#I'm too damn old to already have so many regrets
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Crashing Tides
Authors note: So remember about 3 or 4 ish months ago I said I was working on a surfer shop worker!Daniel + moody rich 19 year old!Max age gap romance fic? Well, surprise! After a billion years the first part of it is finally here. I'm not 100% happy with it but I decided to finally just say fuck it and bite the bullet with it. I am hoping to write more in the future about this au but in the meantime if you have any suggestions or ideas about this au please feel free to share them with me :) my asks are always open <3 otherwise, I hope you enjoy!!
Warnings: language
Word count: 2,029 (2k)
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The warmth of the Australian sun beats down harshly on Daniel’s skin as he tries his best to dodge and weave through the crowded boardwalk, not wanting to run anyone over with his bike. He wipes the layer of sweat that had gathered on his forehead off on the back of his hand, cringing slightly at the sheer amount of it.
He silently regrets not taking a shower before leaving the house, but at this rate, with the amount of people blocking his way, he was going to be late.
Damn tourists.
He can hear his boss, Mark, now: "Look, who finally decided to show up! I’m glad you think this company runs on your schedule.” He rolls his eyes at the mental image of the older Australian man passive-aggressively scolding him. You would think a person who owns a beachside surf shop would be more laid-back, but no. Ever since his wife left him last summer, his boss has been nothing but a crotchety old man. And trust me, Daniel has tried many times to invite him out to bars to be his wingman for the night, but every time he offers, he gets immediately shut down and scolded for even offering.
Sorry, he was just trying to be a good co-worker and get his boss some stress relief in the form of a one-night stand with a beautiful lady.
Pulling up to the shop, Daniel rushes off his bike, hastily reaching into his bag to grab his bike lock and securing it to the pole near the side of the building. Once secure, he practically bolts into the front entrance of the shop, accidentally slamming the door open a bit too hard for his liking, causing a few customers and his coworker, Lando, to perk their heads up and look in his direction.
“I know. I know. But technically, I’m early. I still have a minute until I’m supposed to be here.” Daniel says matter-of-factly, shining a bright smile at the younger man as he walks up to the front counter that his co-worker is lounging lazily against.
“You're cutting it close, mate.” Lando comments as he glances up at the shark-themed clock on the wall. (What? His boss might be an ass, but at least he’s an ass with good taste.)
10:59 am
Lando shakes his head. “I don’t know if you want to push your luck too much. Mark is in a pissy mood today.” He explains.
Daniel rolls his eyes. “When is he not?”
Lando glances over his shoulder, making sure the door to the manager’s office is shut before whispering, “I don't know, mate; he seems grouchier than normal. Like something’s really ticked him off.”
Daniel raises an eyebrow at the younger man. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the door of the manager’s office slams open, revealing his boss on the other side.
“Speak of the devil.” Lando whispers as both of the men straighten back up as their boss steps out of his office.
"Daniel, I'm so glad you finally decided to join us for your shift that you were scheduled for.” Mark greets, scowling at him.
“Good morning to you too, Mark.” Daniel says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm that coats his words. The older man scoffs at him, rolling his eyes in a way Daniel can only describe as Oscar-worthy with how dramatic it was.
“Whatever. It’s not like I have been waiting for you all morning to get your lazy ass here.” Mark hisses, motioning his hand to the shark clock on the wall. 11:00 am. Daniel has to repress the urge to roll his eyes. He’s been there for less than 2 minutes, and he’s already having to deal with Mark’s bullshit. That has to be a new record.
"Sorry, I wasn’t here earlier. Emily decided to have a breakdown this morning about having to stay with my parents for the day.” Daniel explains half-heartedly, knowing no matter what explanation or excuse he gives the older man, he’s not going to be pleased either way.
“Well, maybe you should invest in some parenting classes then since you aren’t doing a great job at controlling your kid.” Mark sneers, “You know what? Never mind, I don’t care at this point.”
Daniel can feel his frustration growing by the second. Honestly can’t he just back off? He’s here, isn’t he? It’s not like he’s one of the only workers there, besides Lando, who does his job. If it wasn’t for the fact that the pay was nice, Daniel would have been out of there the second Mark started acting this way last summer. Plus he’s been working at the surf shop for almost 5 years now and what has he gotten for it? Nothing except for the temporary title of shift lead whenever Mark isn’t there.
As if he can sense the tension in the air between the two older men, Lando decides to speak up.
“Oh uh..by the way, Mark, this dude called earlier. I think he said his name was Jos? He said his son would be here around 11:30.”
Lando and Daniel both watch as Mark inhales deeply as if Lando’s words were the most aggravating thing he has ever heard.
“That brings me to my next point. A friend of my old man asked me to hire his son for the summer while they are vacationing here.” Mark explains. Daniel and Lando share a confused look. Mark continues, “The reason why? I have no clue. Something about how he wants his son to learn what the real world is like even though his pocket money is more than what we all make in a year combined.”
Daniel raises an eyebrow at him, “And you just agreed? Just like that? Who’s going to train him?”
Mark smirks devilishly, “Well that’s where you come in Daniel.”
“What do you mean ‘that’s where I come in’?”
“Well, you are always complaining that you’ve been here the longest and still haven’t gotten any type of raise or promotion. Well here you go, I’m promoting you to training associate. You are in charge of training the kid and also keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”
Daniel can’t help but feel the heat of anger from earlier rise beneath his skin. “So you expect me to not only train this kid I’ve never even met but also babysit the little brat as well? What the hell do you think I am? A damn babysitter?!” He snaps, crossing his arms and scowling at the older man.
“I’m nineteen. I don’t need a babysitter.”
All three of the men snap their heads back towards the front door, only to see, who Daniel presumes is the kid Mark was mentioning, standing in the entryway. Daniel blinks as he tries to take in the teen’s appearance. He doesn’t look like any nineteen-year-old Daniel has ever seen. Sure, he has semi-smooth skin, with a blemish here and there, and an overall youthful glow about him but for some reason, something’s off about him. Maybe it’s the way his shoulders are a bit broader than his own or how his jaw is a bit too sharp for Daniel’s liking. Either way, he doesn’t like it.
“Max! I didn’t expect you to be here so soon! Is it 11:30 already?”
Daniel glances at the clock on the wall. 11:09 am.
The teen trudges over to the front counter where the others are standing and crosses his arms. “My dad said I should show up early just in case you guys were busy or something. But, by the looks of it, you aren’t and are instead talking bad about me behind my back.” Max explains, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.
Daniel looks over at the teen, studying his face more intently now that he is standing next to him instead of a few feet away at the door. His brow is furrowed. His pale skin is tinted with a shade of pink from the harsh Australian sun. There is a collection of freckles that are scattered across his jawline and up to the middle of his cheek, with a single one lying on his upper lip. He notices now that the teen is just a bit taller than him. Not by much but enough to make Daniel even more wary than he was before.
Mark shakes his head, “Please forgive my employee, Daniel, here Max. He has had a bit of a rough morning so his mood isn’t the best right now.”
‘The only reason why I have had a rough morning is because of you jackass.’ Daniel thinks to himself as he shoots a glare at his boss.
Max rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”
Daniel and Lando exchange glances once again, as if to telepathically ask each other if this is what they are really going to have to deal with for the next two and half months.
The sound of Mark clearing his throat makes the two of them look up towards their boss.
“Anyway, as I was saying. My employee, Daniel here, will be in charge of training you and just overall making sure you're settling in here nicely.” Mark explains, clearly trying to skip over the part where Daniel called Max a brat that he has to babysit.
Daniel shifts his eyes over to the teen next to him. Max doesn’t look impressed. He still has his arms crossed and his lips have formed a tight line of annoyance. Honestly, Daniel can’t blame him. If he was in his shoes, aka if he was a rich kid who probably hasn’t worked a day in his life and his parents suddenly made him get a job at a dingy old surf shop while they were on a summer vacation, he would be pissed too.
There is a beat of awkward silence that fills the air between the four.
“I’m guessing this is the part where I introduce myself?” Lando chuckles awkwardly, drawing the other’s attention to himself. Max stares at him silently, as if he is waiting for the other to say something else that will ultimately aggravate him even more.
“I’m Lando. I started working here about a year and a half ago. I go to the university just up the street. I usually work in the mornings because I have night classes.” He explains. Max doesn’t say anything, instead, he sighs, uninterested.
Lando scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh..When I’m not working or in class you can usually find me in my dorm playing video games.” The mention of video games makes the teen’s ears perk up with interest.
“You play video games?” Max asks in a slightly less annoyed voice than before.
“Yeah! I play all sorts of games like GTA, God of War, and F123. I actually stream my gameplay on Twitch with my friends from time to time. You should join sometime. I bet it would be really fun.”
Daniel doesn’t know if it’s the heat getting to him or what but he swears he sees the faintest hint of a smile on Max’s face when Lando mentions him joining him in a gaming session.
“I’ll think about it.”
Seemingly pleased with the exchange, Mark claps his hands together like a coach trying to round up his team for a debriefing after a game. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, Max, how would you like to follow Daniel around for today to get a feel of the environment and how things work around here?”
Daniel can feel the teen’s eyes on him before he even turns his head. His stare is as cold as ice and Daniel worries that if the teen doesn’t look away, he might burn a hole through his head.
The universe must have been on his side because just as Daniel thought he would never look away, Max shifts his eyes toward Mark. The stare he gives Mark is just as cold.
“Whatever.”
“Perfect. Now let’s get started.”
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I wanna talk about my mind for a little bit
I was gonna save this until after I posted the last Wingless Angel chapter but I can’t post it yet. Pretty sure my mind wants me to get this out of my system first.
So hi everyone, how are you? How have you been? Honestly if you’re still following at all I’m delighted.
I don’t want this to come across as some excuse for all the unfinished fanfic I left behind 3+ years ago, which is why I wanted to publish WA first, so I hope you don’t take it that way. But I ended up stumbling upon an aspect of my mental health that I’m still trying to address and since I never really saw anyone post or talk about my particular issue before very recently, I wanted to share it in case it resonates with anyone.
(Clearly stuff has changed, this is where I'd normally put a "read more" but.... I guess that's not a thing anymore?? Hopefully this isn't a huge annoying wall of text on everyone's dash, oof.)
I’ve posted before about my ADHD. I’ve been getting treatment for it for 10 years now, and for all that time, medication & other coping mechanisms have been helpful to a point, but only to a point. There was still something left that was keeping me from functioning, and I couldn’t tell what it was. All I knew was that I had no will of my own, and I’d spent the last 10 years trying to create situations where the people in charge were asking (or implying that i should do) things I considered good to do. “People in charge” meant anyone besides myself. If someone was not me, they automatically had authority, simply by virtue of being someone external to me.
I did a lot of research trying to find something that matched up with my experiences & feelings, even partially, and I looked into things like PDA autism and even just the people-pleasing habits common with other ADHD folks.
At some point, with therapy, I did learn how to say “no” to other people’s demands of me. I learned to set boundaries. But I was still profoundly uncomfortable with dictating what I was going to do, especially if anyone else was ever going to be aware of it.
When I was a little kid, i was told “no” constantly, and that’s not hyperbole. I’ve cited the story many times of falling in love with the violin when I was 9 but immediately being told “No, you’re going to play the flute.” So I played the flute, but without any passion for it I couldn’t figure it out and I quit, and my mom never stopped making me feel guilty about it. But that wasn’t the only example of that kind of thing. I wanted to play soccer; mom said play basketball, so I played basketball. I wanted to play piano; mom bought me a guitar and my sister got the electronic keyboard. (We eventually switched, but I never felt like I could fully commit to playing the thing). I wanted to learn Spanish or Japanese in high school; mom told me to learn French, so I took four fucking years of French.
