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melodygatesauthor · 8 months

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Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Three - The Therapist

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

Summary: I arrived in a different universe, and in this one you’re a therapist. I saw your name on one of the doors when the orderlies were dragging me down the hall to a cell. I guess luck was on my side, I wouldn’t have to search very far for you this time, not that I would’ve been given a chance anyway. When the orderlies saw me, I think I scared them and they thought I was delusional. They took my watch, I’ll have to get that back…but I have to find you first.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 3.8k

It was a morning like every other.

You pulled into the parking lot of the Lennox House for the Mentally Insane, coffee in hand, ready to start your day. You loved your job as a therapist, especially when you felt like everything was in order. You had a good handle on your patients, all of them making good progress on their goals; nothing felt more rewarding as a mental health provider.

But you weren’t prepared for the wrench the unsuspecting six foot nine man was about to throw your way.

You wondered if your success was the reason you were assigned the new and highly delusional patient. After getting into your office and pulling out his nearly empty file, you looked at him from across your desk, his eyes calm, but unsettlingly trained on you. He had a slight smirk curling at the corners of his lips, as though he were trying to appear less intimidating. His size alone was enough to make any sane person quiver. He didn’t even try to tug on his restraints though, and that put you a little more at ease.

“Miguel O’Hara…” you said, closing the thin manila folder in front of you. “It’s nice to meet you I’m–”

“I know your name.”

Miguel sat, strapped uselessly to the wheelchair the orderlies had brought him in. He knew he could rip the restraints off at any given moment, but when he’d heard he was being assigned to you as his therapist, he decided to behave. He needed to see you; he needed to talk to you.

This was a change of pace. In his universe, you were a graphic designer. It was something you’d always enjoyed. In the second one, despite working at a coffee shop, you still seemed to have a hobby of creating artwork for some side income. Now you were a therapist. It was unexpected, but in the multiverse, anything was possible. Miguel was just glad that it seemed like in this universe, you’d never met him before, making this a lot easier - he didn’t have to worry about eliminating his alternate -.

“The orderlies said that you were wandering the halls when they found you? They said that when you saw my name you specifically asked for me to treat you. Why?” You crossed your legs and narrowed your eyes at the man.

You were careful while talking to this one. He was massive in size, not only in his height, but this man wasn’t skipping arm day, that’s for sure. You trusted him, despite being told not to trust patients - they can be manipulative - but you knew he was strong enough to rip his arms from the restraints at any given moment, and yet he sat there. To say you were intrigued was an understatement. Who was this man? And how did he know you?

After wasting so much time in the last universe, he wanted to change his approach. He wanted to try being more direct and honest with you. With a deep sigh, he pressed his lips together and looked you in the eye. You looked good all dressed up in your little pencil skirt and white blouse. He’d never seen you in a lip color that shade of red, but he liked it. Even if you weren’t quite the same, he liked the way you looked in this universe.

“Because, I traveled a long way to find you mi vida,” he started, smirking at you rather pathetically, but he was desperate for you to understand, “and I’m going to tell you why you’re going to take these restraints off my wrists and say yes when I ask you to marry me.”

Your patients had said some crazy shit before. Being in an insane asylum, even a minimum security one, naturally you would expect to hear some outlandish things, but that had to be the most delusional thing you’d heard to date. You furrowed your brow, continuing to take notes. You hummed in amusement.

“You’re very bold, Mr. O’Hara–”

“Miguel.”

“Miguel.” You cleared your throat, smirking in an attempt to show that you weren’t fazed by his surprising statement, “you’ve piqued my curiosity, but I’m certainly not sure why you think I would do that.”

“Ask me.”

“Ask you what?” You asked, scribbling more notes on your legal pad.

“Ask me how I became so wracked with grief that I created a device to travel the multiverse just so I could find you again,” he said, eyes darting between yours to see if you believed a word coming out of his mouth.

You were stunned. You’d seen patients in a catatonic state, but this wasn’t like that, he was far too clear as he spoke. This also didn’t present as the usual schizophrenic case you would expect to see from the majority of your patients. He was completely calm, making eye contact, and very direct in his line of thinking. He was either so deep in his delusion that he genuinely believed everything coming out of his mouth…or he was telling the truth.

“Miguel, why don’t you tell me more about how you got here, let’s start with that.”

Redirection didn’t always work, but if you could find a crack in his story, you might be able to get him back to a basis in reality.

“I used my watch, the one that security took from me. Gonna need that back by the way, very dangerous if it gets into the wrong hands.” He leaned forward a little, eyes narrowing on you. “I used my watch to travel from a universe where you were a barista with a piss poor attitude, to this one where you’re a therapist apparently.”

