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uglypastels · 2 years

Note

Hi there! Maybe tmi but I’ve been daydreaming of a scenario where you and Eddie have been staring at each other for most of senior year but you’re too shy to approach each other and then you bump into him at school after-hours and suddenly you’re slamming each other into the locker room or AV room or whatever other school setting and having crazy panting feral hot sex. I love your fics so I’d pass out if you wrote something along these lines and then spontaneously combust from horniness

ok this immediately got me inspired to write, even though I told myself "no blurbs until you finish the pirate eddie fic" but fuck it. i had to write this.

warnings: SMUT minors dni! unprotected PIV (female!reader). kinda public?? in a school building but no one's around. swearing. i don't think there's anything else, but I'm sorry I'm tired.

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What were you doing? What in the world were you thinking?

Well, the answer to the first question was quite simple. You were standing in front of the janitor’s closet. It was just the beginning of your free period, when you were supposed to be sitting in the library studying for your upcoming chem final, but it turns out you had more important things at hand.

You looked down at the note in your hand again. The one he had dropped right in front of you just a few hours ago. It had been at your locker, it was early, and you were barely awake, putting away your jacket.

At first, you had thought nothing of it, still trying to get over the fact that Eddie Munson had bumped into you. The image of his flashy smile was still developing in your corneas. So when you saw the small piece of paper, you thought it might have just been some trash he dropped, but either way, you decided to pick it up. Out of mere curiosity, really. You had seen the black pen marks bleeding through it and wanted to know what the school’s freak had to say. And what it was… was quite interesting.

5th period. Janitor’s closet, west. Meet me there.

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, but it couldn’t have been meant for you, could it? Either way, you went to the west hall. You found that janitor’s closet and looked around for anyone. What would other students think if you stood around? Could they tell what you were trying to build the courage up for?

Eddie must have already been inside as the clock on the wall ticked loudly away past the first minute of the hour. You wanted to go inside; you did, but you couldn’t push away the feeling that he might have meant the note for someone else. Had he accidentally dropped it in front of you and been waiting for a completely different person?

So, why the hell did you still knock?

Why even knock in the first place? Why not just open the door? It all felt so stupid, and you felt even sillier when the door opened and Eddie popped out.

He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you inside. It was neither light nor dark in the cupboard. The lightbulb above your head barely gave off any light, but the window in the door was a bit of help. That's when you realised that even though you could not see him there, he had seen you pace about in the corridor.

‘I thought you’d never come in.’ He said with a smile, voice airy, his body inching closer to you with each word. His hands were already setting up their place on your hips, hesitant for your reaction. He clearly had a lot of things on his mind that he wanted to express, but he also didn’t want to push any of your boundaries. You could tell just by how his breath hitched in anticipation, how he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip.

‘I– I thought you might have given me the note by accident.’ you placed your hand over his chest. Just that feeling alone, even with the many layers of his clothing between you, it made you melt. Of course, the room was small, with no proper air circulation, so that might have been why you felt so hot, but something in you told you that might not have been entirely it. He chuckled at your confession.

‘Who else would it have been for?’ His nose brushed over your cheek, his words hitting your hot skin as he spoke. He was about to move away, but you mirrored his actions right in sync, crashing your lips to his, breaking the dam of feeling and need that had been building between the two of you for the last few weeks.

It all started with innocent looks across the room—a smile, a wink.

But it all gradually escalated in subtle ways. No matter how much you would have wanted to, you never dared to take it any further than this. And neither could Eddie. He was a person who was very loud and boisterous, but at times he could shut down and close off. At times, for example, when he was struck by you looking directly at him from your cafeteria table. How he had wanted to walk up to you, tell you everything he had wanted to say each time he saw you, but all the words collapsed in his mind as soon as you actually showed up in front of him. And pretty much the same happened to you.

Maybe that is why you felt like you were being pulled together. This invisible string connected the two of you in ways no one could explain but wouldn’t complain about either.

The last week, in particular, something had been set off in both of you. Nothing you did was particularly sexual, but it got him going, and you could say the same thing about Eddie. Just seeing him sit there, laid back in the chair, legs spread out, laughing at whatever his friends were saying– you wanted to sit in that lap and laugh along with him.

You couldn’t be wearing a cuter outfit, could you? Eddie’s heart was doing overtime in trying to keep him alive at the sight of you. He needed to talk to you, say something about how you made him feel.

That is all he had intended with the note. Just so the two of you could talk. Perhaps the tiny enclosed space of the cupboard in an abandoned part of the school was presumptuous of him. Maybe he should have picked a bit more open space, but in all honesty, he was scared that after talking to him for a minute, you would just laugh in his face for how wrong he had been about you. You being interested in him? Now that would make its rounds around the school in no time.

But then you got into that damn little closet with him, and it’s like all his sanity had left him. He couldn’t compose himself any longer. The feeling of you being so close to him made him haywire in the best way possible, and when you kissed him–

‘Fuck,’ he grumbled from between the kiss. Your lips just parted long enough for a catch of air, but nothing longer than that. The idea that you did want, maybe even needed, him as much as he desired you… he couldn’t comprehend it, really. All he could do at the moment was hold you close, hoping that his hands weren’t actually too tight on your body.

But then you let your body free. Your hand clasped at his shoulder as your leg snaked its way around his. Eddie took the opportunity without hesitation to push you against one of the shelving units. It buckled back and forth, but nothing fell off, so neither of you cared. Instead, he pressed you up against it, holding you up by your legs as you crossed your arms around his neck.

Eddie groaned out, to his own surprise, at you tugging his hair. His hips bucked into yours. Was there any way you didn’t feel how hard he was getting? His mind was becoming increasingly clouded with this visceral and nearly animalistic hunger for you. The kisses were getting sloppier by the second when you started pushing the denim vest off his arms.

The untangling clothes of your bodies was a challenge, but you got there in the end, only getting rid of the most necessary parts. So, naturally, Eddie’s vest and jacket had to go so that he could pull his shirt off. You hiked up your shirt, revealing your bra and pulled your skirt up your legs, while Eddie unbuckled his trousers and let them drop to his ankles, together with his underwear. As it continued, neither of you could explain what came over you.

He reached his hand to play with your cunt over your panties, but you scolded him.

‘No time.’ there wasn’t. You weren’t sure how much time there was left before you had to get to your next class. There was no need to waste the little time you had on foreplay, no matter how much you wanted it or both of you wanted it.

‘Wouldn’t have taken you for being so bossy, sweetheart,’ Eddie smirked and kissed you before you could respond. Simultaneously, he thrust his cock deep inside you. You would have screamed out in pleasure if his lips had not been on you. The feeling of him stretching you out– it was almost blissful.

‘Eddie, oh my god,’ you grabbed his hair tighter as he kept going. It was something that seemed to spur him on. Eddie Munson liked it rough. Not an unexpected discovery, but maybe how you found out– or the fact you got to experience it first-hand, was a bit of a surprise.

‘C’mon baby, c’mon,’ his voice got deeper with each thrust and groan, mixing with your moans and gasps of pleasure. The shelf to which he had pinned you also kept making noise, and the two of you constantly had to keep pulling yourselves back before everything would topple over and the entire school would hear what you were up to.

You could feel yourself getting closer, and you tried to clarify that to Eddie, but coherent words, or even noises, were too much for your brain at that moment. How he actually managed to understand that was a miracle. He kissed you deeper. Like the ones before, the kiss was full of heat and passion. It was hungry and filthy. Messy.

Your nails scratched over his back; Eddie hissed at the sensation, bucking his hips deeper into you. You had just enough time to open your mouth, where a nearly pornographic moan would escape from if it wasn’t for Eddie’s hand that quickly caught it. He pressed his palm over your lips.

‘Shh, don’t want to get caught, do we?’ he smiled. It was a tired smile, enhanced by the pearls of sweat on his chest and his hair curling on his forehead as he kept on pulling you closer to your climax. He pulled you into it. Tighter and tighter. So tight until it all snapped, and you unravelled in his arms.

Eddie pulled out of you slowly, carefully. He held you until both of you caught your breath and pulled your shirt back over your chest… but not before lightly kissing your breasts. Something you couldn’t help but giggle at.

You took the time he spent getting dressed to regain some energy. Never had you ever been fucked like that before. You could readily admit that. Eddie Munson was… something else, for sure. It was terrific… and yet, when you looked at Eddie, something seemed to be off. He was chewing at the inside of his cheeks, brows furrowed, deep in thought.

‘Something wrong?’ you asked.

‘No,’ is all he said, but you called bullshit. ‘This isn’t how I had… Sorry, I guess, if that was a bit…’ he drifted off, cheeks tinged in a pink hue as he focused on buckling his belt.

‘It was great Eddie.’ You wanted him to know you enjoyed yourself.

‘I just… I don’t want you to think that this is why I told you to come here. I had just wanted to talk, actually–’

‘What did you want to talk about then,’ you smiled.

‘I– I’m not quite sure anymore,’ he chuckled, scratching at the back of his head. The boy was utterly whipped and fucked out. You noticed a lock of his hair sticking out, and without much thought, you walked up to fix it.

‘Well, I’m really glad I came,’ you kissed his cheek, which was burning up, ‘in all senses of the word.’

‘I’d be more than happy to do it again,’ he kissed the corner of your mouth. ‘If you’d let me, of course.’

‘It’s a deal, Munson,’ you told him as you walked out of the cupboard.

Eddie felt like he was walking on a cloud for the rest of the day. He couldn’t believe what had happened. He just couldn’t…. He couldn’t think a girl like you would just do all of that with a guy like him. At one point, he actually started considering he had dreamed it all up. He had probably accidentally fallen asleep during a class or something, and it had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

Easy to say all of those ideas went away the second Eddie opened his locker at the end of the day, and a small piece of paper fell out. Right on the ground between his feet. On it was written:

Tonight, my house.

How about that deal, Munson?

the End

thank you for reading! please reblog and comment (maybe leave a review??) I would love to think what you thought of it <3

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#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #stranger things smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #blurb

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loquaciousferret · 2 years

Text

Country Lovin’

Summary: Pre-outbreak AU, you let yourself get picked up by a handsome stranger after your set playing at a local country bar. After giving you the night of your life, Joel Miller might just be your new muse.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, alcohol consumption, drink driving. sex whilst intoxicated, use of pet names, unspecified age gap, unprotected sex. As always- maybe more! Read at own risk

A/N: I’m on a roll with Joel content at the minute, I don’t know why this specific scenario came to mind, but reader is a country singer performing at a bar where tommy and joel are drinking and joel flirts his way into bed with you… ahh! It’s also definitely the type of story I could see myself writing a part 2 for…! Enjoy…

P.S. count the Taylor Swift references throughout haha.

You finished your set to a healthy round of applause and a few cheers and whoops from the more intoxicated patrons of the bar. It wasn’t your first time playing in this particular bar, but it was your first time being invited to play a Saturday, and the feeling of playing to such a packed venue was incredible.

You lifted your guitar from your neck by the strap and placed it carefully in it’s case at the side of the small stage, before making your way over to the bar. As you stood there waiting to catch a bartenders attention and order something, you noticed a presence hovering close to your left side. You turned to face it and found yourself looking up into the eyes of a man, a handsome man. One who you had noticed had made eye contact with you numerous times throughout your set, whilst he had been throwing back glasses of scotch with another guy at a table close to the front of the stage.

“I’d hate to be the guy you wrote that last one about.” He smirked. “Sounds like he really fucked it up.”

You smiled, it wasn’t a compliment so you didn’t know what to say in return. Thanks wasn’t the right word. “Uh, yeah, um..” You mumbled, unable to find a suitable response.

“You’re incredible.” He said. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Oh… Uh.” You blushed, so he had been flirting with his opening line?

“What’s your poison?” He asked, persistent.

“Something fruity.” You said back, which made him roll his eyes.

“Of course.” He remarked, but there was no hint of anything mean behind his words.

He attracted the barkeeps attention faster than you had, ��Another scotch,” he pointed at his own glass. “And something fruity for the lady.”

You were distracted, your attention drifting around the bar. It was busy tonight with a crowd of all ages, a few groups of young people roughly your age, the majority middle-aged like the man you stood with, and some even older than that, some real old school guys. Similar to most country bars you would play at, but this one was special, one of the busiest in the city and the previous stomping ground of a number of major stars. Lots of people told you it was a stupid dream, but it was one you were holding onto well into your twenties whilst you finished college.

You realised you might be coming across as rude to the man who had bought you the drink you were waiting for, so you returned your attention to him, and found his gaze had never left you, he was staring down at you intently. You took in his features, a strong brow-bone, nose and sharp jaw. Dark brown messy hair with eyes to match, stubble and a defined moustache to top it off. Handsome in a rugged, properly Southern way.

“I haven’t seen you around.” He says. “I’m Joel.”

“It ain’t my first time, but it’s for sure my busiest night so far.” You said.

“You’re really incredible.” He said, repeating his words from before. Something about his eyes told you that he was genuine in his compliments, and that they weren’t just an attempt at flattery. But you sensed he was working that angle too.

You considered him carefully, and the sight from his perspective of you gazing up at him innocently through thick lashes, plump lips slightly parted, was enough to turn him on.

The bartender interrupted your intense staring contest, sliding you a drink that was a startling shade of crimson, with sugar round the rim, and for him, a rich amber liquid over rocks of ice.

“Cheers,” You offered, holding your glass out to him, and he returned the gesture, clinking the edges of the glasses. Some of the sugar from the edge of your glass transferred onto the rim of his scotch, offending his taste buds when he brought it to his lips, shuddering dramatically.

You giggled at his display and savoured the sweetness as you took your first sip.

“What you need drinks like that for anyway, darlin’? You’re already sweet enough to give some of us guys toothache.”

You rolled your eyes but gave him a laugh. These practiced lines must serve him well with most women in these establishments, and his gorgeous chocolate brown puppy dog eyes that hold your gaze as he delivers them certainly didn’t hurt either.

You found that the conversation flowed easily with Joel. He had the southern gentleman act perfected to a point, flirtation innocent enough to be plausibly deniable but certainly noticeable if you chose to lean into it. And you did find yourself doing so, loosening up with cocktail after cocktail, him knocking back scotches at an equally dizzying pace.

You weren’t sure how long you had been engrossed in his company when eventually you recognised the man he had been with earlier, approaching him from behind and putting a hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“Is that it, have I been subbed out as tonight’s company, Joel?” His cheeky tone suggested to you that Joel made a habit of this.

“Tommy,” Joel put an arm round him. He was a good few inches taller than the other man, Tommy, but they shared facial similarities, the same moustache, and dress sense. “Let me introduce you to my good friend here,” he said, turning to you.

Tommy grasped one of your hands in both of his, shaking it politely. “Pleasure to meet you, how do you do?” He shared Joel’s cheeky grin. “Helluva show you put on tonight.” He praised.

