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virginreprise · 25 days

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J U N K Y ' P R I D E

joel miller x reader

" I KNOW I CAUGHT YOU AT A NOT SO HAPPY TIME OF YOUR LIFE " ✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

WARNINGS: age difference (big one), pervy joel, trailer park joel, joel miller has a vintage porn collection, joel's a sad old man, video game joel was in mind when writing, joel is six foot because i say so, multi-part, smut in the next chapter because i can't write anything if it isn't slowburn

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

AO3 LINK

CHAPTER ONE—BAD DISEASE

Static from the television set tucked in a corner, a beaten leather armchair parked in front of it and a stack of vintage, VHS porn tapes on the unit. One half of “Agent 69” stuck in the VCR, balancing on its side due to the lack of care from its owner who’d jacked off in the very chair that towered over it—cum stained fist and a name on his lips, slipped out between plush flesh. Hand frantic, jerking in tandem with the buck of his hips as he flit his eyes between the TV and the wood-panelled ceiling, profanities spilling from his filthy mouth. Muttering to himself as pornstar moans graced his ears, words whispered into the night, stolen by the archangels and flown up to God: conspiring, scheming, uttering under their breath that he should not be allowed through the holy gates on judgement day. That the defiled Bible on his bookshelf and the cross that had been left for him by the previous owners, pinned to the trailer wall, was not enough for them to ignore the strained sentences that he spewed in a desperate bid for the Trailer Park Princess on her knees—red nails and red lips wrapped around his cock. A ring of colour staining the base.

Utter filth. And Joel knew it.

The perversions he didn’t keep to himself, laughed about bending over the pretty thing next door whilst nursing a beer on Pete’s porch—puffing away on the cheap cigars he’d stolen from the liquor store. They tasted like shit, smelt like shit and Joel would’ve been better without it, but it added to the image: kept Susan from asking him stupid questions like why he didn’t have a woman. It was her way of flirting, bikini top displaying her sagging tits, bending over the kitchen counter whilst his buddies watched baseball.

“You got your eye on anyone, Joel?”

“Not really, Susan.”

Then Pete interjecting.

“Come off it, Susan. Just cause he ain’t committed don’t mean that he ain’t got women.”

That kept her quiet, made her slink away into the hallway, slipping into their bedroom and pulling a cover-up on—suddenly insecure.

Joel wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t have some strange penchant for young women. They were just…nice to look at. Pretty and sun-kissed in the Texan heat, ass hanging out their shorts, bikini top doing much more to entice than Susan’s did. There was no harm in looking—they never knew. He prided himself on being discreet, nursing a beer in the late afternoon whilst Kenny Rogers lulled from the radio, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the porch floor—eyes trained on your open window, cracked just a tad to let the air through. Drapes open.

At times, he thinks you do it on purpose, a gentle taunt, a silent jeer: “You can only look, perv.”

If the invitation was there, he’d take you up on it. Because out of all the women he’d fucked, headboard bashing against the wall, a chip in the wood of the trailer evidence of his trysts, you were the only one who’d worked him up to the point of no return. The only one who’d grabbed him completely by the collar and forced him to lick your boots.

Like Joel said, he wasn’t a pervert. You were just a fucking whore who needed to be put in her place.

So he’d sit there, in the white garden chair he’d snatched up from the pile of scrap that accumulated just east of his trailer, and watch. Most days, you’d be doing nothing in particular, unfortunately already dressed, dirty clothes in hand and wet hair dripping down your back. Other days, the days where Joel thought he was really lucky, where he’d stumble inside with a hard-on, sit on his recliner and hastily shove whatever he got his hands on, into the VCR, skipping over the poorly acted introductions, and pretend that the moans reverberating the trailer, were yours. Images of you slipping your shorts over your hips, swaying slightly to whatever tune you were listening to, peeling your shirt off your body. No bra. Slyly stepping towards your window, catching his eye once, a look so slight that he wouldn’t be surprised if he imagined it, and pulled your drapes shut.

He’d spilt all over his hand, white on his knuckles and a smile on his lips.

Joel would never feel guilty for wanting you, not when he had already made peace with the fact he was a deadbeat, bound to the white trash lifestyle, unemployed and living off the pills he paid for and sold for a ridiculously high price, still grieving his losses and wondering what the fuck he could’ve done differently. If he would’ve done anything differently given the chance.

No, Joel was not a bad person. He just looked for her in every person, desperately seeking a will. And so far, you had succeeded in helping him remove the gun from his mouth—evenings spent in different, dangerous ways.

Texan summers were unlike anything you’d experienced before, the heat so incredibly stifling that your love for the sun disappeared completely. Mornings spent on the porch, soaking in the last bits of breeze before cycling your ass to work, sweating and heaving by the time you got there, in the same condition when you rode back home and locked yourself away with every window flung open before nightfall fell and you felt you could breathe again.

The cicadas were loud, the snakes huddled up in the shade, waiting for you to trample on them, and the beast next door, Joel Miller: terrifying, gorgeous and a fucking pervert.

The day you’d moved into the trailer, despairing the loss of stability, ruminating upon your desperate escape from a home now dead and lost to the prairies of your mind, he’d been there. Wifebeater stretched across his wide torso, a cigarette placed on his lips, unused as it hung there, smoking away, the grey wisps begging with each dissipation into the atmosphere: breathe me in. He’d stared. Unable to be subtle no matter how slick he thinks he is, eyes flitting between your tits and your ass. Tits. Ass. Tits. Ass. A calculated dance that left a funny feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, a lurch in your bowels that made nausea claw its way up your throat.

Tits. Ass. Then, he suddenly looked at your face, standing there on his porch, the sunrise building its way up the horizon, too early for anybody to see him looking you over like you were a dead deer he’d just shot, smirking at the notion of sawing your head off and displaying it on the wall above his mantle. Heaving boxes into the empty trailer, lot number seventeen, whilst the owner of lot eighteen wouldn’t take his fucking eyes off you, was a terrible feat.

Once you’d shoved the last box into your bedroom, you’d shut the door, locked it tight and peeked through the window to see that he had gone back inside, retreating to the haven of steel and veneer.

Over time, Joel became easier to manage. After the initial, awkward introductions where he’d called you princess, babydoll, sugar (almost adding a “tits” to the end of the nickname before realising where he was) your stomach reeling at the monikers, time settled your unmistakable disgust for him, the universe replaced the sickness you felt when you spoke to him with another stomach-turning anxiety that you pushed down far into every crevasse and high onto every mountain.

You grew to enjoy the nicknames, skipping a few paces up his porch steps and ask him ever so kindly if he could come and fix the cupboard door that was swinging off its hinges, change the lightbulb because you couldn’t reach the ceiling yourself, stop the leaky tap that seemed to start drip drip dripping every month—just to bully you.

Although you knew that Joel was a dirtbag, hearing him talking about the filthiest things, laughing as Pete clapped him on the back in praise and acknowledgement, knowing that he wanted nothing more than to treat you like a whore, he gave you nothing except a sly smile, a sleazy nickname and the occasional help around the house. Fixing things.

So, naturally, you began asking around about Joel. Susan liked to gossip. So did Lillian, a woman who had spent her entire life in the park and, at sixty-two, had no interest in leaving.

“I remember when he moved here,” she’d told you one fine summer evening, when the heat wasn’t as menacing and you felt content being away from the air conditioning, sipping sweet tea in Lillian’s wooden garden chairs, feet placed on the seat—chin resting on your knees. “All stoic, wouldn’t speak ‘ta anyone. I could tell he’d gone through something bad, you know me and my sixth sense.”

She’d paused for a moment, taking a drag, a sip, a sigh before looking at you solemnly.

“He was a catch with the ladies,” she’d muttered. “They were all after him, even this one over here,” she’d pointed to Susan who’d smacked her arm, complaining about her disrespect. She was a married, loyal woman after all. “Well, it’s true. If I were twenty years younger, I would’ve gone for him too, but it wouldn’t have done much anyway cause he didn’t touch anyone. There ain’t many pretty young ladies round here, you know you’re the only one,” she’d said plainly, addressing you with a hint of affection.

Waving her cigarette around as she relayed every single detail she knew about Joel’s love life, telling you how after a few years of moping, he’d bring back girls in the middle of the night, fuck them, and then throw them out the next day.

“He’s not a romantic,” Lillian had prefaced, Susan interjecting with:

“Ya think so? I think he is…if he just found the right woman-”

“Oh don’t listen to her Darlin’, he’s a man who likes to play. He ain’t lookin’ to settle, I tell you that much.”

Listening to them both, their anecdotes, their stories, and their opinions, you concluded one thing about Joel Miller. He was an asshole. A man who had done nothing to better his life since he stepped foot in the trailer park ten years ago, a sag in his shoulders and an anger in his eyes.

You weren’t sure if he’d mellowed since then, or if he’d just managed to conceal it better. Joel hadn’t been angry around you, not when you knocked on his door at three in the morning, asking him if he could come get the spider out of your bedroom, not when you’d accidentally run into his truck with your bike or told him that he was an asshole when you’d caught him talking about you one day in springtime.

“She’s as dumb as fucking rocks,” he’d chuckled. “Bet she gets cockdrunk so easy.”

He’d grumbled out the last sentence, an afterthought that was more for him than the men he was talking to, but you, stumbling around, half-asleep after your shift, were not willing to take the degradation. You’d berated him in front of his peers, slammed the door behind you, and regretted it immediately. Because, even though it shouldn’t matter, even though you thought he was pervy and angry and wouldn’t treat you how you’d been told you deserved, the last thing you wanted was for him to hate you.

Every time he praised you, told you that you looked good as you stepped out of your home, on your way to Lillian’s for a catch-up and the cigarettes she bought you every three weeks, just for being good and keeping her company, you felt that tingle, the synaptic transmissions running down your spine every time he stepped through your door, asking what the issue with your tap was. You should’ve been disgusted when he’d left and you’d gone to the bathroom only to find the panties you’d left on the floor were gone, but you’d felt that same spark instead. A deep, sliding ache that consumed every part of you.

Luckily for you, your sink decided to start leaking again on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. Perfect time to lure him into your trailer, grab him by the neck and ask him as nicely as you could if he could cease the pain.

Sip of beer, drag of cigarette, click of the remote to change the channel, repeat.

A usual Sunday afternoon pastime.

Joel would’ve rifled through his VHS’s, find something he could jack off to whilst he deliberated whether today would be the day he’d say “fuck it” and saunter on over to next door, hoping to god he’d get his dick wet by someone other than a whore, but he couldn’t be bothered to move from his seat. It was effort enough trying to change the channel, arm aching as he pressed the button, rolling his eyes as the same boring drab illuminated his TV screen.

It was another one of those days. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, the broken glass, the notion that he would never fix it no matter how easy it would’ve been to go over to Shane’s and ask him to get it working again, all for the low price of a few pills.

She’d left him with it and he would die with it.

A reminder of her every time he glanced at his watch, swallowing hard as he remembered the way he’d pressed cool metal to the side of his head, a tear slipping down his cheek before realising that he never could. Because Joel was an asshole, he knew that. He was selfish and cruel and spoke about people as if they could get any lower than he already was. But more so than anything, Joel was a sad old man.

Tommy, the damn bastard, who’d left Joel to fend for himself while he went off with his new-found “true love” to have kids and a decent life, had sent a few thousand dollars and a pitiful “I’m sorry, Joel,” over the phone after his big brother had fucked up and lost his job. When Joel had been left penniless and broken. Nothing to fight for. No one to hold him or tell him that he was loved. He’d spent all his money raiding gas stations for cases of beer, bottles of whisky, anything that could numb the pain—choosing the alcohol over food, over his mortgage. When he’d lost the house, he hadn’t taken anything of hers. Even after she’d died, he’d insisted that everything needed getting rid of. Her clothes, her posters, even her damn phone. He’d slammed Tommy against the wall after realising that he was taking everything with him, that he was not doing as he was told. After that, Joel had closed the door on her bedroom and never stepped foot in it again.

All he had of her was a damn watch, a photo that his little brother had shoved into his hands, a harsh, “Take it, you damn bastard. You’ll regret it when you stop feeling so sorry for yourself,” on his lips, and the memory of her in his arms when he’d felt that huge heart of hers stop beating.

There had been many low points in Joel’s life, wandering through his existence on a tightrope that was ready to snap with every step, but none had been lower than that.

Not even when he’d called Tommy in the middle of the night, sobbing, struggling to breathe with a clean bottle of Jim Beam in his hands, begging him to help. He’d lost his house, he’d lost his job, he’d lost his daughter. Where to next?

Tommy, all the way in Wyoming had scraped together some money, told Joel to get himself down to the mobile park and a steady job. Start from the bottom again.

Sometimes, Joel resented his brother for not giving him that money for a flight to the West, smiling down the phone as he informed that they had a spare room for him, his nephew cooing in his bassinet and waiting for his old uncle.

He understood though. When he wasn’t drunk it made more sense why he hadn’t invited him to his home.

They hadn’t spoken in sixteen years. To his nephew whom he did not know the name of, he was just the deadbeat uncle who hadn’t made it out of Texas—still alive but lost.

Tommy would’ve probably hated him more if he was sitting on Joel’s couch, staring at the porn and the beer, the cigarettes that his little brother knew he had only smoked when he was a rebellious teenager—the occasional pull never becoming a habit, especially when his daughter came along.

Almost certainly would’ve despised him if he knew how he felt about the girl next door, the perverse catharsis he experienced when he took himself in hand and imagined taking care of her, shushing her whimpers, making her whine with the way he stretched her open.

Oh, and he was a bad man. A bad fucking man and he was the last thing you needed. Some poor, young girl who was doing her best to make it. Pay the rent on time, make sure she was kept fed, all whilst juggling the inescapable feeling that once you were in the trailer park there was no getting out.

Joel didn’t see an end. He’d been here for over a decade; his drug money was not for a new house or a new life, it was for whores and booze, a carton of Marlboro reds that he got for cheap from Bill, and porn. He’d collected all the goddamn vices—became a person so unlike who he was, so far from the quietly loveable single dad he’d been hailed as years ago.

As far as Joel now was concerned, that guy was a fucking pussy.

That guy would think he needed professional help for the way he thought about you, would expel every single image of you naked and writhing, tits bouncing in time with his thrusts as you lay boneless and crying in his grasp.

You were legal. What was the big fucking deal?

Joel needed this. You were not just some throwaway material good that would leave him in debt for the next ten years—you were full and gorgeous, smart, quick-witted and made him harder than the oak tree that stood centuries-old just a little down the road from the old Palmer farmhouse.

That day you’d heard him talking about you to his friends, the way he’d lied and said that you were dumb, when you’d come storming up his porch steps—all rage and heat—and cussed him out, he’d laughed. It didn’t matter about the taunts and the sniggers he got from his buddies who he would have no issue never speaking to again. They could go fuck themselves for all he cared because you hadn’t willingly thrown yourself at his feet and licked his boots.

Whores were easy. No challenge with a whore, no longing, no desire, just a mutual understanding that this was transactional and she was going to moan as loud as you wanted her to whether it felt good or not.

But you had given Joel something worth chasing. And fuck he was going to catch you, even if it meant he’d die in the chair he sat in, with nothing to show for his life except a case of Bud, an empty fridge, and a stain on his bedsheets where you’d reached for him—begging for everything he could not give.

Something about him had you checking your appearance before you walked out the door, making your hair presentable, touching up your lipgloss, blotting the oil from your face. All for a man who saw you as nothing but jailbait

You wanted to be wanted. To be looked at with a fire, an urge to grasp you and take you fully, pull you close when you cried and kiss you when you shook with the need to run far away. You wanted to be kept, to be reminded every day that you were needed, loved and desired.

You wanted Joel.

Joel: the sad old man next door, the dangerously handsome figure in your life that stood six feet tall, jaw sharp and strong, muscles straining with his arms crossed—built big and firm. A chest you’d very much like to lay your head on. A bulge in his pants you’d very much like to see stripped bare.

So when the opportunity came, you seized it, with an iron first, intent on capturing what had been yours since the day you’d moved to the free prison—since the day he’d stared at you, an unadulterated and irremovable, perverse desire that shook the very beings of your existence. That determined exactly who you are and how you would fall for the watchful eyes and glinting gaze that befell you every time you stepped down the rotten wood steps at the foot of the trailer entrance.

You stepped onto them then, Chuck Taylors strapped to your feet, laces loose and lazily tied, skin smoothed from the razor you’d pressed against it in the shower that morning—all for him. The appearance every bit of expectation you had for his fantasies and ideals, hoping that the attire would thrust him further into abandoning a morality he did not have.

The sun set rapidly behind you, the grass long and dry around your ankles, unmowed—as you nor Joel had ever discussed who would get mowing duty—and a clear head. A set destination, unstifled by a long day at work, the sweat curling along your back too harsh to be ignored and the sometimes discourteous demeanour of Joel’s so powerful that you often wondered why you liked him. Why you gave so much attention to a man years ahead of you, unable to look at you without laughing at the prospect you thought you were more to him than a pretty thing to look at whilst he wallowed in his castle of self-pity he’d built for himself all these years spent trapped and lonely.

It all seemed insignificant that day you’d crossed the boundary between lot seventeen and lot eighteen. When you’d shakily advanced up his steps, onto the porch you grew so fond of, and knocked once, twice, thrice on the white door—stepping back to await his welcome. Hoping to god that he’d see you and take you there.

The shuffling on the other side of the door raised your heart rate, a sweat forming on the back of your neck which you brushed away with a hasty hand, intimidated by what awaited you when the white disappeared and transformed into bulking arms and a firm chest—a tall body that you gazed up at with ardour.

When the sight appeared, you gulped away the desire to run away, to pretend that you’d just come here for the leaky tap and that there was no other reason you had bothered him on his peaceful Sunday afternoon. No ulterior motive. Not that you just wanted to see him because he had hardly been around the past couple of days and in truth you were worried about him; you wanted to make him feel better.

