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#even the ones she didnt ink
inklingofadream · 9 months
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Just randomly remembered an incident in 5th grade where a sub mentioned she'd spent her summer in, like, the Caribbean. Somewhere that was extremely exotic to 10-year-olds. And I was like "oooh, jealous!" because... that's not the Best way to interact with a stranger but it one I'd seen modeled. Like that's a common response to someone talking about a cool vacation. Also, again, 10,
And she SNAPPED at me that no! she worked hard! to earn that vacation!!!11!!!
I would love to hear her side of that. Like... was there some serious personal life stuff that made her overreact? Did she really hate substitute teaching and was already in a bad mood? What was her logic behind yelling at ten-year-old me
Because I stand by my logic from then, once I'd calmed down enough to think about it- it doesn't matter if she worked hard for her vacation. I was ten. I could be the hardest-working ten-year-old on Earth, and it is still quite unlikely that a vacation would manifest itself. A vacation you bled to earn and a vacation handed to you on a silver platter are both equally unobtainable to a child who cannot buy plane tickets.
Like I get being annoyed if a peer said what I said, I acknowledge that that's a response you save for friends, not strangers... But I've done stuff teaching summer art classes for a few days, and while that's obviously a big leap from regular school subbing* not once was I tempted to raise my voice in anger. What is the end goal of yelling at a child, exactly? What was going on in her life that led her to that?
*(in some ways harder, since I was the one lesson planning and there were Many things that could go wrong and result in stains/injuries if my gang of 4-15 year old kids was supervised too lightly, but easier because literally every kid I've ever met would rather play with rhinestones than learn math and even the kids who were obnoxious I had to deal with for One week)
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octolings from a dream i had
#i guess ill try to explain the dream im bored#i was running down deepsea metro & neo octo was chasing me#also i had one of those pathetic foam water guns but ink#ok the last car of the metro led into a pinkish purpleish room#the color of like. the purple around the octarian (tentacle guys) eyes & mouth or whatever. id say their ink but thats not quite right#ummm also there were 2 towers in that room#also made of bounce pads#they were different heights and the tallest was in the far left (my left) corner and the second was middle far right wall#this isnt even important info sorryAnyways on top of tjose towers were pufferfish things#they were kindof like the balloon fish but. Pufferfish. also they were octarian colored#like purple spikes & beige belly & green eyes Yknow#they werent alive they were balloons like inflatable things. Giant floaties i guess.#they spit out balloons every few seconds & they Could be popped it was just super hard bc unlike hero mode balloons they#didnt really have helium but bounced around a ton when inked like annoying physics#OHYEAH also there was an exit door to the right of the entrance to the room from the metro. Does that make sense No Doesnt matter anyways#that door led into kind of an office observation area#with the windows and stuff ? yknow??#so i was chased into pufferfish room#unable to splat the neo octo .but she wasnt after me and she went into the office thing and there was a splat1 octoling there and they#hugged and held hands and looked so happy#Love wins#also the dream ended.Ok tags#splatoon#splatoon 2#octoling#splatoon oc#oc#my art
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gschellyart · 1 year
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The sads
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biillys · 2 years
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future modern au after they've moved back to california etc etc where max is a fucking incredible tattoo artist and billys that 'tattooing myself everyday for a year' guy from tiktok and the shittier the tattoo the more max loses her absolute shit at him
#billy starting that account cos he asked max for a free tattoo and max told him to get fucked#so billy was like. ill do it myself then fuck you#and max was like you cant draw for shit???? good luck lmao#anyway they came to a deal of if billy tattoos himself every single day for a year then max will do the damn sleeve he wants.#max genuinely hoping he wasn't dumb enough to give himself three hundred and sixty five pure shit tattoos in exchange for one decent one#and then the tattoo gun comes in the mail and billys like oh Fuck yeah! day one babey!#max; watching billy spill the ink fucking everywhere then give himself literally the WORST tattoo of the mcdonalds sign:#jesus christ what the Fuck is wrong with you#billy; genuinely pretty fucking pleased with how it turned out considering hes working upsidedown and he didnt bother with a trace:#check it the fuck out shitbird. fuckin rad#max; squinting at the tattoo after having to look away becos she physically Could Not watch:#u realise not even i could fix this right? like its Bad billy#anyway by day 20 max is out of fucks to give and by day 110 shes more stressed about the ink wastage and not billys Fucked Up legs#and by day 160 shes like. actively encouraging him.#and then at the end of the year when she does tattoo his arm like requested shes like#this is fucking shit billy. youre gonna have an entire professionally done sleeve and then the rest of ur body looks. like That.#anyway! would especially love billy to do the 'permannant' tattoo from that guys tiktok cos it made me lol#m#text
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silhouettecrow · 6 months
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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 277
Adjective: Dilapidated
Noun: Stone
Definitons for those who need/want them:
Dilapidated: (of a building or object) in a state of disrepair or ruin as a result of age or neglect
Stone: hard solid nonmetallic mineral matter of which rock is made, especially as a building material; used in similes and metaphors to refer to weight or lack of feeling, expression, or movement; a small piece of rock found on the ground; (astronomy) a meteorite made of rock, as opposed to metal; (medicine) a calculus, or a gallstone or kidney stone; a piece of stone shaped for a purpose, especially one of commemoration, ceremony, or demarcation; a gem or jewel; short for curling stone; a round piece or counter, originally made of stone, used in various board games such as backgammon; a large flat table or sheet, originally made of stone and later usually of metal, on which pages of type were made up; a hard seed in a cherry, plum, peach, and some other fruits; (British) a unit of weight equal to 14 pounds (6.35 kg); a natural shade of whitish-gray or brownish-gray
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andromarche · 3 months
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Hear me out, whenever one of the batlings does something good/bad, Bruce responds accordingly by changing his last will and testament. Most of them don’t even need or care about the money/company/manor, but they treat it in the same way young kids treat a sticker chart.
The batkids regularly break into Bruce’s lawyers office to check if they got any more stickers and forge the will so they get a bigger cut (more stickers). Bruce’s lawyer regularly returns to their office in the morning to papers and ink everywhere, and batarangs lodged in the side of the desk.
The lawyer thinks Bruce is just very fickle. Like this is BRUCIE WAYNE we’re talking about. He’s said on the record that he thinks the moon is made of cheese, he writes his signature with a cute little heart next to it. Very loveable. Not the brightest or most likely to think hard about the long term. They’re convinced the frequent and glaringly obvious Batman/Robin break ins is because Batman is one of Brucie Wayne’s kids and wants to keep checking he’s in the will.
•••
Tim: *mentions off-hand that he’s been awake for 48hours on 12 straight black coffees and sheer-will*
Bruce: *furiously calling his lawyer to cut Tim out of his will and leave the company to Jason*
•••
Lawyer: *holding the coffee pot to head back to their desk, to see Nightwing riffling through the drawers*
Lawyer:
Nightwing: *takes the entire coffee pot and pours it into his mouth, not breaking eye contact*
Lawyer: *sigh* Top drawer, right side. Had to move it because Robin spilled ink in the other drawer last night.
Nightwing: *devious grin, writing out “I leave my entire fortune, company and properties to Richard Grayson-Wayne. To my son, Damian Wayne, I leave one penny. To all of my other children, I leave a crisp $20 bill and this message ‘divide it amongst yourselves’.” And perfectly forging Brucie’s signature, complete with a heart next to the name.*
•••
Tim: B! B! What’s this I hear about you leaving us all a $20???
Steph: I DIDNT GET LEFT ANYTHING
Bruce, knows he explicitly mentioned Steph in his will: Oh well, since you didn’t want to be legally adopted-
Steph: IM EMOTIONALLY AND FINANCIALLY ADOPTED. I CLAIM SQUATTER’S RIGHTS.
Dick, knowing he changed it last night before Steph’s weekly snoop of the will: On… this family?
Steph: NO JUST THE WILL! ITS ABOUT THE PRINCIPLE.
•••
Lawyer, upon seeing Brucie Wayne for the third time this week to change his will: So, who did what this week? Was it Batman again?
Bruce: What?
Lawyer: Don’t worry, I’m not going to rat out that Batman is your kid.
Bruce: Right, thank you. I appreciate it.
Lawyer: *thinking more about Bruce’s high public profile and how judgemental Gotham’s high society can be than the vigilante stuff* I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to become a father so young. You must have still been in high school!
Bruce, confused and committed to the bit: Yeah, me and his mother still speak sometimes. He keeps getting annoyed by his brothers taking the car out for joyrides.
Lawyer: I hear ya, my eldest just started driving, she loves it though and keeps taking the car to Metropolis randomly.
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totalswag · 2 months
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can i request rafe x fwb reader where reader finds out hes dating sofia and she goes to confront him that he didnt even have the decency to let her know their arrangement was over and he says "who said it was over?''
stuck in the middle - RAFE CAMERON
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authors note as you guys may notice i'm finally publishing requests that you guys sent me. super sorry this was very late to publish. i hope you like what i wrote and it was what you hoped. so, thank you for sending this requests.
requests are still open so feel free to send them my way and i will get to them and put them into my docs :) if you click on the bold red ink it will take you to my ask box lovies!!!
summary you find out through people and social media sofia and rafe are together. you go to confront rafe about this since he never thought to tell you that your arrangement was over.
warnings friends with benefits, mentions of sex, cursing
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Lately, you've been having this weird gut feeling in your stomach. No idea what the meaning behind it means but you want to find out what it could be. You started feeling this way whenever you were with Rafe on a random Wednesday.
Rafe and you have been friends with benefits for about three months now. When you two came to this agreement, you agreed that it was solely for your sexual pleasures and not to establish feelings for each other, and that the most important thing was to let each other know if one of you became serious with someone else so that the bargain could be broken off.
You overheard a rumor at a party this past Friday about Rafe and Sofia being together for a month. You couldn't believe your ears and wanted to vomit. Sofia works at the island's country club, and Rafe visits it from time to time.
The next day, you decided to do some research to be sure this was accurate. Even as you looked at her Instagram, the emotion returned. You checked her story highlights and discovered what you were looking for. Your stomach sank.
She had a couple pictures on her highlights that you knew were of Rafe, including one with his right hand on her thigh in his car and another with his back to her as he looks out into the distance. Based on what you discovered, they appeared serious.
What made you upset was the fact Rafe and you have been seeing each other for three months which meant he'd been with Sofia for who knows how long before he asked her to be his girlfriend.
"Why didn't he tell me?" You asked yourself, setting down your phone and running your hands through your hair, upset that you found out at random person at a party.
There's a part of you that doesn't want Rafe to be with Sofia. There's a part of you that wants him all to yourself. Regardless, he should've told you the arrangement was over.
That was the deal.
After thinking about what you should do, you decide you are confronting Rafe about this, tonight. You are gonna make it seem like you want to hookup but really you are telling him what you found out.
you- are you busy tonight? i wanna see you
rafe- funny you say that because i wanna see you too
rafe- meet me at the spot at 9pm.
"I'll be back in an hour or so," you tell your mom as you go past the living room, holding your keys. "I'm going to hang out with Samantha."
"That's fine, sweetie; please stay safe tonight, I love you," your mother adds, smiling.
When you get to the spot you see Rafe sitting in his car on his phone. You parked your car next to him so he knows it's you- when he sees you get out, he unlocks the car.
You sigh casually as you sit in the passenger seat.