You scoffed, “I was a barista?”

Miguel could tell you weren’t buying it, so he decided to be more direct now.

“Listen, I’m looking for the universe where you don’t die,” he watched your expression to see how you’d react.

Regardless of how delusional he sounded, something like that would make anyone feel a bit uneasy. You shifted in your chair, putting your pen down on the desk. Miguel’s expression softened, likely seeing that his words had an effect on you. After all the years of you being a therapist, you’d never let a patient make you uncomfortable like that.

“I think that’s enough for today,” you said, standing up and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Miguel yelled, wheelchair creaking forward a smidge when his body lurched to try and stop you. It worked. You turned and looked at him. “You have to believe me. I’m just trying to keep you alive. If you don’t listen to me…you’ll die.”

“Goodbye, Mr. O’Hara,” you said, opening your office door. “You’re going to be reassigned to a different therapist. I don’t think I’m a good fit for you.”

“No no no, wait!” He pulled his hands free from the restraints, something you both knew he was capable of.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, “Help!” You yelled, only resulting in his strong hand covering your mouth quickly.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk,” he said, voice trembling in desperation.

You looked terrified, and rightfully so. This huge man that you’d never met before was towering over you, staring at you with such intensity, you thought you might faint in terror. He took his hand off your mouth and held a finger to his lips.

“Shh, mi vida, por favor,” he spoke softly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“G-go sit down in your chair n-now,” you said, legs shaking wildly.

He put his hands up in surrender, showing you that he was willing to comply with your request. He walked over and sat down in his chair, the weight of his body forcing the equipment to sigh under his frame. There was a silence in the room, a silence that made it easy to hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You took a deep breath.

Miguel recognized that face, you were going to run. He sighed, he’d tried a different approach this time, and it didn’t pay off. Instead, his attempt had you rushing out into the hall, shouting for an orderly or two to help you. He didn’t fight them when they ran in, sticking him with a couple of syringes, being too massive for only one to do the job.

You didn’t stop thinking about him for the entire night. His words rang through your mind like a broken record:

‘I’m looking for the universe where you don’t die’.

No matter how hard you tried to shake it from your mind, it was impossible. For a week you managed to avoid talking to him again, but your curiosity - or perhaps it was your anxiety -, got the better of you. Your co-worker, and the patient coordinator, Stacy, spoke to you exactly one week after you’d last spoken to Miguel.

“He’s still asking for you every day,” she said, handing you his chart, “Dr. Harrow doesn’t want to work with him anymore, says he’s not getting anywhere with Mr. O’Hara.”

You took his file from her hands, looking it over, “So you put him back in there with me, knowing how dangerous he is and that he’s targeting me? That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

She followed you down the hall as you walked, “I said that, but the higher ups insisted that you should see him. They gave him more sedatives and stronger restraints than last time so–”

“So nothing, I can’t believe they’d do this,” you said, tone laced in frustration.

You weren’t sure if you were upset because you were worried he was going to physically harm you, or if you were worried that there was validity to the words that had kept you up every night for the last several nights. You stopped in front of your office door, letting out a deep exhale. Stacy touched your back, patting it gently.

“Well, at least he’s hot.” She chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at her before opening the door and stepping into your office. There he was, sitting in the chair, eyes hooded from the sedatives when he looked up at you. His restraints were doubled, both his legs and wrists tied down with metal this time, rather than the flimsy leather from before. You felt a little better, but you were still afraid of what he might say. No patient of yours had ever been so direct when targeting you before.

“Hello again Mr. O’Har–”

“Miguel…or you can just call me ‘baby’, the way you used to,” he said, words coming out in a slow drawl due to his mentally inhibited state.

“Miguel…” you said with a sigh, “I’ll continue to treat you, but you need to be more appropriate when you speak to me or you’ll have to seek treatment elsewhere.”

“Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sounded genuine, eyes looking up at you from under his lashes. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting your unease, so you nodded with a meek ‘thanks’, before sitting down behind your desk. He leaned over and wiped his drool slick lips on his shoulder, unsuccessful in cleaning the mess. Inappropriate as it may have been, you weren’t going to let the poor guy sit there in a mess like that.

You took a tissue and walked over to him. Miguel couldn’t believe you would touch him, not after the way he’d frightened you. He thought this version of you would be impossible to get through to after his first interaction with you, but perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps being blunt with you was going to work after all.

You held the tissue in your hand and wiped his lips. You damned yourself for mentally commenting on how soft they looked. With a shaky breath, you finished and sat back down at your desk. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You didn’t want to talk to anyone else so…go ahead…talk,” you took out a notebook and a pen, waiting for him to start.