My feelings and wishes were effectively not a factor in what I was allowed to do, what goals I was allowed to pursue, unless I was staying in my room and out of everyone’s way (and even then I had to make sure I jumped up to do what was asked of me if I got called from another room). Eventually I learned, as a survival mechanism, to just obey. It wasn’t worth fighting anymore because I was systematically robbed of my individuality at every turn. Something happened when I was 13 that I will never talk about publicly and she played "good parent who has her kid's back" for about 5 minutes before siding with the bad guy. I brought it up years later and she was mad I'd never gotten over it. And all that is on top of being raised to be a "good little capitalist drone" who needs to be perfect and efficient at all times. I was never supported. I was never given grace. So I never gave grace to myself, because if your own parents don't give you grace & time to learn and be flawed, then clearly you don't deserve any, right?
I finally cut my mother out of my life not long after the pandemic began, a few months after having gone no-contact from my father (mostly due to his casual racism & transphobia, which cost me at least one very close friendship when I was a kid, and was unkind to my child in a way I could not abide). My immediate family - spouse and kid - are the only family I have left now. And it sounds tragic on paper, because it is, but until I finally got away from my mother's voice in real life I couldn't filter through the recordings of her voice in my mind so I could finally throw them away. And that knot is still being untied. Honestly this is 10 years into a very long mental health journey, when you think about it, but I wish I'd cut my mom out of my life a very very long time ago. I wasn't angry about lost time when I got my ADHD diagnosis. I was angry about it when I realized that yes, this had been abuse, and I hadn't been courageous enough to get away from it sooner.
Because that dehumanization resulted in me having no will power of my own, and that extended as far as simply not wanting anything anymore. I like things, sure, but anything I WANTED for myself was out of the question, especially if it involved other people in any way, but honestly even solo pursuits became impossible for me to will myself to do. For right now, when I have something I want to do, I'm telling my friends & husband to order me to do it. Because I won't do it otherwise. And it's a potentially dangerous workaround, but it's all I have for now. I and my therapist are hoping that once my brain registers that what other people are telling me to do is aligned with what I want to do, maybe it won't depend on other people's commands anymore and I'll just take control of my own life for once. But that may not work. I'll have to wait and see.
So what does this have to do with my abandoned fics? Well, it had started to become more difficult to write because the adhd "shinyness" was wearing off anyway, but I'd been doing a good job of pushing past it because people liked what I was writing. I could see my skill getting better, and engagement was going up, and that was really motivating.
But then... I stopped writing fic all of a sudden because someone made a post about finding it shitty when writers wrote about COVID in their fics, and.... that was sort of a last straw that broke me, because I do exactly that in the last WA chapter. So I just turned tail and ran away. I tried to push through and write & publish the chapter anyway, because it was the LAST chapter and I knew people were waiting on it, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Even having OSBB obligations didn't get me writing again, and given that obligation, the shame I felt about not having finished those stories weighed on me so badly that I couldn't even interact with you guys on Instagram, despite you having been so kind to me in the past.
Let's face it, that goes WAY beyond adhd rejection sensitivity, that's a trauma response. I saw one bit of honestly well-reasoned critique of work that wasn't even mine, and I just ran. Immediately I felt like I was no longer allowed to take up space here. I felt unwelcome here in this corner of the internet world, just as I have always felt like I wasn't allowed to take up space in the physical world for almost my ENTIRE life. And the shame I already feel about myself normally was compounded by what I felt was a cowardly thing to do, which prevented me from returning.
Now that I've accepted that, yes, I am an abuse victim whose life has been MASSIVELY and MAJORLY affected by that childhood trauma, I'm finally able to address it properly. Over the last few weeks I've been changing the direction of my therapy and my self-talk (reparenting yourself is HARD) and I'm feeling some improvement, but progress isn't linear so my burst of motivation the other night fizzled out, and I'm genuinely sorry for that.
So... yeah, I'm trying to come back and get those fics finished. I'm grateful for any of you willing to be patient with me. Consciously I KNOW I deserve any support willingly given to me by any of you, but I FEEL like I don't. So yeah. Thanks. <3
#long post#me irl#i'm sure i had a tag for original posts but i dont' know wtf it was#it's been awhile#I'm too damn old to already have so many regrets#i'm mourning a lot of goals i had once that are no longer options#or even things i'm not as interested in doing anymore#like i'm still sad i didn't do them in the first place even tho i don't wanna do them now#but some stuff i really do want to do#and i hope to regrow my childhood will power soon enough that i can do them#cuz yeah there is a proper midlife crisis going on now#i am halfway to death if i'm lucky#and my life has never been my own#so i'm trying to seize it back but it is really hard to do#I feel like tumblr is the only site that would know where this post is coming from#anywhere else i know it'd just be seen as a sob story excuse or something#i mostly just wanted anyone who's been an abuse victim in a similar way to realize that that's what it is#because i resisted accepting it for so long#and it cost me so much time
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"You Should Date My Nephew"
"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.
Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.
433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.
Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted home. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.
The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.
"H'llo? Eds?"
"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.
"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"
"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this.
But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.
"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.
"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."
"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."
"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.
And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish grin and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the house, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.
So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.
"The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.
"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.
"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.
"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."
And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.
"Hey, Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.
But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.
"Here, Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.
"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.
"Well yeah, of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.
By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.
On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?
He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.
"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.
"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.
"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.
A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.
"You should date my nephew."
Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.
"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.
"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.
"What, you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.
"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"
"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.
"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.
"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."
"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.
"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.
"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the Munson's place. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.
"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the house which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.
Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.
"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"
Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.
"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.
"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"
"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.
"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.
"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."
And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."
#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#steve x eddie#steddie#eddie munson#wayne munson#Wayne Munson POV#steve/eddie
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"Irresistible" Blade x fem!reader
18+ only. No plot at all, enemies to lovers vibes but not really, oral (fem.receiving), vaginal fingering, squirting, cum eating, marking (bites), clit biting (once), overstimulation, orgasm control, semi-public oral sex, Blade being a tease.
Word count: 948
A/n: I wanna squirt on his face and make him my bitch but honestly, I would much rather to be his bitch instead.
Important note: Call me "fake" cuz truth is I haven't started HSR yet but I will soon too many hotties ara ara~ I apologize for any mistakes about Blade's character. I wrote him based on the vibes I get and the leaks I've seen.
Likes and/or reblogs are much appreciated 🙏🏻
Also posted on my AO3
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You find it difficult to concentrate whenever Blade is around. He undoubtedly has an intimidating aura surrounding him, matching his overall demeanor. You knew it would be embarrassing, if not impossible, to get his pretty face between your thighs so you tried to ignore it but your hormones seemed to ride on a roller-coaster every time you two crossed paths.
Blade has developed an oddly attraction to you but every encounter leaves you in confusion whether he likes you or not.
[...]
You're both walking the same old long hallway just like every other day. The sound of your heels echoes in the complete silence that drives you insane every passing minute. "If not now then never" you think to yourself, trying to find the guts to ask Blade to fulfill your growing need.
Standing tall only a touch away from you, Blade seems to not pay any attention to your presence at all, remaining silent and giving you quick looks with the corner of his eye.
"I can't take this anymore." You said and stand still in the middle of the hallway.
"Hhm? What's the matter?" Blade asked. The tone of his voice showed not the slightest bit of concern.
"I hate myself..." You breathed out.
"Are you having a crisis in the middle of the day? Right here, right now?" He interrupted, still not concerned at all.
"I hate myself for wanting you so damn bad." You continued.
He laughed. "Daring today, aren't you? Well...I'm not surprised at all."
"What do you mean?"
"I like to see you lose your cool when I'm around."
"So you're saying that you like to see others suffering?"
"No, not at all. I just find it quite interesting to mess with you from time to time." He laughed again and approached you.
His scarlet eyes pierced through your soul, making you feel so small and weak. There was no way for this to work out but besides your cowardice, you decided to give it a shot.
"I want you to go down on me." You whispered as you grabbed him by the waist, hands shaking after each word that came out of your mouth.
He smirked. "Go...down on you..? Hmm, and what makes you think that you can have me?"
You didn't know how to respond. You started to regret it until Blade grabbed your wrists and pinned you to the wall.
"Look at you...so desperate for me. Are you even listening to yourself?" He pushed his leg between your thighs.
"Blade...go down on me. Right here, right now." You managed to say without breaking eye contact with his fiercely red eyes.
"Is this all that you want...?" Before you could even reply, he shush you with his index finger, slowly sliding it from your lips to your chin. In a blink of an eye, Blade got on his knees and looked upon you.
"Now watch as I make you mine." He smirked.
Your skirt gave him easy access to your inner thigh that he kept biting not-so-gently while his fingers teased your pussy through your panties.
"You like that, don't you?" He asked without expecting a response. He could both see and hear the effect his actions had on you.
You bit your lip. "Blade...just eat me out already...please..."
"Just wait a little more..." He said and pushed your panties to the side, sliding his fingers into your wet hole.
You flinched and grabbed his head for stability. The lewd sounds of your wetness and your muffled moans echoed across the hallway.
"When I'm done, you'll beg for more." Blade licked your pussy and added pressure with his tongue over your clit and shamelessly bit it. The sudden pain that got you screaming, quickly got replaced with pleasure.
"Blade...Blade...Blade..." You called out his name as he kept eating you out, his tongue leaving no spot of yours neglected.
"Do I turn you on this much?" He smirked.
"This...is too much..." You cried out. "Fuck this! I'm gonna cum."
"Well, this is where things get really interesting." Blade said mischievously and spelled his name using his tongue on your clit.
You cried out his name and pulled his long hair as you squirted all over his face. Blade pulled back and watched your dazed, blushing face.
Your afterglow didn't last long as Blade rushed to get you cum all over him again. Your sensitivity levels were high but he didn't seem to care at all as he pushed his tongue inside your wet hole, licking the deepest part of you.
Every time you moaned, he moaned back louder as if it was a competition. He could sense you were at your limit but decided to slow down right before you cum.
"Oh, so you're teasing me now?" You asked annoyed.
"You get what you asked for, babe."
"I don't remember asking for control of my pleasure."
"Such a funny thing to say while I got you screaming my name." Blade said and sucked on your clit, making you cum on the spot. You squeezed his head with your thighs leaving him no room to breathe.
When you relaxed, Blade lifted your chin with his wet fingers and stared at your glowing face.
"Moaning my name, cumming all over me and this look on your face...simply irresistible." He whispered.
THE END
! DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr x reader#hsr x y/n#hsr x you#hsr blade#blade honkai#honkai star rail smut#blade smut#hsr smut#hsr blade smut#debbywrites
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imagine if ena came back as a ghost to hunt syd, would she hurt him even further by reminding him that he's the reason she's dead? or would just appear in his dreams everynight like nothing's wrong until he's dead?
what about robin and the others, how would they feel about ena's death and possibly finding out syd killed her?
Hhmmm I guess she'll try to comfort him. I mean, she could have blame him at first, since her last was pretty terrible.
But...we know Sydney🙄 He definitely blame himself hard. Especially he knows Ena's traumatic events, and the truth that being a disgusting person just like the heathens who gave her terrible memories would be hard to bear to him..🥺
Imagine. The illusion of Ena which made by his guilty, whispering him everyday, “You said you hope nothing to happen to me. Why did you do this to me? Why did you make me like this?" But Sydney can't say anything and even saying sorry feels he dare ask Ena for forgiveness so the way how he apologize to Ena goes to CUT HIS FREAKING SEXY WRIST WITH DAMN CUTTER
Ena can't blame him anymore once she saw he hurting himself. SHE CAN'T. She still loves him🥺🥺🥺 So she would just hug him until he stops self harm. She don't want him to hurt himself..🥺🥺
About the others, hmmmm🤔🤔🤔
I think Robin will be sad surely, yeah. They are the best, childhood friend, and Robin was already owed to her too much. But their relationship ended up in the most terrible way, and he couldn't return anything to her favor. Of course he will regret that he couldn't be stronger. But that's not all. Maybe he could be very traumatized. But paradoxically, it would be make him more strong, but in unhealthy way. He still wants to believe the town is still nice and there are many good people, but it would be shattered by his bestfriend's death.
