#this was a bit of a filler chapter but I still had fun with it
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Garden Of Eden (Part Two)
Last Part // Next Part
Summary: Some things were not meant to be touched and to Quinn Y/N was meant to be untouchable.
Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reade
Requested: Nope
Warnings: uses of she/her pronouns, some suggestive language, best friend's brother trope, sneaking around, clunky writing 🫣, edited but not really edited...i think that's it
Notes: eek, it's been a few months since i posted the first part huh? sorry, i did write most of a second part and then i lost it, so most of this is from memory. i also forgot i wrote the first part in third person, so that was fun...er, yeah, this is just a filler chapter of sorts, nothing really exciting happens. anyway, feedback is appreciated!!
"Luke!" Y/N squeals her baking partner's name, coughing through a large cloud of flour as it plumes into the air. She waves her hands, quickly trying to dispel the dust, but only makes it worse, her coughing intensifying as she breathes some of it in. He drops the bowl, quickly coming to her aid, matching her coughs as he wafts the cloud in his direction. "What are you doing?" She asks, spinning to face him.
He tilts his head like a confused puppy. "I'm putting the flour in-" He points to his phone, the instructions displayed on his screenm "-Just like it says."
"Bit by bit," she stresses, reading the part he had evidently missed, "not throw it all in."
"Oh." He hides his face, concealing his laugh in the palm of his hand, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "I guess I missed that part."
"You guess?" She gives him a soft shove, but never catches the giggle that rolls off her lips; the light sound eases some of his worry. "It should be alright, right?" She looks up at him for some reassurance. He shrugs, mumbling something she doesn't catch under his breath. "Here," she pushes the bowl to him, dragging it through spilt flour, creating white powdery streaks across the counter, "mix."
"Me?"
"You're stronger than me." She gives his bicep a poke, a light blush coating his cheeks. "Now fix the mess you made," she mumbles, looking down at the flour decorating her chest. She only makes it worse trying to dust it off, her forehead creasing with a harsh line as she rubs it. "Be back in a second-"
"What?!" Luke's head snaps up in her direction, watching her leave for the door. "Don't leave me with this." He begs her with panic in his eyes.
Y/N stops at the door, her hand touching the frame, a small smile touching her lips, as she turns to look back at him. "It's just brownie batter, Luke," she teases, "what's the worst that could happen?"
"Well, if I suddenly start the end of the world because I mixed this wrong, that's on you!" He calls after her. She laughs, shaking her head at his dramatics.
Quinn emerges from the bathroom, his chest fluttering as he hears the faint sound of Y/N's laugh floating up the stairs. It was light and cheerful, often representing who she was. The first time he heard her laugh, properly laugh, the kind where her smile would meet her eyes and reflect the happiness she felt in that moment, was the moment he had decided to always make her laugh. And though he never considered himself to be the funniest, his plan to make her laugh had worked so far.
The jokes could be cringey, or just down right unfunny, but she would always laugh.
He watches her jog up the stairs, her hand gliding along the railing, before coming to an abrupt stop at the top. She dips her eyes down to the towel wrapped around his waist, before panning up over his chest, looking at the droplets still sitting on his skin. Heat rises up her neck and sits on her cheeks as he begins to smirk.
"Don't say it-"
"Say what?" Quinn cuts her off with a chuckle, dipping to sneak a kiss. He knew he shouldn't but the temptation was too strong to resist. “I was just going to say good morning,” he adds, sneaking another kiss. His eyes flicker down to her t-shirt. "Is that flour?"
She looks down at her chest. "It could be..."
"What else could it be?"
"Drugs," she looks back up at him, "me and Luke were doing hard-core drugs. He wanted to snort it off my boobs."
He laughs. "Fun morning then?"
She presses up onto her tiptoe, closing the distance between them, connecting their lips again with a soft kiss. It tingles and lingers on his mouth, teasing him into wanting more. "Even better now that I've seen you," she replies, her hand drifting out to wipe away a droplet of water still on his chest. The things she would've done to have woken up with her head on his chest. Just the mere thought of it sends warmth to her cheeks.
Two days had passed since Quinn had asked her to trust him and for two days he had been racking his brain of ways they could have their 'first' date. Take her out for dinner? Too basic. Go see a movie? He didn't want to sit in silence for ninety minutes. Every idea he had was met with a thick line slashed through it, and the worry that his brothers would either get suspicious, or be offended that they hadn't gotten an invite.
But her week with them was quickly coming to an end and he had to act quickly.
"Tonight," he blurts out, meeting her raised eyebrows with a lopsided smile. He takes a steady breath, drawing in the smell of coconuts that lingered in her hair. "Let's do something tonight."
She glances over her shoulder, but the flutter of excitement in her chest has a smile breaking out. "Like what?"
Quinn shrugs. "It's a surprise." She sighs his name. "This will be a good surprise," he reassures her, not knowing what the surprise will be. His hand moves to her face, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "One you'll like because none of your exes will be there this time."
Y/N didn't like surprises.
Her surprise eighteenth birthday party had been dampened by her mother deciding to invite her ex-boyfriend, whom she had broken up with two days before. Jack watched her cry for the first thirty minutes, grumbling threats under his breath and passing her tissues to dry her eyes. Quinn stopped anyone from going into the upstairs bathroom, nearly pushing one of her cousins down the stairs. And Luke, as sweet as he's always been to her, tried his best to intimidate her ex with sharp glares and throwing up a finger when no one else was looking.
She declared there and then that she would no longer be a victim to any more surprises.
Her eyes flicker down to his waist, the plush white towel secured tightly, but not tight enough that it wouldn't come away with one single tug. "This is teasing me," she purrs, fingers wiggling at her side, itching to touch him.
"Kinda like those shorts you're currently wearing," he replies, licking his lips and panning his eyes down her legs. His hand moulds to the shape of her hip, connecting them as she climbs the last few steps. "You were wearing these around Luke?"
She bites her lip, trying to stop herself from smiling. "Jealous?"
"Maybe a little," he wasn't ashamed to admit, "Lukey's always had a bit of a schoolboy crush on you." He nuzzles his face into her neck, stumbling them both back against the wall and out of sight. Y/N tips her head back, breath catching in her throat and fighting the urge to whimper as he marks the column of her neck with soft kisses. "He'd hump your leg like some crazed dog in heat if he could," Quinn grumbles into her ear, kissing the soft spot behind it.
"So would you," she giggles.
"Okay," he nods from side to side, a grin creeping onto the corners of his mouth, "but the difference is you'd let me."
She walks her fingers up his chest. "Would I?"
He grabs her hips, pulling her away from the wall, flushing her up against his body. "Are we forgetting what happened the other day?" She wraps her arms around him, whimpering under her breath as he nips at her neck. "You were practically begging me to fuck you."
"A girl has needs," she brushes him off, fisting her fingers through the back of his hair. The wet curls tangle around her digits and she gives them a soft tug, pulling his mouth to align with hers. "And there's only so much that I can do myselfl," she whispers, teasingly licking at his bottom lip.
Quinn releases a low groan, his cock standing at half-mast thinking about Y/N pleasuring herself. He shakes his head but it does nothing to rid him of the thought.
"I think I should be allowed a peek," she looks down at his waist, heat licking up her spine when she spies the slight bulge.
"Ha!" He barks a laugh. "Nice try, cutie."
He takes a step back, resting one hand on the top of his towel and tousles his fingers through his wet hair. His eyes settle on her as he takes a soft breath, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small smile. A slight blush creeps onto the bridge of his nose.
"What?" She asks, trying to read his face.
"I-"
A loud shriek and whizzing sound come from the kitchen, silencing Quinn and gaining both of their attention. Something heavy gets knocked to the floor, hitting the ground with a loud clang, followed up with a series of expletives and more various thuds and bangs.
"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Luke shouts as both she and Quinn approach the kitchen, him hanging back as Y/N steps inside.
Her mouth gapes at the mess. The bag of flour had been knocked off the counter, eggs had been cracked and crushed on the flour, the mixing bowl was nowhere for her to see, and globs of sticky brownie mix were on every surface she could see. And there, standing in the middle of the mess, were her culprits, her best friend doubled over in hysterics and Luke turning redder by the second as frantically tried to stop the batter from flying everywhere.
"Jack, turn it off!" Luke glares at his older brother, bits of brownie batter sticking to his face and hair.
Jack stuffs his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone, snapping pictures of Luke. "This is too good," he laughs, tears already forming from laughing so hard. "I'm sending these to Tiff."
Luke rips the plug from the socket and the whizzing sound stops. "Don't you dare!" He disappears behind the island counter and re-emerges with the mixing bowl, most of the brownie batter now missing, and a electric whisk. "Oh, shit," he swallows a large breath, cheeks turning pink as he spots Y/N.
"Yeah," Y/N nods, crossing her arms over her chest, "shit, indeed."
"It's his fault!" Luke was quick to point the blame at Jack, throwing out his arm and pointing his finger.
Jack shoves his arm. "Fucking liar!"
Luke shoves him back. "It was your idea to use the whisk!"
"But I wasn't the idiot who turned it onto the highest setting, was I?!" Jack fires back, rolling his eyes. He quickly snaps another picture of Luke, giggling as he does, his mouth forming a cheeky grin. "Oi!"
Luke snatches his phone, laughing at Jack as he turns, blocking his attempts to get it back. "What's the matter?" He taunts, circling the island, the sound of egg shells crunching under his feet. "Too slow to keep up?"
"You wish!" Jack wobbles, nearly slipping on some egg yolk. He groans, lifting his foot to inspect the mess of mushed egg yolk and shell sticking to the bottom of his sock. He glares at Luke. "Look what you made me do!"
Walking through flour and stepping over crushed shells, Y/N takes the phone from an unsuspecting Luke, who whimpers as she grabs the phone out of his hand. "There," she mumbles, deleting the photos and handing it back to Jack, "all gone."
Luke smiles and Jack frowns. "You're meant to be on my side," he mutters, pocketing his phone.
Taking another look at the mess, she sighs. "Just...get it all cleaned up." She looks across at Jack, who is laughing at Luke, mumbling some comment about him hoping he has fun cleaning up. "Both of you."
Jack groans. "What?!"
"You heard me," she bites back, spinning to leave, ignoring the bickering that had erupted behind her. Quinn just smiles as she approaches. "Tonight couldn't come quick enough," she whispers, sliding past him, giving him one last look over her shoulders as she hurries up the stairs.
"And where are you going?"
The handle slips out of her hand, her arm dropping to her side. "Great," she mutters under her breath. Should've just gone out of the window.
She turns, finding Luke with his curls all in a mess and dressed only in a pair of shorts, looking like he had just rolled out of bed in search of a late-night snack. A small light shines in from the kitchen, half illuminating him.
A small smile pulls on the corners of her mouth, the gears in her brain working fast to come up with a convincing lie. "For…a walk." She cringes, even she wouldn't have believed her lie.
He lifts his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest. "It's a little late for a walk," he states, leaning against the doorframe, "maybe I should come with you."
"I'm a big girl, Luke," she replies, playing with her sleeve. Her phone buzzes in her back pocket but she ignores it. "There's nothing too big or too scary that I can't handle." Her phone buzzes again. "Let's remember which one of us hid behind a cushion the first time we watched Scream."
He stares back at her, showing no signs of amusement. "Not going to get that?" He peels one arm away from the other and points to her.
She shakes her head. “No.”
"No?" He unfolds his other arm, slipping both his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "Could be urgent."
"It's not." She pulls her phone out with a sigh. All she sees is a black screen as she pretends to check it. Her eyes flicker up at Luke and then back down at the blank screen, trying to sell it. "Nope, not urgent," she mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, and tucking her phone under her arm, "why are you trying to change the subject?"
Pushing away, he takes long strides, stopping to stand in front of her. She meets his eyes as he scans her face, searching for the truth in her deception. "Why are you acting so suspicious?"
She tilts her head to the right, eyes narrowed and never breaking contact with his. "Do you always answer a question with another question?"
He straightens up, but the extra height doesn't intimidate her. She still remembers the kid who would cry if he wasn't allowed to join in on her and Jack's sleepovers. "Why? Does it annoy you?" She rolls her eyes. "Come on," he whines, throwing his hands into the air for dramatics, "we don't keep secrets from each other."
"We don't?" Luke shakes his head. "Oh really?" Again, he shakes his head. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. "Then why did I have to hear that you slept with Tiff?" Tiffany, Tiff for short, was her closest friend. After Jack, of course.
His face grows white. "Jack told you?"
"Yes, he told me!" She unfurls her arm to swat the back of her hand against his chest. He sighs, rubbing the spot. "Why are you ghosting her?" His eyes drop to the ground. "Luke?!" He doesn't budge. "Fine, I'll just go ask Jack; I'm sure you probably told him."
"And I'll tell Jack about you and Quinn," he blurts out the threat, the corners of his mouth pulled upwards into a smug grin.
Her eyes grow wide, a lump the size of Michigan lodged in her throat preventing her from speaking. She swallows it down but has nothing to say. No quickly thought-up lie to lead him off the trail.
"Yeah," he mumbles, "I see everything." She opens her mouth but still nothing comes out. "Jack might be blind to what's going on, but I'm not. I see you both, with your little lovey-dovey stares and sitting too close to each other during movie nights." He motions it all with his fingers. "Not to mention, Quinn was acting all weird when we got back the other day. I'd say you two were up to no good."
"Up to no good?" She says, laughing. "What are you? A fifty year old man?"
He rolls his eyes, laughing with her before falling serious again. "Look, I don't care. If you and Quinn are together then I'm cool with that, but just don't keep it from Jack." She lowers her eyes. "You know he'll only get pissed that you kept it from him," Luke adds, "like that one time you secretly went on a date with that one guy from you math class-"
Her eyes snap back up to him. "How do you know about that?"
"Did you not just hear me?" He throws his hands up with a smile and a dramatic flourish. "I know everything, Y/N. Everything."
"Everything?"
Luke nods. "I'm like a Marauder's Map."
"I'm pretty sure that only knew the location of people," she tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowed up at him, "Not their secrets."
He softly flicks the centre of her forehead, chuckling as she bats his hand away like a cat to a fly. "Okay, nerd."
She rubs her forehead. "Can I go now?" He takes a step back, pocketing his hands. Giving him a small smile, she tucks her phone into her pocket, before mouthing thank you as she turns to leave.
NHL Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @chilwellspulisic @lovelynikol16 @love4lando
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes fanfic#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes x y/n#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl fic
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A Rugged Muse | Chapter 4
pairing: eventual daryl dixon x f!reader
wc: 3.8k
warnings: SMALL TIMESKIP (it’s like a few weeks), reader has feelings, daryls short tempered, i love lori idc, lots of filler plot till we can get to the juicy stuff 😇
summary: going out with daryl.
A/N: sorry this chapter took so long and ended bad. cant even promise a better next chapter. but i at least hope you arent bored :/
a rugged muse masterlist | regular masterlist
The faint sound of crickets filled your ears as you stared out at the dark mass of water in front of you. You had taken solace in the lake behind the camp, finding yourself here late at night when you couldn’t sleep.
Glenn worried about you when you did this. Though there weren’t any walkers in the area he still didn’t trust leaving you alone in the forest at night, then again he didn’t like leaving you alone anywhere. You were so happy to have your older brother back, but not happy that he was nagging you so much. You may be a grown woman but he still saw you as his baby sister.
A rustle from behind you startled you, your body turned quickly and reached for the dagger by your side. You relaxed and turned back to the lake at the sight of Daryl. You heard his soft sigh as he stepped out from behind the bush and moved over to where you sat on a huge rock. His crossbow was placed next to you as a sort of partition while he sat next to you.
You leaned back on your hands, turning your head to look at him again. His eyes were set dead ahead while his arms rested atop his knees. It became a thing where you two would follow each other around but not say anything, just keeping the other company. At least that’s what it felt like.
You liked it to be completely honest, it was nice having someone else who kept you at ease instead of just Glenn. Even though Daryl didn’t say much, he still made an effort… of something.
“Did Glenn send you out to watch out for me?” You snorted, watching his eyes flicker as if coming to. He grunted in response, lifting his thumb to his mouth. You sighed, turning back to the lake. He still wasn’t much of a conversational person. The silence was comforting nevertheless and you couldn’t help but look at him from your peripheral.
You’d been noticing Daryl a lot more recently. You’ve pretty much established the fact that he was attractive to you, even if he didn’t speak much. He seemed to care about you at least a little bit seeing as how he’s been pretty much following you around camp. You at least considered him a friend, and hoped he thought the same of you.
You were starting to get tired so you stood up and stretched, yawning a little. Daryl’s head tilted upwards to look at you and started to get up as well.
“Tired?” He mumbled to which you nodded and grabbed your dagger.
“Yeah, I’m gonna head in. Should get some sleep and make sure Glenn isn’t stressing his ass off.” You chuckled and swore there was a smirk on his face at your comment. He bent down to grab his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder before turning to you.
“I’ll walk ya back, wouldn’ wan’ ya gettin’ bit.” Daryl tapped your shoulder gently before walking ahead and into the forest. You followed quickly after him, watching your step and making sure to be quiet so you didn’t awaken anyone, or anything.
You noticed he huffed a little when he walked and he grabbed the strap of his crossbow to keep it secure. His muscles flexed a little when he did this and the artist in you tried to keep that in your mind to draw later, after all your art block had lifted. As creepy as it sounded, Daryl was one of your most drawn subjects right now. You couldn’t help it, he was just such a fun thing to draw.
