the room.

Shoko knows that silence. She keeps going.

“Execs said no. She’s out. Too new. Too unpolished. Not marketable enough. They used a lot of words to say ‘we’re scared of taking risks.’ You know the drill.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn't answer at first. Not because he doesn’t have anything to say—but because he has too much. Y/n's playing has been stuck in his head since the audition like a melody with no name. He remembers the shape of her confidence. The fire in her voice when she said she could keep up with him—blindfolded. She turned Charmolypi into a conversation without knowing the history.

And now, just like that, he lost Geto all over again. I mean a new bassist. His grip tightens on the guitar neck until his knuckles pale.

“Say something,” Shoko pleads. “Or throw something. I don’t care. Just don’t sit there shutting me out again. ”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo lifts the guitar again. Plays the same three chords. They don't sound real anymore with how many times he has replayed them..

“Did they give a reason?” he mutters.

“I told you. Image. PR. All bullshit.” She pauses, then adds carefully, “They don’t think she fits our sound.”

Gojo snorts. “She was our sound.”

Another beat of silence.

“You gonna fight this?” she asks.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t know. He wants to. But there’s something heavy hanging over it all—something rooted in the song he hasn’t finished and the person he hasn’t forgiven. Y/N reminded him of Geto, that was undeniable. Obviously, not in the way she looked, or talked. But in the way she made music feel like it still meant something. Like it could still save something.

But maybe Gojo doesn’t want to be saved. Maybe he was scared to try and push for this girl to join his band because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to push aside the fact that all he saw when he looked at her was his ex-lover. His bestfriend. The one that got away. What if that line blurred and he did something terrible? Ruined another person? He seemed to have a track record for ruining the good in amazing musicians.

Shoko seems to sense where his mind is drifting. “Look. You’ve got five months to write something that doesn’t sound like a eulogy. I’m just saying—maybe the thing you need to fix this… isn’t something. Maybe it’s someone.”

He doesn’t answer. He just keeps playing the same three chords, slightly slower now. Still not right.

"Just think about it. Don't forget to take a break, though." Shoko added before ending the call.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo , who gets literally kicked out of the studio by Shoko, doesn’t argue when she tosses a crumpled ball cap at his chest and jerks a thumb toward the door.

“You need air. And a damn attitude adjustment.”

He doesn’t bother lashing back. Not because he agrees with her— hell no— but because the fight feels like too much effort. Everything does lately. Maybe he should request his doctor to up his meds?

“Don’t forget the mask,” she calls after him as he walks down the hallway. “The last thing we need is another headline about your ‘mysterious public breakdown.’”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who’s dressed like teenage girl who just discovered streetwear's wet dream— navy blue ball cap pulled low, oversized white jersey flapping open over a long sleeve that hides his infamous yet easily recognizable tattoos, baggy cargo pants low enough to piss off any manager on payroll, and a plain black mask pulled snug over his face— blends in for once. A nobody in the middle of a city that only cares about nobodies when they become rich ass somebodies overnight.

The moment he steps outside, L.A. wraps around him— hot pavement, the smell of gas and cigarettes, the smear of sunset like an old bruise across the sky.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

He pulls it out, scanning a few messages. One from his agent — ignored. Two from fans who somehow got his real number again — blocked.

Then… An unfamiliar number. Just a single message.

did you really feel that threatened by how much better i am than you?

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo freezes mid-step. The corner of his mouth unknowingly twitches, almost against his will—not quite a smile, more like the idea of one. He reads the message again. He’s not used to being challenged, let alone teased this casually. He didn't even question how she managed to get his number.

It’s Y/n. Has to be.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo stares at the words, chewing them over like lyrics he hasn’t quite figured out how to sing yet. The audacity. The gall. The fact that she didn’t beg for a second chance— didn’t ask anything of him. Just hit send and dared him to deal with it.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo feels his face flush for the first time in years. God, what was he, a kid in grade school? No way he is getting flustered by a girl being this casual with him. He had snake bites and a tongue piercing for crying out loud! If he could sit through that pain, he could handle some random girl texting his phone. She's not just some random girl, though.

So what she was someone who, for the first time in forever, reminded him of why he started playing in the first place. That feeling. That fire. That ache. And it wasn’t from fame. Or fans. Or ego. It was from someone showing up and refusing to shrink beneath his shadow.