You can't survive in this town with being moral. Wasn't your friend a good example?
Imagine Robin becomes more daring. He won't avoid violence no more. He will break the one eye covered blonde bully's nose by punch in his face, if he need.
Maybe, he would stop the lemonade selling and starting to work together with Wren🫣🫣 Smuggler Robin Smuggler Robin
And the one who I'm personally curious about it is Bailey
Vrel said Bailey wouldn't expect but he's gonna very influence by pc's death. Vrel already confirmed that Bailey has some affection towards pc though he won't admit it.
It's not only just his shock. He has to let Eden know about this news. We know he's a cold-hearted man, but can he speak lightly such a new to his old 'friend'?
I also guess if he find who made Ena like that is Syd, he would control other orphans' relationship, so that the same thing never happen again.
#ask box#sydney the faithful#sydney the fallen#ena the radiant#bailey the caretaker#robin the orphan#prayer room violence
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If you need motivation on your loa journey or are experiencing difficulties, this post is for you. warning: i still don't speak english fluently, so if I have grammatical errors it's for that reason.
hi guys, maybe I'm high! i was watching the trend on TikTok of Lana Del Rey's song "Margaret" (yes, maybe I cried watching some videos, but that's not the point!!!) and the song has nothing to do with manifestation lol. 👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼
listening to a viral part of the song made me really want to come here and maybe motivate someone who needs it, so if this reached you, it's because you need it.
the part goes like this: "Because when you know, you know. When you're old, you're old."
and all I can think of is the law of assumption when I hear that. because WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW! your 3D only reflects when you KNOW THAT YOU HAVE IT. when I say I'm pretty, I'm pretty. when I say I'm rich, I'm rich. THE END, just THE END. there's no "but..." "I don't see..." "it doesn't seem like it's going to happen" baby, that really doesn't matter. just KNOW, know that you have it!!!! and WHEN YOU KNOW, you know. and when you know, you have it. it's simple, stop complicating things, it has to happen. and guess what? it will become reality because YOU SAID IT WILL, because you said it's THE TRUTH.
just leave the 3D alone, my life LITERALLY turned around when I left that damn 3D alone and believed in what >I< was saying. and I'm still a bit skeptical about some topics but I chose to give myself this opportunity to trust myself for the first time with my manifestations and take advantage of this chance to have my dream life, and I will never regret it. because when I TRUSTED MYSELF and said "I have this shit and I don't care if the world is falling apart around me, I still have it." that's when I finally had my desires.
gurl, I just want you to please, if you're struggling. leave the 3D alone! "but I'm manifesting my SP and he just married someone else" leave the 3D alone. "but I'm manifesting my dream body and the mirror is showing the opposite" leave the 3D alone. "but I'm manifesting making 10k a month and they want to evict me from my apartment because I'm behind on rent" leave the 3D alone (obviously do what you can to not be evicted from your home, don't be so crazy lmao). just focus on your affirmations, live in the state, visualize, WHATEVER FUCK IT. just trust yourself and work on your self-concept (because when you have a healthy self-concept, love, you have the world at your feet).
another part that I think is worth mentioning here is this: "So if you don't know, don't give up. 'Cause you never know what the new day might bring."
It's okay if you don't "know" and don't believe in yourself yet, you can definitely change that. just don't give up, if you know about the law of assumption it's for a reason. I believe in you and you should too, manifesting is so simple but so many people spend YEARS complicating it (I will never judge you for this, I have definitely been there several times) . if so many people have achieved their dream lives, give me a good reason why you can't achieve it too? the universe shouldn't hate you like that. just give yourself a vote of confidence and live in your damn imagination, i swear, I swear that if you live 100% in your little imagination, the 3D HAS NO OTHER OPTION but to reflect it. bro... this got longer than it was supposed to be. i'm sleepy and high, so that makes me talkative (unbelievable). but I really want this TESTAMENT to help someone, if it motivates one person, I'm already very happy. i'm thinking of making more posts, I don't know, I'm just sleepy. sleep well my loves and don't make me have written this for nothing.
#law of assumption#master manifestor#voidstate#manifesting#law of attraction#selfconcept#success story#mentaldiet#loassumption#loa blog#loa#loa motivation#living in the end#neville goddard#edward art#affirmations#affirm and persist#law of manifestation#void state#Spotify
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TELL ME ABOUT DUNE ALIA ATREIDES DUNE just anything I just need to read more about it I'm brainhungry
OH MY GOD OKAY OKAY OKAY FJSJSKNDNF
THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT DUNE ANY TIME THAT GOES FOR EVERYBODY
SO. ALIA.
my poor girl was doomed from the START from CONCEPTION😭😭😭😭once jessica drank the water of life, alia’s fate was pretty much sealed.
it’s so fucking tragic to think about her relationship to jessica and paul. jessica loved her kids, truly, she did, and we see it in how she cares for paul and alia throughout the first book, even after paul thinks, my mother has become my enemy. and yet. even before paul was born, jessica has been motivated by selfishness. she defied the bene gesserit and bore a son instead of a daughter to make leto (and herself) happy, thus damning paul to the fate of the kwisatz haderach. she drank the water of life and took on the role of the fremen reverend mother while pregnant to help implement the bg’s plans (and her own plans) even though she knew what it would do to her unborn daughter. from that point on, alia was sentient. she had the memories of billions within her fighting to gain control.
for the first few years of her life, she had a very distinct sense of self. she and paul, despite their age difference, loved each other SO MUCH😭😭😭😭there’s this one quote from dune messiah where reverend mother mohaim says, “who could understand but the sister?” in reference to paul’s struggles, and yeah. they understood one another in a way no one else could.
she had a sweet family dynamic with harah, jamis’ wife and paul’s eventual servant. their moment together in the first book is honestly the most open declaration of familial love we ever see in the books (“i love you, harah.” FUCKING RUINS ME), and right after that, alia snuggles up to jessica and takes comfort in her mother (she was so young she just wanted her MOM😭). like yeah she has many different memories within her that are not the memories of a child, but she, alia atreides, was still a child. and i know brian herbert and kevin j. anderson’s books are…certainly something😐but there’s a moment between alia and irulan in paul of dune where irulan tells alia, “you deserve to have a childhood too” and that just BREAKS ME because she never got one. since birth, she was treated like a freak and knew it. she literally said, “i know i’m a freak.” (she was like TWO when she said this MY BABY😭). when paul’s jihad was going on, she was running arrakis in his place as a CHILD. she had so much wisdom and knowledge and did an amazing job, but underneath that, you do see that she was a literal baby.
once she hit about four years old, jessica left her on arrakis. jessica went back to caladan and reverted back to her old bene gesserit ways, living in fear and disgust of the children she created. the children she once loved so. much. are now her biggest regrets, and we see this when she visits alia in children of dune and literally hesitates to call her “daughter.” once she admits it, there’s an understanding between alia and jessica that they are still family, but the “…daughter” DOESNT HURT ANY LESS.
then dune messiah comes around. she’s ≈ sixteen and already regarded as a demigoddess by the people of arrakis and has a little mini-cult surrounding her. she is paul’s closest confidante (some may argue that it’s chani, but i say again, “who could understand but the sister?”). she’s “saint alia of the knife” for a reason too. her fremen upbringing + her genetics make her incredibly skilled, so much so that breaking records is second-nature to her. however, as paul’s state declines, so does hers.
(WHO. COULD. UNDERSTAND. BUT. THE. SISTER.)
she starts slipping into spice trance, letting ancestors converse with her for longer periods of time. she’s argumentative and so, so lost. when duncan idaho’s ghola is given to paul, this 35+ year-old zombie man sees this 16 year-old and is like “yeah i’m gonna get up on that,” so he and alia get into a “relationship” that my poor girl didn’t know any better than to accept.
i think the start of her breaking point came when paul lost his sight. up until then, they had understood one another as easily as breathing, like those saplings that grow next to each other and end up twisting around one another (or turning into one tree). but when paul comes back blind yet still able to see, he knows she’s scared of him, and an irreparable rift develops right then and there (i pretend this doesn’t happen for my mental health).
once paul wandered into the desert, alia was gone. her sense of self and grasp on reality went right with him. he was the only one who didn’t live in fear of her, the only one who she ever felt truly loved by, who didn’t put her on a divine pedestal she didn’t want, who she could TRUST😭
this fucking monologue from messiah guts me inside:
“i wish i could burn this thing out of me…but i’m sister to an emperor who is worshipped as a god. people fear me. i never wanted to be feared. i don’t want to be part of history; i just want to be loved. and love.”
WHO!! COULD!! UNDERSTAND!! BUT!! THE!! SISTER!!!!!!!!!!!
the (almost) last things we hear her say in messiah are literally, “duncan, duncan, he’s [paul’s] gone! i need you duncan, love me!”
then, children of dune occurs. it’s nine years after paul wandered into the desert, AND ALIA STILL WEARS YELLOW, THE FREMEN COLOR OF MOURNING. she hates him and loves him and hates him and loves him and can’t stay out of a possessed trance for more than five minutes. rather than help her as the people around her notice her falling victim to the voices inside her, they ice her out, even her former lover, and call her abomination, trying to send her to her death and looking upon her with disgust. leto ii and ghanima, who she raised since birth, have no sympathy for her.
the only person we really see her close with is irulan tbh. which like. oh i love their dynamic. they went from being curt and uncaring with one another in messiah to being one another’s only comfort in children (for irulan loved paul too). still, irulan distances herself the more wrapped up in her own head alia becomes. when jessica returns to arrakis, she does nothing but stand by (and encourage alia’s execution) as she watches her daughter slip away as a result of her selfish choices!!
after alia finds out paul is alive, god there is so much conflict going on within her. the last time she saw him, they loved one another with a love that was more than love, but now, he’s preaching that everything they’ve built is a blasphemy and alia should be overthrown. she wants him dead but she wants him alive but she wants him dead but she wants him alive and she wants to see him but she hopes it isn’t him but she wants to see him. her big brother.
when she finally does see him, he looks her in the eyes and calls her a blasphemy.
then, paul is stabbed. alia watches him die, and to me, that is when the last string within her finally snaps. she turns to jessica and shouts, “that was paul they just killed!”
so many voices fight to overtake her, including her grandfather, baron harkonnen, who had been possessing her up until this point, but she is just so, so tired and so hurt and so unloved that she can’t do it anymore. she doesn’t even bother to fight. she jumps to her death and does not scream on the way down.
and this is what gets me too. we know it was her decision, the last decision she ever got to make of her own volition, and it was one of self-destruction. the baron was screaming at her not to do it — everyone else watched as it happened — but she did it anyway, and honestly, she found more peace in death than she ever did in life.
god i could talk about her for hours i love her so much she’s my girl my love i need to wrap her (and paul) up in little blankets and hold them so close.
also there is just…something about jessica watching both her children die in front of her. and the comparison she made in the first book when alia walks into her room and she thinks, “she reminds me of paul at that age” with both their big, curious eyes and quiet mannerisms and OH😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
#god i spent forever typing this out#this is definitely more than you asked for but#oh i just love her#alia atreides#st alia of the knife#alia ):#my girl my girl my GIRL#astra’s asks#dune
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How To Train Your Cowboy | Rhett Abbott x Reader
Word Count: 5,000
Cross Posted on AO3
Warnings & Notes: 18+, Fem!Reader, light usage of a crop, cunnilingus, begging, overuse of Ma'am, edging, just your average dom!reader and sub!Rhett :) because you've gotta discipline your cowboy every once in a while <3
Rhett's headliner is beginning to fall down.
The more he tinkers with this truck, the more problems arise. By no fault of his own. There's only so much you can do for a truck that's old enough to drink legally in the US. Has never known anything more than ranch work that puts its mechanics to the test on the daily. There isn't an inch of this vehicle that hasn't been scratched. The seatbelts are fraying; the cloth interior bleached from two decades in the harsh sunlight.