“Was that Stacy? Or maybe it was Mira?” He chuckled, watching your eyes flick up quickly to lock onto his.

“So you saw my co-worker’s name plate at some point, I presume? Who let you walk by the front desk of the asylum?” You asked, feeling a pit of unease forming in your stomach at his mention of your two closest friends and coworkers.

He shrugged, “I saw Stacy’s yes, is Mira not your co-worker in this universe?”

He could see you getting anxious. You always clicked your pen incessantly when you did, back in his universe. He wasn’t trying to make you feel crazy, but rather, he was trying to make you realize that he was sane. Finally, you looked at him again.

“M-Mira used to work here, but how do you know–”

“What about Emily? Your step sister…”

“No…no, no, no…” you got up quickly, heading for the door.

Miguel called your name, and you stopped, turning slowly to face him.

“I’m not trying to scare you, mi vida, I’m trying to save your life. If you would…please…entertain me for just a moment.” He rattled his wrists in his chair. “I couldn’t do anything to hurt you even if I wanted to. I’m fucking…I’m drooling on myself and I’m stuck to this damn chair.”

You stared at him for a while, considering your options. If he was insane, which was the most likely explanation, then helping him through this was your duty as a therapist. If he was telling the truth…you needed to try and figure out what he meant anyway. No matter which way you sliced it, the only way you could sleep at night would be to hear him out. You slowly walked back to your desk and sat down. When you picked your pen back up you realized that you were shaking.

“Have you been stalking me?” You asked bluntly.

“No,” he returned your tone. “I know you, I know you well, and if you’ll hear me out with an open mind for just a second, I can explain everything to you.”

You gestured with your arms to give him the floor. He nodded, thanking you in Spanish before letting out a deep sigh.

Miguel told you everything, from the day you first met in his universe to the day you died. He talked in depth about things in your life that he knew only you would know. He damned himself for crying while he explained how much he loved you. Then he went on to tell you about the second universe, where you worked at a quaint little coffee shop barista, but he didn’t express the same emotion toward that version of you as he had the first.

When he was done, you sat there in awe, doing your best to process. Not only did you believe his every word, you were trying not to fall into an existential crisis upon learning that the multiverse might actually exist. You gulped, reminding yourself quickly that if a patient is delusional enough, they can tell a lie and still pass a polygraph test. All it takes is for them to believe that lie to be true with all their heart. If he was a good enough stalker, he could easily be making all of this up, and combined with heavy delusions, you had a recipe for someone too crazy for your paygrade. He needed more care than you could provide.

“Miguel…” you looked him in the eye, unsure of how to respond.

A buzzer saved you, indicating that the time for your session was at an end. He didn’t fight, he’d learned the hard way that breaking the rules of the asylum would get him nowhere. Regardless, he couldn’t continue like this for long, he was wasting too much time. If this version of you wasn’t going to see things his way, he needed to move on.

One more session…

Both of you were thinking the same thing without realizing. You would give him one more session to sway you one way or another, and he would give you one more to make up your mind before he moved forward.

He was already waiting for you in your office when he heard you clicking down the hall toward the door. He heard you stop, and then Stacy started talking to you.

“I texted Mira and she’s down, you wanna come out for drinks with us?” Stacy asked.

Miguel’s heart nearly stopped. Was this it already? Was this the day you’d die if he didn’t stop you from going out with your damn friends? He thought about the last universe though. You still died, even before you were supposed to go out with your friends, as though it were a static event that happened in every universe you existed in.

“Yeah sure that sounds fun! I’ll meet you at your place around seven?”

Once you finished finalizing your plans, you made your way into the office and sat down behind your desk, trying not to make eye contact with the man whose words had kept you up at night over the last week. You averted his gaze until you couldn’t anymore, finally looking at him and sighing heavily.

“Hi Miguel, how was your week?”

You started the same way you started every session.

“If you go out with your friends tonight, you’ll die,” he said, speaking coldly, “I told you that’s how you died before, remember?”

“You really expect me to believe that? Come on. I’ve been wracking my brain all week trying to decide how I felt about what you said and I’m not buying it.” You spoke with little conviction, voice wavering slightly. “Plus in the second universe you said I died getting hit by a car, not from being in a car so–”

“I know, but the days started the same both times, your friends talking about meeting up for drinks and you agreeing to go,” he sighed, “What have you got to lose, hm?” He looked intense now. “If I’m wrong, then you can toss me in my cell for the rest of my days and label me insane, but if I’m right, then you’re going to come back here and realize that I’m telling the truth.”

“How…how will I know that you’re telling the truth versus making this up?”

You’d left out the fact that Stacy and Mira died in each universe as well, not wanting to complicate things by mentioning them. He looked up at you, brow furrowed and face full of frustration. He was hoping that after you finally believed him, that this alternate version of you would be worth all this time he’d put into you.