“Hi.” He struggled to conceal the surprise in his voice, seemingly struggling further to keep the thickness in his throat at bay, the redness of his eyes that displayed days of restlessness and insomnia. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you murmured impassively, licking your lips, swallowing away the dryness in your throat at the state of him: burning cigarette in hand, flannel shirt unbuttoned and displaying the white wifebeater that lay underneath. The shape of his belly was visible underneath it, his belt purposefully unbuckled and hanging from the loops of his jeans. “I’m alright.”

There was a twitch of his lips as he stared down at you, eyes flitting from head to toe—shameless in the way he always was. In the way you liked.

“You sure?”

It seemed stupid suddenly: the entire situation. The call you felt towards him, the want you had to curl up against his chest, let him hold you and tell you he was proud of you for opening up to him—telling him how fucking much you wanted him, despite knowing exactly how it would end if you were to venture further into a relationship that surpassed just neighbours.

So instead of inviting yourself in, seducing him until he fell to his knees, tugged you by the waist and begged you for just the smallest piece of yourself, you succumbed to your insecurity, and retreated from the palace walls.

“Yeah…yeah, it’s just that my taps leaking again.” For a split second, he almost looked irritated, eyes honing in on you, narrowing with a look of aggravation—confirmed by the clench of his jaw. You appeased him, saying, “You don’t have to come over now. I just thought I’d tell you,” and the expression slowly slipped away into something much more sinister: mirth.

“Sure thing, pretty girl,” he said as he slinked away from the doorframe, inviting you into his home, coaxing you past the threshold as he fumbled about in the fridge and pulled out two beers.

Contemplating, you stared at him, the flex of his muscles as he uncapped each bottle, the stature and size of him as he hunched over the counters, turning around to hold out a drink to you. An invitation. One that you had expected you’d have to give yourself—that you’d have to kick and cry before he ever let himself find you.

“Just have a drink,” he soothed in that southern lull of his, the words rolling from his tongue with ease. As if he had practised the scenario before he knew it would befall him. “No point in worrying over your tap, I can’t do anything until I buy new washers. I’m out 'cause of you.”

The irritation he’d shown earlier seemed palpable now—as if he was inviting you into his home simply to make you as uncomfortable as possible, hold you down by the hips until you promised to leave him alone. A taunt, a ploy to make sure you would never get what you wanted.

However, you had never stepped foot in his trailer, had only ever been on his porch and ran your hand over the chair he frequented, wondering what it looked like beyond the four walls, and curiosity prevailed as it always did.

Uncertainly, you stepped onto the carpet, gently closing the door behind you, and mumbled a thank you as you took the beer from his hand.

Almost immediately, you felt like apologising for his irrational emotions.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to put you out. I’ll pay for whatever you need-”

“You pay in ways you don’t know. I don’t need your money.”

The cryptic way in which he spoke, the casualness as he gave you a look that hinted at something you couldn’t decipher and the slow saunter to his armchair left you in a state of uncertainty. Standing there, with a beer wetting your hand, a frown on your face and a furrowed brow, you had no idea where to go next. What would await you if you questioned him—the things you would discover that were best left in the hands of God and no one else.

Again, curiosity thrust its violent hand into your stomach and forced your feet to start moving towards him, hoping that he’d appreciate your bravery—your denial of your urges to run far away. It was noted, however, that Joel Miller could care less about bravery. That the quality itself was right down at the bottom of the ladder and that he could and would not give a shit if you welcomed his advances in spite of your lack of courage.

Hesitantly, you planted yourself on his couch, the furniture built into the wall, curving into an L shape where you imagined he’d kick his feet up after a long day, palm the bulge in his jeans and pick from the litany of porn that you took one glance at and thought better than to stare at it too long in case he felt offended by your interest.

The discovery admittedly took away a little of his allure.

“Make yourself at home,” he insisted, taking a sip of his beer and urging you to do the same with a single nod of his head. The slight twitch of his lips when you did so caused your body to go squirming, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as the fire raged within you—unable to be sated with the way he looked at you then.

Just a scoff, a sip, and a glance at your lips before he turned away completely and focused his attention on the blank TV screen— his reflection the only entertainment.

Silence grew uncomfortable, the bitter taste of alcohol coating the back of your throat, dripping down your oesophagus and choking any words that you wished to say. The heat emanating from him was overpowering even from the distance you sat apart, the scent of cigarettes overwhelming, so much so that you needed a distraction, anything to dull the rest of your senses from shutting down—all because of his powerful presence; the effect he had on you even when he sat still and awaited your call.

“What did you mean?” The words came tumbling from your mouth, driven by an insatiable desire and lacklustre confidence you had somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach, bubbling with the acid that nestled there until it rose to the surface—bile transforming into questions that could leave you in a shell of humiliation. At his furrowed brow, you expanded. “About me paying in ways I don’t know.”

He leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. Sombre, all of a sudden. Staring into the barrel of his bottle, the brown glass reflecting like constellations on his face—accentuating the sharp angle of his jawline, the sunken hollows of his cheekbones.

When his eyes nestled on yours, burrowing right into your skull, you couldn’t move. Couldn’t even fathom the thought of taking a lungful of air, waiting with your breath held tight inside, for his answer.

“You shouldn’t go asking questions like that.” He sipped quietly, wetting his lips by flicking his tongue in and out, averting his gaze back to the shadow of himself in the television. “You’ll get yourself in trouble.”

It was not the answer you wished for, eyes downcast, focused on your shaking knee as you tried to gauge some form of clarity beneath the mystery that clouded the gates to his head—what lay beneath his skull; what you wished to find.

Against your better judgment, you pressed further, keeping the beer bottle clutched between your hands and hoping it would stay cold forever.

“I can handle myself.” It came out more confident than you had expected, your bobbing knee ceasing its movement, your dry throat provided with moisture. A break from the anxious sweat you had broken out in. “If you don’t tell me I’ll just leave a hundred dollars on your doorstep and leave you alone.”

You hoped quietly, in that stifling room, that he would make sure it didn’t come to that. That he would let you pay in any way he saw fit. You hoped that the sad hulk of a man sitting in the lone chair with porn in every drawer and money set aside for whores, would let you have him—bring back a semblance of light to his eyes. Find out what kept the despondency trapped so tight around him, the crown of thorns on his head expanding until it reached his feet and kept him locked in nature's prison—skin scratched, bloody and unable to be healed unless he found someone willing to cut through the overgrowth.

He seemed to bristle at your words, shoulders tightening, jaw clenching in the manner he did when he was irritated. You’d seen it before when Dale had been drunk and had followed you home. When you’d stumbled uncomfortably to your trailer and pleaded Joel who sat on his porch, almost looking like he was waiting for you, to get him off your back. That tick, the downturn of his brow, the twitch of his lip, the look so intimidating you had rushed inside and watched through the window as Joel clapped a hand on Dale’s back and ushered him away from you.

You had no idea what he’d done after they’d left your sight but Dale barely looked at you after. The last interaction you’d had with him was the morning after when he’d knocked on your door, timid for a fifty-year-old man, and apologised. Joel had been there, like he almost always was—always dancing in your peripheral, waiting for you, taunting you—with a cup of coffee clasped between two hands and a smug look on his face when he watched the interaction.

“You ain’t as smart as you think you are,” he uttered, slipping you away from the vignette and shattering the memory with his simple words.

They stung. More than you cared to admit.

Men were never this difficult, never this hard to get through to, never this confusing. He had given you every possible sign, every protection, every knowing look that confessed: you are everything I wish to have.

It seemed every day he was further from you, every day he looked at you and thought that he was blinded by loneliness and that you were the last thing he needed to dote on.

With the rejection, came vexation, a rumbling little thing that forced its way into your mouth—lips parting to let it out.

“You’re not as discreet as you think you are.” As soon as they fell, the rest came following like a herd of bulls, a huge red flag flying through the air, right where Joel sat. They came for him, and you didn’t care enough to stop them. “I’m not stupid, no matter what you say.”

The tick, tick, tick of his jaw. That subtle way his eyes narrowed, honing in on everything but the thing causing his problems, trying desperately to stop the truths from betraying his conceptions.

“I see you, Joel. I see you through my bedroom window, using me as your personal stripper because you’re too fucking cheap to go down to the strip club and give a tip.” The push and pull was becoming apparent, the sympathy and disgust you held for him all at once growing and growing until all that prevailed was rage. That after everything, he still refused. That he was still a fucking coward no matter how many faces he pulled at anyone who looked at him wrong. You would not be deterred by the look he gave you then: one that should’ve made you shrink away in fear he would do something rash. “I see the way you looked at me from day fucking one. Just a pair of tits to stare at, a new young girl that you can prey on-”

“Stop.”

“I’m not stupid.” Your voice was rising rapidly, your lips downturned in a scowl, unable to see the danger that befell you if you continued. “I know how you talk about me to your friends, I know that you make a show of being this immovable thing that no one can ever get to because you’re so wrapped up in your own self-pity that you can’t even admit to yourself that the only thing you are is a fucking pervert. And an asshole.”

“You are crossing a line, little girl.”

His words fell on deaf ears, a scoff coming from the back of your throat—so many things that you wanted to say but couldn’t voice. You settled for a final, blow. One that might kick him off his feet.

“I know you stole my panties.” Jaw ticking, teeth grinding so hard they were liable to turn to dust in his mouth. “Took them right off my bathroom floor. Could you not help yourself? Are you that sad, Joel? Are you that much of a fucking perve-”

Silenced by the way he towered, standing upright, bottle discarded by the leg of his chair and fury dancing in his eyes—so apparent and profound you finally stopped and cowered.

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

You were stunned into submission, finally on the end of his intimidation—a feat that was sure to happen sooner rather than later. You were just another Dale, just another one of his victims that he shot down with narrowed eyes and a nasty tone of voice that forced you to swallow down the confidence—sending it right back to your stomach, and burning the false assurance away.

“I have been cordial with you for as long as possible.” There was danger in the way he spoke so calmly, a tremor in your hands as he stepped forward, facing you completely, and kneeled before you—eyes boring into yours, forcing you to look at him with the hand he placed on the couch beside you. “I’ve tried my hardest to be respectable but you make it so damn difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, wishing you could take it all back, wishing that you could’ve used your boldness for better: crawled into his lap and let him hold you, sank to your knees like he and worshipped him with every bit of yourself you had.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he shook his head, the hand on the couch, moving, the weight of it resting there dissipating and falling even heavier on the side of your face. “You can’t take it back now.”

Nerves slipped like rapids through your stomach, the damn thing churning so much you began to feel sick with the anticipation and fear you felt being closer to him than you ever had been before. Your mouth opened as if to speak, then closed again when you realised that your throat had closed, the inside of your mouth dry and unable to lubricate your words with credibility as they fell from your lips.

“You think I’m a pervert?” he asked, eyes expecting an answer, eyebrows raising to help you find a response. “Hm?”

“Yes.” The monosyllable fell shakily, unable to lie when he was looking at you so harshly, all whilst stroking your cheekbone with his thumb and engulfing the right side of your face with one, big, warm hand.

He nodded with knowing, his other hand falling to your bare knee. You were crowded by him, completely consumed by his presence and with a harsh swallow, you hoped that he would slip away and allow you to breathe—if only for a moment.

“I know,” he said with finality, your cheek whacked with cold air as he removed his hand, quickly providing you with warmth again as he pressed his thumb to your chin, holding it delicately. Making sure you couldn’t look away from him. “But you like it, don’t you?” he brushed the bottom of your lip with his nail, an uncontrollable shiver running through you that he revelled in.

He’d called your bluff entirely. He’d locked you up in his cage, gave you the upper hand for just a second, made you believe that you could get away from him if you kicked and screamed enough, only to leave you hopeless as he twisted the key to the right, and threw the metal that granted you freedom, into the fire.

“If you had an issue with me looking, you’d close the drapes. You’re a smart girl, I’m sure it ain’t too hard for you.”

His patronisation, his demeanour that consisted of arousal and determination, had a small breath puffing from your lungs, a sudden and overwhelming heat crawling from each of his hands and into your head—breaking your rationale and leaving you pliable and willing in his grasp. He’d got you. Right there. And if he wanted you, you would let him have you.

“And if you didn’t want me to steal your panties, then you shouldn’t have left them there.”

It was unbelievable, the way he twisted the blame onto you, the way he made you believe in everything he was saying with a simple swipe of his thumb over your bottom lip and a look in his eyes that stopped you from questioning him.

“Yes, Joel, I’m sorry, Joel,” were the only words swimming through your head: words that you would’ve spoken aloud had he not stunned you into silence, the hand on your knee sliding along your skin, up towards the hem of your shorts where he slipped his fingers under and skimmed the skin concealed by the denim.

“You understand me, little girl?”

“I’m not a little girl,” you managed, voice shaky as the warmth of him engulfed you entirely, wrapped up in the scent of him, the feel of the callouses along your smooth skin and the eyes piercing you. If looks could kill…if those pretty eyes could rip you apart with the viciousness of their stare.

“No you ain’t,” he murmured, gripping your chin, thumb rubbing along the flesh of your bottom lip, the skin bouncing as he peeled it back and let go. “I know you ain’t.”

There seemed a flood came over his being, a white wave of purity dowsing him, ridding him of every adulteration and forcing sense back into his head as the hand fell from your face, the one on your inner thigh taking longer to slip away before the cloud of insensibility faded and he arrived to a semblance of morality.

You watched as he stumbled over to the kitchen, hand working over the scruff he called a beard and forced his eyes away from you.

“Joel,” you called softly, finally gaining back a little strength now he wasn’t crowding you; forcing you to look at him and make the first move so his conscience could be clean.

“Just go.” The words were uttered much softer than before, the delicacy of his voice surprising you but the strain that coated his throat a reminder that this was still Joel Miller. Dangerously beautiful Joel Miller with a lifetime of terror stashed somewhere in the backrooms of his mind, a darkness in the depths of his eyes you couldn’t help but be frightened by, and a story you wished he would tell. A story that stretched years back to the life before he crept past the opening gates of Shady Springs Mobile Park and left a life that you had no clue wether had been better or worse than his life now. “I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon and have a look at that tap. You might have to get maintenance round soon though if it keeps up.”

“I don’t like strangers…in my house.” Your words trailed off at the end of your sentence, caught up in the possibilities of your words and how he would reply. If he would see right through you and clock how you’d only spoken because the tap was one of the biggest ties you had to Joel. If he would realise that you’d thought about getting maintenance months ago when it first started dripping but didn’t want a permanent fix, no matter how annoying. All because of Joel Miller and the way he’d perversely captured you in the plot of some barely legal porno that you would’ve turned your nose up at if it was anyone but him and you.

You and Joel.

The thought sounded nice—the reality a little less nicer.

“Yeah, well…” he leant back on the countertops, arms crossed over his chest, eyes bloodshot and bordered by black—an undeniable piece of evidence that Joel perhaps wasn’t doing as well as he made everyone believe; that there was something deeper tugging at his mind and causing such aggravation.

After a moments silence, when he looked at you and you looked right back at him, your head clear and working properly again, you diverted the conversation elsewhere—a ploy to hack deeper at his head and find what lay underneath his skull.

“Are you okay?” Simple, easy. Not difficult to ascertain the concern laced deep in your tone because you were concerned for him. The moment he’d opened the door after days of barely seeing him, time spent cursing the fact he could peer through your windows but you could not peer through his, you knew something was wrong. That there was something happening to him. Something dangerous. Your sympathy began to overtake everything else, memory shed of all the times he had wronged you and replaced with the very little he had done right. “You look…tired. Exhausted, really.”

“I’m fine,” he said with finality, the rage in his eyes returning but with less power this time. The fatigue was setting in, the constant running from himself finally catching up to him.

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine.” It shut you up well enough, so much so that you began to lose the commiserations. You could always say you tried. “Now get out of my house.”

It was the final thing he said to you before he slipped away, striding down the hallway, footsteps echoing until he reached the bedroom; the click of the door resounding throughout the trailer.

You stared at the spot where he’d kneeled, a finger brushing softly over your lip before shaking away the self-pity and gently placing the beer bottle on the table that sat next to his chair.

Looking one last time at the door at the end of the hallway, shadowed and guarded by snapping dogs, you opened the door, the damn thing creaking as if to shout to everyone within a mile radius that you had made no progress with the man you desperately wanted, and stepped out. Leaving your pride on the doorstep.

thanks for reading !

#virginreprise™#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #joel tlou #the last of us fanfiction

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hyperpotamianarch · 28 days

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Pleasant music playing. The logo of Camp Nephillim appears on a sky-blue background. The logo is a tilted Star of David in which all the points are stylized as wings, with the words "Camp Nephilim" above and the Hebrew equivalent - "מחנה הנפילים" - below. Underneath the logo is a tagline - a quote from the Tanach.

The logo & background slowly fade. The music also fades, though a bit later than the logo.

[Setting: Int., an office of some sort. The back wall is covered with book shelves, with many of the books being in Hebrew - the Talmud, multi volume edition of the Tanach and such books. There's a table in the middle of the room. Behind it sits Tuvia Rosenbloom, an adult Jewish man with curly dark hair, a short beard and sharp green eyes. He wears a blue Camp Nephilim t-shirt, with a Tzitzit under it and a yarmulke on his head. He sports a friendly smile.]

Tuvia (with a noticable British accent): Shalom! Hello, and welcome to Camp Nephillim. I am Tuvia Rosenbloom, the camp councelor, and I'm here to explain to you about what this camp is and why you're here. Your journey here was likely shaking, so in the meanwhile take your time to relax and drink a cup of water while you're watching this orientation video. Please remember to say the blessing before!

[He lifts a cup of water, says the blessing and drinks before continuing]

Tuvia (cont.): So, first thing first: you should know that many thing that you may have thought were merely myth are, in fact, quite real. This includes angels and demons - though they aren't exactly the same as you might've imagined them. No, the whole "Biblically Accurate Angels" meme wouldn't prepare you enough either. Angels can also sometimes appear differently than their natural form, and can even seem like regular humans. They sometimes fall in love with humans, which is how most Nephilim come to be.