And now, after days upon days of fixing an issue with the rapidly cracking dashboard, the goddamn headliner is coming down. Reaching up, you press it back into place; it's far from a fix, falling down the moment you let go of it.
No matter how you try, it refuses to listen.
Rhett and his truck have many things in common.
Stubborn. Bull-headed. With the intellect of a century-old mule. Always out looking for trouble if it doesn't find him first. As territorial as an unneutered dog.
"W're home." Speak of the devil.
"I'm aware, genius," you can't even look at him right now, nevermind put up with hearing that god-forsaken drawl that slips out when he's had a beer or two. Never the good beer either; always the cheapest thing in the gas station because the idiot values a few cents over his own tastebuds.
If he even has them.
The truck door squeals as you open it, shrill, ear-splitting. Only serves to make you grind your teeth as you make a beeline for the door. Your nerves so tightly wound that even the gentle breeze is enough to cause them to begin fraying at the edges, threatening to snap.
"Sweetie—"
"I don't want to hear it, Rhett." Opening the door a little bit too hard; the only thing stopping it from being thrown open is the big hand that catches the top of it. Ugh.
"Please just listen to me?" He tries again; you're not facing him, but you can already feel those puppy eyes pleading with you.
Those damn eyes have you so hooked that even the mere memory of them has you folding. "So you don't want to listen to me," you're struggling to keep your tone even, "but you want me to listen to you?"
Familiar arms wind around your belly, a nose nuzzling into the side of your neck, "I'm sorry."
You want to be angry. You want to raise hell and give him a million and one reasons to regret pissing you off. But the longer he holds you, warm chest melting away the tension in your back, the harder it is to be upset.
But just because it's harder doesn't mean it's impossible.
Stepping free of his grasp, you head for the bedroom. These damn clothes are starting to bug you; jeans too tight, shirt a little too scratchy for comfort. In hindsight, leaving your clothes out on the dresser was the best move you ever could have made. Your favorite lounge shorts and one of Rhett's old shirts lie on the very top of the stack, so easy for you to step into.
A red leather heart pokes out from beneath the pile.
Hm.
"Look, Trevor was the one who started the fight," you're not sure when Rhett appeared in the doorway, but he's there, holding onto the top of the frame. His eyes now concealed by the brim of his hat. You're not sure if you're thankful or disappointed. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"Walk away?" Tossing your hands up, "do something that doesn't give the Tillersons a reason to finally lay you in the grave?"
Rhett's shoulders stiffen, rising, his shirt coming up just enough to allow you a glimpse of that soft, pale tummy. Not for long, though, because now he's coming closer. "You really think I can't handle a little tussle with some rich asshole?"
"It's not about that," the backs of your knees bump into your computer chair, "it's about you learning to listen."
What words reside in Rhett's throat are left to die because your fingers tangle in the hair resting at the nape of his neck and tug.
And he crumbles.
Mouth ajar, eyes glazing over with something softer as you guide him down, knees hitting the floor with such a loud thump that you're certain they'll be bruised in the morning. He almost beats his hat, knocked clean off his head by your hand, landing with its brim flat on the floor. Under normal circumstances, he'd fuss about it not being brim up.
Not once does he look away from you. Wordless.
The chair squeaks as you settle into it. Seems everything is doing that today. "I can't take you anywhere without you acting like a feral brat," letting go of his hair, "now, can you be decent for me and get these clothes off? Hm?"
There's the obedience you were seeking. Those pretty hands are nothing but a blur as they fiddle with his belt buckle, opening it so quickly that the gaudy attachment falls off entirely. Between his determination to get those tight jeans off and fumbling with his shirt buttons, he doesn't notice you reaching overhead to take hold of that little red heart.
A crop you so lovingly purchased this past Valentine's day. Leaving perfect, heart-shaped marks in its wake.
Rhett hates it.
With his clothes shoved to the side for the future variants of yourselves to pick up later, he returns to you. Cheek pressed against the inside of your left knee, peering up at you from under those thick lashes.
The longer you look at his hat on the floor, the more it bugs you. "Pick it up," motioning toward it with the crop.
His hand leaves his side.
"Without your hands." Freezing. Blinking once. Twice.
Again, he reaches for it. Smooth leather comes down on his ass, and he jumps. No words are shared; he knows why it happened, and based on how you're running the crop against the curve of his ass, he knows you'll do it again if provoked.
For a moment, you think he's going to fight you on it further. Give you a run for your money, as he has so, so many times before. But then you catch on to that shaky breath that shudders out of him.
He folds.
Using his hands only to brace himself against the floor, he bends down and gingerly picks it up with his teeth. A heart-shaped mark stands proudly on his ass. He's unable to meet your eye as he sits back up, the edge of his favorite cowboy hat dangling from between pink lips. Oh, oh, those ears. The tips of them are turning cherry red.
Holding it by the crown, you take it from him, lifting it and placing it right atop your head.
On his own accord, he smushes his cheek against your knee, and you know exactly what he's trying to ask for. It's the only clue you need to understand why he's falling into this so easily. You have something he wants.
"Aw," cooing, you take him by the jaw, guiding his head up, "is my pretty boy wanting to eat me out?"
Rhett's breath hitches. Nod.
Gripping his jaw tighter, you lean down, "use your words."
"I," the proximity gives him no escape from your fiery gaze; no matter how hard he tries, he can't avoid it. "I wanna eat you out."
"You'll have to ask nicer than that," you can't help but smile as you say it; you were setting him up for this one.
Rhett's proper squirming now; the only thing that keeps him from pulling out of your grasp is the soft tap of the crop. "Ma'am, " he breathes, shaky, "can I please eat you out?
Silence. In fact, you pull away. Only because the position is somewhat uncomfortable for your back, but Rhett doesn't interpret it that way.
He panics. "Please, ma'am," his voice wavering as he begs oh so sweetly, "please let me eat your pussy."
Cute, but you're not quite convinced that he deserves to have what he wants so easily. He didn't listen earlier, so why should you fulfill his little pleas? But he's so damn pliant before you that you almost give, just as easily as those lips do when you press your thumb against them. Opening up, wet tongue greeting it like a goddamn welcome mat.
"No." God, he deflates like a balloon, his disappointment visible in the poorly concealed frown that flickers across his face. You might as well have just popped his favorite balloon and kicked him out while you were at it.
Fine.
Fine.
"You have to convince me first," you follow up with some pressure on his tongue, pinning it down, "without your words."
There's that hopeful crinkle in his eyes; it's only been gone for a couple of seconds, thirty at most, but it feels like you've gone a lifetime without seeing it. Your thumb glistens as you take it from him, and you almost expect him to get to work the moment you do, but he stays still.
Waiting.
Hm. You wonder if he'll remember those old commands from this past summer when the two of you got your first crop. You think you spent a week doing nothing but play with it.
The crop lightly taps at the small of his back, nothing more than a gentle poke of the leather, once, twice, thrice. His eyebrows furrow.
Slowly, as if unsure about this, he leans forward, pressing a tentative kiss to the inside of your right knee. So he does remember.
One kiss, then another, chaste at first. The rough stubble on his cheek tickles, such a strange sensation to feel between your legs, but any chafing is easily kissed away by those thin lips, tongue soothing over each one.
Gradually making his way up, up, up, until he's pushing back your lounge shorts with his nose, insistent to suck at the skin hidden by the material. You can already feel the marks he's leaving behind, rapidly darkening spots that shimmer with his handiwork, carefully left behind in the areas your shorts can conceal.
"That's enough for that leg," you murmur, tangling your hand in his hair. Your request falls on deaf ears; Rhett doesn't so much as open his eyes, too busy showering your inner thigh with his attention.
A resounding smack rings through the room, followed by a surprised, breathy moan as he switches to your neglected thigh. Poor thing has two hearts on his ass now.
Maybe it's because the skin hasn't had any attention yet, but his tongue feels like lava against you, burning invisible holes everywhere he goes. Kissing, licking, up from your knee until his tongue is scraping against the edge of your panties. Bringing the crop back up, you tap his lower back once. No reaction. Did two taps mean to stop? You can't quite remember.
It must have been two because that's what brings him to a screeching halt, eyes darting upward, lips red and swollen from his efforts.
There was a question you were burning to ask, but you can't stop yourself from leaning down to kiss those pretty lips. You haven't done anything to him yet, and he's already whining against you. Only serves to make the kiss wetter, mouth never quite closing. It's far too easy to reach down between his legs and take hold of him, pleased when he jumps into your grasp.
"Are you going to be a good boy for me?" You ask against his lips, stealing another lingering peck.
Rhett's eyes flutter when you flick your wrist on that upward stroke, "yes, ma'am."
He's already dripping into your palm; each pass over that hard cock leaves him wetter and wetter. The angle is awkward, your shoulder aching with the strain of reaching all the way down, but it's hard to focus on when your thumb flicks over his weeping head. Body jolts with a strained whimper as you repeat it.
"Remind me again what you want?" You haven't forgotten, but it's so much fun to see him squirm.
Silence.
That mouth opens, but he doesn't quite form a word. Too shy to ask for it, despite having done so just a few minutes ago.
"No?" Letting go of his heavy cock, you go to stand, "alright, then."
"Please," breathy, desperate, like the words are being strangled out of him, "please, please let me—" hiccup, "please let me eat your pussy, please, just let me—" there's more he's trying to say, but as quickly as the flood gates opened, they close.
There it is.
Sitting back down, "alright, alright," you pinch his cheek, "don't start crying on me, now."
His hands obediently follow as you guide them up to the waistband of your shorts, slipping them past your hips and down your legs. You don't know where they wind up because the moment Rhett's got them off, he's nudging his nose between your legs. Breath hot against your sensitive core, but such a far cry from the burning tongue that opens you up. Broad, flat, like he's savoring every second of your taste.
"Someone's eager," your amusement is drowned out by the sweet, sweet sensation of him circling your clit.
Muscled arms wrap around your hips, anchoring you down, but you get the feeling it's more for him than you. Holding on to keep himself from floating away as he laps at your entrance, dipping inside just enough for you to feel yourself open up around that wet muscle. Nose poking at your clit, the slightest stimulation that has you squirming in the chair. Wetness drips down between your legs, and it's not coming from you.
"Fuck, baby," pulling on his hair to feel him groan into you, "look at you, you're fucking drooling."
Your words are acknowledged by a breathy little grunt, meeting your eye while he rises to work your sensitive clit. Flitting his pointed tongue against where you're most sensitive, those dark blues flutter shut, so obnoxiously content, while you're left to gasp for air that fails to soothe your burning lungs.
The edge of his hat bumps into the chair, falling forward into your face. You're glad Rhett's eyes are closed because you're certain he'd laugh as you inevitably take it off. The damn thing is too big.
His eagerness alone is enough to have that invisible coil tightening, spurred on by the sloppy suction on your clit, loud, bouncing off the walls and down the halls. So, so eager to please you that you feel dizzy. You don't think he's even considered the concept of stopping, even to catch his breath.
"Rhett." He knows what you mean by that. Frowning, he bats those eyes up at you, looking like a goddamn kicked puppy.
When he doesn't show signs of stopping, you have to take matters into your own hands, pulling him back by his hair. Fuck, his chin is absolutely dripping. Quiet, upset little sounds leave him, the fruit of his efforts to hold himself back from fighting you on this.
"Please?"
You're going to faint.
You genuinely think you're going to faint.
"Get up on the bed," wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, "and maybe I'll let you."
Good lord, you'll have to wipe the chair down later. There's a wet spot the size of Texas on it. Rhett merely sits on the edge of the bed, unsure of where you're sending him and in what position. A part of you expects him to tilt his head to the side like a confused puppy dog.
"On your back," and he just about falls backward. The bastard makes sure his head winds up on his pillow, though. You can't even be mad; he wrecked his neck falling off that bull tonight.
Eager hands welcome you as a leg swings over his hips, your cunt resting against his neglected cock. It's too easy to plant your hands on his chest for leverage and grind against him, feeling how he spreads you open.
