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punkitt-is-here · 11 months

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Frequently Asked Questions!

Heyo! I get a TON of asks each day, so I'm making this post so that folks know what's already been asked so my followers don't have to see the same stuff over and over, haha.

Hi! I'm Punkitt! I'm a game developer, artist, editor, director, and a bunch of other stuff! I'm working on an RPG called Astral Guard, a platformer called Susan Taxpayer, and I have a couple more fun projects in my pocket like Happup and Super Mario Death Row.

Why do you have so many hats? Do you know you have that many hats?

ye i like hats. :) free tumblr badges for one pea i like one piece and took as many as i could. free.

Where can I find your art/game development/horsecomix?

Great question! Everything I make that's my own and not a reblog is under "my posts", every bit of art I do is under "my art", any game development I do is under "gamedev", you can find all my MLP art under "mlp, my art" or "horsecomix" for the best stuff. I also have an "animations" tag and a "shitposts" tab. I also properly tag all my asks to be asks and write out the asker's name, so if you don't wanna see those just mute the ask tag.

Do you have a Patreon or a Ko-Fi?

I do have a ko-fi here! I also JUST launched a Patreon, which you can find here :)

What do you use for your art?

I use FireAlpaca and Paint.net for misc. effects!

What are you using to make your games?

I use FireAlpaca do make my assets! Astral Guard, Happup, and any other top-down RPG games I make are all made in RPGMaker 2003. Susan Taxpayer is made in SMBX2 Beta 4, a Mario fangame engine with lua support!

Why are you using a 2-decade-plus engine to make games?

It's fun!

Do you have a sideblog or something for your art?

Not right now! What you see is what you get. I do have a sideblog for Astral Guard though, if you want to follow that game specifically! @astral-guard

Can I make an OC based on your work? ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!! THATS THE COOLEST THING EVER!!!! LET ME KNOW IF YOU DO!!!! I WANNA SEE!!!!

Can I do dubs/redraws of your comics? As long as you credit me! I get a ton of notifs each day, so if you wanna show me (and PLEASE i so do wanna see fun dubs and redraws!!!) tag me or DM me!

Can I use your art as a PFP? Sure! Just credit me somewhere. :D

Are you the one who trapped her coworkers in a room and made them listen to TF2 lore?

Yep! Everyone had a blast actually. :]

Did you make that comic where Fluttershy eats the weed brownie/Rainbow Dash has a male living space/someone has a cutie mark that says they'll kill Ronald Reagan?

Yep! That's me.

Where are you in MLP right now?

Currently just finished Season 7! Haven't watched the movie yet.

Have you watched Equestria Girls?

Yep! Thought it was super cute. I watched up to Rainbow Rocks and plan on watching more.

What's your opinion on MLP so far?

I love it! I think it's cute. I really don't agree that there was some sort of huge quality drop after season 2 or whatever.

What do you think of G5?

Not my style! I don't really like either animation types and it just seems like I'm not in the audience anymore. That's totally chill, but it just doesn't grab me!

Have you watched any other MLP stuff from previous generations?

Nope! But I did see a compilation called Minty Being Autistic for Six Minutes Straight that I loved. she's perfect.

Favorite pony?

Don't got one, I love all the Mane Six a LOT, but I'm particularly fond of Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rarity!

Favorite episode/season?

I'm so bad at picking favorites! But any season past Season 1 I have a blast with because I feel like it's just more my style. I don't have a favorite episode, but the most recent one I can remember LOVING is the one where Starlight bottles up her emotions because it was REALLY funny.

Do you like Pony.mov?

Nope! And stop saying my stuff reminds you of it, it's a lil annoying!

Have you watched the Mentally Advanced Series/Friendship is Witchcraft/Other fandom vids?

Probably not! My interaction with the MLP fandom prior to last year was pretty minimal, so I'm making my way through the show first!

What do you think of Fallout: Equestria?

I think it's super weird but really fun because of that. I've never properly read any of it but it's very fascinating to me.

Are you transgender?

Yep! I go by she/her, I'm a trans woman. Have been for many years, but I only recently came out online!

Are you a lesbian?

Nah, I'm bisexual!

Can I commission you?

Yeah! I only have my commissions available on my Ko-Fi at certain times though, so keep an eye out! I usually announce slots being open at least 12 hours beforehand. Slots are usually first come first serve, but we'll see.

Can I use your art as a Discord emote?

Yeah man i'm not scouring every discord on the planet to find stickers of my work. i think it owns if people take my stuff and make it stupid injoke emotes between friends that makes me very happy.

Can I send you an ask inquiring about gender dysphoria?

I feel like this is beyond my capabilities of advice! I'm actually very comfortable with my body and I have been for many years, so I don't know if I can give any good or helpful advice on that front. Apologies, but there are many resources out there where you can ask about those things if you look for them, like Discord channels!

Favorite Color?

I'm a sucker for blue!

Favorite coffee?

Can't drink coffee, my stomach is cringe.

Favorite tea?

I'm lame and can't drink most tea but I love this one orange-flavored tea a lot. I also LOVE ice tea.

Can I say you're horsegender/punkittgender/a little gender goblin void thing?

Well, I can't stop you, but I'm kind of beyond that phase now! I really am a boring ol' plain she/her girl, and I like it that way. It's not much, but it's honest gender.

What's your favorite game series?

Mother, Kingdom Hearts, Mario, and I USED to say Fallout, but I found out I'm really only a big Fallout New Vegas fan.

Favorite game from those?

Mother 3 is one of my fave games of all time! I love KHII, and I'm tied for SMB3 and SMW. Also Fallout New Vegas fucks hard.

Any other favs?

Bug Fables, SLARPG, and TF2!

Favorite Movie?

Everything Everywhere All At Once, no question.

Oh, are you going to college?

Yep! I'm a film/theater major.

Do you have a YouTube channel?

Yeah! Click right here for it, I stream there and upload footage of my games/animations/my film projects + other stuff.

What is that little orange creature I see?

That's bweenop, my little persona that I use when I'm feeling a little scrunkly.

Do you have a ponysona?

Yep! Her name is Star Magnolia, you can search her on the blog to see art of her.

When will Susan Taxpayer/Astral Guard/etc. be out?

No clue! I take things slow, that's just how I am.

How do you work on so many things at once?

I make small, satisfying amounts of progress! I never try to complete one giant thing all at once, I just like doing small bursts of fun stuff. I got ADHD, so I learn to work with it.

Did you know you look like Weird Al?

Im going to run you over with a clown car watch out

WHY do you work on so many things at once?

Fun! I like learning, I like making cool stuff, and I like showing it to people :)

Do you need any help with your projects?

Potentially! I'll probably put out a post asking for help if I need it.

If you could be a horse, would you?

You kidding me? Several ton beasts with the frailty of a sickly Victorian boy; my clumsy ass would never survive.

Are you some sort of...furry?

yeag

Why do you reblog so much?

Brother I LOVE posting. that's just how it is.

Fav music artists?

It changes literally ALL the time but I will recommend ANYTHING by Vylet Pony, its music is incredible and probably the reason I'm a weird niche microcelebrity now.

Why are you like this?

theater kid + having a lot of fun on the internet makes you a bit silly hehe hoo

SUSAN TAXPAYER QUESTIONS

Is it out? Not yet! But hopefully sometime in the next year. I dunno! I take things at my own pace and keep stuff fun. :)

What are you using to make it? SMBX2! It's a free fangame engine for Mario episodes, but it's incredibly versatile and has a wonderful community, so I decided to make Susan Taxpayer in it.

Is there a demo? You betcha! You can find it right here. I'll also probably put it up on my itch.io.

How do I install it? I made a post here about how to run the SAGE '23 demo!

#FAQ #my posts #punkitt FAQ #announcement

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shhhsecretsideblog · 1 month

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No Time To Hide

This was something I wrote for an Imagine You’re Pregnant prompt, original post here. Thought I’d make a side blog and post it here as well cos I really enjoyed writing this and might be tempted to write more birth fics

Eva opened the wooden window of her small cottage, letting the cool autumn air whip through her hair. The smell of woodland and damp grass filled her nostrils as she took a long, calming breath.

Describing herself as a green witch, Eva loved her little cottage hidden away from everyone deep within the rich forest. Coven life was never something that appealed to her; the idea of being constantly surrounded by other witches, their opinions and their magic, was torture for Eva. She much preferred her own company, free to live her life the way she wanted. Free to use her own style of magic, without the distraction or judgement of others. It was why she decided to live here in the heart of the forest. There was a river that flowed through the centre of the woodland, the ancient trees stood tall around her home, and the forest floor was packed with all manner of plant life. It was perfect; just her, the elements and Mother Nature.

Despite her preference of living alone, as time passed Eva began to yearn for something… it wasn’t romance or friendship, but the idea of a child. Children were never something she had considered, but as she grew older Eva had begun to see the benefit of having children. Someone to pass all her knowledge and wisdom to, someone to love and care for and share all that she’d learnt. She wanted to pass on this way of living, to create a legacy.

A few months ago, nine to be exact, she enchanted a local townsman - not that he would ever remember it. And now here she was, rocking side to side and cradling the underneath of her heavily pregnant stomach, preparing herself as birth drew near.

The cramps had started yesterday afternoon, small and barely noticeable at first. Eva had been terribly uncomfortable these last few weeks, suffering constant aches and twinges, so she did not immediately give them any thought. However when they got sharper and more frequent, forcing her to pause whatever she was doing, they soon got her full attention.

Not knowing how long this could take but knowing she would eventually lose mobily as her labour progressed, she collected all her preparations and got the supplies ready. Blankets, towels, sterilised medical equipment, all within easy reach in the main living room. Snacks and drinks lay available on the coffee table and a pot of hot water sat by the open fire keeping a constant warm temperature.

“Mmmnnngghhhhh” Eva moaned deeply as the latest wave peaked. She leaned forward resting her elbows on the window sill, jutting her hips back and swaying them slightly. The baby was low and heavy in her pelvis, the head pressing downwards as her body slowly opened up.

When the latest pain had eased Eva straightened and looked down at her swollen stomach, speaking lovingly towards her unborn babe. “You’re really coming aren’t you little one? I’ve not done this before so please take it easy on me.” Her child responded with a gentle kick prompting the witch to smile.

Over the next few hours Eva got into a good rhythm riding out the contractions, each one hitting sooner than the last and with incrementally more vigour. She paced, rocked, squatted, kneeled, trying to find any comfortable position to ride out the waves. Her low and heavy stomach made moving from position to position cumbersome; one hand staying on her bump or her lower back at any given time, while the other kept her supported on whatever furniture or surface was nearby.

As the contractions ramped up, creeping steadily towards unbearable, the witch’s teeth clenched tight and she growled behind them. Three minutes apart. Holding on to the back of her armchair Eva lowered herself into a deep squat. Sweat covered every inch of her body, her thin linen dress and underwear clinging to every curve of her fertile frame.

Her hips were in agony, the pressure building. She opened her mouth to wail but no sound came out, shocked into silence by a sudden burst between her open thighs. Immediately the pressure eased and Eva could catch her breath again. The wooden floor below her feet was soaked; her waters had broken.

“Oooooooh okay- We’re getting so close- Are you ready to come out now baby? I cannot wait to meet you.”

Eva stood up, cradling the curve of her spasming bump. Her bare feet stepped ungainly out of the puddle on the floor and she quickly threw a tea towel down to soak up the worst of it.

“It’s just you and me, little one. We can do this.” Eva reassured herself, rubbing circles around her swell, preparing for the intensity to soar now her waters had gone.

However, before the next contraction could strike the witch startled at the sudden loud interruption of ringing bells. Rapid and urgent, the piercing chimes echoed all around her cottage, howling through every room.

Witch hunter!

The enchantments set up around her hidden home in the forest hadn’t gone off in decades - she had almost forgotten the wards were still in place. And yet the incessant ringing immediately chilled her to her very bones, suddenly haunting her with long forgotten memories of the brutal murders of her fellow witches.

Her stomach clenched with a new, different sensation - fear. At any other time Eva would arm herself with weapons and potions and storm outside on the offence, making sure to take down her enemy before he had the opportunity to strike. But now… the pressing weight in her hips and the constant aching of her contracting womb showed she was in no position to attack, or even defend herself, if put up against a murderous witch hunter.

She had to get out of here. The warning bells throughout her home would soon reach the ears of the witch hunter and then he would beeline straight to her hidden sanctuary. She needed to find somewhere else to hide.