Your face hit his back and he looked over his shoulder at you, stifling a snort.
“Ya good? We’re ‘ere,” he stepped out of the way and watched you as you bowed your head in embarrassment. You hoped he didn’t just see you gawking at his arms.
“Thanks,” you mumbled and walked in front of him to get to your tent. You felt a hand touch your elbow and looked back to see him pull away.
“Ya wanna go huntin’ tomorrow? If ya got nothin’ ta do I dun’ mind teachin’ ya.” Daryl shrugged as he fiddled with the strap of his crossbow, his eyes darting around anxiously.
Your heart fluttered a little. You had told him a couple days ago about how much you wanted to go hunting and “do something useful.” He remembered.
“Yeah,” you nodded and smiled softly. He squinted at you and nibbled the inside of his bottom lip, shifting his stance side to side. “Yeah sure, you want me to meet you?”
“Mm,” he shook his head and started to turn away. “I’ll come getcha,” he waved his hand dismissively, not giving you a moment to respond.
The moonlight shone down on him through the trees as he stalked off. Your eyes were drawn to his back, his muscles rippled as he walked. Those broad shoulders always caught your eye. It was admirable how quiet he was, you could barely hear his feet hit the ground when he walked. You caught yourself staring at him again, sighing deeply as the older man disappeared into the night. You placed a hand on your chest in an attempt to slow down your heart rate which was racing for some reason.
You had just known Daryl for just a few weeks yet your heart raced every time you saw him. You didn’t want to think much about it though, at one point you just assumed he didn’t like you. You honestly didn’t care much either way, the friendship was nice… if you could classify what ever your relationship was as a friendship.
Shaking your head, you turned to your shared tent with Glenn, opening the flap as quiet as you could before slipping in. Glenn was laying on his side, curled up in his sleeping bag. You tried not to disturb him as you moved over to your side of the tent and slowly moved into your sleeping bag.
“What’s going on with you and Daryl?” Glenn mumbled sleepily and you jumped a little. You sighed as you lay on your back and stared up at the ceiling.
“Nothing is going on,” you murmured but it kind of sounded like a question. “Really, nothing.”
Glenn shifted in his spot as he let out a huff and faced you, his eyes were closed but you could tell he was awake and wanted to keep the conversation going.
“You two are going out?” The way he worded the question felt like he was asking if you two were going out. That’s what you assumed at least.
Your breath got caught in your throat and you coughed, shaking your head. “What? No… no I barely know him.”
“Not what I meant,” he shook his head, “tomorrow?” You froze as you caught your misinterpretation, biting your lip.
“I…” you mumbled, rolling over to face him. He looked back at you sleepily and tucked an arm under his head, waiting for your response. “Yeah, we’re going hunting.”
Glenn snorted, rubbing his eyes while you glared at him for laughing. “Oh god, you like him.” He tried to hide his grin from you, catching the pillow you threw at him.
“I do not,” you hissed quietly. “I barely know the guy, plus it hasn’t been long since…” You choked on your own words, thinking about your god damn ex again. Sure it’s been seven months, but no matter what, you couldn’t get over him. Glenn noticed and sat up, sighing as he gently threw your pillow back.
“You still hung over that guy?” He flinched a little when your head snapped over to him, your eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Okay, okay… but c’mon (Y/N). He was an asshole, and I’m not saying I fully support this thing going on between you and Daryl but hey, if it seems like something you’re willing to go for then do it.” You closed your eyes at his words, grabbing your blanket and pulling it over your head. Your older brother sighed, rustling around as he got back into his sleeping bag, “just think about it.”
You mentally eye rolled, there was no way. You couldn’t like Daryl, he was older… more brash and a little bit aggressive. It’d be an odd couple the two of you. Still, a part of you yearned. What for? You didn’t know, it wasn’t important. Whether you yearned for the warm feeling of being loved or him. You kicked your feet frustratingly, earning a scold from Glenn. You hated this feeling, you didn’t want to trust it. Not after what happened before, not after that warm feeling was quickly taken away from you. You couldn’t even imagine losing someone you loved now, in the apocalypse. The thought made you shiver.
You don’t think you could ever love again, especially with the current circumstances. It’d be nice… but not now. You shook your head in a lousy attempt to clear your thoughts, turning over to try and get some shut eye. You sort of dreaded tomorrow.
The sound of tarp rustling woke you up, immediately sitting up to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Glenn turned to you apologetically, “sorry to wake you. I’m gonna head out soon.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion, “huh? You're leaving?” Your older brother nodded with a soft sigh, shrugging as he packed his bag.
“We’re running out of things, the others need me. I’m the only one who knows my way around Atlanta,” your eyes widened. Atlanta was completely infested with those walkers, your thoughts from last night rushing back to you. If something happened to him…
“What if you get hurt?” You frowned, tossing your blanket off to the side as you crawled over to him. He sighed deeply as you continued, “can't you just draw them a map?”
“No,” he shook his head, continuing to pack the things he needed. “It’s best if I go out there with them, safer for them. Safer for me, for us.” He looked at you and frowned at your expression of concern.
“If you die I’ll kill you,” you muttered unpleasantly. Glenn cracked a smile, nudging your shoulder as he shook with silent laughter.
“Sure thing, you have fun on your little date.” You groaned, pushing his head. Glenn toppled over, his body shaking with laughter as he quickly recovered from the fall. “I’ll be back soon, don’t have too much fun.”
Glenn quickly gave you a pat on the head and dashed out of the tent before you even had the chance to push him again. You let out a soft sigh, reaching up to ruffle your hair before crawling around the tent to grab your things and be ready by the time Daryl got there.
You felt a little excited for your little outing with the older man, unsure if it was for the hunting or the man himself, nevertheless you quickly got ready. Putting on some comfortable clothes, you grabbed your daggers and attached them at your thigh, you doubted you would be using them for hunting but you wanted to bring them anyway. A low grunt from outside signaled that Daryl had arrived, his voice confirming your suspicions.
“(Y/N)?” His voice was soft in contrary to his usual tone. You slung your bag over your shoulder and stuck your head out of the tent, seeing the archer standing by a tree. You shot him a small smile before getting out and walking over to him. He eyed you up and down innocently, shrugging before leading the way. “Saw a few rabbits down ‘ere.”
You followed after him like a lost puppy, trying to mimic his skillful step through the forest. He looked over his shoulder at you and scoffed a little, shaking his head. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a half-smushed pack of cigarettes, grabbing one before offering one to you.
“No thanks,” you shook your head, “I quit.” Daryl nodded respectively and shoved the pack back into his pocket before grabbing a lighter and lighting his.
His lips wrapped around the end, taking a deep drag before blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth. The smell of tobacco occupied the area around you two. He glanced at you from his peripheral, taking another drag before asking,
“Any reason ya quit?” He coughed, “if ya wanna share… ‘m jus’ wonderin’.” You chuckled softly at his flustered tone of voice, you wondered if he was always this nervous.
“Ah just…” you shook your head as you looked up at him. The truth was, you used to smoke a lot with your ex, even more so after the breakup. You would've taken Daryl’s offer but decided against it. “…wanted to break habits,” you shrugged and looked ahead again.
Daryl nodded and continued to walk in silence, not wanting to push the matter further. Seeing the forest so clear was odd, before you wouldn’t have questioned it but it felt so weird to not hear or see a walker every five minutes. The two of you continued to walk in peaceful silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the tranquil forest. Your companion soon pointed to what you assumed was tracks, though they looked like a rock fell very strategically… Daryl let out a soft grunt as he dropped the butt of his cigarette onto the ground, stuffing it out with his heel.
Daryl’s crossbow slid off his shoulder and into his hands, beckoning you closer. You moved next to him, brushing your shoulder against his. He glanced down at you, gently maneuvering the crossbow into your hands. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him in confusion, his rough hands brushing against your skin as he guided your hands onto the crossbow.
“You ever use one of these?” He grunted, a hint of amusement dwelling in his tone. His eyes flashed with hilarity when you shook your head frantically. He gave you a light pat on the back and walked ahead, assuming you’d follow. “You’ll be fine, I’ll help ya out.”
You helplessly followed after him, the weight of the crossbow already straining your arms. No wonder Daryl’s arms were so nice, he had to carry this hunk of material every day. You stopped in your tracks as soon as his palm was held up towards you, his fingers curling up to hold one finger up, signaling you to be quiet. He swiftly moved behind a bush and you quickly followed, crouching down next to him.
Daryl pointed outwards to a small clearing where a rabbit was nibbling on some grass, you nodded and lifted to crossbow to aim towards the rabbit. You heard a snort from him, feeling a hand tap your own to lower it. You turned to him and furrowed your brows, he shook his head before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing both his hands over yours. You swallowed nervously as he guided you to properly aim at the rabbit.
“Now press the trigger,” his breath was warm against your neck, making you flinch slightly and pull the trigger. Unfortunately you did not hit the rabbit and ended up scaring it off, Daryl immediately got up and huffed in annoyance. You sighed, feeling your heart beat faster. He was just so close to you, screwing you over in the process. Daryl stood with his hands on his hips, biting the inside of his cheek to not blow up at you. Admittedly, it was your fault you missed the shot.
You stood up cautiously and handed him the crossbow with a guilty expression, “sorry.” Daryl took one look at you and huffed before snatching the crossbow back. He wasn’t about to scream at you, but he didn’t respond anyway. You didn’t say anything else as he started walking, and you followed after quietly.
Daryl held his head up, though his eyes were scanning the ground for the rabbit’s tracks. You just followed him mindlessly through the forest even though you were so sure he’d shoot you dead right here and now. His patience was running thin though, you two had walked towards where the rabbit should be, but didn’t find it. His fingers tapped against the material of his crossbow, clearly trying to keep himself from losing his shit.
Soon you met the end of the rabbits tracks, they simply disappeared. Daryl let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face with one hand as he grumbled something under his breath. A rush of guilt flooded through you, after all it was sort of your fault for missing the shot. Now there was no dinner, but hopefully the supply run group would come back with food…
“I’m really sorry Daryl,” you mumbled timidly. You didn’t want to piss him off but your shyness quite literally did. He hissed under his breath, turning to you.
“If only ya didn’ miss the damn shot, could’ve had food by now.” Your stomach dropped as he walked by you, bumping his shoulder into yours. You felt that was a bit unfair, it’s not like you missed on purpose.
You looked over your shoulder to find Daryl bitterly stomping his way back to camp. He may be attractive but he really did irritate you sometimes. His head turned once he heard you angrily walk over to him, passing him with your own shoulder bump.
“The fuck’s yer problem?” He growled before catching up to you. Your eyes rolled as you avoided his gaze, shaking your head.
“What’s yours? I didn’t even do anything bad,” you grumbled annoyed. “I apologized twice already.”
“Yeah well an apology ain’ gon’ do shit fer us if we don’ even have food ta eat.” You rolled your eyes again, not wanting to deal with his bullshit right now. “Wasn’ even tha’ hard of a shot.” Your blood boiled at his remark. It wasn’t even the difficulty of the shot that made you miss, it was the fact that he was breathing up on you.
You whipped around to face him, narrowing your eyes. “If you weren’t so close and breathing down my neck, I would’ve made the shot. I just got spooked.”
“Tha’ shit ain’ gon’ fly in this apocalypse. Ya gotta deal with gettin’ spooked or else yer gonna die from a damned walker,” he drawled lowly. “Surprised ya hadn’t already.”
You were done. Choosing to ignore him, you pushed through the forest and sped walked your way back to camp, ignoring his protests.
The remaining members of the group noticed your tense expression, most raised a brow while others chose to keep silent. Daryl had quite the temper and frankly? You weren't about to deal with an angry Dixon right now.
Said Dixon emerged from the forest shortly after, his brows furrowed together in irritation. His head whipped around the area, looking to Shane.
“Ya know where Merle is?” He let out a grunt as Shane sighed deeply, knowing Daryl wouldn't like his answer.
“He’s out on the supply run with the others,” you watches as Daryl rubbed his face, rolling his eyes in the process before storming back off into the woods. Shane looked over at you with silent acknowledgment to your assumed argument with the brazen man before Lori stepped in and placed a hand on your shoulder reassuringly.
You sighed softly as you let her lead you through the trees and towards the lake where the other remaining women were, folding laundry. Lori sat you down and gave you a gentle smile before calling out to Carl, telling him to stay close.
“So what happened?” Lori chuckled softly, though concern could be heard in her voice. You shook your head and lifted a hand to rub your eye.
“He’s just got a loose screw or something.” The rage in you was sweltering, but you found it in you to keep calm. “I missed a shot with his crossbow, and he blamed me for ‘losing dinner’.” Lori laughed at your finger quotes, shaking her head.
“I would say that’s just a Dixon thing… but trust me, it’s all men.” She chuckled lightly, “my husband is like that sometimes. Not as extreme as Daryl but y’know, he had his moments.”
You tilted your head slightly as you looked over at her, “I didn’t know you and Shane were married.” It wasn’t completely secret that the two were fooling around but you didn’t think they were married. Though you immediately realized your mistake.
Lori stared at you with wide eyes, glancing over your shoulder to see if Carl had heard before shaking her head. “No, no… Shane and I aren’t married. I mean Rick… he’s uh..” she cleared her throat and you got the hint.
“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to assume—” She cut you off with a gentle shake of her head, looking out to the lake awkwardly. Your assumption was quite dumb anyway, Lori and Shane wouldn’t be so secretive about their relationship if they were married…
You looked down at your lap and sighed gently, the silence was making you think again. Especially about that dumbass… Daryl. How arrogant of him to blame you for missing that shot when really, it was his fault for jumping you. And the fact he got so heated over it? Absolutely infuriating.
Lori tapped your knee gently and your head snapped up to meet her gaze. She nodded behind you and when you turned, the man you were just fuming over was standing there. Daryl was still tense but you could tell he felt guilty, or at least sorry for blowing up. He didn’t have to say anything before you got up and followed him back into the forest, the silence deafening.
“Look…” Daryl started slowly, halting in place and turning to look at you. “’m sorry fer yellin’ at you, but ya gotta admit tha’ was a shit shot comin’ from you.” All feeling of relief was taken from you at that moment, rolling your eyes as annoyance flooded through you.
You turned away from him but he caught your arm, turning you back to face him. He took a deep breath before glancing down at your legs, pointing to your daggers.
“Ya know how ta use those?” You narrowed your eyes at his question before responding in confusion.
“Yeah…? You just stab… whatever it is… you’re trying to, I don’t know, kill??” You shook your head and looked at him as if he just asked a really obvious question, which he did.
“No—” He groaned, placing his hand over his eyes as if trying to ground himself. “No, like. Can ya throw ‘em?”
Good point, you didn’t.
He took your silence and awkward expression as your answer and started to walk again, waving you to follow. This back and forth walking was really taking it out of you.
“’kay, then ‘m gonna teach ya because I do not trust you with my baby.” You snorted softly as he referred to his crossbow as “his baby.” You found it slightly endearing.
You just hoped this lesson would go well this time because you did not want to deal with a frustrated Dixon twice in one day.
taglist (comment on masterlist to be added!) @arson1893 @ryoujoking @abi67sblog @sm4-rty @skunk-dude @dontsassmecastiel @scudslut @xmaeyonaiise @welcumetomyescape @duckybird101
#divider by cafekitsune#mrdixonposts#a rugged muse series#daryl dixon#the walking dead#daryl x reader#norman reedus#twd daryl#daryl x y/n#twd fanfiction
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btw, if anyone is curious.
i used to be one of the skeptics, i have made it pretty clear, i used to be one of those people who scoffed at the one piece fandom saying "there is no way a story can take 1000 chapters to be told". and i believed it!
i was convinced it had to be a zombie simpsons situation, i was convinced it had to be like supernatural or one of those mexican telenovelas with 40 seasons where after a while they just keep rehashing the same plots over and over and the characters have gone beyond flanderization and straight into empty husks of themselves, i was convinced it had to be meaningless meandering pointless filler and chapter after chapter of nothing happening, i was convinced it had to be a homestuck act 6 situation, pure nonesense worthy of henry darger.
and who knows! there are still 400 chapters left but at 700 chapters in i gotta say, it's staying remarkably focused, relatively speaking. yeah there are a couple of arcs here and there where they will spend 20 chapter fighting some villain you dont care about, there is SOME meandering here and there and many characters do take a bit of a backseat as it goes along but... there is a clear sense of progression, we are not trapped in a house of endless mirrors here, we are not spinning our wheels going nowhere. the plot advances, both in the micro and the macro, the scope of the world has been well established, the worldbuilding has remained consistent, is not like oda is revealing new previously unkown bullshit without any way it could fit in what was already told. there is lore that is being consistently revealed and it makes sense, there is a clear objective and the heroes ARE getting closer to it, everything that is introduced does become relevant one way or another eventually and it is used to build up toward new things. oda doesnt seem to run out of interesting ideas to explore and in fact the ones that were already presented have not been fully milked of all its juices yet
this is not dragon ball, where power levels and escalation keeps getting more absurd as time goes on to the point nothing matters anymore. this is not doctor who where the world has to be soft rebooted every five years just to keep the illusion of freshness, this is not marvel or dc where continuity is whatever and character arcs dont matter and there is a sliding time scale.
this is a story with a well defined middle beggining and end, this is a long journey and we are damn well see every stone and branch and blade of grass across the way and it will alway be an interesting stone or a cool branch or a really fun blade of grass but every foot we plant on the ground is decidedly in front of the previous foot.