"Oh," Rhett's meek gasp doesn't go unheard, "oh, that's—"
"Do you like that?" You chirp, feigning innocence as you work up a little rhythm, rubbing back and forth against him.
"Yes, ma'am," he gasps, gripping your hips, "I...I do."
The soft underside of his head drags so nicely on your clit, so perfect that it's as if he were made to fit against you like this. On any other day, you'd spend more time here, but you're still trying to make a point here.
It takes some maneuvering, but soon you're hovering right above Rhett's eager mouth, already open and waiting for permission to taste you again. A downright addict, both of his hands resting loosely on your hips, rubbing loose circles into them.
"Touch yourself for me," you order, combing your fingers through his messy hair.
His dominant hand, the left one, falls from your body. There's no need to look over and see when he takes hold of himself; those fluttering eyelashes tell you everything you need to know.
You're a touch hesitant to come down completely, sort of hovering as you sit on his pretty, waiting face. But Rhett notices, and in the strangest turn of events, he takes your hips in both hands and pulls you all the way down onto him.
"You ain't gon' break me, ma'am," words spoken right into your dripping cunt, "I promise."
And then it's right back to work, licking, slurping happily at your pussy, working himself in the same tune. It's hard to decide where to look, the upward turn of those closed eyes or the reflection in the wide mirror that stands next to the bed. There's nothing quite like watching Rhett's hips rise into his own masterful touch, so obscenely needy.
That free hand of his curls around your thigh, using it for leverage as he works up into your cunt, fucking you with his tongue. For every upward stroke along his length, it rises, licking as far as he can reach. All the while, that soft nose of his intentionally grinds into your clit in loose circles that have you squirming.
"Quit touching yourself," your command is breathy; what power it held is lost to whatever magic Rhett's tongue possesses.
Two blue eyes squint up at you; that huff against your labia is anything but happy, but he lets go of himself, hard length slapping against his lower belly. Leaking, a deep shade of ruby red that cannot be comfortable to deal with.
Combing your fingers through his hair, "good boy." In a fraction of a second, that frustration melts; always so happy to hear those two little words. Laving his tongue against your clit with no real indication of what he's going to do next, he hums into you.
Reaching behind yourself, you take hold of that heavy cock of his, feeling how he jumps from the simple touch. It's difficult to properly stroke him in this position, but his hips rise on their own accord, fucking himself into your loose grasp. So sensitive that he whimpers around that little button, barely able to pacify his sweet sounds. Each one rattles up your spine, only serving to make you wind tighter and tighter.
And unfortunately, you have no intentions to cum on his face today.
There's an ache in your hips as you pull away, enough to distract you from the pitiful noise that rattles out of those swollen lips, unsure of what you're doing but unhappy that he's had to stop again. Wordless, you take him by the wrist, and together, you wrap your hands around his pretty, weeping cock.
"Ma'am?" That big hand of his is so loose around yours, at a loss for what to do.
"It's okay," rolling your palm over that dripping head to see him jump. Not one bit of him seems to believe you, but he follows along; your hand practically disappearing beneath his. It's at times like these that it's hard to tell if his cock is big or if your hand is just small.
You don't remember seeing those eyes shut, but they spring open when you let go of his cock in favor of gently toying with his balls. Breath catching in his throat as you lightly roll them around in your loose hand; they've always been sensitive, but they're even more so post-rodeo.
"Feels—" sharp inhale when your thumb unintentionally twitches against them, "feels good."
Tentatively, when you don't quit playing with them, he reaches up to stroke himself, hips bucking up into the touch. Gripping the sheets with the other hand, that pretty mouth falls open, caught up in the sensation. God, you think you could listen to those breathy grunts all day.
Then you're moving, reaching into the bedside table in search of that nearly-empty bottle of lube, tossing it in his general direction when you find it. He knows what to do with it; you're still traumatized from the last time you used it. When the cap popped off, and a brand-new bottle was spilled all over the kitchen floor.
"Thank—" he can't speak, too engrossed in how he's toying with the crown of his dick to formulate a proper sentence.
Poor thing has no idea that you've got other ideas for how this will end. Fighting to conceal the devilish smile on your face, you watch as he works himself. Gradually becoming more frantic the closer he gets because, after all, you've never told him to...
"Stop." That frustrated wail is music to your ears.
Rhett could fight you on this. Three or four more strokes and he'd be painting that soft belly with pearly white ropes, whimpering to high heaven as his orgasm rocked through him. But he doesn't; has to completely let go of himself in order to stop. Pawing at the sheets, squirming, desperate for a relief that never comes.
"Ma'am," tears prick at the corners of his eyes, "Ma'am, please."
"You know," you hum as you lay down next to him, the mattress like heaven beneath you, "you wouldn't be in this situation if you would have listened to me."
And your cowboy just doesn't seem to know what expression to make. Flickering between disappointment, shame, and something you can't name, something that makes his lower lip wobble and his eyes dart to the bruises that litter his rib cage. Scatterings of red and purple, hand delivered by the hands of a Tillerson. "I'm sorry."
Parting your legs, you beckon him closer, "get between my legs, sweet boy."
You can't help but grin when you catch glimpse of the fading heart on his ass, almost wishing he'd defied you further. A dozen of them would have looked so nice on that pale skin. The head of his cock bumps against your hickey-ridden thighs as he settles between your legs, smoothing his shaky hands up your knees.
Reaching between your legs, you guide his wet, lubed cock to nudge at your dripping entrance, still wet with his saliva.
Three taps.
He gets the message, and you find yourself gently being split open, stretching to take him in. Inch by inch, fluttering as his head grazes the neglected bundle of nerves inside, and that alone is enough to have him collapsing onto his forearms, nose nuzzling your cheek. Something's bumping against the top of your head.
Oh.
"Thank you," lifting your head for him to slide the pillow beneath your head.
Easing in further, Rhett peppers your cheek with kisses. Tiny, dainty little pecks that distract from the never-ending length that seems to reach for your lungs. Stringing you thin, clenching, and unclenching around him. Finally, fucking finally, you're met with the pleasant relief of his balls settling against your ass, hips coming flush with yours.
"Fuck, Ma'am," as your nails rake up his soft, muscled back, he shudders from head to toe. Sensitive. So, so sensitive. "Fuck, you feel good around me."
There's a lock of hair that's escaped from behind his ear, hanging in his face until you tuck it back into place, "you can move."
With a shaky breath, he withdraws. Halfway would be an overstatement, a shadow of his usual test stroke, bottoming back out in your dripping pussy with a needy groan. This lack of power is so different; incapable of anything but fucking into you in short, slow strokes that never let you feel empty.
"You're squeezin' 'round me so tight," the squelch of your wetness sounds so goddamn filthy in this quiet bedroom. Only egged on by the way he rubs against that soft spot within you, this position allowing him to shower it with attention, ripping the noises right out of your throat.
Reaching down, your fingertips find your clit, so sensitive yourself that you clamp down around him with a whine. "Rhett."
You only spur him on, dropping his head down into the pillow, and his hips start to move quicker. Thick cock pumping in and out of you, giving your quivering pussy no chance to keep up with those jerky motions. Every inward pump has you gasping for breath that you just can't seem to capture, struggling to keep your fingers on your drenched sex.
"Thank you, Ma'am," he murmurs directly into your ear, "thank you for letting me fuck your tight little pussy."
Rhett's nose is pressing into your lower jaw, keening into your neck with every move he makes. In and out, dragging so perfectly against the nerves in your walls that you see stars sparkling behind your eyelids. Those thrusts are getting twitchy, quicker, beating against that little spot, and God, fuck, you can feel yourself getting close.
Fluttering around him, you work yourself a little faster, selfishly seeking that ledge you've seen twice tonight. Clamping down tighter, thighs squeezing his trembling hips as those soft noises are punched right out of your throat.
"Rhett, Rhett," your eyes can barely open, that familiar wetness growing as his cock head kisses those nerves, pressing harder on your clit now. You're gonna cum; you're gonna cum, you're—
"Baby, don't you dare cum in me."
That confused little gasp is all you need. One little secondary twitch against those nerves, and you're cumming on his cock. Head floating right off your shoulders, lost in the strained cry above your head as it washes over you. Muscles tightening, fluttering like a hundred tiny butterflies.
The clouds that wrap around you are practically vibrating, so warm that you feel like you've crawled under a dozen blankets. Your ears are ringing.
And that cloud is...raining?
Eyes snapping open. Rhett's not above you anymore. No, he's completely pulled out of you; you're pretty sure that's his cock bumping against your leg. His face is buried in your belly, arms wrapped around you, quivering like a leaf in the wind. Like if he lets go of you, he'll be blown away.
"Rhett?"
Reaching down, you take hold of his scruffy jaw, guiding him up to look at you. Tears well in those ocean blues, dripping down his cheeks, but nowhere near the tidal wave he's so desperately holding back. Bottom lip quivering with the effort of it.
You think you've gotten your point across a little too well.
"Come here," patting the empty space on the pillow for him to fill, "let me take care of you, sweet boy."
Rhett's nose nuzzles into the side of your cheek, laying on his side, shoulders tucked beneath your non-dominant arm. While your other reaches over, taking hold of that wet, purpling length.
"Please," he whimpers, "please...please let me..."
"You can cum," leaning your sweaty forehead against him, your hand starts to work. Stroking up and down, twisting when you pass over his crown in the same fashion he'd been working himself previously.
With him so close, you're privy to each and every weakened noise, breathy gasps, and pitchy whimpers dripping from his lips like honey. So, so noisy as he twitches in your hand. Doesn't need much attention to get him close again, hips writhing as you quicken.
"'m gonna," hiccup, "baby 'm gonna...!"
"Come on, sweet boy," you coo, "cum for me."
His lips fall open, but not a noise can escape him. Strangled into complete, utter silence as he cums in your hand, painting it and your belly as his orgasm finally, finally washes over him. He's so close that you can't see his face change, but fuck, do his eyes roll back behind those fluttering lids.
That oversensitive twitch is what slows your hand, coaxing him through those little shock waves that shake his entire body. With a soft sound, his softening cock thumps against your belly.
He's not quite there.
Well, he is, but he's so blissfully out of it that his bones might as well be made of jelly. That cum drunk smile glistens on his sweaty face, dopey, a little bigger than normal.
"Such a good boy for me," you murmur into his temple, reaching up to rub those sore, bruised ribs of his. No, rubbing them isn't enough.
Rolling him onto his back, you lean down to press kisses on them. Each bruise deserving of a peck, whether it be dark purple or the faintest red, feather-light, so as to not hurt him. Rhett cards his nails against your scalp, humming contentedly.
"What're ya doin'?" Voice deep, rumbly, like he's just woken up. "You kissin' me better?"
"Of course," in between kisses.
Calloused fingers tap the back of your head. Once. Twice.
Stop.
"Y'don't gotta do that," he yawns, guiding you up so he can steal a kiss.
Huffing, you steal one for yourself. "Ever heard of aftercare, moron?"
"Kisses on lips are better than kisses on ribs," in his head, he probably thinks he sounds like a goddamn poet. "Can we take one of those bubble baths?"
Yeah. Yeah, a bubble bath sounds nice right now.
It's exactly a week later when you walk into the exact same situation. Rhett's fresh off his last bull of the night, still panting, nose to nose with Trevor Tillerson. You don't know what Trevor's saying, but it's got Rhett's jaw clenched so tight you fear his teeth will crack.
His eyes land on your frame. Dart back to Trevor.
He smiles and walks away.
"I'm listenin'," he grumbles, taking you by the hand, "but in my head, I've unhinged his jaw."
They say you can't train a cowboy, but you think you've found a pretty damn good method.