Distracted by the chimes, Eva was unprepared for the next contraction when it ripped across her body, rooting her to the spot. She doubled over in pain, palms planted firmly on her thighs.

“Unnnhhhhhhhhhhhh no-no-no-no……” she whimpered through strained breaths as the pain skyrocketed and her belly hardened. Panting heavily the witch ignored growing desire to bear down. Her waters had broken, she was probably almost fully dilated, if not already. But she couldn’t stay here. If she stayed, both her and her child would certainly be killed. She had to leave and find somewhere safe to deliver this baby.

After what felt like an eternity, the contraction finally faded and she bolted straight out the back door of her cottage, leaving barefoot with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had wasted precious minutes since the warning alarm riding out that last pain - she couldn’t afford to waste any more time gathering supplies to take with her. Eva took off as quickly as she could, disappearing deep into the lush green forest.

She barely got out of sight behind the first set of oak trees before another contraction was already upon her. Two minutes apart. Leaning against the rough bark of the nearest tree, Eva squeezed her eyes shut and tried hard to swallow the whimper creeping out her throat. The unbearable pressure was demanding in its silent request and her knees trembled with the effort of ignoring it. The baby was so heavy, and dangerously low. Feeling like it would just fall out if she took a step too wide. Yet she remained strong, persevering and weathering the storm in her uterus, determined to keep this baby inside of her until she got somewhere safe.

The second the pain let up an inch the witch was on the move again running as fast as she could across the forest floor. Over ferns and moss, rocks and fallen branches, thankfully the hardened soles of her bare feet were used to the uneven terrain. She made sure to keep off the main footpath and stayed hidden within the dense trees, but it made for more of an obstacle course than she’d like. With added weight of her labouring belly she couldn’t move at speed and on a few occasions nearly lost her balance. But deeper and deeper into the forest she went.

The trees became her allies, providing cover and support when she was forced to stop with each new powerful contraction… 90 seconds apart... 60 seconds apart. A large, ancient willow tree with an unusually curved trunk was the latest comrade in her fight for survival. Eva had pitched herself within the alcove of the trunk, out of sight and leaning back against the bark, lifting the weight of her hardened stomach with both hands. The long hanging branches brushed the forest floor in a circle around her position, hiding the witch behind a nature-made curtain.

“Grnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Eva could no longer hold in the animalistic sounds of her extremely advanced labour. The baby was right there, nestled deep in her widened cervix, desperate to be born.

“Nooooooooo-please-baby-wait-a-bit-moreeeeeee-” she begged through gritted teeth. The next contraction started before the current had even finished and the need to push was too powerful to refrain. Knees bending and thighs widening, Eva’s body pushed of its own accord.

It felt right, pushing. It was what she was meant to be doing - to follow nature's primal instinct. And yet she couldn’t forget the very real threat of the witch hunter, still hidden somewhere in this forest, poised and primed to kill her.

The fierce contraction continued to hold her hostage. A long grunt escaped her mouth as her body pushed along with the pain.

“I can hear you, witch!” A gravelled voice taunted from across the thick forest.

Eva’s eyes widened and immediately clamped her mouth shut, biting her lips together drawing blood. Half squatting against the tree, every muscle in her body continued to strain as it forced the baby lower and lower and lower. She couldn’t stop pushing even if she tried. One of the hands cradling her stomach shakily ventured south, lifting up her dress and feeling between her legs. Through the thin damp fabric of her underwear she could feel the baby’s head begin to enter the world.

She panted silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. The forest stretched out for miles, completely uninhabited in all directions; she was all alone. There was nowhere to go and no one to help. Heavily pregnant, being hunted, and seconds away from birthing this child.

A loud snap of wood echoed from a few metres away. Eva suddenly bolted like a startled deer, consumed entirely by fear and survival, and disappeared again into the thickened wood. She ran, wide legged, the heavy boulder of a baby’s head deep in her pelvis screaming to be born. Push! Her body cried out. Stop running and PUSH!

But she couldn’t. If she stopped she’d be dead.

Another contraction ripped through her as she ran. 30 seconds apart. Her muscles tensed and squeezed as she ran, her body trying to force the baby out despite the mother’s desire to hold on a bit longer. She could barely stay upright, the raw adrenaline no longer enough to keep this birth at bay. Her legs became jelly, all she could feel was pain and pressure and fear. Eva faltered, she couldn’t go any further. Out in the open she planted her hands against the nearest tree, widening her stance, and pushed. Hard.

“Mnnnnnnnrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!”

More of her baby’s head began to appear behind the fabric of her tight underwear.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh-Hecateeeeeeeeeeee!” she whimpered, praying to the deity.

Her baby was close to fully crowning, she could feel it. The white hot agony of being widened and stretched beyond anything she imagined made her eyes water and throat nauseous. She retched, a dry heave, and desperately tried to catch a breath through the dual need to push and the sudden urge to vomit. The texture of the rough bark beneath her palms was the only thing keeping the witch semi-grounded and preventing her getting swept away in the overwhelming sensations currently tearing her body apart. Still bracing the tree, Eva’s head dipped as she took slow deep breaths, ignoring the instinct to push in order to ride out the sudden nausea.

An ominous whistling sound drifted through the trees carried on the wind. Eva could barely hear it over the thundering beating of her heart, that is until she heard:

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The voice sang.

The witch hunter was close. But so was her baby... Eva felt between her legs again to evaluate just how bad her situation was. It was bad. Her underwear was stretched beyond repair as it housed a significant portion of her baby’s head, filling her cupped palm. Ignoring all the pain and her body’s pleas to push, she panted heavily and tried to think! She needed a plan to survive.

The witch hunter had physical strength, yes, but he did not know these woods like Eva did. This was her home, her sanctuary, and she knew every inch like the back of her hand. Beyond her laboured breaths and the unnerving whistling of the approaching witch hunter, Eva registered another sound nearby - the swooshing sound of running water. The river - she was by the river!

Lifting her head the witch frantically scanned the surrounding area, getting her bearings of where she’d ended up within the woodland. She was a few hundred yards from the river’s edge, about a mile from her cottage. It wasn’t an area she often visited because of…. That’s it! Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, and there was no way to know if it would work, but it was her only shot of survival.

She took a steadying breath through the current contraction squeezing her womb, fighting once more against the primal need to push. The baby’s head filled her underwear, millimetres from a full crown. If she pushed again there was no way she’d be able to stop until the head was fully born.

Whimpering through the pain Eva stood up straight, one hand staying between her legs, and she prepared herself to move. Just get to the river. She told herself before making her way unsteadily east.

The sound of rushing water grew louder as she stumbled slowly through the forest. One step. Another step. Nearly there. She knew exactly where to go, and where to avoid, desperately trying to stay focussed on her surroundings and not succumb to the agonising pain crowning between her thighs. Keep going.

“You can’t escape me, witch!” The voice threatened, getting closer.

Eva stumbled into the side of a tree, her bare shoulder scraping against the bark. Pausing, she took a brief moment to breathe through the pain. It was a mistake. The second she stopped to inhale deeply her body started bearing down again, forcing the baby down. Immediately the head came to a full crown in her damp underwear and she screamed.

“WITCH!” The murderous voice roared.

Eva turned and saw a flash of black leather through the distant trees, and it was coming her way. Cupping the baby’s head she tentatively wobbled forwards, knees trembling, staggering towards the riverbank. The blinding pain was constant, her eyes barely focussing. She had to make it to the exact right spot or her plan would certainly fail. Her footsteps were shaky but determined as she continued the last few carefully placed steps in her journey. Behind her the crunching sound of a disturbed forest floor drew ever closer.

Reaching the river’s edge Eva collapsed against the large boulder that sat on the grassy bank. She made it. Turning around against the stone, the cold granite pressed against her back as she faced the woods and waited for the imminent arrival of the witch hunter. But the baby’s head inched lower, her body stretched to its absolute limit. She wanted to cry, to howl, to scream. Instead she focussed inward, drawing on all the power from the earth under her feet, and taking a deep breath she finally, and intentionally, followed her body’s demands. Teeth gritted, a growl behind them, she pushed with everything she had. Her whole body trembled, bearing down against the pressure of the large round head slowly appearing between her thighs. The ears… a nose… she could feel it all. Her hands frantically scrambled under her dress and within seconds the baby’s head popped out into her underwear and she cupped it quickly within her palm. The relief was instant and for a brief moment Eva’s heart calmed as she held her child’s newly born crown.

The witch’s reprieve was short-lived as the approaching footsteps from behind one of the nearby trees resulted in another person soon entering the river's edge. The witch hunter was dark haired, full beard, but was not as athletic as Eva was expecting. There was sweat glistening on his temple and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath a thick leather jacket. His mouth practically drooled at the sight of her and he gripped the long hunting knife in his hand. The lust for her death was haunting.

“At last… you’ve given it a good go, I’ll give you that, but you cannot escape your fate.” The man said as he took a step towards her, threateningly swishing the knife in readiness. “You are an abomination, evil incarnate. Witchcraft has no place here. My family has been taking your lot out for centuries. And it looks like I get the honour of not only killing you… but the next generation as well.” He glared at her pregnant swell.

“No- no! This- this child is innocent…” Eva panted, still holding the head of her half-born babe hidden under the draped fabric of her dress.

The witch hunter scoffed and took another two ominous steps in her direction through the fallen autumn leaves. Eva watched each step with a laser focus.

“No descendant of a witch is truly innocent.” He drawled, tilting his head with an unnerving animalistic incline. “Wickedness will run through its veins, there is no saving its soul.”

Eva couldn’t take her eyes off his feet, watching every step he took. She chose this location for a reason, knowing she needed to end up exactly here by the rivers edge - dangerously using herself as bait. His heavy boots crunched through the orange leaves, sauntering slowly towards her like he was toying with his prey. So close. Her heart stopped, breath held as Eva prayed to all the Goddesses for her plan to work. Then whoosh!

The witch hunter was suddenly hoisted in the air by his foot, caught in a primitive trap laid here many years ago by the previous inhabitants of these woods, whom were long dead and forgotten. The man roared as he was pulled sharply towards the sky, his arms flailing, the hunting knife falling from his hand in his shock.

Eva exhaled heavily and closed her eyes in pure relief. The steady thumping of heart pulsed around her body, beating once more now the immediate threat disappeared. The man yelled and shouted at her as he hung limply from the tree, but the sound barely registered with the witch. Her senses had been overtaken by the sudden movement of the baby, turning inside her, and an all too familiar urgent weight pressing down signalling her work was not yet over.

Eva tried to move but she was too far gone, too deep in labour, every muscle seemingly locked in position. “Unhhhhhhhh Hecate….. mnnnggghhhhh the baby- the baby is comingg…..” she whimpered, the pain splitting her in half as she was stretched once more with the baby’s shoulders. All her bodyweight was pressed back against the boulder, and she managed to sink towards the ground. Squatting deeply, her large rounded stomach rested heavily between her thighs.

“Ohhhh it’s coming…. I- need… mnghhhhhhhh I’ve got to… got to pushh...”

She ripped off her underwear as the next contraction started, freeing the baby’s head from the confines of the damp linen. With both hands ready to catch, the witch pushed with renewed determination. “Urghhhhhhhhhhhh!” One shoulder was out! Then the next shoulder. She took a breath, panting, holding the child dangling from her body. Eva became suddenly hyper-aware of the breeze and leaves, the nearby river and the crisp autumn air, all the elements surrounding them which her child was now being born directly into. Trembling, she beared down fiercely once more and within another few minutes a newly born witch entered the world.

Eva sobbed with relief, quickly pulling her daughter up over her stomach and placing her against her chest. The infant made a soft gurgling sound, her first breath, and then started to cry. To a new mother it was the most beautiful and reassuring sound in the world.

“Disgusting…. Filthy little vermin.” The witch hunter sneered with venom.

Eva had forgotten her audience and looked up with hatred at the man still swinging upside down from the tree. She held her baby tight and secure against her skin, as if shielding the child from the mere sight of him.

“You should drown that thing in the river.” He spat.

Red, blinding fury overwhelmed the new mother. With the pain gone and her baby safe in arms, pure fury raced through every pore of the witch’s body, consuming every atom of her being. Rising slowly, babe still clutched in hand, Eva approached the hanging man with eyes glowing with revenge.

“When I get free, I'm gonna enjoy splitting you from ear to ear!” He roared.

Her head tilted in observation watching the man’s disgusting arrogance in his determination to kill her despite still struggling against the rope binding his leg. Apparently unaware his threats were idle and his attempts to escape the trap were futile.