#one piece#now watch as i get an egg on my face when this story goes to shit in the next 400 chapters
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Near Zero part 4.
PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader
SUMMARY: 2k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.
RATING: E; mentions of smut, infidelity, drinking, period-typical sexism
A/N: Although based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character, and does not intend to be accurate. This is merely for entertainment. Once again, I owe @indulgence-be-thy-name my life. My brain just isn't co-operative at the best of times and she's the best. This is a bit of a filler chapter but I hope you like it anyway! 🖤
masterlist
“Kitty would like you to come for dinner.”
You glance up from your paper, brows hiking as he leans over you, his voice soft. You recall his seminars at that same volume. He never gave the same lecture twice, so more fool anyone that didn’t understand the concepts Oppie spoke of.
Your lips part. “Oh.”
You’ve never spoken to Kitty Oppenheimer. You saw her as recently as yesterday when you walked to get milk from the store in the center of town. She was in the street, laughing with one of the wives of a fellow physicist. You didn’t know she knew who you were.
“We’re having a group over tomorrow night,” he adds. “We’ll have an awful lot of fun.”
Someone calls for him and you use the moment to gather your thoughts, to think of an excuse. As he returns to your side, you whisper:
“Robert.”
You began to call him by his first name a week ago, after you slept together for the first time. You were way past calling him ‘Dr. Oppenheimer’, and you called him ‘Oppie’ now in front of others. If anyone noticed, they haven’t let on, and if they were to ask why the change, you’re sure you’d tell a half-truth – you were closer to him now than your days at Berkeley. You were on equal footing, in a way. You did not, however, moan ‘Oppie’ when he pleasured you with either hands, cock, or tongue.
“She doesn’t know,” he whispers back, as if reading your mind.
The look he gives you, along with the accompanying pat on your shoulder, tells you he doesn’t believe you’re walking into trap. You nod, and you part ways once more.
-
You’ve slept with him a few times since the first night. All within the T building, all under the cover of darkness. You wish you could sneak him into your house but it would be noticed. He already walked you home more than once in full view of the street.
A guard or two would know you and Robert leave together occasionally, but that isn’t unusual. He is often with other people because of the nature of his position.
You haven’t behaved any differently, thus raising suspicions. You don’t feel any guilt. Perhaps that part of you doesn’t exist, at least not when it concerns him. It would be more of a headache that a morality issue if Kitty were to confront you about it; from what you’ve heard, she’s a nightmare to deal with when she makes something or someone her mission.
-
You arrive the next evening at the Oppenheimer residence, flashing your pass at the guards at the picket fence. You’re let through with a curt nod, feeling your nerves intensify when you hear the laughter coming from within the house.
You’re late, having delayed getting ready. You decided to dress well, but not ostentatiously. You wear your best dress, having not worn it since arriving in Los Alamos. You notice a mark on your shoe as you walk towards the front door, pausing to buff it away with your free hand. Your other arm carries a cake tin your mother gifted you – and until tonight, you never had a use for it.
You knock on the front door and wait a minute before it opens, revealing Robert, sans porkpie hat. He smiles slowly, blue eyes sparkling with outright delight.
“Hello,” he murmurs, and kisses you on the lips, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Hi,” you whisper, and glance over his shoulder.
You’re aware of his eyes still on you, taking you in. Standing there on his front doorstep, you know it’s perhaps the only time you’ll have alone with him all evening.
“I’m very happy to see you, darling,” he says.
“Is it her?” someone calls, and you recognize it as Kitty, your heart leaping.
Robert leads you in, shutting the door behind you. Kitty appears, eyes widening, her cigarette in her mouth. She takes it out, exhaling as she comes toward you. She stares at the cake tin, coming in to kiss you as Europeans do, one-two, her hands on your shoulders.
“You’re adorable, you brought cake!”
“I thought chocolate would be a safe choice,” you murmur, feeling your cheeks flush.
She plucks the cake from you and spins around, forcing you to follow her down the hall with Robert behind you. He reaches out and squeezes the tip of your fingers before letting go, your stomach flipping.
“We’re in the den…”
You walk in to see a group of five other couples. All the men you know, but the wives are part of Kitty’s club that meet for drinks almost daily. Kitty announces you with a flourish of her manicured hand, and you raise a hand to wave an awkward hello to the several pairs of eyes set upon you.
You shake hands, kiss some cheeks and then are ushered by Kitty into the kitchen where she sets the cake on a plate, examining it.
“Dessert done. Good for us,” she says, and she glances over to Robert whose back is to you both. “Where are those martinis, dear?”
“Almost done,” he replies. “Very, very soon.”
“Hmm. Not nearly soon enough,” Kitty says. She gives you a playful wink.
Robert turns, two martinis in hand, giving one to his wife. She takes a sip, licking her lips.
“Thank God.”
He hands you the other, and you follow suit, eyes meeting his when the alcohol reaches your tongue. There must be a whisper of vermouth.
“He will get you drunk,” Kitty says, and she takes off again, expecting you to follow her.
You sit on either side of two scientists from the experimental physicists, your ankles together as you nurse your drink. Kitty talks the most and possibly drinks the most, Robert plying everyone with as much alcohol as possible as the night goes on. Dinner is served haphazardly by Kitty, but she’s not a sloppy drinker. She’s surprisingly sharp, and a great cook from what you can discern. A beef ragu helps slow the alcohol, at least for a time, before the crowd gets rowdier.
Robert doesn’t raise his voice, ever. He drinks steadily, thoroughly, throughout the night, but doesn’t guzzle it down. He barely eats. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him eat a full meal in all the years you’ve known him. He chain smokes, lighting his guests’ cigarettes whenever able.
At one point, little Peter Oppenheimer begins to cry from his bedroom and Kitty groans, rising from her chair.
“Better deal with the little devil,” she says, slipping out.
Curiosity gets the better of you and you follow her out. You blame the martinis, and the fact that you’ve never seen Robert’s child up-close. Kitty gives you a little smile and rolls her eyes, leaving the door to the nursery partly shut as she goes to the crib.
Peter is sat up, howling, and you watch as he’s lifted out, Kitty’s hand patting his back as she shushes him. You sip on your drink, just as Kitty asks:
“So why don’t you have a husband?”
You choke, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, you’re very attractive. And obviously you’re brilliant if Robert wanted you for the making of the gadget…”
Peter distracts her with another cry into her shoulder and she begins to rock him, humming. It takes another couple minutes for him to fall silent, and only then can you make out his face properly. He resembles Robert, his hair a mass of dark curls. His tear-streaked cheeks are round and rosy in the half-light, his eyelashes long against them as he snuffles. When his mouth closes, you see his perfect Cupid’s bow and dimpled chin.
“He’s beautiful,” you murmur, and Kitty nods absently.
“He gives me a headache,” she whispers. “But he’s asleep now.”
She places him down again and takes you by the elbow, whispering:
“Let’s get out of here before he starts up again.”
Kitty doesn’t seem the maternal type, but neither are you. What makes it sad to you is the lack of pride she seems to exhibit. There’s no space for Peter tonight, no swapping of stories about children. You return to the den and sink back into your chair, eyes meeting Robert’s across the way. He’s nodding politely along to a story, cigarette dangling.
“We were discussing our female genius’s lack of spouse,” Kitty announces, a little louder than you’d like.
Your face flushes and everyone turns their attention to her and then you, your drink by your lips again as if to shield yourself.
“Do we require a bachelor?” one of the wives says, leaning forward, resting her chin in her hand.
Kitty nods, sitting down. Her drink was refilled while you were with Peter. She takes a gulp.
“There’s Nielsen.”
“He’s that chemist?” another wife says. “How is his English?”
“He’s an Oakie,” one of the men chuckles. “And a bore.”
“Well, what would you suggest, Jerry?” Kitty throws back. “We’re all ears-”
“Actually, I don’t want one,” you blurt.
Everyone looks at you, including Robert, who takes out his cigarette and exhales. Elizabeth, the brunette whose husband is to your right, leans over to speak.
“You don’t want a date?”
“She means she doesn’t want a husband,” Kitty says, and she smirks, taking a drink.
You swallow, sure that it’s the alcohol loosening your tongue. “Yes. I mean, I don’t want a husband.”
“Is it… you don’t like men?” Elizabeth asks.
Your face is on fire. “I like men. I like… I like work.”
“You’ll change your mind,” another male visitor says, and you see Robert get up in your peripheral vision. “When the war is over.”
“Maybe,” you lie.
If you sound too certain, you’ll seem even stranger to these people than you already do. You’re the only one that came alone, and you’re possibly the youngest by several years, too. That could be your advantage; it might be dismissed as youthful naivete. You can’t let on that you decided as a little girl that marriage had no appeal.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to marry a scientist,” Robert says, taking your glass from you.
“A football player?” someone suggests, and there’s an eruption of laughter.
After the subject changes, there’s a shift in the atmosphere. You feel less self-conscious. Perhaps you’re tipsy, but it’s more likely the probing into your personal life in front of strangers that left you feeling less tense. It seems the worst of it is over by the time Robert returns to you with a new drink.
He takes the seat beside you, the cake having been served with some ice cream Kitty prepared earlier. Wives and husbands mingle as you feel a companionable silence settle between you and the director.
You light his cigarette for once, sharing the flame before you snap your lighter shut, inhaling.
“Did you meet Peter?” he murmurs, after a few minutes.
“Yes,” you reply, and you exchange a proper look. His head tilts towards you ever so slightly.
“He’s very strong. Quite the grip on him.”
“He’s very handsome,” you reply, exhaling with a small smile. “And you have a lovely home.”
Although it’s what the government built for him, and there’s less personality here than there would be in his ranch or his real home, it feels good to be there, in whatever sense.
Or maybe you’re drunk. Either way, you’re glad you came.
-
Kitty promises to see you again soon. One of the other couples offer to walk you home and you oblige. For the first time that night, you long for things to be different, that Robert was walking you back. You would hold his hand, lift his knuckles to your lips to kiss them.
You are very, very drunk, you realize, as you shut your front door behind you. You lean against it, sighing.
The next morning, hungover and searching for a reason to ever consider drinking again, you open your door and nearly trip over the cake tin left there overnight. You stoop to pick it up, hearing something inside it.
You turn back, opening it to peer inside. Some crumbs from last night surround a small envelope you lift from the tin, moving back inside to tear it open.
Darling,
You were wonderful last night. Nevertheless, we need to get away.
Come with me to Santa Fe.
X
Thank you again for reading! Let me know if you're liking this so far. I have no idea how long I intend to make this story but any feedback will help me gauge how interested you are for more. Likes and reblogs are therefore encouraged! 🖤
#oppenheimer x y/n#j robert oppenheimer#oppenheimer x reader#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy fanfiction#near zero#fem reader
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Here's the link for the whole series on Ao3 if you prefer to read it there :)
Weird Science | Chapter II
Egon Spengler x Reader
[Notes; This is a shorter chapter and is kind of a filler I guess, but I promise there's more the next one. There is no summary for this.
[Warnings; Some foul language and that's about it.
Part 2/? | <Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷
Ring, Ring, Ring, Ri-!
You run from the other room to get the telephone, nearly tripping over some of the boxes scattered throughout your apartment. You answer the phone, picking it up and holding it to your ear.
"Hello?"
"Y/n! Hey its Ray. I was calling to see if you wanted to swing by our research area sometime this week? Me and the guys have been working on something but hit a bit of a roadblock and need help getting it fixed or changed up soon," Rays voice rings out excitingly through the phone.
"Hey Ray! Sure I can, but it'll probably have to be either tomorrow or Friday, I'm kinda stuck moving some of the boxes out to my apartment right now,"
"That's fine, Y/n. Also, how do you feel about getting some drinks with me and the guys this weekend? I figure I can reintroduce you to Peter and Egon again. I think it'd be fun if you aren't too busy," Ray suggests.
"Great! I wouldn't mind going with you guys, I think it'd be nice especially with all this that's goin' on right now too," You say, twisting the telephone cord in between your fingers.
"Great! How about you come on over Friday and after we finish up we can all go down to a bar for the night. The work shouldn't take too long."
"Yeah that works, I'll see you Friday then. Bye now,"
"Bye Y/n, see you Friday." Ray says, then hanging up the phone.
You place the phone back into its holder, then walking through the stacks of boxes to get back to organizing them.
I forgot just how much fun it was to talk to friends, why did I ever loose touch with all of them? Especially Ray.
You pick up a box labeled Motherboards and Breadboards, scribbled out in messily neat handwriting, picking it up and placing it on top of the boxes labeled Wires.
You had only been moving your stuff out for two days now, so regardless of the amount of shit you had in your apartment currently, you still weren't done and there was unfortunately plenty left in what used to be your lab.
You go to turn on your radio, tuning it to a radio station that played some of your favourite stuff and luckily managed to catch it just as a song was about to play.
-bzzt!- "...You're listening to 97.5 FM, the top radio station where you can get all of the newest -bzzt!- hits! Here's Everything She Wants from Wham's new album 'Make It Big'!" -bzzt!-
You make a mental note to remember that you need to buy another radio, as the speakers on yours were starting to give out.
"Somebody told me, "Boy, everything she wants, is everything she sees" I guess I must have loved you, because I said you were the perfect girl for me, baby,"
You danced as you organized more of your boxes. "Where on earth am I going to put all of these?" You said to yourself, putting your hands on your hips.
"Somebody tell me, o-" -pop!- -fzzt!- Your radio began to pop and spark, and it finally gave out with some mild vapor coming out of it.
"Shit! No, don't give out on me." You sigh, unplugging the radio from the port and trying to fan away the smoke.
'As if my week couldn't get any worse right now. I'm starting to look forward to Friday more and more.' You think to yourself.
You run your fingers through your hair, deciding to take a nap so you could try to calm yourself down.
---------------------------------------
You wake up, stretching and letting out a groan. You look at your bedside clock. 7:47 PM, the clock read.
You get up and head into your kitchen to make dinner. You grab a pot, a can of tomato soup, some bread, and a couple slices of cheese.
Grilled cheese and tomato soup couldn't really be considered the best dinner but its what you had. that's another thing you needed to add to your list. New radio, more groceries.
You add the can of tomato soup and a can of water into the pot and turn the heat on. You get four slices of bread and four slices of cheese out, placing them onto your cutting board as you go to grab your skillet and some butter.
You walked back into your living room to turn on your answering box to listen to any messages you might've gotten while you were napping.
-beep!- "You have- 2 new messages" -beep!-
You walk back into the kitchen to make your grilled cheese, turning the stove on for the skillet and putting two slices of butter on it to melt.
"Hey, Y/n! It's Sarah. I wanted to call to tell you that Mark and I are engaged now! How awesome is that, right! I'll have to talk to you about it when you actually answer your phone. I'll talk to you later, bye!" -beep!-
You smile to yourself, it was always good hearing from Sarah, you never got to talk to her often and you were happy that she finally got engaged with Mark. It might be better to meet with her to congratulate and talk to her, you'll call to tell her that later.
"Hey, Y/n. It's dad. I heard about what happened at the University and I want to say I'm sorry, Kiddo. If you ever need help with anything or just want to come and hang out with your old man you can always come over whenever you want. I hope you feel better and, uh, yeah. I love you, stay safe." -beep!-
It was always so nice to hear from your parents. You hated to say it but it was even better when you heard from your dad rather than your mom. You'd always been daddy's little girl though. You need to go and visit them very soon, you forgot just how much you missed them.
You take both of the grilled cheeses off of the skillet and turn of the stove for both the soup and the skillet.
"Hey, Y/n, it's Ray again. Good and exciting news; me, Venkman, and Spengler got actual evidence that phantoms and ghosts are real and even got an ectoplasm sample. Not so good news; we've all been kicked out of the University today. I guess the Dean decided he was done with us in the same week. Anyway, just wanted to sha-" -beep!- "Time limit exceeded." -beep!- "You have no more messages" -beep!-
"Shit. I hope they're okay." You say to yourself, taking your plate and bowl to place it on your kitchen island.
Your home didn't feel all that cozy now with all of the boxes scattered throughout your apartment. Though you guess it never was to begin with.
There were only the bare necessities. A bed, a chair next to the island, pots and pans, food, a small television, a table where the television and phone sat, and a few other kitchen appliances. You were always at your lab so you didn't feel the need for a couch, things for hobbies, or anything else that wasn't completely necessary, though you guess that a television wasn't exactly necessary.
You sit at the island and eat, turning on your television and putting on the news. Nothing interesting to say the least, just the same boring thing as everyday.
You sigh and clean up the mess from your food, walking them and putting them up to dry. Turn off the television and head into your room to go to bed again.
Though it sucked to have been fired from the University, you had a lot of time to relax now, to sleep a normal amount of time for the first time in years. But the downside of it is that you were bored. So incredibly bored, this was also the first time that you had nothing to do in years to occupy your hands and mind. It was awful.
You finally fall asleep after letting your mind wander, thinking about how you never would have had to let Thallman go work with another professor if you would've just done something else to not piss of the Dean.
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷
This was a shorter chapter and I'm actually being smarter about making chapter fics, making two of them at a time so people don't wait ages for one individual chapter to be released (And I'm terribly sorry for that, guys), and I'm sorry for the pace that this is going. But the next chapter is going to have more, I promise. I'll stop the ranting for now, I do hope you enjoyed it, though.