“You’re too kind.” You waved a hand bashfully. Most people assume that performers thrive on attention and praise but you have never quite gotten used to accepting the compliments that came your way during and after your shows, constantly a blushing mess whenever people congratulated you and fussed over how well you did.

“Make sure my brother takes care of you, alright? I’m gonna hit the road.” He said, offering you a wink before turning round to shake Joel’s hand. “I’ll catch you in the morning, buddy.”

A gesture of his head, indicating over his shoulder to a beautiful blonde who was stood a few metres away, twirling her curls between her fingers and watching Tommy with a smile on her face and a set of “Fuck-me” eyes if you had ever seen them. You laughed a little as you watched the brothers exchange a look. Joel’s eyebrows seemed to say well done.

You could tell he was a womaniser, a trait him and his brother clearly shared, and they didn’t mean to conceal it in any way, either. But as he had pointed out so astutely in his opening line, the heartbreak that was the inspiration behind your latest tracks had done quite a number on you, and so whilst it wasn’t in your usual nature… you were considering taking a risk on this devilishly handsome stranger tonight.

You laughed at his jokes and fluttered your eyelashes, more for your own fun as you knew he was already sold on you. But he was trying hard to chat you up and you had to give something in return to let him know he was getting somewhere.

You both kept up the pretence of waiting until it was polite to move closer together, for you to tease a light touch on his bicep and him on your upper thigh in return. His flirtations became more overt and eventually he was whispering them directly into your ear, his hot breath tickling you, his hands playing with your hair and pushing it back behind your shoulders to get a better view of your face.

He timed it perfectly right when you finished your 5th (or was it 6th?) drink, asking, “You got anyone waitin’ up for you at home?”

“No, Sir.” You blushed, happy with the subtext to his question.

“What do ya say you come home with me for a nightcap then, sweetness? Hm?” He brushed your cheek with his thumb and it took concentration to stay upright on your barstool and not melt into a puddle under his touch.

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, taking a deep breath as nerves hit despite having known all along the night was leading up to this point.

“I’m just a few blocks away, won’t take us long, beautiful.”

As you stepped out of the still crowded bar into the night air, you felt the alcohol dizzying you more. You stumbled slightly and Joel’s strong arms found their way around your waist, steadying you but then remaining there longer than necessary to guide you down the street, holding you close to his side.

You found yourself giggling at his jokes like a love-struck schoolgirl, constantly bashful under the compliments and affections that rolled off his tongue so naturally. He was certainly a charmer, there was no doubt about that.

After walking about a block, a small breeze hit and you found yourself shivering. He jumped back from you quickly to remove his jacket and drape it over your shoulders before slinging an arm around you again.

“I’m sorry beautiful, forgot to do that sooner.”

“Joel, you certainly have this gentleman act practiced to perfection don’t you now?” You teased.

“It ain’t an act,” He chuckled. “I am a proper southern gentleman.”

“A proper gentleman would never invite a lady home the night they meet.” You joked back.

“And a proper lady wouldn’t say yes.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

You gasped, pretending to be offended before shooting back. “I never claimed to be a proper lady, Joel. Don’t feel the need to treat me like one once you get me home.”

His smirk grew to a full on grin, he seemed pleasantly surprised at the confidence with which you delivered this remark. You had surprised yourself, too. Those drinks were stronger than you thought. Or maybe you were just drunk on him.

Before long you he was leading you up to a nice home, with a perfectly laid path, a well-tended lawn, and a sturdy wrap-around porch. You should have known, Joel was no boy leading you back to a crumby apartment, he was all man.

He fumbled with the keys in the darkness and got the door open after a few seconds, turning a light on and you took in the space. A fairly large open-plan layout, homey decor, family photos on the walls. You noticed lots of photos of a young teenager, a daughter? He hadn’t mentioned it. He followed your gaze and interrupted your thoughts, “Yeah, thats… That’s my daughter, Sarah.”

Your eyes must have widened in surprise and he reassured you, “She’s not here. She’s at my mother’s. And her mother, well… I ain’t seen her for over ten years.”

“O-Oh.” You stuttered, frowning. “I wasn’t- I.”

“No, it’s alright.” He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled awkwardly. “I just usually don’t lead with the fact I’m a single dad. Puts some women off.”

“It would take a good bit more than that to put me off you, Joel.” You stepped towards him, closing the gap between you, and he exhaled in relief.

“You need that nightcap, sweetheart?” He asked, voice low and breathless.

You shook your head slightly and he quickly acted, putting a hand under your chin, tilting your lips up towards his and connecting you in a kiss. It was sweet and gentle for a good few seconds before he reached up and removed his jacket from your shoulders, throwing it onto the kitchen island beside you and deepening the kiss, flicking his tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth and one of his hands held you by the back of the head, the other making its way to your waist.

He pushed you softly, leading you backwards down a corridor, breaking the hungry kiss only a few times to get the lights as you traveled through the house. Your hands explored his broad shoulders, his muscular chest, and his defined back. You wondered what he did for work. You imagined it had to be something physical for his body to be in such good shape, plus he seemed the type.

He reached out to open a door behind you and guided you in, kicking it closed again behind the two of you. He continued to guide you backwards until your legs hit against the foot of the bed and you sat down. He remained standing, his hand cupping your jaw and tilting it upwards to keep eye contact. His eyes were dark with lust and the sight of him above you like this was enough to make you squirm, pressing your thighs together, although the short dress you wore meant there was no friction between your legs to relieve the tension you felt. He smirked, watching you.

“Pretty dress.” He remarked, reaching behind you to unzip it. You reached up to him simultaneously, working at the buttons on his flannel shirt. As you undid them, it revealed tanned skin, a strong chest and core that wasn’t perfectly chiseled, rather he was clearly muscular but still soft. Dark hair trailed from his lower stomach into his jeans and you frantically tried to unbuckle his belt as he slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

You were breathing heavily, the house was silent except for a clock ticking and the bed creaking with every moment.

His fingers toyed with the skirt of your dress and you reached down to grasp the hem, taking the initiative and pulling it over your head, leaving you in a white matching lingerie set. You thanked yourself for your choice of underwear despite it genuinely not having been your intention to put it on display tonight.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He breathed, leaning his head down to kiss you again. You blushed and threw your head back, and he continued to kiss, your throat, your collarbones, and the curve of your cleavage peaking out of your lace bra.

He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs. His erect cock, pressing against his boxers, was level with your face. You made a concentrated effort not to open your mouth involuntarily at the sight. He must have caught the hungry expression in your eyes as he chuckled, “Patience, sweetheart.”

He discarded the jeans on the floor followed by his socks and pushed you until you lay back on his comfortable bed. As you breathed deeply you inhaled his rich musky scent that surrounded you. His mouth found its way to your neck again, peppering it with open mouthed kisses and applying light suction now and then. You rubbed your thighs together again, desperate for attention on the aching that grew in intensity between your legs. He was in tune with your body, noticing this and spreading them with a large, warm hand.

He pressed on you lightly through your underwear, cupping you and squeezing gently. You moaned a little and you could hear him exhale a breath of amusement. He liked the effect he was having on you.

You were fairly experienced but something about this handsome stranger had you writhing under him like a touch-starved virgin. This powerful, commanding, and dominant partner in bed was something you were yet to experience and you knew Joel would provide it.

He put a hand into your underwear and his fingers slipped through your wet folds. He let out a sigh at the sensation, “You’re soaked for me, gorgeous.”

You whined and lightly thrusted your hips up, grinding into his touch. This earned you a chuckle from him. Your eagerness turned him on like nothing else.

His exploration of you was painstakingly slow and you couldn’t help but plead “J-Joel.”

He obliged immediately, thrusting two fingers inside your wet hole. You moaned instantly at the sensation you had been waiting for.

“Y-Yes.” You gasped, and he picked up his speed, thrusting his fingers in and out of you, curling and scissoring inside of you to hit every spot of your tight walls.

“Oh, god. Yes, god, Oh m-“

“That’s not my name, baby.”

Joel and his one liners. You giggled but were quickly cut off into a gasping mess when he began hammering his fingers inside you at speed, inserting a 3rd one too. You felt his large erection pressing into you and felt grateful he wasn’t rushing through the foreplay.

“Will you let me taste you, baby?” He groaned quietly into your ear.

You released a strangled moan, utterly turned on by his request. It felt intimate for a one-night stand but you found yourself nodding eagerly, keen to please him and let him take whatever he likes from your body.

He quickly moves downwards, hooking a finger into each side of your panties and dragging them down your hips. Freeing them from your legs, and reaching up above your head, tucking them safely under the pillow.

He spreads your legs apart with two strong hands and you gasp in anticipation as he closes in on you, connecting his lips to your clit, softly sucking, kissing, dragging his tongue through your folds down to your leaking entrance and back up again to repeat. His stubble and moustache rubbed pleasantly against you, tickling you as he worked at you with his mouth.

After a while, he added his hand, intensifying the sensations he was giving you. He curled his fingers lazily inside of you, slowly torturing your sensitive insides and not reducing any of the attention he was giving your clit, continuing to flick his tongue against it violently, strong hands forcing your hips down to keep still on the bed where your body was naturally writhing and grinding up against him.

As he continued, your string of helpless moans increased in volume and became less words and more garbled curses and sounds.

“Oh, Joel.” A strangled moan left you and he hummed back in response, sending a vibration through your clit where his mouth was attached to you, making you shudder and gasp. The intensity of the pleasure he was giving you had tears welling in the corner of your eyes.

His prowess allowed him to sense when your orgasm was coming when you did, gripping the curls at the back of his head and pulling him closer to you- if that was possible.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded enthusiastically, panting his name and as he increased the pressure on your clit, sucking slightly harder and fucking you with his fingers slightly faster, you felt your orgasm building, hot ropes of tension in your stomach, and down each limb.

After a few more seconds you snapped, practically screaming his name. He slowed down his fingers but didn’t stop as he licked wide stripes up and down your entire pussy as if he was cleaning you up. You shivered as the overstimulation was sending you crazy, his stubble tickling you and giving you goosebumps on your thighs.

“Please,” You begged him, pushing his head away slightly. You looked down at him through hazy eyes and saw something erotic; the sight of his mouth and moustache glistening wet with your juices, and him looking back up at you grinning like a devil.

You had never slept with a man who had prioritised your pleasure in this way, making you orgasm before you had even touched him. This was intoxicating, and you felt as though what should have been a simple one night stand with Joel may lead to you becoming hooked on him.

As your sensitive parts took time to recover, he was slipping out of his boxers. A large and hard erection stood up , slapping his lower stomach and leaking pre-cum from its pinkish red tip. Your jaw dropped at the size.

“Close that mouth sugar before I fill it up.” He growled.

The gentleman act was over. As you had requested, Joel wasn’t going to treat you like a lady in the sheets. Your eyes still widened in surprise and you saw him smirk at the effect his words had on you.

“You ready to take this cock, hm?” He asked, grasping it and dragging the tip through your wet folds, circling your clit before taking it back down to nudge at your entrance.

You nodded and pushed your hips up towards him but this earned you a light slap on your upper thigh. “Uhuh,” He scolded. “Use your words, darlin’. Tell me what you want.”

You moaned as he slowly tortured you by continuing to grind the head of his hard cock against you, giving you pleasurable friction but nothing close to what you desired which was his cock buried deep inside you.

“Please, Joel.” You begged in an erotic tone that you were surprised to hear coming from yourself. It practically sounded fake and exaggerated the way you were panting and pleading for him. “Need you to fuck me Joel need you to fill me up, please, ah-”

He cut off your speech by pressing the tip into your entrance slowly, earning a gasp from you. It hadn’t even been that long since you last got laid but his sheer size would take some getting used to.

“Good girl. Thank you for asking so politely.” He continued to push into you, his own breathing faltering as he did so.

You moaned loudly at the sensation of his wide cock spreading you open, stretching your tight hole around him. “Please, Joel.”

“Jesus christ baby girl,” he groaned. “I’d give you the world if you asked like that.”

You pulled him close to you by wrapping your hands around his back and the back of his neck, kissing him messily as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you. It was a welcome sensation but the aching inside of you was craving more. You wiggled your hips against his to increase the tension and he chuckled.

“So greedy.” He taunted, slapping your breast lightly with a hand he has been using to toy with your nipple.

He gave in to your silent demands, increasing the force of his thrusts, and you moaned loudly every time he bottomed out, reaching the perfect spot inside you and stretching you out so pleasurably. His hands came down to wrap around your hips and, gently at first, he pulled you towards himself in sync with each thrust. This earned louder moans from you, and your expressions as he watched you from above could have made him spill inside you right then and there. You were absolutely gorgeous and the tortured but positively blissed out look on your face as he had his way with you was awakening a primal level of desire inside him.

“Play with those tits for me, gorgeous.” He asked, and you reached out both hands to cup each tit, pinching your nipples between your thumb and forefinger, rolling them. Pushing your tits together and moaning, biting your lip and releasing strangled moans as he fucked you at a relentless pace.

You were certainly a performer, he noted, whilst he was in control here, there was nothing passive about your role, putting on an erotic display for his eyes only. A thought intruded into his mind that he tried hard to push away- I never want any other man to see her like this again.

He pulled out unexpectedly and you looked up at him questioningly, but he quickly answered by grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your front, dragging your body up so you were on your hands and knees. So, he would play dirty. You wiggled your ass for him in anticipation and he groaned at the sight, grasping one cheek hard with his large hand.

He guided his cock into you and wasted no time slamming himself fully in. This angle helped you appreciate his size and was hitting something impossibly deep within you. He set an aggressive pace that had you nearly screaming, and you struggled to keep yourself upright and steady on your hands. Your back arched and his view was perfect of your tanned skin, light tanlines visible on your lower back.

He grunted loudly, the sounds of both of you vocalising, skin slapping, and the bed creaking violently, filled the once silent house.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.” He praised. You couldn’t respond, intense pleasure rendering you speechless, only able to produce strings of moans.

“I’m gonna come,” He announced, his thrusts remained forceful but his rhythm faltered and with a grunt he pulled out. Your pussy clenched, the feeling of emptiness with the absence of his cock was unwelcome.

With a few strokes of his fist, you heard him groan loudly as he released a warm load of his cum onto your ass and lower back. He stayed still for a moment, catching his breath as well as appreciating the sight of you beneath him, covered in his seed. He let out a loud sigh and you felt him move away from his position behind and eventually, felt the weight on the mattress shift as he stood up. He proceeded to open a door and came out with tissues and a wet towel, cleaning you off with both. You allowed yourself to relax into the intimate moment, the weight of you sinking into the comfortable mattress as he took care of you.

He reached up under the pillow, grabbing your underwear where he had stashed it before and gently lifting your legs to guide it back up your body. He crawled into the bed too, pulling the covers from beneath you and tucking you both in.