The witch bent down carefully to pick up the large silver blade that had fallen amongst the browning leaves. The man didn’t see the new mother pick up his weapon, and didn't notice the switch when the hunted became the hunter. Eva stalked silently, murderously towards the hanging man.

Before he could open his mouth to mock or belittle or challenge her, Eva’s hand swished past his vision in a flash, the blade gliding through the witch hunter's throat like a knife through butter. The man’s eyes widened, taking a heartbeat to register what just happened, before the cascade of blood erupted from the open wound and he began to choke and splutter.

Eva dropped the knife.

Delicately readjusting and shhhing the newborn cradled in her arm, she took one final look and started their journey back to the cottage. Eva found comfort in the sounds of the forest; of the flowing river, the whistle of a breeze, and the drip drip dripping of her enemies blood now pooling onto the forest floor.

#birth kink #pregnant kink #clothing birth #panty birth #birth denial #public birth #forest birth #giving birth #birth fic #birth fiction #fpreg birth #tw: blood #tw: death #my writing

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mapileonxputellas · 7 months

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Beckham II: 1 New Beginning

Please find instagram aesthetic here.

Post here explains how I've wrote it, I think it's quite simple.

This is the first part of my new series and I hope you enjoy xx (3k words)

“Do you ever think about how crazy it is that you’re an icon in Barcelona and yet your dad played for Real Madrid?”

“I try not to think about that. I think that bothers him more than me.”

“Does he have any Barcelona shirts?”

“Of course he does.”

…..

“David, how does it feel watching your daughter play for Barcelona?”

“It’s the best feeling in the world. I’m guessing you were expecting some kind of rivalry but I’ll always support my daughter.”

…..

Barcelona, February 2023.

One down, nine to go.

It was like clockwork in your brain. Training would finish, everyone else would rush to get back into the training room and get back to their everyday life. Yet here you were, on your own, just how you like it. You and the ball. Free kick after free kick after free kick. Ten in total, all from different areas, all with different aims but each one just as equally important in your brain.

Barcelona was a dream. You were here with the best players in the world but you hated letting anyone down. Every little mistake was over-analysed, picked at all because of who you were. At the weekend it was a wonder save which stopped one nestling in the top corner but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t gone in and therefore didn’t meet your expectations.

The expectations you put on yourself, multiplied by that moment four years ago.

You loved your father but many people probably didn’t understand that there wasn’t a gene for taking good free kicks.

Unbeknownst to you, all of this was about to change. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“If it’s another journalist, tell them I’m not interested.”

You couldn’t be bothered with whatever reply the press officer would tell you. It was the same every day. Someone wanted to speak to you, you said no. They came back the next day.

You’d think they’d get bored after four years of consistent turn aways but that was never the case. You did the press conferences, the interviews after games but a sit-down full-length interview was not something you felt like you could ever handle.

So you carried on, resetting the ball in the correct spot. Back to just you and the ball.

For February it was a sunny afternoon in Barcelona, the sun was still shining for the mid-afternoon with minimal wind. Perfect conditions to practice and as your teammates had pointed out you hadn’t needed any more persuasion to get that training vest on, your tattoos on full show. Along with football they were your biggest passion, your phone was full of tattoo inspiration and little doodles you did when you were bored, they were a big part of you and maybe the image you wanted to create for yourself.

You took inspiration from everything, football, the environment, your father. Growing up many would say you were already a carbon copy of him but the tattoos were the icing on the cake. Your mother may not have been as happy about them but they promised to accept all your passions and that included turning up every few months with a new collection of tattoos to show off.

…..

“Maria, is she copying you?”

“You’ll have to ask her. No of course not, I would say we take great inspiration from each other. We’ve got a few matching ones, I’ve done a few on her and she’s done the same to me. That’s kind of what started our friendship.”

“You both have ‘looks can be deceiving’ on your necks, is that true for her?”

“Depends on what you think of her. Maybe some find her scary but you have to find out if that’s true yourself.”

…..

You could hear someone approaching you, watching as you took the next kick nestling it into the bottom corner underneath the imaginary wall.

“Y/N, have you got five minutes?” The unmistakable voice of Sarina. Many people would love Serena Weigman to turn up at their training session, not you. Not now.

Shit. You almost didn’t want to turn around. Maybe if you stayed facing the other way she would leave. Leave you be in the bubble you’d created for yourself, nothing good could come out of this conversation.

But of course the Dutch woman wasn’t going to leave that easily, edging closer to you. “I only want to talk.”

“I gave you my answer a year ago.”

“Lots can change in a year. Five minutes. If you still want me to leave after, I’ll leave.”

Maybe it was worth hearing what she had to say. Nothing could change your mind anyway, you’d hear whatever she had to say and then she could leave.

You knew what she was here for and it didn’t surprise you what came out of her mouth next. “I want you back, I name my squad next week and I want you ready to play for us at the World Cup.”

“And I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The fans are not that accepting, the players don’t deserve to be drawn into that drama because of me.”

“There’s always drama in football.” Maybe she had a point but off the back of the Euro’s success the lionesses have had nothing but positivity from the media and public. “We’ve lost Beth, we’ve lost Fran and I think the players would welcome your experience in that position. It’s your decision but I know deep down you want to prove people wrong and I want to give you that opportunity.”

“Some would say I don’t deserve that.”

“It will be different this time.”

“How?”

“It’s been four years, everything’s changed. We protect you guys, you have support systems in place, we have support systems. It’s not individuals anymore, it’s a team.”

“I made that decision to protect myself.” Almost four years ago you’d sent that letter, asking not to be selected for international duty again. They had no choice but to accept it and when Serena came into the role she approached you but you told her a tournament on home soil was not something you could mentally cope with. Not yet. “Why would now be different?”

“I’ve watched every game you’ve played in the last 18 months. I know you may not see a difference in yourself but I do, the interview after you lost to Lyon showed your spirit, your drive. I need players like you, it won’t be easy but I don’t want something that happened four years ago to stop you showing the world how talented you are.”

You were conflicted. Of course you’d love nothing more than to prove all those who bashed you before wrong, to make a difference on the world stage after winning every trophy you could with Barcelona. On the other hand it was just opening a can of worms you’d hidden all those years ago. Although you were only in Spain it felt like a different world, you turned your comments off on social media and they never came back on. Interviews were a no-go and your former friends were now distant acquaintances.

“Can I think about?”

“Of course you can. Like I said, the squad goes out on Tuesday so I need an answer by Monday. Any questions, I’m coming to the match on Sunday, maybe I can speak to you after?”

“Thank you.” With a soft squeeze to your shoulder she was off, except now you couldn’t focus knowing you were about to make a decision which would change everything.

…..

“You seem distracted.”

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to accept the dinner invite from Maria and Ingrid but you knew your best friends wouldn’t take no for an answer. The three of you along with Frido were sat at their dinner table, tucking into the tapas you’d ordered from your favourite restaurant and it wasn’t lost on any of them how your mind was elsewhere. Casually picking through your food was a total opposite to the way you usually devoured this.

“Y/N?”

You’d been debating on the way whether to speak to someone about it.

Maybe your dad? He’d gone through something similar but he was in Miami and would only just be getting up.

Your mum? She was the most rational option but she would never understand that pride of pulling on your national shirt.

Your therapist seemed the best option but the earliest session she had for non-emergencies was tomorrow.

“Y/N!” In your own little world you’d even forgot to answer their questions. “Are you alright?”

It could help speaking to them, couldn’t it? “I had a visitor after training. Sarina Weigman.”

“Shit man, I thought you said no.” Maria Leon was your best friend from the moment you stepped foot in that training room, you bonded over everything from tattoos to food. You’d been her wingman in getting with Ingrid and had a mutual understanding of each other’s situations with your respective national teams even if the circumstances were very different.

“She wants me back but I don’t know, this feels different from last year.” If Bonnie, your 5-year-old beagle, adopted 3 years ago to signify a new chapter in your life, wasn’t by your feet they would definitely be anxiously tapping the floor right now.

“They probably feel your absence more because they’ve lost other players.” Frido added some context. “Not that you wouldn’t have always walked into that team but now you definitely would. You’d be their main player.”

“I can see you’re considering it.” Ingrid pointed out. “When she came last year I could see you were like, definitely no, now you haven’t turned it down immediately.”

“There’s no right or way wrong to feel,” Maria tried to comfort me. “Only you can decide if you want to go back there.”

“I miss it.”

“Of course you do.” Ingrid agreed. “You wouldn’t watch all their games if you didn’t.”

“It’s just the fact that I’m comfortable here, I have been for so long and now I’m going to throw myself back into four years ago.” Four years ago when you’d been forced to move away from your club at the time in Chelsea and accept the fact that one mistake had changed everything. “Plus the media attention, no-one wants that in the lead up to the world cup.”

“They were your friends, I’m sure they’d understand.” Frido tried to make you see that side of things. “Shit happens in football but what happened to you when completely over the top of that.”

“I isolated them.” Of course you had friends in the squad at the time, in fact best friends. But as soon as you made the move to America you slowly distanced yourself from them as they did to you. You hated letting them down and completely understood that being associated to you meant unnecessary exposure where perhaps they would not want it.

“So you’ll make friends again.”

You’d changed as well, grown into a completely different person in that time. Your appearance and attitude on the pitch were a distinct opposite to the crippling shyness you had yet to shake off. “Maybe.”

“You will,” Maria assured you. “Plus I think Bonnie told me she wanted a sleepover with me.”

“Oh did she?”

“I’m not swaying you either way but if that’s what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

“We all will.” Frido added wrapping her arms around you to bring you into her side. “We love you.”

“Thank you, I love you all too.”

“Speak to your dad, maybe even your mum. I’m sure they’d want to help.”

One of the funniest moments in your life had to be watching your teammates introduce themselves to your parents when they came out to watch your first match in the Blaugrana. Watching their nerves dissipate when they realised how down to earth, especially your mother was, when it came to their children. Of course their name brought so much extra attention to you but you couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing.

Maybe it was their words that made you do it but subconsciously you knew the best thing to do was to ring them. So as you got into bed that night, once you got back, Bonnie at your feet watching, you rang the number you’d had memorised for years.

“Hi baby.” His voice almost brought tears to your eyes. Although you tried to be as independent as possible, wanting to be your own person, you sometimes wished you could just go back to spending every night in his arms.

“Hi dad.”

“What’s wrong?” You hated how easily he could read you, how those two words were enough for him to know something was wrong.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know dad.” Out with it. “Sarina Weigman came to visit me today, she wants me to go and join them in the next international break.”

“And what do you want?”

“I think I want to.”

“You think?”

“I just know that if I do I’m just going to be brought back to that moment.”

“Then you’ll go back to a moment where the referees made a terrible decision. Football fans are fickle you know that as much as I do but you’ve watched it back enough to know that nine times out of ten nothing happens. The commentator did you no favours, Phil didn’t stand by you as he should have and the media hung you out to dry.”

“I know.”

“But as awful as it was it made you the person you are today and your stronger now then you’ve ever been before. If you want to go back then you’ll make it work. I know you will.”

“Thanks dad, now how is…”

,,,,,

“How many times have you watched that tackle back?”

“Over a thousand times.”

“Do you think you should have been sent off?”

“Of course not.”

……

You loved Barcelona, from the moment you stepped through those doors 3 years ago you’d been welcomed in and never looked back. In 2019 you moved to America but your year out there was plagued with depression and homesickness resulting in a lack of game time, when Barcelona came calling it was a difficult decision with your family ties but they had a project, they had a good set up and you knew the onus wouldn’t just be on you. The first six months were still tough, working out Spanish football to both play with your teammates and counter the opposition but by the end of the season you felt at home for the first time in 2 years.

Your role this year had been heightened by the loss of one of your midfield partners in Alexia, but you were adaptable and that’s probably how you found yourself 4-0 up, having just scored a second goal in the second half.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to impress someone.” Mapi whispered giving you a half hug as you walked back into your own half.

“Shut up.”

“I bet she’s panicking that you might turn it down now.”

“She’s got other players Maria.”

“But none of them are you.”

The match stayed at 4-0, some of the youngsters coming on to see the game out.

You’d never been in a team like this, of course you had little arguments and there were small groups within the team, but everyone worked so hard for each other. And with that came the protectiveness, when you joined you were only 21, now 24 and the older ones took you under their wings. You’d been daunted a lot at the fact of playing fellow English players in the Champions League but they’d been your shield for those moments.

It blew your mind when the younger age groups joined you and they speak about that moment. Most of them staying up late to watch it making you feel old. But that meant they came to you for advice a lot of the time. Maybe this time though it was time to get advice from them.