#rhett abbott smut#rhett abbott x y/n#rhett abbott x reader#rhett abbott#ao3 oneshot#oneshot#rhett abbott outer range#outer range fic#outer range#outer range amazon#rhett abbott imagine#rhett abbott x you#reader self insert#self insert#x reader#reader insert#fem reader
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Sleepless
It's been 2 months since you started living with your boyfriend. But you regretted sleeping in the same bed. Kenma would wake you up every night snoring like an old man
Even though you fell asleep before that, his snoring was enough to wake you up from your deep and sweet sleep.
You experienced the same thing that night. You covered your ears by grasping both sides of the pillow. But it didn't help. Looks like you were going to be sleepy again tonight.
When you could hug your boyfriend and sleep peacefully, you had to leave your warm bed because of this damn habit of Kenma. You took your blanket and pillow and went to the living room. It wouldn't be as comfortable as a bed, and it wouldn't be as comfortable as sleeping in Kenma's bosom. But you had to.
You laid your bed in the most comfortable place you could find on the sofa and pulled the blanket over you to try to sleep.
When you woke up the next morning, you saw Kenma yawning into the living room through the door.
“Good morning,” he said, closing his yawning mouth.
You frowned and gave your boyfriend a scary look with your under-eye bags swollen from lack of sleep.
"To you too…"
“Did you sleep here at night? I couldn't find you with me in the morning"
“When you snored like a cigarette-aholic old man out of breath, what did you expect me to do? How many times have I told you to find a cure for your snoring! Is it that hard to go to the doctor?"
“Who is snoring? Me? Come on, for God's sake Y/N.”
As if you hadn't suffered enough from Kenma's snoring that had been bothering you for a long time, it also infuriated you that she denied snoring.
“Kenma, don't drive me crazy! You snore so much it almost feels like ten chainsaws are working at the same time. I hope you're happy that you've created insomnia in someone who doesn't have insomnia."
His hand reached out to you. She took a lock of her messy hair between her finger and tucked it behind her ear.
"Sorry. I was thoughtless. I promise you I will go to the doctor as soon as possible. But now I want you to get some sleep. With me"
“I will not sleep with you in a pig eye!”
“Oh you dumb! I'm already going to play the game. You lie on my lap. Don't worry, I play quietly. I'll caress your head until you fall asleep. I'll play games after you sleep too"
Kenma had managed to convince you with his soft words. You were just angry at your boyfriend for keeping you up, now you've softened.
You accepted his offer. You went to your room. Kenma placed a pillow on her lap and slapped the pillow for you to lie there.
“Come here y/n”
You lay your head on Kenma's lap. As soon as you put your head down, he covered yourself and started caressing your hair.
He kissed your head several times. When he felt your breathing slow, he didn't stop caressing your head until you were sure you were asleep.
When you fell asleep, he began to play quietly, being careful not to wake you up.
#haikyuu x imagines#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#hq x reader#hq x y/n#kenma kozume#kenma kozume x reader#kenma scenario#kenma x reader#imagine kenma kozume#kenma x you#kenma imagine#kenma kozume x you#kenma fanfic#kenma x y/n#hq kenma#haikyu x reader
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Hey, question to ask for Feral JD au, how did the brothers learn how to cope with JD's situation? Thank you and love your art btw
I'm not sure what exactly you mean by 'situation' but I'm gonna assume your talking about just his general Feral-ness and how they would potentially live together.
So it would take each brother some one on one time with JD to really get a read on his new behaviors. Its also not just a one way street tho. Both sides will have to put in a lot of work, JD getting better at not panicking and going into immediate fight(bite) or flight mode when he gets to overwhelmed and his brothers being more understanding of him being significantly different then he was. Understanding that he's not going to just change back to the person he used to be but that he's still there brother deep down. old habit die hard i guess.
They all basically have different kinds of relationships outside of being family
Branch and John have a very close relationship and understand each other on a deeper level then the others. Both being separated from society for years. JD being full feral and Branch being his own bit of feral to a degree. JD being now extremely quite and Branch naturally being just a quit person. They get along surprising well with one another. They have one of those "you thinking what I'm thinking?" kind of vibes were they can just look at each other and know what to do.
Floyd and JD have a very comfortable and supportive relationship. JD always feels comfortable being near or around Floyd regardless of what's happening. Same goes for Floyd considering JD has saved him so many times at this point. Also JD 100% carries Floyd around on his back so Floyd doesn't get to tired if he has to go anywhere since he's still recovering and all. Floyd finds it really fun and loves how fast JD can still run well carrying him. If the brother every start a race somewhere Floyd always wins because JD carries him there. He gets on the others nerves very quickly but they cant stay mad because Floyd just looks so damn happy every time.
Clay is a tough one since they were already on rocky terms before the break up and now its like trying to talk to a complete stranger for both of them. They tend to just naturally avoid each other but Clay's the biggest supporter to JD when it comes to reintroducing him back into society.
Bruce is another interesting case because it was very difficult for him to except how much his closest sibling had changed over the 20+ years they spent apart. It takes a bit for this to settle between the two both having regrets about the other but once that's all cleared up they hang out anytime Bruce has free time. They defiantly get into fun wrestling matches rolling around through the grass (JD could easily win every match but lets the score stay about 50/50 because he wants Bruce to have fun too) Also sun bathing is one of their favorite activities, feels good on the old bones.
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Get Along Sweater
Warnings: Slight mentions of death? Kinda, nothing specific just mention that reader could die at any moment given walkers. Unedited
Synopsis: 🤠 im not giving one but it's fluff ☹️ <3
As winter slowly approached, you slowly recalled how it used to be. Snow falling, watching kids from inside the warmth of your old home. Hot cocoa, Christmas, family, gifts, even the damned carolists you used to hate so dearly, now missing them and their ballads.
You should just be glad to be alive, but you missed how it used to be. You missed your family, friends, god knows what you'd give for one more Christmas.
But, alas good things come from hardship. And that lead you to meet a new family, but most importantly you'd met Carl whom was easily the closest person to family you had. He'd been your best-friend since you'd first met, having been with Andrea and Amy when the group collided.
You, Carl, and Sophia had all three been friends being roughly the same age, until the inevitable. However, Sophia's death brought the two of you evermore close, experiencing trauma together strengthening your already strong bond.
With all other struggles through the years, it became obvious to pretty much anyone but you and Carl that you two were essentially meant to be; albeit whether that mean as friends, lovers, or anything else under the sun. Though, it was inevitable that you and Carl ended up catching feelings for one another.
Alas, runs were frequent between the two of you. Sometimes this was literally 'runs' rather than gathering supplies, simply trying to enjoy what was left of the world. It was hard to distract from flesh eating beings, however overtime it became easier, the closer you got.
Today was no different than any other, going out for a silly day run in the forest, trying to get all the fun out before the winter became to harsh to do so. It was all fun in games until you decided it was warm enough out to leave your jacket behind. How stupid.
Carl went on and on about something as you walked, by now you'd completely lost track of what he was spilling. However, Carl knew you all to well, so when he heard no response he'd found himself slowing to match your pace. "Regretting not listening to me now, huh?" He grinned, having tried to convince you to bring a jacket to begin with.
"No. I don't regret anything ever, Grimes." You glared, freezing your ass off as he laughed at you. "Okay, okay." He sighed, pulling his left arm from his jacket. "I'm a generous friend, Y/n." He wrapped the other half of his jacket around you, essentially in compassing you both in a get along shirt.
See normally, this would be a great friend act in which you should simply be grateful. However, Carl and you were more than 'great friend act'-s. Sometimes the two of you would find any excuse to be closer than friends, this being an example you hadn't realized. Carl wasn't cold, he could've easily shrugged off his jacket and given it to you for borrow, however he wanted to be close to you.
"You're like a heating-pad geez, Grimes." He laughed, rolling his eyes at you and the two of you tried to match your pace. It wasn't hard considering the two of you had plenty of time to get back. Therefore walking slower than you both normally would've.
You two walked for a couple of minutes in comfortable silence, the chirps of the night were nice in a world like this. Sometimes nights like these made you both forget everything that you've experienced, whether death, fear, killing, it didn't matter, it was gone for awhile. And that meant so much.
"I like this." You sighed, seeing your breath froth in front of your mouth, indicating the vicious cold surrounding you and Carl. "Like what?" Carl looked over at you, curiously. He too liked this, hanging out with you, being close. If he was to come clean to himself these were the moments that drove the butterflies in his stomach. There weren't many people around anymore, but even if there was he was sure he would have chosen you.
"This, us." You paused, you usually weren't ballsy but it was an apocalypse, you could die tomorrow and everything you felt would go with you. "I like you Carl. Hanging out, you make biters look like nothing. I could die tomorrow and I'd just be glad I got to spend today with you. It's weird, you make it all disappear. No one else has ever been able to do that."
He looked at you slowly taking your words in as he pursed his lips, "I like you too. It sounds sappy and lame, but you do the same for me." He grinned, looking back to the road ahead. "Plus, you're not like.. the lamest."
"Thanks, Grimes. That means /so/ much." You rolled your eyes, taking his left hand in your right. "Hey, I'm simply killing the sappy stories." He defended, throwing his free hand up in a joking manner. "You know I think like everyone knew this would happen."
He smiled, looking at you from the corner of his eye, "Definitely."
#carl grimes oneshot#carl#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes x reader#the walking dead#twd#twd fluff#the walking dead fluff#the walking dead x reader
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Beeeeeans? I am so sick with the Rona and I just wanted to ask if you have any cute Sanuso / Namivivi proposal headcanons to heal my spirits (if you want to and if you have the energy I just have been thinking about fluffy wedding stuff so much.)
Sanji would be the type of chef who plans to swoon their darling with the old “ring on the dessert” thing I feel. It’s classic, it’s stylish, he has witnessed a many proposal at the baratie like this and it always ended well …. And then he proudly gets up after their dinner to get the ice cream and Usopp is all “Thanks but I’m not hungry anymore.” Five course meal may have been little overdoing it. Starts to persuade Usopp into eating just a little more, which in turn makes Usopp a bit annoyed “Thanks but no thanks. Listen, what’s your issue? You know Luffy will gladly eat anything you-” “I DONT WANT LUFFY TO EAT IT.” Culminates in Sanji stomping off to the kitchen and fishing the ring off his painstakingly made desert and proposing old school style, which makes him a bit more nervous because the ice cream thing was a charm point and also his forte, even if Usopp said no they would still probably share the desert together.
Of course everything goes well and Usopp accepts and of course Luffy walks by them five minutes later with the sundae in hand all “Congrats! But you’re missing out Usopp, this is amazing”
Sorry for the late reply!!! I really hope you get better :(( <33 I'm a sucker for marriage and proposal headcanons!!!! And what you all said is so cute because of course Sanji would make his proposal about food!!
Okay!! So little cute proposal headcanons for you to get better!!
Sanuso:
Sanji and Usopp would propose to each other at the same time. That's how in sync they are. They'd be extremely anxious all day long waiting for the moment and they would end up doing it at the same time. And I think they're beautiful and stupid.
Thinking about Sanji putting the ring on a champagne glass and Usopp swallowing it. Completely clueless. Sanji starts to panic.
Usopp would make the biggest public performance to ask Sanji to marry him. Fireworks. A whole damn show. Nami would definitely help. It's the most beautiful thing in the world.
Fuck proposals, actually Sogeking goes to whole cake island, saves Sanji and they get married right there.
Following the last concept, kind of, I truly think Sanji would instantly ask Usopp to marry him the second they find each other again in Wano.
Namivivi:
I know we talk a lot about Zolu's proposal being that scene of Pirates of the Caribbean but I think it would fit Namivivi too so much!!
Thinking about Vivi proposing to Nami in a more traditional way. Like. Arabasta's traditions or something. Very Princess/Fairytail like. They'd have a very cute wedding with Arabasta dresses!!!
They meet again!! But Vivi has to stay in Arabasta for reasons (manga related reasons iykyk). They're all saying goodbye, Sunny already sailing away, and before Nami can regret anything she impulsively yells at Vivi from far away and asks her to marry her when they see each other again.
They have a very romantic and poetic night together before they have to separate again :( I think they'd even get married that night.