“I’d like you to stay.” He whispered into the space between you.

You hummed. He seemed so genuine, it wasn’t an offer he was giving out of obligation, or an I guess you can stay if you have to- Joel was open and honest and told you what he wanted.

“And I’d like it if you would give me your number.” He added.

You nuzzled your face closer into his chest, feeling comforted by his strong, warm body.

“I was afraid you’d never ask.” You muttered, kissing his neck softly as he tightened his grip around you, holding you close to him.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou show #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #tlou smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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yesimwriting · 1 year

Text

Final Girl (Part 10)

Final Girl Masterlist (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

A/n i’m leaning towards starting to write shorter chapters in order to be able to update a little faster but idk

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of learning that a certain redheaded journalist is making you a focal point of her true crime novel.

----

In the least cynical way possible, sometimes I think a part of my mom craves conflict. Not in a narcissistic or violent way, just in a protective one.

She doesn’t pick fights for the sake of having them, she doesn’t tear into things for the rush of adrenaline or to feed some complex. My mom likes standing up for people in a way that would be annoyingly self righteous if it was any less genuine. Any incident that could be interpreted as blood in the water has her diving in head first, ready to ward off any potential sharks.

That’s why nothing about this rampage is surprising. She’s been pacing the length of the kitchen without giving the phone in her hand a break, typing out numbers at an unbelievable speed, only occasionally pausing to flip through the phone book on the counter.

“Well then put me through,” she stalls long enough to put a hand on her hip, “Not to an assistant, not to the station, or the publishing company. Get Gale Weathers on the phone. Now.”

This is the third time she’s pulled this stunt since I walked into the kitchen to grab a pity snack. The way she presses her lips together tells me that this time hasn’t been any more successful. “She’s too busy? Well, I hope she’s not too busy for a law su--” Something cuts her off. My mom blinks. “Hello?”

“I told you that threatening to sue people wouldn’t work over the phone.”

She pulls the phone away from her ear with a sigh. “It’s not a threat if I mean it.” The phone is placed on the counter as she turns her attention to the phone book. “That woman can’t do this. You, and your legal guardian, never consented to your likeness or story being used.”

Unfortunately, that’s not completely true. Or, at the very least, it’s not that concrete or straight forward. When something’s news, information becomes a lot less easy to claim as personal or yours. Especially if personal information is kept vague enough. The second I was attacked by Ghostface and the news reported it, a lot of me in that context became a lot less legally sound. I’d have to prove it defamed me or hurt my life, which can’t be done before the book comes out.

“We can’t prove that until the book is out.”

She sighs, “There has to be something.” My mom taps her manicured nails against the granite counter top.

My stomach twists with helplessness as the most urgent issue rushes to the front of my mind. It’s more than just someone taking advantage of my trauma or the fact that books are so much more permanent than any news headline ever could be. Books take time to come out, to circulate, which means that this tell all could reach its peak during my college app season. Princeton could see this. All colleges could see this.

“Mom...” I can feel the tremor in my voice, but I can’t bring myself to stop it.

In a way, isn’t this best case scenario? Compared to what could have happened? Isn’t this such a small thing compared to what happened to Casey? I know this, but I can’t quite bring myself to feel it fully. Not when it comes to something I’ve worked for my entire life.

“What if--what if this gets in the way of Princeton?”

She presses her lips together, watching me openly in a way that’s become familiar. “Oh, pumpkin,” she breathes, moving across the counter to pull me into a hug, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I squeeze her tightly. “And that I don’t know what to say or how to help.” She smooths my hair down gently. “But when it comes to school, all you can do is keep up your grades and when the time comes, write the best essay you can. And if they’re stupid enough to turn down your weirdly-good grades and insane resume, then screw Princeton.”

Despite myself, I smile. Those soft digs at my type-A-ness aren’t lost on me and the sense of familiarity I get from them instantly make it easier. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, and if you want, you could always write your own tell-all book that would outsell hers because yours is from the--”

“Excuse me?”

She lets go of me, taking a step back at my offense. “I’m not telling you to write it, I’m just saying a published book would look good on an Ivy-league application.”

Sometimes I’m so crazy about school that I forget my mom is also capable of insanity. “Mom!”

My mom lets out a sigh. “What? You’ve been obsessed with Princeton since your dad gave you his old college sweatshirt in the third grade, but now I’m crazy?”

She’s half joking and I know she’d never actually push me to write something like that, but my stomach still turns. Yes, I have made a ton of jokes about having no morals when it comes to college apps, but it’s different now. Anything that has to do with that Ghostface stuff feels tainted. I don’t want success from him. I don’t want anything good from Casey’s death.

I pick up the spoon that’s sunken into my partially melted bowl of ice cream. “I am not exploiting this.”

She holds her hands up in defense, “It’d ruin Gale’s book, jump start your career in journalism.” My mom extends an arm, asking for my spoon. I sigh before handing it to her. She eats a healthy spoonful of ice cream. “Two birds, one stone.”

I scoff, taking the spoon back and eating my own spoonful. "You’re sick.”

My mom steps back form the counter. “Just a suggestion.”

I’m about to assert my previous point when the doorbell rings. I raise an eyebrow at my mom, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone. I’m not so I just shrug, moving away from the counter and towards the door.

There’s a chance it could be Wells. He’s at work, but it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot his keys. I peak out the window and am instantly pleasantly surprised. I’m more excited than I can justify as I reach for the front door’s lock.

The door creaks open and I fight down a grin. I don’t know why they’re here, but I don’t mind the unexpected visit. I had been planning on moping and rotting in bed until school.

“Hey,” I mumble, latching onto my surprise.

Stu flashes a warm smile in greeting, “Hey, sweetheart.”

I wrinkle my nose at the nickname despite its tameness. My mom’s way too close for that. I’m torn between making a joke about it and avoiding drawing attention to my concern and giving Stu a reason to push. I settle on looking over at Billy. He’s standing in a way that feels a little stiff.

There’s a chance they called first, since they usually do when they come over through the front door instead of just showing up at my window. “If you called, my mom’s sort of taken over our phone line.” They both already know about Gale’s book and the fact that she’s editing it to include me, since they were both there when I found out. That still doesn’t make it easy to talk about, “She’s hunting down Gale Weathers.”

"Then I’m scared for Gale Weathers.” Stu raises his eyebrows, exaggerating concern.

Billy nods once, “She deserves it.”

That’s true. I wasn’t exactly kind to her during our brief meeting, but she ambushed me at school after I was attacked. But that can’t be enough to justify what she’s doing now, especially without so much as a ‘heads up, you’re in my book’ phone call. If you’re going to potentially ruin someone’s future because they happened to have survived a serial killer, it wouldn’t kill you to call first.

“Anything...else up?” Stu’s question surprises me. Maybe I didn’t react fast enough or I still look as worried about all of this as I feel.

I don’t want to get into the details of my concern. I freaked out in front of them enough after I saw Gale’s announcement on TV, but there’s no way I can get away with acting like I’m perfectly okay with it all now. I guess I’ll go with deflecting, “Just my mom being a total college obsessed psycho.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth tilts upwards, almost a smile. “You had to get it from somewhere.”

I glare at him in a way that I really hope is cutting. “Shut up. I’m not psycho.”

“I’ve seen the Princeton poster in your roo--” I shake my head sharply, extending an arm to softly punch Stu’s arm.

He stops, more out of surprise than decency. I drop my voice to a low whisper in order to explain, “My mom’s not that distracted, and she doesn’t know you’ve ever been in my room.” Stu grins at my seriousness. “And she can never find out.”

This only makes him grin more openly, “Keeping secrets for me?”

“I’m not above kicking you guys out.”

Billy sighs, a defensive huff. “I didn’t do anything.”

A slightly too aggressive you brought him here almost slips out, but I manage to stop it. Maybe if I was in a more joking, lighthearted mood I’d let myself make that kind of aggressive joke, but I’m moody and there’s a good chance my irritation will slip into that. it’ll taint the comment and make it something a lot more serious than it’s supposed to be.

“Yet,” I settle on, trying to feel as easy as the comment.

He frowns, eyebrows pulling together like he just watched me kick a puppy. After a second, Billy parts his lips, but he doesn’t get to say anything back.

“Who’s at the door?” My mom’s voice carries from the hall and to the entryway, a moment later she appears. I turn my head in time to see her polite smile, a little irate thanks to how the last day and a half have been. “Oh, hi, Billy, Stu.’’ Her greeting is flatter than usual as she barely takes a second to look up from the phone. “Come in, come in.”

I step back to create space for them to come in. Despite my mom’s instinctual fall back to politeness, she barely notices the difference as she hits redial before pressing the phone to her ear. “Do you guys want anything to drink or...are you hungry or...going...” She trails off, attention visibly shifting as she waves us off, “Hello, can I--look, that’s great, Jocelyn, but I need to get in touch with your supervisor?”

With one last force-of-habit smile, she turns away from the entryway and walks out. I walk towards the front door, instinctually shutting and locking it. “That’s basically my life now.”

“Poor thing,” Stu’s voice is thick with false sympathy, “Your mommy’s fixing everything for--”

“Shut up.” The reply comes out too quickly, too serious.

Stu blinks once, clearly not expecting the hint of actual tension and hostility that managed to press itself into the two words. “Someone’s moody.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a long second. “Sorry, I didn’t--” Sighing, I try to force the stiffness out of my body. “This book thing’s starting to get to me. I know that’s not an excuse, I just--” I don’t know how to explain the knot in my throat or the nerves in my stomach.

The thought of this one thing I was delusional enough to think that I might be able to one day put behind me being everywhere is starting to claw at my insides. That helplessness is being amplified by a strange form of guilt, because I’m the one that’s still alive, so why should I get to complain?

“Hey,” Stu interrupts my derailing train of thought. He places a hand on my shoulder, “No hard feelings, okay?”

I nod, irritated at myself for the tears I feel burning in my eyes. “Okay.”

“You wanna get out of here?” Billy’s question is so low I almost convince myself I made it up. But then he lets out a breath and tacts on something else, “...Or we could go upstairs or watch a movie or whatever?”

The offer is so gentle I nearly melt. “Did you guys want to do something?”

They did come here, probably for a reason. Not that they never come over just to hang out, but they usually have some kind of plan or suggestion, like going over to Stu’s or driving around or watching a specific movie.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Billy’s reply comes out slowly, his eyes not fully focused on me. “We called and you didn’t answer, and after the news thing...”

That’s fair. I did leave Stu’s house pretty fast after the Gale Weathers thing and haven’t talked to anyone outside of my house for over 24 hours. Usually people worrying about how I’m handling things makes me feel uncomfortably hollow, but this doesn’t make any of that come up. Maybe it’s because they’re not making it feel like pity.

“Uh...” There’s honestly not much that seems fun right now. A part of me still wants to crawl under my covers and pretend that nothing else exists, but they’ve pulled me out worse moods before. “I can show you guys that album I was talking about?” The offer feels weak, a little hollow. Stu squeezes my shoulder before relaxing his arm. “The CD’s in my room.” I shrug, looking between the two of them, “Or we could do whatever.”

“You’ve been talking about that CD for a long time for someone who always forgets to bring it.” Stu’s not even trying to hide his accusation as he starts walking down the hallway.

I cross my arms, giving Billy a look that asks if he can believe all I have to deal with. “Yeah, I’m just worried your top 20 pallet is too complex for our tastes to ever overlap.”

Stu scoffs, “Yeah, I’m the one that’s into top 20.”

“Out of the three of us?” Billy’s question rivals Stu’s blatant sarcasm.

I fight down a smile as Stu turns his head enough to glare. The display of irritation is short lived, because Stu has to turn back around to avoid tripping on the first stair step. He nearly misses, but recovers so quickly I wouldn’t have noticed the misstep if I hadn’t been looking at him. Sometimes his stability surprises me, because Stu’s energetic and lanky enough to warrant being a little clumsy, but he’s a lot better at not tripping than me.

We walk up the stairs, the only sound filling the space is my mom’s voice, too far for any specifics to be made out.

“I think I miss your mom not trusting us.” Stu lets out a wistful sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I push open the door to my room. “Don’t worry, she’s just distracted.”

Even though my mom’s phone tirade is definitely helping her be so easy, I know what he’s talking about. When Billy and Stu first started hanging around, my mom felt the need to hover a lot more. She’d check up on us a lot more than she would when I was alone with Sidney or Tatum. My mom would also make a lot of jokes and comments in order to pry as (not so) subtly as possible. Slowly, she became more accustomed (or maybe desensitized), to them and now my mom acts a lot more normal in front of them. When they leave, she normally still pushes a little, usually through humor, but it’s a lot more tolerable now.

Stu walks into my room before I can, walking towards my bed. “We’re growing on her.”

I sit down next to him. “Or she finally gets that you two barely register as guys to me.”

Stu moves, intentionally bumping his knee into mine, hard enough to make my knee move. Once he has my attention, he flexes an arm. “I’m all man, angel.”

There’s an exaggerated quality to his reaction that I can’t tell if I’m meant to take seriously or not. It’s the uncertainty that makes me let out a slight laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He turns his head, leaning back slightly as he presses his palms into my comforter. “Then how’d you mean it?”

My face feels a little warmer than before and I can’t figure out what that’s about. I’m used to Stu pressing after comments like this. Sometimes his humor focuses on making someone feel uncomfortable. Retreating or acting awkward gives him a reason to keep pushing. But I have no good way to answer.

I wipe my hands on the fabric of my jeans. “Don’t start.”

“Maybe I don’t get it.”

I stand, throwing him a dirty look as I move towards my CD player. “Maybe you’re full of shit.”

He huffs, “Mean.”

My fingers skim the row of CDs on my desk before finding the one I’m looking for. I use my nail to pop open the case. “Yeah, I’m a real bully.” Billy, who’s been lingering near my desk, opens my CD player before I can. I set the disk in place. “Can you believe him?”

Billy shakes his head once, a few strands of hair falling out of place with the motion. He picks up the CD case and starts studying the back of it. “I can’t believe you can’t.”

Stu lets out a distracted sound of protest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him fidgeting with something. My room’s not a total disaster, but I’ve been too busy moping to fully clean it, so there are a lot of contenders for things Stu could be messing with. I can’t think of anything that’s within his reach that’s embarrassing or important, so I let it go. Billy seems a little tense and considering the headspace he was in the last time I saw him, figuring that out is important.

“Fair,” I hum, shutting the CD player, “You uh--” His eyes flit upwards, away from the CD case. The look is kind of stiff, but not annoyed or wary. It makes me realize that I don’t really have a good way to finish my sentence. Asking if someone’s okay never feels natural. Especially when he’s only been here for a few. “You okay?” I force myself to focus on the CD player, messing with the volume instead fo just hitting play. “You seem a little tense.”