“Hey little one.” Maria Perez was the first one you spotted in the changing room. “You played really well today.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling about being called up?” It was only yesterday that the Spanish squad had been leaked and she was once again in it.

“Excited, another opportunity to prove myself.”

“I like that you see it that way.”

“Everyone should, it’s no different to playing here, as long as you be yourself you can never be disappointed.”

…….

@jillsmithjournalist: Serena Weigman is present at the Barcelona match. No current England players are playing however star player Y/N Beckham scored twice. Beckham has not played for England since she withdrew from selection in August 2019 amid public backlash and a rumoured feud with England manager Phil Neville. Could a return be on the cards?

@newlionesses_x: Surely she can’t just pick and choose when to come back.

@wslfan: Fine without her last year

@england123: Liability for England

@barcelonafan: All you hating on Beckham are crazy, one of the best players in the world and you don’t want her back because of something that happened 4 years ago, grow up. Could tell she struggled when she joined us but this past year she’s been exceptional, people change, mistakes happen (even though she should never have been sent off in the first place)

…..

You’ve known your decision for a long time but you still delayed giving it as long as possible before you could wait no longer. You could see she was the only one left in the hospitality area as you entered, the table she had chose overlooking the pitch you’d just performed on.

This was what you wanted and now it felt only right to give yourself that opportunity again.

“I’ll do it.”

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #lionesses #engwnt #david beckham #beckham #football

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flightlessangelwings · 10 months

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FlightlessAngelWings Kinkotber 2023 Prompt List!

Here it is, the Kinktober Prompt List!!

Compiled by myself and edited/peer reviewed/approved by my bestie @the-purity-pen who had made fantastic prompt lists in the past (and who also made the beautiful graphics for me)!! This list has a little bit of everything from more vanilla to more hardcore prompts so there’s a little something for everyone, or to branch out and try something new if you feel like it!

Write fics, make art, graphics, gifs, moodboards, whatever your heart desires!! Any type of creations are welcome too: reader insert, oc, ships, original works, anything!

Have fun and be creative!!

Below the cut are 31 days of prompts for the month of October! Each day has 3 choices with a free space day on the 31st!

Because of the nature of the event, this is 18+ ONLY! Minors interacting or participating will be blocked!

Please tag me @flightlessangelwings and use the hastag #fawktober2023 and I’ll share your works!

Please use proper warnings in your posts with this event as some of the prompts may not be for everyone. And if you’re doing a reader insert, please work to be inclusive of your writing/art!

No kinkshaming please! I made this list to be varied so there may be things on here you hate. That’s ok! There’s things here that even I don’t like but I designed it that way so there’s something for everyone! But that’s also why tags and warnings are so important!!

Reblog this post so others and find this list and to share the fun!! And don’t forget to reblog other people’s work too throughout October and support each other!!

If none of the prompts for the day speak to you, feel free to pull from another day if you want! Don’t feel pressured at all! Have fun with it!!

List under the cut in graphic and text format!

Banner free to use for your posts with credit to @the-purity-pen 💖

Both dividers by the lovely @saradika ❤️

Love bites * Overstimulation * Impact play

Bath/shower * Public * Knife play

69 * Exhibitionism * Monster au

Thigh riding * Sex pollen * Forced orgasm

Table sex * Threesome * Sensory deprivation

Sexting/phone sex * A/B/O * Bondage

Slow and soft * Partner swap * Spanking

Cockwarming * Temperature play * Rough sex

Role play * Pegging * Hunter/prey

Stripping * Anal * Double penetration

Seduction * Blindfold * Degradation

Formal wear * Glove kink * Gun play

Body worship * Being recorded * Anonymous sex

Tit/nipple play * Object insertion * BDSM

Against a wall * Size kink * Free use

Lap dance * Role reversal * Whipping

Praise kink * Rimming * Tentacles

Masturbation * Squirting * Dacryphilia (crying/emotional release)

Hand job * Voyeurism * Somnophilia

Sex toys * Orgy/group * Corruption

Romantic sex * Piercings * Hate sex

Voice kink * Virginity * Fisting

Dirty talk * Begging * CNC

Lingerie * Edging * Leather/latex

Mirror sex * Orgasm denial * Breeding

Face sitting * Deep throating * Choking

Food play * Period sex * Wax play

Blowjobs * Intercrural sex * Cock rings

Fingering * Cream pie * Gagging

Cunnilingus * Costumes * Breath play

FREE SPACE

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anodymalion · 19 days

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ok I am in fact using this as an excuse to make a long post about this thank you thank you asjksdjfaljdf

---

Interpreting Yuri as asexual is my very very favorite type of headcanon, which is one that 1. is compellingly coded in the source material (even if that wasn't the creator's intent), 2. is thematically relevant to what the piece of media is Trying To Do as a whole, and 3. just means a lot to me, personally, because I said so.

Coded in the source material

Yuri’s short program is “eros”, aka desire (you can interpret what “eros” means in various ways, but YOI itself explicitly refers to sexual love, at least in the English translations). Yuri struggles with this. Hard. He can’t come up with an answer when asked what eros means to him. His big revelatory moment about desire is that it’s how he feels about wanting to eat his favorite food (omg… boy). Even as the season goes on and the way he views the Eros program changes, the program doesn’t ever really embody the idea of eros as sexuality or romance (which was how the other characters expect him to interpret it) but rather as a desire to keep Victor in his life.

Like look. I’m obviously not going to say that the creator intended any kind of ace subtext to be there. I kind of doubt it was her intent. But goddamn is the subtext there.

2. Thematic relevance

The central theme throughout YOI is “love”, and especially loving people in a way that inspires you both to be your best selves: Yuri learning that the people in his life truly love and support him; Victor finding someone who makes him feel joy about skating again.

Like, Yuri’s whole skating theme for the Grand Prix is literally about him exploring what love looks like to him, even when it takes a form that other people don’t totally understand. Viewing all this through a lens of him being ace is really compelling. It adds depth to the idea of learning how to express the way you feel love even when it looks different than what other people expect. I think it’s a really delicious layer that adds even more nuance to what the show is getting at.

Besides, it’s an interesting way of viewing the criticism of the show that occurred for it not being 100% explicit about them being a couple (aka people getting mad because the kiss in ep 7 is blocked by Victor’s arm lmaooo). Like, ok, did you see the ending scene of ep 9? Did you see ep 10??? They definitely, definitely love each other, in whatever way that means for them. Their relationship takes a form that’s pretty different than the other way people in the show are going about romantic relationships, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real for them. That is very much in line with the main themes of the show.

3. Means a lot to me

In the final scene of the penultimate episode, Yuri tells Victor that they should end their coaching relationship after the Grand Prix ends. This is because he thinks he’s holding Victor back, that Victor would be happier being free to go back to skating on his own instead of being Yuri’s coach. When I watched this (and, I’ll be honest, this is completely me projecting here) I REALLY interpreted this as an ace thing. I think it’s pretty easy to internalize the idea when you’re asexual that you just won’t be… enough, for other people. In my case I ended up a strong impulse to self-sabotage relationships because I would rather be the one to end things than to let someone else tell me that who I am as a person is fundamentally lacking. Yuri destroying a connection he desperately wants because he thinks there’s something about him that is holding Victor back from a life he’d be truly happy with? Oh yeah. I can fucking relate to that.

Also: YOI came out in 2016, which was the absolute peak of hostility to ace people I was seeing on this site. It was bad here. At the same time Tumblr was going wild over this show. Everyone was watching it. Seeing a whole site of people absolutely adore a character I very deeply in my heart believed to be ace? Extremely vindicating.

---

In conclusion Yuri is asexual because it is fun and interesting that way, and also because of this:

#like it adds so much to the show if you view it through this lens! it's really good!#same reason for why I hc zuko as gay like ->#yeah ok you don't *have* to see it this way... but don't you want to live deliciously (in your media analysis)???#yoi #yuri on ice #thank u for giving me the excuse to finally post about this lol this has been building in my head for literally the last 8 years

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primofate · 1 year

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The Ruthless Prince: Illustrated on Paperback book (Giveaway!)

LAST 24 HOURS EVERYONE!

LASTHello everyone! After hundreds of hurdles and an infinite amount of time I’m finally able to publish The Ruthless Prince on Amazon!

I know this may seem like I’m gunning for money, but please don’t misunderstand, this is just something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, print my own book! (Also the whole story is still available on tumblr FOR FREE, it’s your own choice whether or not to support me by buying the paperback/ebook version)

I’m well aware that this is fanfiction, so before anyone goes ahead and messages me that I’m not allowed to sell fanmade items, Mihoyo very much allows the sale of fanmade items, all you have to do is send in an application!

Nevertheless, original story, fanfiction, whatever it may be...I believe that this is still a work of art. I’m just glad that I was able to see it through.

On to the good stuff!

The whole story is still available on tumblr but the paperback/ebook edition has some extras, mainly:

1. Two extra chapters

2. There are 6 coloured illustrations included.

GIVEAWAY TIME! (under the cut)

I really appreciate all the love that everyone has given me here on tumblr. So I decided that I would give 7 lucky followers of mine a copy of the paperback version.

Here are the steps you need to enter the giveaway:

1. Reblog this post!

2. You don’t have to follow me, but if you do I’ll add your username twice into the lottery! (I do want these books to go to my loyal followers so I’ll consider adding your username a third time if I know you’ve stayed with me for a while and have interacted with my posts a lot!)

3. Enter your username and email into this form and you’re good to go! Please note that if you change your tumblr username/email address and for some reason I can’t contact you, I will have to draw another winner from the lot.

Giveaway ends on 17th February 2023 10pm PST, winners will be announced and contacted individually by 18th February 2023 10pm PST! Please note that it may take up to a month for the book to arrive at your doorstep!

If you want to buy the ebook/paperback book, you can get it here on Amazon. (The paperback version doesn’t ship worldwide unfortunately so you can only get it if you are in a certain country) It now ships worldwide!

Thank you so much for sticking with me on this journey! :)

#scaramouche #genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche au #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin #genshin royal au #genshin impact fanfiction

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puppypeter · 7 months

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I very rarely think about storylines for royjamie after richmond (because it breaks my heart a little to think of anyone of the team leaving) but like it's possible that jamie would choose to stay with richmond his whole career, it's also possible that the people at richmond itself would push for him to play for *insert the name of whatever other european football team is considered the best* and he becomes a proper super star, being invited for fancy events and shit.

(In a made up world where Ted stayed in London) Roy and Jamie got together while at richmond and now Roy travels with him everywhere as his own personal coach / PA / secret boyfriend / man behind the camera of every instagram post / personal grumpy cat / number one fan / emotional support teddy bear / personal chef etc He loves being with him 24/7 and finds it fulfilling to still be involved with football and helping someone be the best they can be but without the added pressure of having to constantly step outside his comfort zone that he'd have experienced being a manager to a whole team (he's doing good with being vulnerable with Jamie, he can do it with one person that he loves and he is still going to therapy for himself to work through his own trauma/CEN/grief and is focusing on learning to be in his skin as a human being and not this fucked up idea of masculinity he's got in his head) And Roy has a private instagram account under a random username where he follows and is followed only by the richmond team/coaches/Rebecca/Higgins + Keely + Georgie & Simon + his sister and he only uses it to post pictures of food, nature, weird shit he finds in the cities they visit, and his fit boyfriend. Since it's friends only he does use captions ("the muppet had a late night last night" with a picture of Jamie asleep on the floor) and all the himbos love to comment, especially Dani's "Sexy muchachos #JOY" under every single picture.

"night out post Milan fashion week with the muppet and some lovely faces i have missed"

"one handsome dressed-up muppet in Paris"

"Elopement fit check #MyMuppet" (which sends everyone in a melt down) Here's some pics of Roy that Jamie posts instead (in his photo dumps to be sneaky but there's really a lot of roy on his profile - also they 100% got a puppy!!). Also think the proper first post containing only Roy that Jamie would post would be after they elope and it would melt down the internet (the in-universe royjamie rpf-ers especially)

(the last one is such a slutty roy pic *cough cough*)

"Roy Kent always remains 💙🪢" (somebody feel free to make an actual ig posts edit of this with better pics/captions if you fancy I will do nothing but cry and thank you forever because I have no skills but I cannot stop thinking about these muppets getting married!!)