#egon spengler x reader#egon spengler#spengler x reader#ray stantz#peter venkman#winston zeddemore#dana barrett#janine melnitz#ghostbusters#ghostbusters 1984
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Before the Draft Notice
This follows on directly from Splashing Around Chapter 1 & Chapter 2.
Hello darlings! So, I had something else ready to post, but, well, it's not yet even Halloween and therefore I’ve been informed it might be a little, teeny, tiny, bit early for Christmas fics - so here I am, bridging the gap with a little teeny tiny filler. Let me know though if/when you think it might be the correct time for festive fluffy fun!
warnings: kissing, implications of underage. unedited (I will probs come back to this tomorrow).
1957 elvis x oc
wc: 2.4k
Elvis wasn’t home soon though, he dawdled in California until they all saw the news articles of him at a fancy Halloween party and though the other girls had a lot to say about it, Louise privately thought it made sense; he was young, he was popular, he was making it, why wouldn’t he be rubbing shoulders with the starlets and actors of the west coast? Although that didn’t mean she didn’t share their fears, understanding their annoyance was borne from stress that he was leaving them behind. Besides, he’d called in a terrible temper the night before and it was, or at least Louise thought, an effective way for him to blow off some steam. He had been on the phone to them for hours, forcing them to pass it around to one another, telling them the same story over and over - presumably intending on doing so until someone managed to calm him down. Louise dreaded to think of the cost of just that one call - surely more than she’d spent on the phone in a year.
“Hey Elvis, it’s me.” She could picture his nostrils flaring as she heard a puff from him,
“Lou-ise.” He was curt, and she worried the phone cord around her finger, twirling it as she tried to think of what to say; desperate to prove herself to him and to the others - to succeed where all the others had failed.
“I, uh, I heard ‘bout the, I heard about the police.”
“Did ya? Wish they’d just move on; I’m not doing anything wrong. I don’t get why they hafta keep picking on me.” Louise hums, and he continues, “They’re sayin’ I’m - I’m lewd, got the goddamn police after me again like I’m a fucking criminal. Ain’t enough they’ve made me 1A already, they gotta try and prove their goddamn point.” She sighs,
“Well - I thought that didn’t bother you anymore?” He huffs back at her,
“Well, no, it don’t. I find it funny most of the time now. I mean - they didn’t even look at me the whole night, but it’s still, it’s still not fair to treat my fans like that either is it?” She murmurs back to him in what she hopes is a consolatory tone,
“No, no you’re right El… it’s not, it’s not fair.” She pauses, briefly, “What’s really the matter though? That’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before.” There’s a longer pause, as if he’s debating whether to tell her. She shakes out a hand to the others left in the room motioning at them to leave. They grumble but filter out, talking about who was driving who home. Then, in a whine,
“Some reporter had me read something from Sinatra.” Ah, there it was, “And, and, I just don’t know where he gets off being so mean.” He sounds like a little boy complaining about someone in the school yard, and Louise smiles,
“Uh-huh, I hear you. He is being awfully unfair. You want me to write an opinion piece back to him? I could hand it in for extra credit in my English class.” He laughs,
“Oh, I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this. Not at -” She can practically hear him adding up the time difference on his fingers, “- well, this late on a school night.” He pauses, “What are you doin’ there anyway - shouldn’t you be at home?” She winces, it was pretty late, and she’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that.
“Well, we were all here waiting for you to call. Wanted to be here in case you needed us - all of us that could be here anyway - and well, a lot of the others have gone home but, well, your mom said I could stay as long as I liked so, well, here I am.”
“But you’ve been keeping up with school? You’ve not been skippin’?” She rolls her eyes, and he tuts,
“I heard that.” Louise giggles back,
“You can’t possibly!”
“Trust me - I always know.” He sighs, “God, I can’t wait to be home.” He yawned, jaw cracking, “Gotta, gonna go to this party, just - think it’s just a lil, little, uh, gathering - then I’ll be home.”
“Well, I’ll be waiting,” He pauses,
“Well - it’s, it’s probably best if you, well if you go home ‘til I call for you hmm?” It wasn’t unexpected, but Louise still felt her stomach drop.
“Yeah, of course, uh, whatever you say.”
“Just be for the best, I think honey.”
“Yeah, I get it, sure.”
“Sleep tight then baby, I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah-huh, you too.” He hangs up and she’s left holding the receiver, in his empty living room, uncertain really what he’d been saying.
When he finally got back Louise didn’t get a call, and then she heard he had left for Hawaii before she had managed to muster up the courage to call him herself. Once Elvis returned, he didn’t call her himself for days, although she did get several calls inviting her up to the house which she of course accepted every time. And every night it was the same story, she sat there, quietly with the other girls while he chatted and played evening after evening. Louise wasn’t being ignored, not really. He was just…sharing his affections. Equalizing his attention amongst them all. It wasn’t until a week later, on the weekend, that he came around to the girls, flopping down onto the sofa between them and resting his head onto Louise’s lap. Frances had his feet on hers, and she softly brushed his sole until he huffed, twitching his foot away and turning his head into Louise’s stomach. She gently stroked his hair, fingers barely catching in his freshly washed strands. She could feel his hot breath against her skin through the thin fabric of her dress and it makes her hair stand up on edge, the intimacy of the moment almost too much for her as she tries to keep her breathing steady.
“I’ve got a bad feelin,’ Ma does too.” Louise’s hand stills, her other coming down to tickle his back, soft fingers dancing over his shoulders. Elvis twists his head, nodding against her hand and Louise gets the hint returning to gently brushing through his hair.
Frances pipes up, “What d’you mean?”
“I’ve - I’ve got a nasty feeling about my notice - don’t think it’ll be long now.”
“Oh.” Louise feels her chest tighten, worry already setting in as Frances responds,
“No! I’m sure that’s not true Elvis! You’ve got so much already planned!” He huffs, and Louise whispers back to him,
“Well, we’ll deal with it if it is,” He whines a little into her,
“Y’all gotta promise me - promise me you’ll all be good while I’m gone, I don’t - don’t wanna hear you’ve gotten into trouble.” He pauses, his voice muffled by the fabric of her dress, “Don’t want anything to change.” Louise can’t help but think about all the ways she wants things to change, namely how it’s now been months since they last kissed properly, and she felt like she was close to begging for it - propriety be damned. Whether Elvis notices her telepathic hinting, or if it was always in the plan is unclear, but within the hour he had returned to his bedroom, presumably to get changed again although he didn’t bother to announce that to the room. George tapping on her shoulder twenty minutes later after some sort of Chinese whispers had taken place with orders for her to be sent up to him.
Louise tentatively knocked on the door even though she knew he was expecting her, awaiting his, “Come on in little Lou-Lou!” before opening it. He’s perched on the end of his bed when she walks in, her feet sinking into his soft, still new-feeling, thick white carpet, and he opens his arms to her. She practically throws herself into them and is immediately rewarded by him pulling her tight to him, his arms folding around her back, clutching her close. She couldn’t break away further than an inch if she wanted to, not that she did. She contented herself nosing at his neck, before one of his hands strayed up to rest on her cheek, turning her face to his, before falling down to her neck, fingers splayed up to her chin. She tips her head up, meeting his eyes and he winks before ducking his own head down to meet hers. It’s at once far more involved than the last time they’d kissed. This time he’s kissing her like he’s hungry for it and he pulls away, briefly, with a tug to her bottom lip,
“God - I missed ya, baby,” before clutching her face close again. Louise feels like her body is burning from the inside out, can feel the heat building and starting to radiate off her, and Elvis’ arm clenches around her, stilling her movements as she practically bucks against him. She just melts, his arm the only thing really holding her up as she willingly goes along with her devourment. He laughs, his fingers grazing her waist, as she gasps for a breath, her eyes still closed, “You’re so pretty.” Her eyes flutter open in disbelief, unable to believe, even having heard it herself, that Elvis was telling her she was pretty. She gathered her strength to place her wobbly arms around his neck, murmuring back to him, “No, you’re the pretty one, gosh you’re gorgeous, you look so good,” as she presses little kisses all over his cheeks and face. He reciprocates, and she manages to keep her eyes open, watching him at impossibly close range. He ends by pressing a kiss to her mouth again, and this time Louise pushes herself against him so hard that they go tumbling down onto the bed. She giggles, looking around at the blue walls, but Elvis quickly regains her attention, caging her in under him and capturing her mouth with his again. She relaxes into him - completely at ease and trusting.
By the time they make their way back downstairs, Louise was dazed, and her lips bitten sore, and she was pleased to notice Elvis’ looked the same - a little zing of possessiveness sent straight up her spine. Yes; she mussed his hair up to look like that. His lips are rosy and plumped because of her. She misses everyone’s first looks, coming in behind Elvis, and though he doesn’t announce what they’ d been up to she can feel their knowing eyes, and she resigns herself to having to field questions on the nature of her relationship with Elvis.
Elvis immediately situated himself back on the couch, patting the space next to him.
“C’mon little girl, come sit next to me.” Louise writhes a little, her face echoing her jumbled internal thoughts.
“What? C’mon, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, eyebrow rising and Louise is quick to walk over to him, anxious for him not to change his mind despite her annoyance. He grabs her wrist before she can sit down, tugging her to stand in front of him. “You don’t wanna sit with me now?” She thinks, but doesn’t say, ‘well, no. because you’re holding me upright.’
“No, no, I do. I just, I know you don’t mean it in this way, but it’s just…well, Elvis - you’re not that much older than me, and it feels like sometimes you’re, - “She pauses, unsure how to put it, his gaze hardens,
“I’m what?”
“Like you’re, oh I don’t know Elvis!” He doesn’t let go, and he doesn’t respond, just waiting her out. “Well. You just don’t needta call me little all the damn time.” His brow furrows as he tries to work out what’s referring to,
“What? I can’t call you little girl?” He scoffs, “I don’t mean nothing by it. Jus what you are s’all.”
“Elvis.” She pouts, and he grins, pulling her closer, pressing his palms to her cheeks,
“Just my itty-bitty baby girl.” She groans, annoyed he wasn’t taking her seriously, and stomps her foot. He cackles in response, drawing back.
“See, what did I tell ya boys - She’s just a baby.” He says it with a sneer, and it suddenly doesn’t feel like kind-hearted teasing anymore. Louise can rapidly feel tears of frustration blurring her vision, frustrated at the situation, and at how it’s impossible to argue she’s not a baby when she’s crying at everything. Elvis frowns. “Oh, honey, there’s no need fo-” But they don’t stop coming, and he watches almost forlorn himself as a fat, salty teardrop slides down her cheek. He sighs, “C’mere with me.” He drags her out of the room away from the others and pulls her along all the way back up to his bathroom, “C’mon, here we go,” He picks her up to balance her on the vanity while she sniffles.
“So-rry,” She manages to get out, while he gently wipes at her eyes with his thumbs, “Didn’t mean to, I know you were playing.” He smiles, eyes almost pleading, crinkling just the tiniest amount around the corners,
“Thought you were gonna fight it out with me. I wasn’t expecting the waterworks, but I guess, well I guess, you’re jus’ a little over-emot’onal huh, darling?” He kisses the tears away, teardrop clinging to his lip as she struggles to compose herself. “Will you still come back tomorrow?” The question startles Louise enough for her to stop the tears,
“Of course! Whenever you want me too.” Elvis brushes his hand through his hair, shoving some of it back into place.
“Honey, I want you here all the time. Even when you’re bein’ silly.” He taps her nose and Louise giggles again. “Look, I think someone here is tired, so how’s abouts I drop you home?”
Louise blinks back at him, the offer almost unheard of, “You want to?” He nods, his hair flopping back into disarray,
“Yeah-huh, let’s wash your face, huh honey? And then I’ll take you home. Tuck my baby in for the night.” Louise blushes, this was exactly the kind of comment she’d just been protesting, and yet now it was making her head feel fuzzy and her tummy flip with anticipation. Elvis shifts his weight as he cocks a hip, holding his hand out for her hold for balance as she hops off the sink and as the sturdy weight of his fingers sink into hers Louise decides it’s not an argument that she has any desire to win.
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In Heat [IV]
Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader
Previously: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III
Keep reading: Chapter V
The rundown: As your first heat finally comes to an end, you worry that your shameless behavior put a strain on your relationship with Lo'ak.
Warnings: 18+ content, language, final angsty bits i'm sorry, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please
WC: 3.4k
A/N: This is a little shorter than usual but it’s mainly just filler plot before the good stuff starts next chapter (which is already done and will be posted tomorrow 🫡). No more angst!! f yeah
Training that afternoon was grueling. Lo'ak didn't know if it was because his mind was so out of it or if his father had just decided to play with death that day.
Either way, Lo'ak left the training session pissed off and sore, feeling every bruise and nick from when he couldn't dodge Jake's skilled moves in time.
The walk back home with Neteyam was just as frustrating. Lo'ak stormed ahead, aggressively pushing away any stray branch or leaf that got in his way.
Neteyam knew that his brother acted this way every time he had a tough training session, so he took it upon himself to attempt to lighten the mood.
"C'mon baby bro, you gotta get your skxawng-ass in shape," he said with a laugh, grabbing Lo'ak by the back of the head and nudging him around until Lo'ak managed to pull away with an annoyed hiss.
Neteyam took a step back, cocking an eyebrow in Lo'ak's direction.
Lo'ak, on the other hand, was in no mood to be made fun of or lectured by Neteyam. He just wanted to go back to his tent and crash for the remainder of the day. Lo'ak's mind was spinning, and he just needed a break from everything.
With that in mind, he marched ahead, reaching Hometree before everyone else in their group. Just as he was about to head to his sleeping mat for some much-needed rest, he suddenly recalled his promise to you.
Bringing you lunch was the least he could do, but facing you again in such close quarters was more than he could manage. He didn't trust himself to keep his emotions at bay.
Lo'ak knew that your heat was coming to an end, and he dreaded encountering the ever-conscious version of yourself that would definitely be able to tell how head-over-heels in love he was.
Despite the storm of emotions raging within him, Lo'ak was painfully aware that he couldn't afford to break his promise. You would go out searching for him if he failed to follow through, which was the last thing he needed.
With a long, exasperated sigh, he reluctantly took off toward his family's tent.
As if the universe was granting Lo'ak at least one small favor, the tent was mercifully empty upon his arrival. Sitting patiently for their consumption was his mother's carefully prepared lunch. It was intended for himself, his brother, and his father–a reward for a hard day of training.
He piled a veritable mountain of food high enough for two whole meals onto a spare leaf.
Lo'ak couldn't care less that he was taking not only his own serving but also snagging a portion from either his brother's or his father's share to give to you.
With clumsy haste, he wrapped and tied the meal before stealthily slipping out of the tent and making his way toward you.
Lo'ak gingerly approached your home and peered inside, relieved to find that your windows were still rolled open.
The morning's stillness had given way to a soft late-afternoon breeze, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. As he scanned inside the room, his eyes fell upon your sleeping form, curled into a ball on your sleeping mat, your breathing slow and even.
He didn't let himself linger for long.
He moved closer to the entrance, trying his best not to make any noise, and left the neatly wrapped meal just outside the foot of your tent.
He then reached out and gave the structure of your tent three loud knocks, hoping it would be enough to rouse you from your sleep.
As he stealthily returned to the window, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at disturbing your rest, but it was all for a good cause.
Lo'ak watched as you started to stir, moaning in protest at the unwanted intrusion. You sleepily sat up, rubbing your eyes and probably wondering who would dare disturb your precious sleep. He didn't stay any longer than he needed to, confident that you would find the food and get the picture that he wouldn't see you for the rest of the day.
You had no choice but to wake up to the obnoxiously loud and aggressive knocking at the front of your tent. It was a sound that would render anyone jumpy and disoriented.
You grumpily stretched your legs out in front of you, picking yourself up off the floor and forcing your legs ever so sluggishly toward the disturbance that interrupted your slumber.
To your confusion, you opened the flap to find nothing but a clumsily wrapped package containing copious amounts of grilled hexapede and banana fruit.
Your eyes widened in disbelief as you took in the sight–it had to be enough food to keep a small army of children fed.
You furrowed your brows at the food, recalling that Lo'ak said he'd bring you lunch that afternoon. However, maybe naively, you had assumed it would be a shared meal.
The whopping portion of food left for you by the tent implied that the plan might not pan out after all. Either he had no clue how much was too much, or he wasn't planning on bringing anything for dinner that night.
You couldn't help but feel a little stupid for thinking that Lo'ak would be able to drop everything and be by your side all day.
You were determined not to let the situation get to you.
You brought the food inside and cautiously ate half of it, saving the rest for later. You didn't want to jump to conclusions and assume you would need it if Lo'ak never returned for dinner, but it was always better to be prepared.
After you finished eating, you spiritlessly sat at your table, restlessly tapping your fingers against your folded legs.
Suddenly, you stood up and walked over to your sleeping mat, rolling it up and stashing it away in the corner of the room. With a sigh, you made your way to your shelf of knick-knacks, which held your collection of wooden beads, half-woven tops, leather arm bands, neckpieces, visors, and shawls, all carefully arranged atop the wooden structure.
Purely out of habit, you anxiously picked up each item, placing them in piles on the floor before rearranging them all back onto the shelf.
You repeated this process multiple times, each time rearranging the items in a slightly different order until you were somewhat satisfied with the display.