Sick Nami when Drum Island happens and Vivi telling her that once she gets better they're gonna get married (quick lesbian love as usual but for these two is true love)
#they're the cutest thing#btw gonna write a fic someday with these ideas y'all are forbbiden from stealing them hehe#i hope you liked it!! i wish i could've explained these better but i wrote this a bit quickly#one piece#usopp#black leg sanji#sanuso#nami#nefertari vivi#namivivi
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HIIIIIIIII DARLING
I'm sorry my hyperactive squirrel brain is excited to request because mystic messanger has been occupying my brain.
Anyways since your requests are open I was thinking
Zen X reader confession??? Like Zen confessing to reader,how he would do it and blablabla (also if it's possible without any spoilers for the story since I'm on the 10th day rn so y'now)
Anyways eat well and don't forget to drink (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ
Thank you, dear anon! I hope you stay hydrated and eat well just as much. I had a lot of fun writing out your request! So much so that I decided to go with Zen's POV as well as your own. I hope you enjoy it :)
Zen was a hopeless romantic.
Perhaps it was just a side effect of all the exciting romance plots he always enjoyed acting out throughout his career, or maybe it was a natural part of who he was as a person. If you would ask him this directly, he wouldn't really know how to answer. Maybe, it was a combination of both. He longed for a meaningful connection with someone from a very early age, even if it wasn't necessarily romantic at the time. Songs and musicals gradually opened up his eyes to such an enormous array of breathtaking stories, full of people caring and loving ond another in so many difficult ways, both romantic as well as platonic... Something he couldn't really experience in his own home life. It was only natural for him to eventually start fantasizing about something similar on his own.
But, even despite all that... He never expected to fall for you so fast and so hard. The butterflies in his stomach he would have to deal with whenever he opened up the messenger as soon as he woke up and wondered whether or not he will see you there... how nice it would be to talk to you first thing in the morning, and how much he wanted to ask you about your plans for the day. The ticklish warmth blooming in his chest so breathtakingly whenever you would ask him about his day in turn, such genuine excitement felt in your sweet voice as he would talk to you over the phone in between his rehearsals... In fact, he got in trouble with his manager a few times already for always sneaking off to talk to you. He had no regrets. The many daydreams he would mull over in his own head as he ran his usual evening laps around his neighborhood... Thinking of how wonderful it would be to share his evening routine with you by his side. Would you two bicker like an old married couple? Or, maybe you'll stick together like glue? He couldn't help but want to find out.
It was all pretty dizzying to deal with already, in the best way possible, of course. It's been so long since he experienced the exciting feeling of falling in love.
But, when you showed up at his apartment? All worried for him of all people? He came to the realization that he was too deep to swim back out. Not like he wanted to, anyways. No matter how depressed and discouraged he would become, deep down, he knew he didn't want to let you go. You were the warm ray of sunlight he longed for. You supported him, you respected him, you encouraged him, and...
God, he hoped you would love him.
He made an effort to keep his sentimental heart under control for now. He wanted to be a proper gentleman to you! He wanted to take things nice and slow with you. Not to mention the scandal weighing down on his career currently, making his future rather unstable at best. You deserved someone who could provide for you and care for you... You deserved someone with a stable future. It wouldn't feel right for Zen to confront you with his feelings when he couldn't give you anything in return. At least, that's how he viewed it.
That is until he had to rush in to save you from that damn hacker.
Zen was aware of the danger this world possessed. Hell, he went through so many dangerous situations in his not so long lifetime, he could easily write an entire book about it, if he put his mind to it. But, nothing could compare to the paralyzing fear he felt in his very soul at the prospect of you being in danger, and him being unable to do anything about it. It made him act out in a way he hadn't in a long time. He will probably apologize to Seven for outright screaming at him to provide him the address to Rika's apartment... after giving him a piece of his mind at the party, that is.
Knowing that you were safe and sound beside him was an overwhelming relief that words couldn't describe. It was so strong, that his legs nearly gave out from underneath him the moment you two got back to his apartment. Still, he did his best to appear strong. For you. So that you could rely on him.
But... there was something else, too.
After almost losing you like that, he realized that he couldn't wait until the right moment to confess his feelings for you. Now, he knew more than ever, just how precious you became to him in a short amount of time that you have spent with him. And, truth is, he didn't want to hold back on his feelings anymore. You told him that he deserved to be selfish sometimes... So, as the day slowly faded into night, he gathered all his courage and paddled over to the tiny kitchen, where you resided currently.
"...Y/N?"
You were caught off guard and gasped as you whirled around to look at him with wide eyes. Damn it. He probably should have warned you first. You were probably still so shaken after everything that happened back at the apartment... He chastised himself internally before raising his hands up in the air to comfort you.
Well, no time like the present.
⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝
"My bad, my bad! Didn't mean to startle you. You okay?" Zen watched you with a worried expression plastered all over his beautifully sculpted face. Seeing him there caused your head to fill up with various thoughts for some reason. So many things have happened in the span of just ten measly days. And yet, it felt like months have passed. Figuring out your own feelings amid all this chaos was practically impossible!
"I- Yes, sorry! I just got lost in my head for a moment there." You laughed it off awkwardly. It was peculiar. Zen was always gorgeous, such is his fate. You thought it was only natural for you to get just a little bit flustered in his presence, especially if it's just the two of you in an enclosed space. But, right now, he was rather disheveled. His long hair was tied up in a messy bun, a couple of locks falling over his face rather adorably, his clothes were wrinkled from all the running you two went through today, and his face looked stricken with worry. And yet, somehow, you felt even more drawn to him than ever. He almost sparkled in that cheap kitchen lighting, much to your embarrassment. You couldn't even write it off on the possible moonlight, because his apartment had no windows!
As you stood staring at him, Zen began speaking with a nervous expression. "Y/N, to tell you the truth, I... have decided something after everything that happened to us today."
"Oh?" Just hearing him mention the horrible events of today's morning made all the color drain from your face. What was he going to tell you? You honestly had no idea, but, for some reason, your anxious mind came up with all sorts of worrying options. You sure hoped he wouldn't make you go back to that apartment... You were honestly not above begging if it came down to it. The thought of returning there was too much to handle.
Your chest felt incredibly tight with worry as you waited for him to continue with bated breath. Zen took a deep breath and then raised his piercing gaze back at you, making your heart skip a beat. And it wasn't due to the anxiety this time around. "What I want to say... is my true feelings. I know I already made it obvious that I like you, but... I want to say it properly this time around. I love you."
"Uh-" A small squeak slipped passed your lips as your breath got stuck in your throat. Did you hear him wrong, maybe? Did he... Did he really... So, you tried to pull yourself together and clarify. No reason to freak out just yet! "I... Did I... Did I hear that right? You... love me?"
"Yes, you heard it all precisely right. I love you, Y/N. As a person. As a partner. I love you." He didn't even hesitate. He spoke with confidence, his words were clear and loud enough for you to hear everything.
You could feel yourself freezing up again, the heat rushing to your cheeks before you could do anything to stop it. This was so different from the way you expected this conversation to go! Here you were, worrying about him sending you back to Rika's apartment, but instead he... confessed his love to you!? Amidst all the ticklish feelings of infatuation, came the feeling of great relief, making your shoulders slump forward.
Zen continued, carefully watching your reaction as he spoke. "I know that this is an inconvenient time for something like this. I know that the prospect of being with me in a romantic sense may be very stressful for you. But, please let me say this to you anyway. Y/N... I love you. I think... I think I fell for you even before we met face-to-face."
Zen's tender gaze made your legs feel weak from the intensity of his gaze. The eagerness in his beautiful ruby eyes conveyed more than even a thousand words ever could. He loved you. That's what his eyes told you. There was no doubt about it.
"You have always been so... genuinely supportive of me. You told me that I... that I am inspiring to you, both inside and out. You never saw me as just my looks. You never once doubted me during this recent scandal. Even when I doubted myself. You believed in me when no one else did. You... You don't know just how much you saved me." He smiled at you, and yet, it almost looked like he was about to tear up. He looked at you as if you were the most valuable thing in the entire universe at this moment. And the implications of that made your heart race even more than it already did, if that was even possible. Before you could reply in any way, though, he continued. "...I love your smile. I love how you always look straight at me and accept me as I am, even when I was at my weakest. I love you, Y/N. Because you saw me as who I am. I never knew someone could become so special to me in such a short amount of time, but... it's you, Y/N. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Zen..." Seeing all the emotion flowing through his eyes, and hearing him pour out his heart to you like this truly made you feel lightheaded. You were happy, but it wasn't due to his appearance. Oh, you were so unbelievably happy. And on the brink of crying, too. You were so relieved that he did not plan on sending you away, but you were even more relieved that...
The fact that you were also in love with Zen brought you relief. No other reason could be possible.
This conclusion was so natural, it was as simple as adding up 2 + 2. This was more than anything you've felt with him before. This was more than the ticklish sensations of surprise or embarrassment... You were just so incredibly happy. Giddy, even. The only thing that was left for you to do was to express it.
You accomplished it. Without even thinking, you reached for him and took hold of his sleeve, stopping him before he was about to go on with his words. In hindsight, this was a bit awkward, but you didn't care. Zen's eyes widened a little as he looked at you, awaiting your next move. "Y/N?"
But, unfortunately, you were at a loss for words. While Zen had too much to say, you couldn't form a single word, even as your chest was practically vibrating from all the feelings of affection and happiness stacked within it. You and Zen just stared at one another for a moment or two, nothing but the buzzing sound of his freezer breaking through the silence. Even though you knew you loved him back, you couldn't find the right words to tell him. Was there even any need for the right words? You didn't know. It was confusing. Confusing and so damn exciting at the same time.
You decided to go for it. Blurting out anything that would come to your frazzled mind. "Z-Zen, I- Me too! I mean- Love. I love you, too. That's what I mean."
That was not awkward at all. You couldn't suppress a stupid laugh as you realized just how embarrassingly high-pitched your voice sounded. God, you were such a mess. Regardless, you continued on. In some weird way, you messing up so terribly at first made it easier to just be honest from then on.
"Sounds like a dream come true, my prince/ss". He murmured in return. And, before you could even think about it, he gently cupped your cheek, making your breath hitch. "...Can I kiss you?"
"Wait, no. That didn't come out right. What I'm trying to say is... I am so, so happy to hear you say all of these things... And I don't care about the timing, or your career, or the scandal, or anything at all. I mean- No, I do care, just- Agh, you get what I mean!" This time, Zen chuckled along with you, making your stomach fill up with butterflies at the sweet sound of it. With a happy smile, he nodded along and looked at you expectedly. This made you forget all about your reservations or nerves at once. You felt comfortable, relaxed. "What I'm trying to say here is... I want to be by your side. Supporting you. Loving you. And... And being loved by you. Does that sound okay?"
How could you refuse that?
#mystic messenger#mysmes#mysme#mm#zen ryu#mystic messenger zen#zen x reader#clearing out my inbox little by little#we're getting there!#was this piece too sappy?#i don't know#but i'm a sucker for confession scenes in visual novels :)#best read with a romantic bgm!#also i love awkward readers as you can see lmao#maybe a bit oblivious too
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The dissapearence of Nelldae Knight
Chapter 2; The discussion
H-How!?
He pulled the front hair of his mullet back
The young knight had nothing but despair in his voice, his army was gone, wiped out, he lost the very battle he swore to win and destroy the life of the man who ruined his own,
Nightmare had defeated him and taken away lives of many others who didn't deserve it not just the people in young Meta's army
Relax young creature, The man beside him put his slim claws on the young heros shoulder
You are young, he is almost as old as time like me, you have been in existence for 17 years after all, it takes patience this battle will not be your last
Hopefully i will be there to help you fight through!
As long as they dont find me first, the man whispered under his breath
Well- How the hell do I know i can trust you! The young hero's spanish accent thickened, getting more upset by each passing moment
How old even are you?