#I chose that outfit for jamie for them eloping because i fucking love it!!!#everyone would be fucking furious #but they'll have a proper wedding later #also very aware that this wouldn't happen because roy would never live so far from his sister and phoebe #but one can imagine most of the travelling happening off season maybe? or him travelling back and forth #maybe the muppet plays for a team not too far from London? (Paris?)#and they still have their London home and get back as much as they can because that's their forever home and they miss all their friends/fa #*family #royjamie #roy x jamie #jamieroy #jamie x roy #I need Brett to do more photoshoots cause I was really struggling to find a good fancy suit pic of him with no other people/background

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whimsical-roasting · 11 months

Note

You reblogged that Sam gifs post and it reminded me of that headcanon i have of being Sam’s friend but you’re feisty and take no one’s shit. Like he’s always takes the high road and you’re like when they go low i go lowER. I would fight that Akufo dude for him no questions asked.

hi wifey <3 you are absolutely right!! i fucking love that idea of Sam having a bestie who'd throw hands for him.. it's on sight all the time.

special thanks to @sokkigarden for bouncing ideas off me, love you bby. okay, i wanna write about being friends w the AFC Richmond boys more, so if yall have ANY thoughts on being friends with ANY of the lads then send me requests on it so we can DISCUSS

OKAY BUT BEING BESTIES WITH SAM OBISANYA

he's such a wholesome and loyal friend... a breath of fresh air yknow?? Dani is more of that 'unconditional sunshine' energy, but Sam is positive whilst still keeping it real w you

and sooo you're hella loyal to him too. well, you're loyal to everyone you care about. you'd take a bullet for them, no questions asked, but probs a lot of cussing involved (same, but i'll come back to this)

sharing an airpod each if yall go out on a walk or join the team on a bus ride - if you're dating jamie then he NEEDS you next to him on the ride back, probs uses your shoulder to sleep on and has an arm around your waist so you can't leave, but that's a diff post ahahaha

having a shared spotify playlist that you both keep adding music too...the vibes are all over the place. "Y/N, I was trying to jam out to J.Cole, and then Adele came on??" "Oh yea, I was sad bout something earlier"

blanket forts and microwaveable caramel popcorn for when he's missing home

playing as him in FIFA when you're with the lads and yellin "YEA THATS MY BESTIE" every time you score as him

pinching his earlobes like his dad would for good luck on the days of a big match/when he's really nervous

since opening OLA'S, you join him when he attends small business owner conventions, but that's mainly to try the free food

since i'm vegetarian, telling him that his menu looks great but you can only stick to sumn like the jollof rice.. so next month when he invites you over to his restaurant for a catchup dinner there's a whole new lil section for vegetarian dishes on the menu (or whatever dietary inclusivr thingy etc.)

warning Sam about Afuko because "a man simply doesn't feed you pasta and lobster and send you a stack without something in mind" and him being like ??? what and you groan, "did you watch the tiktoks I sent you??"

hearing about how the Afuko rejection went and Sam only focusses on "he called me medium talent??" and you're SEETHING

you're like "what the living F U C K" and he's like "oh hey Y/N, don't worry, I know I am not medium talent" and you're like "what? no, shut up, obviously not, but that's not the POINT here. how did that ASSHOLE have the audacity to speak to you like that?!!"

you're searching up flights to Nigeria and opening a google map from the airport to Afuko's business residence or something, and Sam is like, "seriously, forget that guy. bullet dodged." and you're angrily muttering about how Afuko's gonna have to dodge the bazooka you're gonna smuggle onto the plane

"We cannot be best friends if you end up in jail because you tried to smuggle a bazooka onto the plane." "I just wanna talk to him...with a bazooka." "No." "Pleas-" "No."

telling Sam you might be getting feelings for Jamie and being nervous he'd be mad because of their relationship in S1, but you promise he's changed, and Sam is like, I know

wearing the Obisanya jersey and the rest of the boys are like 'hey why don't you ever support our merch' so like every match you're switching out jerseys before texting a pic to the groupchat

running into that Francis guy who's Afuko's right-hand man and "accidentally" stepping on his foot real hard like OOPS

giving him updates on your love life and vice versa. "Y/N, please tell me this one is not a loser." "Um, Sam, shut up; you know my rizz only seems to work on losers??" "hey, Jamie told me that telling a woman my favourite movie is Ratatouille is a bad idea... is it?" "just bake her a lasagna or something and say that's how you learnt to cook." "I am not doing that." "dammit, I thought we'd get lasagna for dinner"

doing random tiktok trends or challenges - the baking one where one person is blind, one is deaf, and one is mute, but they all gotta work together to bake a cake!! sam (tape around his mouth) x you (blindfolded) x jamie (loud ass headphones on)

jamie: pass the FOOKIN sugah!! *back turned to yall as he stirs the mix*

you: WHAT. WHERE. *randomly smacking shit, picking up the salt and dropping it on the counter and onto a spoon*

sam: mmmhnph! *waving his hands in your face like NO but you can't see*

you: *turning to jamie with a spoonful, which he probs tastes absentmindedly whilst stirring* OI TASTE THIS

jamie: FOOKS SAKE

#sam obisanya #besties with sam obisanya #sam obisanya x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt x reader #afc richmond

311 notes · View notes

inklore · 2 years

Text

gauze

premise: you were eddie’s outlet for his rage just as he was the gentle hands that soothed your darkness.

pairing: eddie munson x dark!f!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: eighteen+ content, soft!dark eddie, reader and eddie are both a little insane, like psychopathic, dark content/undertones, unprotected-rough p in v, choking, dirty talk, praise and degradation, public sex, obsessive behavior, violence, blood, masturbation, jealousy, i love chrissy but reader is not v kind to her sorry, cheating, mean!girl reader, cynical ways, intrusive thoughts.

etc: i wasn’t sure if i was even going to post this because it’s not my favorite thing i’ve written and purely self indulgent but fuck it lmao.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

It's the tenth time today you find yourself rolling your eyes at the bubbly cheerleader across from you. Going off on a tangent about the drab blonde who currently has his arm slung across her shoulders. The look of artificial love radiating off of his eyes like the same kind of radiation you wish was making you go deaf and blind right now.

The longer you have to sit and listen, to feen fake interest, support, to act like you liked the boy whose arm was pulling you into his chest, your body leaned into his as if you were actually interested. As if you actually found the heavy scent of his cologne wooing enough to make you weak in the knees when all it really did was make you sick to your stomach. He was a circus monkey amongst the other brain washed animals following their ring leader in hopes they are putting on a great show. When really it was a shit show of fake showmanship and pathetic tricks that never landed; if only one of them would land on their neck and put themselves out of their misery.

But in some ways you were just as artificial. Just as pathetic as you pretended, pranced around like a well manicured puppet in a short skirt.

Everyone did something to pass the time here, to get through this shit show of high school and the depression that came from living in a dead end town. Whether that was pretending to like your friends or worming your way into the popular group because you were bored. Or because you had a taste for the bitter enjoyment of watching the pathetic become even more pathetic and sacrificial just to get a laugh out of it later—and the free booze and weed helped.

The attention was nice too, you suppose.

What else were you supposed to do when your parents had dragged you to this shitty town? The smell of cow shit and denim from the Gap making you nauseous anytime you really let it sink in—your surroundings, that this was going to be your reality for a year until you graduated and got the hell out of here, away from your parents, away from everyone.

Maybe then you’d have peace of mind.

Until then you toyed with sacrificial, the students of Hawkins High, pretending to care about sports, about whatever Chrissy would confide in you with. Feeding off of their miserableness and pathetic sufferings like a newborn baby sucking from a freshly made bottle.

They wouldn't know suffering if it hit them with a bus and incapacited them—if only you were that lucky.

The tightening of the arm around your shoulder has your daydreams of the group getting trampled to death falling to the back of your brain, your focus coming back to reality. To Chrissy smiling and raising her brows at the hand at the side of your tit that seems to get closer and closer with each movement of its owner's body. Her eyes are flashing excitement and happiness for you, for the gossip she will want to talk about later over it.

When all it's doing is making you dig your nails into the meat of your exposed thighs because you want to grab your fork and stab his eyes out—all of their eyes out.

But you put on a fake smile, a fake expression of excitement and nervous interest. Like your insides were going crazy right now, like this was a big step in the four month relationship you only started because Andy was the least annoying choice out of the group. And when you scowled at him he cowered and let you have your way—out of fear? Maybe. Or maybe he thought the more he did whatever you wanted you’d actually let him into your pants.

Which was highly doubtful.

The one night you had actually thought to let him get past touching your boob over your blouse he had went and ruined it by trying to slip his tongue in your mouth—he was already a shit kisser and each time his lips pressed to yours you had to imagine someone else to stop yourself from throwing up.

Even when his palm was massaging your chest all you felt was annoyance, and the urge to grab one of his fingers and bend it back far enough to watch him drop to his knees and wither in pain. That idea got you wetter than he ever could.

When it came to compatible sexual partners for you in this town it seemed only one reigned high. The others hadn’t gotten past the fingering phase because god forbid they knew how to treat your pussy like something other than a dj booth.

You felt bad for Chrissy, having tried Jason out a couple of times yourself—that look of artificial love he was aiming at her the the same look he had shot you with when you had been bored one night and wanted to see what your ‘best friend’ actually saw in him; the two of you in a lip lock at the basketball teams little hideout. You in his lap letting your cheer skirt be pushed up around the top of your thong as Jason squeezed your ass in a way that can only be considered a touch you’d use against fragility, as if you were a baby bunny who he cupped in his hands and wanted to take care of—it was sickening. Your hips gyrated against his crouch and it made you frown at the lack of package that had been there. Your frown only deepened when you had let him slip his fingers past your panties only to have him make a fool out of himself.

Poor Chrissy you had thought. No wonder she was the way she was, lack of orgasms would do that to you you were sure.

When you had pulled away from Jason, claimed you had to get home, his grip had tightened around your hips. The begs that had come from his mouth were almost pathetic enough to make you stay, the only thing that could remotely be fun to you. The harder he gripped the more interested you became. But blondes weren’t really your type, no matter how intriguing their pathetic-ness was.

Your threats of telling Chrissy how imperfect her little boyfriend was, the fear on his face, bringing a smile to your face, had made him let go of you.

But clearly was still affecting him each time his eyes would connect with yours, his face falling, gaze quickly diverting. The leap of enjoyment you got out of it thrilling to your insides.

Jason and Andy are cackling about whatever is going to happen at the game tonight. You doing your best to disassociate from them, Chrissy trying to get your attention, to the entire group chatting away around you—your leg bouncing under the table, your nerves on edge to lash out to get them to all hut up, or to escape the cafeteria and hide out elsewhere with a cigarette between your fingers, or something stronger.

Your scowl is deep set, eyes skating across the room as you try to hone in on something, do that thing your parent-appointed-therapist had told you to do to stop your restlessness; the shiny perfect word they used instead of labeling it as the random acts of violence you tended to find yourself being the culprit of.

And then you hear his voice. The booming octave of it, the way it makes your scowl ease, stomach tighten.

Your eyes quickly finding him from across the room. Smirking when you see him on top of his lunch table putting on a show for the whole cafeteria. The grumbles and disses he’s dishing out unwarranted to each table, voice booming throughout the room like a blow horn. Your bouncing leg comes to a halt when his eyes land on yours as he belittles the group of jocks at the table.

“You want something freak?” Jason is saying as he stands up from the table. As he puffs his chest out like he’s doing a big stroke of business, like he could remotely do anything with those hands besides throw balls in a net, and miss the clit.

Your top teeth chew on your bottom lip as you try to hide the joy that comes from the act of Eddie showing off in retaliation—the tongue that hangs from his mouth, the tongue that you’ve felt inside of your mouth, along your chest, in between your legs.

Before Munson turns and heads back down the table he sends you a wink, a smirk across his lips that has your thighs clenching. You let your eyes linger on him though, as he jumps from the table, as he continues his little show for his friends.

Your gaze only pulling from his eyes when you feel a kick come from under the table to your shin. Your scowl back and shooting at Chrissy, “what?”

“You should watch the way you’re looking at him.”

The look you give her is deadly, laced with irritation and the itching need to reach out and pull her hair. “Again, I say what?”

“He’s a freak,” she says under her breath, like he might actually hear here from miles away. “You were death glaring at him.” She frowns, “you don’t know what could come from that.”

You want to tell her that you’d love to see what came from it, encourage it. Want to laugh in her face because she has no clue how much of a freak Eddie Munson really is.