You then took a step back to look at your work, only to realize that it looked exactly the same as it had initially been.
You had to physically refrain from shouting out in frustration.
Your eyes darted around the room, landing on the half-finished top you had abandoned on the shelf. You hastily grabbed it and planted yourself on the floor, mindlessly weaving the item of clothing. Your fingers expertly wove in and out of the fabric, but your mind was elsewhere.
Bizarre. Restless. That was how you felt.
You didn't feel restless in the sense that you needed to get off (which had been the case all throughout your heat), but you felt restless in the sense that you were hyper-aware of everything: the rustling of the forest outside your window, the crackling of the fire in the center of the room, and the glaring fact that you were all alone.
Even though it was now dark outside, and you were sure that dinner had come and gone, Lo'ak was still nowhere to be found.
A part of you clung to the hope that he would show up, but deep down, you knew it was a lost cause. He had left you lunch outside your door earlier in the day and made no indication that he would be returning.
As you continued to weave the fabric, you could hear the wind howling outside. It was a familiar sound that had lulled you to sleep many times before, but tonight it was different. There was an edge to it that made your skin prickle with goosebumps.
Your thoughts incessantly circled around the way you had acted towards Lo'ak and, fuck, the things you said to him throughout those past few days.
It all resonated in your head, making your heartbeat quicken with equal parts worry and embarrassment. Had your actions driven him away? Was he so uncomfortable around you that he couldn't stand to be in your company anymore? Had you ruined your lifelong friendship?
Your fingers fumbled with the weaving pattern, ruining the piece so many times you lost count.
You tossed the partially-finished top to the side, anxiously running a hand up your face, through your hair.
You needed to do something. Anything to keep your mind off the angst you felt rising to the surface all at once. So you pushed yourself to your feet, tied your hair up with a leather band, and made your way out the front door.
You managed to sneak out of Hometree, escaping to the peaceful forest that surrounded you.
Breathing in the fresh air, you took a moment to appreciate the serenity of the forest, feeling its calming aura wash over you. Finally free from the confines of your indoor prison, you relished in the feeling of the leaves brushing against your skin as you sprinted aimlessly through the forest.
With each stride, you grew increasingly invigorated, the rain puddles splashing beneath your feet as you bounded across stones and beneath looming branches.
As you ran, your thoughts began to quiet to nothing, melting away the day's tensions. You ran without a destination in mind until your lungs burned and your legs ached. Finally, breathless and exhilarated, you came to a stop, slowly catching your breath.
Satisfied with how burned-out and sore you felt, you turned back in the direction of Hometree, which now had to be a good twenty-minute walk back.
You made your way slowly back through the forest, your feet dragging with bone-deep exhaustion. As you finally approached your tent, you rolled out your sleeping mat and sank onto it with a sigh, feeling the peacefulness of the forest still humming through your veins as you fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, you woke up feeling more rested than you had in months. You sat up with a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before you stopped in your tracks and gasped in shock.
"Holy shit," you whispered.
For the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up entirely pain-free, without the gnawing pressure on your core that you'd become so accustomed to during your cycle.
It was like a miracle had occurred overnight.
You couldn't even recall having any lust-filled dreams, and you actually woke up without the uncomfortable feeling of being all sweaty and sticky.
With a massive grin on your face, you squealed out in delight at having made it through your first (and what would undeniably be the worst) heat cycle.
You were finally at peace with yourself now that you had complete control over your emotions and hormones. You eagerly got ready in record time to leave your home and return to the world again. The thought of hiding out in your home all day and night made you feel suffocated.
You made your way towards the center of Hometree, where breakfast was already underway.
Like the previous day, before you were unceremoniously dragged away from your meal, you quickly spotted Näoo, grabbing a bowl of food and making your way over to the girl with a smile on your face.
Näoo's face lit up as she caught sight of you, her excitement evident.
"y/n! I was getting worried I wouldn't see you today," Her eyes scanned over your face, widening in delight when she saw your eyes.
Your previously dark eyes now resembled their original bright yellow, your pupils no longer blown out to extreme proportions.
"You look better than you did yesterday, yawne." Näoo said, her delight evident. "Your eyes are back to normal! How do you feel? Is your…"
She trailed off, her eyes going wide at almost screaming your business out to the entire clan. She continued at a lower volume, much to your relief. "…is your heat cycle finished?"
You smiled, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you nodded at the girl before you.
"I think so…" you replied, barely able to contain your enthusiasm.
Näoo reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tightly as she beamed at you. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice filled with joy.
You paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer the question.
On the one hand, you felt so relieved that you were back to normal, finally feeling like yourself again in your own skin. But on the other hand, you couldn't help but worry that you'd put a strain on your relationship with Lo'ak.
As if sensing your inner turmoil, Näoo squeezed your hand again, urging you to go on. You hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"I feel like I messed up," you admitted in frustration, hastily biting into a piece of Spartan fruit.
Näoo's forehead creased in puzzlement, her head cocking to the side as she tried to make sense of your response. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Does this have something to do with 'you-know-who'?"
You snorted derisively at her blatant attempt at not spilling your secrets to anyone who happened to be within earshot. However, you still nodded your head in confirmation.
Näoo's expression changed dramatically, morphing from one of confusion to understanding within a matter of seconds.
"Have you spoken to him since your cycle ended?" she inquired pointedly.
The thought of approaching Lo'ak again made your stomach drop. You quickly shook your head no, which only caused Näoo's face to pinch even more in confusion.
"y/n," she admonished, "you have to talk to him! You're only making things more awkward if you don't address what happened!"
You rolled your eyes in frustration. It wasn't that you weren't aware of how much the situation between you and Lo'ak had deteriorated ever since you entered your heat, but you literally would've rather been eaten alive by a palulukan than talk to your best friend after the way you'd so brazenly acted towards him.
"Absolutely not." You vehemently shook your head.
And you absolutely did not want to discuss the topic any further. To mask your present frustration, you stuffed your mouth with a healthy serving of fruit.
Näoo noticed your childish behavior and began to roll her eyes, something you, the older of the two, usually did to her.
"So, what? You're just never going to talk to your best friend ever again?"
You shrugged. "I guess not."
Näoo knew that you were being irrational. You knew that you were being irrational.
Näoo sighed in frustration.
She inconspicuously nudged her head across the room towards the Sully family, who unfortunately included the boy in question.
You swallowed at the sight of Lo'ak, feeling your cheeks flush at the memories of what your heat-induced self said and did to the boy.
Kiri noticed you and Näoo looking their way.
She broke out into a smile, waving her hand at you both, which immediately caught Lo'ak's attention. His brows furrowed as he looked up from his food towards his sister, following her gaze all the way across the room to where you and Näoo sat.
His eyes only briefly widened as he made eye contact with you before he quickly averted his gaze towards his food, not looking back for the life of him.
You exhaled deeply, releasing the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
You made an attempt to flash a reassuring smile at Kiri in the midst of the chaos before switching your focus back to Näoo, who appeared baffled by Lo'ak's odd demeanor towards you.
The two of you had a history of being inseparable. You were best friends, for Eywa's sake. Just yesterday, Lo'ak practically ran to you upon seeing you at breakfast. Näoo couldn't understand why he reacted so differently today.
In a dramatic flourish, you widened your eyes at Näoo, emphasizing your point. "See? He's avoiding me. Has been since yesterday afternoon."
Näoo looked back and forth between you and Lo'ak, squinting in confusion, trying to find an explanation for the boy's strange behavior. "What the hell happened yesterday afternoon, then? Did you guys get into an argument or something?"
You sighed deeply, because how could you even answer that question? What the hell did happen yesterday afternoon?
You remembered Lo'ak's words clearly, that you shouldn't have been out in public during your heat. You got pissed at his overbearing nature and told him off for telling you what to do. But deep down, you knew he was only looking out for you.
Lo'ak then tried to set a firm boundary between you both while you finished your heat cycle. But you begged him not to leave, not wanting to be alone during such a difficult time, and then proceeded to do the unthinkable right in front of him. Eventually, Lo'ak left and never came back, except to drop off enough food for two meals while you were asleep.
All signs pointed to him being so uncomfortable around you that he felt the need to put a Pandora-sized distance between you two. You felt so embarrassed and guilty that you couldn't blame him for avoiding you.
Näoo shook your shoulder as you went silent. "Well?!" She pressed.
You took a deep breath and sighed before finally opening up, "I don't even know. I think I was just too much, too forward and needy and desperate while I was in heat. He probably hates me for doing this to us."
Näoo vehemently shook her head. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"No, y/n. It's not your fault. You were under the influence of your heat. You couldn't control what was happening to you."
You shrugged your shoulders, clearly unconvinced, as Näoo continued trying to reassure you, "He could have easily said no or pulled out of the situation when you guys did stuff together. If anything, he's at fault for going through with it while you were in an altered state of mind! That little piece of–!"
You cut her off, instinctively reaching for Näoo's arm.
"That's what he said, too, right before he started avoiding me," you sighed. "But I even said that I was fully aware of what I was asking for, of what I wanted from him. That's kind of when he freaked out and said that it wasn't really me who said those things. I guess maybe…."
A lump formed in your throat at your realization. "I guess maybe he doesn't see me like that. Oh fuck, I deluded myself into believing that he did…"
Näoo's eyes softened at you as she shook her head.
"y/n. That boy is head over heels in love with you," Näoo said simply. "I said it before, and I'm saying it again now. Everyone knows it—except for you two idiots."
Your eyes widened in surprise, "Everyone knows?"
Näoo rolled her eyes at your obliviousness. "Yes, everyone. It's obvious. The way he's always by your side, the way he goes on and on about you when you're not around, the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. It's all there," Näoo said with a knowing smile.
You couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. "Really?" you asked tentatively.
"Really," Näoo confirmed.
She leaned back and crossed her arms, "Look, it sounds like you two have a lot to sit down and talk about. And I mean seriously talk. Like two adults."
Upon hearing Näoo's words, your face twisted into a grimace.
As much as you hated to admit it, Näoo was right. But you honestly couldn't imagine yourself being able to hold a conversation with Lo'ak any time in the near future.
Näoo noticed the expression on your face and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I care about you, y/n, and I know how much you care about Lo'ak—whether you want to admit you do or not. I just want to see you happy."
You smiled back at your friend, returning the reassuring gesture. "Thank you, Näoo. It really means a lot to me." You said.
Upon hearing your words, Näoo's smile grew even wider. "You're so lovesick," she snickered.
After finishing your breakfast, you promised Näoo that you would talk to Lo'ak soon. You had to, even though the very thought made you feel like you were going to throw up.
A/N pt. 2: This was originally part of the last chapter (which was getting tooooo long which is why this prob feels so weird), but next chapter is so much better I promise :)
Taglist <3:
@vanillawhale, @strawberryclouds22, @countryandsweetbabygirl, @kurogxrix, @yunonaneko, @ahsatan785, @lauratstrange, @lwesodra
Previously: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III
Keep reading: Chapter V
#teyamskxawng#teyamskxawng’s fics#lo'ak x reader#lo’ak x reader#lo’ak smut#lo'ak smut#avatar the way of water#avatar#avatar 2022#atwow#lo'ak x y/n#lo’ak x y/n#lo'ak sully#lo’ak#lo'ak fanfiction#avatar fanfiction#james cameron avatar
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9 to 5 || f1 drivers (4)
(SPIN OFF TO COLOUR ME YOUR COLOUR and RUSH)
Summary: Lorelei Hester ‘Lester’ Alessandro is a bassist first and Daniel Ricciardo’s partner second. But it seems like another role is added to her resume as she begins her weekend in Baku as Toto Wolff’s children’s babysitter.
Chapter/blurb summary: At the Mercedes hospitality, Lester and Toto prepared for a long weekend by easing the bassist's intimidation towards the Wolff kids' father. AND Toto and his kids had a different way to seal a deal, and everyone seemed to love it.
Content warning: Mentions of sickness, doting dad!Toto being doubtful, filler chapter part two (lmao), google/apple translated German, wholesome Toto Wolff + kids content.
Note: Updated the masterlist!!!!!
masterlist
iv. papa, soren and tia's promise hug
THURSDAY - Baku Race Weekend
The instructions were simple.
Keep an eye on the kids. They may be sweet but they’re menaces.
Make sure they’re fed (especially Tia because she’s a picky eater and she would cry if she didn’t eat). If Tia didn’t want anything from the venue, ask Toto’s assistant to drive them to the nearest restaurant or mall for food. Take Toto’s platinum card just so the kids are eating what they want.
Make sure they’re entertained. They may visit other hospitality areas if they feel like it but never go near the busy garages. They can say hi to the people who worked, but they can’t go near any cars without Toto’s supervision.
Whenever Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc approach the kids to fulfill their uncle duties, scare the men a little bit to remind them that they’re not married to Toto’s in-laws yet. Tell them to “know their place” but with kindness.
If they ever want to take the kids to say hi to others, tell them that they need to text Toto directly. Not Tilly. Toto. Tilly’s at home, taking care of their youngest child.
Don’t stress too much about putting the kids into danger. They know when to stay away from trouble.
The instructions were simple, but she swore she could feel her palms sweating while she was listening to Toto talk about the kids and how to care for them.
This wasn’t her first babysitting gig. She had a niece and nephews and their terrible two phases weren't that bad. Lester didn’t know why she scared herself so much when she thought of taking care of Soren and Tia.
Still, Toto’s aura was intimidating.
He was the same man who dressed his son in a denim shirt (with the letters SPAW — his son’s initials — embroidered on the bottom of its right hand pocket) and khakis shorts and his daughter in a beige puff sleeved shirt under her denim dungarees. He was the same man who had placed his daughter’s hair back with a bee barrette. Why was she so intimidated?
He didn’t carry his emotions at work around his family and he was definitely a loving father, yet Lester’s still scared of him. Not in Max and Charles’ level of scared though.
Inside the Mercedes hospitality stood Lester. She never felt awkward visiting the place even if her boyfriend was a driver for the rival team. If there’s anything that she had learned, it was that she had access to almost every team’s hospitality. Mercedes was a familiar place, seeing as she often found herself hanging out with Tilly whenever she was attending for the weekend. Talking to Toto alone was quite awkward but nevertheless she continued to nod along.
“You need to stop being intimidated by me,” Toto told her with a frown, “I’m not scary.”
“Half the grid would beg to differ,” Lester muttered to herself. He didn’t hear it.
“You’re not going to endanger the two I promise,” he added, “they are well behaved.”
“I’m not worried,” Lester waved off his comment, “we’ll have fun. Don’t worry too much about them, hm?”
“This is the first time I have brought them to another country without Tilly,” Toto chuckled to himself. “I have managed to dress them up today, so that is good. No?”
“They’re still breathing,” Lester told him, making him laugh. A rare one. She then shifted the topic to the other child who was forced to stay at home, “How is Adelmo?”
Toto’s eyes showed nothing but solemnity. He ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed, “The poor boy has a croup. Ren and Tia were excited to show him everything but we cannot take him with us. He’s been coughing a lot so Tilly took him to their physician. So… yeah. He has been crying a lot. Tilly said it took her an hour to get him to settle and take his medicine.”
Lester pursed her lips, “Poor little man.”
Toto nodded, “Tilly is just as restless as she normally would be on a race weekend. She would normally have a relaxed weekend whenever she stays back in England with the littles. She might as well have traveled with us, no?”
“It’s best if she stayed back with Adelmo,” Lester shrugged, “to lessen the exposure to more sickness. I’m sure his croup would go away eventually.”
“I hope so,” Toto sighed, now watching his older two play. “I should probably hand them over to you.”
“You should definitely,” Lester nodded in agreement. “Be a Team Principal right now. You can be Papa later.”
“I can be both at the same time,” Toto jokes, “you’re undermining my multitasking skills?”
“I’m not trying to, but in between a team who will be racing on Sunday and two children who are petting Roscoe? I think your drivers need you more,” Lester chuckled before shooing him off, “go.”
“Meine kinder,” Toto called the two, making the little ones turn and run to him. They stood before him, eyes that were once looking up moved their gaze as their father knelt down in front of them.
He spoke to them in a foreign language while gesturing at Lester, “Papa wird heute hart arbeiten. Ich brauche deine Hilfe, also hör zu, okay? Deine Tante Lorelei wird dir heute und morgen und morgen danach bei deiner Aufgabe helfen. Kannst du hart arbeiten wie Papa und Tante Lori erlauben, dir zu helfen?” Dad will work hard today. I need your help, so listen, okay? Your aunt Lorelei will help you with your task today and tomorrow and tomorrow after. Can you work hard like dad and allow Aunt Lori to help you?
His son and daughter looked up at her as she offered them a smile, not knowing what they just spoke of. The children looked back at Toto before the boy asked, “Bedeutet das, Bücher zu lesen?” Does that mean reading books?
Toto answered, “It can be reading. Did you bring your books?” The boy nodded.
The girl raised her hand, making the two look at her as she asked, “Ist es in Ordnung, wenn ich Onkel Max und Onkel Charles grüße? Und Onkel Lewis?” Is it okay if I say hi to Uncle Max and Uncle Charles? And Uncle Lewis? Now Lester understood a little bit of her question. Hearing the three drivers’ names did it for her.
Toto nodded, “Ja, aber du musst Tante Lori zuhören, wenn sie um etwas bittet. Und wenn du um etwas bitten willst, sag es ihr einfach und sie kann dir helfen.” Yes, but you have to listen to Auntie Lori whenever she asks for something. And if you want to ask for anything, just tell her and she can help you.