Rafe says smiling "Hey pretty girl" in a tone that makes you weak in the knees, leaning over the center console to kiss you but you pull back.
"We need to have a little chat, Rafe," maintaining eye contact.
His smile fades, and he looks at you, puzzled, "What do you mean?" His response indicated that he was nervous or knew what was going to happen.
"Why didn't you tell me you and Sofia were together, Rafe? You never once said to my face, "Y/N, we can no longer meet up like this anymore because I have a girlfriend now," mimicking Rafe's voice, "we've been hooking up this entire time while you've been in this relationship that I had no idea about until I heard someone talking about it," you explain frustratedly in your voice and expressions.
In the midst of your rant towards him, he places his hand over his lips, chuckles, shakes his head, and looks down at his lap.
"Why the fuck are you laughing?" You ask, folding your arms, leaning back against the passenger door, annoyed.
He glances up from his lap, licks his bottom lip, and smirks: "Who said it was over?"
Before you could respond his lips were already on yours.
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sockeye-station · 21 days
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Wait is your four the captain? How did that happen?
YES! YES!! I GOT SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT! I WIN!!!!
CLEARS THROAT. OKAY OKAY OKAY IVE HAD THIS ROTATING IN MY HEAD FOR A HOT FUCKN MINUTE AND ILL TRY MY BEST TO EXPLAIN IT IN A WAY THAT MAKES SENSE
OKAY. LETS REWIND ALL THE WAY BACK TO OCTO EXPANSION!!!
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so! octo expansion goes all normally, we have our agent 8 fighting through the entire structure to escape, agent 3 gets brainwashed, they have to fight, yadda yadda. you probably know how it goes by now. But here's the thing.
what if i went ahead and changed a tiny thing. just the teensiest detail.
what if instead of spamming splashdowns, tartar decides to use one big fuck off booyah bomb.
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"but, didn't booyah bomb come out after octo expansion?"
yes. yes it did. and that's why i chose booyah bomb specifically.
tartar whipped out the idea to use a booyah bomb from some prototypes it found out about after abducting god-knows-who, and used it despite its unstable build. No one, at that moment, knew whatever that was, what it did, how dangerous it was, or anything of the sort. This was some sort of last hurrah, as it knew that this was its last shot at stopping this failure from escaping the facility. And so it exerted Agent 3 into giving it everything he's got. Quite literally, even! It pushed him so hard, he too became unstable while trying to mantain and boost the energy ball.
The Booyah Bomb is thrown with as much power as Tartar could muster out of that creature, pretty much covering most of the arena. Once the ink settles, and Agent 8 gathers his senses, he looks around. Agent 3 is nowhere to be seen.
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at no point in canon is sanitized agent 3 properly splatted throughout the fight — you only break their shield, they superjump back to their platform, and you eventually knock them out. you never splat them. so who's to say that, just like agent 8 during the ascent, they don't have a respawn anchor?
That's what I decided to play with here. Agent 3 is splatted with no respawn anchor. Agent 3 is dead.
The rest of octo expansion plays as normal, only that there's no passed out Agent 3 waiting at the helicopter.
Starting from here, Agent 8 becomes affiliated with the NSS through Cuttlefish after breaking the news, feeling like he needs to make it up for the loss they suffered as he feels responsible for it. He grows closer with Agent 4, and eventually they become closer friends, even staying at her place after she invited him once their friendship was more developed. This paragraph is mostly to explain how they know each other and how their friendship started, also explaining why my Agent 8 gives OtH Agent 4's number instead of Cuttlefish.
Okay! Now, back to the point of this ask. I actually had a bit of this typed out in a server I'm in!
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[Agent 4] didn't really have a choice when it came to becoming Captain, being the fifth longest-standing member of the NSS after craig, the squisters and agent 3. craig was retiring, the squid sisters were still busy with their inkopolis celebrity scene, and [Agent 3] was dead. so she was the next best option.
she didnt really ask for this in the first place, and yet she accepted out of hopes of being acknowledged. When she was just an agent, the rest of the team didn't keep in touch with her much (except for Agent 8) after the events of OE, and at one point even stopped being called for whenever Callie got the shades on again. Whenever she patrolled, she did it without any previous call, and was rarely acknowledged by the others. She still kept visiting the canyon whenever she could after everyone else had moved on.
even after becoming the "captain", the others didnt usually reach out to her for assistance, and instead tended to act on their own. they never really took her as captain, rarely listening to her. so obviously this whole mess made her feel like absolute dogshit, questioning why she even decided to go through with this.
that title was meant for [Agent 3]. not for her. he was the one that came before her, and was better than her in so many ways. at least that's what the others kept repeating around her.
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as much of a punch in the gut being constantly compared to someone else was, she kept pushing to try and make herself known, separate from the other's achievements. which is why she ended up accepting marina's request.
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mayearies · 8 months
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✰ RECORD BOY
miles morales loves music but he loves you more. genre: fluff
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warnings: rio and me are married (correction: every person with the last name 'morales' is married to me) a/n: dont come at me yes i know his birthday was a week ago but i had this idea and i just 😭 i had to write it plus i didnt give him a proper happy birthday so 😢 pretend i posted this on his actual birthday ALSO RIO CONTENT YAYAAYAYAY
one of maye's personal favorites :D
e1610 miles had been your boyfriend for a while, and today was his special day. you contemplated for a while what your gift would be for him. he was the best you've ever had. of course he deserved the best gift ever. sooner or later, the answer was given to you.
—you politely knocked on the door of the morales household with a box wrapped in wrapping paper and tied with a bow. specifically black and red, cause y'know. rio opened the door and a smile lit up on her face. not like the sarcastic one she had when she first met you.
"hi, hun. you here for miles?"
as you stepped in, the room smelled of vanilla and ink? weird combo, yeah? "mhm, just wanted to swing by and say a quick 'happy birthday' to him."
"oh, that's sweet. he's in his room. ¿quieres un cupcake?" "oh! n-no, gracias."
considering how often you visited miles, you tended to pick up some spanish from his mom, which she gladly taught you. rio treated you like you were a close friend, which made miles happy to say the least. "i see your spanish has improved."
"yeah, thanks ms. morales." "of course! you're special person in my son's life, i owe it to you."
♡ well, you thought that was a little too high of a praise. it felt like the morales' were givers. like if someone were to do something for them which they said was small or no big deal, they would take it to an extent. it's something you would think about time to time. nonetheless, they were grateful of how trusting you were.
you pushed the cracked door of miles' room and found him where he always was—at his desk drawing in his sketchbook with his headphones on, humming along. you wonder how hard you fell for him when you first met.
you tapped his shoulder lightly, disturbing his quote on quote singing, he smiled brightly when he saw you. "hey, love."
he engulfed you into a big hug. his shirt was cozy and he smelled sweet. "baby! you came!"
"of course i did! how could i miss your birthday?" "you missed valentines day-" "hush."
miles clearly eyed the box as you asked him how he was doing. he gave short answers and sometimes ask you to repeat what you said. you sighed with a playful smile, "you wanna know what's in the present, don't you?"
"yes pleaseee."
you two sat on his bed and miles gently untied the bow and ripped the wrapping paper. the look on his face once he saw what was inside was nothing short of surprise. you smiled as he looked over to you with a shocked face. "you're serious?"
"uh huh. happy birthday, spidey."
♡ you went down to the record store and bought roughly around half a hundred worth of albums. of course knowing miles loves music basically to death, you knew all of his favorite artists. tyler the creator, brent faiyaz, pinkpantheress, bryson tiller, sza, to name a few. you had to get him albums for his record player.
miles sighed and changed his tone into somewhat more whiney as he put his head on you lap. "noo, don't do this to me, amor. i can't accept these."
"too bad, accept them." "but i don't even use my record player anymore! i know you are not out here buying me $20 albums on vinyl, ma." "it's fine, i'll make back the money. and let's put that record player to good use, yeah?" "... god, i love you and your persistence. makes you hotter in my opinion." "that's cause i know what you like."
♡ you took him to the rooftop and danced with him until sunset where you just sang songs together. it was the best birthday miles had so far, spending it with his favorite person. that person used to be a stranger.
"happy birthday, my record boy♡"
© mayeluvsu
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chiiyuuvv · 5 months
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Hiya, can I request Riize and how they act when they like y/n? Ty 🩶
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• PAIRING — student!riize x gn reader
• GENRE — crushes, shyness, fluff, and more fluff ♡
• WORD COUNT — 634
• AUTHOR'S NOTE — the way i giggled when i read this. I was already planning a sohee and anton fic where they like the reader (anton inspired by my hc i wrote for xikers, hunters part (when xikers like you)) but after writing this hc, i could literally write any one of the members.. so please request if you want to see a fic based off of this!!
• TAGLIST — @moonlightdarlings
MASTERLIST! – JOIN THE TAGLIST!
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SHOTARO ☆
If shotaro wasnt smiley then, he sure is now
Love at first sight, his heart beating a million beats per hour, this stupid grin on his face
And since hes extroverted, his is sure to let you know that hes here, wanting to gain your attention
Secretly loves it when someone mistakes you two as a couple because how flirty and touchy he is, but denies it in case it makes you uncomfortable
Hes just so smiley and giggly at whatever you say or do, he tried to hide it at first but theres really no use; hes sure that his like for you is obvious ♡
EUNSEOK ☆
Hes so gentlemen
Opening doors for you, giving you a new pen when you run out of ink, helping you with your homework
And has this cheeky smile whenever you thank or compliment him
Would shoo away the members when hes around you, because he knows they will start teasing him
Tucks some hair behind your ear subconsciously, his breath hitching when he realizes how close you are to him, his eyes going down to your lips ♡
SUNGCHAN ☆
Honestly think hes into the quiet type. Reserved and out of the way, he would find it so intriguing and cute
Wants to get your attention so back, literally changing himself so he could match your interest
And just feels so insecure because what if you think hes doing too much? What if hes too loud?
But all of his thoughts were shut down when he catches you stare at him
"Meet me at the rooftop." You would place the note on his desk as you walk by, your ears red ♡
WONBIN ☆
Despite his cool and handsome persona, he is such a scaredy cat
Has the hugest crush on you but hes too scared to say anything so his members had to push him to you
"G-go get icecream with m-me?" "GREAT, BYE!!" he didnt even give you the chance to speak as he runs away, his members having to fill in for him. Giving you the time, place.. etc.
Arrives 30 minutes early because hes so nervous and fidgety so he tries to calm himself down and practices what he would say to you
But the preparation were pointless when you walk in the little shop, his face getting so red as he thinks you look so pretty. Even if what you're wearing isnt much ♡
SEUNGHAN ☆
Feel like hes not one to hide his feelings
Just "oh, shes pretty cute. I'll ask her on a date."