“That’d be a big mistake.” Andy states, tightens his hold on you. “Messin’ with my girl.” You swear you can smell the blood from how deep you’re pressing your nails into your thigh as he presses his lips to your cheek, like he’s some knight and shining armor saving you from some grueling monster. Like he wouldn’t shit his pants if he even came close to any sort of danger.

You have to swallow down the venom that wants to come out, the grimace that you have to cover up with a giggle, as you subtly pull away from him, as if you were shy, blushing.

The only thing that settles your insides from the lash out, the mean degrading comment you want to shoot his way, is the thought of how it might actually be entertaining to watch him to try to go up against Eddie. At how he would utterly fail and get pummeled to the ground. How he might actually look attractive to you covered in his own blood. All at the hands of Eddie The Freak, the only interesting person in this entire town—the only one who understands you more than surface level, the reward at the end of the day when youre done acting and can let your true self show; the darkness, the vileness that he laps out of you with his tongue, swallows down, fucks in and out of you like a demon of desire and sin that wants to see every dark and dirty part of your mind, body, and soul and praise you for it.

When you let your eyes move back over to his table he’s already looking at you. That dead stare that looks like a mean scowl, a potential mean and scary undertone of something that would have others running away from him or calling him names for. But only makes your insides heat up, burn, want.

It has your breath shuttering. It not going unnoticed by Andy.

“You okay, babe?” He asks concerned.

“I’m full.” You stand up from the table, making his arm fall from your shoulders and thud against the chair. The hiss of pain he lets out making your lips twitch in joy. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Want me to come with?” Chrissy asks sweetly.

“If I wanted your company I would have asked.” Your tone is the bare minimum of cruelty you want it to be, but it still has her cowering and leaning back in her chair with a frown. “Stay.” You shoot at Andy as you see him starting to get up, your skirt swooshing in the air as you twirl around to head towards the doors.

Hearing the “way to go Chrissy, you’ve pissed her off” from Andy as you push through the doors of the cafeteria.

Your stomping down the hall—kids dodging you like bullets when they see you coming—doesn’t stop until you get to the bathrooms and have locked yourself away in a stall. Eyes closing, breath heavy, the back of your skull against the tiled wall.

Your fingers moving quick and without hesitation until they are past the waistband of your skirt and underwear, and have made contact with your throbbing clit. Channeling all of the rage and want coiling in your stomach through images of Eddie spreading you across the cafeteria table and fucking you in front of all of your so called friends, showing Andy and Jason how to actually touch a pussy—living up to his freak title as he whispers the dirty and filthy things into your ear that always make you sob into his shoulder, but would make them blush and reach for a crucifix.

“If only they knew how much of a freak you really are,” Eddie’s words rattle throughout your brain as you bite your lip so hard you draw blood.

“What happened?”

“You miss-stepped!”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Oh my god, there’s blood all over!”

“Get her back to the locker room!”

“I’ll do it!” You finally pipe up, move the hand that’s firmly pressed to your chest as you push past the other girls to grab Claire by the elbow with a gentle touch. “My mothers a nurse, I know how to handle this kind of thing.” You give the coach soft reassuring eyes, tell the red head to bend her head back. Give her more soothing touches to really sell your ploy.

“Okay, go! Make sure you call her parents. The two of you can sit out and wait for them for the rest of the game.” There’s still huffs of exasperated nervous air throughout the crowd, still shocked and weary glances being shot around.

You nod quickly and pull the girl close to your side as you push through the small crowd to lead her through the gym doors and into the locker room. Making sure everyone sees the concerned touches and look in your eyes as soft encouraging words coo out of you.

You could have waited until the end of the game, there was only twenty minutes on the clock. Could have let it run out and then finally make your escape. Free yourself from the song and dance and run out of the doors and into the dark abyss—Eddie’s van that would be waiting for you outside like it always was, even though you never asked, hinted, said you’d meet up with him, he’s always there waiting for you.

But the longer your lips up turned into a fake smile, the longer you had to act cheerful and prance around the gym with your cheer sisters. Act like you cared about the bouncing of a ball that only gave you headaches and the shouts of the people around you that made you wish a bomb would go off and end your misery; the longer your intrusive thoughts made your stomach sour, you needed to get out of there.

The sooner the better.

And maybe Claire didn’t deserve it. She never did anything wrong to you. She was less annoying than most of the them. And in her defense you were aiming for Sasha, but Claire stepped in the way of your swiping ankle and down she went head first—or nose first if the loud crunch sounding louder than the shocked squeals of the crowd, and the blood coming from her nostrils in the gallons staining the front of her uniform were anything to go by—a beautiful crimson red that actually made the ugly green look better on her.

You had to hide yourself in the crowd that had formed around her, had to cover your mouth to hide the smile. It taking all of your energy just to act like you gave a shit about her howling and crying.

You weren't lying when you said your mother was a nurse. And you had picked up a few things from her, when you were the way you were—fucked in the head—you were bound to learn a thing or two. Your mother had stopped a lot of bleeding from yourself, thanks to you, because of you. Accidents that happened to friends, or cousins that got on your last nerve.

Hence the whole parent-appointed-therapist.

But now that you were pulled away from the noise of the gym and the watchful eyes were gone, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually let the fake sympathy stay.

“It’s really not that bad, shut up.” You throw a wadded up ball of toilet tissue at her. “Just keep your head back and press the bridge of your nose.” She gives you a weak look, tears still streaming, hands covering her nose. Sighing heavily you swat her hands away, can’t help the smile that tugs at one corner of your mouth as you see how the lower half of her face is covered in blood, her nose now bent to a slant.

“Is it broke?” She cries, blood slipping into her mouth making her cough.

“Like an egg,” you smile. Want to trace the pad of your finger down the cracked bridge of it. Her poor pretty face. “Your dad has good insurance right?” She whimpers when you press the tissue to her nose a little harder than you need to. “You’ve always needed a nose job anyway, at least now you’ll finally get it.”

You pat her cheek softly, turn on your heel and start to head towards the locker doors that lead back out to the hall.

“Where are you going?” She’s crying, words muffled by the tissue and blood around her mouth.

“To call your parents of course.” You turn back to look at her, one hand on the door handle. “Wait here. Keep your head elevated or you’ll bleed to death.” You lie—you weren’t that lucky—giving her a big grin before you’re prancing out of the door, down the hall and out the front doors of the school.

Any sort of concern, which was nonexistent, about the injured girl long gone as your eyes squint through the dark parking lot of the school looking for him.

“Shouldn’t you be off ra-raing?” Eddie asks as you stride up to his van. Arms behind your back, innocent look on your face as you watch him lean against the hunk of junk that gets him around, knee bent as his boot rests against the rested edge, cigarette between his lips.

“Don’t you have some cult to be leading?” You throw back at him, pull the cigarette from his mouth to press in between your own glossed one, taking a long puff. A heavy sigh echoing throughout your chest on the exhale—thank god for the sweet burn of nicotine.

“Cult meetings rarely run late.” He smiles, his tongue running across his bottom lip as he watches you smoke his cigarette. Eyes moving down your cheer uniform, to your legs and back up. “Won’t your fellow circus monkeys miss you? However will they be able to cheer on the stars of our generation without you?”

Your shoulders shrug as you tap the ashes onto the pavement, look over at him through the smoke.

“This monkey got sick of them,” your arms cross as you lean beside him against the van. “She escaped.”

“Ah, who’s the victim this time?”

“Who says there was a victim? Maybe she told them just how sacrificial and sick they make her.”

“Finally gave them the middle finger?”

“Maybe.”

Eddie turns so his shoulder is leaning against the van instead of his back, index finger placing itself under your chin. Pushing your head towards his, your gazes meeting as his thumb runs along your cheek. When he pulls his fingers back there’s a tiny spot of blood on the pad of his thumb.

“We both know you’re more bite than you are bark.” There’s no disgust on his face, laced in his words, no concern, judgment or any recoiling from you. It makes your stomach flutter. The corner of his mouth twitching with the show of amusement, “who did you bite today?”

“Claire Wilks.” You speak easily, take one last puff of the cigarette before you’re throwing it to the ground and snuffing it out with the toe of your white sneakers.

“Did she deserve it?” His voice is low and he’s leaning just a little closer to you as he presses his tongue to his thumb to wet it, bringing it back down on your cheek to rub where you can only assume is more dried blood.

“They always do.”

He chuckles under his breath, “you can’t bite everyone who annoys you. The whole town would be laying in a pool of their own blood if that was the case. Claire doesn’t seem as bad as the rest of them.”

You smile, “she’s bad enough. Plus, I..” you swallow, feeling that nervousness that only comes from being around Eddie. Someone who sees you, knows you, takes you for what you are—who you are because he’s just like you in his own dark way. “I missed you.”

He doesn’t respond, just smirks and continues to clean your face from your discretions. You don’t think he’s going to say anything, feel yourself growing agitated and antsy from the thought. From your wanted attention from him—from spending the better half of your day fantasizing about him, from splitting the bridge of Claire’s nose just so you could see him sooner.

But then his fingers are skating from your cheek down to the top of your throat, his palm searing the column of your neck, rings digging into your skin as he has the lightest grip on you. Pulling you hard enough to have your head jerking, pain throbbing against his hand. Air whooshing from your lungs as your chests collide.

“You sure? You looked reaaal cozy next to your little boyfriend at lunch,” his mouth is inches from yours. Hot air puffing against your lips as he speaks.

You do your best to shake your head, eyes doe-like as you look up at him. “Not—my boyfriend,” you whine weakly.

Eddie hums, “does he know that? Do they all know that? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look that way, can’t blame me for thinking that you’re his girl,” his smirk is sinister, “and not mine. Like you claim to be.”

“Eddie, no.” You choke on a whine. Sounding just as pathetic as Claire did sobbing into her hands.

“Sound so pretty when you plead.” When he presses his lips to yours it’s rough—his other hand at the back of your skull to hold you to his mouth, putting more pressure into the kiss as his teeth nicking your bottom lip—you whimper against him. “Missed you too.”

A shared smile corrupted by your mouths and tongues.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, when you and Eddie became a thing.

Maybe it was after the countless times you had given him dirty looks, had quick quips and snotty remarks hanging from the tip of your tongue and aimed at him in shared classes, passes in the hall, when you’d see him out in public.

The dishes of belittlement and cruel words matched between the two of you as he met you toe to toe with insults.

Until one day your mouth had gotten you in trouble, your only retaliation for the crown slipping from your head—from someone at a party actually seeing your true colors—was to grab a handful of some freshman’s hair. Her words hitting the underbelly of the rage inside of you. She had done the opposite of fucked off when you told her just how pathetically irritating she was, your words making tears stream down her face and all you wanted was for her to shut up.

You had blinked and then her face was in the dirt, you screaming above her, cruel words and threats releasing from your lungs. Your throat burning from the strain.

“Do you know your place now?”

Her head had shook, chest trembling as she cried around the dirt and grass. When you had finally let her go she had choked and spit out a clump of grass, cowering from you in fear. Sprinting around the corner of the house as quick as she could.

When you turned you didn’t expect to see Eddie Munson leaning against the siding of the house. He never came to parties, unless it was to sell a dime bag. His little lunchbox that was infamously known to house his drugs, nowhere in sight.

There was a smirk on his lips, “and here I thought you were all bark. No bite.” Your scowl made him hold up his hands in defense, “I’m sure she deserved it.”

“And if she didn’t?”

He shrugged, pulled out the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Put one between his lips before lighting it, taking a puff and blowing it out. “Don’t they always deserve it? One way or another we all deserve a little reality check. A little cruelty. It humbles us.” He smiled, had stared at you for a beat, letting his eyes dance over the skimpy outfit you had been adorning.

It was weird to not have the fuming insults exchanged between the two of you, had made the air more stuffy and filled with tension. Had turned nothing into something. Paved the path of what the two of you were now.

“Does your little jock-pack know?”

“Know what?”

“How fucked up you are.”

The amusement on his face did the opposite of what you expected to feel when it came to the boy you chalked up as being just as irritating as everyone else in this town—something you should have known to be false the minute he didn’t hold back in the cruelty of his quips, when everyone around you would cower or kiss your ass when you would snip at them.

And if you really thought back to those moments, to the way he would off handedly say them to you, be completely unaffected by your bitchy words and remarks; the second he would bark back you’d feel a heat burning in you, a heat you chalked up to rage and added irritation but now know meant something completely different.

Something more fucked up and cynical that you probably should have walked away from that first night, should have threatened him and left. But instead you ended up with your skirt pushed up, his cock fucking into you roughly, fingers pushed in your mouth as he threatened you to shut up or he’d stop.