He sets the plastic case down. “I’m okay.” Billy straightens, shifting his weight off of my desk. The movement is small, he hasn’t even taken a full step, but the change makes him feel a lot closer. “Just can’t believe she can do that.” His tone takes on such a hard edge it takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about. Is the book thing really bothering him that much? “To you, to--does she think she’s untouchable? That guy’s still out there, what makes her think he won’t find her and rip that bitch’s--”

Billy cuts himself off with no warning, eyes focusing on me. I blink. Billy might come off as intense and reserved before you know him, but he’s never seemed explosive or prone to emotional impulsivity like that. Even when I briefly thought he could have been the killer, he never came off as aggressive. He never even held the fact that I put his life in danger and accused him of being a serial killer against me.

This tension is new and it came from feeling defensive over me. The realization that it has something to do over me makes me more antsy than Billy’s actual words.

“Woah,” Stu says through a dry laugh. “Relax, dude, there’s no need to write the next news story for her.” Stu swings an arm over my shoulder. I’m still stuck on what just happened, so it takes me a millisecond too long to weakly attempt to get Stu off of me. He pinches my shoulder, the nail of his thumb digging into my skin just enough for it to register as stinging. “You’re in poor Billy’s head.” I can’t tell if Stu’s teasing is meant to be sympathetic towards Billy or accusatory towards me. “Give the boy a break.”

My chin briefly tilts downwards, a compulsory movement that seems to genuinely want to listen to what’s clearly a joking command. “I’ll try.”

Stu relaxes his hold on me, dragging his thumb up and down the exposed skin of my shoulder, soothing the skin he accidentally irritated. I extend my arm, turning on the music absentmindedly. The room doesn’t exactly feel tense, but I feel a lot smaller than I did a few seconds ago. I don’t know if it’s because of the dip into a gory, too real topic or Stu’s comment or if I’m still just irritable.

“Guess it’s not your fault,” Stu hums, squeezing my shoulder once, “You can’t help being lovable.”

I try to keep myself focused as I adjust the volume of the first song. “That’s true.” He lets go of me and I stand a little straighter. “We all have our faults.”

Billy lets out a breath that’s suspiciously close to a laugh. “Yeah, your only flaw’s that you’re too perfect.”

“You were the one ready to support a murder for her,” Stu defends bluntly, “Not saying that Gale Weathers doesn’t deserve what she gets.”

In all honesty, I had been so distracted by the way the book would affect me and my chances to get past the Ghostface thing that I didn’t even think about the actual killer. This could get him to hurt someone else. Gale Weathers could be making herself a target, but I find the thought unlikely. The more I reflect on why he left me alive the more I think that it might have been because there’s more of a story when there’s a survivor. He joked with me about the final girl thing. He also called me once without attacking anyone. The asshole probably gets off on attention.

Gale Weathers is probably the safest person in this town. The more she talks, the more attention he gets. It probably also helps his ego because he knows everyone’s after him and he hasn’t been caught. It’ll probably get him to hurt someone...just not her. Not that I hope Gale gets stabbed, it just makes her choices that much more selfish.

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at my open palm. The tiny white line, the scar carved into the skin of my hand seems bigger right now. “I don’t--it’s not like I want Gale to get hurt.”

“No one’s saying you do,” Billy says, voice patient.

I sigh, a part of me wishing this hadn’t come up. This was the last thing I wanted to think about, that’s why I’ve been ignoring calls and just focusing on homework. I walk away from my desk and sit down on my bed before slumping back semi-dramatically. If this is how Billy and Stu are acting, everyone at school is definitely going to start treating me weirdly again. Maybe Gale will be there, trying to chase me down for a quote.

Ugh...maybe I can get my mom to bully the principle into letting me homeschool for a few days. A week maximum. Or maybe she’ll let me pretend to have mono or something. I have most of my textbooks here and I could get assignments from--

My bed dips, cutting off my train of thought. I turn my head enough to see Billy. “I--” His voice comes out so low I’m surprised I even heard him over the music. “I didn’t want to bring all of that up for you.”

There’s a softness there that makes it easier to genuinely shake my head dismissively. “It’s okay.”

His eyes briefly meet mine. “I also didn’t uh--didn’t want to freak you out or--”

“You didn’t.” That’s true, at least in the way he meant it. That level of anger over something that only really affects me did surprise me, but it’s not like he scared me. He hesitantly focuses his attention on me. I prop my head up on one elbow, watching him carefully. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.”

Billy tilts his head, his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “Oh, yeah?”

He’s probing, likely trying to trick me into a compliment. “You’re losing your edge.” I keep my voice as nonchalant as possible as I drop my elbow and lay down again. “I think it’s all the time around me.”

His eyebrows draw together like he’s seriously considering my hypothesis. “Valid theory.” The bed moves with no warning, the space to my left indenting. Billy lays down next to me without moving to make sure there’s enough space between me and the headboard. His arm presses into mine. “All the time in here can’t be helping either.”

Billy does come over to my room a lot, usually crashing here when he needs to avoid his dad and doesn’t want to talk about it. Recently, though, he hasn’t been around as much. I didn’t think too much of it until I went over to Stu’s and saw that Billy wasn’t up for much of anything. “It’s the exposure to all the fluffy pillows.”

“Probably.” Something warm brushes against the back of my wrist. Billy carefully traces an invisible line up my forearm. “This song’s nice.”

The warmth of validation tugs at my chest. “It’s my favorite one on here.” He follows the same trail back down the inside of my forearm. “I think you’ll like the uh--” There had been a specific one on the track list that reminded me of a few songs he had shown me before. I list the titles in my head until I remember the right one, “Fourth track.”

“Hm,” he hums in a way that doesn’t feel dismissive, just relaxed.

The bed shifts again. I crane my neck back, eyes straining to see behind me. After a second, I make out Stu circling my nightstand. “This is new.” He’s picking something up. Stu sits back down, making it easier to see what’s caught his attention.

Oh. Not new, but I don’t blame him for not having my bookshelf memorized. “Not new.” He turns the book onto its side, studying the worn spine as if to confirm what I’m saying. “Just haven’t read it in a minute, thought it might cheer up.”

There have been few problems that American Psycho and Patrick Bateman haven’t been able to at least help. It didn’t make me feel a lot better, but it was nice to distract myself from a real life murderer with the fictitious kind.

Stu pauses, skimming the back of the book. “A little dark for a pick me up.”

“It’s well written.”

That’s true, and its commentary on social values and the rise of well off, stockbroker success and the culture that’s developed because of it is interesting and a creative analysis of society’s values. It also helps that despite being written with only a few redeeming qualities and being the literal villain (and weirdly misogynistic), I might have the smallest bit of a thing for Patrick Bateman. Not that I’d ever go for anyone like that in real life, but my fascination with his character is definitely a guilty pleasure. A guilty pleasure they really don’t need to know about.

He thumbs through the pages, attention focused like he’s actually reading it all that fast. Stu nods once, setting the book down at the edge of my bed before picking up a sweatshirt I almost forgot was still on my bed. He takes a second to feel the fabric of the sleeve before loosely folding it. Stu leaves it next to my book before laying down.

We’re all lying horizontally now, but Stu’s backwards, his head closer to my torso and legs than anything else. The position makes it easy for me to secretly move my hand and softly flick his shoulder. Stu snaps his head in my direction, expression so shocked and slightly horrified I might as well have slapped him.

It’d probably be smart to backtrack, but I’m clearly in no mood to make intelligent decisions, so I let myself laugh. The sound is a quick, too-smug giggle. Stu’s eyebrows pull together at the sound, the look concerning in its seriousness. I move to pull my hand back, but my reaction is too late. Stu throws his hand forward, grasping onto my wrist. I yank back once, had enough to be considered serious. Stu squeezes tighter, pulling my arm forward with an ease that embarrasses me.

“Stu!” A partial squeak, a partial laugh.

He squeezes my arm to his chest, forcing my body to lean forward. I squirm, attempting to slip out of his grasp. I come close to escaping when I twist my arm back and turn my wrist without warning him, but Stu recovers. Growing desperate, I use my free hand to shove his shoulder. That backfires, too, encouraging him to use his other hand to keep me trapped.

The play fight escalates, both of us trying to win without getting up or seeming too invested. My wrist makes a cracking sound as I finally slip out of his hold. He’s quick to throw his arm forward and grab me again. Before I can even think to react, Stu tugs my hand upwards and briefly nips the side of my hand.

I gasp so dramatically one might think he tried to gnaw off my entire hand. “Did you just bite me?” Stu laughs, finally letting me take my arm back. I take a second to examine my hand, even though his teeth barely touched me. After deciding that my unmarked skin will one day recover, I prop myself up on my forearm and look over at Billy. “He fucking bit me.”

Billy turns his head, unbothered by our conflict. “You started it.” There’s an underlying smugness that makes me want to shove him. I frown openly, not caring if I get accused of pouting. He sighs, holding up a hand. “Fine. Let’s see the damage.”

“I didn’t even touch her.”

I roll my eyes at Stu’s defense. Did it hurt? No, but it was deeply offensive. “You’re lucky I don’t bite you.”

Stu lets out a breath, “Sweetheart, you can bi--”

“Do not.” I keep my voice stern as I look at Billy’s waiting hand. He asked to see the damage, but there really isn’t any. The skin beneath my thumb wasn’t even grossly damp. It was more about my shock. But I still listen, setting my hand on his.

Billy pulls on my hand gently, studying my skin intently. He even takes a second to bend my fingers and stretch them back out. “Think you’ll live.”

I nod, letting Billy take his time still examining my hand. “Optimistic prognosis.”

He shrugs slightly, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Only if you’ve had all your shots.”

Stu’s scoff and offended, “Fuck off,” are nearly drowned out by my laughter. Billy sets my hand down between us carefully. My giggling fit is drawn out by the rush of fondness in my chest. These two really are so much weirder than people realize and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Wow. They really are my best friends, and maybe arguably the most important people in my life.

Feeling this close to anyone usually makes me want to be flighty. I’m not used to it when it comes to people I haven’t known my entire life, and there’s an inherent nervousness when it comes to growing attached to people you don’t completely know. It is kind of weird to feel this close to them and I haven’t even seen Billy’s room yet, so it makes sense that sometimes it feels different than what I’m used to.

“What are you thinking about?” The question takes me by surprise, breaking the easy silence that’s been carried by the soft music.

I blink at Billy’s words, a small part of me reacting like I’ve been caught doing something embarrassing. “Uh...nothing.” Fairly true. It’s not like my train of thought was focused or made much sense. Still, though, I should probably give him something more so he doesn’t assume that I’m trying to hide a mental break down. “...That you’re one of my best friends and I’ve never been to your house before.”

Stu lightly squeezes my forearm. “You’re not missing much.”

“You bit me,” I mumble, “What do you know?”

He relaxes his hold on me in order to run his knuckles up and down my arm. “It was a love bite.”

“Like a feral cat.”

Stu scoffs. “This is why Billy doesn’t want you at his place.”

Wow. Rude. I part my lips, ready to insult him. “Okay,” Billy interjects, “Don’t start again.” A part of me’s offended by the defense. I should be able to fight Stu over this. “You guys are kids.”

I glare, “Rude.”

“Fine, let him bite you again.” My nose wrinkles, but before I can say anything, Billy continues, “And he’s not wrong, you’re not missing much.”

He’s probably right, I’ve just been thinking about it a little more than usual. “Until I see it, I’m going to think that your bedsheets are bright pink.”

“Actually, they’re bright purple.”

The sarcasm comes out so quickly, so casually, I almost think he means it. “Nice try, but I’m still assuming neon pink.”

He sighs, “It’s neon now?” The question’s mumbled, and before I can say anything back, Billy sits up.

Stu turns onto his side, eyebrows drawn together in order to silently ask what’s up with Billy. “What are you doing?”

“If she’s going to make up things about my room until she sees it...” He walks away from my bed, stopping close to my door. “We should get it over with.”

Oh my god?? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I also wasn’t prepared for the wave of excitement buzzing in my chest. I sit up too quickly, too telling. “Really?”

It’s a casual thing that I really don’t want to make weird, but I wasn’t angling to get him to take us over there. And the thought is nice, they’re my best friends and a bedroom gives insight into a person. It’s also the perfect distraction after everything that’s happened today.

“Yeah? Really?”

Billy shrugs, already reaching my door. “It’ll be better than whatever she makes up about it.”

A good point, because I was already thinking about ways to work in an assumption about him having zebra print lampshades and posters pulled from pre-teen magazines. “Am I getting that predictable?”

He raises his eyebrows and Stu tries to conceal a laugh. I roll my eyes as Billy returns the question, “Getting?”

“Haha.” Why do I hang out with them? I take back all the warm, fuzzy thoughts about them.

I push myself to my feet, looking for my shoes. Stu sits up, waiting for me to find my sneakers. Because I was planning on hiding in my room until school, I almost didn’t change out of pajamas and now I’m glad I changed into some leggings and a comfortable shirt this morning.

My shoes were hiding underneath a pillow. I free them and sit on the edge of my bed to pull them on. Stu taps my knee, getting me to turn. “What?”

He pats his lap once, implying something I don’t get. When I don’t react quickly enough, Stu sighs and bends forward. He pulls on my laces. “I can--” It’s too late, he’s already looped them once and is working on doing it again. “Double knotted?”

Stu squeezes my ankle after tying my last shoe. “You trip too much for me not to.”

I scoff, “You were almost nice.”

“I’m always nice to you, angel.”

rolling my eyes, I move to stand after Stu straightens.

“Grab a jacket,” Billy mumbles, “It’s cold.”

If my mom could see this, she’d never make another joke about him again. Actually, she’d probably say he’s one of my only friends with good sense. “Nerd.”

He gives me a more-than-slightly-annoyed look as I reach for the jacket hanging on my desk chair. I make a point of holding up the jacket before folding the fabric over my arm.

----

It’s a lot harder to not look like a little kid on a field trip than one would think. Maybe it’s the jacket that’s gone from neatly folded over my arm to a wadded up lump pressed snugly into my chest, held in place by my crossed together arm. The spring in my step could be part of the problem, a slight bounce that has to be a result of the touch of fall chilliness in the air and has absolutely nothing to do with internal excitement. That’d be way too dramatic.

Billy unlocks the door and pulls it open. Stu walks in first, I follow. We walk down a short entryway that leads to a main living area. The living area is put together, radiating a neatness that almost feels clinical. Maybe that’s an exaggerated way of taking in the precisely angled arm chairs and the glass figurine that’s sitting on the coffee table, but I can’t help the thought. It has to be a byproduct of the ‘organized chaos’ my mom raised me on, a stack of magazines in the living room that never seem to fully straighten and unmatched pillows that get paired together to tell a story.