[Tuvia's office disappears, to show instead a Chumash opened in the Book of Genesis, chapter 6]

Tuvia (cont.): What are the Nephilim? Well, as the Torah says,

"It was then, and later too, that the Nephilim appeared on earth—when divine beings cohabited with the human women, who bore them offspring. Such were the heroes of old, the men of renown."

[Setting returns to Tuvia's office]

Tuvia (cont.): So, those are the Nephilim, then: children of Divine beings and humans, who are heroes and men of renown. And you are likely one of them.

[Tuvia takes another sip from his cup, then sets it aside]

Tuvia (cont.): You might need some time to digest that, feel free to pause the video for a few minutes. Getting back on topic, though: you are, likely, the child of a divine being. If you always grown with a single parent who only rarely reminisced of another parent you don't know what happened to them - you are likely a Naphil. It may grant you certain abilities relating to the position your divine parent served in the universe. Note, however, that those divine beings aren't gods. We do not worship them or offer them sacrifices, even as mediators between as and G-d. Some of those Divine Beings do like to consider themselves gods and were worshipped by old civilizations - the Greek and Norse pantheons, for example. That doesn't make them any more gods than the Angels known in Jewish lore - they are merely forces. Powerful, but not omnipotent.

[Tuvia pauses for a moment, letting that sink in]

Tuvia (cont.): There are other types of people who might find their way to Camp Nephilim, however. Perhaps you were training in magic under the Egyptian ḥartumim of Per Ankh and felt uncomfortable during Passover; maybe you studied under the tutelage of the Chaldeans in New Jersey, and they were harsh on you during Tisha b'Av; or maybe you were either born with the Re'iyeh, the Sight, or were granted it by an experiment gone wrong. I, personally, am descended from one of the few Jewish bloodlines that inherited the Re'iyeh from one of our ancestors. We can see the hidden world, and the threats within... and they tend to look back. Which leads us to demons.

[Tuvia leans back in his chair, putting his hands together]

Tuvia (cont.): It is important to remember that Demons - or Shedim, as they are known in Hebrew - aren't what you've come to expect from beings with such a name. They aren't evil monsters, hell-bent on tempting you to sin. Rather, they are... adjacent beings to us, not dissimilarly to elves or goblins in modern popular media. However, they are nothing like you may have come to expect from elves of the Tolkeinian kind. They are wilder than them, and prone to hurt humans. They aren't always murderous or impossible to reason with either. Some of them, like our lore instructor Yonatan Shida, are rather friendly. Many of them crave blood, though, and nothing is tastier to them than the blood of the Nephilim, or other humans capable of seeing them. They live in the edges of society and can feel when someone is looking at them. And when you do... when you acknowledge seeing them... you become fair play.

[Tuvia returns to his previous posture, lifts his cup and takes another sip]

Tuvia (cont.): You likely had a significant encounter with Shedim, or maybe other types of monsters, on your way here - but it probably wasn't your first time seeing them. It might have been a man who, upon a second look, had chicken legs. Perhaps you could've sworn that a weird stranger who seemed to follow you had two heads. You may have seen a horse fly on the horizon, or encountered a tall person with an umbilical cord tying them to the ground on a field trip. They were less of a threat to you back then. But yo have grown, and your powers and abilities grew with you - along with the Shedim's ability to sense you. They will be coming for you - which is why you're here. Camp Nephilim is a place for Jewish Nephilim and Ba'alei Shem to train. To get used to the powers granted to us by virtue of our parentage or via other means. We're not the only place for such training; Camp Half-Blood in Long Island offers training for children of entities from the Greek Pantheon, while the 21 Nome of the House of Life in Brooklyn offers training in Egyptian magic, and the Chaldean school in Jersey City will train you in the Mesopotamian vain. None of those, however, is built with Jews in mind: the worship of pagan gods is common in all these places. They don't supply you with Kosher food, tend to not care for our holidays and often enough rife with latent antisemitism. We offer a Jewish alternative - no matter what is your level of observance or what congregation you belong to, you can be sure we have here at least one synagogue you can daven at and one you'd never set foot in. We do not worship any god but G-d here - you can honor your parents in ways fitting the traditions of the Torah, but even if a divine parent asks of you to worship them you are not required to. Another difference between us and the other Camps and Schools is that you aren't trained to slay Shedim here. You're trained to keep them at bay, imprison them if necesarry. Unlike other monsters, Shedim die like humans do, and so killing them should be only taken as a last resort: if your life are in danger you should kill whoever threatens you, but otherwise killing Shedim is like murder. We would ask you to refrain from doing that unless necessary.

[Tuvia gets up]

Tuvia (cont.): That is it for the orientation video for now. Further explanations on your sleeping arrangemnt and schedules will be given to you when you exit the room. Welcome to Camp Nephilim! We hope you enjoy your time with us.

[Outro music playing, the picture of Tuvia's office is replaced by the blue background with the Camp's logo to the side while the credits are shown on screen]

———

Writer wishes to note he knows nothing about writing stage instructions.

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #חרשתא #jumblr #judaism #jewish fantasy #Camp Nephilim #Tuvia Rosenbloom (OC)#arch's unfinished stories #I know it's weird #and not very good #an idea I had following discussion on Jewish representation in PJO #don't expect it to go anywhere #a slight crossover #emphasis on slight #hope you enjoy!

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rinchfest · 1 month

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Coming this September to an internet near you: Rinch Fest 2024, a ship week for Harold Finch/John Reese from Person of Interest! This is a low-pressure event meant to encourage the creation of more fanworks for Finch/Reese or Finch & Reese’s friendship. Fic, art, gifs, vids, podfic, you name it—all are welcome, as long as they’re Rinch-centric.

Posting for Rinch Fest will run from September 24 through September 30, 2024

PROMPTS:

Day One – September 24 Fluff• Pining• "Always" • Dark• Domesticity

Day Two – September 25 Be Nice To John• Established Relationship• Road Trip • Food/Drinking/Cooking • Art

Day Three – September 26 Be Nice To Harold• Belly• "Beach Cabin in the Woods• "Five+1" • Pets/Animals • Music

Day Four – September 27 Kids/Babies/Pregnancy• Hugs• Clothes • Setting/Genre Change AU• The Machine

Day Five – September 28 Bed Sharing• Wedding/Marriage• Crossover • Canon Divergence • Tropes

Day Six – September 29 Finch Whump • Reese Whump • NSFW/Kink • Retirement • Home

Day Seven – September 30 Free-For-All/Catch-Up Day

Keep reading for more info!

Who’s running this? ArgylePirateWD. Hi! Now with mods @alexsrousseau and @stingalingaling

Any changes since last year? None! As in previous years, Reese&Finch friendship is also allowed

Why not call it Rinch Week? It started out as Rinch Fest on The Rinch Loft on Discord, and that’s what stuck.

Plus, Rinch Fest and Reese & Finch share the same initials.

What’s allowed? Complete fanworks focusing on Harold Finch and John Reese in a romantic or close platonic relationship with each other. Fic, art, vids, remixes, sequels, you name it! No length requirements, no style requirements, all ratings allowed—do what you want!

Anything not allowed? Works where Finch/Reese or Finch & Reese is not the primary relationship (additional ships are fine), works that are incomplete at the time of posting, and remixes or other transformative works for other people’s fanworks that are done without the original creator’s permission. Anything else is fair game, as long as it’s labeled.

Also, don’t be a jerk.

What about [insert controversial topic here]? Can I make something with x?/OMG someone made something with x! Anything else is fair game, as long as it’s labeled. This includes works featuring tropes and kinks that you may not like or approve of. As long as it’s warned for, it’s fine and allowed.

Please warn for the usual AO3 warnings (Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Rape/Non-Con, and Underage) and any subjects others may find deeply unpleasant, and clearly label any NSFW works.

What about poly? Gen? Poly is wonderful, but this is a Finch/Reese or Finch&Reese event. Sorry.

Finch & Reese gen is allowed!

What do I do with x prompt?/Can I do [insert concept here]? Anything goes! Seriously, however you want to interpret a prompt is fine.

Do I have to make something for every prompt? No! You can if you want, but it’s not required. Feel free to skip days, combine prompts, create multiple fills for each day, anything! This is as flexible as it gets.

If it fits multiple prompts, when do I post it? Whatever day works best for you!

What if I want to do something NSFW? There's no nsfw prompt this year. Is it still allowed? YES! Bring on the spicy if you want!

What about a multi-chapter/piece thing where each chapter fulfills one day’s prompt? When do I post that? Post an update each relevant day until you’re done! (Just make sure you can finish it by the end of the event.)

What if it doesn’t fit a prompt? That’s what Day 7 is for! :D

What if I need to post my fill(s) on a different day? Life happens. The AO3 collection is set to Unrevealed, so I can reveal early submissions on the right day, but if that doesn’t work for you, I’m sure we can work something out.

Can I work on a previously-posted WIP? As long as it’s finished when you make your post for the event, sure! If you’re just updating a WIP without finishing it, no.

Can I start working now? Absolutely! That’s why I’m announcing it now—so there’s plenty of time for people to make things.

Can I talk about/share previews of what I’m working on? Sure!

Wait, there’s a Rinch Discord server? Do I have to join to do this? Of course not. We’d love to have you at The Rinch Loft, and it’s a fun place to hang out, but Rinch Fest is for anyone into Rinch.

If I want the Discord link… Send in an Ask to the @rinchfest Tumblr, contact ArgylePirateWD somewhere, or ask around. It’s open to anyone who likes Rinch or Person of Interest. I’m happy to give it out to anyone who wants it.

Where do I post? On Tumblr, post to your blog and use the #rinchfest23 or #rinchweek23 tags. You are They are being watched. 👁 And maybe add @rinchfest in your post to be sure. Tumblr is as hungry as Bear and Shaw.

Submissions are also open.

On AO3, you can post it here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/rinchfest23/

Do I have to have a Tumblr? AO3? As long as you’re on some kind of platform and can get a link to the work to me somehow so I can share it with the world, you’re welcome to play.

On October 1st, I’ll make a round-up post full of links to all the shiny things people made. If I know you made it, it’ll go in!

What time zone? The daily prompt posts will be going up at 12 am Central Time, but as long as it’s the relevant day for your fill somewhere in the world, go ahead and throw it in!

(And if you want to sneak in some Day 7 things a little after, as long as they get posted before the Master Post goes up… 😉)

Sounds fun! How do I sign up? No signups! Just post your stuff somewhere on the right day(s), and you’re in!

#rinch #harold finch #john reese #person of interest #poi #person of interest fanworks #person of interest fan art #person of interest fanfiction

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baiabay · 1 year

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No Role Modelz (ATSV Black Cat Variant! Reader Insert)

Chapter 1: Scaredy-Cat

Prologue

Chapter 1: Current Chapter

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

^^links 2 chapters!! this story is also on ao3, wattpad, and quotev under the same name ! <33

------------------------------------------------

A/N: Spot is here!!

Hey all! Okay so first things first thank you so much for all the support of the last chapter! It honestly means alot given that ive never written before lol. Alsoooo sorry for the radio-silence after the last release, i just graduated highschool! So yay for me :) also means that ill have much more time to write since its summer break for me now. Lastly,sorry if this chapter seemed kinda slow, I wanted to try to incorporate what this universes’ Felicia Hardys “canon events”(or what would be of her canon events) would look like in this chapter to set up a bit of backstory, as someone who doesn’t read the comics nor play the games, pls forgive any inaccuracies in Felicias lore as I am only going based off of wikipedia (plus in this story reader is a minor so I wanted to exclude the nsfw trauma that Felicia goes through in og story) I also wanted to find out a way how to integrate reader into the main plot which is why i decided to feature Spot in this chapter :D thanks again for the support and don’t forget that this chapter along with any future ones will be posted to ao3/tumblr under the same title!

P.S. Much more Spider-Miles/Black Cat interactions next chapter!!

Word Count: 1844

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You remembered it like it was yesterday.

Seven months ago, Brooklyn, New York.

Your father - The Black Cat’s face on every screen in the country, but most importantly yours.

BREAKING NEWS: WORLD-RENOWNED CAT BURGLAR CAUGHT IN THE ACT : IDENTITY SHOCKS THE NATION

…huh?

LIVE ON THE SCENE: ‘BLACK CAT’ REVEALED TO BE MULTI MILLIONAIRE WALTER HARDY AFTER RUN-IN WITH SPIDER-MAN

…no, this-

THIS JUST IN: CAT BURGLAR WALTER HARDY PRESUMED DEAD AT HEIST SCENE - POSSESSIONS TO BE TURNED IN TO OFFICIALS

This can’t be happening.

It was all too much at once.

He never kept it secret from you. You knew about your father’s job.

You knew all about what he did. The planning, the heists, the reselling, he had done it for years. And you knew all about it. But he had been doing this for years. Long enough to allow your family to live very comfortably. Long enough that you believed he would never be caught.

But yet there you were, all that you knew burned to the ground in a matter of minutes.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Frantically packing everything you could into any bag you could find; clothes, money, pictures, weapons, anything - before they could take it away from you.

And when they did, it was brutal.

Live-streamed news coverage of men raiding your home, rummaging through your stuff- your father’s stuff- as if he never existed.

Soon enough there were auctions. Bids, worth millions, on your father’s items, broadcasted across the nation, with drinks and music and finger foods - they made a fucking sport out of it.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, the cheers in the street after the big-bad-black-cat was pronounced dead. The endless praise Spider-man received, that of which he took with a smile on his face. You had wished you could kill him.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, the day Peter Parker died.

You laughed.

. . . . . . . . . .

Seven months later, Brooklyn, New York.

Ugh.

Muscles aching, you stretched up in your bed, and groaned. Ruffling the bedhead out of your hair, you reluctantly trudged out of your mattress to open a window. Coincidentally, one of your many cats was perched perfectly on its sill, wide-eyed and tail flicking in your direction.

“...This whole heist stuff is really catching up to me, huh?”

The cat stared. You sighed. You really had to get yourself some friends.

Ever since your fathers passing, you’ve basically been on your own. Shortly after all his (and your) possessions were seized, you hopped around until you managed to find shelter in a shitty apartment on the west side of town. You, fueled purely by spite (with a tasteful teeny tiny dash of vengeance on the side), inherited the criminal persona of your father, along with his criminal tendencies, and took upon yourself the name of The Black Cat.

All this time you’ve managed to keep your identity completely secret, not even your resellers knew who you were. That came with one major drawback though… you were extremely lonely.

Even with your frequent charity rounds around the community, noone really knew who you were. Even though Black Cat was nonviolent, the name was widely feared seemingly everywhere you went. Even with your days at school, the school you’ve been going to for months now, you made your way around the halls unnoticed.

Speaking of school, you were late.

Shit.

Spending ample time dazing out your window, you’ve completely lost track of time. You disregarded your hair and rushed to pull on your uniform. Stumbling around your complex you hastily dumped too large of a portion of cat food into the automatic feeder, something you’re sure the cats will be grateful for. Shoving a few snacks into your bag, you simultaneously shuffled into your school shoes, proceeding to dash out the door.

Sprinting down the stairs, nearly tripping once, twice, you whipped out your phone to check when the next bus route would arrive. 35 minutes.

Shitshitshit.

You paused, still in the stairwell, before turning to sprint in the opposite direction, towards the rooftop terrace. Creaking open the door, you checked to make sure noone else was up there before making your way towards the edge of the terrace. To anyone else but you, it would look like a young student was about to make an unfortunate decision and jump. And jump you did.

You fell for a few seconds, relishing in the way your stomach dropped. You’d never get tired of that feeling. Seeing the ground get closer, you released your grappling hook and latched onto the nearest building. Pulling and releasing, you quickly fell into a swinging pattern, towards Brooklyn Visions.

Hidden from the eyes of civilians, you swung yourself through the shadows. Everyone looked so small from up there, and for a brief second, you found power in your lonesome. In the corner of your eye you noticed what seemed to be a lanky white figure clumsily flying through the air. (You paid it no mind).

Dropping down into a dark alleyway much closer to campus, you continued your mad dash towards the main entrance. Winded, you finally made your way inside the building, a thin layer of sweat shined on your forehead. The hallways were empty, class must be in session. You took a few steps forward, making your way towards your classroom until being knocked over by a student, very evidently in a hurry.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to-I’m just in a rush, I didn’t mean…”

The boy reached out his hand to help you up.

“Hey, it's no problem, I get it.”

You smiled, and took your hand in his. He hesitated for a moment, staring, brows furrowed at your now interlocked hands, before nodding and continuing his sprint down the hallways.

You took in his disheveled appearance, his wonky tie, his half-tucked shirt, untied laces, dark eyes, curly hair, brown skin, sweaty palms…

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted with the shrill ringing of the school bell. Suddenly, the hallways flooded with students rushing towards their next classes, you decided to follow suit.

On the other side of the hallway, Miles Morales lingered on how his spidey-sense flashed alarms in his head when his hand touched yours. Every nerve in his system telling him to run, fight, dodge, anything to get away from you-he couldn't put his finger on why. (He paid it no mind). Blaming it on nerves, Miles shoved his way through the packed hallways, dreading the meeting waiting for him in the guidance counselor's office.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

School was a bust, as always. Nothing new, you made your way through the rest of the day unnoticed. As always. But you didn’t have time to think about that right now.

At the moment, you were in the middle of going through numerous number-codes on a padlock blocking the vault door to an extremely expensive gemstone. You’ve been salivating over this stone for weeks now, planning out how and when exactly you would strike to get this thing in your hands. You could see it now, the headlines, the chaos, after some rando millionaire’s little rock was taken from him…

“Woah, hey, you’re new!”

You flinched, hard. Whipping around towards the source of this unusually chipper voice. You were met with… a cow? … Man?

You stared, hard.

“Okay, hey. The ogling isn’t necessary… I just-”

The cowman’s sentence was cut short with a quick lash of your whip, that of which he caught…? Your whip seemed to phase right through a large black hole on his torso, the opposite end appearing in a similar black hole right behind you, the whips end striking your back. You cried out, hit with the full force of your lash.