It didn't mean anything. He should ignore the text. He should block her and move on and keep pretending none of this matters. But instead, his thumbs hover over the screen. He types. Deletes. Types again.

you spelled “lucky” wrong.

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it. The reply comes quick.

bitch behavior. didn’t deny it though.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who now walks the block with a barely-contained laugh behind his mask, feels that same feeling stir in his ribs that he originally felt when they played together.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, whose feet carry him aimlessly down side streets and cracked sidewalks, past tattoo parlors glowing red with neon, taco stands setting up for late-night rushes, and murals half-covered in new graffiti. It's noisy, alive — and yet, it feels like he's underwater. Everything muffled. Everyone moving too fast.

He thumbs a reply, each word deliberately careless:

deny what? that you played like a high schooler with stage fright?

But before he can hit send, he pauses. Deletes the last half. He rewrites it. Too mean.

deny what? i didn’t know confidence came with delusion these days.

He stares at it for a second. Debating. Not bad.. not too mean? Its fine. Stop over thinking it.

Then: send.

His phone buzzes back within seconds.

says the guy who couldn’t even look me in the eye the whole time i played. what’s the matter, did real talent make you nervous? or am I just that breathtaking?

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo actually stops walking this time, standing in the yellow glow of a flickering streetlamp. Is she flirting or mocking him? A couple passes him on the sidewalk, laughing softly as they brush hands. He doesn't move, doesn’t even notice.

There’s a subtle tightening in his chest. Not pain, exactly. More like friction. Pressure. Get a grip, you're Gojo Satoru. Worldwide superstar. Not some loser who has never felt the touch of a woman before. You don't like this girl; you like the fact that she reminds you of who you lost. Nothing more.

says the girl who was about to cry because her pinky slipped off the E string? don’t act like you didn’t flinch when i raised my voice. tough girls don’t blink.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo regrets the last sentence the moment it sends. Way too mean. Too much like the version of him Shoko keeps threatening to drag to therapy. But it’s already out there. Her reply takes longer this time. Five minutes. Then ten. He starts walking again, slower now. He cuts across a parking lot and sits on the edge of a short wall, staring out at the blur of headlights streaming down the street.

Finally, her response comes.

you’re right. i did flinch. because you reminded me what failure looks like. and i don’t want to end up like you. damn near passed out at the mere thought.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who has been called a genius, a god, a generational talent, sits in stunned silence, phone glowing back at him as if he looked hard enough, the message would rewrite itself into something more pleasant.

He blinks once. Twice. Then, he smiles. Not the cocky smirk, not the fake stage-grin. A real one. Twisted, bitter, maybe a little impressed.

ok. fine. show me how not to end up like me then.

The three dots bounce on his screen. Typing. Stopping. Typing again. But no reply comes. He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky, the city lights washing out the stars. For the first time in months, he’s not thinking about Geto. Not about the way things fell apart. Not about how he ruined the relationship with the person he cared about most. Just about a girl who called him a bitch and made him want to pick up his guitar again— not to be better than anyone else. But to prove he still could.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, phone screen dims. Thirty minutes pass. Still no reply. He doesn’t like that.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t like being the one left hanging. He’s the cliff, not the one dangling from it. The back-and-forth was fun. Sharp. Flirty without trying to be. But now that it’s quiet, all the self-assuredness he wears like cologne starts to wear thin. He checks the signal on his phone like it’s the service’s fault.

Then— buzz.

A message. No words. Just a location pin. A blue dot blinking somewhere less than a mile from where he’s perched.

wtf does that mean. hello? you forget how to type? are you luring me out to kill me bc ngl, i’d respect that.

No response. Gojo stares at the location again. He shouldn’t go. He won’t go. It’s probably just a flex. A test. A trap. ...So why is he already walking with the GPS pulled up?

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who has slipped through hundreds of backdoors in venues across the world, now walks quietly, alone, on side streets lit with strings of warm lights and the occasional flickering sign. He follows the map. It leads him to a small café tucked between a yoga studio and an old comic shop. The kind of place with mismatched tables and a chalkboard sign outside that says OPEN MIC / LOCAL TALENT NIGHT in scrawled white letters. It’s packed. People are standing shoulder to shoulder, heads tilted toward a small stage in the back, where a single spotlight beams down like a soft halo.

He doesn’t need to ask where she is.