“You’ll just know.”

He was right.

The next day you came into work, despite having just lost your two closest friends, to confront the insane man who suddenly didn’t seem so insane. If you’d been in the car with them that night, you would’ve died alongside them. You stormed into your office after demanding Miguel be brought in to see you immediately. You’d grabbed his watch from storage, putting it on your desk.

Success had never looked so heartbreaking. Miguel hated seeing you so distraught. Your bottom lip was trembling and your eyes were glossed over with tears. He hated being right sometimes. You pointed to the watch with a shaking hand. Your face held a combination of anger and sorrow etched in every pore.

“You’re saying that this thing is…you can travel to other universes–”

“Si, honey but listen–”

“-going on but I believe you, I really fucking believe you–”

Your eyes were crazed, “mi vida, don’t touch that please, it’s not–”

“-through the multiverse and I mean, you’re insane and I’m insane for even thinking you might–”

You picked up the watch, holding it in your hand and putting it on your wrist while you continued to talk over Miguel’s desperate protests. He started wriggling in his chair, trying desperately to get free. You didn’t understand how that thing worked. It wasn’t made for you.

“-I thought to myself why the hell didn’t I just take this damn thing and prove once and for all that–!”

It wasn’t made for you…

When Miguel built it, he’d put in a failsafe to prevent anyone else from taking it and using it. If someone stole it from him, or he ended up in an insane asylum and had it confiscated, they wouldn’t be able to take it to another universe, leaving him behind and helpless. Since there was no telling where the watch would take him, he wanted to prevent the possibility of ending up in one that didn’t have modern technology, and getting stuck there…without you. So it was hardwired to work with only his DNA, and no one else’s.

It would appear that his failsafe ended up being what killed you in that universe. You pressed the button on the watch, waiting for something to happen with bated breath. Miguel hoped that his device would malfunction. He’d taken a liking to this version of you, but it didn’t. He watched as your body convulsed, flesh bubbling and tearing from the inside out as the energy that would normally transport him from one place to another coursed through you.

Your screams would be etched into his memories for the rest of his days. It didn’t matter that you weren’t the original, it was still your voice crying for help and ringing through his ears. He’d never seen anything so horrific, not even in horror films. You were gone again, and this time he felt despair again. He almost wished that if you were going to die, that you’d gone in the car with your friends instead, that way he wouldn’t have to go to the next universe covered in your blood and with the sound of your cries on repeat in his head.

He managed to shimmy himself over to the part of your blazer where he knew you kept your ring of keys. Tipping over onto the floor he could get to them, moving his wrist in a way that just barely reached the lock holding his hand in place. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, truly, but when three orderlies and a security guard tried to stop him from getting his bag containing his personal items, including that photo of the original you, he had no choice. He even warned them to stay out of his way, but when they didn’t listen, he was forced to make them.

Stepping over their bodies, bag in hand and watch on his wrist, he activated the device. He was still searching for the perfect you.

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Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

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mrsshabana · 9 months

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Patient!Gyutaro x Nurse!Reader - CHAPTER 2

Chapter 1

✦ CW: 18+ MDNI, female reader. Dead dove: do not eat. Non-con, smut, violence, manipulation, mentions of mental illness. ✦ AN: This chapter has disturbing scenes with graphic violence and non-consensual sex. Please read all of the content warnings before continuing.

✦ WC: 1,808

“Good morning Mr.Shabana,” you chime, smiling brightly, bringing a tray with his breakfast into the room.

He stares at you as if he’s seen a ghost, eyes wide, skin pale, breathing at a halt.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?” you ask as you set his food down on the table.

“I-It’s nothin’...”

“Well, I’ll see you in a few hours Mr.Shabana, feel free to call for me if you need anything in the meantime,” shooting him another kind smile before you exit the room.

His stare drills holes into your back as he watches you leave. He hasn’t felt this annoyed by a new nurse in years. Could it be that you are mocking him?

Pushing his food to the side, he clenches his teeth in frustration. He thought he got rid of you for good. You’re the first nurse that has stayed after he pulled that antic. It always works. But why didn’t it work on you?

He’ll have to come up with another way to get rid of you.

After the first day with Gyutaro, you vowed to do everything in your power to help him heal his physical and mental wounds. Making sure to be kind, considerate, and paying close attention to his needs. The next few days have been surprisingly pleasant. No outbursts or insults coming from him like they once had before. He still doesn’t talk to you, hell he barely even acknowledges you. But it’s better than being assaulted every time you enter his room.