And he does that with so much confidence, not an ounce of fear in any of his words
And everything was going to according to plan, he'd arrive a few minutes early to make sure everythings okay
But as soon as you sit down, hes a blushing, stuttering mess. His face completely red as he avoids your eye contact. Damn it. - seunghan ♡
SOHEE ☆
The type to daydream about your future together with this goofy smile on his face
Purposely sitting a seat or two behind you, just so he could stare at you
But quickly bats an eye when you make eye contact with him, as hes suddenly invested in his work (he hasnt even written his name yet)
Always holds his breath whenever your near, his palm sweaty
And stutters like crazy when your assigned to work on a project together ♡
ANTON ☆
Shy, shy, shy, shy, shy
Barely says a word whenever your near, also the type to stare at you during class and daydream about each others future
You were a friend of one of his friends, so he was kinda forced to talk to you
And cringes at himself when he says something stupid, but you always find it so cute
Randomly blurts out how pretty you are ♡
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rillils · 2 months
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i hate my angst loving self so much sometimes
think about a confused and not-entirely-there bucky screaming at steve, asking him why he left him there on the snow, asking why he didnt come back for him, telling him how long he waited for him to come and save him
FINE HONEY, YOU WANTED ANGST, I'LL GIVE YOU ANGST. AND I'LL CRY ABOUT IT 😭
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, tw: suicidal thoughts, very mild gore, nightmares, post-catws, angst is definitely not my thing what am i even doing here asjdhsjdh wordcount: 3815 a side note: while the language here is used in accordance with steve's profound sense of guilt, it doesn't reflect the author's personal beliefs on the matter - aka IT'S NOT HIS FAULT SKDLKS MY POOR BABY 😭😭
It always starts off quiet, like the darkened hall of a theater in the split second between the curtain opening over the stage and the actor’s first line. Silence, please. The show is about to begin.
The scenery changes sometimes, but it’s the mountains Steve sees most often in his dreams: the soulless gray of stone, and the blinding white of snow coating everything, from the peaks, to the valley, to the copse of fir trees, huddled together like children in the cold. Just like he remembers from that day in the Alps. No one knows how to torture him better than his own mind.
The wind rises sharp and icy, lifting sleets of frost with it, and a chill rolls down Steve’s spine. It’s not the cold, though.
It’s fear, congealing like a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. The show is about to begin. And he’s watched it all to the end countless times before.
“Steve?”
His head whips around, and Bucky’s right there, like he always is. A fixed point, unchanged, unmovable, his boots sinking soundlessly in the thick layer of snow beneath them.
He looks so beautiful, so oddly alive against the backdrop of his desolate place; a man at the peak of his youth, the pink of his cheeks nearly glowing next to the deep blue of his uniform, his hair combed to a movie-star shine, parted neatly to the side. It’s cruel, how perfect he is. Preserved like a cherished heirloom in Steve’s mind, never fading, never aging; a living picture, soft and rosy-cheeked. He belongs in a dance hall, in a crowded street, in the cheerful chaos of the fourth of July, in the color and noise of fireworks, in the tangle of ooh’s and aah’s under the firelit sky. He doesn’t belong here. But he’ll never leave this place.
“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s head tilts to the side, confused. “You left a long time ago.”
“Bucky,” Steve tries to say, but the name dies on his lips.
The light in Bucky’s eyes dulls to a flicker, carrying a heavy gloom over his features. He looks so sad, all of a sudden. He never looked sad when Steve was around, Steve remembers that – and Steve never learned how to make it better.
He can never make this better.
“Steve.” All the color’s draining from his cheeks, quickly, leaving only the paleness of death behind. His eyes – they pierce right through Steve, empty and cold, so cold, and Steve shudders from head to toe.
“I waited for you for so long,” Bucky’s blue lips say, with a mournful lilt Steve used to hear in his mother’s voice when she would sing to him, all those heart-twisting songs about a home she’d never see again. “Where were you?”
Something dark spreads from within across the pristine blue of Bucky’s coat, dripping slowly from his shoulder, black like ink–
blood
– smothering the rich color underneath, reaching down, down–
he fell
– down along Bucky’s arm, until it’s streaking the back of his hand–
blood, it’s blood, he fell, he’s going to fall
– pooling ruby-dark at Bucky’s fingertips.
Soon the drops will spill all over the fresh snow, staining it red, too.
“You left me here.”
Steve can’t breathe.
“Why did you leave me here, Steve?”
Steve can’t breathe.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, and the next breath stings in his lungs, ice-cold and merciless, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, so sorry. It’s all my fault, all my fault,” he chants, hands clawing at his own chest. But what will it help? He can’t undo this. He can never undo this. “I should have held onto you,” he sobs brokenly, and it’s strange, how he can never tell when he starts crying in his dreams, but he always feels the tears streaming down his face, real as his grief is real, clogging up his throat. “I never should have let you fall.”
Bucky steps forward, dark blood trailing behind him on the ground. Steve’s heart jolts like a spooked horse, pounding loud and fast with adrenaline.
“Why didn’t you look for me?”
He sounds so gentle. So devastatingly sad.
“Did I mean so little to you?”
Steve shakes his head, No, no, no, everything, you meant everything, always, I swear, tears flicking off the edge of his jaw to be lost in the snow-packed wind. “I t-thought you were dead,” he sobs, like he’s still curled up into the blown-up flank of that train, like he’s still got his face pressed to the ice-burn of its metal and praying for everything to end, now, before reality can reshape itself around him and tell him that Bucky is gone forever.
Something mean slithers behind Bucky’s eyes. “And you would have left my body to the wolves?” he says, his voice dangerously sharp over the moaning wind. “You didn’t think I deserved a proper burial?”
It’s snowing on the outside, but it’s inside that Steve feels ice gripping at his guts.
“You could have sent me home to my folks.”
It burns.
“To my sisters.”
It burns so bad, the shame crackling under his skin.
“At least then my family would have had a body to cry over. But it never even occurred to you, did it.”
Steve’s tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he pushes out uselessly, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve–”
“Or did you think that I was like you?” Bucky presses on, a cruel sneer forming on his white face. “Is that it? You fooled yourself so nice, you really thought I was like you? Like poor little Stevie? With no one left in the world who would miss me? No one who would even care if I was dead or alive?” He pauses, lips curling as though a new and amusing thought only just occurred to him. “Oh. Stevie, no. Did you think you were my whole world? Are you really that pathetic?”
“No,” Steve rasps, swallowing back tears and still drowning, drowning in them, “I never thought, I never– Please, Buck, I’m so sorry–”
Bucky’s silhouette blinks in and out of sight, and when he comes back, one moment later, he’s standing right before Steve, so close he need only reach out to touch him. His sneer is gone, but the depth of hurt in his eyes slices at Steve’s heart just as sharply.
“They took me, Stevie. You left me behind and they took me. Look,” he says, showing Steve the torn flesh where his left arm used to be – it was here just a moment ago, it was, Steve could swear it, it was right here – the bloody pulp of it, a frayed shard of white bone jutting out through the ripped muscle, sickening. His mouth, when Steve can finally look back, is curled back to show his teeth, the smile almost kind if it didn’t feel like a knife tearing at Steve’s own flesh. “This is all your doing. Isn’t it pretty?” Bucky tells him sweetly. “Tell me it’s pretty, Steve. Tell me it’s pretty.”
Without warning, Bucky’s hand darts up to clamp around Steve’s chin, gripping his face viciously. His touch is like ice, searing painfully into Steve’s skin, and Steve staggers in place, helpless but to look right into Bucky’s wide, desperate eyes.
“I was so scared,” Bucky whispers, hot tears spilling over his deathly pale cheeks. “I was locked in that place for so long, I couldn’t tell day from night anymore. It was so cold, and I was so alone, so alone without you, Stevie.”
His fingernails claw into Steve’s skin until they’re drawing blood, and Steve can only sob, can only take it, can only hope this will sate the hollowness he sees in Bucky’s eyes, if only for an instant. But it won’t, he knows it won’t. It never does.
If he could kneel at Bucky’s feet and beg for his forgiveness, keep him warm with the heat of his own tears, wash the blood away–
“I thought I was going to die. Every time they dragged me back to that table, I would tell myself, this is it. This is how it’s going to end,” Bucky tells him gently, nodding his head. “Sometimes, I even thought I should end it myself, before they could. But do you know what the worst part was? I didn’t die. No matter how bad I wanted it, none of the stuff they put me through ever did it. Hope kept me alive,” he snarls, soft through his bloodied smile. “That was my curse. I believed in you. I thought you would find me, save me. I told them you would come for me, and they laughed in my face, Stevie! They knew better.”
The sound that spills from Bucky’s mouth is the twisted, poisoned imitation of a laugh, emptied of all feeling, sharp like fingernails scraped across a blackboard.
“Don’t say that,” Steve whimpers, shaking his head, “please, don’t say that, no.” And he’d cover his ears if he could, lock that ugly truth out of his mind forever, but no muscle in his body will move until Bucky’s done with him.
“Do you know what happened then, Steve? You do know, don’t you?” Bucky asks, thrusting his face into Steve’s until only mere inches separate the tips of their noses – his eyes staring into Steve’s, a creeping echo of insanity gleaming from their depths. “They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.”
Hell. This is Hell.
“Because of you.”
This is what true torment looks like. No fire and brimstone, no howling souls of the damned, no blazing hail raining down upon him.
“It was always because of you.”
Just him and Bucky’s ghost, and a winter that never thaws.
“Bucky...”
The snowstorm rises against him with violence, angry, roaring in Steve’s ears, spreading frost over his chest, his arms, his bare face, freezing the tears caught in his eyelashes. Quiet, it demands. Don’t you speak to me. You have no right to speak to me.
But the yawning hole in Steve’s chest won’t stop screaming at him, starved for forgiveness, for a respite, for a mercy he never earned.
“Please, Buck... please...”
Bucky’s hand guides him down, pushing him to his knees. He crouches over Steve, gaze locked with his, heedless of the blood dripping dark and thick between his fingers; leaning in like he’s about to share a secret.
“I held out until I just couldn’t anymore. I tried to be strong, for you,” Bucky says in a harsh whisper. “But you never came.” His face, twisted by grief, wet with new tears. Steve cups it in his palms, but it’s no use: he can’t soothe this hurt. It’s too late now.
“Bucky, Bucky, sweetheart, forgive me– please, forgive me...”
Bucky’s grip on him relents; his fingers smear red over Steve’s cheek, four bloody streaks, and he strokes his knuckles over them, unbearably gentle.
“I waited for you for so long,” he says, mournful. His face is as cold as ice between Steve’s hands, stinging, burning. “Why didn’t you look for me?”
It hurts, it hurts so bad, so deep inside Steve’s heart.
“Why didn’t you look for me?”
The wind surges up around them, rattling Steve’s bones from within. The snow’s soaking into his pants, swallowing up his knees, colder, colder, the blizzard’s smothering him, blinding him, only Bucky’s eyes bright in his vision, crying, accusing, screaming, screaming, screaming–
“WHY DIDN’T YOU LOOK FOR ME?”
-
Steve jerked awake in the darkness, gasping for breath, a handful of sheets clutched dangerously tight in his fist. He barely even registered the soft, alarmed noise coming from the other side of the bed.
“Steve? It’s all right, you’re safe now.”
His eyes scoured the dark bedroom frantically, fighting through the chilling veil of ice still creeping at the edge of his vision. His heart hammered loud like thunder in his ears, pulsing so wildly in his throat, he thought for a moment that it would burst out of his body.
“Steve.”
Where was he?
The mountains–
“It was just a dream. You’re safe now, I promise. You’re home.”
His gaze focused on the only source of light: the faint glow filtering in through the blinds, the familiar orange hue of the street lights in their neighborhood, casting a striped pattern on the floor. A rug, there was a rug there – and a pair of slippers flicked just a bit too far from the bed.
“Come back to me, baby.”
The crumpled lumps of two discarded socks, that never made it to the hamper – oh, Bucky hated it when he did that.
“Sweetheart, can you look at me?”