“Okay,” the kids answered at the same time.
“Are we going to work hard this weekend?” Toto asked with a grin. “Together?” The kids nodded eagerly. “Okay then, kann Papa eine versprochene Umarmung haben?” Can Papa have a promise hug?
Lester was so smitten at the sight of the father and the children that she hadn’t noticed the Mercedes photographer and cameraman were taking pictures and videos of the family. None of them noticed either, too busy attacking their father with a hug. Toto was attacking them with kisses all over their faces before he fell back, his children’s weight pushing him down.
“Wenn wir später zurückkommen, werden wir Mama anrufen, dann werden wir sehen, ob es Delmo besser geht,” when we get back later, we’ll call Mama then we’ll see if Delmo feels better. Toto murmured before he stood up, messing with his son’s hair one more time before he looked up at Lester with a grateful smile, “Thank you again, Lori. I appreciate your help.”
“Bye Papa!” “See you Papa!”
He waved at his kids again before starting his Thursday morning work. Peering down at the kids, Lester grinned and asked, “What are we working hard on today?”
#formula one fanfiction#formula one fic#formula one imagine#formula one x oc#f1 imagine#f1 fic#formula one dad#formula one au#formula one fluff#f1 fiction#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff x oc#toto wolff fic#formula one x ofc#formula one x reader#toto wolff fanfiction#toto wolff x reader#f1 x reader#f1 au#toto wolff au#daniel ricciardo x oc#daniel ricciardo imagine#formula 1 fic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fluff
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Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby
Chapter 8: ‘Cherry Wine’
Warnings in this chapter: More fluff ig.
Authors Note: I will attempt to upload another chapter this week since this one is a bit short, and more of a filler chapter but still important to the plot nonetheless.
Masterlist
---
You set the last of the plates on the table.
“Sorry it took some time, but it’s finally done,” You stated as you wipe your brow. Considering it was a last minute decision to impress, and for the fact you were running low on funds for the week, you settled for a simple but efficient dinner. You passed the plates around, and before you sat down you served your children a healthy portion of food.
“Thanks, it looks great mum,” Elizabeth smiled up at you.
“Thank you,” Henry said, grabbing his fork and stabbing it into the meat.
“Careful not to choke, darling,” You told him quietly as you pet his hair with your hand before sitting down next to Thomas. You glanced at him, looking a little less uncomfortable as he picked at his food, taking small bites here and there but mostly paying attention to the glass of wine you served him, nearly drinking it all in one go. You noticed that his plate was still nearly full of the food you had cooked, but you held your tongue. Knowing that he never ate much anyways but you were still thankful that he still agreed to join you. Thomas grabbed the bottle of wine to pour himself another glass, then reading the table before he set it down.
“Cerise Pinot Noir,” He spoke as he read the label. “French?” He asked. You weren’t sure just how much the bottle had cost, but you had it stored away for a couple of years. Your extended family from France had gifted it to you as a belated birthday gift.
“Can you speak French, Mr. Shelby?” Henry had asked after swallowing his food. Elizabeth kept her eyes averted low on her plate unless she was glancing at you or to grimace at her brother for eating too loudly.
“A bit yeah, I do,” Thomas nodded, clearing his throat. “Spent a bit of time in France during the war,” He added.
“Woah, you were in the war?” Henry asked in amazement. You shot him a small look and cleared your throat and when Henry looked at you, you slightly shook your head. ’Don’t push’
“I was…I could show you my metals one day if you’d like?” This caused Henry to nod ecstatically, and you to look at Thomas with slightly widened eyes, his response catching you off-guard. Most of the men tried to avoid talking about the war.
“We’ve been to France once, our cousins live there,” He said.
“You were too little to even remember,” Elizabeth commented in a snobby tone.
“So? It was still fun,” Henry shrugged sheepishly.
“I didn’t know you had family in France?” Thomas turned to you, asking you quietly as your children bickered back and forth.
“My cousin was in the war too, after the war was over he stayed in France because he got married…I rarely speak to them though,” You shook your head with a shrug.
“Can we go visit them again soon, mum? I want to see the farm again,” Henry asked, interrupting your conversation with Thomas. You turned to him and nodded.
“ I’ll give them a call soon, love,” You smiled, knowing that you definitely won’t be calling them any time soon. They were your distant cousins for a reason, and they didn’t taking kindly to your ex-husbands bold and unfiltered nature.
“I actually have a couple of animals at me home, Henry…I could show you those too next time your mum brings you over,” Thomas said, officially and permanently setting his fork down.
“Really? What kind of animals?” Your son inquired, shoving some more food in his mouth.
“Duck, geese, chickens…they run all over the yard,”
Henry giggled and nodded with glee.
“What about you, Elizabeth? Would you want to see them too?” You asked, noticing how quiet she had gotten. She looked at you then looked at Thomas, and with a quirk of her brow, she said, “No thanks. I don’t like farm animals,” Then proceeded to eat her dinner. You heavily sighed, about to apologize for her attitude, but Thomas spoke up first.
“Oh then you probably won’t like horses either, eh?” He asked. This caused Henry’s eyes to light up and practically pop out of his head. Elizabeth on the other had tried to hide her intrigued look.
“Hm…” She set her utensils down. “I’ll think about it,” She says. You hid your smile behind your napkin, knowing she had a weakness for horses. She rode one once when she was younger, with the assistance of your family in France, and she got to see them all over Birmingham so it was easy for her to get distracted when admiring them from afar.
“If you both want I can teach you how to ride a horse, one day when my schedule is free you can come to the stables and pick out the best ones,” Thomas smiled slightly. “If your mother allows it,” He added, his hand slipping under the table to interlock with yours.
“I think that would make for an interesting evening,”
Another month went by.
One day you had gotten a call from Esme, baring great news that she had gotten married. You were happy for her of course, but still overall shocked. Your reaction didn’t stem from the fact she got married, no definitely not. It was only when she told you she married a man she had never met before, but all she knew was that she was absolutely in love with him. You were even more surprised when you found out exactly who she married.
John Shelby.
A week after they had gotten married, they decided to celebrate. The four of you sat in the private room of The Garrison. Dressed as nicely as you could on such short notice, a loose fitting dress to hide the bump that started to grow with each passing week.
It was your first time meeting John, you knew he was a great match for Esme. Evidently enough, she was arranged to marry him in hopes to tame her wild behavior, but even you knew that he was just as rebellious as she was. After all of the stories Thomas had told you about him, you knew he was trouble. Even after a couple of drinks, John began to ask very pressing and personal questions.
“So, (y/n) when are you gonna marry my brother?” He asked with a devious smirk and mischief leaking from his words. You chuckled to hide your disbelief and take a much needed drink of water.
“Um…” You started, then glanced at Thomas beside you as he kept his cold eyes on his younger brother. Clearing his throat as he blew the smoke out of his mouth, making sure to blow it in the opposite direction of where you sat beside him.
“When the time is right, John,” He addressed in a scolding tone.
“Right…It’s beautiful, isn’t it Esme?” He asked his new wife with a drunken laugh as she nodded along.
“’opefully she won’t end up like the last one, eh Tommy?,” John shot his older brother a cold stare. The uncomfortable silence was you bit your lip and looked down.
“Did he tell you, (Y/n)?” He asked you. “Tommy got his last wife pregnant after barely knowin’ her and right after they got married she fucked off to America with his kid,” He spoke, eyeing you. You shift uncomfortably and Thomas glances at you as you swallow thickly and look up at John again, taking a deep breath to ease the nausea. Was this a test? To see if you were going to stick through it with him after his last wife? Or was it a way to see if you could handle the pressure? You had no idea, but you were glad Esme was there to break the silence.
“John,” Esme warned him quietly as she rubbed his arm. “That’s enough,” She soothed him.
“I mean, we all thought it was going to be a disaster from the start, but they held on for a lot longer than we thought,” His drunken smile couldn’t help but make you chuckle under your breath as the tension from Thomas’ corner grew thicker with each passing second.
“I mean, you two can fall in love with each other and the baby at the same time…it’ll be beautiful,” Esme said to ease the tension. She reached across the table to hold your hands as you nod in agreement.
“Of course...I wouldn’t imagine it any other way,”
You knew how it was going to go. You didn’t want to make it sound so technical but you found yourself becoming head over heels for Thomas Shelby every passing day. You had no way in telling of he began to feel the same way towards you. Yeah, the kind gestures could be a clear indication, but you knew how closed off Thomas was. And how slick men could be with their words. One day they would say they loved you and you were the light of their lives, but the next they hurt you in every possible way. So, in that case, neither of you had said it yet. And you were going to keep it that way until you knew for sure.
Was it love? You had no idea yet.
You reached your hand under the table and placed your hand on his, sensing his tense manor relax for a moment. You glanced at him and flashed him a small smile.
After meeting John, Esme had told you about the rest of the Shelby family. The ones you had dreaded to meet. Arthur, Ada, and Polly. They were as cut-throat as they could get.
You tried to hold off that day for as long as you could.
---
Tag List:
Read Pinned Post If You Would Like To Be Added
@violet-19999 @micarinitodemiel @dilfsandtherapy @shelundeadxxxx @dragons-are-my-favorite @trixie23
#PeakyBlinders#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#thomas shelby#Tommy Shelby#tommyshelbyxreader#tommyshelbyxlizziestark#Arthur Shelby#John Shelby#Esme Shelby#polly shelby#polly gray#ada shelby#Alfie Solomons#alfie solomons x reader#Lizzie Stark#grace burgess#angst and hurt/comfort#Emotional Hurt/Comfort#eventual smut#eventual relationship#One Night Stand#x reader#afab reader#reader insert#strangers to lovers#tw infidelity#tw abortion#male manipulator#unplanned pregnancy
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reading inky mystery
good morning y’all, it is currently 3AM right now and i have developed some very strong opinions about inky mystery that i need to projectile vomit onto the internet. this is gonna be like a book review so i have some disclaimers/warnings:
#1: this “review” is not intended for the author, TAP, or anyone directly involved with the writing of IM. this is readers-only!
#3: i will most likely say very few positive things about the fic so if you don’t want to see negative remarks about your fav fic/story, maybe don’t read this. and also if you can’t handle strong language.
#4: i have not read all of IM, and there is a reason why. i will explain later on but i don’t need anyone to try and avoid spoilers. i don’t care for this fic enough to worry about that. talk to your heart’s content, i want to hear what y’all have to say!!!!
#5: i still enjoy inky mystery and its concepts and the overall story ideas. i think it’s fun and a cool spin on the original qftim au (an au that had so much potential and such shitty execution) and love how the fic has created an entire community around it! don’t get this twisted, i got nothing against IM or TAP.
now i’m gonna put the “review” (more like a rant) under a cut so as to not take up space on people’s dashes more than i already have lol—have fun!!
with such an interesting and promising premise, inky mystery has so far been a frustrating disappointment. i started reading it a while ago (had to stop because of school) and picked up again last night, hoping to get further into the fic and reach the parts that seem to be much more compelling than the exposition. i’m only on chapter 20 and already want to just stop reading it altogether. the more i progress through this the more i think to myself, “is this fic even worth reading 2.5 million words and 335 chapters?” as i’ve come to the beginning of chapter 21, i’m starting to think it most definitely is not.
obviously the biggest criticism is the length. there is absolutely no reason for why this fic is like 3 times longer than the fucking BIBLE. twelve “books” for what? to leave us in the same spot of the plot for the fifth time in a row when the conflict could have been resolved in almost half a chapter? the over-explanation of everything and the placement of practically useless dialogue is excruciating. i don’t understand how having chapter long bits of the warner shenanigans was necessary; i get it was meant for comedy but i don’t think they should dragged any longer than like a paragraph. their dialogue gets old incredibly fast, and it’s just a hinder to the fic’s flow. and before anyone says anything—I HAVE WATCHED ANIMANIACS BEFORE. in fact, i used to be obsessed with them and watched every episode until it stopped airing in 2014. i know they’re supposed to be the way they are in the fic but Holy SHIT DUDE. SHUT THEM THE FUCK UP ALREADY.
listen. i know this was originally written in 2017, but if you’re still updating this into 2024, at this point you need to remake the whole fic and shorten it. the way the author is updating the fic with basically filler makes me feel like they care more about creating content for their readers rather than actually writing a coherent narrative. you don’t need to take down the OG fic but there has got to be a way to shorten it so it doesn’t take literally a week straight to finish the fic in one sitting.
anyways. apart from that, i need to say that the writing style is so juvenile in a way that feels aggravating. i read the most recent chapter to see if anything changed and while it certainly improved in small ways, i feel like TAP still hasn’t learned how to not make sentences like four words long and dialogue sequences that don’t make up half the chapter. i also feel like the narrative is just…holding the readers hand and explaining every little thing like they expect the reader not to have any media literacy at all. i don’t need to know explicitly that boris and bendy are tired from walking for hours, i knew that from your narration mentioning their legs aching and them getting mucky from clambering in the forest.
next, i hate the random inclusion of unnecessary characters. the way the two detectives seem to only show up when it’s convenient and how the warners were used basically like a deus ex machina is frustrating. don’t introduce so many characters with so much detail and then have them show up like twice. i don’t know how to explain this because it’s almost 4AM now and my brain is foggy but god. when those two fox characters were randomly introduced at the end of idk what chapter to have a completely useless conversation with the detectives i felt so annoyed. i don’t know if they have any real significance later on in the story (and i don’t mean that they show up to say hi later) and honestly i cannot be bothered to find out if they do, but if they don’t, that entire section of the chapter was fucking stupid. let your MAIN CHARACTERS learn information from other sources for the love of god.
in the end, i don’t know if i’ll ever finish Inky Mystery, at least not anytime soon. i had fun at the start and now i’m just annoyed and frustrated. also, to the wiki people, PLEASE MAKE CHAPTER SUMMARIES AND SHIT—IT WOULD BE A DREAM FOR THOSE OF US WHO DON’T WANT TO SIT THROUGH 2.5 MILLION WORDS FOR PLOT AND STORY!!!!
also, i am not claiming to be a better writer or have superior knowledge to TAP. i think TAP is good at writing, but has some flaws that really limit their full potential. i myself am an amateur writer with no training or anything, but i am a reader, so that’s why i’m yapping.
ALSO ALSO, i am not doing this to shit on TAP or IM or anyone who likes this story and everything. like i said, i actually like IM and really want to get into it so i can make fanart and everything, but it has been a struggle and i want to voice that because this is my blog and i use it like a virtual diary. i will continue to skim and push through IM, and will most definitely use it as a learning tool for my own au, SITP.
again, this review was made with zero malice in mind. however if anyone wants to say anything i’m 100% open to conversation, and if this reaches TAP’s screen somehow, please know i’m not trying to be a hater!!! i love your ideas and the community you’ve created, promise!!!! i’m done now cus i’m tired and need to sleep so bye to anybody who read through this beast of a post lol plus i don’t have the energy to write all i wanted to say. sorry if there’s any mistakes i’m falling asleep as i write LMAO
bye!!!!!!
#mud.txt#fic review#babitim#bendy and boris in the inky mystery#the inky mystery#babqftim#qftim#bendy and boris quest for the ink machine#quest for the ink machine
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@cassianappreciationweek
Day Two: Gentle ⚔︎ When it comes to those he cares about, we all know Cassian has a big heart (and big hands). How do you think he shows his gentle nature to those around him?
I'll be surprised if I end up being the only one to say cleaning and cooking.
To be honest, maybe I'm projecting a bit: my dad spent a year in the military, back when men got drafted at 18 if they couldn't prove they were either still studying or already working, and then transferred to the Carabinieri police force (we're Italians) in which he's been serving the country for more than 30 years. And I swear, the military discipline, organization skills, and attention to detail he uses when cleaning and cooking are just out of this world.
(He taught me his ways, and on the rare occasion when mom is home and wants to clean—she works more hours than dad does—we're always annoyed with her methods, as they don't align with ours. We eyeroll at each other, it's fun.)
I know Cassian didn't have the same upbringing as my dad, but I can't help but draw some parallels between them, and picture Cassian as the kind of guy who dutifully makes his bed in the morning and makes it look like he's ironed the sheets because there's not a single crease.
Also, Cassian can canonically cook, and I'm hot for men who can provide for themselves.
I know that, in canon, he reaches out his hand to both Feyre and Nesta (and Gwyn, and Emerie, and the priestesses, and literally everyone) by offering to train them, but I can also see him doing the dishes after a dinner at a friend's house or cooking a takeout meal so his loved ones can have something warm to eat at work. I wrote a lil' piece about him stress-cleaning for shits and giggles (and because I thought I needed to add some filler words to a chapter which eventually ended up being 11k words long, but in my defense, I just had to slander Madja's medical malpractice), and now I can't chase that image out of my head...
(Nesta would totally dress him in a sexy maid outfit and have him parade around the house half-naked. Tell me she wouldn't.)
I'm never gonna stop saying that he's the most emotionally mature and emotionally intelligent male character in ACoTaR (or character in general, with no distinction of gender), and I'm tired of people labeling him as a big ol' stupid oaf, as one-dimensional, as comic relief, as undeserving of Nesta, as subjected to Rhysand's every whim as though he didn't have a brain, or all the other BS I've heard or read about him even in this appreciation week.
Cassian should be appreciated year-round.
End of rant.