The space is nice, though, some underlying factor I can’t pinpoint making it still feel a little homey. It’s almost like the room’s covered by an invisible cloak that makes it clear that people live here, that this isn’t some open house. I take my time looking around the room, trying to find a source for this feeling.

There are a few framed photos, but none of them revolving around family enough to offer a homey feel, just pictures of a little boy growing up. The fuzzy one of the boy at maybe the age of six stands out on the coffee table, his smile reveals a missing tooth in a way that makes it a personal favorite. For a second, I think the subtle lived in atmosphere could be coming from the few knick knacks on the coffee table and book shelf, but quickly rule that out. Sure, they’re objectively nice decorations but they don’t fit together in that way. There’s no way a dad didn’t pick them out.

I guess the feeling comes from the details. The most comfortable looking arm chair is the one closest to the bookshelf even though that corner of the room is almost a little too cramped for the two to sit next to each other. The rug matches the walls and the couch in a way that makes the cream colored pillows seem sad and out of place.

“Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

Stu’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. I nod once, stepping towards the coffee table. My hand reaches forward, picking up the picture of the kid with the missing tooth. “Oh, most definitely.”

Billy sighs at the same time Stu lets out a quick, easy laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“Put it down,” Billy mumbles halfheartedly, but it’s too late. Stu’s at my side, taking the smooth frame. He holds it up and then down, squinting like he’s studying a complex work of art. “This was a mistake.”

I grin, “Once again, most definitely.”

“You used to be a real softie.” Stu delivers the comment in a way that feels almost factual. I bite down a joke about how used to feels like an exaggeration as Stu sets down the frame.

Billy frowns a little too pointedly. “Yeah, I was the one that was sensitive.”

I turn my head towards Stu, who’s stiffer than he was too seconds ago. There’s definitely a story there. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Stu pouts, lazily extending an arm in my direction. “He’s always been jealous of me.”

Mhm. I roll my eyes, sighing as I reluctantly step forward and meet him halfway. Stu squeezes my shoulder. The gesture is gentle enough, but I still halfheartedly try to push him off. “Yeah, jealous sounds like the right word.”

He huffs. “Don’t be mean.”

I force my thumb downwards. My nail pinches at my skin a little but it works, I get in between the fabric of my shirt and Stu’s palm. He curves his hand to give me the space I need. “I’m never mean.” He tries to squeeze my thumb down flat. “Seriously, though,” I turn my head enough to look at Billy, “Story?”

Billy tilts his head just enough for me to notice and his eyebrows pull together. The feeling that he’s silently trying to tell me something I can’t interpret tugs at me briefly. He straightens his stance before I can read too much into the look. “Imagine that with the impulse control of a seven-year-old, that’s the story.”

Stu being a former terror is a topic that’s been touched on before. Usually, the issue with befriending people that have known each other their entire lives is that you’ll never have the childhood experiences together. You’ll never know whose parents hosted the sleepovers or who had constantly scraped knees or who went through an embarrassing obsession with some child targeted franchise.

It’s a fair thing thing to be intimidated by. And normally, it’d sting from time to time, but with them it rarely does. I like hearing the stories, like the details that come up.

Stu scoffs in complaint, fighting back with renewed interest as I come close to freeing my shoulder.

“He used to have a thing for bugs,” Billy offers after a second, “Didn’t like when people would mess with hives and-and food routes or whatever.”

The hand on my shoulder nearly goes slack. I blink, twisting my neck to look at Stu, whose staring straight ahead. “Shut up.” The words come out uncharacteristically passive, and maybe even a little flat.

Picturing Stu as one of those insect fact kids wouldn’t come to me naturally, but it does kind of fit. Not the defending them, but the interest in something that gets people to react.

“Really?”

Stu sighs, “Not really.” Again, a surprisingly flat defense. “I didn’t have a thing...just thought they were...” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “Cool.”

“So cool you had to put a beetle in Valerie Thompson’s cubbie.”

...And there it is. I laugh despite myself, imagining a second-grade Stu and some poor girl getting into some kind of argument and then later finding something crawling between her crayons and coloring sheets. Maybe it’s a good thing we met when we did. Little me could be a monster in her own way, a way that wouldn’t have fit theres. “That poor girl.”

“Valerie Thompson had it coming,” Stu says, “Y’know what she was like.”

I don’t know if it’s weird that I assumed that Stu was talking to me or both of us instead of just talking to Billy. The comment was small, offhanded and focused on a topic only they know about. It’s fair for him to not be talking to me. Rationally, I get it. That doesn’t mean I like it, though.

I’ve seen them interact in ways that make it feel like everyone else is invisible. They get each other like that. Anyone that’s around them long enough to see them relax has to get it. It’s the kind of understanding that makes people insecure about their own best-friendship. Not that it makes me feel like that. Most of the time.

Something about it right now burns more than usual. My feelings aren’t hurt, I’m not upset because that wouldn’t be fair, but I’m not comfortable and breezy either. That just makes it worse, why does it feel different now?

Maybe my irritability is a result of multiple things. All I’ve had to today is a few spoonfuls of the ice cream that I mainly picked at so that my mom wouldn’t worry and I’ve had no water. The whole book thing has been stressful, too, and the pulsing ache of a migraine is starting to settle behind my right eye.

It was nice of Billy to invite me over because I asked, but maybe it’s too early for me to be out again. Maybe what I need is the safe enclosure of my bedroom, dim lighting, and a nap.

I try to shake off my discomfort by acting on instinct. The instinct of a feral toddler that isn’t getting enough attention. I twist my thumb, poking his hand with my nail. I’m not being mean about it, but I could have been gentler. Stu doesn’t react, which only adds to my annoyance.

My knuckles bend, giving me the space I need to get enough leverage to separate Stu’s hand from my arm. He lets me.

“Guess he hasn’t changed that much since he bit you today.”

The direct comment has me easing slightly. I get myself to smile. “Clearly.”

Billy takes a partial step forward, “You good?”

I scratch the back of my arm, trying to ground myself in the present. Be normal. “Yeah...just tired.” Which is true enough. I wipe at my face, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control the dull pain. “And I feel like I’m getting a headache.”

He nods, expression cloudy. “You want tylenol or water or...something.”

Pull it together. I force my hands to my side as I shake my head once. “I’m okay, just spaced out for a second.”

“You need to lay down?” Stu tilts his head, watching me like a part of him thinks I could faint.

My fingertips press into my side. “I’m good, it’s just a migraine.” This is what happens when someone decides to write a book about the most traumatic thing I’ve ever gone through. “Probably just stress.” They’re staring attentively. I can’t blame them for their concern. If I freaked out right now, this wouldn’t be my first meltdown. The fact that it’s warranted makes everything feel like too much. “Can we get back to analyzing Billy’s baby pictures? I think I saw one with a pool floaty on the bookshelf.”

“Baby pictures are low tier.” Stu briefly lifts a hand before dropping it dismissively, swiping at the air. “The real making fun of Billy’s in his room.”

“Really?”

"Yep. All the angst.”

Intriguing. “All the angst and pink sheets, right?”

“Neon.”

Billy sighs once, reluctantly stepping forward. This is all out of his control now. “You two don’t need to be around each other.”

He walks past the couch, approaching a hall that leads away from the living room. Stu turns his head the second Billy’s back is to us. “So jealous of us.”

Despite myself, I smile, finally feeling a bit more at ease. “So.”

We walk down the hall together. Billy’s fully ditched us, but Stu knows where we’re going. The hall is short, we pass one door before Stu stops us in front of one that’s partially open. He opens it fully with a gentle push and walks in without a second thought.

I’m still stepping into the room when the bed creaks loudly thanks to the sudden addition of Stu’s weight. He’s making himself just as at home as he does in my room, rolling onto his stomach to reach for a pillow to tuck beneath him.

Billy sighs from his desk chair, moving his legs off the foot of the bed. “What did we say you were? Seven?”

Stu cranes his neck, glaring at Billy before relaxing again. “And a half.”

“Feels generous.” The joke comes out instinctually, but my attention’s already divided.

Billy’s room is made up of deep blue-grey walls, not quite dark but nowhere close to light either. All the furniture is made of dark wood that matches the hardwood of the floor. The room is decorated a little neater than one would expect for a teenage boy, a few posters that are sized too well to not have been picked out carefully. They’re movie themed, though nowhere near as openly gory or sexualized as the one’s in Stu’s.

Everything’s also nicely organized. Like, even more organized than my room. No clothes on the floor or laundry sitting in a basket or on a chair in a pile that’s left to grow until it eventually topples over. What I can see of his desk is also put together, no assignments or unfinished books or projects cluttering the surface.

I walk towards the bed, siting down on the edge. The comforter is navy blue and a lot softer than I thought it’d be. His sheets are dark colored, neutral plaid. Not hot pink or an obnoxious shade of purple, unfortunately. I can’t bring myself to mind being wrong. The space is really Billy in a reserved sort of way. It fits him.

“No pink sheets.” Billy’s voice snaps me out of my analysis. It’s a good thing, too, because I was probably seconds away from touching things on his bookshelf and messing with the lamp and being nosey about knick knacks. I’d feel worse about the desire to pry and investigate for entertainment’s sake if both of them weren’t constantly looking through my things.

My hand brushes the edge of the sheet that’s folded over. “Disappointing.” I twist awkwardly to better look at him. Billy’s bouncing his leg, not looking at anything in particular. “But besides that, it’s nice and not as embarrassing as Stu said it’d be.”

Billy’s eyebrows draw together, “As?”

Stu props his head up on one elbow despite the fact that most of his arm sinks into a pillow. “Look through his underwear draw and then we’ll talk.”

I laugh, surprising myself with how loud and genuine it is. The suddenness aggravates the background soreness of a headache. I ignore it. “You’ve looked through his underwear drawer?”

“It--” Stu cuts himself off with a sigh that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

Our laughing fit ends as Billy stands up. “Where are you going?”

He walks around the bed, barely glancing over at me to answer, “Give me a second.” ...Okay? “Don’t look through my underwear drawer.”

“No promises,” Stu calls after him.

Billy doesn’t react, extending an arm and instinctually half-shutting the door. Stu adjusts, forcing himself to sit up. He’s farther back on the bed than me, but his legs are so long his knees are nearly level with mine. “We’re not really gonna do that are we?”

Stu half laughs-half scoffs, wrinkling his nose and scrunching his eyes together in pretend disgust. “I’m good.” I smile. “We can tell him we did, though.”

“We should also tell him we found something really embarrassing.” Stu raises his eyebrows and I immediately regret it. I scoff, reaching back to smack his arm. “Not like that, I meant like a stuffed animal or something.”

“Don’t you have stuffed animals?”

My posture stiffens, a tiny part of me offended that he’s implying that my children are something I should be embarrassed about. “That’s different.” I frown, thinking of the one stuffed animal that lives on my bed and the few that live around my room. “And you said you liked them.”

Stu never said that, but he has implied it. Nothing crazy, just a few debates between a duck my mom had given me as a child and a bear from my grandparents. He even asked about their names.

He shrugs, turning towards me. His knee taps against mine. “I’m not complaining.” I narrow my eyes, skeptical if this is leading into some kind of joke. “As long as Daisy leaves Blueberry alone.”

I fight down a laugh, because laughing would undo all of the work I’ve put in to convincing him that making up lore about my stuffed animals is something he should stop. “You made that up.”

He tilts his head, “That’s what Daisy wants you to think.”

“I don’t even think you actually remember which one’s Daisy and which one’s Blueberry.”

Stu gasps like I’ve slapped him. “Daisy’s obviously the duck with the--the sweater--blue sweater with daisies--and Blueberry’s the bear in overalls.”

This time, the giggle slips out. I’m still not convinced he’s not making fun of me in some way or setting up for some kind of joke, but the way he grins might make it worth it. “Too easy. Which one’s Jellybean?”

He presses his lips together to demonstrate serious thought. “The...bookshelf one. The bunny with the--the ears.” Stu lifts a hand, using his fingers to try to draw something long and floppy in the air. “The grey one.” I grin. “And the last one’s French Fry, the dog on your desk for good luck.”

“Okay,” I manage reluctantly, a confession pulled out like a tooth, “You did a good job.”

Stu’s smile impossibly widens, reaching forward to wrap an arm around me. “I know my girl.”

I sigh, mumbling a quick, “Not your girl.” Stu ignores me, squeezing me to him a little more confidently. “And you know I don’t actually think French Fry’s lucky anymore, he just lives there.”

He scoffs, “Don’t talk about French Fry like that, babe, all he does is guard your homework.”

I frown, craning my neck to look at him, “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” he breathes the word out in a way that makes it feel like the opposite of what it means.

Some joke about how French Fry’s going to have to start guarding me from him is almost out of my mouth when something creeks. Billy’s opening the door, a glass in his hand. He extends the glass towards me. I take it instinctually, even though I have no idea what the water’s about.

“Drink,” Billy says, already moving to the other side of the bed, “For your head.”

Ah. Not the first time Billy’s blamed an issue on me not drinking enough water. Even though I didn’t ask for anything, the gesture makes my chest feel warm. I take a few long sips. “Thanks.”

Billy nods once, sitting at the edge of the bed. Stu twists himself to make it easier to look at Billy. “You know she just said French Fry’s not lucky.”

“Wow,” Billy shrugs, a distinctly sarcastic lilt to his shock, “That’s blasphemous.”

I roll my eyes before drinking some more water. “I just meant that I’m not like five and that I don’t actually think he can bark away the bad grades.” A barely covered laugh overlaps with the last of my words. I snap my head towards Billy. “What?”

“Bark away the bad grades?” Okay, it sounds dumb now, but when I was younger the thought of doing my homework in the presence of French Fry was comforting. A school counselor recommended him to keep me calm during tests and now he’s just a good omen. “You just--you don’t seem like you were that weird a kid and then you say--”

“I was not weird!” A little defensive for someone that was in the fourth grade with a stress plushy. “I was--I was like one of those kids that was basically an extra excited old person.”

Stu’s arm slips off me as he adjusts the way he’s sitting. “Yeah, that sounds normal.”

Really? After what’s been established about him? “Okay, bug boy.”

He glares, openly offended. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Billy’s interjection tells me that he’s hitting his petty fight limit earlier today than usual. He only tries to preemptively intervene when he’s hitting a specific wall that Stu and I make people realize they have. “Before you guys start fighting like little kids, have you had lunch yet?”

Unless you count a bowl of ice cream that ended up abandoned in my kitchen...

Stu sits up a little more, “Nope.” He turns his head enough to look at me, “What about you, angel?”

I tap my nails against my knee. “Not yet.”

“Wanna go to that pizza place?” Stu offers, already moving towards the edge of the bed to stand.

The thought of food isn’t particularly appealing, but I’ve moved past the stage of panic that made the thought of eating nauseating. What is nauseating is what could happen if I go out in public. Gale Weathers has been nonstop promoting her book. What if someone recognizes me? It was bad enough when the attack first happened and my school was buzzing with journalists...Now things are confirmed and Gale Weathers can’t keep my name out of her mouth.