Because there, in the middle of that warmth and color and attention, is Y/n. Alone onstage. No band. No fanfare. Just her bass slung low, her fingers moving with casual, devastating control. Her eyes are wide as she plays with a fever he couldn't describe. Her body swaying to a rhythm that doesn’t seem rehearsed, but lived in.

And the sound—God. Even her voice is pretty. It’s fluid. Gritty. Intimate. Full of breathless pauses and surprise riffs . She’s not showing off—not technically. She’s telling a story. And the crowd? They're caught in her gravity. No phones out. No talking. Just listening. She plucks a run of notes, and Gojo feels them.

Somewhere in his ribs. That little space between ache and awe. He leans against the doorframe in the back, hidden by shadows. Watching.

Y/N glances up mid-song, and for a second, her eyes flicker to the back of the room. He swears she sees him. But she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t flinch.

Just presses deeper into the melody like it’s a challenge, and Gojo swears he can hear it in the way her fingers shift: “You came.”

And something in his chest replies— “Yeah.”

The final note hums like the last breath of a storm. Y/n lets it hang, vibrating in the air for one extra beat before she slowly lifts her hand off the strings. No flourish. No bow. Just a nod— like that performance was for her, not them. Applause erupts, sudden and full-bodied. Gojo watches her give a tight smile to the crowd, say something polite into the mic, and then slip off the stage without waiting for praise.

She disappears behind a curtain for a moment. The next act sets up— two girls with matching hair clips and a shared acoustic guitar. The energy shift is immediate. But Gojo’s not watching them. Because she’s walking toward him now. Calm. Unhurried. Eyes pinned to his like she’s not even bothering to pretend this is coincidence.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who’s sat in green rooms with legends and walked off stage to standing ovations, suddenly feels too tall for his chair. He straightens up—too quickly— like he didn’t just get caught staring. Y/n stops in front of him and squints. Then, with all the flatness of someone pointing out a spilled drink:

"Your disguise is terrible, by the way."

Gojo blinks. “...You think so?”

She cocks her head, arms crossing. “You look like what an adolescent girl, too young to be on Tumblr, would climax over if she could dress her crush.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojosnorts— but behind the mask, it's more like a sharp exhale. She slides into the chair across from him. Her movements unceremonious, confident, like this was always the plan. Like he’s the one intruding on her evening.

"I’m surprised you made it," she says, flicking a glance toward the stage as the next act begins tuning.

“Only caught the end.” He says it casually, but the way his fingers tap restlessly at the edge of the table gives him away. “Didn’t think you were into open mic nights.”

“I’m not. But they’re into me.” She shrugs. “And this is the only place that’ll let me play without turning it into a PR stunt.”

She doesn’t say like your label did, but he hears it anyway.

A waitress comes by. Y/N orders with practiced ease, like she comes here often.

“Strawberry shortcake,” she says, pointing at Gojo with her thumb. “And an energy drink for me. Tall can. Yellow tropical.”

Gojo raises a brow. “Didn’t realize you knew my order.”

“I didn’t. You just look like you need something sweet to shut you up.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo opens his mouth to reply, but it’s gone— the wit, the snark. She’s leaned back now, arms over the chair, the dim café lights softening the edges of her face. Not smiling. Not trying to make him laugh.

Just looking at him. And it’s so unsettlingly… normal and easy. The waitress disappears. The music starts again— the girls on stage begin to sing something breathy and delicate about summer and loss. They sit there, saying nothing for a moment.

Then Y/n, softly speaks; her voice as sweet and light as it was during her audition originally:

"Why’d you come, Satoru?"

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t answer right away. Because he doesn't know what would be worse— telling her the truth… or lying. That it wasn’t about rivalry. Or pride. It was because she made him feel something. Something that he thought he'd never feel again. The presence of Geto. All when she played. He could feel Geto's touch. His smell. His laughter that could echo off the walls for miles. That would be crazy to admit. Deranged. Wrong. So instead, he shrugs. Leans back in his seat.

“Wanted to see if you were as good as your ego said.”

Y/N smirks faintly, tilting the energy drink to her lips as it arrives.

“And?”

The waitress sets the shortcake in front of him. Gojo picks up the fork, breaks off a piece of strawberry, and answers with a mouthful.

"...You’re better."

They sit together for longer than they probably should.