A flicker of white–
– snow–
– Alpine, uncurling from her favorite spot and slipping soundlessly out of the room.
“Can you look at me? Steve.”
He turned his head towards the sound, staring wide-eyed into the shadows until finally, the outline of Bucky’s body emerged, sitting only an arm’s length away from him.
“That’s it, that’s good, Stevie.”
There was kindness in his voice, but his brow was creased with worry. His torso was half-twisted towards Steve, his body poised as though ready to reach out for him, but Bucky hadn’t touched him yet. Good, that was good. No. It hurt. That hurt.
Steve swallowed.
“Breathe with me, sweetheart. Can you do that? For me? Slow and easy, c’mon, with me.”
It was only then that Steve became aware of his own heavy breaths, the harsh sound of which filled up the room, gasp after gasp. He let go of the sheets and lay his hand on his own chest, where he could feel his pounding heartbeat, and tried to match Bucky’s calm, measured breathing as best as he could. He thought he was going to throw up.
“That’s it, just like that,” Bucky encouraged him.
Bucky–
Something flashed before Steve’s eyes; a fragment of a pale white face, with sneering lips and blood-stained teeth, taunting him with its cruel laughter.
You left me behind and they took me.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It was just a dream, it wasn’t real.”
Bucky shifted minutely on the bed, and a fleck of light caught the metal plates of his arm, a silver gleam darting quickly in the night.
Steve’s chin trembled. His throat closed up.
They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.
The tears came back before he could stop them, gathering hotly behind his eyes, pressing urgently to spill over.
“Bucky,” he choked out, and in the next moment he was crawling into Bucky’s open arms, curling his shaking body into Bucky’s sturdy frame. Bucky cradled him close, rubbing a soothing hand between Steve’s shoulder blades as Steve sobbed freely, pouring all of his anguish in the crook of Bucky’s neck.
“W-when you fell,” Steve stammered pitifully, clutching at the back of Bucky’s t-shirt with the desperation of a drowning man, “I should have come looking for you, I should’ve been there, should’ve– should’ve brought you back, I–”
“No, no, Steve,” Bucky rumbled, rocking him gently in his arms, “don’t do this to yourself. Please, baby, I’m begging you.”
Steve shook his head no, hiding himself deeper into the nook offered by Bucky’s neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw. His chest felt too tight, too full – like a balloon filled with water and straining to contain it, the paper-thin skin tense to the point of bursting.
“I should have come for you, they – they never would have taken you, I wouldn’t have let them,” he stumbled on helplessly, “I would have died first! God, I would’ve... I would have died first, I swear, Buck, I swear...”
Bucky stroked his hand over Steve’s hair, kissing the spot above the shell of his ear, dark with cold sweat. Steve felt the dampness of it across his whole body, under the clinging cotton of his pyjamas, the unpleasant moisture cooling on his skin and leaving him to shudder in Bucky’s embrace.
“Look at me,” Bucky called softly. It was a simple request, laced with just the same gentleness Bucky would use sometimes to coax Alpine into his arms, but still Steve felt panic pool in his stomach.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to look Bucky in the eye, not like this. Not when the truth – Because of you. It was always because of you. – was out at last.
What a scam he was. A whole lifetime spent preaching bravery, and the one time it truly mattered, he couldn’t even be brave enough to face the consequences of his own mistakes.
Please, don’t hate me, he sobbed silently against Bucky’s neck. You should. You have every right to. But please... please...
“Sweetheart, please, look at me.”
It took more strength than Steve had ever even known he possessed, but slowly, hesitantly, he let himself be pulled out of his hiding spot, and lifted his gaze to meet Bucky’s, if only for a fleeting moment.
Bucky’s flesh hand reached up to cup his jaw, working his thumb tenderly over Steve’s skin to wipe his tears away – a sweet, but fruitless endeavor, as more salty tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks, relentless.
“The truth is, neither of us could have known I would survive that fall,” Bucky said.
Steve shook his head, his eyes screwed shut against the flood of fresh tears. “I should’ve tried anyway, I should have come to you. I should have been there with you.”
Bucky grasped him by the arms, barely squeezing at all. The force wasn’t in his touch; it was in his voice, quiet to match the nighttime gloom, but firm nonetheless.
“What if they had taken you, too? What if they’d made you like me, what then?” he said, an edge of desperation coloring his voice, as if he couldn’t bear the very thought. “Do you think you could have lived with yourself, if you’d woken up one day to find that you had the blood of innocents on your hands?”
Steve’s head snapped up then, heat flashing fiercely in his chest. “What would I have cared, when you were there with me!” he cried out, panting heavily in the wake of that outburst.
Perhaps he couldn’t call this bravery; but when Steve could breathe again, their eyes finally met again.
If he’d feared he would see hate, or disdain, or resentment looking back at him, he didn’t find any of those. What he did find instead, staring at him from Bucky’s ever-familiar face, was the stubborn mark of love, shimmering brightly in Bucky’s eyes.
“Of course you would have cared,” Bucky whispered fiercely, cradling Steve’s face in both of his hands. “It would have killed you, and it would have killed me too. I could have never, ever forgiven myself, if they’d gotten their filthy hands on you because of me.”
His voice wavered, heavy with the weight of unshed tears. Steve could see the glossy sheen of them, threatening to spill over Bucky’s cheeks any second now, and felt his own heart split in two at the sight.
“Bucky,” he rasped, wetly, clasping Bucky’s wrists with his own hands to hold onto them, turning his face into those beloved palms to kiss them helplessly, one and then the other. Bucky never stopped holding him.
“Listen to me,” he said urgently, “listen to me now. We can’t change the past. We can’t, Steve.” A new sob ripped itself painfully from Steve’s throat, one he couldn’t have helped if he wanted to. “We can’t. It’s done, it’s there, we can’t take it back. And God, do I wish we could, believe me. But I want you to hear me when I say this: I am so grateful for what we have now. In the present. Our present.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath that rippled through his whole frame, as he openly struggled to keep his words clear and his voice steady. He was always the braver one, Steve thought, thrusting one of his hands out to grab a fistful of Bucky’s t-shirt, right over his breastbone.
“Steve. God, could you have ever dreamed that we could have this? I never even dared to hope for something like it, not even on my best days.”
He paused. Steve clung to him, his chest tight with emotion.
“The way we got here... Would I have chosen that? If I’d been given a choice, would I have wanted it to happen like that? No, of course not,” Bucky continued. “But if you asked me now, would I do it all over again, just for a chance to be here with you? I would say yes.” Steve whimpered, shaking his head, tears rolling down his face; but Bucky held him firmly, looking him right in the eye and nodding just as stubbornly, a watery smile on his lips. “Yes, Steve. Yes. A million times yes.”
He broke at last, and Steve lost what little control he had of himself. He tugged Bucky forward by his shirt and threw his arms around him, crushing their bodies together as if his life depended on it. Bucky returned the embrace with that same urgency, holding him tight as Steve muffled his sobs against Bucky’s shoulder, and buried his face in Steve’s hair in return.
The pinprick-like sensation of Bucky’s tears wetting his skin, as Bucky trembled quietly against him, felt like a bruise to Steve’s naked heart.
“Forgive me,” he begged, and he couldn’t have said what it was that he was seeking forgiveness for: if the pain he had caused Bucky now, or the one he couldn’t prevent so long ago.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Bucky murmured in his ear, his voice thick. “But I’ll say it, if you need to hear it.”
“Please,” Steve whimpered.
Bucky hugged him impossibly closer. “I forgive you. Always, sweetheart.”
The tightness within Steve’s chest unraveled, and in that moment, he breathed anew. Relief washed over him – and he cried, and cried, like a person cries when they’re gifted with kindness for the first time in a very, very long time, he cried until he thought he’d exhausted all his tears.
Bucky laid them both back against his pillow, chest to chest, shushing Steve’s hiccupping breaths with whispers of sweet nothings, never once letting him go.
“All that’s left to do now,” he said softly then, pressing a kiss to Steve’s brow, “is for you to forgive yourself.”
Steve burrowed deeper into his warmth, spent.
It would take a long time for that, and a tough, strenuous walk on the tortuous path towards that healing place. In the meantime, though, he could wrap himself into the safety of Bucky’s arms, and slip into a dreamless sleep for once.
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quaritchsbunny · 10 months
Text
Z-Dog/Zdinarsk as a Yandere (hc styled fic)
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Wc: 4.9k (watch this flop because it’s so obnoxiously long idk why it just grew itself into a full blown pic)
Warning/Tags: yandere behavior, slightly toxic behavior, obsessive behavior, f!reader x zdog, medic! Reader, recom!reader, mature language, a bit graphic description of an injury including blood and flesh degredation, a bit of forced touch, i have no idea how actual injuries work please just go along for the purpose of fiction, zdog kinda being an asshole but she’s just been through it, unhealthy obsession, zdog is just in denial for half the fic, biting, enemies (kinda) to lovers?
A/N: My second fic ever and first time writing for a female character ahhh! I really don’t like the way I wrote this one but what can I say I really tried my best, I hope this is to your liking anon! Welcome to any comments and requests!
Extremity Scale : 3.5/5
Type of Yandere:  Obsessive, Worshipping (unknowingly), manipulative, slightly sadistic
- Zdinarsk is what others would call a heartless beauty
- Although masculine with her striking mohawk and exhibits of tattoos that spread like blooms throughout her newly blue body, the soldier had been endlessly pursued by RDA officials, scientists, comrades, male and female alike despite her cold attitude
- And one by one without a clench of her jaw on the monotonously sweet bubblegum she always seemed to be chewing, she had laughed callously before turning them away, mind focused solely on her occupation as a recom soldier
- On the battlefield, she was ruthless.
- Shots were fired without a second thought once she held her aim, and whether it was a gun, arrow, knife, or chain in her hands, her cold amber eyes didnt allow for a second of compassion before she made her kill.
- Zdog wasn’t afraid of pain, her many colored bold tattoos on various parts of her body displayed hours of needles that had penetrated her with ink, yet she adorned them like it was a part of her.
- It was all these qualities that made her a worthy comrade to officials and authorities like Quaritch and her trust recom team, valuing her professionalism, tolerance and bravery.
- Her cool exterior seemed to be impossible to break, it seemed to be part of her personality, even her closest comrades in the squad never saw her portray any emotion other than callous joy at the aspect of conquest or the neutrality she seemed to carry with her everywhere.
- Because she never saw a need to feel anything other than that, what was the point? Any other emotion wasn’t going to pay her, being soft or sympathetic like the RDA did for her cruelty when it was directed towards the natives. And damn a soul who bothered to try to entertain her romantically, that shit didn’t touch her heart or her body in the slightest, she stowed away the young part of herself that dreamed of connection with a person that can understand her and instead suited herself to a form in which she didn’t care for the affection of others.
- It was nothing more than a waste of time to her, Zdog had considered emotions to be consuming and useless, and when she wasnt out scouting with the recoms in the thickets of pandora, her little free time was easily passed in the thick leather sketchbook, her fingers thoughtlessly skimming over the thick sheets, nails digging in the cursed piece of charcoal (it was the closest thing to a pencil, the sick RDA officials only had office pens as an alternative) as thick lines formed into her next tattoo design
- As such, the only emotion Zdog really felt except for callousness and the joy of victory was minor annoyance.