My grip on the glass of water tightens, “Sure.”

“We can do something else if you want?”

Ugh...a selfish part of me wishes I had it in me to pretend not to hear the hint of uneasiness in Stu’s voice. I could shake my head and say that pizza’s good, blame my hesitance on the beginnings of a migraine and sleep depravation.

“It’s not...” Both of my hands grasp the glass. I press my thumb against the rim with enough tension to leave a red line indented into my skin. “She’s still talking about it and--and I saw some other show doing a segment on it and my name came up like three times in the five minutes that I watched.”

It’s going to take over my life. Slowly but surely, it’ll take more and more. The buzz will die down and the side stares and not-so-mumbled comments will stop, because they did before. But then the book will come out and it will start again, and by the time it stops being super relevant it’ll be linked to my identity. Colleges will see it, any job that requires a background check will find it in seconds, and all it takes is for one person to find out and then it’s everywhere.

What if I get into a great school and start making friends and then one person realizes they’ve seen my name before or looks into Gale’s career for whatever reason and then suddenly it’s everywhere? It’ll cling to me like a shadow, the label of victim the kind one and the conspiracy theorists...

“You don’t have to put up with it.” Billy’s voice is low, almost unfeeling. I don’t get what he’s saying. Billy understands my question before I can ask. “The Gale thing--if she wants to use your name every two seconds to promote her book, you should let her know you’re not okay with it. Don’t make it easy for her, you’re not helpless.”

The sharpness in his tone doesn’t feel aggressive, it’s urging. Honest. “Sorry, that was--”

“Don’t be sorry.” I mean it. The directness and the lack of coddling forced me out of my the-world-is-ending spiral. My mom’s trying to track Gale Weathers down logically, but with someone that doesn’t mind playing underhanded to get what she wants, you have to work the same way. She ambushes people all the time. “I think I needed to hear it.”

Gale’s office is probably in a public directory, and if it’s not, she’ll probably try to find me at school. There’ll be a chance to tell her off, a chance to stop her. Or at least, to get her to stop mentioning me like I’m a tagline.

“We’ll take her down,” Stu encourages, gently bumping his fist against my arm, “After food.” He stands up, the bed shifting beneath his weight. “C’mon, if anyone looks at you, I’ll beat ‘em up.”

I roll my eyes, letting Stu pull on my free hand until I stand up. “You offer to do that a lot. I think you just want to beat someone up.”

“Nah, if I did, I’d just punch Billy.”

Billy lets out an exhausted sigh as he stands. “Seriously?”

“What? I’d say I’d punch her, but she scares me a little.” Considering how often Stu and I do fight each other, I really doubt it. “She fights dirty.”

“Yeah.” Billy’s agreement comes out suspiciously fast as he opens the door. “I’ve seen her kick your ass.”

----

a/n billy and stu when someone else takes advantage of y/n’s trauma: 🤯🤬

also next chapter should be a lot messier hehehe

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#scream #scream x reader #scream 1966 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #Poly! Ghostface x Reader #finagl girl fic

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bi-bard · 1 year

Text

Such Careful Words That We Can Barely Speak Out Loud - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: Such Careful Words That We Can Barely Speak Out Loud

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Reader

Based On: The Sea of Atlas

Word Count: 804 words

Warning(s): brief mention of a shit family, Kaz is emotionally unavailable

Summary: The Crows return from their latest job. With Kaz back in Ketterdam, (Y/n) sees no better time for them to discuss what had happened before he left.

Author's Note: This took far too fucking long.

Part One of "June" [Release Date: 7/3/2023]

Part Two of "June" [Release Date: 7/5/2023]

YEARBOOK - SLEEPING AT LAST WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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I had no true way of knowing when the rest of the Crows were coming back.

I didn't think about that until after Kaz had run out of my home after kissing me. I could have gone days or weeks without getting to have a conversation about the moment between us. Or, worst case scenario, I never got to see him or the other Crows again because the job went completely wrong. And I would never know about it. I would just be left entirely alone with no answers.

I would never fully shake that feeling until there was a knock on my door.

For the third time, Kaz had found his way to my doorstep. Yet this time felt so incredibly different that it felt like the first time.

"Hi," I said. I had a million thoughts going through my head at the time, but that was all that I could get out at the time.

"Hi," he replied. I wondered if he was in the same place as me.

I stepped to the side and let him walk inside. I scanned my eyes along him as he passed. I was expecting more obvious bruises and wounds. They could possibly be hidden by his suit.

"The job went well," he explained without me asking. "Everyone is safe."

I nodded. "Good."

He said that for my sake. He knew my propensity for worrying excessively.

"Did you meet my family?"

"Briefly," he nodded. "When we first walked in, your uncle was greeting the guests. He made sure that he was well known."

I took a deep breath.

"I didn't make myself known," he added. "For your sake."

"What happened to vengeance in my honor?"

"I was prepared to kill him," Kaz confessed. "But I realized that such an act was for you to choose. I had no right to take that from you."

"I see."

"I did find something." he reached into his pocket. When he held out his hand again, there was a brooch sitting in his palm. "There was a room that didn't look like it had been changed in years. I assumed..."

I reached out and took the brooch. "It was my brother's."

"I thought that it would be sufficient for the time being."

I grinned. "Thank you."

He nodded his head once. "I should go-"

"I'd rather you didn't," I stopped him. "We... We need to talk about what happened, Kaz."

He inhaled sharply.

"I can't go back to what we were... I can't pretend that nothing happened."

His eyes left mine, but he made no move to leave at all. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to be able to hear whatever fear was going through his head. I wanted to know what he was worried about. Because I knew that my mind was riddled with those fears.

"I care about you," I continued, trying to ignore the terrified feeling filling my stomach. "Greatly. I have for a very long time. And I... I am terrified of how I feel about you. I just know that there is every possibility that I will go mad if I ignore it any longer.

"I don't know what you want or how you feel or if that kiss meant anything to you at all. I just... I need to know where we are now."

I glanced down and saw his hand adjust on the top of his cane.

I had spent the last few days thinking about this event. I thought of every single way that this could happen. I thought about what would happen if he ran away again, if he just never showed up, if he told me that he felt the same way as me. It had all played through my head. Some part of me thought that having that mental image would help me more in the long run. It didn't. I was still just as scared as I had been the day that he had stormed out.

I sat in that silence with Kaz until I felt my eyes burning and as if my lungs were struggling to take in air. "I'm sorry. You can go-"

"I do care for you," he cut me off. It was quiet, so full of fear that I could feel the weight sitting on his shoulders. "More than I can explain."

It was ten words. I had heard him say more about a job. And yet, it was easily the most vulnerable I had ever seen him.

I felt a grin forming on my lips. I didn't need anything more from him. That was enough for me. I was certain that we would find more words in time.

And I was right.

All that was needed was for us to be incredibly careful about which words we chose.

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#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader

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ganondoodle · 10 months

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since seeing a post from a mutual yesterday i was thinking about how grateful i am that i can now, confidently say something like -im taking demise away from nintendo- or -hes MY character now- while knowing that the people following me will understand that thats not actually possible and also i dont mean that literally literally (duh)

bc (while i have mentioned it in the past and im not trying to fish for sympathy with this, the memories ... and trauma really does come back every now and then) there were people once that imagined i said that about a popular character in the fandom i was in when i was a teen and proceeded to try (and nearly succeeding bc i was already struggeling alot with depression, anxiety and undiagnosed autism) to bully me into killing myself; perhaps it wasnt their actual goal, but the shit they did (alot of them were adults too), was absolutely insane, but i've only been able to see that wayyyy after the fact

like even if im remembering wrong and i did word it wrong or weird or in a way that was easily misunderstood, i was a teen, with english not as my first language and it still was some fandom shit that ultimately did not matter and never in any scenario warrented that level of harrassment, i dont even think i ever told my parents bc i thought i had to deal with it alone since i 'caused' it too and since then just ... wanting to forget it ever happened

while i am much, much better now, and slowly learning to manage my mental health struggles too, i do wonder just .. how much of how i am today was shaped by that horrible experience, like the way i overly try to pre-apologize and put doubts on every thought i write out, or the panic i feel when something does go outside my usual range (mostly twitter really ..) was immensely worsened by that .. among stuff i probably dont even realize

funnily enough, i made my account on tumblr to try and flee from all that was happening to me (even if they did stalk me at first .. even here) and hey, im still here :D

i guess what im trying to say is, i am very happy to still be here, i am grateful to be able to be myself, even with its downsides, even with my problems, even if the things i do are passable at best, even if i will never "make it big", even if i am annoying at times, even if i do mistakes still, even if i am .... horribly bad at replying to the awesome people that message me-

there are, at least a few people, who enjoy, or even care, or heck, even think about what i draw and write, which is .. still mind boggling to me and i might never be able to truly believe its all real, there are people who are able to see beyond my flaws, forgive me if i do missstep or overreact, and just be aware that even with everything i share about me, there is lots you dont know that may inform why i feel a certain way about something, but thats okay, i am human, i am here, there are people who enjoy my brainworms, and perhaps even think i, as a person, am nice

i am so grateful for that

some things are good

#ganondoodles talks #random #tw suicide mention #again i realyl dont mean to try and bait for sympathy or sth #but some things do remind me of these awful things #and remind me also how far i got #even if it ultimately doesnt matter #it matters to me #and it might matter to you #and that it matters to you matters to me #thank you #i almost replied in a jokey way about this to the mutuals post in question #but then wondered if perhaps that would be a little much #but then i kept thinking about this #and well #its late again and it suddendly all came back #so i had to write a little #also fuck deviantart #no further context needed in these shitty times

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anemptypuddingcup · 1 year

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EEEE Bae!! Okay, lemme get myself straight....*inhales dilf*

OKAY!!! First off, congrats on the 900!!!!! <3 I also wish to reach that milestone soon!!! >:)

Now for my requests....get ready.....ooooh it's gonna be hot......

May I have Kaku + Kink! Spanking? (god I'm a sucker for this kink) A possible scenario is like where fem! reader is always being rude to other ppl and him being the "nice" guy teaches her to get her act together? 🫣

The other one would be Sabo + Kink! Gloves (perfect for him😳) I'm not so sure about the scenerio here...so I'll leave it up to your creative mind!

Thank youuu >:) 💕

Omggg, you lucky I’m so excited baby girl. I was bouta continue writing the Luffy fic but I just HAD to answer your submission first. Dw you’ll get that Luffyussy soon baby.

And thank youuuu love! I’m happy that I’ve gotten this far, and just so you know I’ll support you all the way when you reach that milestone and higher. I love you stephie.💕

Kaku & Spanking.

“How many times have I told you to stop dressing like that!” Paulie huffs before he covers his face, flustered from you showing skin. You pout and huff at him before crossing your arms. “You do this every time I come up here, how bout you stop looking at me perv!” You say, gripping Paulie’s shirt collar and staring him deep in the eyes.

Paulie sighs as you walk away past him and Kaku. Before you could fully walk past Kaku, he grabs your wrist and stops you from walking away from him. You turn to him, your brows furrowed as you struggled to pull your hand away. “K-Kaku! Let go of me!” You demanded. Instead of listening, he throws you over his shoulder, shocking both you and Paulie.

“Kaku!-“

“I’ve just about had it with you and your slutty behavior woman, Califa doesn’t even act like this.” Kaku huffs.

***

“MMGH! A-AH!~” You bit your bottom lip hard as you feel Kaku’s palm hit your ass with intensity, drool spilling from your lips as you felt your ass beginning to sting from his hits. “Keep counting or we’re restarting.” Kaku demands, giving you a dark glare. Your body shivers under him before he hits you against.

“I-I-I lost c-count!~” You whined, turning back to him. You hear him chuckle before he slaps your ass again, this time a bit harder than all the others. You whine out as your body begins to shudder against his lap as you feel your cunt fluttering around nothing, your heat spilling down your thighs and legs.

“Fine by me then, we’ll just restart. If you lose count again we’ll keep restarting until you can learn to count like a good little girl.”

You let out a heavy whine as you squirm around on his lap, not wanting to admit to yourself how much you were enjoying this.

Sabo & Gloves.

Sabo presses a kiss to your ear as your body trembled against his. Your legs were spread open for while his gloved fingers were buried deep inside of your aching hole. “You like this, angel? Does it feel good when the fabric is inside this pretty pussy?” Sabo asks, whispering the words into your ear.

You exhaled shakily before nodding, throwing your head back as he shoved his fingers hard against your g-spot. “Y-Yes!~ I-It feels good Sabooo~” You admit, your voices shaky as you moan out in pleasure. Sabo chuckles as he notices your slick coating and staining his gloves.

“I know it feels good~ Your pussy’s clinging to my fingers. With your tight grip you might just pull the glove off angel~” He giggles before pressing a kiss to your neck. Your legs begin to tremble as you feel Sabo’s gloved palm rub against your clit, adding on to the pleasure.

You feel his other gloves hand grope your breast as a gloved finger swirls around your hardened bud, the fabric of the glove feeling wonderful against your nipple. “Ahh~ Sabo~ S-Sabo p-please~” You thrust your hips up against Sabo’s fingers, wanting him to fuck you just a little bit faster with them.

Sabo moves in closer to you. “Please what angel? Use your words for me baby~” He says, teasing you. “P-Please move your fingers faster~ I-I’m so close!~” You whine out, biting your bottom lip. Sabo giggles.

“As you wish, my little angel~”

#Mari’s 900 Surprise!#one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece kaku #op kaku #kaku smut #kaku fluff #one piece sabo #op sabo #sabo smut #sabo fluff #love you stephieee #puddingcupanswers

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wayfayrr · 1 year

Note

Hi! I saw your requests are open and I read what you posted about fem!reader with piercings, and I wanted to request fem!reader but with lots of tattoos, maybe a full on sleeve tattoo on one or both arms in chain’s world if that’s ok (´･ᴗ･`)

It can be with anyone you want, whether it’s someone you’ve been wanting to write about, or whoever would give you the most motivation, or whoever you think would be the most interesting to do in this scenario, have fun with this ♡︎

That's very okay anon!! Ngl you actually scared me with the timing of this ask though, I was literally talking to a coworker about how I've always been considering a sleeve then I saw your ask just a bit later JSVNJODN!! But this was really self-indulgent in the end! the tattoos reader has are only loosely described If anyone wants to know what I was picturing as I wrote feel free to ask I'm happy to share!!! I ended up writing for Sky since he's my favourite! I hope you like it!!