Sinister giggles emerged from the spotted figure, pointed towards your pained form. You trembled, in shock.

“It’s rude to interrupt.”

Spot stepped slowly towards you, his…well, spots, whirring aggressively, pointedly. You were frozen on the ground. Staring up at him, your lips trembled open.

“What,” You coughed. Once, twice. “-what are you?”

The black and white figure straightened, only to then fold over into a dramatic, hilariously unthreatening pose.

“You, can call me… The Sp-”

“Some sort of cow?” You snickered. It was now his turn to flinch, hard.

“I am NOT a-” The cow cleared his throat. “I am not a cow…whydoeseveryonesaythat…I, am the most dangerous villain you’ve ever seen, The Spo-”

“I mean, what’s with that getup?” The grin on your face grew. “Is that… is that supposed to be a costume? Orrrr…”

The Spot sighed, defeated. “...it’s skin.”

“It’s skin?”

“Yes, yes, now I-”

You stood up, energy back and eyes crinkled.

“Wow, that’s…hm, interesting…skin, that’s skin? Sorry, sorry-listen man, I uh, I really gotta get back to this, so if you don’t mind?”

Stepping backwards in offence, the spotted figure shook in anger before swinging out his arm, releasing numerous dark voids around the room. Hitting practically every surface, but one most importantly, landing on the vault door, separating you, from your stone.

“Ah-wait-”

Swiftly, The Spot weaved his way through his holes, limbs popping up and out around the room in a way you couldn’t even begin to reach for your whip.

No way was he about to take it from you.

But take it, he did.

In what felt like seconds, the whole room was engulfed in black. Stumbling backwards, you fell through one of the voids, flailing ungracefully, swimming through nothing.

It was hard to breathe.

A shrill crackling terrorized your ears, and before you, appeared a very disheveled Spot, now fully black with white spots, facial dot whirring and trained on you.

Gem in hand.

Panic.

You were panicking. The sound of blood thrummed in your ears as you squirmed around in nothingness. Fuck the rock, you just had to get out of here.

A cold hand grabs your wrist, dragging you upwards, towards the crackling form.

For the second time today, you were frozen.

“I am not a cow,”

The form spoke lowly.

“I am not some villain of the week”,

Frozen still, you did nothing but stare straight into his glare.

“I. Am. The Spot”.

Suddenly, you were dropped. For the second time today, your stomach dropped with you. Next thing you know you’re falling through another void, leading not into darkness, but through the city skyline. Seeing the ground get closer, you released your grappling hook and latched onto the nearest building.

As soon as your feet reached a solid surface, your legs buckled. Heaving, you failed to process what just took place, heart pounding in your ears.

“...the fuck was that?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Miles received word of commotion taking place downtown, something to do with spots. He had hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was, and it was. It was, and was so much worse.

Dark spots littered a large manor, maniacal cackling emerging from its center. In the corner of his eye a familiar masked figure hunched over, breathing rapidly, staring straight ahead at the mess of spots.

(He paid it some mind.)

------------------------

Ppl that asked me to tag them!(thxx 4 the support!)

@nightshxdex

@itszzmoon

@blackcat-kittyblogs

@vxxxb

#miles morales x reader #atsv x you #atsv #reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv reader insert #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #black cat! reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miguel ohara

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monst · 6 days

Note

LOVEE your tim fics🩷🩷 i keep coming back to read them again 🥹 if its okay can i ask if youre planning anything else for him?

Aww Thank you! That really means a lot! And it’s more than okay to ask! Eeeekkk I’m like obsessed with Tim so there’s so much I have planned for him. I try to hold myself back cause I don’t wanna be stingy and hog the tags >.<

Ahhh okay okay I’m just really excited! Right, so imma separate this into two categories Sfw & nsfw(Under cut)

WC- 800

Sfw:

Tim drake General hc’s: We’re sitting at 2.3k words for this so I’m tryna cut this down.

A couple of cute date fics: Sort of like “Go for a drive” and “Watching the sunset” Ex: Watching movies in the car (Drive up movie theater), Skateboarding, and slushies (Some graffiti) Gala shit, Maybe some sports stuff cause he’s low-key sporty (Multifacited this one, probably why I like him so much lol) Magic shenanigans while play their version of D&D (Kinda like that one Gravity falls episode, gotta bring in my witch boy Klarion) Mostly fluff

Another edition of ‘High Ramblings about Tim Drake’: I mean I typed it out and I figured I might as well post it- just general ideas on what DC can do with his character. Hypothetical story arcs, his position in Gotham, his age and alias, etc.

Father, there's something wrong with Timothy: Aftermath of Joker Junior, Mostly from Damian’s pov. This one is more of an Elseworlds au since I didn’t want it to be the Batman Beyond version. Anon requested the batfam’s reaction to his relapse so it’s canon adjacent? (Not an x reader) Thriller/Horror.

Executive Tim: Anon req. Yandere Tim Drake. He’s already got a killer migraine and Tam’s replacement already screwed up. Screwed up may be a bit harsh but with the week he’s had he wasn’t feeling quite charitable. The mix-up with one of their outside distributors has Tim calling different vendors. Multiple calls later and he swears if he gets transferred to a different department one more goddamn time he’s going to- “Hello you’ve reached (Your name) how can I help you?” - Employee poaching lol, Unhealthy power dynamics, Gratuitous abuse of power.

Around the world: Series in no particular order. I hc that he’s learned to make the most of his time with his partner. (Past relationships failing due to not spending any time together) So even if you're not a vigilante he takes you with him on missions if you're also free and down. Needs to do a stakeout? Going undercover? Trailing a suspect? Or just general boots to the ground investigating? He’s asking if you’d like to tag along. However, anything that involves him in the mask or anything that involves physical combat is off the table. You walk into his apartment and see Tim's bitchy face and he just asks you “You wanna go to Switzerland?”

Old friend: Some call it being at the wrong place at the wrong time others prefer to call it fate. Honestly, he never pondered fatalism. But the joker was dead and there were no leads. Whoever had done it didn't leave anything behind nor did they announce it. It had to be fate. After all, this was the kind of death the psychotic clown would have despised. It’s been two weeks and the blame game had already been played. Solid alibis. He was told not to investigate. So he was in some dingy laundromat with Ives; catching up with old friends to curb his need to investigate. But he recognized the employee refilling the quarters “(Name?)” - Mystery, suggestive themes, smoking, gang affiliations, Hypocrite Tim Drake

Not your typical office romance: Multi-chapter, your company sends you as part of a team to initiate building reforms in Gotham. As a result, your introduced to your new colleague for this project Tim Drake from Wayne’s R&D department. You're eager to get to work, but your flakey coworker is halting progress. Your polite facade comes crumbling down due to massive misunderstandings. Lots of antagonism, Bitchy Reader

Nsfw:

Escalation 2: This one is mostly done just need to edit. You found a way to play off not seeing the snap but my boy is shameless. And you may have started something you'll lose at.

Deal with the devil: Dark! Tim drake (Borderline Yandere) Hmm. This one is fucked; He should have left you to your fate. You knew better than to go investigate that cave alone but that’s just who you were, reckless, fickle, unburdened, hardheaded. He didn’t know whether he hated you or if he was just deeply envious. But even so, he couldn’t just leave you alone, not when you actually used the emergency beacon he gave you. Not when you actually kept it. He should have expected that it was Ra’s Al Ghul’s doing, he should have ignored his words, he should have but a snake seduced Eve in the Garden of Eden, and wasn’t Ra’s a devil?

Five minutes: Oral fixation reader, Tim’s playing Apex (Octane or Horizon main) with some old friends but you really need him in your mouth. Subspace. Why Apex? Because everything I know about it has been involuntary.

Vacation: Sort of a spin-off of Across the World. This series involves trips around the states and the world. He’s a vigilante but he’s also a very public figure that still needs to attend certain social events. Ex: Ski trips(This one* mhm), Weekend Conferences, or just a vacation. (Cases might align with an event)

Indecent: You come up to his office while he’s busy. But you came up looking too distracting how on earth is he supposed to concentrate? Spoiler he doesn’t.

Boudoir pics: Cute flirty pictures of each other that's what this was supposed to be.

Impatient: The fact that your boyfriend could so easily hold you down was very hot. But you're so over it, if he didn't stop teasing you were going to die! Tim x M. Reader

Lastly: he has like two days in the upcoming kinktober event. Maybe an add to possibility ft Poison Ivy

A/N: My undiagnosed ADHD won’t let me write things in order so that’s the reason why most of my stuff takes a while and/or sits in my drafts for ages (Ex: I have Bruce Hc’s that have been done for weeks…) Also, thanks for the ask! I had all of these all over the place this def helped me organize it all.

#Oooh I can use this as a masterlist too #uh random bullshit go!#tim drake x reader #Special sorry to ya who follow me for my bnha stuff most of your asks are outlined T.T

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dfortrafalgar · 5 months

Text

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. (Me: i'm going to take a few days off to rest my head and proofread! Also me: *literally cannot rest without posting another chapter*)

The final arc of this story has officially begun!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Chapter 21

[Prev] [Next]

Law knew exactly what was in the large, secured envelope the second he pulled it out of his mailbox in the lobby. A large stamp accompanied by a handwritten address bar and an official wax seal holding the packet together made his grands grow clammy with anxiety as he took the elevator back up to the apartment, dreading opening the parcel to reveal the contents inside. He hadn’t even consumed anything from the hefty packet in his hands, but already he was plagued with an overwhelming guilt. With trembling fingers, he hunched over the kitchen counter and pulled the seal off of the envelope, flipping it open and removing the papers contained within.

New World Healthcare Dear TRAFALGAR D. WATER LAW, On behalf of your colleagues at New World Healthcare, we are delighted to invite you as an esteemed guest to the annual International Medical Multi-Specialty Conference hosted this year in Wano Kuni’s Flower Capital from August 15th - August 20th. Due to your extensive contributions to the field of cardiothoracic surgery, you are being offered the opportunity to speak as part of a cardiovascular surgery demonstration panel. We believe that attendees from the world’s most esteemed institutions would benefit greatly from your expertise, and your contribution to the conference will be unparalleled. Please send your notice of attendance to: NEW WORLD HEALTHCARE CORPORATION 321 PORTGAS DRIVE NEW MARINEFORD, NW 00021

“Fuck…” the black-haired man muttered under his breath. His head shot up at the sound of the lock in the front door turning signaling your return from work, watching with a forlorn expression as you pushed open the door and entered your apartment with a smile.

“Oh, hi, baby!” you called excitedly as you kicked off your shoes. You noticed almost instantly how pensive his expression was, however, and you were quick to drop your bag and cross the floor to be by his side. “What’s the matter?”

Law pulled out one of the chairs of your kitchen table, plopping himself down into it with a huff as he passed the letter over to you. He watched through weary eyes as you scanned the paper, taking in the esteemed words of recognition written to him by his hospital’s conglomerate. He pinched the bridge of his nose in his fingers, trying to fight the tension headache that was brewing in his frontal lobe.

“Law, this is amazing!” you cheered, pulling out another chair to sit across from him. “This is such an honor to speak at a conference this big!” You gazed at your husband, concern flushing your features. “Why are you upset? This is a dream come true for you.”

Your husband trailed his hand down his face before it dropped onto the wooden table with a thunk. “I know… it’s just… that’s the week you’re supposed to have your transfer done.”

Your own expression fell at the revelation, your heart aching at the sight of your husband’s uncomfortableness with not being able to be with you during your egg implantation procedure. You had already started your ovarian stimulation injections a few days prior, and Law insisted on being able to make as many of your appointments as he could, not wanting to miss a single event with you after your second miscarriage. He wasn’t there to protect you, and he’d be damned if he let you suffer alone ever again should anything happen.

“Baby…” you called, reaching your arm over the table to grasp his hand. “I wouldn’t want you to miss this event just because of me. This is such an incredible opportunity, one you’ve dreamed about since you were in medical school!”

“I know…” your husband sighed, taking your hand and brushing his inked digits over the glass ring on your right ring finger. “I just… I just don’t feel good… missing your procedures.”

His words made you stand from your seat, walking around the table to sit in the chair closest to him so you could fully grasp his hand, tethering yourself to his nervous form. “Law, look at me,” you pleaded.

Your husband’s anxious, golden eyes flicked over to your face, assessing your features. You were focused, concentrated, almost daring in your expression.

“I have our friends to help me if I need it. I could always have Ikkaku or Shachi or Penguin come with me for the transfer and help out with the dog. I know you want to be there, and I want nothing more than for you to be there, too. But I also don’t want you to miss this opportunity just because of me,” you explained.

“It wouldn’t be ‘just because of you,’” he sighed, repeating your words. “Nothing I do for you is ‘just because.’”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your chest clenching. You hadn’t even realized how inwardly self deprecating your phrase had been, but even still, you clung to your resolve. “I know… I just really wouldn’t feel comfortable if you passed up this chance. I can tell you want to go, Law. I can see it.”

Law’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as his steely eyes darted away from your gaze. He clenched your hand harder.

“I want you to go and experience this. We’ll be able to call each other every single day, and I’ll send you constant updates and pictures. It’ll be like you never left!” you explained, hoping to draw some relief or contentment out of your husband’s clearly troubled mind.

Your enthusiastic grin did, in fact, do wonders to loosen Law’s worries as you watched his shoulders hunch ever so slightly and his jaw unclench. He released a deep sigh from his lungs as he leaned into you, touching your shoulder with his. “You’d really be okay if I left for that week?”

You nodded. “I’d be even more okay if you brought me home some authentic snacks from the Flower Capital!”

Law’s lips finally curled into that genuine smile you loved so much as he snorted out a laugh at your request. “I’ll need to bring an extra carry-on bag for all the gifts I can bring home to you.”

You giggled, throwing your arms around your husband’s neck, much more excited at the prospect of him deciding to attend his dream conference. “I’m so proud of you, Law. You’ve become such a big name in the medical world that you’re being invited to speak at a conference…” your voice was almost dreamy as you spoke. “My husband… a big shot in Wano… I almost wish I could go with you just so I can rub it into everyone’s face,” you added with a mischievous smile.

Law pulled you closer to him, lightly pinching his fingers against the soft flesh of your hip and making you squeal in surprise. “I’ll change my phone wallpaper to a picture of you, so if anyone looks they’ll know that I’ve got a smokeshow of a wife waiting for me at home.”

You pulled away from him slightly, a playful pout on your face. “Is your wallpaper not already a picture of me?”

“Nope. It’s a picture of Bepo’s fat ass,” he confirmed.

“Okay, that makes me feel a bit better,” you added. “My wallpaper is a hot character from that anime I’ve been watching.”

Law frowned playfully as he stood from his chair, scooping you into his arms. “I’ll make you regret that.”

“Law!” you yelped, laughing and lightly batting his shoulder as he carried you to your bedroom. “I promise I’ll change it! I promise!”

—

Robin had told you prior to your first ovarian stimulation injection that some side effects common with shifts in hormones could occur, and you were beginning to regret not fully listening to her advice, assuming that the side effects would be similar to a standard period. Especially now that you were finishing your final cycle of injections at home after a brief training period with the needle and syringe.

Oh how wrong you were.

Shachi made a passing comment while stopping over with some food that you seemed more emotional than usual, which rendered you a blubbering, sobbing mess, and left him with a sizable bruise on his bicep from a harsh punch from Penguin. While at work, Usopp made the hellish, poorly thought out decision of asking if you had gained some weight, which sent you crying to the bathroom while Ikkaku chased after you, Nami and Sanji berating your friend and coworker for his rude remark. You were far more fatigued than usual, your headaches being more prominent and far more annoying, and you constantly felt bloated. You tried to get Bepo to step on your stomach in hopes that you could release a rip current of a fart from deep in your bowels, but Law put a stop to that real quick. Which then resulted in another wave of involuntary tears, beyond frustrated at the gas in your abdomen.

On the night following your final injection, you were lying curled up on your side on the couch, sobbing into Law’s lap as he idly petted your hair, leaning his other arm over the armrest of the couch while balancing his chin on his knuckles. A rerun of an old medical drama series was playing on the television.

“Law…” you blubbered, sniffling onto his pants.

“Yes, baby?” he asked, half paying attention to you.

“How have you not left me yet?” you whined. “I’ve been… s-so… annoying…”

Law suppressed a chuckle. “You’re not annoying, love.”

“Yes I ammmm…” you complained, drawing out your words. “I’m hormonal… I can’t wait for this to be over…”

“You’re hormonal, yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re annoying,” he reassured. “Robin told you these side effects might happen. Now that you’re done with your injections, hopefully your symptoms die down soon.”

You rotated slightly, enough to peer up at him through blurry, teary eyes. “Will you still love me if I’m an annoying, cranky pregnant lady?”

Law grinned, mildly amused with the hoops you were jumping through in your hazy, hormonal mind. “Of course I will.”

“Even if I get mad at you for something stupid?” you asked, unaware of just how much validation you were desperate to receive from your doting husband.

“Even if you get mad at me, yes,” he confirmed with a smirk.

“Will you still love me even when I get fat and wrinkly?” you sniffled. “Even when my boobs get saggy?”

Law was restraining every muscle in his body to not laugh at your sorry state. He truly did feel awful for you, that your mandatory injections were making you feel so miserable, but to him, the truth of your questions was undeniable. He was content with constantly reminding you of just how beautiful you were to him, in every stage of life. “I’ll love you even when you’re wrinkly,” he said, gently patting your cheek. “And you’re not fat, you’re beautiful.”

“Can fat be beautiful?” you asked, blinking some stray tears from your eyes.

“Yes, it can be. But I don’t like using that word,” he explained.

“Then what word would you use?”

Law pondered briefly, gazing at your curled up form on his lap. “Healthy,” he responded. “Sexy. Squishy, even.” He punctuated his word by gently squeezing the soft flesh of your waist, making a grin crack onto your lips. To even the playing field, he asked, “Will you love me even when I’m old and wrinkly?”

You sucked in another sharp sniffle. “You’re gonna be so fucking hot when you’re old.”