Though you still get that gut feeling that you're in danger every time you are around him. Your hair stands on end and your hands get sweaty. But for the sake of doing your job, you ignore the warnings from your body.

And it seems your persistence is paying off. As your keen eye quickly picked up on some of Gyutaro’s behavior. He only eats pre-packaged food. Why? You have no idea. Might be from some past trauma… maybe you’ll look back into his therapy notes later.

But it’s quite odd. Every time you bring him his meals, he only eats the pre-packaged foods included in his meal. Usually things like cookies and muffins. He can’t be getting more than 500 calories a day.

So, you start going out of your way to buy healthier pre-packaged foods for him. Things like canned tuna, beans, and sometimes potato chips from the vending machine. He’ll only eat it if you give it to him unopened. You want to ask him why he eats like this, but you figure he most likely won’t answer. Plus you don’t want to risk setting him off again.

Your kindness really pisses him off. But he doesn’t hate when you bring him things he’s actually willing to eat. Surprisingly, he doesn’t think much of it. He’s not impressed that you figured out a way to get him to eat, because to him there was no trick. He wasn’t trying to be difficult. It’s just how he is. He won’t eat certain things and he has specific reasons for doing so. However, he isn’t grateful either. He could care less if he starved to death. But it is nice having a full stomach for once. He’s finally starting to feel a bit better, as his strength begins to return. Though, you may soon regret it.

.・゜゜・　♰　・゜゜・．

“Mr. Shabana, are you ready?” You knock on his door and peek inside to see him sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Mm hm,” he nods and stands. His lanky frame towering above you as he follows you out of the room.

Today is Gyutaro’s hydrotherapy session, recommended to be given once every two weeks by his doctor.

And since Gyutaro has been deemed to be a danger to himself, he must be supervised during the session.

You can feel him staring at you as he follows you to the sauna room. You swear his gaze is so spiteful that it causes you physical pain. Every part of your body is screaming at you as you unlock the door and open it for him. But surely you’re just overreacting right? It’s been over a week now with no incident at all. You finally feel as though you are making progress with him, and you aren’t willing to let go of that progress just because of a gut instinct.

“Alright, remove your clothes and I’ll start the bath,” you say as you walk over to the hydrotherapy tub.

He doesn’t respond, but you hear shuffling behind you. Assuming that he’s getting himself ready, you get on your knees and adjust the temperature of the bath. Watching as the water slowly rises and steam fills the room.

Dipping a finger into the water to check the temperature, it feels pleasantly hot.

“There we go,” you smile, “Your bath is ready Mr.Sha-” You begin to turn around but in the blink of an eye your face is engulfed in heat. It all happens so fast, you don’t register what’s going on.

All you know is you can’t breathe, and it’s too hot.

Holding on to the edge of the tub, you try to push yourself up and out of the water. But a strong grip on your neck is preventing you from doing so.

You finally begin to realize the gravity of the situation when you feel Gyutaro’s body pressed up against you. He keeps his hand firmly grasped around the back of your neck, holding your head under the water. And with his other hand he roughly lifts up your skirt and pulls down your panties.

“Stop strugglin’ or else I’ll break your fuckin’ neck,” Gyutaro growls under his breath.

Not only does he hate you because he finds your kindness incredibly annoying, but he also hates you because of how horny you make him. Seeing you in that short skirt every damn day. He gets hard every time you enter his room, and his throbbing cock becomes so persistent that he has to jerk himself off or else he’ll be in a bad mood the entire day.

How dare you tease him like this. Well he’ll show you.

He’ll get to kill two birds with one stone. Satisfying the aching in his pants, and getting rid of you for good. There’s no way you’ll stay after this.

Cackling, he pumps his cock a few times, readying himself at your entrance.

“This is what you get for always teasin’ me…” he grunts as he forcefully shoves his cock inside of you. It takes a few thrusts to bully himself fully inside, as you aren’t wet at all.

You feel like you’re being ripped in half, it stings and burns as he forces his thick cock into your tight hole.

Water fills your mouth as you scream under the water. You panic, and use all of the strength you have left flailing your arms behind you, trying to push him away. But he’s too strong, and he’s between your legs so you can't kick him either.

“Stop it, slut” he shouts, punctuating each word with a hard thrust.

After a few thrusts, you start to get a little wet. Not enough to make this comfortable for you, but enough that he’s able to plunge easier into you.

Having been in an Asylum for so long, he’s never had the pleasure of sex before. And even though it’s something he’s fantasized about many times, he never could have imagined how good it’d feel. The way your pussy tightly clenches around him, he feels like he’s already getting close.

Your face begins to lose color, and you stop struggling. The abuse on your pussy is dulled by the pounding in your skull.