- Annoyance towards anything that wasn’t needed, such as the resourceless parts of pandora, the tears of mourning that came with death, the lack of efficiency from any comrade, such things only wasted time and got in the way of the ultimate goal
- Which was why she particularly despised you.
- You were a recom too, but not a soldier
- You were a healer, just as you had been as a human, you had died healing the RDA soldiers that were wounded in the war between the navi and RDA
- And for whatever reason, the RDA had insisted on adding you onto the short list of people to recombinant for a new blue team on their return to Pandora, arguing that your healing skills were essential to survival
- Why did the scientists waste their time and resources putting you into a recombinant body, and then waste the fuel putting you in a cyro and shipping you all the way to pandora?
- Why were healers a thing anyways? Zdog’s scars always healed on their own, fuck the bandage or the cream. The only way to truly heal, as learned from multiple experiences Z-dog had, was to expose the damn bleeding scar to the air and let it bleed until it learned to close its own weeping mouth. The body has to heal eventually, it's why so many organs exist just to keep bood pumping.
- So the first time Zdog had unfortunately stumbled across a carnivorous plants in the thickets of the annoyingly damp forests of pandora, skillfully targeting her right bicep as it sank its teeth into the beloved inked arm of the unsuspecting soldier that was leaning across a tree, it was to both her and your misfortune that the colonel had sent her straight to you with commands of healing and treatment.
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It was the first time you have received a patient since your arrival to the new RDA base, and your eyes widened when the outraged female was thrown into the ward, her upper right arm’s flesh seemingly curving inwards like the chunk of flesh was deflated from the bite.
“Colonel, I’m fine, a couple painkillers and it’ll be good as new” she barked, fangs bared as she tried to keep in her tears of both anger and physical pain, tearing through her like wildfire.
Colonel Quaritch only threw you a look of firm command as he commanded “do whatever you gotta do to get her arm good, and take your time, she’s not coming to missions for two weeks”, the colonel turned on his combat boots, leaving you alone with the hysterical soldier
Zdog whirled angrily, shocked and disoriented as she had never been off duty for that long. Reaching for the Colonel to come back before her head reeled from the fresh shots of pain up her raised arm, her blood dripping onto the bare silver floors of the ward.
You acted on instinct upon seeing the spurts of blood, rapidly bunching up gauze as you pressed into the wound, sitting her down on the bed.
Zdog hissed angrily, her body thrashing as her arm shook due to the huge amounts of loss of blood as she cussed incoherently, channeling her anger in attempt to stop you from wasting her time
“It’s people like you that make injuries worse, you don’t need to interfere, the body heals naturally, that’s the whole purpose for recombination, not that you would know, fucker who took on blue to do absolutely nothing”
“You’re right” you say calmly “the body heals naturally, just like how it was also that carnivorous plants nature to sink its teeth into your bare arm”
The glowering female soldier says nothing as she glares back, watching you as you unwrap the towers of gauze upon her wound.
You ignore her profanity and swiftly inspect the wound after pressurizing the opening to avoid amputation, the ink from her spilling out and blending with the dark blood as it swirled on her indigo skin.
Zdog cursed her heart as it beat rapidly, trying to look anywhere other than your knowing eyes that meticulously scanned her marks of injury, reassuring that her sweat and rapid shaking was from the physical shock and not the way your lips pursed together in expertise as you reached to grab disinfectant
Without warning, you poured the disinfectant on her wound after retracting as much blood as possible, the burn of the alcohol hurting almost more than the damn plant’s bite as it spilled into the marks, cleansing the indents from the vicious carnivorous plant
However the sear the disinfectant brought was a tickle compared to the rapid fire spreading amongst her heart, pumping blood rapidly at your firm touch on her arm and the whiff of sweet cherry she caught as your head whipped to place the disinfectant back on it’s shelf and disappeared behind a cabinet, digging through creams and bandages
Zdog had told herself it was only a natural reflex, her body trying to react to to pain as it sped it’s organs up, swallowing thickly as the your sweet scent left her surrounding, leaning forward from her resting position on the bed to catch it again
“What a medic, abandoning your patient like that”  Zdog scuffs, the popping of her bubblegum breaking the silence in the room
“Please lay back Miss Zdinarsk, rapid movement will cause more blood loss” you reply as you approach her again, her eyes immediately mellowing when your sweet scent invades her again
“No one calls me that anymore” she breathes out, biting back her huffs of pain as you press the q-tip of healing cream into the cleaned wound, circles rubbing along the raw flesh. “Z-dog, or Z works”
You nod, leaning back as you rest the q-tip on the silver tray as you reach for a bandage. “Well Z, luckily there's no signs of infection, I suggest regular icing to increase blood flow to the area and less intense use of that arm” you lay an ice bag by her non injured arm.
“For how long, this is the arm i shoot with, i’ve actually got shit to do”
“Depends on the speed of your muscle recovery, for humans though, it would be at least 3 weeks before you can do lifts with that arm again without permanent tissue damage” Your fingers worked nimbly, wrapping the bandage around her toned arm
Her relaxed form suddenly seemed riled up again as the words came out of your mouth, frown etching its way on her face as she growled. “I’ll be fucking damned”
“And because the bite had drawn your blood out of that part of your flesh, your tattoo ink had also leaked out with it, so that might be distorted, if not gone” the bandage was pressed with care before wrapped with another layer of gauze.
The cold buzz of the AC in the ward almost did nothing to combat the way her face heat up as your palm pressed the bandage in place with medical tape, before she remembered the proper emotion she was supposed to be feeling, rage, not whatever appreciation she was developing towards a person that only made her future work inconvenient by dramatifying the injury
“Listen Z, I’m only here to help, I know this is a frustrating situation, but the only thing you can do is to rest, and if there’s anything i can do to help in your recovery, please tell me” you say, your recited script towards angry patients such as her prepared as she kicks herself off the bed, stalking towards your form as you explain softly.
“Listen up miss nurse, I didn’t need this. I’ll be going out to the mission and I’ll be doing whatever I like with this arm that you only damaged more with your shit medical proceudure.” She growls angrily, the blood loss from the injury and your scent making her head spin with confusion. 
Why did she have the urge to pull you into her, to feel your sweet scent closer, what is this strange undertone to her anger?
You say nothing as her non-injured arm slams her first into the wall behind you, her bubblegum scent ghosting over you as she towered, tail swishing excitedly as her tone said exactly the opposite things
“I didn’t ask for this, the recombinant bodies heal faster and I don’t need your false pity, and maybe you’d know if you actually did anything other than sit in your pretty little ward, so i’m gonna fucking show you now”
What she did next shocked you, it hadn’t processed in your brain that her single hand had somehow made it to pin both of your arms above her and you were only able to see the flash of her mohawk as a warm spotch bubblegum was spat out. And before you even had time to squirm in response, you felt fangs sinking into your blue neck much similar to the way the carnivorous plant had done to her arm, but with surprising tenderness
Zdog had no idea what she was doing, no. She did. She was doing this to teach you a lesson, to demonstrate how the recombinant bodies worked as you clearly had no idea. She wasn’t doing this because of how much she indulged in the fluttering in her heart and stomach when she tasted the softness of your skin, the addictive feeling of your flesh on her tongue.
No blood was drawn, her saliva connecting her to the bright mark as she pulled away, still glaring at you as she inhaled sweet cherry rapidly, savoring the sweet taste of your flesh and laughing against your collarbone as she heard your cry. Damned the way her body relaxed like a cat as she retreated.
“And you’ll be paying for that tattoo that i lost” she said matter-of-factly, boots sliding across the floor as she slammed the door to the ward, leaving you dazed, confused, and the mark on your neck burning as her brown queue swished out of sight, the ice bag chunks rattling like her heart on the way out.
You couldn’t deny that you had enjoyed your little scuffle with her, you couldn’t help it, feeling the magnetic attraction the soldier exuded from her built form and confidence. And even if deep down you knew it was wrong, you’d be stupid to report it to anyone in the RDA, the recom team was basically the backbone of all the physical operations holding the establishment up, they wouldn’t hear a recombination nurse out if it meant the best to them
Zdog returned to her quarters, jaw empty of the bright pink bubblegum that frequented her mouth as she rolled her tongue around her teeth, trying to memorize the way your flesh felt around them.
In her mind, gnawed a voice, telling her to apologize to you, to see you again, to thank you
Her head reeled with swirling new emotions that she swore were useless as she layed on her bed pried open her sketchbook, trying to sketch an image of you, memorizing every feature before she realized her dominant arm was in too much pain.
She huffed frustratedly, before throwing her head back to her pillow, and icing her arm
Whenever she had been injured before, her comrades had laughed at her weakness, taking it as a chance to demote her position or belittle her for feeling pain, along with the fact that she had been a female, it had caused her to be pushed around.
But you? No “get over it”s or belittling laughs, just words of genuine advice as your fingers pressed gently into her wound, smoothing over the years of mistreatment she had received, and whether it was rehearsed from years of expertise as a medic or genuine care, your sweet cherry scent made it all too confusing to distinct.
Now all that filled her head is the sound of your sweet voice as it reassured her and your form in the white medic robes that softly pressed against her cargo vest.
Reminiscing, she lifted the ice bag, tracing the bandage where your delicate fingers had graced upon her arm, and a smile made its way upon her face unknowingly.
A brilliant excuse to see you again creeped its way into her mind as she ripped off the bandage, admiring the way you had folded it intricately as she held it to her chest, her heart beating rapidly.
I need to see her again, I need to, and I will no matter what.
Deep down she knew it was not needed, but two weeks off with an injured arm called for routines out of the ordinary.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just do something useless for once, the anger would be just as time consuming as the weird feeling of attachment she felt near you.
She slept disturbingly well that night, the cloth held close to her chest as she dreamed of tied hair, marked necks, and sweet cherries.
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Despite not having duty, the responsible soldier still awoke early to send off the colonel and the rest of the team, still holding back her complaints when the colonel shook her head, telling her she wouldn’t be any good with her shooting arm injured before he assigned her to stay at the base.
As soon as the recom helicopter lifted off into to pandora sky, she skipped excitedly to the mess hall, where breakfast was being served, cherry red gum popping in her mouth as she scanned the room for a particular blue medic
Her heart seems to sink stupidly when not a single other blue form was seen in the room, her jaw tightening around the cherry gum as the flavor seemed to taunt her
That’s right, this is what you deserve for being such a impulsive asshole, indulging yourself in emotions that waste more of your time, and wasting even more energy walking around to find her
You see the agile female’s tail swishing curiously from miles away, you approach her, squinting when you realize she doesn’t have her bandage from yesterday
Zdog’s jaw immediately falls slack when she smells it, her heart racing, reciting your name, as it sends her stepping back towards the source, almost knocking into your form.