Your words finally made Law lose his restraint, a laugh forcing its way from his mouth and making him place his free hand over his face to hide his amusement. In one week from now when you were (hopefully) feeling more like your usual self, you were going to be beyond embarrassed remembering what you had said in your vulnerable state. He needed to enjoy this now while he could.

“Alright, sexy, I think you should get some rest,” he cooed, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV.

You looped your arms around his neck, hiding your swollen, flustered face in his shirt collar. “Carry me?”

Law chuckled. “Of course.”

—

“Text me the second you land,” you demanded, holding your husband’s inked hands in your own at the gate outside of the airline security check-in line. It was far too early in the morning for you, but you refused to let your husband leave for his conference without a proper goodbye. “And send me pictures! And call me!”

Law leaned down to peck a kiss on your lips which you happily reciprocated, whining slightly under your breath when he pulled away. “Please send me updates when you can.”

“Of course, baby,” you cooed, your voice gentle and soft as you pulled your husband in for a tight hug. “It’ll only be seven days…”

“Seven days too many…” he sighed back into your neck, squeezing your waist. He reluctantly pulled away from you, shifting his attention to Shachi who awkwardly rocked on his feet from side to side. “And you…”

Shachi’s concealed gaze turned toward Law as he pointed one of his fingers at himself, mouthing, ‘Me?’

“You and Penguin better take good care of her while I’m gone,” he demanded, his voice stern yet still retaining his usual mischievousness he displayed around his best friends.

“Yes, captain!” Shachi called back, holding up a mock salute as if part of a pirate crew.

The sight made you giggle as you rubbed your husband’s arm, leaning upwards to press one last kiss against his cheek. His skin was soft, having just trimmed his facial hair and sideburns that morning in preparation for his trip. You wished he could stay so you could kiss his soft skin all day until his usual scruff grew back, but alas, he had an international crowd to impress. “I love you, baby,” you called.

“I love you, too,” he replied, shouldering his carry-on bag. “See you in seven days.”

“Safe travels, Law!” Shachi called over your shoulder, making you smile.

With one last grin and a wave of his free hand, you watched as he collected his rolling suitcase and proceeded to the security line to enter the airport terminal. You turned your attention toward Shachi, whose chest was puffed out in a prideful display.

“I’m going to be the best damn caregiver to you,” he uttered, jokingly flexing his shoulders.

You laughed, grabbing his arm to lead him back to the airport’s main exit so you could return to your car and grab breakfast somewhere. “Hey now, I’m still able to be independent. Don’t think I’m going to let you take over everything in my house just because of my procedure in a few days!”

Shachi huffed, pulling his car keys out of his pocket as the two of you walked through the small drop-off parking area to his car. You and Law were fortunate enough to afford two fairly decent cars, both of your vehicles being older models of used sedans that you kept very well maintained. Shachi’s car on the other hand was… less well off.

It was a 1995 SUV of some kind. The metal radiator emblem that was previously situated on the front was no longer attached, and there were no indicator decorations on the rear bumper to indicate what make and model the car was. It came with no user manual, and when he purchased it from a random number he found on the side of the road, it was basically given to him free of charge with two completely flat tires and a completely rusted through exhaust. The red-head had done a great deal of work on the beat-up vehicle, completely replacing the interior seats, adding an up-to-date dashboard and radio system, and giving the exterior a few new coats of shiny paint among other technical improvements, but the old beater really showed its age when you watched your friend shove the key into the ignition and twist with the force of a powerlifter to ignite the engine.

The entire car shook as the engine roared to life, the sound almost deafening through the thin metal doors. Out of habit, you grabbed on to the handle built into the inside of the door, a futile attempt at securing yourself. Seat belts could only do so much when the car rattled like a scared dog.

“Still haven’t fixed the shaking yet?” you asked, trying to hide your concern as Shachi yanked on the gear shift, putting the car in reverse and throwing his arm over the back of your seat to exit his narrow parking spot.

“I can’t figure out where it’s coming from,” he replied, annoyance on his tongue. “I’m shocked this stupid thing is still running. Sometimes I feel like the floor is going to give out.”

You tossed a worried glance down at the car’s floor beneath your feet. There were a few discarded food wrappers and plastic water bottles strewn about, a plethora of various colors of crumbs in the small nooks and crannies of the floor and around the fabric floor mat. You made a mental note to not let Shachi take your [hopefully] future child anywhere in his car.

Nevertheless, the car successfully rumbled to the drive through window of a small breakfast restaurant, where you excitedly ordered two coffees and two donuts for the two of you.

Shachi took a generous sip of his coffee as he drove. “So what’s the plan, again? Just so that I know what this week is gonna look like.”

You nodded, taking a small nibble of your donut and washing it down with a sip of your own drink. “Today I’m getting the injection that will trigger my eggs, and on Wednesday I’ll be having the extraction procedure. I chose to stay awake and just use local anesthesia, so you won’t have to worry about me being loopy, but I won’t be able to drive before or after. That’s what I hopefully have you guys for!” The car rattled as Shachi lightly depressed the brakes, driving around morning traffic. “If this car doesn’t kill me before then, anyway.”

“Hey, she’s a beater but she’s still moving!” Shachi pestered back, defending his rusting hunk of metal. He smiled, his toothy grin bringing you a sense of familiar contentment. “Sounds good, though. What kind of process is this, anyway?”

“Do you want the simple explanation or the complicated one?” you asked, placing your coffee into one of your friend’s crumb-filled cup holders.

“Simple, please,” he replied, his voice slightly desperate for an easy-to-digest explanation.

“Basically, I’ve taken some medication to make sure my eggs are mature. Some of them get removed from my body, and they’re fertilized in a dish. When they grow enough, if they grow at all, they’re placed back in my body where they’ll hopefully become a fetus.”

Shachi nodded, though you were unsure if any of what you just said stuck with him. “So where does Law come in?”

“He already had his sperm harvested and frozen,” you responded. You were counting your blessings in your head, though, as neither of you had any idea that Law would be leaving the week of your procedure. Fate must have been on your side when he elected to freeze the sperm that was collected for his second precautionary fertility test.

“Did they have him jack off into a cup or something?” Shachi asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Unfortunately,” you joked in response. You doubted your husband would want to go into the details, knowing the tendency of his best friends to poke fun at his shortcomings, but the thought nevertheless made you chuckle. “Hey, can we stop by the grocery store before we head back to the apartment? I want to pick up a few things.”

Shachi, with his mouth full of donut, flashed you an excited thumbs up. You grinned, taking a delicate sip of your coffee as you gazed out the passenger window, the sun slowly rising above the horizon.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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aziraphales-library · 7 months

Note

Hello! firstly, thank you for your dedication its all so wonderful, I’m very grateful for this account since it can be difficult for me to search for things comfortably, the work you do is lovely<3

I was wondering if there were any canon compliant fics you could direct me to? Just casual stuff built upon the foundations of canon, maybe flashbacks of believable interactions Aziraphale and Crowley could’ve had, or a hangout set after S1 thats not necessarily romantic, but still with that lovable tension they have together in canon! It’s hard for me to find fics that aren’t inherently sexual or that show that intricate relationship they’ve built over the years instead of just mentioning it,,

any p.o.v., I’m also fine with both ficlets and multi-chapter long fics :] Sorry if this ask is too specific!

Hi and thank you! Okay, so I'm hoping these are the kind of fics you're looking for. Various levels of romance and feelings, but all inherently about how they care for and communicate with each other...

De Amore by Aethelflaed (G)

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy...

Papercut by Mirach (T)

When Aziraphale calls Crowley to tell him that he is hurt, the demon rushes to the bookshop to find a perfectly healthy angel - with the exception of a tiny papercut. But Crowley knows - it’s not about the papercut at all. The papercut is just an excuse.

Twin Suns by IneffableDoll (T)

“I thought you were gone,” Crowley mumbled, and it was almost cliché, it was almost the kind of sentimental rubbish he would’ve moaned at had he heard it from someone else. But they were the rawest words he could manage. He’d thought Aziraphale was gone. That was all, and it said everything. *** Directly following their celebratory meal at the Ritz, Aziraphale and Crowley clash with the feelings that struggle to settle after everything they’ve been through. And, in so doing, learn to rely on and communicate with each other in new ways.

The Innovation of Friendship, and the Capacity for Non-Abstract Love by AnonymousDandelion (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages as a pair of affection-starved walnuts fall in platonic love/friendship, struggle to understand their feelings, and struggle even more with expressing those feelings to each other. Featuring six thousand years of loneliness, mutual pining, musings on the nature of friendship and love, and ultimately a happy/hopeful/hug ending.

Something to do with these sacred words by Solshine (T)

Crowley confesses early, and Crowley confesses often. Aziraphale never knows quite what to say.

Between the Lines by cyankelpie (G)

Crowley took a gulp of ale and gestured with the mug. “Love’s a big word. How can you be sure? Humans mistake these things a lot.” “Angels don’t. If they knew I could feel it, maybe they’d try to tone it down a little.” Crowley stopped moving. Aziraphale was still talking, but he couldn’t hear over the pounding of his pulse in his head. “You can feel that?” he said, when he regained enough of his composure to put together a sentence. “Yes, I—” Aziraphale broke off just for a moment, and his eyes flicked down to the table. “Yes, I can feel it, Crowley.” (It's hard being two supernatural entities on opposite sides who are in love with each other. It's even harder knowing that those feelings are returned, and that acknowledging it openly would be disastrous.)

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #communication #fluff #through the ages #canon compliant #mod d

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tiredsmashbros · 1 month

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🍔 TIREDSMASHBROS INTRODUCTION

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ W E L C O M E ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

🌿 howdy! my name is tomm + tsb. i use both he/him and they/them pronouns. i'm queer, demiboy + pan + aroace spectrum, and i am an adult, twenty-one ; jan. 10.

🪵 i'm a comic, furry, and multi-fandom artist. i specialize in digital art primarily, minor wood handcrafts, bracelets, or play on my silly harmonica. currently senior year in college.

🌻 i struggle with dyslexia, i apologize in advance for any minor grammar errors! i'm a bit slow responding to responses + mentions so i'd appreciate some patience.

↳ i speak english + spanish ↳ mexican + el salvadorian + texan

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ C O M I C S ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

MARIO COMICS 🍄 ↳ DONE mario and luigi superstars ; sketch comic ↳ bowuigi rewritten -> DONE, NEED TO EDIT

SMG4 COMICS 🧢 ↳ DONE smg34: lip bite prologue {part one} ↳ DONE smg34: lip bite : chapter one {part two} ↳ smg34: lip bite : chapter two {part three} -> CURRENTLY WORKING ON

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ F A N D O M S ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

SHOWS / FILMS 📺; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ my little pony, south park, animaniacs, looney tunes, mickey mouse, ducktales, felix the cat, bluey, total drama island, grojband, danvs, regular show, gravity falls, ninjago, teenage mutant ninja turtles, moomin valley, how to train your dragon, dragon ball, centuarworld, one piece, naruto, fullmetal alchemist, jojo's bizarre adventures, hlvr:ai, khonjin house, eddsworld, helluva boss, hazbin hotel, lackadaisy, trolls, better call saul/breaking bad, smg4, meta runner, murder drones, fairy oddparents: a new wish, popee the performer, the great gatsby, holes, the sixth sense, kingsman, matilda, beetlejuice, deadpool and wolverine

VIDEO GAMES 🎮 ; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ minecraft, five night at freddy's, cuphead, super mario bros, sonic, undertale, bendy and the ink machine, poppy playtime, baldi's basic, garten of banban, cult of the lamb, friday night funkin, pizza tower, parappa, amanda the adventurer, choo choo charles, epic mickey, rabbits, spyro, rayman, duck season, billie bust up, genshin, wuthering waves, god of war: ragnarok, red dead redemption

NOVELS + COMICS / MANGA 📚 ;{ bold = fixated atm} ↳ scott pilgrim, warrior cats, garfield, charlie brown, ganbare nakamura-kun, heartstopper, goosebumps series, mashle, usagi yojimbo, promised neverland, beastars, show-ha shoten, gokurakugai, + above

MISC ; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ dawko, matpat, fuhnaff, coryxkenshin, dashiexp, isaacwhy, yeptheboys, sam and colby, cg5, peso pluma, welcome home, sherlock & co

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ T S B : S M G 4 A U ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

🍔 most may be familiar with me from my smg4 oc, TSB! a yellow, white, blue, burger-loving, cartoon individual with a propeller hat who's beloved for his silly personality. stick around and attempt to uncover the mysterious lore hidden within this animated maniac! if you want to know more, check out his tags, comics, and spotify playlist !!

↳ #tsb , #tsb askbox , #tsb theories , #tsari , #tsb memes ↳ official tsb reference sheet !!

↳ comic tsb: strange, unpredictable, dangerous! ↳ comic tsb: smg4, why don't you trust tsb with tari? ↳ comic tsb: outfit change w/ mr. puzzles! ↳ fanfic tsb: happy birthday, bluejay [2k] ↳ NEW !! comic tsb: painting tutorial!

💛 thank you for stopping by, and hope you have a wonderful visit !!

#tiredsmashbros #artists on tumblr #introduction #introductory post #intro post #im fancy now #Spotify

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staylovesmiley · 1 month

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Connected~ Chapter 2

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Bangchan x Fem!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; Lumi had been a trainee at JYPE for years. Having entered the company a couple years after Chris the two became good friends, maybe even more. As she watched her best friend finally achieved his dream, the distance between them grew. With her debut date finally set in stone, will the two be able to rekindle their flame or will the connection between them falter?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 Notes; This is an ABO!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; abo!au, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, smut, old friends to lovers, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous Bangchan, Reader is an OC, Mentions of unhealthy dieting(forced by the company), Reader is three years younger than Chan (‘00 liners unite!!)

~two weeks after the survival show~

The air felt heavy as he stood in the doorway to the female omega dorms at the company, eyes wide as he stared at the girl in front of him who had just told him the news that shattered his whole world.

Lumi was gone.

Under the pressure of insuring their debut with all nine members, himself and 8 male trainees he himself had picked to form his pack, he had been so one track minded he hadn’t spoken with the dancer in months. Even after the show ended and they were confirmed to have all made it he felt like he couldn’t slow down even a minute to breath let alone catch up with friends.

That fact now felt like daggers in his chest as he couldn’t even think of how to respond to the omega who stood holding the door open with confusion etched on her face.

The alpha producer had come over to pick Lumi up, take her out for lunch like they used to and show her what he had been working on in the studio while they caught up. He had fully been expecting her to be there waiting for him, even after not speaking for the longest time since they had met, and now knowing he was wrong to have assumed he felt his hopes crushed.

Trainees weren’t allowed cellphones so he didn’t even have a way to contact the omega, and panic began to set in after the initial shock. “What- What do you mean she’s not here anymore? D-Did she get put into a group and moved to the other dorms?” He cling to some sliver of hope that remained, begging in his mind for this to be the case but the younger trainee only shook her head and sighed. Everyone who had been at the company a while knew how close the dancer was with the three producers, Bangchan especially, and they all figured he already knew that she had left the company.

“They aren’t at JYPE anymore, oppa….I’m sorry.” With that they closed the door and left Chan standing there with a lost look in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t go back to the studio where Han and Changbin were waiting for him to return with Lumi so they could all catch up on each others lives and hang out like they used to before the survival show, and he couldn’t go back to the dorm where the rest of the pack would question why he looked so off balance.

Silently, the alpha leader made his way down the halls and into one of the single stall restrooms that were typically meant for staff as the trainees and idols had bigger multi use restrooms on a different floor. He just needed to be alone at the moment.

As soon as the door was closed and the lock clicked into place he let his emotions wash over himself fully.

Broad shoulders shook with the weight of his sobs as the alpha finally let go. Bangchan let himself fall to the floor with his head in his hands as he cried as quietly as he could as to not alert anyone who could be walking by. Try as hard as he did to keep the nine of them together, he forgot someone equally as important to him, to his pack.

With no way to contact her, no way to know if she was okay, he felt emptiness settling in his gut. It had been so long since she had been around him or in the studio that none of her scent even lingered enough to bring him a sense of comfort. Fear entering his mind at the thought of forgetting the smell of fresh roses on a spring day he had come to know as home. That thought alone I kept him in that spot for what felt like an eternity as he let the weight of what he had lost truly hit him.

He had a pack now, and he was set to debut, but was the cost worth it all? He let the sadness turn to determine. Not only did the rest of the kids need him, rely on him as their leader to make a name for themselves, but now he felt he owed it to her for it to not be worth nothing. He would make it for her and he hoped someday to find her. He didn’t know how but he knew that if he ever did then he would never let her go again.

~July 2024~

“What do you mean that THE Bangchan of Stray kids was your best friend before you left JYPE?”

Mani whisper shouted as they sat side by side on the couch in their green room. Lumi sighed, shaking her head at the older’s reaction. “Yes- you knew I was a trainee there for a while…at the same time as most of the group- what’s so unbelievable?” She didn’t mean to come off so passive aggressive, but the dancer was still reeling from seeing faces from her past.

The blue haired singer scooted closer, laying her head on the younger’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I don’t mean anything by it just you never talked about them before��.so I figured maybe they kept the male and female trainees separate or something over there.”

Shaking her head, the younger omega giggled lightly. “No- we still trained together sometimes or took lessons together like at KQ….just they were a lot more strict on monthly evaluations.” The dancer sighed, laying her head atop her member’s. “I’m so nervous….it’s been so long and- I wasn’t expecting to run into them so soon after our debut.” Lumi explained, fiddling with the rings she wore anxiously. “I thought I had more time to prepare what to say to them if we crossed paths-“

The blue haired omega sighed, patting her member’s knee just as her phone began ringing. Upon seeing the caller ID she quickly perked up and grabbed it off the coffee table in front of them. “I’m gonna step out and take this- I’ll be back yeah? Plus I think stray kids is almost done performing so this will give you some privacy with Bangchan?” Lumi nodded, fighting off the cringe at hearing her old best friend called by that name.