I am around 31499999 years old i believe
The said his old age in an innocent tone, he looked like he was in his later twenties, The young meta had so many emotions running in his head right now, confusion was just thrown into the mix
And to answer your first question, just give me a test, a challenge to show you that I can be trusted by your standards of course! Anything you have in mind I could probably do to show that I can be trusted~
This man spoke like he ate a damn theasarus-
Take off the hood. The hero spoke in a very passive agressive voice, he was eager to see under the hood of the rando next to him
Wh-what?
The young hero hand spoken so soon, Meta ahook off the clawed fingers off his shoulder
Take the damn hood off old man! It wasnt like Meta to be like this, he never insulted people in such a way unless he was very pissed
He was getting very impatient that was for sure
B-but I-
Do it.
I am not going to wait until I'm as old as you for you to do it.
I thought something more-
Do you want my trust creep?
Take
Off
The
Hood
And tell me your name too while your at it
Meta wanted to know everything about this guy as he could
I-im oh-
The slim creature beside him was utteraly dissapointed, he hadnt even taken off the hood yet and there already seemed to be tears forming in his eyes
Meta had to refuse the urge to call him pathetic, He was 17 that thing beside him was 1499999 years old. Meta had cried over more important things than this
O- ok
Obidiently, He brang his hood down
to reveal a VERY hideous haircut
Tears formed in both pairs of his eyes, his hair was not only cut to an ugly short, it looks likes it had not been taken care off properly in more than half of the mans lifetime
One of his antennas was regrowing the lighted up bulb the other had, it looked like it was forcefully ripped off, yikes!
Meta felt sudden apreciation for his messy mullet wave over him
He may have successfully fought the urge to call him pathetic but he instantly called out:
Oh great mother of Nova!
He felt instant regret as the slim man put his hands over his face crying softly
As Meta tried to comfort the man he shooed him off of himself
Its okay i am completely aware of how awful i look at this very moment
He sniffed back his tears
But you know my hair was always like this it was nice and fluffy though it was just a bit longer than what I have right now I would react to the same way and scatter if I to saw someone with hair like mine.
What seemes like a soft smile was elegantly put on his face despite the tears
Meta regretted for acting like such a brat moments before
Im Meta, what is your name if I may ask? Meta tried being polite to him to make up for how incopetent he acted a few moments ago
Its okay! That was the second part of the deal I was supposed to fullfill!
My name is- he paused for a moment -I don't have a name... I'm nearly 100% sure that all I was called we're insults
Meta wanted to lighten up the mood, somehow
How about... uhm.. uhh-
NK!
goddamit! really? the first two letters that came to your mind as a name?
Oh how delighteful ^^~ Nk coed innocently he lightly clapped his hands together giving Meta an innocent smile. He had a name now that wasnt disrespectful and degrading! How wonderful
Oh ok then!
Here! Nk put his hands out to meta
I promise to be by your side from here now on and oath if you will~
I dont own you but we can be friends
Hurrah my first friend!
Meta put his hands in Nk's who softly caressed his with his thumbs
They were going to be okay!
@ilikesillythingswooo come get your sillies
#kirby#kirby oc#kirby fanart#kirby au#nelldae knight#tdonk#meta knight#meta knight kirby#nightmare kirby#<- mentioned#Hi yesss i finished chapter 2!!!!#Ugly ass haircut 💀#315
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(Image Source: https://x.com/Asaki_illust/status/1746331831774130671?s=20)
You've been going to this other coffee house ever since your usual spot got shut down.
There was a devil attack — Bat Devil, allegedly — that blew through the place, tearing massive holes in opposite walls, completely messing up the kitchen. It was shut down for repairs, and never went back in business.
Thing is: you knew the owner. And they were getting up-there in age, so more than likely they managed to swindle the insurance money and call it a career.
Not a bad ending for them, but you were forced to find a new spot. And this one just wasn't the same.
It wasn't just the pastries and drinks you missed. Weird as it sounds, you missed the waiting. In line. At the counter. With others.
The coffee house crowd.
It was the same people every day, getting their morning coffee and snack. Much like you, sure, but with their own lives. You never knew them, obviously — you all just talked about the weather, latest headlines, the seasonal flu, and other benign things.
The familiarity ran so deep, you knew several of their every-day orders by heart.
Not a single one of you ever exchanged names, business cards, or anything.
And at this new spot, you found yourself deeply regretting your time at the old spot. You vividly remember so many faces, and they may as well be dead now.
Well, lately, there's been a new lady at the new spot. She's got pasty skin, is dressed in a suit, and basically looks like everyone else. You just know her because you're so often beside her, for roughly seven minutes each day. You deduce your commutes are somehow in-sync, since you always wind up adjacent to one-another in line. Occasionally — occasionally — you wind up a person or two apart. Or one of you doesn't show.
Oh, there are a few things you noticed about her: her hair's usually in this braided ponytail kind of thing, she likes to wear bulky suit coats, she tends to miss a spot of dog hair on the back of those coats, and she never gets coffee, just tea. It's usually one of the shop's herbal blends.
Oh, and you couldn't help but notice her eyes. Bright, yellow, unusual. Hard to get a decent look — you don't want to get caught staring.
Again, you're standing beside one another. Walking together as the queue moves, but obviously separate. She senses you glancing at her, but doesn't look. You sense her side-eye, but pretend not to notice at all. You shuffle forward. Then again. Finally, you've had enough.
"What're you going to get?"
You see her flinch, as though you yelled in her ear. Frankly, you have no idea why you asked that anyway. You already know what she gets. Everyday. It's the same thing: tea and—
"Sorry, were you talking to me?"
"Yeah." It worked in your school days, at lunch. Why wouldn't it work today? "I said: what're you going to get?"
The lady blinks. "Me? What am I going to get?"
"Yeah." And after an odd pause: "I get a coffee, with espresso and lots of cream. And a bagel with jam."
You need the big caffeine hit, and the calories to offset the shakes you'd get.
"Oh," she says, "um, green tea and a raspberry scone?"
(Why'd she phrase it like a question?)
"Tea? No coffee for you?"
She shakes her head and offers a smile. "My stomach doesn't like it. Too much caffeine, maybe."
"Maybe."
You're not sure what to say next. And neither is she, but she really hopes you do. Her eyes are kinda freaky, looking at you with such attention. Like she's eagerly waiting for something. It's like — anticipation, but tired?
Damn, you're almost at the counter.
"I'm Jun." (You're not Jun.)
"And I am Izumi." (And she is not Izumi. You can tell because she had to think about it.)
"Izumi" takes her order. She gestures for you to come forward. But—
"Oh, no. You don't need to do that for me."
"Maybe," she offers, "you can get mine next time?"
That's fair. And it makes you smile. And she's smiling.
Now what?
"Have you been coming here long?"
Oh, she's taken the lead! You're not complaining.
"About a month, maybe two. I notice you've started becoming a regular here."
She nods, looking outside. "The place I always went to was destroyed." Back at you. "It was a devil attack. I think it was on the news."
From the counter, you both hear, "Izumi? Jun?"
You're both heading outside now. She's looking down at the sidewalk. You say, "that's a coincidence."
"What is?"
"The place I went to was also taken down by a devil."
She nearly sighs. "That's not a very big coincidence these days, though. Is it?"
You shrug and gloomily admit, "that's true. That's true."
It would be a bummer if your first conversation with "Izumi" ended on this note, so you quickly ask, "are the scones any good?"
"I like them, yes. Raspberry's my favorite."
She takes a bite of the fresh pastry, and takes a sip from her disposable cup. Lifting her finger off the cup sleeve, she points to your breakfast.
"You know, I don't think I have had any of their bagels yet."
"Really? They're alright."
The two of you look at one another, then at the other's food, then at your own food. You tear half your bagel off. She does the same to her scone. You take one another's offerings. And you both have a stupid smile on your faces.
"I'll let you know what I think, Jun," Izumi promises, turning to walk away. "I have to get going now."
"I'll see you tomorrow," you answer, "right, Izumi?"
For whatever reason, you don't look to see her nod. She's a fleeting thought, quickly replaced by matters of the day ahead. And you know that for her, you're no different.
The raspberry scone is alright. Not as filling as the bagel.
Yet you're aware that, later this evening, as you're readying yourself for bed, you'll feel that tempered eagerness about the following morning.
It might even keep you up, for just a bit.
Maybe — it'll keep her up, too?
#chainsaw man#fanfiction#fluff#drabble#self insert#makima#but no it's not it's totally just some salaryperson just like you#second person pov
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Jealousy
A/n: So sorry for those who have requested stories. I am getting to them. I'm getting married so I've been planning my own wedding as of late. I shall be getting back to writing more very soon. Still feel free to request. See you all very soon!
Warnings: fluff, Gabriel Reyes x fem!reader
Requested: No
Pairing: Gabriel Reyes x reader
Almost everyone in Overwatch knew Gabriel Reyes as a very sarcastic, dark humored, and seriously scary guy. He knew how to get under people's skin quite easily. He even pissed off Commander Morrison, which was never a good thing. The one thing Reyes never talked about was his home life and for good reasons too.
He was on his way to start the Blackwatch meeting when he enters their private meeting room. He hears the voices within the room quiet down and looks up. His eyes once serious widen as he sees (Y/n) standing with the Blackwatch agents he worked with: McCree, Moira and Genji. All of them seeming to be looking at him and the mysterious woman they knew nothing about. He felt his heart beating fast as he didn't expect such a sudden surprise visit. Was it getting hot in here?
"Reyes, mi amor." (Y/n) smirked with half-lidded eyes that just told him she was teasing him.
"I.. Mi amor?" Gabriel whispers as his posture- specifically his shoulders, loosened up. How can he be so stiff when she was around. The light of his life. "How are you.. all the way in here?" With that sudden question, he could already see how upset his soon to be was.
"Jack, let me in. I even got a special pass for the future." She wiggles the small card with a blue lanyard attached to it. "Of course with a small fee."
"I didn't realize our old Commander Reyes was dat'in a cute lady like yourself." McCree smiles as he approached the two. He regrets ever bonding with McCree. He taught him too many Spanish words.
"Oh, me and Reyes aren't dating." (Y/n) couldn't help but show off her left hand and reveal a golden ring on her finger. Reyes couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at how his soon to be wife showed off she was his. "I'm his fiancé." Something about it made him puff out his chest proudly.
"Oh well, congratulations!" The cowboy cheers.
--
Immediately, Jack could hear his office door being met with multiple bangings from what he assumed was a fist. He hurriedly munched down the churros as the door slides open revealing a pissed Gabriel with Ana running behind him before the doors closed behind them.
".. Yes?" Jack answered after swallowing the churros and wiping the crumbs off his lip.
"My wife made those churros, Jack." Gabriel glares sternly as Ana was breathing heavily from the sudden running she had to do.
"I can tell.." Jack slowly munched another churro before stopping as Reyes spoke.
"They were for me, Jack. You know damn well." He points at his superior who hasmd some crumbs on his lip and cheeks.
"But she offered me some?" Jack argued with a mouthful. His voice came out small before he swallow and continues. "Your being very unreasonable, Reyes."
"Stop taking MY food." Gabriel shakes his head with a sneer. "Get someone else to make you churros, Commander Jackass!" He grumbles as Ana watched Reyes stomp out the office before turning to speak to Jack.
"I'm sorry! I can't handle when something looks so good!" Jack argues as he pouts at his desk.
"I know Jack.." Ana sighs as she looks to Reyes who stomps over to the elevator. "You forget Gabe doesn't like being challenged."
"I wasn't trying to do that." He raised his brow.
"Well.. you certainly know how to pick your fights, Jack." Ana chuckles as Jack grumbles as he munches on the sweetly baked goods. He was sure to ask for the recipe. Maybe then Vincent wouldn't call him bad at baking.
#overwatch#fanfic#x reader#blizzard#oneshot#gabriel reyes#love story#genji shimada#cole cassidy#jesse mccree#moira o'deorain#jack morrison#ana amari
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