A steady stream of local talent drifts on and off the stage— an indie rock duo with too much reverb, a slam poet who forgot half their lines, a jazz quartet that brought the house back to life. But Gojo only half-listens. His attention keeps drifting sideways, toward the girl sitting across from him, draining her energy drink and poking at the condensation on the side of the can like it’s more interesting than anything happening on stage.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who once sold out Narendra Modi Stadium in less than hour, can’t remember the last time he sat this still.

Y/n laughs at something the girl onstage says— a soft, bright laugh that bursts out of her without restraint. When she laughs, she laughs. Her whole body lifts like a wave cresting, shoulders bouncing, her nose crinkling as the sound fills their little corner of the cafe. And God, it hurts. Because she reminds him of him. Not just in the way her presence draws people in like gravity, though that's part of it. It’s subtler than that. Quieter. The resemblance is all in the details.

In the sharp slice of her eyebrow, like it was carved there by accident during a night too wild to remember. The small silver ring through the side of her nose, glinting under warm lights. The faint constellation of freckles that dust her cheekbones, barely there until she tips her face up to laugh.

And then there's her smile— wide, full, but with a crooked tooth that only adds to her charm. It's not perfect. Which is exactly what makes it unforgettable. She talks with her hands. Gestures big, like every word needs space to stretch. Just like Geto used to.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo feels it— the old ache, that space inside him where Suguru used to live. He thinks he’s gotten used to it by now. The hollowness. The silence. But watching Y/n from the side, it's like pressing on a bruise that never fully healed.

“Hey,” she says suddenly, voice casual, but her gaze is sharp. “You keep staring like that, and people are gonna start thinking you’re in love with me.”

He snorts. “If I were, it’d be purely out of admiration for your excellent fashion sense.”

“Oh yeah?” she leans in, feigning seriousness. “You trying to copy my look under that busted disguise?”

He grins under the mask, shaking his head. “Please. If I showed up dressed like you, I’d get mobbed.”

“Well then,” she raises her can in a mock-toast, “consider yourself lucky. No one here’s even bothered to ask if you’re the Gojo Satoru. Your anonymity’s doing great.”

“Thanks,” he says flatly. “I worked really hard to look this chopped.”

Y/N snickers and sits back, watching the next performer fumble with a mic stand. Then, after a stretch of companionable silence, she sighs.

“I’m okay with not being in the band, you know.”

Gojo’s fingers tense slightly against the table. Y/n doesn’t look at him. She just keeps watching the stage, her tone neutral.

“I knew when they brought me in, it wasn’t going to happen. You’ve got too much weight around that group. Too much grief. They want someone to fill a spot— not replace anyone. And I’m not trying to be a ghost in someone else’s place. I am my own person, y'know. ”

Her words hang heavy between them. Truthful. Unbothered. And Gojo, who’s spent months pretending he doesn’t care, finally admits — that’s exactly it. Suguru was irreplaceable. Not just because of the talent or the history. But because of who he was to all of them. To him.

And now here’s this girl: too loud, too honest, too damn talented; who won’t slot neatly into a role designed for someone long gone. Because she’s not a replacement. She’s herself. Gojo looks at her again and he doesn’t know what to say. But for once, maybe that’s okay. So instead, he nudges his plate toward her— one last bite of strawberry shortcake untouched.

“Wanna finish it?”

She looks at him, then at the cake, then back.

“Sharing sweets? You like me that much?.”

He shrugs. “Call it a peace offering.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who stands outside the little cafe, the buzz of streetlamps flickering overhead as L.A.’s night air kisses at the edges of his skin through the loose jersey he’s half-zipped. The world hums around him, but he only hears the echo of her laugh— still ringing behind his ribs like a leftover chord.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who stands there awkwardly, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other idly spinning the cap of his lychee soda bottle, unsure if he’s supposed to say something else—something meaningful. But Y/N’s already turning; her energy drink can tossed into a bin with a flick of her fingers.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who watches her walk away with an effortless bounce in her step, a light skip slipping into her stride like she forgot she was supposed to play it cool.

She doesn’t look back. But he does.