Gyutaro notices you’re beginning to lose consciousness. He really doesn’t care about you but if you died now, he’d never be able to fuck you again. And he’s already getting addicted to the feeling of being inside of you… it’d be such a shame if this was the only time he’d be able to use you.

He reluctantly pulls out of you, grabbing you by the hair and pulling your head out of the water.

Instantly you cough up a bunch of water and gasp for air. A devilish grin spreads across his face as he watches you struggle to breathe.

Water and saliva drips down your chin as you open your watery eyes. Your vision is blurry but you can make out his erect cock throbbing in front of you. No wonder it hurt so much, not only is he long but quite girthy as well. Decorated with black spots and large veins, there’s a ring of blood at its base.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him, “Well since you so kindly opened your mouth for me…” he grabs the base of his cock and forces you to take him into your mouth, “Might as well put it to good use.”

You cough and choke as he thrusts into your mouth, his leaking tip ramming against the back of your throat. Digging your nails into his thighs, trying to push him away to no avail.

You hate to admit it, but you much rather have him abusing your throat than your pussy. But it doesn’t help that you’re still struggling to gasp for oxygen. Your lungs burn but you try your best to calm down and breath through your nose while you endure the torture.

It doesn’t take long before you feel his cock twitch and his thrusts get sloppy. Just wanting this to be over as quickly as possible, you suck as fervently as you can. Twirling your tongue around his tip, taking him as deep as you can.

“F-fuck…” he moans, cock twitching as he coats your throat in hot sticky cum. He tightly grips your hair as he rides out his high.

Tears roll down your cheeks as you swallow his cum, not daring to look up at him. It tastes foul, salty, and bitter. It’s thick as it slowly slides down your throat.

He hisses as he pulls out of your mouth. A long string of saliva connecting from your swollen lips to the tip of his cock.

He stands up and looks down at you. Grinning as a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. You can’t help but cry under his gaze, feeling completely humiliated and ruined. So disgusted with your own body that you don’t even feel like yourself anymore.

“Pathetic whore,” he spits, his saliva landing on your cheek. Grinning in satisfaction as he pulls up his pants and puts his shirt back on.

Without another word he walks out of the room, the heavy metal doors slamming behind him. Leaving you gasping for air on the floor, sore and bleeding from his abuse.

Taglist: @gyusimp @sterzin @sassysaxsolo @gh0stedddd @cry-baby-stuff @hutchilli [If you asked to be added to the taglist and weren't, it may be because your tag didn't work when I searched for it. Or because you don't have your age listed on your blog]

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro smut #kny smut #demon slayer smut #nurse au #dead dove do not eat #smut

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twiceinadream · 9 months

Text

“A More…Hands On Experience.”

Requested: Nope

Prompt: G!P Fem! S/O is a pool cleaner, Jihyo is a very attractive woman who asks S/O to rub oil on her.

a/u: Hey everyone! I’m back with a new fic that I hope you all enjoy. I can’t believe it’s already been 4 years since I started writing on Tumblr and I don’t have any plans on stopping in the near future! I want to thank you all for continued love and support after all these years. I love you guys!

Category: NSFW and Fluff

Word Count: 4.2k

The sun shone brightly over Guri, leaving the town in a beautiful glow. The air held a cool breeze and the warmth from the sun was just enough to heat the skin, more-or-less the day was pretty perfect.

You smiled to yourself as you hummed the last song you had heard on the radio under your breath. You were in good spirits, the weather was great, and you were on to the first client of the day. The house was very beautiful and you couldn’t help but marvel at all of the intricate botany.

The house itself looked quite modern as you walked up the little step to knock. It gave a hollow sound as you waited patiently, one of your hands in your pocket. It didn’t take long before you heard a faint, “Hold on, I’m coming!” From inside the house, the door was opened by the most beautiful woman you had ever seen and her attire - or lack there of - made your mouth go dry, “Hi, may I help you?”

You felt like your eyes were gonna pop out of your skull before you quickly shook your head and cleared your throat, recovering your professional demeanor, “Hi, yes, Miss Park?” The woman nodded and it finally clicked that your client was the Park Jihyo, “Hi, I’m Y/N from Palace Pool Cleaners. We have you scheduled for a pool cleaning this morning.”

It took all of your willpower to not look down since the woman before you was the subject of a very long standing crush and she was currently dressed in a very revealing bikini that was barely covered by a white dress shirt. “Oh goodness, you’re right. My apologies, it completely slipped my mind. I was actually about to lounge by the pool myself, it won’t interfere with your work will it?”