She watched as her member left the room, sighing to herself as she looked towards the tv and turned it on just in time to catch the end of their performance.

By the way his face looked as he performed, she felt herself squirm slightly where she was seated as the anger seemed to come off him in waves of steam. His performance was fierce and from a dancers perspective she could read the emotions he was feeling, his concentration set but she wasn’t sure if it was on the performance itself or just using it as an outlet to release the pent up feelings he had.

As the performance ended and it was time for the ending fairy poses the camera panned from one of their youngest members she remembered from trainee days though she could barely remember any specific interactions she had had with the slightly younger male.

Next the camera landed on the alpha that had been plaguing her mind for the time since she saw him in the hall and continued still. He barely reacted at all as his mind seemed to be elsewhere, and she gnawed on the inside of her cheek anxiously as she thought of what it could be he was thinking exactly as she wondered if it had to do with what he wanted to say to her later.

Finally the camera showed the other resident aussie of the group. Lumi remembered him and how he had joined about half a year before her departure. She wasn’t close with him so to speak but as a fellow english speaking trainee as well as a fellow dancer she had shared a few conversations in the practice rooms with the alpha, recalling in her mind how he always seemed to brighten whatever room he entered and filled everyone with a contagious positive energy she was grateful for on more than one occasion as evaluations began getting to her head more and more leading up to her leaving the company.

As she remembered his cheerful attitude during their teen years she couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled a somewhat silly face towards the end right as the screen cut to black. It was nice to see he hadn’t changed much, and she wondered if he remembered anything about her as well, and if it was anything even somewhat as positive as she had remembered him.

She sat impatiently on the couch in their green room, the dancer was messing with the hem of her dress anxiously as she anticipated how exactly the conversation with Chan would go.

Just as she was about to give up on waiting, figuring he didn’t actually care to talk with her and only said so to save face in front of the beta and omega who had embraced her warmly while he stood as cold as ice just watching from a distance, there was a knock before the door was pushed open.

Lumi jumped up, straightening her clothing and combing through her hair with her fingers quickly until she saw who came through the door and her face fell slightly. Changbin gave a soft smile as he approached the omega, pulling her back into his arms as he had before which she accepted fully. “Hey baby, expecting someone else I’m guessing?” He questioned as he pulled back and motioned to the disappointed expression she still wore.

A slight huff escaped her as she shook her head, giving the omegan rapper a bright smile. “Nope! You are exactly who I need to see right now, actually.” Lumi pulled him back into a tight embrace and buried her face in the crook of his neck to inhale his sweet scent and allow it to calm her nerves as it used to in their teenage years.

The pair of omegas had been pretty close, almost as much as with Chan but it was different. With them sharing a rank, it made it easier to talk about things their Alpha and Beta friends wouldn’t understand as well as they would as omegas. This special bond had lead to many nights shared curled up on the couches in the commons rooms at the building where the dorms were located, sharing experiences they’d had since presenting and discussing other omega related struggles that the others just wouldn’t understand.

Now, Lumi clung to him almost like a lifeline as her mind began to slow down from the spiral that began when she first saw Bangchan back in the halls. The older omega held her, letting the dancer scent him as he did so in return until finally she felt calm enough to pull away. “Thank you- I just…” the older shook his head, silencing the younger with a finger he held up between them. “I get it, I think. It’s been a long time…and whatever reason you had for leaving I’m sure it was a good one. You don’t have to explain anything to me now if you don’t want to, I’m just happy to see you again.”

The dancer couldn’t help but tear up as she smiled, grateful for her old friend’s understanding and not pushing her to share the feelings she had buried for so long just yet. “Thanks Binnie- I appreciate you so much.” After another round of hugs and mild scenting the rapper pulled away and wiggled his eyebrows at the younger omega. “I didn’t come here without a mission though…this is your debut stage yeah?”

Lumi nodded, giving him a questioning look before motioning for him to continue. “You teach me the key point dance for a tiktok challenge and I’ll teach you ours!” You gasped, clapping your hands excitedly at the prospect. You had completely forgotten that that was something your company had tasked you with, asking other idols back stage to do Eclipse’s dance challenge as a way to boost exposure for the group and get your name out there more as so many other idols did. You already had pre recorded ones with a few different members from ateez before they had left for their tour, back when they first had their comeback for their new album Golden Hour, knowing that was the only chance you or Mani would have with them to do it even though you hadn’t debut yet.

“I love that plan, yes! Okay help me push this couch a little more out of the way and I can teach you-“ She was giddy at the prospect of teaching him the dance she had helped choreograph, excited to see him perform it along side her like they were trainees again goofing off in the practice room when they should have been focusing on their monthly evaluations but instead made up their own dances to teach each other for fun during any free time they could find.

Once they both felt confident with each other’s dance, the two exited the green room in search for one of their managers to film the challenges for them. After a while of wandering around, Changbin lead her back towards where their green room was and finally caught sight of one of the stray kids managers.

With their help, they were able to film the videos pretty quickly and once it was over the omegas were all giggles and loud banter (mostly from Changbin) that seemed to alert the members who resided in the room which they had been filming outside of.

Because of the noise, a head peeked out from the door and the omegan dancer was startled by the deep voice that spoke to her from behind. “Hi Lumi! You know, I’m kinda sad you didn’t ask me to do your dance challenge with you.” With her hand clutched to her chest she whipped around to face the alpha with wide eyes. “Jesus, Felix give a warning next time instead of sneaking up behind me like that, yeah?” This caused the silver haired idol to laugh as he moved in for a hug.

Lumi allowed it, leaning into the embrace as the thick smell of chocolate liquor filled her senses. She remembered the other dancer being quite touchy as a person and as a somewhat touch related person herself she didn’t mind the physical contact even if they hadn’t been as close as her and the others back during their trainee days. “How have you been?” She asked, allowing the alpha to nuzzle his face into her hair to inhale the smell of roses mixed with her shampoo and whatever products the stylists had used on her.

She was sure she probably smelled heavily of the omega from his group from how much they had been scenting each other earlier in her green room but the alpha didn’t seem to mind much seeing as he pulled away with a smile that could have rivaled the sun. “I’ve been good! Curious how you’ve been, how does it feel to finally debut?” Lumi giggled, bouncing a bit on her heels as she looked up slightly to hold eye contact with the man.

“It’s like I’ve always dreamed- I honestly was so afraid this day would never come but it’s here and I don’t think it will ever feel real.” She began rambling, not realizing that Felix began walking backwards into the room and Changbin’s hands on her hips gently guided her to follow. She was so wrapped up in describing her feelings about her debut that she didn’t realize they were now inside the stray kids green room until she heard the click of the door closing behind her. “Binnie-?”

The omega turned to see the purple haired rapper leaning against the door now with arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face as he nodded towards somewhere else in the room. Her eyes followed the gesture to where Bangchan was sat on the couch with his head in his hands. Oh. Oh they had tricked her and she played right into their hands.

~rewind to about half an hour or more earlier~

He was a complete wreck.

Chan hadn’t been expecting to see her like that after all this time, he never thought he’d see her again.

His mind was all over the place, trying to focus on the performance at hand and not mess anything up as it was their first stage of the comeback. The alpha had a responsibility to not disappoint their fans, or the kids, or the company. Some things never changed and the weight he felt on his shoulders, the pressure to hold it all together was still there from his trainee days.

Chan took his spot on the stage, unable to shake the feelings building in his chest as his thoughts were filled with what ifs.

What if she wasn’t going to wait for him after his performance and once again disappear from his life? That was the biggest one and it caused hurt and anger to flood his emotions. After all this time and she was an idol after all. He had thought he could live with the fact that the omega chose to live a more simple life and that they wouldn’t likely never cross paths again but now it was as if she were a ghost coming to haunt him.

The image of honey blonde hair and the heart shaped smile that had greeted him countless times at his studio during his teen years, it caused his heart to clench and he had to shake his head several times to clear it just before the music began.

Through the whole performance all he could think about was how frustrating it was that he had to be on the stage right now and couldn’t be talking to her right then.

The alpha desperately wanted to know where she had been and he felt as if he would remain restless until that had been answered. That and why she had left at all. It didn’t help that the omega’s scent lingered on his fellow producers from where they had embraced her warmly before they went on to perform, traces of roses that only added to the feeling that she was haunting him, like a poltergeist in his heart that would never go away no matter how hard he tries to concentrate and it was angering him that he couldn’t get his thoughts under control.

Once the music had ended the the roar of stays in the audience could be heard, it took everything within him not to bolt off the stage to find her. He barely registered the camera panning over to his face, only mustering the strength to turn his head and give it an almost blank stare as he caught his breath.

Once they were allowed to leave the stage his nerves seemed to catch up with him. “Hyung, aren’t you going to meet with Lumi?” Han had questioned, head tilting slightly to the side with his confusion as once back in the green room the oldest only began pacing back and forth instead of going to find their old friend as he had originally planned. “What if-“

Chan ran his hands through his hair as he continued to pace, taking a shaky breath. “What if she left already? What if she doesn’t want to talk to me and only said she’d meet me because she was put on the spot? What if she-“ Changbin sighed, standing up and heading for the door. “Calm down, hyung. I’ll go talk to her first. Okay? Omega to omega. If she’s still here then I’ll bring her back, yeah?”

The alpha wasn’t so sure about this idea but nodded nonetheless and allowed the omegan rapper to go down the hall to find her. Chan continued to pace back and forth as he continued to fidget, mind racing so fast he felt nauseous. It was when the smell of soured vanilla extract started to seep off of him that the second oldest stepped in, the younger alpha pushing gently on his leader’s shoulders until he was sat on the couch in front of him.

“Look I don’t know what’s gotten to you exactly but you need to pull yourself together, hyung.” Minho spoke firmly, hands still placed on the older’s shoulders as he nodded for Jeongin to come and sit beside the pack leader. The youngest nodded, understanding what his hyung was trying to say with his eyes and sat beside the oldest while pushing his scent out to try and calm the pack leader with the warm smell of fresh baked apples.

After a while the oldest relaxed slightly and it was enough for the others to ease off him a bit. Minho sighed and moved to sit on the coffee table in front of the oldest. “What is it about that omega that has you such a wreck, huh? She your ex?” This caused Chan’s head to whip up to stare wide eyed at the second oldest. Han laughed from across the room, almost doubling over from the question. “He wishes he had the balls to get that far with her!” The younger said through fits of laughter.

The low growl that left their leader caused the oldest beta to bite his lip and calm his amused outburst. “I forget you never really met her, jagi.” He said, coming to sit on the chair beside the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. “Lumi was a trainee at the company from back before any of us joined. Her and Channie hyung were like super close. Before the survival show, when it was only 3racha she was always at the studio with us so we got close with her too eventually and we were all like best friends!” Jisung smiled, thinking back to all the fond memories he had from back then.

Minho nodded, blinking a bit as he attempted to recall if he had ever seen you around the company back when he had first joined. “She used to not have pink hair…and she was just a teenager back then like us so she looks a lot different now. I think she left right when you became a trainee, if I remember right.” Chan shook his head, speaking up finally.

“She was a dancer, mainly….you probably knew of her somewhat, Minho. You would have been there for about a month before she left. Her hair was blonde, a warm kind of blonde though and she would get really frustrated when she couldn’t get a dance just perfect.” He began speaking without really thinking, trying to see if the other alpha would remember the girl who he had memorized the habits of for years.

Minho smirked slightly, tilting his head to the side as he looked at their leader. “Keep going, I think I’m starting to remember.” He teased, causing the alpha to look up at him with a glare before placing his head in his hands. “Forget it. None of that matters now- I just….I need to why she left. She was there one day, I saw her in another one of the practice rooms while I was heading to meet you guys about stuff to do with the survival show and then a few weeks later she was just gone.”

Everybody held a somber expression, especially those who had known of her and what she meant to their leader. At the sound of laughter in the halls outside of the green room doors, everyone shared a look as Chan let his head fall back into his hands as his mind continued to swarm with questions and emotions about seeing the omega again.

Felix had been the one to check on what the sound was, thus leading to where she was now staring at the alpha that she had left all those years ago as he slowly raised his head to meet her gaze. “Chris-“ her voice was soft, hesitant. Chan stood up suddenly, stepping toward her cautiously as if one wrong move would spook her and she’d up and disappear in to thin air.

“Lumi, please….can we talk?” The omega too a deep, shaky breath. Changbin may have let her off the hook on explaining herself but she knew that wouldn’t be the case with the alpha in front of her. “Sure. Just- um…follow me?”

With a nod in agreement, he motioned for her to lead the way and soon Lumi was headed down the halls back to Eclipse’s green room with Bangchan following closely behind.

On the way they passed by Mani who seemed to still be on the phone even after all this time. She gave a thumbs up and a bright smile to the younger omega who in return flashed her a very anxious smile before opening the door to the green room, stepping aside to allow Chan inside. Here goes nothing, she thought to herself as the dancer silently tried to prepare for all the questions he likely had for her.

author’s note: waahh more suspense I know I’m sorry the talk will happen next chapter I promise~ I also think at least for the first handful of chapters I’m gonna put different little flashbacks in the beginning from random different trainee times but like they are somewhat relevant to the rest of the chapter?? Kinda like foreshadowing in a way what is to come? Lmk if that’s an idea you all like! I won’t be able to do it for every chapter obviously but I have a few more scenes from the past I wanna add at the beginning of different chapters so pls I live for feedback it makes my day to hear from you all honestly~

taglist; @coastinglove @breadedloafs

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f-imaginings · 3 days

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how goes the next chapter of KMKY? i am super keen for more, but obvs take your time!

hi bud! I am 43 pages into the next chapter and it's going well! Here is a tiny sneak peak of the D&D scene!

Having set up a rudimentary game with the graph paper lying around in the lab, Stanford was having an excellent time.

Dipper had brought the board game downstairs, with the rule book, and several key decision cards scattered around the gridded board on the dirt floor of the lab. Having just completed their character sheets, the adventure was about to begin.

“Okay, so my character is a human wizard slash artificer - battlesmith and order of scribes respectively - with an archivist background and I’ve juuust finished my ability scores.” Dipper scribbled on his character sheet, before throwing the sheet down between them. “Boosh!”

“Is that what the kids are saying these days? Boosh?” Ford queried idly, picking up Dipper’s character sheet to read through it.

“Oh, uh, Wendy – I mean, someone really cool said it once and I guess I just kind of picked it up. It’s not like everyone’s saying it.” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to play it off.

“It was hard enough keeping track of the popular slang back in the 80s.” Ford rubbed his chin, impressed by Dipper’s clever allocation of his ability points. “I guess a lot can change in 30 years. I like that you chose artificer for your class. My old friend Fiddleford used to choose artificer too, but he was always more of an alchemist than a battlesmith.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense.” Dipper frowned, looking down at his notepad. “You two were really close then.”

“As thick as thieves.” Ford confirmed with a nod, filling out his own character sheet. “Before everything with the portal came to a head of course. And – there, that’s my character sheet done.”

Reaching over to read through it, all thoughts of McGucket set aside in favour of the game, Dipper blinked at Ford’s character sheet, surprised.

“Warlock/Fighter multiclass? Really?” He looked between Ford’s ready grin, and the character sheet, squinting at the details. “Shouldn’t your charisma stats be higher than intelligence if you’re playing a warlock. Charisma is the spell modifier.”

“I’ve never really understood why it’s not an intelligence class myself, but given the scope for multi-classing, I can leverage both classes and become an eldritch knight. There’s not a lot a good eldritch blast can’t take care of, in my experience. It’s just like a laser gun!”

“Fair enough.” Dipper shrugged, moving his character piece around on the board. “Great Uncle Ford, how did you get other people to play this game with you? I keep thinking Mabel would love to play this, but I just can’t convince her. I get the feeling she would be a bard, if she gave it a shot. And Wendy could totally be a Ranger!”

“Stanley mentioned Mabel is musically inclined.” Ford rubbed his chin, considering his past attempts to get others to play with him. Stanley never did, choosing instead to mock him, and the only other person he successfully coerced to play was Bill, but he never truly committed to the experience. “You could always try bribery, that sometimes works.”

“And bribe her with what?” Dipper shook his head, before sighing. “Never mind. At least I get to play with you.”

“Are you ready?” Ford questioned, bringing Dipper’s focus back to the board, picking up the 38-sided die and rolling it between his knuckles.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Dipper said gamely, crossing his legs more comfortably beneath him.

“Alright.” Ford waved his hand across the board, sitting behind the cardboard cut out of Probabilitor the Annoying, setting the scene. “The reigning monarch of the land of Mathematica has put out a call for mercenaries across the land to take up a quest to rescue his daughter, Princess Unattainabelle from the devious clutches of the King’s arch enemy, Probabilitor the Annoying, the worst wizard in all of the land. Your task, should you prove worthy, is to gather your party and venture forth into the Algebraic Swamplands, to Probabilitor’s castle deep within his dominion, and brave his radius of evil to find the Princess and rescue her from his sweaty clutches. Your quest’s probability of success is –“

Ford paused to roll the 38 sided die, the die landing on 21.

“Not bad. Could definitely be worse.” Dipper remarked.

“You’re telling me. Once Fiddleford rolled a two.” Ford barked a laugh, remembering the campaign fondly.

“Now that’s playing on hard mode.” Dipper grinned. “21 should be a walk in the park, comparatively.”

“I like those odds.” Ford shared a grin with his great nephew, delighted at their shared conspiratorial joy with the game. “So, you’re in the tavern on the edge of the Swamplands, your character has accepted the quest. What do you do now?”

#knowing me knowing you #a sneak peak as a special gift #this is the scene i'm working on rn. i have 40 other pages of content before it that i think you're all going to enjoy #plus a billford concept i haven't seen nearly enough in art that i'm hoping will kick off after the chapter comes out #a real reading between the lines in the journal reference for the folks who are into that #but now we have ford and dipper bonding over dnd #enjoy!