Something that didn’t stop happening. That kept happening. That you reached out for. That you craved and begged and pleaded for once you knew that Eddie was just like you.

A freak.

More than just the surface level of outcast.

Fucked up.

Had a void of darkness at the base of his skull like you, except he never let his show. Never let anger or annoyance cause random acts of violence. No he had control over himself.

Unlike you.

“Do mommy and daddy know how fucked up their perfect little girl is?”

“Mhm,” you had moaned around his cock one night, as you looked up at him through blurred eyes on your knees.

He smirked, “and they let you out of the house?” He teased, had grabbed the back of your neck in a tight grip. Pain shooting down your spine as he pulled you up to meet his mouth, “they have no idea what you’re capable of do they? No one does. But I do.” His rings dig into your chin as he grips it, holding you in place right below his mouth. “I see right through you, always have.”

“Do you like what you see?”

“Oh, I love it, sweetheart.”

-The way your back is arched, the way he’s leaning over you, has Eddie’s cock pistoning deep inside of you to the point of him having to cover your mouth to quiet your moans.

You can hear people walking around the parking lot outside, the two of you really should have drove off before you had found yourself in this position; before Eddie had all but shoved you into the back of his van, fucked you open with his fingers before bending you over and pressing you to the dirty floor of his van. The sounds of him spitting on his cock before he pushed into you roughly, the slapping of skin as he gripped, pulled, and dug his nails into your hips as he fucked you hard—all someone had to do was put their ear close to the walls of the van and you know they’d hear how wet you were, how fast and hard his hips were snapping against your ass, how even with his hand over you mouth you still sounded like a sobbing mess.

Eddie had been the only one you’ve been with who knew how to fuck you right. Who knew all the things you needed to hear to get off, the praising, the degradation, the filthy words that always haunted you hours, days, weeks after from how hard they had made you come—how much they made you throb.

While others were humbled with words and cruelty, you found humbling in letting your intrusive thoughts—anger and darkness—aim themselves onto those below you, those you found irritatingly unworthy of their own breath; Eddie using you as an outlet to take out those shared feelings. That darkness, that anger, those bad thoughts.

Where you bit Eddie barked.

Where you took out your cruelty on others, he took it out on your cunt.

It had been something unspoken between the two of you that started that night at the party. A bond that had the potential to be deadly, to maim, to feed each other’s darkness and turn them into grueling monsters that craved more feedings, more cruelty, more of the cynical love that blindsided you.

That made you more willing to bite the hand of those who only ever showed you kindness, but him meanness. To want to make them bleed for hurting him. To want to make them suffer for thinking they were above him when they were at the bottom of his shoe, pathetic, insufferable.

You know he’d never encourage you to do such things. Nor would he hold back from rewarding you for your restraint, or lack thereof when you made someone bleed or tore them down with your words.

“Did I take it too far?” You had asked him one night when you showed up at his doorstep, blood under your fingernails.

He had pulled you into his lap, palm cupping your cheek. “Are they still alive?” You nodded. “Mm, you should be rewarded for your restraint then.” His smile pressed into your lips as he pulled your mouth down on his.

And maybe the death glares he sent Andy every time he caught his arm around you, or when your little act seemed a little too real, like you weren’t just coming on his cock the night before, or devoting yourself to him—brought a sick happiness to your heart, that show of jealousy in his eyes, that rage that hid underneath, you wanted it to slip out, just once, for you, for Eddie to take revenge on the assholes of this town.

But maybe that’s what you were in his life to do.

Maybe everything did happen for a reason. You were put in this shit town to wreck havoc on the do-gooders, the true evil ones who didn’t appreciate him. Who didn’t see Eddie the way you did.

You were here to act out where Eddie couldn’t. Were here to be fucked, loved, and used by him—in the same breath you would kill for him.

“You love this don’t you? Love having me use you, like my personal little whore to use whenever I need it. To take my frustrations out on. No matter how much it hurts from how hard I fuck you, how deep I get. How many tears run down your cheeks, you love it don’t you? Love being my girl.” He had grunted in your ear one night after sneaking through your bedroom window.

And you did. You loved being his girl. Loved feeling like somebody saw you, wanted you, had you, got you. Having been in the darkness alone for so long, you finally had Eddie and you weren’t going to let him go for anything. Over anyone.

You’d put on your little sacrificial show to keep up your rouse. To stick to the status quo of fooling everyone, if it meant getting closer to them to hurt them where they’d hurt the only person who mattered to you.

And nothing beat the way Eddie made your body feel when he was fucking you. Your insides like molten lava, goo in his hands that he could mold and play with however he liked. You’d protect that feeling, these filthy moments together, always.

The weight of him at your back right now as your breaths heavy and heaving from your nose, making your sobs sound even more shaky. Your nails digging into the dirt stained rug that laid flimsy and almost useless in the back of his van. Your knuckles aching from your grip on the fibers. Knees burned raw from the hard movement of being fucked.

“Shh, you don’t want them to hear do you?” Eddie whispers in your ear, his grunts low and like gravel against your soaked core. “You wouldn’t want anyone to know you let the town freak fuck you in the back of his van. Wouldn’t want anyone to see through your little good girl façade. They’d think you were a slut, are you a slut?”

You can hear some girls' girlish laughter next to the van, can hear the thumps of sneakers and sandals against the pavement as everyone leaves the gymnasium and heads to their cars.

The thought of everyone catching the two of you, of finally figuring you out, to publicly announce your love for Eddie in the way of him fucking you like a rag doll, making your legs tremble as you begin to come.

“So fucking dirty,” Eddie grunts as your cunt clenches around him. “I love it.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #dark!eddie munson #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #tw dark content

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tkwrites · 8 months

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Our Heroes Meet - Quinn Hughes x ofc

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Title: Our Heroes Meet

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Beginning: Quinn Hughes x Original female character

Warnings: None? First dates, first meetings, so many firsts.

Summary: When Quinn and Sarah meet, they’re pulled into each other's lives in a way neither one expected.

Word count: 4,300

Comments: This is the beginning snapshot of Quinn & Sarah.

I posted this earlier, and took it down less than 4 hours after. I felt that the ending, while cute, wasn’t true to character. After re-working it, here it is again.

It’s so cute and earnest and I just love it so much.

Thank you so much for all the support and love for these stories. I really can’t say it enough.

Our Heroes Meet

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

On a rare free afternoon with the prospect of the following day off as well, Quinn found himself wandering Stanley Park. He hadn’t really set out with the park in mind, but after being home for a few hours, playing an hour or so of Call of Duty with Jack and Luke before their pre-game naps, he needed to get out of the house. Long stretches at home alone didn’t suit him anymore after COVID, when he'd been contractually stuck inside anytime he wasn’t at the rink. It reminded him too much of those long, lonely days.

The Park was touristy, but he liked it. He liked the water, and all the trails, and there was always something new and interesting going on.

It began to drizzle as he wandered. Within minutes, as it so often did in Vancouver, the rain picked up, pounding into the pavement in sheets.

Cursing himself for not checking the weather before leaving his apartment, Quinn darted under the awning of the aquarium to keep from getting soaked to the skin. His first thought was to turn away and run back to his car. He didn’t need to be with big crowds of people, especially when everyone was rushing to get inside. On the other hand, he'd never been to the aquarium, and the thought of returning to his empty apartment made him squirm more than the thought of a crowd.

So, he bought a ticket and wandered into the building, keeping his distance from others, hat pulled low so less people would recognize him.

He was wandering the BC exhibit when he stumbled upon a pretty young woman speaking to a group of school aged children, explaining to them how octopus camouflage worked. He'd missed most of her talk, but she had several graphics attached to the tank. A little girl in the front was holding a plastic model of an octopus like it was the best gift she'd ever been given.

The woman's dark hair was pulled up into a bouncy, wavy ponytail. Something glinted in her ears, but she wore no other jewelry. She had a curvy figure, highlighted by the jeans and t-shirt she wore. She looked put together, but not overly so.

The thing that really made him pause was the light in her eyes when she talked. She was obviously passionate about her work and it was infectious to watch. She answered every child with the same thoughtfulness and enthusiasm. From deeper questions about how the changing environment was affecting marine life, to the little girl holding the model, who asked why octopus have eight arms.

“You know, we haven’t really figured out why eight is the magic number for them, but they use all of them, so I guess they got to eight and decided they were done.”

Quinn found himself chuckling while the kids giggled.

The classes wandered away, and she began cleaning up her display, putting models and diagrams into a bucket before easing the graphics off the tank glass.

Something pulled him to her as if he'd been hooked in the navel and reeled in. Maybe it was because Millsy had just been chirping him about being too quiet to get a girl. Maybe it was the longing he felt wandering the park alone. Maybe it was fate. Whatever it was, he couldn’t seem to talk himself out of it.

Standing there like a fool, he watched her work for a few heartbeats too long.

Quinn didn't like to talk to strangers if he could help it. It’s not that he was scared, necessarily, but he was quiet and often just didn't know how to break the ice. Talking to someone when he didn’t have a middle man to bridge that first interaction made him nervous.

“Can I ask you a question?” he finally said. Lame. Lame. Could he be any more fucking lame?

“Hi there,” she said with a bright, friendly smile that took him off guard with its forced cheerfulness. It was such a different look than she’d just been wearing that he found it unnerving that she could flip that quickly. “Where can I direct you?”

“Oh, no,” Quinn gestured at the place he’d been standing, “I missed part of your talk,” he said, feeling his cheeks begin to blaze. “I wondered if you could tell me more about their camouflage?”

The light that had been in her face came rushing back, as if someone had flipped a switch. She met his eyes and smiled. Something twisted in his stomach.

He was even a few inches taller than her. More boxes checked off his list.

“Sure, what would you like to know?”

Mostly, he wanted her to keep talking. Finally, his brain came up with something semi intelligent, “do they have all those colors in their skin and just bring them up to the surface when they want to?”

“Sort of. Their skin is full of chromatophores, which are basically specialized cells that have an elastic sac that’s filled with one of a few pigments, and as they expand and contract the muscles around those cells, more or less pigment is visible. Octopus, and other cephalopods have a nerve attached to every one of those cells, so they can change almost at will. Some scientists are trying to understand if they even need to think about changing, or if it’s just an autonomic nerve response.” She stopped abruptly, “I’m sorry, that’s probably more information than you were looking for. ”

“No, it’s really interesting,” he assured. “How do you know all this? Are you just in charge of the octopus tank?”

“I'm getting my masters degree at UBC in marine zoology. I do research with one of the octopus we have named Walter, so they ask me to do these talks while I’m here working on that.”

He laughed, “Walter? That's quite the name for a fish.”

“Right?” she agreed, resisting the urge to correct him that Walter was a cephalopod, not a fish. They were two very different categories of animals. “I didn't choose it, but it suits him. He's kind of a curmudgeonly old man sometimes.”

His phone buzzed, reminding him it was nearly time to eat lunch.

“Hey, I swear I don't usually do this,” he said, more for his own benefit as he silenced the vibration on his phone, “but do you want to grab some lunch?”

She glanced at her watch and he felt his face flame as the reality of what he’d just said sunk in. He'd asked her to lunch? While she was working? How out of touch was he? Not everyone worked in the morning for a few hours and basically had the rest of the day free.

“I have a break coming up at 1, but I'm giving another talk at 2:30, so we couldn't go very far,” she said apologetically, hoping it wouldn’t put him off.

Quinn felt like he'd won the lottery. He just wanted to keep talking to her. It didn't matter how far they went. For all he cared, they could go to the aquarium cafeteria. “That’s fine.”

A relieved smile spread over her lips.

Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. “So, I’ll meet you out front in twenty?” he suggested, gesturing vaguely to where he thought the front of the building was.

She nodded.

As Sarah headed backstage, Rick, one of the aquarium staff, saddled up beside her, waggling his eyebrows, “he was cute.”

She went to scoff and wave him away, but found that she couldn’t. Her mystery man was cute. Lovely brown eyes, a few inches in height on her (which if she was being honest, wasn’t all that difficult), dark hair along with a dark shadow of a beard on his jaw, and a prominent, interesting nose that was somehow distinctive and at home on his face all at once. On top of that, he came up to her, obviously interested in what she did, and that in itself was incredibly attractive.

He hadn’t even paused when she threw out her graduate degree, a kind of douche litmus test she’d devised to tell right away who would be too intimidated by her education and who would be cool with it.

“I know,” she said, a little surprised by her own sincerity.

“Did he get your number?”

“No.”