“Back so soon?” You tilt your head towards her bare arm, scar breathing without the bandage
“Looking for you nurse, just needed another bandage, you didn’t anchor it enough and it fell off when I was sending the squad off earlier” Zdog says fluently, rehearsed words from her practiced scenarios ready for whatever response you have
You only raise your eyebrows, chuckling as you led her back to the ward. Not that you were really a faster walker by any chance, the soldier made a strong effort to take smaller strolls to admire your beautiful form from the back, the sweet swirls of tenderness and affection filling her as her heart pounded louder and louder as you sat her down to bandage her, almost 10 times as intense as the way it had felt yesterday
Correct to Zdog’s assumption, the scar had indeed healed a lot faster than you had expected, though her arm was still sore and healing, the wounds had closed up a lot faster than expected
You raise your eyebrows when you see that her scar has healed fast, leaning back as your eyes scan over it
She gulps almost nervously, voice coarse and low as she mumbles “what’re you lookin at, nurse, get on with it”
“Maybe you were right, recombinant bodies really do heal much faster, i doubt you really even need the bandage” you say hesitantly, as if questioning your own healing abilities
Zdog’s eyes widen as she reaches out for you, fingers around your arm as she tries to sound as threatening as possible, but her words coming out as pleas instead ``Nope. You’re a medic aren’t you? So do your job and bandage me, or else I can get you fired and on your way back to earth” she had plotted this with so much meticulous thought just to feel your fingers on her arm again! It surely can’t go to waste, she was gonna go out and find another carnivorous plant if she had to
You smile softly, chuckling and the sound goes straight through Zdog’s ears into her heart. 
What is this fluttering feeling? Why won’t it stop?
“Where’s this compliancy coming from, you barely let me do anything yesterday, Ms. I have shit to do with this arm” you sit down and twist the cap off the healing cream, grabbing another q tip
Zdog rolls her eyes naturally, although she cant help but open it faster when she feels the rub of the soothing cream on her arm, amber eyes trained on your experienced movements
“If I really wanted to get back, maybe I should heal in the right way so I can do shit faster” she muses, fingers tempted to run themselves down your delicate queue and spine that was exposed to her as you leaned to heal her
You blink, sighing as you reach for the gauze “I think you were right though, maybe these procedures are only damaging it more, maybe it needs to just breathe. Are you sure you need the bandage?”
Zdog nods rapidly, her bold neck tattoos becoming a blur of black and blue as she spits out, trying to keep up her shell up and ignore whatever was swirling in her heart an brain “What do you think? Does that arm look anywhere near healed to you? Do you want me to walk around unbandaged and get a worse injury?”
It wouldn’t hurt to just indulge in the useless things a little bit, processes that only really waste time if it’s with you. It wouldn’t hurt to just have it on if it meant your fingers would grace my arm everyday
“Plus, I’m sure the only reason the lil nasty’s recovered this fast is because of your speed and expertise in treating it yesterday, don’t question your skill” The sentence hopped out of Zdog’s mouth almost unknowingly, and she almost wanted to bash her head against the wall. What did she say that for? You didn’t need reassurance, reassurance was for people who didn’t know anything, people who needed others to walk them along
Before her thoughts become more self deprecating, your laugh echoes through the ward, the cold silver and white walls suddenly becoming welcoming as you shake your head, anchoring the gauze in palace on your arms
“Flattering, but I really mean it when I say I think you may have been right about recombinant bodies healing faster” you lift your neck, bearing the mark that was violently purple yesterday, faded to a shade of lavender with the fang indents like marks of violet.
Zdog swallows, feeling both guilty and in a weird way, proud when she sees the mark.
“Yeah about that, that’s my bad, I was pissed and out of my mind because I’ve never been told to stay off duty yesterday, being out all day in that damp jungle heated my blood, and I may have been tryna prove a point about recombinants but that was completely fucked up and unnecessary”
she looks down at her lap, 9 feet body suddenly feeling like she was a young human girl in the marines again, disappointing her sergeant for not being as strong and capable as they expected
You set down the gauze gently and lean down to peer at her, her downcasted gaze unable to see the slight blush on your face “I’m not gonna say it’s okay to bite a medic that was trying to treat you, but you’re lucky it was me, I didn’t mind it that much, and it really did prove a point that recombinant bodies heal faster”
Zdog nods quickly, happy as she detected no anger in your voice. “Never trying that again for sure though”
“The world’s medical field is in danger if that's what you act like to everyone who tries to treat you” you chortle
For the rest of the day, Z-Dog spent time helping you maintain the ward as an extended apology to her behavior yesterday as she continued to indulge in the honey like emotion that came with being near you
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- Through the next week, the ward seems to grow warmer and more homey every time Z-Dog visits (though by the first four days, her arm was completely fine, she found excuses) unknowingly, Z-Dog began to sink in the feeling of the previously useless emotions, letting it consume her until she was wasted in love
- Without knowing it, morning visits for rebandaging had turned into long conversations where Z-Dog healed more than the injury of her arm, but burns and bruises of her childhood and life as a female soldier that was constantly undermined, you saw that her hard exterior seemed to be a essential part of her that she needed for protection
- And to be honest, Z-Dog didn’t think really about what she said to you or how she said it, words just flew out of her mouth as the soft feeling of trust and affection drifted over her, your understanding gaze and comforting words binding you together like a web
- The bonding had quickly grown into something wordlessly essential and romantic, things Z-Dog always used to qualify as a waste, but now just like her cold exterior, the soft moments where your hands interlaced as she talked to you about her past seemed just as natural.
- She was almost always in contact with you, physically, whether it was the ways her eyes followed your every move or the way her hand was always by your hip, shoulder, head, it became a constant
- She followed you everywhere in the guise of protection in return for you healing her and never let her eyes off you
- And even when you were busy or actually did have other RDA matters, they seem to come cancelled last minute on short notice (because even the officials knew not to mess with a injured recom soldier that was defending the organization), and you couldn’t just leave Z-Dog alone, her words always seemed to have a way of wrapping themselves against you
- “You’re gonna leave your injured patient waiting alone like that when she’s in pain needing medical attention? Wow, I thought you cared about me” 
- “You still owe me for the tattoo, yknow, so it might be less financially burdening in the future if you treat me well right now”
- There were many late nights where Z-Dog had opted to stay in your quarters instead of hers, arguing that she slept better and healed faster, her sketchbook filling up with doodles and intricate charcoal lines with details of you. Her beloved muse.
- Back in her own quarters, folded along her sketches of you were her past bandages, as well as hairbands she stole from you, keeping everything that you had touched or interacted with like a piece of magical artifact organized like a shrine upon her nightstand as she put them under her pillow, sleeping well to the thought of you.
- Two weeks had passed by and her arm was as good as new, as the two of you only grew closer and closer,  the romantic attraction was undeniable, your blue tails tangled together as her arms sneak around your waist while you you documented her healing progress at the ward
- Until one morning the cool, brazen female soldier was gone, leaving you alone and confused in your empty bed before you realized that her duty had begun again. The past weeks had been nothing but a vacation and relaxation for her, and now that she is back on duty you could certainly expect to never speak to her again. It was all probably just a sort of short term association with her
- The day passed in a sort of a weird haze for you, strolling around the base without the sight of your certain badass soldier you were infatuated with
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The night after her first day on duty, rapid knocks sound at your ward door as you’re working overtime, trying to distract yourself from your attachment with Zdog. Distraught and confused, you rush out of your seat in your white robes as you open it and see the female soldier, bright as ever
“Oh? Come to visit after ditching me this morning?” You say, a bit salty as you step back, suddenly noticing a bandage on her upper arm again
Z-Dog only looks at you, pupils filled with affection and joy as she laughs “Actually, I need help with my arm again”
You blink back an eye roll, used to the intentional injuries she sometimes did to recieve more medical attention from you as you wordlessly sit her down on the bed like many nights before where you guys had laughed, cried, kissed, and loved as your nimble fingers unwrap her bandage.
The white gauze falls away and under the soft glow of your examination table light and your eyes are busy scanning for cuts, violet reds or blood, or dark bruises that you almost miss it at first
Black, bold, yet slick and elegant letters curve around her blue skin, replacing the faded and distorted tattoo that had once been there, thick and bold as the ink is fresh, you can almost still see the puncture of the needles that she so willingly sat through and for hours before she had rushed up to your door, the shock in your eyes blurs your vision until you focus in and make out the letters of your name, with a tiny, clumsy heart identical that you had doodled on her sketchbook nights ago next to it
“Z- what is this” You breath in awe
“Well, you were the person that helped my arm heal the fastest, and parts of my heart as well, so why not dedicate the new area of skin to you instead of redoing a boring old tattoo” She chuckles matter of factly, pulling you into her lap as you continue staring at in awe
“Oh Zdinarsk” You gasp, tears blurring your vision as you look at the huge bold letters
“You never paid me back for the one I lost though, so how about a deal” She looks up at you playfully, true unfiltered joy in her once callous eyes
“Be my girl? My personal nurse, hm?” She asks cooly, thumbs smoothing over your ears as if her own heart wasnt pounding through the heavy cargo vest she wore for duty
And when you nod happily as she pulls you into a kiss of many to come, she realizes in the moment that yes, love wasn’t entirely necessary, and neither was her tattoo, or opening up to you, or the feelings that overtook her when she held you to herself proudly the next day as she introduced you to the squad, arm still firm around your waist as if to mark you for herself
None of it was necessary, and yes, maybe she was wasting her time, her love, her emotions. But even love was nothing more than a waste of her time, she would gladly waste it all on you, over and over again.
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maxxxineminxxx · 6 months
Text
summer love || Eddie Munson
a/n: i am thinking about writing a few blurbs for this story like when Eddie realized he liked her and also maybe some memories from when they were young like when they first met. so let me know if you want those or if you have any other ideas.
summary : y/n hasnt returned to Hawkins since she was fourteen and on her first day back she bumps into her old childhood bestfriend who she hasnt spoken to or seen in years. They are having an amazing time until he asks one question. why didnt she return? warnings : fluff and some angst
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Summer was your favorite time of year, cherishing the warm weather, the much needed break from school and being able to hangout with your friends whenever. But this summer was different. You had to visit your mom in Hawkins, Indiana and spend your summer there. The journey to Hawkins, Indiana, felt like a step into the past. The memories of those childhood visits were hazy, a blend of long-forgotten adventures and fleeting moments with your mom.
The small town welcomed you with friendly faces. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling of being almost a complete stranger here. The memories were distant, and much had changed since your last visit at the age of fourteen.
The first day was as fun as it could be in the small town where you arrived at forest hills trailer park. Your mom greeted you warmly, but quickly headed off to work, So you opted to explore your surroundings. You set out to revisit the old places that had once been your havens of adventure and wonder. The book store.
The bell tinkled gently as you entered the bookshop. The scent of aged paper and ink filled the air creating an inviting atmosphere that seemed to embrace every visitor. You made your way past rows of neatly arranged shelves. You began to read the titles of the romance novels running your fingers along the spines, drawn to the promise of captivating love stories.
A shiver ran down your spine as you continued to scan the titles in the romance section. The feeling of being watched hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't shake the sensation that someone's eyes were fixed on you. Your heart quickened its pace, and you discreetly glanced around, trying to identify the source of your unease.
When your eyes met another.Your eyes locked across the bookshop, his gaze intense. He stood amidst the fantasy section.A strange sense of familiarity washed over you, a feeling that you had encountered before, though you couldn't place when or where. His face held a familiarity that teased at the edges of my memory, like a half-remembered dream.
You  broke eye contact and drew your attention back onto the book in your hands. Walking over to the cashier paying and walking straight out. As you were walking out you heard your name being called, turning around you saw him again. The guy in the bookstore. 
“y/n” he said but it sounded more like a question almost as if he was unsure. “Yeah” I replied back, sounding just as unsure as he did. “Woah uh you look different… you look good not that you didn't look good before but i just haven't seen you in like so many years i wasn't sure if it was actually you but you are and wow” the boy rambled on rather fast, not even stopping for air.