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acescorazon · 11 months

Note

Buggy x Mihawk x Crocodile prompt: Mihawk and Crocodile's bullying and beatings start taking a toll on Buggy, especially since he's somehow fallen irrevocably in love with both his "business partners". After a incident where Crocodile goes too far and Mihawk actually intervenes to stop him, Buggy falls fully into despair and decides to fully fall into the ocean to certain death. He waits until late at night and sneaks off to the docks. He falls in and expects the end but just as everything goes dark he sees a pair of golden eyes and hands reaching for him. When Buggy opens his eyes again he's very much alive, with Mihawk and Crocodile keeping vigil over him. Mihawk is mighty pissed and Crocodile is uncomfortable in his guilt. They figure things out eventually, messily and all.

Bestie if you didn't read this post, this is for you (as well as some of my other anons/ ppl who sent in requests ) LOL (it explains my shenanigans.)

ANYWAYS!!! Bby your idea...she's giving slow burn...she's giving...make it hurt...She's giving multi-chapter series realness. She deserves so much more than a one shot. She's a star who deserves to shine brightly...and i'm giving her what she deserves LOL. i don't have a title, so fuck it we ball, but consider this a prologue since it just really goes over Cross Guild's past briefly. So for anyone about to read,i'm not telling you how to live your life, but i'm juuuust saying you might want to have read up to like Ch 1082?

The sounds of canons being fired and screaming can be heard all over the island, and Buggy swears that he’s moments away from having a full blown panic attack. Why now? Why did they suddenly decide to abolish the warlord system? Buggy was just starting to enjoy his newfound power and, more importantly, protection. His men keep screaming at him, begging for him to do something because Buggy’s so strong and powerful, and mighty after all. He sailed the sea with Gol. D Rogers, Dark King Rayleigh, and a young Red Haired Shanks after all. He ‘led’ a prison escape after all. He ‘fought’ in the war after all… He’s the one who’s a former warlord of the sea after all… Buggy must be a formidable foe, right? Buggy must be able to bring him and his men to victory, right? Buggy can take on some marines…right…?

Buggy watches in horror as a fleet of marines attack his battle ships, sinking them, as they gradually begin to encircle the entire island. Oh, they’re doomed. His men are still yelling at him, asking him questions that he can barely process at the moment because he can’t breathe let alone talk.

“Chairman Buggy, what are your orders, sir?!”

”Chairman Buggy, the marines just sank another one of our ships.”

“Captain Buggy, why are you just standing there?!”

“Chairman Buggy, do something!!”

“Captain!!!”

Buggy’s…Buggy’s got to go, like, right now. He can’t handle this. He doesn’t know what to do, this attack happened so fast… He swears the world government abolished the warlord system just this morning, and they already have marines on their ass. He needs off this island before it burns down and he turns to ash with it. He hopes and prays that he still has at least one good ship that he can escape on, and as for his men…

God, Buggy can’t do this. He can’t do this. The amount of men he controls has grown considerably after the war, and he can’t’ confidently say he can evacuate everyone on the island, not that he thinks anyone wants to leave in the first place. His kids are all dedicated and always willing to fight…(Buggy wishes he can say the same.)

Screw it, he’s calling for that evacuation order.

“Chairman Buggy, someone’s attacking the marines!” Someone’s attacking the marines…? Did Buggy have men out at sea that are now returning home and diligently attacking the marines now that they see the island is under attack? Does he have any allies who were conveniently on their way to visit, when they noticed the marines were attacking them? Is this just another group of pirates who noticed the marines and wanted to make a name for themselves, so they decided to attack them while they just so happened to be attacking Emptee Bluffs Island? Who are the heroes saving Buggy and his children?!

“Hey! It’s Crocodile!”

“Chairman Buggy, Crocodile is here to save us!!”

As soon as Buggy hears that name, his stomach drops. No, why? Why now? Why is this all happening to him now? There’s only one reason why Crocodile would be coming to Emptee Bluffs island, and Buggy…Buggy needs to leave. Forget his men, they’ll be fine, Buggy’s the one whose life is in grave danger. In all honesty, he’d rather be facing the Marines than have to deal with Crocodile’s wrath.

Buggy leaves the tent where he makes all his official announcements to his men, and his men watch him, confused, as he tries to make his escape. Some of them even mindlessly try to follow him, and Buggy doesn’t have the heart to tell the men following him to leave him alone because they’ll just bring unneeded attention to Buggy while he tries to flee. He makes it two, no, three steps out of the tent before he sees him, heading his way. “AHHH!” Buggy screams at the top of his lungs, instantly, spinning back around on his heels and trying to push through a crowd of men, “Let me through! Let me through!!!” He orders them, trying to get back inside his tent and hide.

“Chairman…What’s wrong…it’s just Crocodile?”

It is not just Crocodile. Do his men not realize how scary this man is? Do they not realize that their beloved Chairman and Captain is moments away from getting his ass beaten? Buggy forces himself through all the bodies in front of him and rushes back into the tent, but it’s too late.

“Running away, Buggy?” He hears a deep, intimidating voice call out from behind him. Ah, so it looks like this is the end of the road for Buggy, huh…? What does he do now, he doesn’t think he can out run Crocodile…

Beg for mercy?

Buggy slowly turns around, waving nervously at Crocodile, “Uh, hey!” He greets him, voice already shaking as he speaks. He’s going to scream, cry, and vomit, and all in that order. “I wasn’t running away… I was just, uh…” he trails off, unsure of what excuse he could possibly use in this situation because Crocodile saw him make a run for it with his own eyes. He notices belatedly that Crocodile has that other tall, slightly less intimidating but still extremely scary, fellow with him…Daz…? They all escaped prison together, didn’t they? And…There’s also…Mihawk? Why is Mihawk with him?

Crocodile’s cold voice brings Buggy crashing back down to reality, “Whatever. Where’s my money, clown?” Where’s his money…right…Right…the money that Buggy borrowed after the war, and most definitely has right now… That money…

(He’s lucky if he even has money for lunch.)

Buggy forces a bright smile onto his face, “Y-your money?!” he repeats, trying to buy himself some more time while he figures out an excuse that’ll save his ass. “Well.. You see.. about that…” he’s just about to start babbling bullshit when Crocodile narrows his eyes at him, giving him the nastiest look. Oh! Okay! “Crocodile, please.” Buggy whines, “Look around, I have so many kids to feed…and… and It’s not exactly like business has been booming…and, and…I just lost my biggest money makers…and…”

Buggy’s never been one to admit his failures, but this is a matter of life or death, and truth be told, Buggy’s delivery service hasn’t been doing too hot lately, but he just needs a little bit more time! He… He can fix everything, and get Crocodile his money back. “Please, just...Give me a month…” He begs, and Crocodile gives him that look again. Oh, okay! That’s obviously way too much time! “Three weeks, give me three weeks and I’ll have all your money… plus interest…”

Truth be told there’s no way in hell he’d ever be able to repay Crocodile the amount of money he owes him in that amount of time, and he sure wouldn’t be able to pay him interest on top of everything, but he… he just needs an excuse. If Crocodile believes him, then… Then as soon as he gets the chance, he’ll pack up and leave. He’ll dye his hair and change his name, and…

Crocodile scowls at him, “You’re saying you don’t have my money?” Well, no…but, yes… but, no he’s definitely not saying anything like that…what… what he is saying is that he’s broke right now, and just needs a little bit more time… “That’s fine.” Crocodile tells him, despite still having a terrifying look on his face, and there’s a moment where Buggy’s filled with hope. Is...is his life saved? “I can just sell you.” Crocodile says the words, ‘I can just sell you.’ nonchalantly, and like Buggy isn't human, like…like he’s nothing more but an object, and like his life has no meaning to it. God, what did Buggy get himself into?

“Hey…Hey…Croccy, baby…Hey!” Buggy raises his hands up. Is it hot in here? Is Buggy the only one sweating right now? “We’re friends…remember? We escaped Impel down together remember?!” he stammers, trying to remind Crocodile of all the good times they shared together like….when they… well, uh, there was that one time where they… and then there was that other time when they… Oof.

Buggy is the one using his powers to make himself look ten times bigger than he should actually be right now, but for some reason, he still feels so small especially as he picks up the not so subtle shifts in Crocodile’s expression. He goes from slightly irked, to fully annoyed, to looking like he’s moments away from ripping Buggy to shreds. “Oh, I remember, but I need my money now. I’m starting a new company and I need that money, clown.” Crocodile announces, and Buggy’s not sure how much longer he has before Crocodile snaps and beats him within an inch of his life. “If you can’t pay me back now, you need to make up for the money you’ve borrowed in other ways. Understand?”

Buggy swallows hard. God, what now? What does he say now? He considers making a run for it again, when all of a sudden an idea forms in his gigantic brain, “Oh!” He exclaims, “I know! I know! I can be your errand boy, or something,” he suggests, “I can work off my debt to you!” Crocodile’s cold, harden expression remains on his face, until Buggy casually stammers out:

“I…I have men who can give your new company the flashiest debut possible! My men can do it all: printing, design, advertisement, you name it…Just please don’t kill me!”

…

Somehow Buggy survives his encounter with both The Marines and Crocodile…Don’t ask him how, he’s always had the stupidest of luck. It doesn’t matter though, as soon as Buggy gets the okay from Crocodile, he’s looking for the best choice among all his men to design a flyer for their, well, Crocodile and Mihawk’s new company; Cross guild, hm, it’s got sort of a ring to it.

Buggy finds a few of his men and orders them to design and distribute a flyer for Cross Guild, and tells them to make it look flashy…because if it’s not, Buggy can kiss his life and or freedom goodbye.

Okay, that should keep Crocodile off his ass for a couple of days, right…? It’ll take his men a few days to design a breath taking flyer and then distribute it, and then Crocodile will see that Buggy’s actually a really useful guy after all!

That’s how Buggy thought things would go at least.

Buggy’s most devoted followers make a flyer for Cross Guild in a day and a half, taking pride in the fact that they didn’t stop for a break even once during the process, and the results are: Terrifying. As soon as he sees the poster, Buggy knows that he’s doomed and that what little chance he had at surviving and living a somewhat decent life was gone. It’s not like the flyer is poorly designed…it’s just… Buggy’s face is sort of… for lack of better terms... his men made it so that Buggy was in the center of attention while the other two look like an after thought, and that’s…that’s not what he wanted.

Buggy’s just an errand boy!

As soon as he sees Cross Guild’s debut flyer, Buggy feels violently ill again, like he’s going to throw up his breakfast, and he quickly orders his men to redesign the flyer so that Buggy doesn’t get killed, but they...

“Oh, we already distributed it.”

Okay, don’t panic. Don’t panic, maybe there’s time to fix this..or at least run away before Crocodile and Mihawk see the flyer. Buggy exhales a shaky breath, trying to figure out what he’s going to do about this whole flyer situation. Is...is there any way to just…just, make all the flyers go away? No? It doesn’t work like that?

Fuck.

[Next Part]

#one piece #cross guild #asks #my writing #i aint tagging shit #cw: crocodile #LMAO #Also ily pookie this whole series will be on tumblr for you #and if nobody likes it but us at least we have each other #changes

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theangelcatalogue · 3 months

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❝ You can't see me behind the screen! ❞ ― ABOUT THE BLOG

❝ I'm half human and half machine! ❞

Hello, I see you found my post! Keep scrolling, or read it! It's your choice!

Ah! You decided to read it! Welcome to my blog!

About the mythic bitch(Aka me, the owner, Heathers reference) :

Name/Nicknames: Abbey, Sky, Richie, Duke, i have too many nicknames! You can see me more at my about me post, this part is just a resume!

Age: 14 years old! Yes, i'm a minor <3

Pronouns: Any!

Location: Brazil!

What i don't write for/What you won't find here:

Homophobic content, Transphobic content, Xenophobic content, Islamophobic content, etc.

Misogynistic content

Racist content, sexist content, ableist content, discrimination content, etc.

Content that invalidates a character's pronouns, gender or identity!

Pedophile, Sexualizes Minors, Yandere x child Y/N(unless is Platonic!), Jokes About R×pe, etc.

Comship, Darkship, Proship, etc.

Nsfw/Smut, i'm not really into it, sorry!

Yandere Y/N, sorry Yandere Y/N lovers!

What I Write:

Yandere fanfiction! This is a blog only for yandere x reader content, so no Yandere Reader or Yandere character X Yandere character!

Headcanons, Oneshots, Love Letters, Imagines, Multi chapter fanfics and many other! Just request and i will try my best! :D

Team ups, poly or rivals? Why not! (I personally love writing Team ups or Yandere Vs Yandere is so ksosoakkskaoap)

Romantic and Platonic! Maybe even both! Exemple: Yandere team up with one being romantic and other being platonic

My fandom list/masterlist is here! But i also write for my ocs! ^^

What to expect here:

Not so regular updates, and things made by a bored teenager

Musicals

Writing prompts and a bunch of weird ideas

Musicals

Me saying random shit

Musicals

Reblogs of things i like

Musical- Wait i already said that, didn't i?

Others:

Feel free to send me asks, vents, ideas messages, requests, etc! My askbox is open! Don't be shy angel! <33 (Say the one that is scared to even breath wrong near people)

If you don't like me content, it's okay! You can unfollow anytime! Or just ignore my blog! Tumblr it's a huge place with many blogs, i promise that you will find one with things you love!

Thanks for reading! Your lucky number is 7. You will soar to great heights. Be sure to ride The Cyclone! Wait- Wrong musical- Anyways!

I hope you enjoy my content!

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rinchfest · 1 year

Text

Coming this September to an internet near you: Rinch Fest 2023, a ship week for Harold Finch/John Reese from Person of Interest! This is a low-pressure event meant to encourage the creation of more fanworks for Finch/Reese or Finch & Reese’s friendship. Fic, art, gifs, vids, podfic, you name it—all are welcome, as long as they’re Rinch-centric.

Posting for Rinch Fest will run from September 24 through September 30, 2023

PROMPTS:

Day One – September 24 Huddling for Warmth • Belly • Nesting The Oh of Realization • Hurt/Comfort

Day Two – September 25 Family • Flowers • Food/Drinks/Cooking Time Travel/Loop • "Always"

Day Three – September 26 Pets/Animals • Road Trip • Beach Cabin in the Woods • Music

Day Four – September 27 Dancing • Bookshop • Declaration of Love Surprises • Retirement

Day Five – September 28 The Machine • Only One Bed • Bird Watching Mutual Pining • "Five+1"

Day Six – September 29 Power Outage • Outsider POV • Boundaries Wedding/Marriage • Gender

Day Seven – September 30 Free-For-All/Catch-Up Day

Keep reading for more info!

Who’s running this? ArgylePirateWD. Hi!

Any changes since last year? More prompts for each day and Finch and Reese friendship works are now allowed.

Why not call it Rinch Week? It started out as Rinch Fest on The Rinch Loft on Discord, and that’s what stuck.

Plus, Rinch Fest and Reese & Finch share the same initials.

Also, don’t be a jerk.

Please warn for the usual AO3 warnings (Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Rape/Non-Con, and Underage) and any subjects others may find deeply unpleasant, and clearly label any NSFW works.

What about poly? Gen? Poly is wonderful, but this is a Finch/Reese or Finch&Reese event. Sorry.

Finch & Reese gen is allowed!

What do I do with x prompt?/Can I do [insert concept here]? Anything goes! Seriously, however you want to interpret a prompt is fine.

If it fits multiple prompts, when do I post it? Whatever day works best for you!

What if I want to do something NSFW? There's no nsfw prompt this year. Is it still allowed? YES! Bring on the spicy if you want!

What if it doesn’t fit a prompt? That’s what Day 7 is for! :D

Can I work on a previously-posted WIP? As long as it’s finished when you make your post for the event, sure! If you’re just updating a WIP without finishing it, no.

Can I start working now? Absolutely! That’s why I’m announcing it now—so there’s plenty of time for people to make things.

Can I talk about/share previews of what I’m working on? Sure!

Submissions are also open.

On AO3, you can post it here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/rinchfest23/

Do I have to have a Tumblr? AO3? As long as you’re on some kind of platform and can get a link to the work to me somehow so I can share it with the world, you’re welcome to play.

On October 1st, I’ll make a round-up post full of links to all the shiny things people made. If I know you made it, it’ll go in!

What time zone? The daily prompt posts will be going up at 12 am Central Time, but as long as it’s the relevant day for your fill somewhere in the world, go ahead and throw it in!

(And if you want to sneak in some Day 7 things a little after, as long as they get posted before the Master Post goes up… 😉)

Sounds fun! How do I sign up? No signups! Just post your stuff somewhere on the right day(s), and you’re in!

Finally, thank you to everyone who participated last year, and to everyone on The Rinch Loft that contributed prompts for Round 3!

#rinch #harold finch #john reese #person of interest #poi #rinchfest23 #rinchweek23

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fawism · 1 year

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From Dusk 'Til Dawn

Summary: When life gives you lemons, you don't make lemonade. You run for your life and pray that you'll make it out alive of this godforsaken, mass-infected land.

Pairings: Leon Kennedy/reader, Luis Serra/reader, Ada Wong/reader, slight Ashley Graham/reader

Word count and tags: at least 4k / canon-typical violence and your usual RE4R warnings. Slow burn, friendship, awkward flirting, attempt at humor err, slight angst/comfort for future chapters. SPOILERS!!

A/N: This is a multi-chapter fic just a heads up. I also published it in AO3 & Wattpad. :D This was originally a sole Leon fic from years ago until the remake ignited my will to continue the idea again. Note, Leon's technically not in the first chapter but I promise he'll be in the next one. Translations are in the comments!

Chapter 1: Straight outta horror movie

Filth latched on you. Its gross dampness oozed through the white fabric, violating the personal space that was your skin.

One more.

Just one more miscalculated step and you'd lose your well-kept balance, plummeting face first into the dirty, wet earth.

"Why am I even here?"

An upbeat cheer was your friend's response to your unending gripe. "You can do it! I believe in you."

"I don't believe in myself."

Sam was standing atop a boulder just ahead of you with her hands on her hips. "I thought you said you wanted to be adventurous for a change?"

"I said I needed a get-away from the city, not go hiking in this damn weather!" you fired back.