“Please tell me you got his. It’s the twenty-first century, girl. You don’t let a man like that pass you by.”

“He invited me to lunch,” she said, feeling that overwhelming sincerity wash over her again. It was a bold move on his part, making his intentions known right away. She wasn't sure she'd ever been asked out so quickly or decisively.

“Well, I guess that works,” Rick shrugged, as if to say it wasn’t the route he would have taken.

Twenty five minutes later, Sarah rushed to the front, dodging the local hall so she wouldn’t be pulled away to answer a question, which happened more often than she’d ever anticipated after taking this research position.

He was standing near the entrance, looking at his phone with a kind of studied practice. Like he was trying hard to seem absorbed in whatever he was looking at, but the set of his shoulders made him look like he was bracing himself.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, halting her progress, “I got stuck talking with my research supervisor.”

He smiled, finally lifting his head, “It’s cool. Glad you didn’t stand me up though.”

A relieved smile took over her face. “I’m Sarah by the way, I didn't get your name.”

“Quinn,” he said, extending his hand.

He’d forgotten to introduce himself. He'd been so caught up in keeping her talking that he forgot the most basic part of polite conversation. Internally, he rolled his eyes.

A small spark raced up her arm when their hands touched with the formal shake.

“So,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure of what else to do with them, “where do you wanna go?”

“Oh, I…” she paused, looking out to the park, “do you have a favorite place?”

“I'm not down this way much, so I don't really know.”

“Do you like bao?” she asked.

He just looked at her, so she continued, “they're like dumplings with different things inside. They're Asian. There's a great place just up the street I go to sometimes.”

“I've never had it, but sure?”

Leading the way, Sarah started out of the building in confident strides that spoke of someone who had little time to waste in getting from one point to another. The rain had let up to a light mist that would do little more than dew the grass.

“So… are you from Vancouver?’ she asked, glancing over at him. He kept pace with her easily.

“No, I'm kind of from all over, but mostly from Michigan.”

“Oh, cool. I'm from Nevada.”

“That's a long way for school.”

“Well, it's a bit hard to study the ocean there,” she teased, “being landlocked and all.”

He laughed. “So, you're a student and you do research, what else do you do?”

“I honestly don't have a whole lot more time. Grad school is kind of a joke that way. I hang out with my roommates,” she added, feeling incredibly lame. “What about you? What do you do?”

He cleared his throat. This conversation always went one of two ways. “I play hockey.”

“Like, for a job?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline.

“Yeah. For the Canucks.” He gestured around himself, acknowledging the city as a whole.

She looked at him, and he held his breath, hoping his gut reaction wasn’t about to be proven wrong.

"That must be a wild job.”

A sigh let go in Quinn's chest. “It is. I feel really lucky.”

“So you're what, 20?”

“I hope I look older than that!”

"Sorry," She laughed. "I'm so bad with age. Especially with dudes. The facial hair always throws me off, so I usually aim low.” she said, gesturing to his jaw.

He grinned at her and her heart did a pitter pattery little jig against her ribcage.

“In any case,” she said, flipping her hands, “aren't all the guys in the NHL really young? Like, you have to be drafted before you're 20 or something?”

“21, technically,” he said, looking very impressed. “Do you follow hockey?”

“Not really, but my roommate is obsessed with the Canucks, so I've picked up a few things."

Quinn hoped she was the good kind of obsessed.

“So how old are you then?”

“24. You?”

“Twenty-six.”

The guys were going to give him so much shit when they found out he took out another older woman.

He couldn’t help it. He liked older women. They were more likely to have their lives together in the way he did. It was easier to be himself - a little more serious and quiet than his peers - with older women, who seemed to appreciate those qualities more.

It seemed he was naturally drawn to someone older, even when his basic instincts took over.

After 10 minutes of walking, they were seated in a cozy little restaurant, and Sarah made sure he was facing the middle, where the chef was assembling the dumplings.

Quinn looked over the menu, feeling instantly overwhelmed. There were so many things he didn't know here. “What's good?” he asked, trying to calm his nerves.

Truly, what the hell was he doing? He felt so out of his element. He dated, but never like this. Usually via set up and occasionally from an app, but he always knew something about his date before they met in person.

This was all his least favorite parts of getting to know someone in a situation that felt too high-stakes. He wasn’t even sure why. Sarah was pretty. Not in the overly stunning instagram pretty way Jack usually favored, but more girl next door kind of pretty, in a way that made him interested to know her more, but he didn't feel intimidated or uncomfortable around her. Something about her tilted him off his axis enough to make him go out of his comfort zone enough to ask her to lunch. For the first time, he found himself thinking, this could really go somewhere, and that scared him shitless.

“Everything I've tried is good. You should at least try the rainbow dumplings. Then you can try all the flavors.”

He nodded and set the menu down.

“We could split an entree too?” She suggested, sensing his unease. “The dumplings aren't really a total meal.”

“Sure. You pick.”

“Anything you don't like? Any dietary things?”

Quinn shook his head, “no, I’m off tomorrow, so I’m not watching what I eat.”

They locked eyes over her menu, “do you have to do that a lot?”

He nodded, “it comes with the territory. Gotta stay in peak condition, you know?”

She didn’t, but she nodded anyway.

He took off his cap and nervously ran his hand through his hair before replacing it. His hair was thick and a little wavy, she saw. It made her like him even more.

After holding eye contact for a beat too long, she tore her eyes away to look at the menu again. “Do you mind if I do something a little weird?” she asked.

When she dared to meet his eyes again, he was looking at her like he was bracing for something that was going to ruin his whole reputation.

“I mean with ordering,” she said, laughing.

“Oh,” Quinn felt his whole body relax, “sure.”

“Were you worried I was going to ask for pictures of your feet or something?”

Laughter burst out of his mouth, splitting his face into a natural, easy smile that suited him. The childish scrunch to his nose coupled with the wide, sure-of-himself smile made him look somehow younger and older at the same time.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I’ve seen a lot of weird shit.”

“I can’t even imagine,” she said, laughing.

The waiter came up to the table then.

Sarah glanced at Quinn, a smile still playing on her lips.

“You order,” he said, feeling childish.

“We’ll have two orders of the rainbow dumplings, and whatever main dish you want to bring us.”

Quinn choked a little on the water he was drinking.

“Just no seafood.”

The waiter nodded, like this wasn’t an unusual request, “spice level?”

Sarah looked to Quinn for guidance.

“Mild,” he said.

“Mild, then.”

“No allergies?”

Sarah shook her head, and the waiter walked away.

“Do you do that a lot?” he asked.

“Sometimes. I have a friend who does it every time we go out. It’s a great way to try new things.”

“And no seafood?” he asked, “has your work turned you away from it?”

“No, not really, but I only get it if it’s sustainably sourced, and I didn’t want to have a whole conversation over who their seafood supplier is, and most waiters don't know that stuff anyway, so it’s just easier to say none.”

Their conversion slipped into a silence that wasn't completely uncomfortable.

“So,” she said, starting to fiddle with the things on the table, a soy sauce decanter and a square ceramic container with a tiny spoon in it. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” she paused, filtering through the questions that raced through her head, “what's your favorite movie?”

“Star Wars.”

“Which one?”

“I like all of the original trio, but probably The Empire Strikes Back most.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why?”

“Oh, I dated a guy a while ago who told me his favorite Star Wars movie was The Phantom Menace and I almost broke up with him on the spot.”

Quinn laughed.

“What's your favorite?”

“Oh, I have so many,” she said, “For Star Wars: A New Hope. Overall, it kind of depends on the day, but I have some go-to comfort movies, like any of the original Marvel movies, Lord of the Rings, and this chick flick called In Her Shoes I used to watch a lot with my mom.”

Feeling more and more like he really had won the lottery, Quinn smiled at her. It was strange to think a girl like this existed and had been existing in the same city as him for some time. A woman that was cute and curvy and had so many of the qualities he always said he was looking for. Passionate about what she was doing, didn't take herself too seriously, was a bit of a nerd like he was, but not too nerdy, didn’t want to date him for clout or money.

People in his life had often wondered if the list was too long to find in a real person. He'd started to wonder the same thing over the past few months. Part of it was that it felt easier to have a long list so he didn’t have to worry about looking for someone while he was so busy. He'd always figured he'd meet someone later on in his career or even after it was done. Then he would have the time to dedicate to dating and marriage.

Despite all that, here Sarah was, smiling at him over a lunch table like fate had just dropped her into his life.

Their food came and they continued talking. Sarah could tell he was a quiet guy, always taking time to think before he spoke. Despite that, she didn't feel like she was carrying the conversation. It was a pleasant surprise for a first date.

At one point, Quinn looked so lost at how to eat the dumplings that she took pity on him and gave him the instructional card from the table. “I was lost when I first came here, too,” she assured.

When they finished, and Quinn had shut down her offer to pay for half of the food, she glanced at her watch, surprised to find that it was already 2:05. Their conversation had been so consistent and comfortable, she hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “I’m sorry. I have to get back.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, standing and putting a cash tip on the table.

Sarah felt a little dizzy. Everything felt so sudden, like Karma had finally noticed all her pain and delivered her something good for a change. She’d gotten so used to slogging along, enjoying what she was doing, but not really looking forward to the future with any big hope or optimism. The sudden change had her reeling.

When they got back to the Aquarium, Quinn stopped at the entrance, tucking himself behind one of the pillars to provide a little more privacy.

“I, uh,” he found himself saying. How did you end a date with a woman you were beginning to feel might just be your soulmate?

“I had a really nice time,” she said.

“Yeah, me too.”

He leaned in, trying to gauge if she wanted to be kissed, or if a hug would put him too much in the friend-zone. His brothers probably would have chastised him for not going in for the kiss right away, but the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

They did a short, awkward dance, neither knowing what, exactly, to do. It struck Sarah as the most uncomfortable thing on their date thus far.

Finally, she took charge and wrapped her arms around his neck in an embrace.

Quinn sighed as he gathered her against him.

His willingness to wait for her to dictate the level of physicality they shared ticked another box on her list. She wouldn’t have minded kissing him, but the fact that he respected that boundary right off the bat had game show-winner bells ringing in her mind.

“I know you have to go, but can I get your number?” he asked, stepping back from the embrace, letting his left hand linger on her hip.

She giggled a little, thinking what a weird formality it was that he had to ask at this point. She gave him her number and he texted to make sure it was right. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, showing him.

“I’ll see you later?” she asked. looking up into his face. She wasn’t surprised to find the same hope she felt reflected back at her.

He glanced at her lips before meeting her eyes again, “yeah.”

Another glance at her watch had her stepping back from him. “I’m sorry, I’m late,” she said, turning away before turning back at the last second and brushing her lips over his cheek. “See you later.”

He watched her run down the hall before turning around and heading back home, feeling like he could stomach an evening alone with Sarah on his mind.

Later that night, studying in her room, Sarah finally pulled her phone from her backpack and typed out the message that had been pulling at her thoughts all day, making it impossible to really focus on anything else.

Some of her friends, she knew, would tell her she was putting too much out there too soon. Perhaps she was, but losing her mom had given her a fuck that attitude to many things - not expressing her true feelings being one of them. If it scared him off, that would tell her all she needed to know.

She hit send, hoping she wasn’t wrong.

Quinn was in his own apartment, not really paying attention to the Devils-Hurricanes game playing, mostly trying to figure out when it would be okay to text her. With the way everything had gone that day, he felt like any time would be the right time. The anxious part of his mind battled against that thought, worried about coming on too strong or seeming needy and messing things up.

He pulled his phone out, finally deciding that he should just say something.

It dinged in his hand, and her name flashed across his screen. Shocked, he dropped the phone and had to fish it out from under the couch before he could read her message.

Thank you for today. You were such a welcome surprise.

It was so heartfelt, he sat on the floor between the couch and coffee table for a while, re-reading their conversation.

This is Quinn.

Thank you for today. You were such a welcome surprise.

The embarrassingly earnest part of him wanted to tell her all he was feeling, but he knew it was too soon to tell her he thought they could go the distance. It was too soon for him to be voicing those things to himself. He didn’t really even know her. Yet.

Sarah watched his text bubble appear and disappear several times before she clicked off her screen, unable to watch.

Her heart was rioting in her chest. Yes, fuck that, but also if he proved her wrong, she knew she would be crying herself to sleep.

Finally - finally her phone buzzed. Hands shaking, she struggled to unlock it, eventually having to put her code in twice before it worked. His message slid onto the screen, and she released the breath she’d been holding.

I feel the same way. I can’t wait to see you again.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

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