#cassianappreciationweek2023#nessian#cassian acotar#nesta x cassian#nesta acotar#nesta archeron#nessian fanfiction#read on ao3#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3#writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#my writing#sarah j maas#sarah j. maas#sjm#sjmaas#acotar#acosf#a court of thorns and roses#a03 fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic
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6 | An ‘Accident’
Joffrey Baratheon x Semi OC!Reader
(Y/n) Beaumont
Warnings: none
Words: 714
A/n: This one’s a bit shorter, it’s more of a filler 🕺🏻
ALL CHAPTERS
“Hurry up!”
“I’m wearing a dress! I can only run so fast!”
To speed up the young girl, Summer pulled (Y/n) by her skirts towards Bran who was a few feet ahead.
“Remember what your mother said,” Called (Y/n) as she followed behind, “you shouldn’t be climbing.”
Bran turned around and stopped, almost causing (Y/n) to bump into him, “But you’re the fun one.”
“The ‘fun one’?” Laughed (Y/n), allowing Bran to take her hand and lead her towards a tower nearby.
“You always let me do all the fun things, and you’re the nicest to me, and you give Summer extra treats, that’s why he likes you so much.”
Summer nuzzled under (Y/n) skirts and barked affectionately.
“Still,” protested the Rose, “I’d hate for you to hurt yourself.” She placed her hands on either side of his face and tucked his hair behind his ear.
“So, please, Little Lord, don’t do anything stupid. Okay?”
He looked to the ground and pouted, “Okay…”
“Liar.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
She whisked him up into her arms and began to tickle him, a flurry of giggles escaping the boy.
“Okay! Okay! I promise.”
“Good.” She placed him back on the floor before turning at the sound of her voice being called.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” She said to Bran as he wandered off, Summer in tow, before making her way to whoever had called her name.
“(Y/n)!”
The owner of the voice had made himself known - her father.
“Yes?” She replied, making her way over.
“Did you speak with Joffrey?” He asked, a hint of excitement in his tone.
“Yes. For a moment. Why do you-”
He cut her off, pulling her around a pillar and away from prying eyes, “The King was talking about you, about rethinking the engagement. He said that Joffrey had tried to sway him.”
(Y/n)’s eyes widened, “Really?”
“Really! Now, you must be careful, continue as you are and-”
“Marcus!” Yelled Robert from across the courtyard, “Hurry up!”
“Coming, Your Grace!” He yelled back, the group prepared for the hunt were waiting patiently for his return.
“When we arrive at King’s Landing, we will secure this engagement, I assure you. I have people within the court willing to help.” Her father began to explain, “As I understand it, you will arrive a day or so before me. A man will be waiting for you - Petyr. You can find him when you get there.”
“Is he to be trusted with such a sensitive task?” She asked.
“No.” Marcus replied bluntly, “But that’s why he’s perfect; he has no loyalties. Use his services wisely.”
“Marcus!”
“I have to go, Little Rose.” He placed a chaste kiss to her head and mounted his horse, “Remember, eat or be eaten.”
She nodded and repeated, “Eat or be eaten.”
Marcus, smiling proudly, began to ride towards the hunting party, “That’s my girl.”
It was only as she turned the corner and made her way back towards the tower that (Y/n)’s smile was wiped off of her face.
“Oh, my Gods!” She gasped and let out a small scream, running as fast as she could towards the small boy currently lying on the ground motionless.
Summer was whimpering and bounded over to (Y/n) jumping up at her and pulling on her dress.
“No, no, no.” (Y/n) gently laid Bran’s head in her lap, not minding the blood slowly soaking her skirts expensive material.
She brushed the hair away from his face and searched for a pulse at his neck, a small breath of relief leaving her as she found one. It would be no use for her to yell for help as they were too far away and she feared leaving him alone. After a moment of contemplation, (Y/n) stood and picked him up, carrying him as carefully as she could. He had grown since she'd last cradled him as she was, but her fear had given her the strength to do so, Summer running ahead of them to alert someone - anyone.
"You'll be okay, My Little Love, don't worry." It was more to calm herself down than the small boy, she wasn't even sure if she could hear him.
"I'm here."
She brushed the hair away from his face and searched for a pulse at his neck, a small breath of relief leaving her as she found one. It would be no use for her to yell for help as they were too far away and she feared leaving him alone. After a moment of contemplation, (Y/n) stood and picked him up, carrying him as carefully as she could. He had grown since she’d last cradled him as she was, but her fear had given her the strength to do so, Summer running ahead of them to alert someone - anyone.
“You’ll be okay, My Little Love, don’t worry.” It was more to calm herself down than the small boy, she wasn’t even sure if she could hear him.
“I’m here.”
#fanfic#game of thrones#game of thrones fanfiction#joffrey baratheon#joffrey baratheon x reader#joffrey x reader#joffrey lannister x reader#joffrey lannister#x reader#bran stark
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Limerence: The Masterpost ☆
I couldn't miss the opportunity for another canon-flavoured masterpost, so here I go again with Limerence. This collection is a prequel to Homecoming, so if you're not ready to say goodbye, by all means, carry on! The structure remains: above the cut lies links, and below lurks a prompt breakdown where I attempt to justify everything that just happened. Onward!
Tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Read it on AO3 ▶
Previous Masterposts: Homecoming〡Evermore
This is your rest stop. Beyond the Keep Reading banner are many words and manga caps for those with a vested interest in Inuyasha headcanons/meta/anecdotes. Snacks applicable!
The Personal Bit ☆
ALRIGHT, masks off besties. Are they your OTP? Cause they’re my OTP too, and we should consider bursting into flames about it together (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥
I didn't think I’d participate with writing this year, until about a week before the event, when I was frying-panned with some notions. As a fellow bearer of the curse, it started with a seedling of Kagome looking out for Inuyasha in the modern era, whether she realised it or not and even if, logically, she knew better, and snowballed from there. So, I blasted through each prompt with the intention of keeping them short, and after a survey back, each chapter grew deceptively longer, and I thought: why not add a stair [100 words] to Kagome's case for each day?
This particular canon universe is approached thusly: the prompt is the starting point, and the characters do the rest. I don't control the narrative, the narrative controls me, type thing. Hence, chapters are plot-negative, and times skips are abundant. Anyway. Enough waxing!
Note: I am working with the Viz English translation of the Inuyasha manga with some anime filler for seasoning, and the timeframe for the 3-year separation falls loosely between 1998-2001.
Final Note: Limerence spoilers start here.
Prompt Breakdown ☆
Day 1: Love Language(s)
Summary: Kagome's been distracted. Or, I hc that Kagome spent a good amount of time away with the fairies (and trying to catch up with school) when she first got back.
Thoughts and Feels:
Love Language(s) were coined in 1992; the likelihood of them being such a commonly adopted phrase/ideology was as slim as Kagome knowing what her friends were going on about. They're a relatively new conception of navigating romance, but that doesn't mean buzzwords didn't make it into those teen mags we remember so well, though! Point for fuck it we ball!
For better or worse, friends are gonna be a tad nosy, and Kagome’s definitely were. Consistently and without fail:
Chapter 23, Volume 3, Mask of Flesh ☆
—and how else to feel her “snapping back into the room” in 100 words, if not when confronted with mathematics?
Chapter 411, Volume 42, The Kind One ☆
Fun Fact: There is a small high chance I spent the most time on this one overall because trying to spin a tale in 100 words is wild.
Day 2: Possession
Summary: Kagome acts on impulse. Or, I hc that uncanny resemblances might ruin a girl's day out.
Thoughts and Feels:
Okay, yeah, okay, technically the baseball cap didn't happen in the manga. But this is why filler episodes are good for the ecosystem, or something.
Shock can have a lot of side effects. Confusion, agitation, complete and utter lack of personal or road safety (to name a few), and in Kagome's case here, shoving Inuyasha-shaped familiarity under her nose when she least expected it had her acting up, because not only has the well been sealed off for X time, she was used to him acting up whenever he stepped foot in the modern era:
Chapter 392, Volume 40, A Peaceful Meal ☆
Her friends still care, though! Cause that's what friends are for! As wild of a creature as Kagome can be, they're aware of her “struggles” with her health, and are oddly used to her odd ways:
Chapter 35, Volume 4, A Little Imp ☆
Fun Fact: I rewrote that last line, like, 7 times. The free writing tag is actually fake news.
Day 3: Safe
Summary: Kagome's has a nightmare. Or, I hc that a brave face doesn't do much when she's at her most vulnerable.
Thoughts and Feels:
If you've ever had nightmares/night terrors/sleep paralysis, you'll know how, well, terrifying they can be. Lucid states between sleep and wakefulness has a nasty way of warping perceptions, and with everything Kagome witnessed, her dreamscapes had to be vivid, especially after her stint in the jewel, where reality and fantasy blurred real bad, and what's worse, it taunted her about it:
Chapter 554, Volume 56, High School Life ☆
To further that point, Inuyasha gets brutal - beheadings, graphic slaughterings (sometimes at the hands of an MC eheh), you know, justgirlythings - and therefore toned down for television, as anime adaptations often are. Kagome was 15, and while she did that, it would leave a mark. Trauma, guys. We're talking about trauma now.
If the reference was caught during her tiny tale: the scene with Mama H being shook to fuck over her baby glowing is anime-only, but I really dig the idea that she knew something was up with Kagome from Day 0, really aided in reasoning why she was so okay with her daughter doing all that, thank you for understanding. Another point for filler!
Fun Fact: I…barely remember writing this one, actually, truly, read it back a week later like: don't know her. I love her like any proud mother, though!
Day 4: Modern
Summary: Kagome asks a question she doesn’t like the answer to. Or, I hc that curiosity killed the cat.
Thoughts and Feels:
The trickiest one, in terms of setting. I spent too much time looking into the availability and flavours of historical records in Tokyo (particularly 2000ish, bc digital archives weren't that hot then) and came to the conclusion that while yes, it was possible for her to gain access to [something], no, it wasn't very likely she'd come across any death records, (specifically Koseki) for her friends, with the added bonus that family names are notably lacking until 1868. But take Kagome's resourcefulness + Japan's love for paperwork, and it led me here – to some kinda fake archive with fake books and fake names that could potentially be somebody that she used to know. And while I try my best to be respectful of the people and the setting I'm writing within, I asked myself bluntly, if I really gave a fuck about being accurate in this regard/fictional setting, and the answer was also: no. There isn't a Sunset Shrine either, so a fictional National Archives with The Right Documents there shall be.
Of all the Fuedal-Inuyasha characters, I feel like Sango is the one that would have Done Something to leave a mark, somewhere written on paper. You know...Badass Women For Agriculture Union [codeword for demon slaying], something. Yeah, Miroku was a holy man, but we're not talking about history right now, we're talking about Herstory.
And finally, that moment. The one where Kagome almost cracked and unleashed self-inflicted rage on some guy, cause time didn't cease to exist for them. The thing about Kagome, apart from her being an all round great character, is that she isn't tame, nor timid, and certainly no shrinking violet. But where she's brash and loud and (sometimes) quick to anger, she's also kind. And reasonable, and at the core, a wonderful person, and that duality is what makes her so lovable, relatable, and fun to write. Lookit her:
Chapter 175, Volume 185, Where They First Met ☆
Fun Fact: I really wanted to point out that Kagome was supposed to be in her high school uniform, but writing restriction said naur. Irrelevant. Also, this is my favourite chapter. Weird, right? Haha?
Day 5: Heat
Summary: Kagome hears a bump in the night. Or, I hc that stranger things have occurred than a random bout of sleepwalking while living with PTID (Post Traumatic Isekai Disorder).
Thoughts and Feels:
There was a small blip in time where this chapter skewed Mature. Explicit, even. Something about imagining a certain someone in a compromising position, but then the wind changed direction, and I went for literal heat. Japanese summers are stifling, and heat...is hot. Ace card, go!
Lunar charts and such: they don't add up when you compare two points in time, 500 years apart. But there could still be some peculiar celestial moon stuff that led a sleep-deprived Kagome to have a gander at the moon, especially when it's new.
Chapter 140, Volume 15, The Other Side of the Well ☆
Inuyasha had a brilliant way of turning up when she least expected him, or staying away when she wanted to see him the most. There are little things that happen, like an open window or remnants of a dream that might stay with her upon waking, to lead her to think-maybe it was him?
Chapter 287, Volume 29, Mimisenri ☆
BEHIND THE SCENES REVEAL: Kagome was the one who opened her door and tried to feed the cat, but it didn't work, because sleepwalkers are silly. Easter Eggy Subtext: Buyo is the catalyst, but Kagome is the key. Think about it.
Chapter 494, Volume 50, Two Worlds ☆
Day 6: Courting
Summary: Kagome tries her best. Or, I hc that Kagome gives it the old college effort, a la jewel illusion.
Thoughts and Feels:
Kagome's family want the best for her. Kagome's friends are boy-crazy hen-peckers. Hojo is cute, and has always shown an interest in Kagome. Therefore: it would be wild to assume she didn't at least say yes, once, to going out with him, even if she knew it really wasn't going to go anywhere:
Chapter 140, Volume 15, The Other Side of the Well ☆
Sometimes you have to do things to understand how much you don't want to do that thing. At this point in time, Kagome's coming up for graduation, she's spent almost 3 years dealing with everything that happened to her, and she's not a complete tool. However, the mind wanders, especially when you'd rather someone else's company:
Chapter 69, Volume 8, Sensing Presences ☆
She's going to give the modern era one last shot – because while romance isn't everything, it can be part of something – before throwing in the towel and saying fuck it, I tried. And as Kagome's will Kagome, she'd want to make an effort for the sake of others:
Chapter 35, Volume 4, A Little Imp ☆
Fun Fact: This chapter (and the next) ended up floating around 1.5K at first draft. I'd like to formally apologise to the words lost in transit, you will be missed.
Day 7: Smile
Summary: Kagome comes home. Or, I hc that Kagome finally puts her wants, needs and feelings first, and those might suspiciously man-shaped.
Thoughts and Feels:
Yeahyeah, the “I never thought I'd write this”, we've all seen it. But it's true! Never thought I'd write a chapter retelling, and this one is that fact's poster child. They aren't my bag (to read or to write) but the ending was there all along, obviously:
Chapter 494, Volume 50, Two Worlds ☆
The right wish, the wrong wish, a selfish wish, a selfless wish – as many Isekai's go, wish fulfilment is a huge part of the narrative (not just for Kagome, but so many of the characters) but she, unlike others, had a huge weight on her shoulders about making the right one that I wanted to tease out that moment where she gets it:
Awfully familiar cap is familiar, Chapter 558, Volume 56, Tomorrow ☆
Are you sure you're supposed to be there, Miss Thing? Life doesn't end just because you finished a job, or have to feel beholden to a sense of home. Home can be anywhere! Home can be a person! You can do it, bestie. Do it for her! Her is you! Go Kagome!
Chapter 79, The Fruits of Evil ☆
She made her dreams – from acing school, to making her family proud, to seeing Inuyasha again – a reality. There's really nothing more I can say about that, it's all there. She chose herself! And that included him! Ain't that neat!
Fun Fact: In Japanese, Inuyasha calls her a baka. In the scanlation, he calls her an idiot. In the English sub/dub, he calls her an idiot. In the Viz translation (the one I refer to most) he calls her a fool. Imho, in English, he says idiot, cause Inuyasha has zero respect and carries that no-finesse kind of rizz. Bless him.
Bonus Fun Fact: Chapters like this are why I'm such a flaming monster about writing advice being a tool, not a rule. Those last two lines, without the use of But and And at the beginning, would not carry the same weight and timing I wanted to achieve, therefore, you can pry them as sentence starters out of my cold, dead hands.
The End.
Weehee! This could have been way longer (you're thinking how, I'm thinking I'm proud of how restrained I was) but alas, we've reached the end. Thanks again to @inukag-week for hosting the event of all time! I love them sooo much. Sososo much, they're the best little guys 🎉
If you have any questions, comments or concerns, click here to send me an ask! I love not shutting up about them 🛸
ttyl bbs 🤸
#girl help: a novel by yours truly#posts to keep#Limerence#inuyasha x kagome#inukag week 2023#inuyasha fanfiction#inukag fanfic#kagome#kagome higurashi#inuyasha#fanfiction#inu meta#anisaanisaff
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Finally reading the full XY volumes!
For context, XY is my least favorite Pokespe arc, so I decided to give it a second chance hoping that the extra chapters and better art in the full volumes would help me like it more. But did it?
What I liked:
I will say that the extra “filler” chapters really helped pace out the story much better and warmed me up to the characters! The Pokemon-Amie and Super Training chapters in particular. It felt weird not having an explanation in the originals for Y’s Sylveon, let alone an Eevee. This is why I disagree with people nowadays hating filler content. Done right, it helps with character and worldbuilding in small subconscious ways that can help an audience enjoy a story more!
I do enjoy how bold the arc starts, having Vaniville be decimated by the legendaries in the first chapter!
Reading the XY arc chapter-to-chapter and mini volume to mini volume, it felt like X took much longer to even help his friends. Now reading the arc all at once, he feels much less stubborn and selfish, which is good!
Minor thing- removing Y’s nudity is the only instance of censorship in Pokemon Adventures that I actually appreciate. It doesn’t disrupt the plot or make no sense like censoring Green’s Pokeball booby trap, Emerald’s pee joke, or especially Norman and Mirei’s abuse.