His features slowly came into focus, and a rush of memories flooded back.
‘’ Eddie?’’ you screamed as you launched yourself  into his arms and he hugged you back tightly.“You look so different, how have you been?” “Well you know, I could be better still stuck here, redoing senior year for the third time but other than that im just peachy’’ he said with a genuine laugh you smiled back at him. “Well third times the charm” you laugh. At that moment, you felt as happy as ever, grateful for this unexpected reunion.
It was a joyous moment, filled with laughter, as we strolled back to the trailer park, eagerly sharing stories and catching up on the last few years. you noticed a hint of disappointment flicker across his face every time you brought up a funny memory from your childhood. you did your best to brush it off, sensing there might be something more beneath the surface.
We sat down on my front porch and you looked over at him before he spoke. “Can i ask you a question y/n” you nodded your head.
“Why didn't you come back ? you told me you were coming back and that you would be here for the summer again, you came to hawkins every summer and then one day you just didn't show up. I waited for you at the bus stop and I wrote to you… but I never got a reply.”  
The question you had been dreading finally surfaced. you looked up at him with a sad smile and let out a shaky sigh. " I didn't want to be your friend anymore. I only came here every summer to visit you, my mom didn't care if i was here or not though she most likely would of enjoyed it more if i had just stayed at my dads. We had been friends since we were six years old and i started to feel different okay?’’  
1980 flashback 
Today was Eddie's fourteenth birthday. You spent all morning making him the perfect chocolate cake that you knew he was going to absolutely devour in five minutes. You had spent all weekend trying to find the perfect gift for him and settled on the Lord of the Rings books which he had been talking about wanting forever. You put on your nicest sundress, curled your hair slightly and even did some basic makeup. You weren't sure what these new feelings were. Why did you all of a sudden feel the need to look your best infront of him? You shoved those feelings down and headed over to his trailer. Gift bag in one hand and cake in the other. 
“Eddie” you screamed excitedly as the boy rushed out of the trailer to help you inside.
You placed the cake on the table and put his gift bag in front of him.you started singing happy birthday to him and he flushed red hugging you tightly.He was already eyeing the cake and bouncing with excitement. “You can open your gift first or we can eat cake first it's up to you birthday boy” you said to him 
‘’ I can multitask, how about we do both” he replied, overjoyed, grabbing plates and digging into the cake. Then grabbing his gift bag and opening it.you watched as he looked at the books with nothing but happiness. 
He jumped up from his chair and gave you a bone crushing hug lifting you from your chair.
“Eddie, I need air please’’ you said , hardly breathing at this point.
“Oh yeah sorry” he replied, letting you go and staring at you for a moment before thanking you a million times and placing kisses all over your face.you giggled uncontrollably and started pushing him away. You stared at him for a moment. Both of you are out of breath from laughing and smiles on your faces. 
Were you in love with your best friend? 
“ I'm really sorry eds” you said to him as he stared at you and hurt was all over his face.
“ i think- i think maybe i liked you” you told him truthfully he laughed softly The sadness that had clouded his face suddenly lifted, replaced by a glimmer of relief and understanding ‘’ i liked you too y/n” “ no eds not in a best friend kind of way… more than that’’ you said shyly 
‘’ i know’’ he said looking at me happily
“ what- what do you mean you know? I never told you and I tried really hard not to show it too. Do you know how hard it was not to tell you ! i didn't want to ruin our friendship because i thought it would never work cause we only saw each other once a year for a couple days and there was no way you felt the same” you rambled quickly not stopping for air once before he put his hands onto your face and smiled at you. you looked at him for a second before quickly looking at his lips. His lips crashed into yours and you smiled into the kiss. You felt like you were fourteen again giggling like a school girl with her first crush. 
In that very moment, you were overjoyed and you realized that the 14-year-old version of yourself had envisioned this scenario a million times, at the very least.It was a revelation you never saw coming. All those summers of concealing your feelings for the boy you had grown to care for more deeply than you had ever imagined possible were over. You didn't need to hide those emotions any longer, because it turned out he felt the same way. 
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cowgurrrl · 8 months
Note
OKAY WAIT
late night talks with college!joel - how reader and him came to date. they were studying they got distracted talking about something and stayed up all night taking. now joel can get her off his mind. 😉
thank you harry styles <3
I’ll kiss you on the mouth dude I love this idea
UPDATE: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT AND IF IT WASNT FOR MY MELATONIN KICKING IN I WOULDVE CONTINUED IT
She’s got a book for every situation
Pairing: college!joel x fem!reader
Summary: this ask
Author’s note: typed in tumblr and not proofread so god speed slayers 🫡
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Joel being The Biggest Flirt, June your BA in English is showing, I think that’s it??
Working at the writing center on campus has its perks. You get unlimited printing, editing experience, and free coffee. Granted, it’s from a pot that had been simmering for several days but it’s free nevertheless. You’ve even managed to get in good with a few professors who would recommend their students come to you if they need help. Normally, they don’t take the advice until finals week and they all scramble into your office all at once. So, when a tall guy with curly dark hair walks into your desolate lobby, you’re a little surprised. He looks lost with a stack of papers piled in his hands and visibly relaxes when he sees you peek your head out.
“Hey there. Can I help you?” You ask, approaching him.
“Maybe. ‘M from Dr. Phillips class and she said to come to the writing center and ask for…” He trails off as he glances down at his paper before saying your name. “Said she might be able to help me with my paper.”
“Yeah, I think she can help you with your paper.” You say and hold out your hand to grab the red inked paper. It’s a paper on Kerouac who’s never been your favorite. In fact, you wrote an entire paper about how pretentious and privileged Jack Kerouac actually was but that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is that you know how to write a paper professors are looking for. You feel his eyes scanning your face as you read his thesis and try to ignore the blush creeping over your cheeks.
“I take it you’re the brilliant writer Dr. Phillips likes so much.” He says. You smile but don’t take your eyes off his words so you don’t get distracted by his presence.
“Dr. Phillips doesn’t like anyone.”
“She seemed to like you. Told me all about how smart you are,” he says. “Never mentioned the pretty part, though.” Finally, you look up and meet his gaze.
“Technically Dr. Phillips isn’t allowed to recommend one student editor over another. It’s against our policy and makes things a little fairer for everyone. So, can we keep this little secret between us…” you let your sentence end, realizing you never asked his name, and he holds out his free hand.
“Joel.” He says and you shake his hand.
“Well, Joel, I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to help you get your paper in order if you agree to not get me fired. Fair deal?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He says politely.
You spend the rest of the day walking Joel through essay structures, grammar mistakes, and thesis issues. His argument is strong but it needs to be more concise and punchier. When you try to explain it to him in those terms, he looks at you like you’re from Mars. Eventually, after a little too much flirty small talk, he tells you about his dad’s construction company and you learn to put flowery, over dramatic writing advice into clean, neat boxes that he understands completely. Unfortunately, you don’t end up finishing the actual essay before the center closes.
“You’re free to come back tomorrow morning so we can finish this.” You say as you gather your things and stuff them in your backpack. Joel stretches in his chair, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a gorgeous sliver of tan skin and you have to force your eyes away from the sight.
“D’you live far from here?” He asks, standing and throwing his own backpack over one shoulder. You waffle for a moment, unsure if you want to tell this almost perfect stranger where you live.
“Maybe a ten minute walk. It’s not bad for Austin.”
“Can I walk you home? Since I kept you so late,” he asks. Once again, you hesitate. Joel doesn’t seem like the typical frat guy you’ve come to fear since your time at school. He actually seems gentle and genuine. You turn the thought over a few more times before he throws his hands up. “‘S just an offer to make sure you get home safe. I’ll even carry your backpack for you if you want.” He offers and you smile. You take another second before handing him your heavy backpack. He slings it over his free shoulder and walks to the door to open it for you, keys jingling in your hand as you lock up the writing center for the night. The humid Texas night suffocates you the second you step out into the fading daylight.
“You always carry girls’ backpacks home?” You ask as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Campus is mostly empty this time of night, everyone crawling home after class to pregame or cry or both. Squirrels patrol the sidewalks for any students who may want to hand them a piece from their bagel or sandwich. Someone honks their horn in distant standstill Austin traffic, and the sun slowly slides behind the Capitol. It’s peaceful.
“Only when I make ‘em read my shitty writing.” He says and you laugh.
“Your writing’s not bad, Joel. It’s actually very good. Essays are just the worst to write.”
“You like ‘em enough to work at the writing center.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I actually care about,” you shrug. “At this point, I’m a warm body with a clicky pen.”
“Woah there, Kafka. I think you’re a little more than that,” Joel laughs and you have to laugh too. Not only for the perfectly on brand joke but for the tone in his voice. The playful lilt makes your head feel fuzzy. “Alright then, if you don’t like essays and you don’t like Kerouac, what do you like? What do you wanna write?” He asks and you take a deep breath. It’s a question you’ve fielded more than enough times in your college career to know that not many people like your answer.
“I’m not sure yet. I like a little bit of everything.”
“Have you written anythin’ I would’ve read?”
“No,” you laugh. “Probably not.”
“Why’s that funny?” He asks and you shake your head.
“Because nobody wants to publish my work. It’s too… rough.”
“Rough?” He raises his eyebrows at you.
“Yeah. Publishers either want the next Great American Novel or nothing at all, and I am not next Great American Novel material.”
“How do you know?”
“Because nobody’s publishing me.”
“Maybe, you’re not lookin’ in the right places,” he says. “‘M just sayin’ someone as smart as you has to have somethin’ someone will wanna take.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go holdin’ your breath on me, cowboy.”
“Why do you do that?” He asks suddenly and you stop to look at him.
“Do what?” You ask.
“Try and play it off whenever someone compliments you.” He says with glaring honesty. It sets you back in your heels but you quickly recover.
“You’ve only known me for a few hours. How do you know I’m not just incredibly humble?”
“I guess I don’t,” he says. “Could I buy you a drink and figure it out?” It could be the way he, somehow, sees right through you already or the way his brown eyes look in the sunlight but you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach. You purse your lips together and dare a step closer to him.
“Tell you what, if you get an A on this paper, I’ll let you buy me a drink.” You say.
“And if I fail?” He asks and you shake your head.
“You won’t fail.”
“But what if I do?”
“If you do, you have to…” you search your brain. “Carry my backpack home for me for a week.”
“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am.”
“But I take it Joel Miller’s a bettin’ man.”
“See, smarter than you think.” He quips and you roll your eyes.
“One thing at a time, lover boy.”
Joel ends up getting the highest grade on his essay out of anyone in his class. Dr. Phillips commends his dedication to bettering his first draft and tells him to keep up the good work. “Whatever you did to change this, keep it up.” She says when she places his graded essay on his desk. When he presents the A to you at the writing center, all you can do is applaud him and smile.
“I told you you’d pass.” You say, poking at his firm chest.
“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Maybe I just needed a little motivation.”
“Oh, yeah? What was that?”
“I think I was promised a date.” He says cheekily and you nod.
“You were, and my mama raised me to be a woman of my word,” you smile. “Jenny, do you mind closing up for me tonight?” You ask the receptionist and she shakes her head.
“Not at all, darlin’. Have a good night.” She winks at you when Joel turns his back and you stick your tongue out at her.
Say what you will about the writing center but you think a date with a broad, tall, handsome cowboy is the best thing that could’ve come out of that hell hole.