“You and I are sharing a room tonight then, my dove? I can’t believe they’ve let me have you all to myself like this. It’s the perfect chance for you to show me some more of your music…”

That incident earlier seems to have given Sky far more confidence around me now, not that I’m saying that I don’t like how much more touchy he’s gotten, it’s far from that. Sky having more confidence to act how he wants around me rather than how he thinks he should act or like he’s trying to keep me at arm's length feels wonderful. Even if he is still teasing me about it. His laugh when he’s not holding back at all is still one of the most beautiful sounds, and I truly doubt it’ll ever stop being one.

“Yeah, maybe I can use the chance to show you some decent things, first though I’d rather get into something more comfortable and settle.”

“I’m looking forward to it dear, if you’d prefer you can go in now and change while I change somewhere else?”

“Thanks Sky, I’ll see you back here in a second then.”

It’s only fair I tease him back with a kiss, what if he’s going to be so confident with how he holds me most of the time now it’s only fair that I can be more confident as well. Sky didn’t take long either, coming back just as I finished changing, no doubt faster due to being more used to how these clothes just are. And he’s staring at me, Oh right! He’s not seen my tattoo before. He’s got every right to be curious, given I’ve never mentioned it before. The feeling of his hand hovering right over my arm almost feels near intoxicating, he’s so gentle like he’s afraid to do something wrong.

“Dearest would you mind if I..?”

“I don’t, I um well I should’ve told you a bit earlier shouldn’t I.”

“No! I mean, no I’m glad that I found out like this.”

He’s completely enamoured with the biggest tattoo I have, the one on my left arm. Tracing the lines so tenderly, like he’s scared of being overindulgent in giving me attention. It’s almost taunting how softly affectionate he’s being even just for this one, like he thinks I deserve to be treated with the same tenderness as someone would a piece of art within a gallery. Is he going to be like this with all of them?

“It means I get to appreciate your beauty without anyone interrupting, and I don’t think I could bear to share your attention right now.”

“T-thanks Sky. I swear if it wasn’t for the fact I can’t stay in Hyrule I would’ve already asked you to date me.”

“Why should that stop you dearest?”

“Well because I don’t want to cause you any pain when I have to leave, I can’t bring myself to be the one causing you that pain.”

The way his hands tensed around my arms as I said that, along with the face that he pulled? Sky doesn’t seem all that infatuated with the idea that I could leave him, not that I want to, not that I have the choice. His grip loosened quickly though, him pulling me into a gentle hug instead with a whine. Still obsessing over my tattoos at the same time, but with his focus changing from my sleeve to the band on my right instead although now his touch feels more like he’s trying to ground himself. Ironic really.

“Why would you assume I wouldn’t follow you? I couldn’t handle you leaving if I were courting you or not. Not now.”

“I can’t ask that of you Sky, you’re too important to the future of Hyrule.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t asking. It’s my choice.”

#Currently trying to work up the courage to just get one even if it's small for now TT #links✦react #linked universe x reader #lu sky #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #moss✦answers #moss✦writes

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sugar-grigri · 1 year

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Hi there! Hope you are having a nice day! I really love your csm analyses and meta! It's specially great because I don't understand literary symbolism at all, I'm learning a lot. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on my boy Yoshida. What do you think is his role? Is he only an obstacle for the romantic relationship between Denji and Asa? In a world where every detail has a deeper meaning, why an octopus? Hope you have a great day!

The octopus trap

I think that if I asked every Chainsaw Man reader about Yoshida, most of the time I'd be told either "I have no idea what he's going to do" or, more precisely, "I keep expecting him to do something, but he doesn't end up doing anything".

You mustn't let your hair stand on end when you read remarks like that. Yoshida is my favorite character of Part 2, yet if I were to describe him succinctly it would be in exactly those terms.

When I say not to be annoyed by these remarks, it's because they're not the result of a lack of writing, a lack of development or even a depreciation of the character, these descriptions only underline the originality of Yoshida's writing.

Yes, it's surely worth clarifying what I mean by all this...

Let's take a look at things chronologically. Yoshida's first appearance comes just after Asa, who has just discovered she's possessed by the war demon, is unable to set foot inside her school, a victim of anxiety, school phobia and, above all, Bucky's death.

Yoshida suddenly appears during this scene. He is also quickly associated with Asa, as the demon-hunting club puts him in Yuko's and the protagonist's group. We all said to ourselves: great, something's going to happen between these two! She's dying of shame, so Fujimoto is bound to use this to create more interaction between them.

When Asa comes across her bullies, who have attacked her locker and shoes, only Yuko comes to comfort her, and Yoshida simply fades into the background. It's strange, because it was as if he had brutally hidden himself from the progress of the scenario and the reaction he might have had to this kind of situation. Keep this in mind.

Then Yoshida reappears in chapter 103, as if Fujimoto were accidentally placing an ink blot in the background, Yoshida simply blending into the background until he hits his target. For the reader, this creates a certain "ah yes, where the hell has he been?" situation, and the element of surprise is intensified by the fact that this is Denji's first appearance as a human in Part 2. This time, Yoshida doesn't disappear into the background, as if evaporated, he appears when no one was expecting him.

Put that in the back of your mind too.

Then, when he tries to put Denji's goal of a girlfriend into action, he introduces him to Asa Mitaka, whom we suspect, subconsciously or consciously, to be Chainsaw Man's love interest. So we're all thinking (myself included at this point), he's surely going to be the magnet between the two! Which turns out to be completely untrue, as Yoshida brutally declares that Asa has no business getting close to Denji.

This point not only shows that Yoshida's narrative function is hard to pin down, it also proves something else: he's not omniscient. He's not, as I've read, this absolutely perfect string-puller, since it's clear that he doesn't grasp until later that Asa may not simply be a young girl obsessed with finding a boyfriend, but a possessed one who might disturb the target he's watching: Chainsaw Man.

The aquarium was Yoshida's observation ground. Yoshida has no desire to be active, as evidenced by the telephone scene where, after Asa has been humiliated by his failure to call anyone, he shows Denji his phone, arguing that he can't get a signal anyway. Now I'll get to that line : "Do you think CSM would eat it for us ? The Death devil"

Whether it was making you believe that Yoshida is a genius string-puller, this line made you believe that the boy had something to do with the demon of death. Fujimoto wouldn't ruin so many mysteries surrounding one of the most anticipated demons so unskillfully. That's why it's necessary to interpret it differently. A line belongs to a whole, and this scene between Yoshida and Denji is not a scene that escapes its whole, on the contrary, it has consequences.

It serves to show two things: firstly, Yoshida is aware of Chainsaw Man's ability to erase other demons, which was surely reported by Kishibe who learned of it in chapter 84, proving firstly that the public hunters are now aware of this ability. Something that had never been said before. Then we come to the most interesting part. Yoshida makes it clear in this scene that they've been locked up for three days, and the cases illustrate how each of the students is dealing with their own mortality, with Haruka crying, Nobana flips out, another prefers to be physically active to keep himself busy, while Yoshida prepares to die. As for Denji, he's been through worse, and is cooler than the others.

Then Yoshida pointed out, "Do you think Chainsaw Man would eat the demon of death?" This triggers Denji's act of kindness, as he realizes that he can also "suppress", "devour" fears in his human form, by taking action. Denji has noticed that Asa is looking to be active; she's the one who offered her a date, so she's the one who has priority to receive comfort, so Denji comes to devour the fear that paralyzed the protagonist. All the more ironic given that the demon they were all really facing was the demon of famine.

I know everything I'm saying sounds disjointed at the moment, but hang on, I need to be a bit descriptive before I connect all this.

The same phenomenon of script feinting will occur, not to make it look like Yoshida will be a love rival, a friend of Asa, the magnet between Denji and Asa, or the demon of death.

No, this time, in chapter 133, Fujimoto makes it look like Yoshida will be a great antagonist by proposing Denji's horrible dilemma of either being human and living with his family or being Chainsaw Man without it. But it all falls apart when he realizes that Denji chooses both, leaving Yoshida completely out of his depth. This time Fujimoto erases all the mystique around this character, he's not the player who moves the pieces against Fami, he's just a mediator.

The same phenomenon occurs when he locks Denji into this normal life that doesn't suit him, placing him in Fumiko's hands, leading to one of the least "normal" chapters, chapter 137.

I think that with all this, you're beginning to grasp a certain idea: Yoshida's purpose is a narrative feint, he's a character with indecipherable eyes for us to place all our doubts and mysteries in. The questions just pile up, and we project them through Yoshida, who answers none of them.

So who is Yoshida ?

The only thing I can say is that he's a mystery. And when I say this, it's not to clear my name, as nothing can be said about him, because he is written as such and should be appreciated as such. I often read that his eyes, fully black like Kishibe's, are not only perhaps a sign of kinship but also a sign of deep despair. I think it's precisely in this way that we can miss the originality of these characters.

Kishibe is not placed in the deepest despair, what makes him so strong, what makes him still here, being practically the only veteran of the public hunters (did you notice how young the public hunters still were?), is that he has accepted and internalized the madness of the system, bows to it instead of fighting against it, but is not dominated by it as someone unreasonable would be.

Whether it's Yoshida's black eyes or Kishibe's, the latter are simply the eyes of acceptance of the system. That is to say, their pupils are no longer illuminated by that little personal glimmer, seemingly devoid of emotion, since they are simply a reflection of the darkness of the system, of what's going on through them.

Yoshida's eyes are the eyes of a mysterious system that constantly stares at the characters without responding to them.

And now you're probably wondering, Anon:

What about the octopus ?

This is surely the most interesting answer to Yoshida's question.

When you're looking for meanings for octopuses, your first instinct is to think of mythology, isn't it? Leviathan, Kranken, Akkorokamui, the octopus is the subject of a multitude of legends, whose interpretations are intertwined, creative, healing or destructive, beneficent or maleficent, or even the subject of great divergence from the public, cute? Or monstrous?

This follows on from the previous statement: the octopus is a being onto which all concepts can be projected, even if they are contradictory. Yoshida's narrative function is the same: we project whatever we can onto him without him acting on it.

What's the one piece of information you could give me with any certainty? The fact that he's a demon hunter, right? In other words, the only thing you could say about the octopus is the environment it lives in? No ?

Do you know how octopuses are caught ?

Have you heard of the Japanese octopus trap? Specifically, the takotsubo? In fact, they're not really traps at all, but a form of passive fishing in which simple pierced stones or clay pots are placed on the seabed. The octopuses then enter these pots to protect themselves, using them as shelters to protect their fragile bodies. Above all, when the pots are brought to the surface, the octopuses don't even try to escape, pressing themselves against the walls.

Yoshida acts like these octopuses, not fighting the system, but rather embracing its walls, thinking he's safe when in fact he's trapped.

Hidden within this obscure system, the octopus has no idea that it's not safe, but has headed for its own destruction.

Now the connections make themselves. The only answer those big black eyes can give is a reflection of the system.

Asa is rejected by her classmates, by this micro-society that is school? The system appears.

Fans cheer Chainsaw Man on, as society is increasingly forged around him. The system takes an interest and invites him for coffee.

As Asa is rejected after her second date with Denji, the system will only add to her loneliness.

Chainsaw Man is a being whose function is to eliminate fears? The system will remind him of this.

Is Chainsaw Man an idiot? Will the system still try to control him, even if it means inhibiting him?

What if we were to use the metaphor of the octopus trap to provide the opposite answer ? Yoshida sticks to the walls of the system.

What does the system do? It weaves itself around Chainsaw Man.

Is this such a good idea ?

#chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #yoshida hirofumi #yoshida #my thoughts #csm spoilers #denji #asa #haruka #habana #yoru #yuko #ask

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dangitjm · 5 months

Text

Let's talk about identity for a bit; I saw this tweet that made me think--

Over the past decade and a half, I've been consistently creating, writing, and having commissions done for wlw and mlm relationships. For most of my life, I had never done enough introspection as to why I always seem to think about these fictional scenarios as often as I did. The first real catalyst for me starting my journey into deciphering my own identity started when I figured out I was bi about a decade ago...

When I (a male) first realized that I had fallen in love with another man, I did not feel shame. I did not feel fear. I only felt what I could only describe to be "euphoria." It was an entire eureka moment for my life. This peeled back so many inconsistencies that I had learned from religious institutions and cyclic familial biases. This made me want to build more bridges with other folk, understand where others were coming from, and I became such a dramatically different person from my teens as a result. That was a decade ago.

Since then, I've continued to create and write about queer people, queer relationships, queer aspirations and ideals. Heading into the 2020s, the concept of being trans became more and more visible in and around my life. And it's been even more recently that I've started to articulate my queer preferences with my own identity. To say that being trans 'crossed my mind' would be an understatement.

I've done the research, I've chatted with trans friends, I've sat and listened to various stories from other individuals, and I would even attempt at great lengths to envision myself as a woman. Yet, I still didn't feel a eureka moment--not a 'click' that made sense. If anything, there was an absence of feeling. This was a strong contrast to when I found out that I was bi so long ago.

What most transfolk have told me was that "body dysphoria" was a key part of the trans experience (and any of y'all can speak up on your experiences as well). It's been described as distress, unease, and a complete unhappiness with how one looks--when they look into the mirror and what they see. It's something much more innate, more intrinsic to a person's being, than many who aren't trans may realize. And yet, I don't think I've felt this. At least, what I have felt is something I haven't quite found the right words for yet.

A trans friend put it into perspective when they talked about "body euphoria" or finding a certain look or identity that gives you validation/confidence/pride in oneself.

In fact, many years ago, a childhood friend drew a female version of my entire friend group, and it got me thinking--

"Wow! I look cute!" I thought.

"Wait... do I want to be cute?" And suddenly, silence.

The more I contemplate this silence in my head, the more a growing part of me wants to rip out the--sometimes literal, sometimes abstract--constraints that bind down gender identity by its roots. That, or fully leave them behind to find something *else*. Something *other*.

Because, see, I've felt this 'euphoria' some days; letting my hair grow out long, then getting my hair cut, sometimes with facial hair, sometimes fully shaved, I like putting on a suit and being sleek and slim, and other times I might wear nothing at all and simply absorb what I was, skin and all. I compare what I look like, what feels good to me, to what broader society or culture might idealize--perpetuate--in a man and in a woman, and something doesn't connect. Let me clarify, there are things about both genders that excite me, get my blood pumping (this is the bisexual talking), but the qualities that I might like and adore in 'others' are still not quite 'me.' As it stands, that 'euphoria' is a mysterious beast that has continued to elude me.

But who knows. One day, it might all make sense to me, and you will see me as a fully realized man or woman or something else. Something *other*. Until then--

Is this what it feels to be "nonbinary?" If so, this is where I will stay. For now.

#nonbinary #trans #bisexual #lgbtq #dangitjm #blog #identity questioning

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private-kitty · 8 months

Text

✨Hogwarts Legacy✨ fandom, i need your light.