Apparently, a lot of the Gurkinn stuff was added in the full volumes? My memory on it’s a bit foggy but that’s wild to me if true- it just feels so plot-important. No wonder I felt the arc was badly-paced on my first readthrough!
Speaking of which, I love that we get chapters dedicated to non-dexholders again! It feels like we last got stuff like that with Keldeo in BW or the Hoenn Gym Leaders!
A lot of the other things I like about XY have been said by most other people already and apply to Pokespe as a whole. Battles are fun and creative, making great use of Pokemon trivia from their dex entries, the leads are unique and well-written compared to the rest of the franchise, there’s a good mix of dark and light themes, and the returning characters are fun and meaningful cameos!
What I disliked still:
It’s still really hard for me to suspend my disbelief that Team Flare managed to silence or arrest everyone who saw the Xerneas-Yveltal battle or its aftermath, especially in the age of the internet.
The gang learning most of the important plot stuff from Team Flare constantly spilling their plans kind of killed some of the tension for me, to be honest. Also them letting all the grunts go instead of capturing them for info or just to turn them over to the authorities.
Sycamore not realizing Lysandre is evil is stupid in any version of XY’s story, I’m sorry.
Team Flare’s brainwashed victims having the “same personalities” felt a bit lazy still. Brainwashing is one of my least favourite tropes though, so I might be biased there.
I think the manga over-corrected with Shauna, Trevor, and Tierno. Instead of all being overly positive and aimless like in the games, being put in constant danger in the manga means they’re all similar levels of scared and stressed, so their personalities don’t stand out all that much either. Shauna especially just being a similar aggressive and serious type like Y, just with less of a backstory. That one weird sexist quip Shauna had in the Sylveon chapter also rubbed me the wrong way, too.
Minor- I still don’t get why Kusaka aged the main cast down from 17/18 to 12 in this arc. It just makes X and Y look like they got hydraulic pressed proportions-wise, and makes the aforementioned scene with Y feel gross.
Speaking of which, why is Clemont drawn SO short in this arc?! He’s normal-sized in the official art and the anime, so that’s another baffling change to me.
Minor- Malva gets her Pyroar back from Aliana after the Diancie chapter where she already has Pyroar- is there something I’m missing here?
While the pacing has vastly improved compared to the mini volumes, it still feels off in the final two volumes. Suddenly taking an intermission from the Ultimate Weapon to introduce Zygarde practically out of nowhere just feels clunky. Compared to the anime where they had both Zygarde and the Megalith planned months in advance with proper foreshadowing. Or a better comparison would be the RS manga, where both evil teams planned on using Groudon and Kyogre from the start, and that’s what we end the series on.
TLDR: Overall I’ve really warmed up on this arc! I had way less confusion reading through it thanks to the extra chapters, and I’ve grown to understand X a bit more as a protagonist. I still have some problems with the arc, namely how the rivals are handled, and how Team Flare is presented as an omnipresent all-controlling shadow government when their members at all levels constantly spill their secrets. If you have any other thoughts, facts, or even disagreements, I’d love to hear them!
I’d say this reread has put XY above B2W2 and maybe SwSh in my ranking of all the arcs, which is still something! Now we all have to wait and see how ORAS’ full volume release changes its place on the rankings, hehe…
#pokespe#pokemon adventures#pokespe xy#trainer x#yvonne gabena#q speaks#review#positivity#negativity
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Drop In-Chapter 7 [P.P.]
Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader
Summary: You like Peter, and Peter likes you. This should be simple, so why isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s because you were already friends? Maybe it’s the stress of senior year? Maybe it’s because someone had to get bit by a spider? Who’s to say?
Word Count: 3.2k words
Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying, Anxiety, Depression,
Some negative body image in this chapter and pretty early on. I’m really tapping into the insecure teen years with this story.
( Previous | Chapter List | Next )
A/N: Homecoming is happening! Football and Mayhem and Peter
Bit of a filler, because it’s gonna get sad and stressful.
also it's midterms and I'm exhausted so I'm sorry but this is very unedited and kinda...dry? I dunno but it's the best I have rn
You looked over your bed, where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has its limitations.
You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case.
Once that was settled, you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game, so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change.
You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours.
As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies, and hope, and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below.
You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with it.
You pulled a deep, centring breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter, you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in, and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments.
“Are you excited?”
His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection.
“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”
He chuckled at your response, remembering his own teenage woes of old.
“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back, and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete, and we just made jokes. At one point, we narrated what we thought the players were thinking as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”
There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited, and he was excited for you.
“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding; we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”
That earned a very loud laugh from your father.
“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”
You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”
You both agreed on the compromise, and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter.
Your father answered it at your request.
“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”
“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”
You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.
“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us, but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off, but they could both come, and then May could get some pictures. If not, I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”
His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad, knowing he was the only one who might care.
“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”
Your father left the bathroom, and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh.
You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside.
You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that, he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind.
There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class; he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you.
You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that orchestrated your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder, yes, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer.
The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from halftime, and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures, and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you, but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often.
Peter was hesitant, but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright, and you were basking in it.
You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting, and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving of your peers while juggling heavy instruments was mesmerising. Then the homecoming court emerged.
A stage was wheeled onto the field, and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event, about the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three pairs from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair.
You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside her passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine.
She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised slightly and wiggled her fingers with enthusiasm. Peter waved back, and you felt your throat tighten ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused, and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again, and you realize she’s talking to you.
“I like your top,” She mouths again.
You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress, but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks.
You go to reprimand him, but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you like that, how could you be mad? All boyish charm and crinkled eyes. You make a face at him, and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at his arm.
This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boy toy hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurance that she looked great. Pete is getting frustrated, and you raise your camera in preparation.
He turns to make a face at you. His eyes are captured mid-roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever immortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to upload it later.
After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and you’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee.
“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief.
“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is a gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweetness- and when fresh, it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scouts can rival what is happening in this tent.”
When you reach the counter to order, you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane, but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barely see over them. Pete takes another photo of you, and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out.
On your way back to the game, you're splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue, and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips, and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autumn hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light.
You’ve made your way back into the “field.” The concessions lines were long, and your beloved tent was well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved, you almost lost Peter in the crowd until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person.
He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety, and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you.
He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again.
“Are you okay?”
You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take- if any- while munching on your sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out.
You looked up at the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling silver metal. But in case you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief.
Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then at the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle, then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion.
“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed.
You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”
He feigned anger, but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell upon the two of you.
“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”
He wrapped his arms dramatically around you both, with his toes barely touching the ground, as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn, and he was delighted to take some.
“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some, but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”
You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your scrumptious snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to Silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here.”
You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at each other sceptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half-eaten, rice-crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together.
He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter.
He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”
Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.”
Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity.
“Nick, dude. I told you we could, next Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”
Nicholas only takes another bite. Defiance drives his every movement. Although, you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.
“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should come back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”
Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. Watching
LOTR high did sound like a fun evening, but it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter.
Still tucked under his arm, it’s hard to hide from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night, but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go; the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing.
“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planning these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.”
Only Nick sounded annoyed by his answer, and for that you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”
You feel his fingers run across your shoulder, and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”
You looked over your bed where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First, was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has limitations. You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case.
Once that was settled you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change. You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours.
As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies and hope and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below.
You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with them.
[maybe describe the dress or sum]
You pulled a deep, centring, breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments.
“Are you excited?”
His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection.
“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”
He chuckled at your response, remembering his teenage woes of old.
“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete and we just made jokes. At one point we narrated the team’s thoughts as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”
There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited and he was excited for you.
“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”
That earned a very loud laugh from your father.
“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”
You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”
You both agreed on the compromise and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter.
Your father answered it at your request.
“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”
“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”
You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.
“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off but they could both come and then May could get some pictures. If not I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”
His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad knowing he was the only one who might care.
“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”
Your father left the bathroom and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh.
You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside.
You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true, that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind.
There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class, he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you.
You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that [souttracked] your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder it’s true, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer.
The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from Halftime and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often.
Peter was hesitant but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright and you were basking in it.
You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving was meserizing. Then the homecoming court emerged.
A stage was wheeled onto the field and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event. About the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair. You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine.
She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised sight and she shook it back and forth with enthusiasm. Peter waved back and you felt your throat tighten, ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again and you realize she’s talking to you.
“I like your top,” She mouths again.
You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks.
You go to reprimand him but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you how could you be mad? All boyish charm and scrinckled eyes. You make a face at him and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at him arm.
This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boytoy, hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurances that she looked great. You raise your camera just in time to catch Peter making a face at you.
His eyes are captured mid roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever imortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to uplaod it later.
After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and You’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee.
“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief
“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweet and when fresh it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scout’s can rival what is happening in this tent.”
When you get up to the counter to order you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than two of your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barley see over them. Pete takes another photo of you and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out.
On your way back to the game your splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autum hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light.
You’ve made your way back into the “field”. The concesions lines were long and your beloved tent was in well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved you almost lost Peter in the crowd, until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person.
He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you. He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again.
“Are you okay?”
You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take, if any, while munching on you sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out.
You look up to the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling metal. But incase you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically, as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief.
Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle and then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion.
“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed.
You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”
He friegned anger but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell apon the two of you.
“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”
He wrapped his arms draumaticly around you both with his toes barely touching the ground as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn and he was delighted to take some.
“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”
You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your delcectible snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here,”
You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at eachother skeptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half eaten, rice crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together.
He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter.
He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”
Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.”
Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity. “Nick, dude. I told you we could Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”
Nicholas only takes another bite. Defieance drives his every movement although you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.
“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should came back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”
Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. While that did sound like a fun evening, it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter.
Still tucked under his arm it’s hard to hid from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go, the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing.
“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planing these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.”
Only Nich sounded annoyed by his answer and for the you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”
You feel his fingers run across your shoulder and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”
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Queen of Nothing (Hotch x Reader) - Chapter Three
A/N: Hi everyone! It’s been a bit of a time since my last chapter, but this one I have been writing little by little after some assignments to keep myself sane. It’s a bit of filler, but ya know it’s a little important, plus there is a bit of a Hotch POV, so I hope you enjoy!
Also finally plugging in the Queen of Nothing playlist on Spotify. It is still a work in progress, and there is a ton of Taylor Swift on it (sorry she just fits the vibe so well)
Chapter Warnings: reader is stalking her target
WC: 1.6k
Chapter Three - It’s Not a War, No, It’s Not a Rapture. I’m Just a Person but You Can’t Take It
“To sin by silence, when they should protest, makes cowards of men.” ― Ella Wheeler Wilcox
His answer was almost a little too quick. The moment he saw the number, he knew it had to be you. He was in his office when he heard the shrill ring of his phone. Digging into his pants pocket, he quickly hit the answer button. You spoke before he even had the chance to say anything. He could feel the corners of his lips tug into a smile, a half chuckle escaping him.
“I was beginning to wonder when you would call,” he started to say, his eyes moving to the window of his office to see Rossi and Reid looking in. They must have heard his phone go off. Nosy, the both of them. His face quickly turned back to its usual scowl, hoping they hadn’t noticed. Reid wouldn’t think anything of it, but Dave…he could already see the smirk on his face.
“Of course I’m free. Let me know where you are staying and I’ll pick you up. 8:00 sound good?” he said, turning his back to the window to keep Spencer from reading his lips.
“Just let me know your place. I don’t mind driving, and knowing you, you will be in the office way later than you should.”
He laughed a little at that, part of him hating that you knew him so well. “I promise I won’t stay too late.”
“I’ve heard that one before.”
Your tone was joking, or at least he thought so. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a little bit of annoyance there too. You always hated when he stayed late, and you were one to hold grudges. “I mean it this time…not too late.”
“I am holding you to it, Aaron.”
He gave you his address and said goodbye, closing his phone and placing it back into his pocket. He was in the process of pulling out one of his notebooks and flipping to a page when he heard a knock on his open door, Rossi slipping in. “Now what was that about? You don’t exactly smile on the phone too much,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.
Hotch’s brows furrowed, a look of annoyance crossing his features. “It really isn’t any of your business,” he said, grabbing a pen but stopping before he could write anything.
“With the look on your face, I’m guessing it’s gonna be my business now?”
“Shut up,” Hotch grumbled, running a hand through his hair. He was supposed to be taking care of Jack tonight…but you were in town, and he didn’t know how long you would be here. Jack would be okay for one night. “I need you to watch Jack for me…just for tonight.”
Rossi laughed, taking a couple of steps into his office and closing the door. “This must be pretty important.”
“An old friend is in town.”
“An old friend? A lady friend maybe?”
“David.”
“What? I get it if you don’t exactly want to put yourself out there, but…listen, it’s been a year and a half. Not saying you have to, I’m just saying you deserve to be happy.” There was an earnestness about Rossi at that moment, one that Hotch couldn’t bring himself to be mad at. Dave was just trying to be a good friend.
“I know, I’m just - I need a little more time.” He hadn’t even told you about Haley yet. The last time the two of you spoke, he wasn’t even officially divorced from her.
“I’ll watch Jack, you go have fun with your friend. And Aaron? Try not to think too hard about it. It just makes things harder.” Rossi opened the door and went back to his office, not giving Aaron a chance to say anything in return. Maybe that was for the best, and maybe he was right. Part of him felt like it was too soon, but the other part missed you. God, he missed you.
Aaron Hotchner wasn’t one to believe in fate, but he was sure you coming back into his life couldn’t be a coincidence.
--
Your hands were gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual. You were distracted, distant from your goal when you shouldn’t be. Of all the outcomes that could have happened with the dice, this is what they chose? It had to be some cruel god which placed Aaron Hotchner right in front of you again after all these years. He was so close, yet his very being was dangerous to your mission. Damn it, why were you so conflicted! You just-
Your thoughts were cut off by a tap at your driver’s side window. An older lady with hair she no longer bothered to color was standing by your car, arms crossed expectantly. Of course. These are the hiccups you run into when doing a stakeout on someone rich. Their neighbors did not take kindly to strangers, and your beat-up car clearly didn’t belong in the neighborhood. You rolled down the window a bit, putting on your best fake smile.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” you said, though she did not seem amused.
“You are loitering,” she said in a shrill, snarky voice. Well, seemed like she was getting right to the point.
“I’m sorry. I needed to take this call and didn’t want to be on the phone while driving,” you said, flashing the burner phone that also obviously didn’t belong in whatever tax bracket her target did.
“Well, the call is over now, so I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
A movement from the house down caught your eye. Shit, that was your guy, and his garage door was opening. If you could just stall this woman long enough for him to leave so you could get his plate numbers.
So you went with the first thing you could think of. “Actually, now that I have you, have you taken a moment to pray to your lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”
She looked more annoyed than confused. Apparently Jehovah’s Witnesses were pretty popular in this area. “I don’t need prophesying from you, I need you to leave,” she snapped. You were playing a tricky game. Keep her confused long enough but not agitate her enough so she would call the cops. Your eyes darted to the house over, seeing the car start to pull out, a shiny black Lexus with perfectly polished rims, so stickers or signs of personality to it. You waited for just a moment, letting it get out into the street.
“Hope god goes easy on your soul,” you said before switching your gear into drive and following your target. Getting a little close to his bumper, you could read just what you needed under the usual Virginia is for Lovers tagline: KCV - 4826
You were going to have to be careful the next time you went to the neighborhood. There was no doubt that old lady was going to complain about you to the HOA, probably send an alert to the neighborhood watch. Which meant you needed to work quickly. You usually tried to get some more information, more dirt, more evidence to assure yourself that the court messed up. That you were doing the right thing. Part of you wanted to drag out it to be able to see Hotch more. The other part told you that you had enough information already, that he was sure to be disposed of.
You left the neighborhood, repeating the license plate number out loud for fear you may forget a number or switch up a letter. The moment you reached the shitty motel, you grabbed the pen and paper from your bedside table, scribbling down the license plate to fully commit it to memory. Your original plan was to tail Christian for a bit, see what he was up to and if you could gauge anything from the places he visited. That was cut a bit short by his neighbor, but you would make do. You always did.
You opened your laptop, an old, worn-to-hell thing you were surprised still ran. You wiped it clean often, kept it off the grid as much as possible. You were thankful you were at least a little interested in hacking while working for the BAU. That and Garcia always had great snacks. You would sit in her office, listen to her ramble about her work and ask questions occasionally. She would give you tips on how to best secure your IP, your data, and everything else. I bet she didn’t think her knowledge would be used for this, you thought to yourself as you typed in the letters and numbers. Usually, a plate number could only get you things that didn’t help much like accident or repossession histories, but you went the back way and paid for some…less than ethical systems to help get access to more things. Sometimes you just had to fight dirty to get the right thing done.
In your digging, you had gathered a decent bit of information about Christian and his disappeared wife, but part of you still felt like you didn’t have enough, and there was only so much the internet could provide. You were going to have to do some actual scouting, but not tonight. You had dinner with a certain someone planned. Remembering that, you turned your head to the poor analog clock on the wall.
6:48
Shit.
Maybe the clock was wrong, but when you looked at what your laptop and then burner phone said, you found it to be true. You cursed to yourself, getting up and shutting your laptop closed. You would not be late to this dinner because if you were, Aaron would never let you live it down. You just pray you can show quickly enough to make yourself presentable. And prayed he couldn’t see the cards you had hidden up your sleeve.
Chapter Two Chapter Four
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