Of course you had terrible luck sliding across mud whilst traversing through the thick forest. Flailing around midway to steady yourself only did you more bad than good when your foot landed on an ankle-deep hole in the soil— you ought the universe likes to be cruel to you in that way.

Your other companion attempted to console your frustrations by extending a helping hand. "This is a sign that you should go out more so you can keep up with us." With Peter's efforts, he yanked you out of your misery and navigated you through the safety of an even ground.

"I do, just not with you two."

"Hurry, hurry!" Sam jogged onwards with a rushing Peter behind her.

"Wait up!"

You stood there dumbfounded, your grumbles of protest soon ignored as they playfully shoved each other all the way to an overview of the massive woods. "Yeah, don't mind me. I'm basically just air."

While they soaked in the presence of nature, snapping multiple photos of the same scenery— everywhere you looked were just rows of trees dimmed into the gathering fog— you busied yourself by sitting next to a withering plant, popping your sludge-filled sneaker off.

You deflated at its state. My shoe.

"We're almost there." The ever so enthusiastic Sam motioned at the path beyond. She withdrew a worn-out map from her bag, waving it off with a wide smile, before flipping it right open. It left you wondering how old the poor thing was, seemed like one more careless unfolding and she would tear it apart herself out of excitement. "It says here there's only a mile until the gates of the abandoned church."

"It feels like I'm in a horror movie about dumb teens walking to their death," you said flatly, back hunched as you tapped the disgusting residues out of your shoe.

"Don't make me drag you by your legs." Your vacant stare glazed over hers. As if she would be able to without cracking a back or two. "Look, I promise you, it's going to be an awesome experience."

"Not when we're walking right into cannibalistic territory."

"Don't worry," Peter piped up, sending you a small grin, "I don't think they're going to be interested in your guts anyways."

"Good, they can start chowing you down first."

Sam eagerly clapped her hands together. "Alright! Less talking, more climbing. Let's go."

Both of them brushed aside your worries as the paranoid talk of a horror enthusiast who has watched one too many films and began trudging up towards the murky terrain. With no other choice you slipped your ruined shoe back on, toes squirming uncomfortably in left-over mud as you pocketed your equally ruined sock.

Considering you had no plans of returning by yourself, far away from the civilization you all came from, you unwillingly followed suit with a permanent scowl on your lips.

Apparently your friends' idea of escaping the hardships of responsibility and adulthood was to trek these rocky cliffs in search for an ancient church hidden within the mountains of this remote land. Scratch that, you reminded yourself that they were nothing but co-workers who have managed to recruit you into their quest of going off-course from the trail a local guide had specifically told you not to go off-course.

The situation had set your alarm bells ringing off the charts. Who in their right minds would journey through these unregistered parts of the area without an escort?

If looks could kill, you'd be charged with first degree murder. Unaware of your glare focused on their backs, Sam and Peter chattered amongst themselves about the thrilling possibility of discovering something bizarre.

It was true that you wanted to step out of your comfort zone at least once. So rather than opting for a usual holiday inn along with the most basic, jam-packed tourist hotspots, you were convinced to accept their offer of exploring an obscure landscape with a secret underground structure.

Honestly, it wasn't that bad.

It wasn't supposed to be this bad.

You wouldn't be moping about if only your colleagues didn't stray from the original route you had all decided to stick to.

Your mind wouldn't be full of unimaginable terrors if the resident guide didn't just vanish nearly two hours ago when he made a beeline to the closest gutter somewhere to take a piss, which prompted your group to continue forward because how else were you guys going to get your money's worth from paying this trip if not make a curious little detour on your own?

No, everything would have been fine if there were no ominous grey clouds hanging above the skies, nor pitter-patters of water dropping lightly on your heads.

Peter swatted your arm at the sight of your sour expression. "Keep frowning like that and you're gonna end up old early I'm telling you."

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath the weight of your feet as the three of you constantly marched through the overgrown branches on the way.

You smacked a few out of your face. "Nothing to smile about in my life."

Sam paused in her steps, whirling around to confront you. Her hands were soon on your shoulders accompanied by a squeeze. "Stop getting worked up so much. You need to relax, okay?" Now she was shaking the hell out of you. "Breathe in some fresh air! Get rid of the pollution in your lungs."

"It stinks in here," you said as a matter-of-fact.

The surrounding environment reeked that it felt like the stench personally sucker-punched you in the nose. It was as if here rested a burial of decaying flesh and numerous crap combined.

Hopefully said decaying flesh was of animal remains, not something... much worse.

"Man, don't be lame. We don't get this much days-off from corporate so you might as well enjoy yourself," Peter huffed as the three of you resumed walking.

"He's right. Do you really have to be negative about it?" Sam questioned, craning her head sideways to peek at you.

"Listen, I'm not here to spoil your fun."

"Well you're already doing a good job at it."

"The point is," you interjected fast, "it takes zero effort to be a bit more careful in general."

She raised her brows. "Yeah, because a cannibal's going to jump its teeth right at us."

"Or some rando with a mask and a machete," Peter added, nudging at her. They both wore matching snickers. "See? This is what happens when you keep watching those crappy B-rated films at midnight."

You deadpanned at their lack of tact in comprehending the dangers of travelling on foreign roads. "When I die, I'm haunting you two first."

Not that this exchange was anything new.

It should've been half expected, them dismissing your comfort in general for their own fun. The last time you attended a company gathering, a couple of your associates were dragging you left and right to a toast by chugging multiple bottles at once. One thing led to another, with you refusing to be black-out drunk with some unfamiliar faces, then you ended up getting blamed for killing the fun out of the party.

All because you didn't like the idea of being wasted around people you didn't know. That and you wouldn't want to turn up at work the next day with a banging headache.

You didn't hate your co-workers.

Although you were tempted to wring some of their necks at one point or two, you'd rather learn how to mingle with the crowd than be tagged as a pathetic social outcast. Sure, you can stand up for yourself, but it was easier to stay on everybody's good side while you simply faded into the office wallpaper minding your own business (not at the expense of your boundaries of course!)

It's hard enough that your superiors stack tons of reports on your desk with a huge, fat date of a deadline attached to it, you didn't need another hassle in the form of people who actively wished for your downfall just because you were being a jerk about somebody's ugly outfit or whatever.

Having close acquaintances to help you out with a few workloads was a plus too.

And so, socialize you did.

"If you hate it so much, why did you bother coming?" Sam fell back in line beside you while Peter wandered ahead.

You stomped on dirt as you treaded under the bleak drizzle of the afternoon. "Because if I didn't, who knows what would happen to you two? And they might accuse me of pushing you off a cliff or something if I came back without you guys in tow."

Her quiet snort didn't go unnoticed. "Would you push us off a cliff or something?"

"Hm." Your eyes shortly closed, as if you were contemplating over the thought. "I'm still deciding on it."

An abrupt shift in the background and hasty rustling from the hills had you snapping your neck in alarm towards the source of the unwelcomed noise. Your gaze started darting everywhere, seeking for anything, anyone, scurrying around the meadows prepared to pounce on your unsuspecting selves.

You turned to Sam, shushing her with a finger. "Hold up."

"Now what?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Oh for Pete's sake," she exclaimed in disbelief.

Peter tossed a glance by his shoulder. "You called?"

"No not you!"

"Okay, I swear, I heard something." Your voice hinted budding anxiety.

"Can you please stop scaring yourself every five minutes?"

"It could have been a squirrel or raccoon on the run from you," Peter suggested out loud.

Wind breezed just right past the edge of your cheeks.

Something swift came whizzing from behind you, hitting Sam and straight up knocking the breath out of her backwards.

Your heart almost leaped out of your throat that you would have stumbled on your feet if they were not physically petrified on the forest floor at the same time. Eyes bulging wide and insides twisting together in sick realization, you stilled at the arrow that was jammed deep into Sam's shoulder.

Dark red started blooming along her clothes while she laid there stunned.

Holy shit.

Holy shit!

Frantic screams erupted all together, cutting through the once uncanny silence encompassing the woods.

Your head shot up everywhere while you cradled her against you. Sam's trembling hands hovered unsurely to where the tip of the arrow has punctured her. She gasped through labored breathing, spluttering words of pain and sobbing begs for help.

"Peter!"

He dashed towards the two of you before you knew it, his knees skidding across the field. Peter found himself in a binding frenzy and his immediate move was to rip the arrow out of Sam's flesh at her repeated pleas.

"Wait don't!"

She burst into another fit of shrieks.

"Shit!" Peter was quick to let go of the arrow's handle once he understood his grave mistake. He jerked around back and forth the area. "Where did it come from?!"

"I don't know!"

"¡Forasteros!"

"¡Cazadlos!"

"¡Preparad la trampa!"

Not far away from your rooted position were screeches of a seemingly angry mob emerging from nowhere. Their initial silhouettes soon changed into clear outlines, revealing a group of villagers rapidly approaching armed with various pitchforks, sickles and torches illuminating their vicious nature.

Hostile gazes were dead set upon you.

"¡Muerte!"

Fear rattled you down to the very core. "Get her up! Now." Your arms circled around Sam's limbs to hoist her up, Peter did the same, and both of you began carrying her limping form with all your mights. Her head flopped to the side, signifying that she was on the verge of passing out. "Sam, stay with me."

An arrow came zipping through the air.

And another.

"Watch out!" In a matter of seconds you were tackling Peter to the ground. Filth spread throughout your clothes as the two of you rolled out of the ambush.

Long ago did you forget your holds on Sam. The force of their consecutive shots sent her flying and toppling on her back. When you wobbly pushed yourself back up to reach out for her, your voice died into a mute static, mouth hanging agape in sheer shock. Terror tightened its clutch on you as your heart lurched at the image in front of you.

"—elp."

There was an arrow lodged into Sam's windpipe. Similar ones were protruding from her thighs and abdomen from singlehandedly taking on the earlier onslaught. You watched in quiet horror as she miserably clawed at the one speared on her neck while choking in her own blood, light splatters painting her face as she gurgled the thick liquid now pooling from her mouth. Red slowly trickled underneath her, it stained the golden browns and bright greens of the fallen wet leaves.

"—go."

A different voice reverberated through the soundless background, screaming for your name.

"Let's go!" Peter's hand seized you by the collar of your shirt, almost strangling you in the process. He pulled your mind out of the water and you instantly tumbled forward alongside him. "Move godammit!"

You finally found your footing at his harsh tug and the two of you raced maniacally through the woods, never once looking back. You didn't think you canever look back at the macabre where you left your dying companion behind.

It wasn't until a few minutes into making a run for your lives did you glide into a complete stop. You placed a hand against a tree to support yourself from the hammering in your chest and to catch some needed air. "Sam, she," you uttered, regaining the ability to speak again without bile threatening to spill. There was an inaudible crack in your tone. "She was..."

Peter was just as breathless as he combed through the stuff inside his backpack. "W–we need to, we need to call for help," he stammered, fumbling with the phone that he barely had a grasp on.

Following his act, you brought out yours. Your grip intensified, stomach sinking at the screen with zero reception. "Really, at a time like this?"

"Useless piece of crap!" Peter threw the device in a brief outburst of rage. It smashed against the bark of a tree. He wound up scrubbing his face, hands moving to clutch his hair.

"What are we gonna do?" You thrusted your phone back into your bag. "Sam had the map."

"I... don't know." Peter lifted his disoriented features at you. He sniffed a bit and rubbed his nose using the sleeves of his jacket. "I don't know."

Lightning flashed above the dreary skies. The thunder's presence rumbled across a distance soon after. A storm was brewing not far ahead.

"Aprisa, aprisa, seescapan los corderitos!"

Both of you jolted out of the fleeting sense of peace, trepidation on the rise yet again at the impending horde whose sole mission was to disembowel you alive by the looks of it.

"They caught up," you whispered panic-stricken as you ducked out of their line of sight.

Peter grabbed your arm. "When I run, you run, got it?"

"Do you even know where we're going?"

"It doesn't matter!" he retorted, "We're running until we find help. Don't look back, you understand?"

You gulped, before flashing him a hesitant nod with your lips forming a tight line.

"C'mon."

Adrenaline pumped through your nerves as the two of you sprinted blindly towards the woodland.

Peter appointed himself to take the lead and was now speeding in front of you. "We're going to be fine, we're going to be fine, we're going to be fine," he continuously mumbled under his breath. It was more of a reassurance for him to help his remaining sanity intact. His jaws clenched in agitation, the throbbing across his ribs was non-stop.

He risked a glimpse at you, hoping that you were still trailing behind him. Stick together and we're going to be fine.

A violent snap echoed in your ears.

"Fuck! Ah!"

Dread crashed down on you all at once. You could feel your own foundation on the brink of crumbling at the scene playing right before your eyes that you almost collapsed when you staggered back.

Peter howled in agony on the ground, hanging on to his leg where his foot has been clamped shut by a bear trap. Its rusty maw chewed at his flesh, the teeth penetrated his muscles open while chunks of skin still dangled around the pulverized bone of his ankle joint.

"No no no." Fingers dug into the gaps of the trap as you scratched at its surface, putting all of your combined strength into prying them apart. "Come on you stupid metal crap!"

"Stop."

You didn't hear it the first time.

"I said stop."

You refused to hear whatever the fool has to say at all.

"You're hurting me you dumbass!" Peter slapped your desperate tries away. His words and actions, however, contrasted the rueful smile he had on. Peter dropped his head, his shoulders visibly quaking that you couldn't exactly discern whether he was about to cackle or cry or whichever in between. Then he broke into a series of strained laughter seconds later, which slowly but surely evolved into him shedding mild tears. "I'm bleeding."

"No shit." The blood smeared along his pants said as much. "Now help me get you out!"

"I..." He practically drifted off at the fact that he's screwed, catching himself before he could absolutely lose it. "I'm only going to slow you down."

"Peter Connors, I'm going to drag your ass if I have to!" you yelled at his face as you forced your way through the trap once again, striving to split it open.

His conviction in saving you nearly wavered at your stubbornness to let him go. "You need to leave."

You snatched him by his shirt. "Pull yourself together and stop playing hero!"

He aggressively shoved you in return that he slipped off from your hold. "Do you want to die? I said go!"

His words rendered you speechless. How were you supposed to answer that knowing what he's asking of you meant?

"Beat it before they get here! Just..."

The situation crushed you, despaired with the struggling realization of leaving someone you knew behind to their doom. Again.

It was a miracle that Peter was even capable of a weak chuckle at his misfortune, yet he did. "Horror survival 101, am I right? What else are we supposed to do?"

Your expression contorted, eyes blurring misty. There was a lump stuck in your throat, together with uncertainty that kept your tongue tied. "I'm..."

No.

"I'm going to get help."

Why are you parting him with false hopes?

"So don't you dare die on me, you hear me?"

He doubted he'd still be here in one piece if you did come back. Peter's mouth twitched into a small, helpless smile. "Loud and clear."

You ended up squeezing his shoulder, because it was the only thing you could ever possibly offer someone who would be meeting their eventual demise. "Hang tight."

Great, you sucked at comforting a man who's at death's door too.

"Now go."

He didn't have to tell you twice.

You were already fleeing from the site, like your legs have worked on a mind of their own and now they're pushing you to the limit as you bolted through the extensive land regardless having zero knowledge of the right track.

There should be at least one decent person in this place who could help you out, right?

Right?

"¡Oye!"

With you barreling your way through the forest like a madman, you didn't have ample time to hit the brakes the moment someone else appeared right in front of your path. The impact struck hard as you unintentionally hurled yourself at them, the collision launching both of you spinning down the steep hills against each other.

Pain exploded across your skull when you landed on your back after with a loud thud. "I c— I can't breathe," you wheezed, applying all of your remaining energy turning to your side, but the person responsible for your lack of oxygen doubled your suffering by pressing you down with his entire weight on top of your body.

The man stroked his head, wincing as he carefully picked himself up with a groan, "¡Mierda, you literally ran me over."

Your fight or flight response kicked in as soon as there was space between the two of you and you thrashed like crazy, causing your fist to jab him by the chin. He yelped, jumping back from your punch. You took this chance to spring back on your feet despite the overwhelming ache crossing your temples.

You scrambled with anything you can get your hands on to defend yourself against this likely deranged stranger, until you uncovered a large stone beneath the rubble.

"Woah woah woah!" He almost tipped his balance at the insane intruder rising up with a rock on their hand. "So after your little hit-and-run you're just gonna bash my head in, huh? Is that it?"

"The hell are you saying?" You hissed, vision and limbs unsteady. "Are you a member of that cannibalistic cult?!" you demanded, jutting your weapon in his direction to show him how ready you were to use it if necessary.

"Don't lump me with them! I'm not the one looking like a lunatic."

Your heated clash was interrupted by the imminent, recognizable voices from afar.

"¡Ahíestan!"

"Oh good, did you really have to bring an army with you?"

"Yeah, because I just love the attention from a bunch of crazy townsfolk."

The trade of sarcasm didn't go undetected that the conversation earned a glower of annoyance from you and a pompous smirk from him.

"Looks like we're partners in crime now, no?"

"What?"

"They hate you, they hate me. I don't think they're on their way here to invite us for dinner, don't you think?" His talk was dripping casual as if this was all routine of a typical Sunday morning. "What do you say?"

The shouts were increasing in volume.

"Okay, fine. Fine!" You flung the rock in another direction, resigning your fate into his hands. "Lead the way then or else we're the ones on the menu tonight."

The mystery man didn't budge at first, which provided you with the impression that perhaps you made a mistake of trusting whoever this guy was, instead he put his open palm out for you to— you assumed— shake?

"Luis Serra."

You swiped at him and his untimely introduction. "Save it for later!"

"Ow, rude," he said pretending to be disheartened at your rejection of his camaraderie, before the traces of his comical attitude disappeared, now replaced by a genuine grasp on both of your present circumstances.

"Run like your whole life depends on it."

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #re4r #re4 remake #leon kennedy #luis serra #luis sera x reader #ada wong #ada wong x reader #ashley graham #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x reader #omg I finally finished the prologue after 2 months

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