You shook your head, it wasn’t uncommon for clients to be out while you worked. Guaranteed most of your clients weren’t insanely attractive women who had been the object of your affection, but you needed to keep this professional. You couldn’t risk losing your job over a stupid crush, “Not at all, Miss Park. Depending on how much debris is in the pool and all the other little nuances I need to check up on for maintenance reasons. I should be out of here in two hours.”

The brunette smiled as she looked you up and down, you couldn’t help but stiffen your stance slightly as you flexed. Secretly hoping to attract such a gorgeous woman - you were only human after all. “Take all the time you need.”

With that, you gave a curt nod to not embarrass yourself any further, “Thank you, let me grab my supplies from the truck and I’ll get started. Is there a side gate I could use to access the backyard so I’m not lugging everything through your house?”

“Yeah, it’s to the right of the garage there’s a gate, it unlocks from the back so just reach over and it leads straight to the pool.” You nodded in thanks as you turned to leave. “One more thing,” you turned back around to see that the dress shirt had fallen down one of Jihyo’s shoulders and was now exposing a good amount of her cleavage that you fought not to gawk at, “you’re new aren’t you?” You nodded as you responded with a ‘yes’, making the brunette giggle, “I just wanted to say you are a lot easier on the eyes than my last pool cleaner.” You could barely believe your ears as Jihyo left you with a wink and disappeared back into her house.

How strange.

You finally let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding as Jihyo closed the door, the front of your shorts felt uncomfortably tight as you turned to go back to your truck and grab the supplies you needed. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, ‘Fucking shit. I feel like I’m living in a bad porno.’

Once you had gathered everything you needed to get started with the cleaning you made your way to the backyard, through the gate that Jihyo had mentioned before and you almost stopped in your tracks at the sight. The brunette was propped up on a sun bed, sunglasses on her face and the white button down discarded. Revealing her large breasts that were barely contained by the straining fabric of her brown bikini top and the tiny bottom part that left nothing to the imagination that barely covered the woman’s slit.

You could faintly see the marks of an old tan line that she was probably working on getting rid of. Jihyo didn’t seem to pay any attention to you as you went to work as usual. you set your supplies down a little ways from the edge of the pool as you began assembling the pool skimmer. Screwing together the poll and attaching the net to the end as you dipped it onto the surface of the water and began collecting the stray leaves and occasional bug.

You hummed to yourself as you got lost in the monotony of your work - it wasn’t that you hated your job, you actually loved it, it was just simple and didn’t require much thinking after enough repetitions. The pool was a fairly decent size but wasn’t large enough that it took too much effort to get through. After you had skimmed the entirety of the pool you emptied the net into a trash bag you set off to the side and picked up the pool vacuum you had brought with you.

Thankfully, this pool didn’t have an algae problem as the low hum of the motor whirred to life as you plunged it beneath the surface and once again started your methodical walk around the pool’s edge. Making sure to cover every square inch so you wouldn’t have to do it over. The sun began to beat down, the temperature had risen to 86°F (30°C) and without the coverage of clouds or a breeze, you were beginning to sweat.

Once you finally made it all the way around you pulled out the vacuum and switched off the motor, sighing as you reached for the bottom hem of your shirt and pulled it off. You were wearing a black sports bra that covered everything but a low whistle suddenly reeled your mind back into the present as you remembered that you had an audience. You turned to face the woman still lounging in the pool chair, she had shed the white button down and was left in the skimpy bikini, your eyes wandered the the swell of her massive breasts as you bit your lip.

You were trying in vain to reign in your raging hormones as you felt your dick grow half-hard. But it was confined by your boxers and the lining of your swim trunks…for now.

The brunette had noticed your gaze as she chuckled slightly, “You can keep staring, jagi. I don’t mind.” Jihyo smirked as she pushed her chest out further, “I’m very proud of my body.”

You swallowed hard as you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling brave enough to flirt back, “My apologies, I was staring at your heart, but your boobs seem to be getting in the way.”

The singer was a little surprised by the fact that you had willingly matched her energy, “Funny and good looking, a very dangerous combo.”

You smiled as you headed back to your truck briefly to retrieve the bag of pool salt you needed to restore the correct ph levels in the pool. As you came back in, you noticed Jihyo staring as your muscles bunched slightly under the weight of the bag as you carried it over your right shoulder. Once you got back to the edge of the pool you set down the bag with the side of it facing the pool as you retrieved the box cutter from your pocket and created a small triangle at the bottom of the bag as the salt began spilling out.

After all the salt had been emptied out, you crumpled up the bag and stuffed it into the trash. Tying the elastic strings to keep it closed and everything you had taken out of the pool or used stayed in it. you were finally done and you went through without any more embarrassing incidents other than flirting back a little with the beautiful woman.