He watches her—shoulders relaxed, hoodie slightly oversized, her silhouette swallowed up by the city’s amber haze. The faint clink of her bass case as it shifts against her back. That goddamn silver nose ring catching the light. The way her plump-lipped smile had lingered a little too long in his memory.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who sighs so hard it fogs up it heats up the masks he has on. He tugs it off in a fluid motion and pulls off the cap, running a hand through his now-damp hair.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who kicks at a pebble on the sidewalk and mutters under his breath, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” like the universe dared to give him another person who shines too bright and burns just as fast.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who stands still long after Y/N has disappeared from sight, feeling that annoying tug in his chest — the one that makes him clench his jaw and pretend his heart doesn’t still flinch when he thinks about Geto.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who realizes, as he exhales and rolls his shoulders back, that he doesn’t care what the label said. Or what bullshit reason they gave. Or how complicated it might be to add her to their lineup.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojowho makes up his mind right then and there, staring into the cool L.A. night, that she’s in the band— no matter what.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who is a lot of things—a menace, a legend, a walking PR nightmare— but he’s not a coward.

He'll fight the execs. He'll deal with Nanami’s judgment. He’ll deal with his own aching, unresolved ghosts.

But he is not letting someone like Y/N slip away. Not when she might be the only person in five goddamn years to make music feel alive again.

And especially not when she calls him a bitch and still somehow makes him want to write a song about it.

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band--psycho · 2 days ago

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Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader - A Much Needed Vacation

Thank you to @amongthe141 for requesting this story!

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist / Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Fluff

Now don’t get me wrong Kyle loves exploring new places, especially when visiting a new vacation destination with you; but spending the first few days chilling with you in the air bnb apartment that you booked, would be on the top of his list of things to do on vacation.

“Baby, it’s nearly noon,” you mumble in his ear, your lips delicately kissing his neck whilst your hand rested your on his chest,

“So?” Kyle sleepily asked, moving his hand until it was over yours, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Shouldn’t we go out…explore or something?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow slightly.

You didn’t say this because you wanted to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed, or Kyle’s cuddle but because you wanted Kyle to enjoy this holiday as much as possible; he deserved it after all and it wasn’t often that you got a vacation like this.

“Do you want that baby?” He continued, glancing down at you.

“No,” you answered honestly, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

“Good, cos neither do I,” he smiled, unable to help but admire how beautiful you looked in the morning.

“I’m happy as long as you're here,” he added, leaning over to place a soft kiss on your lips.

~~~~~

So after spending the first few days of the vacation relaxing with you, Kyle would definitely be up for doing some exploration.

Kyle loved exploring, especially when he was in a destination neither of you had ever been here before.

A brand new adventure with you by his side, what could be better?

It also allowed his brain to focus on the destination he was in, instead of the mission he’d come back from.

Both of you would flip through the book that was left by the owners of the apartment; it was filled with popular tourist destinations along with a little note that had the owners personal favourite places written on it.

Together, you and Kyle would create a list of each of your favourite places, of course, starting with the place that Kyle wanted to visit first, seeing as his holiday was a treat for him.

You’d both spend the next few days working though the lists you’d each formulated, making sure to take as many pictures as you could to cherish the memories made here.

~~~~~

After a busy day of exploration; Kyle would insist on cooking dinner for you, despite your protests and offers to cook for him instead so that he could rest.

He enjoyed cooking. There was something heretic about it for him and there was no denying the pride he felt within himself after making a dinner that you loved.

“Bon appetit,” he beamed, setting the plate of food down in front of you; the sky behind you slowly blending from orange, rose and crimson into cooler shades of lavender and indigo.

“Kyle…this looks amazing,” you praised, totally in awe of his culinary skills, skills that definitely surpassed your own.

Kyle would never say that his food was at the caliber of a Michelin chef, but it was good in a different way.

In a homely way.

He leaned down slightly, kissing your cheek softly, his lips moving up slightly to your ear whispering the words, “Not as amazing as you baby.”

Was it slightly cliche? Yes.

Did that stop the heat from rising to your cheeks at his compliment?

No.

But to Kyle it was the truth; there was nothing more beautiful to him than you; not even the picturesque view of the sunset you sat in front of.

Good food.

Exploration.

And spending some much needed and very overdue quality time with you.