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prof-peach · 10 months
Note
Speaking of tattoos, other than the cleanse tag does peach (or any of the main trio for that matter) have any other notable tattoos?
I was just discussing this with friends the other day weirdly.
So the cleanse tag was done in Hisui. It was a functional fix for a problematic foe, and she returned with it, which to the other two was a wild addition. not to mention a bunch of new scars, but none of them saw her being the one to go and get tattoos. Just never crossed their mind.
Peach got a little bit by the ink bug however, and after a year or so of being home, she claims some holiday time for "reseach purposes" and goes off to Unova, saying its for study, and for the most part, it is. The staff, Grey and Plum all stay behind and only hear from her in the form of phonecalls, she wont use videocalls, never has, so its the best they have, and hear she's been travelling and gathering some useful connections. Two months pass, Peach returns home. Everyones glad to see her, she went off with her core team, but the house mons and Greys/Plums mons MISSED her (mostly). She doesnt even get a second to go around and see all the island residents, before both her partners are on her, the peak of something creeping up the side of her neck. The jacket shes in gets stolen away by force, and they are shocked to see a full sleeve of pinkish blossoms and gentle leaves all down her right arm, up under the sleeveless shirt, creeping up that side of her neck.
Grey thinks its cool. He now wants one. Badly. only reason hes not sooner is he was unable to pick a design. Plum is LIVID, Peach didnt say anything, this is like her haircut all over again except WORSE. BECAUSE SHE KNEW IT WAS A HUGE DEAL AND SAID NOTHING. Plum sulks, Grey asks questions, but it takes no time for the ranger to be back, demanding to see the whole thing, and an apology.
Staff find it neat, but are not so bothered as her loved ones. Plums still mad weeks later, she's making it up to her but Peach is in the dog house a little for this one.
Grey eventually finds an artist he likes, but what he gets is a mystery as of yet. We shall see, but he's defo on track to get some!
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(I drew this for a diff AU for funsies but they worked so well it stuck, so have the OG doodle, it may change A BIT, but otherwise is very close)
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ququb444hm · 4 months
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𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝
part 30 / sassy man apocalypse ☆
masterlist
warning(s): *REUPLOAD* bc i didnt like the first one n i am in love with angst/comfort, possible typos, profanity, kys joke
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rain pitter-pattered against the glass windows of mr. ramirez’s classroom as soft jazz filled the empty conversations of college students writing out their history essays due at the end of the week. 
“aw man. what the hell.” rin groaned as he accidentally wrote down the wrong citation on his worksheet. “mori, do you have white-out? i keep fucking messing up and i’m so close to throwing the whole paper away.”
rummaging through his green pencil pouch, the sandy blond shook his head with a frown. “think i might’ve forgotten it in my dorm, sorry. nn* might have some though,” he stood up from his chair, walking over to yn’s table which was as quiet as ever.
(nn = nickname)
keiji had just left to go use the bathroom a few minutes ago, the seat in front of his being vacant also because that student barely came to class, today was no different. the girl who was assigned to sit in front of yn was fast asleep and the other kid who was supposed to be in front of kozume had moved to talk to their friend across the room. this left yn and kozume alone together. awkward. 
but yn didn’t seem to care... or to notice.
actually, she didn’t even seem mentally present.
mr. ramirez was still getting used to being in a physical classroom after persistently having asynchronous classes for almost two years because he simply “didn’t wanna get out of bed.”— he often supported his statement by falling asleep after his short lectures and with the current weather, it was easy to do so. 
so whenever yn had history class, it was basically a free period. which was very much needed after the conversation she had the previous day with shoyou. just what did he mean when he said kozume was scared of letting himself be happy? so focused on the question at hand that everything around her all mushed together into an unimportant blur. the pen in her dominant hand moved on autopilot, creating messy scribbles all over her notebook– seemingly illustrating her disordered mind.
“yn, do you have any white-out? cause oh! uh-” mori peeked over her shoulder, seeing the black ink pour out of the pen and dance like there was no tomorrow all over the lined paper. “uhm.. yn?”
noticing her unresponsive behavior, kozume placed a gentle hand over hers, squeezing it ever so slightly. “hey,” his soft touch mixed with the familiar comforting sound of his voice lulled yn’s tangled thoughts, bringing her back to the present moment. “are you okay? mori was trying to talk to you but you weren’t responding.”
“hm? oh.” collecting herself, yn turned to face her friend with a smile. “sorry, mori.”
the libero raised a brow at the interaction, his eyes lingering on the physical contact of their hands that still continued even with yn snapped out of her daze. “uh yeah, all good, nn. rin just needed some white-out 'cause i forgot mine. so i’ll be taking this-” he situated himself in between yn and kozume’s chairs, purposely hovering the top half of his body over their joined hands (with his ass poking out because of the weird position) to emphasize his nonverbal disapproval at the blond, before dramatically grabbing the white-out and dragging it to the edge of the desk, successfully (and awkwardly) separating their hands in the process. “pleasure doing business with you.” he chirped, giving kozume a dirty look before trudging back to his own table.
“sorry.” kozume mumbled, turning his attention back to his work. he internally groaned, scolding himself for what he did. ‘couldn’t you just tap her shoulder? but noooo you just can’t keep your hands off her. stupid.’
“it’s okay.” yn reassured. “actually, kozume i-” the sound of the chair next to her sliding against the vinyl flooring made her stop her sentence– keiji was back. “nevermind."
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as time drew on, it was finally the end of morning classes, and yet it was still pouring outside. even heavier than when class started.
“be careful out there!” mr. ramirez warned, watching as students bustled out of his class and into the rain. “make sure to turn your essays in by friday, midnight! each minute after the deadline is my increasing disappointment in all of you!”
“you sure you’re okay going with him?” mori asked for the fifth time as yn packed her bag. kozume blankly stared at mori, wanting to get out of the class as soon as possible because he could feel keiji staring at them, eavesdropping on the conversation. he internally begged keiji wouldn’t try to confront him about walking with yn. 
but, in all honestly…he was a little happy that yn had asked. even if it was because of tetsu. he missed her. every single fiber in his body yearned to be with her. hate coursed his body ever since that night. but only for himself. he wouldn’t, couldn’t, never blame anyone else, even keiji, for his actions because he knew that in the end, he was the one that told yn all those cruel words. so when yn asked if he could accompany her to pick up tetsu, he was grateful that they were able to have some time alone. just the two of them.
yn sent her friend a comforting smile. “i’ll be okay, don’t worry about me. just let coach know we’re gonna be a little late m’kay?” mori sighed, knowing he couldn’t change her mind even if he physically dragged yn away from kozume– they’d just find their way back to each other one way or another.
“see you.” rin murmured, ruffling yn’s hair before walking out with mori.
“which building is tetsu in?” kozume asked, getting his umbrella ready.
yn fixed the straps of her bag, waving at mr. rameriz as she and kozume exited the class before answering, “pretty sure it's on the second floor of T building.”
“ohh.”
“is that okay?”
“yeah. that’s okay.”
the walk to T building was quiet and a bit tense. yn fidgeted with her hands, shoyou’s words still circulating through her mind. she wanted answers from kozume. she wanted him to tell her why things were the way they were between them. but she didn’t want to force it out of him. she wanted kozume to come to her first. her eyes focused on the path in front, letting the sound of the rain calm her down. 
kozume on the other hand, he couldn’t stop staring at her. he never could in the first place. yn was just so spellbinding, and the rain wasn’t helping in the slightest. he had so much to say, but he could never find the right words when it came to her. he stopped in his tracks, holding onto the umbrella tightly. his free hand pulled at the hem of yn’s jacket so they were facing each other. “yn, i’m sorry.” his voice was soft. it was almost hard to hear over the harsh rain. 
the sudden gesture caught yn off guard. “wha..?” kozume’s apology, though expected because of how much they both knew his words affected yn, came out of nowhere. “kozume-”
“i know i haven’t been honest with you, but i..” he pursed his lips, mind going blank as he stared into yn’s inquisitive eyes. “i don’t know what to do.” his voice sounding desperate. sounding lost.
“kozume,” every time she said his name, it felt like a stab to the heart. he missed how her voice was laced with so much love when she’d call him kozu or koz, but now his name seemed foreign as it rolled off her tongue. she placed a comforting hand on his, returning the gentle squeeze he gave her previously. “you’re my friend before anything that happens. i don’t know what’s happening with you, and it physically hurts to have you push me away, but i’ll always want to be someone you can talk to.” her thumb rubbed the back of his hand, soothing all his anxious assumptions of how the conversation would’ve turned out.
her touch was so soft and warm, a heavenly contrast to the heavy rainfall. kozume’s features relaxed, his head falling forward to rest on yn’s shoulder. her other hand reached to caress his head. “i don’t want to keep hurting you.” he mumbled.
“i don’t want to keep getting hurt either, kozume.”
“i know, i’m sorry yn. please be a little more patient with me. i didn’t mean anything i said that night, i was just overwhelmed and i regret taking it out on you.”
yn continued running her fingers through his blond hair. she slowly nodded, letting his words sink in. “i don’t forgive you for what you said, and how you constantly kept confusing me before that night, but i’m not mad at you, kozume.” her hold on his hand tightened in just the slightest. “it hurt when you made me feel you liked me back and kissed me only to call everything a mistake, and it hurt when you told me you weren’t being honest with me just now. you hurt me kozume, but still, i don’t want to lose you.”
the two stayed in their positions for a few more minutes. allowing themselves to bask in each other’s comfort. yn was the only good thing in kozume’s life, he knew that. and for a moment he let himself forget just how much he needed her. but he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 
he knew he had to talk to keiji.
“what took you guys so long?!” tetsu fussed. after what was about 15 minutes since the bell, the two had finally made it to tetsurou’s class. “and why is my sister wet, kozu!? i thought you had an umbrella??” he quickly removed his own jacket, placing it on top of yn’s smaller figure. 
“it’s raining hard as fuck out there.” kozume groaned, also damp from the rain
“why do you guys still have practice anyway.” yn shivered, wrapping herself in the added fabric. “i know your game is coming up but what if some of you get sick?”
“no pain, no gain!” tetsu insisted, grabbing kozume’s umbrella from him and pushing the two out of the class. “now we gotta hurry..coach called me like three times telling me to get my ass to the gym!”
yn checked her phone to see if she had gotten a call also,
2 missed calls from milo’s dad 🫶🏼 1 missed call from SUNAVABITCH 🤣🤣 3 missed calls from alcoholic (coach) ⭐️
“well, fuck.”
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part 29 secret little personal diary <- | masterlist | -> part 31 old man
note(s): me when i lie n say i'll finish this before thanksgiving break but i didn't >p< (IM SORRY.) anyways.. am i or am i not dragging their argument too long like.. let's wrap it up kenma! also i don't like the ending..but i wanted to post SOMETHING so i might change it later. next part is also written.. but AFTER that r a few text msgs :3
✩⡱ taglist !! + @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sherryuki-callmeyuki @anny-bah @ast4rg1rl @sukunasrealgf @dani-shitting-around @whokillednyx @vernon-dursley @limaswife @sugawara-levi @sixxze @ryoiii @literally-a-ferret @444sunarin @llearlert @lloyd4x @usermins @2baddies-1porsche @vernon-dursley @lyzisbitchingagain @h3xi2g0n3 @l0v3do11 lmk if u want to be added (msg or inbox)ヾ(・ω・`;)ノ
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