Tell me if i am right into your "imagine" stuff

If i am correct, when you imagine a situation with Sebastian and Ominis, what i read is:

You always imagine Mc and Sebastian arguing and fighting and Ominis is the one who is comforting Mc.

Sebastian is swearing and Ominis is always polite.

Sebastian is a bad student who doesn't understand a thing and doesn't do his homework and Ominis is an exemplary person that says that Sebastian is an idiot all the time.

Ominis is kind and Sebastian is rough

Sebastian talk badly about others and Ominis doesn't like that

Sebastian is jealous and Ominis doesn't really care because he trusts you.

Sebastian is a dirty talker and Ominis is a sweetheart in bed

Basically, Sebastian is a red flag and Ominis a green

one

And blablabla and blablabla

Am i right ?

Well, let me introduce myself, i am the one who always see in people what other has missed and i like to establish the truth about a lot of characters. And today, my dears, you are the target.

And do not come to me like "this is just an imagine, we do what we want blablabla" because no. I am talking for everyone who doesn't feel right reading this stuff about their favourite characters because it is NOT them. We do not recognise their behaviour or their talks. Actually you CAN write what you want but keep in mind that you are writing an OC based or inspired by this or that character. It is not the actual character.

Let me tell you, at this point i am not sure anymore if we all played the same game or not.

Sebastian is a character that is introduced to our character because the teachers themselves think he is a good start to know things about the school. Little reminder that when Ominis was all by himself in Hogwarts, it was Sebastian and Anne who took him with them without any judgement about him and his family.

Teachers trust him. He is a good student, known for his good grades (being cocky # being a bad person

Ominis said a multiple times that he doesn't understand the lessons (that he must have bought a potion to pretend it was his work) he always complains when we must go to class etc etc...

Sebastian is known to be the best at dueling and we came in and beat him after all this time. Everyone is arrogant about this situation (im talking mostly about you Leander) everyone but the one concerned, Sebastian. He is proud of you, congrats you about your job. He is humble.

Ominis didn't even introduce himself that he is already talking to us with an arrogant manner about how we could never beat Sebastian as... us. Judging our capacities based on... nothing

Sebastian reads a LOT which means that he is a high cultured person. Definitely not an idiot.

Ominis sleep on the floor.

The first time we spends with Sebastian, Peeves was there and saw us which means there is a witness. Sebastian could have worse if they found out he lied but he protected us without knowing each others. He is someone that can be trusted. (Reminder that i am talking about the character’s behaviour before dark magic)

We follow a boy during his desperate era. Which means that without this situation, none of what we've been through would have happened. Everything around him, put him into a desperate, needing, scared and stressful time and with all that we are aware that he will not be into his normal behaviour. Everyone is quite abandoning the situation about Anne (no one talk about her in Hogwarts when she apparently was a student known by everyone) Touching dark magic will change him at some point. Even the scenario told us the answer when multiple times, characters like Ominis or Anne will say " do not recognise him", "he is not like usual", what's happening to him?" This is NOT Sebastian, this is the dark magic that he is using into a dark time for him that turned him into a craziness hole.

Beginning of the game : Ominis used and saw dark magic all of his childhood and use his memories to joke around to threats other students with it, pretending he can do it on them.

End of the game: it was all pretending and he is terrifying by dark magic so when his best friend finally used it, he is frightened

The only time Seb felt betrayed by us, (the one and only moment into the undercroft) let me tell you once again: he felt BETRAYED by us and he didn't even shouted at us, he didn't even pushed it too far and if you feel bad because someone tells you, you are ignorant, well... This is not a big bad word right here... and this is actually how he felt. "Your ignorance about the situation made you do something you shouldn't have" (this is his thoughts) he didn't say that to hurt you. And guess what? He even apologised with a letter after (are you telling me that in your life you never argued with anyone because you are never upset by anything ?)

The first time we had a real encounter with Ominis, he shouted at us for nothing really important and using his family to scared you. Menacing us about how he can kick us out of the school (reminder : for nothing) And NEVER apologise even after knowing MC more and why we are here.

And Anne, ladies and gentlemen. Anne. Isn't she the proof that Sebastian would do anything for the one he loves. Always there for them, to cherish and protect them. Even we he is not close to someone, he is known to be a cool guy, cocky but not mean, chill and good with magic.

Ominis is known to do harassment on some students. Always talking to them with an arrogant attitude and insulting them. One of them is so scared that he asked our MC for help.

Sebastian always complain about tense situations when people are too strict or severe. Being rough is not is nature.

Ominis is always arguing or mocking everyone. Being rough does not bother him. Perhaps not in manner but with his words for sure.

Let's not forget about "talking sh*t on people's back" or (i don't like that terms so l'm going to change it) only "talking about my private life"

Sebastian is "abused" by his uncle (way before Anne's curse and no one knows about it. Some even are shocked when they found out, Sebastian was living into a little cottage. Sebastian never talk about others or even himself.

Ominis can be found around Hogwarts chatting about how his family is awful, how he hate them and how his sisters are annoying etc etc...

I am going to stop here. Because i can go on and on and on. But it was the more crucial points. Be sure about that: i love both of them. But i love them for who they really are and who they becomes. Not for a fantasy out of nowhere.

As i said in the beginning of my text. If you want to write what you like about the characters, keep in mind that this is an OC and not an "imagine".

Love

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #hogwarts oc #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts fanfiction #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #hogwarts sebastian sallow #hogwarts boys #fanfiction #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fandom

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nwarrior777 · 2 months

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Hello! I wanted to say that I have been in love with your art for some years now and kinda think of you as a teacher when it comes to self-love and drawing/generally showing fat people in media! So I'm seeking your advice on this topic if that doesn't bother you... (tw fatphobia from people)

There is one fandom character who I love and accociate myself with a bit, so I really want to draw them fat, but most of the people think it's "not logical" for him to be fat, and all of the fanart of him are thin (despite the original book never stating this). And this fandom already has another character for who it's more "logical" to be fat but I want that specific one because he is so dear to me. I also want to cosplay this character but people told me I'm "too fat" to do it :( So I want to hear your opinion about this because it's very important to me!

Oh hello!

Big honor to hear such a thing about teacher! And very big letter, oh! Always happy to get it. But it is big responsibility to answer on that!

And oh i wrote a whole poem so i put it under the cut.

So first thing first, very important thing i want to say (it's like, in general) - please don't idolize me and don't put on pedestal.

Don't treat me like biggest authority - but like a soldier next to you in battle. It needed, for if you for some reason will find me not pleasant as a person, my words which describes my, very not individual, believes, would not be sticked to me as individual in your mind. Believes (about we need to strive to world of care, comfort and kindness in all aspects of life) which i belong to is much more than me. And i am just a human. Who can do mistakes, who can have opinions which you like next to some you disagree. I am sorry for being too poetic (i just went off from writing poem session) but i love line from Aurora song "you can give up on me, [but] never give up on Love", yeah, this line describes that i am trying to say perfectly. I hope you got the idea.

To the point!

So, of course i want to say that, "logical" fat character is an outdated thing of mindset, of course i am all in and routing for you in this desire to draw and cosplay character you like as fat. I mean? For people passing by not knowing context - i am the guy who draws fat only characters for near a decade. In any scenario and plot, in my drawings they are all fat (well in 0.00000000001% character on my art is skinny. and it's usually someone near fat character). It's like i am a little reversed tv - any type of shows but all characters are fat. Why? - because in big tv (mass media) there is * no * fat characters. Ok, they are sometimes are but it's 0.00000000001% chance and you all know how creators treat them. And i choosed it as my art goal to shift the balance and bring people art where they recognize themselves, drawn in a gorgeous way, and feel happy.

But here is the thing: experience and surroundings of each is different. I can't just shout "yeah, go go show your pride don't be scared and shy!" to someone who surrounded by things which take this someone caged, and someone who still breaking cages in their mind. So it is a little complicated. I am all in, i think your drawings of this character is gorgeous and your cosplay is gorgeous and you are gorgeous (i didn't see you or your art, but i don't need it to say this). But i can't guarantee that others reaction will be positive-only (considering someone already being rude about cosplay) But i have thought on this too

If to look on my experience, as something that can be. Shared, I can share a bit of my "secrets" of being so free. at least by mind and art.

First - i have very specific mindset which i worked very hard very long time. I have my main values and everything in my life i judge by this. The core of this is thought, ( VERY simplified version. i am rotating this since my idk, 16, i am 27, it * is * more complicated than that) - "does it hurt anyone? no? good. other things are bad".

That guy wears dress. Anyone hurt? No. Good then

That guy is gay. Anyone would be hurt by their wedding? No. Good.

Painting of a flower which drawn """ugly""" or """ unskillfull""" by a person who hold pen first time? Give it to me it will be on my wall, it's cool drawing

millions money wasted on expedition to take away real iceberg getting it on town square only for it to melt to say "hey it was performance about climate change. did you know icebergs are melting?" - bad bad bad i would slap that dude in the face. i mean melting iceberg to say about problem of melting icebergs? could you just make an ice sculpture from dirty water in a shape of a globe or smth, pretentious fuсker-

So yes. I have strong moral core in mindset. I went through big journey of self body acception and now i am in full love of my body. I deep dived into disability side of insta blogers, and never honestly been on conservative beauty blogers side of internet. i see so much different people now, it completely vanished my if existed, fear, in terms of looks (i mean some experiences can be struggling and painfull which a bit of hard to deal with in my life context, but, we are about appearance here) - burns, amputations, whatever, all people beautifull for me no matter how they look. Including me.

Also i was very soon went into friendly (queer mostly) places, and my friends are kind people. I was growing in era of bodypositive getting popularity and people got on two sides - i went into bodypositive one and mostly i was around people who would never used "fat" as assoult.

But there was negative. Comments, someone even could write me in DM. Sometimes, at first i think i even cried, but then i remember some comments and one dm which i just laugh at. My friends were supporting me, and, the artist which was sort of first in my place in my location, who got even more hate, was on same side so i just. I don't know why i kept going. But i know why i still do - i wrote above

So it leads me to the point where i am: I am super confident in that i do. I know it is right thing - for me one smile, one "omg i never seen myself in art and this is literally me" is bigger than all hate i can get. I know that representative art do not harm but spread Love and comfort, and hateful comments hurt, so i know who is right here. I am confident about my body - i know that i can't cause harm by the way i look, rude comments - can, so i am again know exactly who is right. I don't pay attention for haters - people who lives driven by hate are so behind, that i just don't notice their echoes. Because i am too busy living in the world of Love, being with people who i like, complimenting each other and creating beautifull things of Care with people who do the same.

Also i have last secret: my skill. I don't believe in skill in art as quality concept, i love everything and honestly i love """ unskilled"""" art more with special warmth Love. But i am drawing my entire life and i have my techniques, which somehow lead me to that situation that my drawings could be seen in some concept art artbooks. But i refuse to give my power for industries and choose to give it to representative art and i Love it. But here comes the funny situation with this:

that awfull drama hater blogers, who takes """ unskillfull""" art of people without asking and laugh on it, who laughs on artist who make character headcanons like, disabled, or fat, or that respectfull redisign thing. That haters specifically take """"""""" bad""""""" art for their videos. Because in their values if art is skillfully drawn - it is cool art, and they judge only by that often. It is values which are in their core, conservative and not reflected, so with that it's also slapping with them not understanding importance of joy of experiment and being open to new in art. They don't see other parts of thing, they don't see context, they see only visuals and how good it at working with rules they were taught.

For these haters, a drawing of fat fav character made by man with affected motoric skills is a cause for big laughs. And a character number 1000076864578 made on base of one slim model with same female face, rendered in semi realism on promo of new (same and old) sucking money game is a masterpiece. For me it's totally opposite.

I even have a theory on why i am still not in one of these drama video. (well, part of) is that i have "pro" skill. What can they laugh on in my art? How they will say it? How they will laugh on art which is, by pro standard, better than theirs (i describing their believes, i don't judge art by visual, only by my moral system described above) "Their characters are fat!!!!" . So? "They change characters!!!" - and? I lied, i have another secret - characters for me are instrument. "I love to play with jpegs" - my common phrase.

I don't care about "lore reasons". "but this character did-", no he didn't do anything. he doesn't exist as being capable of thinking. all of his " did " are written actions by creators, and guess who i am (also creator) and guess that i can do (also write actions for jpegs). " but this character is slim-". yeah. in that image. i did another image and he is fat in it. Headcanons and au like playing dolls to me, it's super fun, and people who thinks that d***@#*""sney one model face designs are sacred, are, again, too far behind for hearing their echoes

So, that's my freedom in art and mind: i love my art, my body, i love that i opened in myself power to see beauty in every people appearance, my power to see beauty in others art and joy of playing with art. But it's me, with my context.

I have friendly surroundings, i have support, i have friends and audience, i am (kind of? in the niche, i guess) popular, i am confident in myself, i am confident in my art and my core values. I am near decade doing such art - it's contradicting mass media, but i found my support boubble, and this is my everyday life and norm to me now. And i am I totally understand that it can be scary to do something contradicting such thing as opinion on fat characters in mass media at first, then you don't have this long path behind shoulders or support, or rude people around. Negative comments can happen and it can be sad

But! I just want you to know that you have so much paths. If you feel shy and not confident - try to show this art with that fat character to friends who you are sure will support you. Or some friendly chat. Chats dedicated to fandoms who treat fat characters well are good choice. Surround yourself with support if you are not confident - someone need to be with you in case some rude people will be against. Cosplay, too - if you shy or not confident i would reccomend to try first with friends - making, photoes or going to convention. Then you feel comfortable in your confidence, you can post. Or you can not post. Or you can draw it in your sketchbook only. Or post in private little blog. Or, by the way - you can post and not tag him to main tittle tag. Even i did like this at first with my fat astarion. Before i understood people love my art of him. It's for your choice. And, it seems like now we have to post everything online on main, we actually don't have to. We can decide what to post or not, and what to keep to ourselves, and then we ready to post if we want. Open your own privacy room inside your chest. Don't feel pressured and post then you feel comfy.

Important thing to the end which i want to say is, that, this is why i make art in this way: for change, for showing that alternative on mass media image of this theme can be and exist. For people see themselves, for people thinking they are beautiful, realistic features are beautifull, to bring that beauty of people and world of Love into art.

For me some artists were first too, before me, in this. And sometimes even i afraid. I have opinions which i see people, who both on my side, are arguing on and i am afraid to bring my word. Because i don't see examples of that my takes in art. I am afraid to do something which will cause more drama than Love. I am too, sometimes afraid to be first or do something new.

So, i can't say to you what to do with your life and that decisions to make. But i can say your art and cosplay will be gorgeous and i don't need to see it to say it, and i will continue to fight my art fight for people like you to feel more comfortable about their bodies and art

❤

#can i say that i wrote two poems a day considering this ahah /lovely #okay i am hrrrr mimimi hope i gave usefull answer #long post

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