That’s all Kyle needed to have an absolutely amazing vacation.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @mermaniaa @fangirlsfandomss @book-dragon03 @sunrise-willarive @amniotic115 @imdeadontheinside786 @asterionex @pinkyyoshi @yaradigital @euriiverse @eternallyvenus @littlejoyfulthings @s-void @rivwritesiguess @lilyalone @mrstelford @rabbittmoons

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ehlnofay · 1 year ago

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working on my long project again. pray for me

#dude it's so long and it's so bad and nobody will want to read it #but! I'm going to finish it! for the feeling of accomplishment! because finishing something this fucking long will be a splendid achievemen #I'm not going to have written this much for it to come to nothing #augh. I'm crossing my fingers that I'm just in that phase of writing something and it is actually fine #but I don't know man #it's truly so long I think I've conceptualised this in a way that is absolutely fucking insane. but whatever #surely there are dozens of fay writing enthusiasts who desperately want to read approaching a hundred thousand words #of long winded character studies #see that's the problem!! normally when I do long winded character studies #it's only one character. so it's fine #(and it's also vignettes. my darling vignettes)#but this is not a series of related scenes. and it's several characters. so it's the same thing a few times. and it's SO LONG.#augh.#the length is my primary concern tbh #but I'll finish the draft!#and I'll let it lie for a while!#and if it needs to be trimmed down then I'll do it!#or I won't. who's going to make me. it's not like I'm forcing anyone to read my bad character studies #this is my house #what am I even talking about #whatever #bye

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lyxchen · 3 months ago

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Really somehow can't deal with how Gi-hun told Sang-woo "let's go home" after everything that happened. After everything Gi-hun saw Sang-woo do, after everything Sang-woo said to Gi-hun, after their fight where they were literally biting and stabbing each other. But then Sang-woo is lying on the floor helpless, with a gun pointed at him because he'll be shot as soon as Gi-hun wins the game and instead of doing it, winning the game, getting all this money, letting his friend who tried to kill him die.. instead he turns around and says "I'm done, I want to stop here" and "let's go home" like. we've fought enough, we have met people and lost them in the span of days and we have been turned against each other, they tried to make us kill each other, but we're done now. Let's go home now. Our moms might not be calling us for dinner, but still we're done playing so let's go Home

#or btw just for info #in the english dub he actually says 'let's go together'#but i'm watching in korean and both my german and the english subtitles say 'let's go home' so i'm taking that as the actual meaning of what #gihun is saying #anyways #like the hnnnng #the #sangwoo saying when we were young we would play like this and our moms would call us inside for dinner #but nobody calls anymore #and gihun saying lets go home as in let's go home anyways #even if nobody is there to greet us even if nobody is asking us to come back #we'll still go home #together #just #ahhh #gihun i love you i love you i love you #man that whole last game scene i could watch it over and over and over again #it's so good and so devastating and so emotional and beautifully filmed and directed and written #masterpiece #lea's random thoughts #squid game #cho sang woo #cho sangwoo #seong gi hun #seong gihun #like #they literally got so far and they lost so much they are both at a worse point than they were before they entered the games #but Still #gihun tells him to go home together #even though all of it was for nothing then but still he wants to go home if it means his best friend doesn't have to die

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justanotherwriter140 · 7 months ago

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Kung Fu Panda 2 Scene Analysis + Discussion Post

Hey, all! Here's a KFP2 scene analysis because I felt like it. 🤷‍♀️

I have an itch to scratch and I'm going to make all of you read about it. I've been revisiting KFP2's remarkable storytelling methods—namely for conveying strong emotions without relying on dialogue and putting more faith in the narrative—and when I got to the harbor scene, I couldn't help but write something up on it. In general, writing short essays on scenes/sequences is a great writing exercise that I would recommend for fellow writers because it's a big help when you're trying to emulate a certain style or feel in your work. KFP2 is a great movie and I love it, so I often refer back to it when I'm struggling.

In short, this is me gushing. I know as a fandom we've talked this part of the movie to death a hundred times over, but it's a scene that deserves it. I'm going to be focusing on the aspects of it that interest me most, but the final battle following this scene is just as worthy of being fawned over. I am a KFP fan through-and-through and every scene (in this film especially) deserves its own discussion post. Unfortunately, I'm employed.

I've never done a dedicated sequence analysis before, but I've been delving back into studying animation and that paired with my long-time love for storytelling is more than enough to make me want to do a Tumblr deep dive on this 20~ second master-class in storytelling.

To begin, let's take a look at what's happening here:

Po swims to Tigress to make sure that she's okay. He holds her hand and gets close to her, which is something we can assume he would never do otherwise. I'll cite the attack-hug; we witnessed his (albeit completely understandable) reaction to Tigress initiating physical contact, and his instinct was to freeze in place. It tells us that physical contact is uncommon and maybe even a little awkward for them, and yet, he grabs her hand without hesitation.

My heart...ugh. I was little when this came out and I was STUPEFIED. I also realized I wanted to make movies, though, so I guess it worked out. 🤷‍♀️

Plus the little thumb-hold from Tigress. I'm nauseous. Kill me.

It's also worth mentioning that despite the fact that Po audibly says her name, she doesn't respond to hearing him. She responds to feeling him. She doesn't start to lift her head until he touches her.

Earlier in the film, it had been made a point that she "feels nothing," which was intended to refer to both her hands and her emotions. She physically and mentally beat herself up for 20 years until she couldn't feel the hurt anymore.

Even so, it only takes Po to unravel that. This is the movie further cementing the franchise-long theme of Po bringing inner peace to the valley. On a more personal note, it's also the movie telling us that Tigress's jadedness only goes as far as she lets it. She is capable of recovery, capable of feeling—it only matters that she allows herself to have those moments.

She looks up. She's relieved. She couldn't save China, but she saved Po. She didn't fail in protecting him this time. She did her job. There's a beautiful contrast between what she's feeling and what he's feeling but they share a point—kind of like a venn diagram. Both feel some kind of relief, however brief. As for their differences, Tigress's defiance is weakened and Po's is ignited. He takes on that weight for her.

The way her head slowly falls back down makes me think she's too exhausted to keep her head up any longer. She had used all of her strength to hold onto Po and look fully at him, face to face, to be sure he was alright. Tigress is the most capable member of the group, but where her most important strength lies is revealed here as well as in the rest of KFP2: in her compassion and care for others.

Po looks at Shen with scathing, genuine contempt. He's taken away too many people Po loves, and Po won't let him take away another. He's thinking about the valley, about his friends, Mr. Ping, and his duty to defend China and bring evil-doers to justice. We see the resolve in his eyes. He'll do what he has to.

The angle of the image is also worth mentioning. With the way the "camera" is tilted—now at a direct eye-level as opposed to a few shots before when Po was almost slouching below mid-frame—Po looks bigger in this shot. He's being framed as a protector. Defender of China. The Dragon Warrior. He's really, truly stepping into this role.

Tigress bows her head and Po takes on the weight, which is a huge contrast to the rest of the film. Before this scene, Tigress is the one being strong, being smart, taking charge, and leading the group. Throughout the mission, Po was consistently reckless, stubborn, and distracted. We know why. This bit is his amendment. This is him saying and meaning, "I've got this."

And then he pushes Tigress away. The little look I caught in this screenshot lingers for only two~ seconds, but what I love about animation is that everything is intentional. He watches her float away for an extra few seconds because it meant something to someone that he did.

AND THEN SHE REACHES FOR HIM. Whose idea was this? We need to have some words. You guys were evil and I love it.

She's exhausted, hurt, and is likely carrying the crushing weight of China's defeat on her shoulders, and yet, she reaches for him. It wouldn't even be for her own comfort, either, but because she still has the urge to save him. Even in her state of being borderline unconscious, she still has that instinct—that care. She can't watch her friend be killed.

I pause on this whenever I watch this scene over. To me, this frame perfectly encapsulates Po as a character. We see him facing impending doom in the form of a massive ship with a monstrous-looking cannon strapped to the front, harboring a psychotic peacock fully intending to kill him—just like he killed Po's mother—when he gets the shot.

Despite this, Po only pushes Tigress—a loved one, and while it's far more impactful to the story that it was her, it could have been anyone and the point still stands—out of the way. He moves her out of the line of fire and lures the danger away. That simple action of pushing her away is the epitome of "show, don't tell" used correctly and tells the audience everything we need to know.

And then he goes and stands on a floating chunk of fallen ship (not even solid ground!) and fights solo against an entire fleet of weaponized ships. And then he wins in what's arguably the coolest, most badass way possible.

This—this frame, not the fight itself—is easily his most heroic and selfless moment and it's my favorite frame in the KFP trilogy.

Thanks to all who read this through for indulging my intense love for this specific sequence! This analysis isn't objective, obviously, so if there are any disagreements, I'd really like to talk about them! I'm always looking for different perspectives and ideas, and I'm sure there's a fan somewhere who interpreted this scene wildly differently. I'd also just really love to hear any additional thoughts if there's something I missed. And if another scene gets you super excited like this one does for me, tell me all about it!

An update for my readers: Chapter 6 of The Days is well on its way and I can't wait to share it with you—there's some fun stuff in there and I'm really excited to post it. Thanks for reading, guys! :)

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