You made the short walk to where Jihyo was still lounging and stopped a safe distance away as you cleared your throat to grab her attention. The brunette turned her head as she lifted her sunglasses to properly look at you, “Miss Park, everything is finished. I cleaned and skimmed your pool as well as added more salt into it to restabilize the ph levels. If there’s nothing else you need, I can see myself out. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!”

You wanted to heave a sigh of relief as you were able to get out your entire speech and not get distracted by the tempting pillows of softness that called to you. But before you could continue patting yourself on the back for not being a perv, Jihyo pursed her lips in thought before an idea came to mind.

She reached to the table beside her as she retrieved a bottle of sun tan oil, “Actually, there may be something you can help me with.” You nodded, “I need help applying this oil and you seem like such a nice person. I’m just trying to even out my tan lines and I can’t seem to do it properly. Would you mind doing it for me?”

You felt like your head was spinning with lust, “Yeah, I guess, I can.” The brunette’s smile was practically predatory once she heard your consent. She was finally able to set the plan she had been thinking of for the last hour and a half into motion.

“Since you’re new and all, I was hoping I could give you a better perspective on Guri. A chance to get a more…hands on experience.” As the words left Jihyo’s mouth, she released the hold she had at the front of her bikini top as she let it drop and slide off her arms.

Your eyes felt like you were going to bug out of your skull as you stared at the woman’s bare breasts. They were enormous and when she sat back on the lounge chair, they bounced slightly as they settled back into place after being jostled. You swallowed hard as all you could do was stare, “Shit, you’re beautiful.”

Jihyo giggled at the compliment as she reached down for the oil, holding up the bottle in front of you, “Care to help me, jagiya? I can’t do it properly myself.” There was a hint of a pout in her voice as you took it from her, you were very much in shock about everything that was happening as you uncapped the bottle and began drizzling the liquid onto the brunette’s chest. “That’s it, don’t be shy.”

You preened at the words that fell from the older woman’s lips as you watched the oil drip down the pillowy mountains of titty flesh. You reached a tentative hand up to rub the oil into her skin but stopped, unsure if this was what she really wanted you to do. Jihyo smirked as she grabbed your hand and placed it firmly on her breast, “Rub it in please.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the pliant flesh beneath your hand. Rubbing the oil over the singer’s warm skin as you kneaded her breasts. Your movements became more bold as you chanced a pinch to her left nipple, eliciting a soft moan from your client as she pressed her chest closer to you. The tent at the front of your swim shorts was extremely obvious as the outline of your dick stood out proudly. You were painfully hard as you continued to spread the oil all over Jihyo’s chest while fondling her tits, ‘This can’t be fucking real. Whatever I did to deserve this, thank you Universe!’ You mused to yourself as you realized the brunette had been staring at you.

“Why don’t I get you now, yeah?” You quirked an eyebrow in confusion as you paused from rubbing the oil onto the older woman’s taught stomach.

“What do you mean?” Jihyo had a predatory gleam in her eyes as she urged you to stand, she followed suit as her breasts swayed with the movement.

“I think you could use some oil too. It would look just delectable on you.” Before you could speak, Jihyo poured a healthy amount into her hands and began rubbing it onto your abdomen and down your arms. The brunette bit her lip as she felt you up, her eyes drifting down to see a very obvious bulge. You followed her gaze as you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t warn you. I have a…” But before you could continue Jihyo sank to her knees as she kissed the tip of your dick beneath the swim trunks.

“Don’t apologize for who you are. Ever.” The comment was incredibly endearing as your felt your heart grow light.

‘This woman really is amazing.’

It didn’t take long for Jihyo to bring you back to the present as she hooked her fingers into the shorts, “May I?”

It was now your turn to bite your lip as you nodded, “Please.”

In a slow and practiced motion, Jihyo began pulling down your swim trunks. She hit a snag around your erect cock before she was able to get the tight material around it and was shocked to see the sheer size of it in the open. The brunette made quick work of the shorts as you stepped out of them and kicked it away, leaving the singer to stare at your impressive length. You were both long and thick making you the perfect combination as your dick flexed up to your stomach.

“Wow, you’re the biggest I’ve ever seen.” Jihyo smiled as she reached a hand up to begin stroking your cock, “You just keep getting better and better.”

You wanted to respond but your mind was a bit more preoccupied with the sight of Park Jihyo on her knees as she stroked your dick. Opting for a nod and pleased hum.

The brunette leaned forward as she placed a kiss to your balls, moving up so she could lick a long line up the underside of your shaft to the dribbling head. The slightly salty taste of your precum coated her tongue as your hand found its way into her hair, tangling her locks in between your fingers. Jihyo took the tip of your cock into her mouth and she felt a spurt of cum as you groaned at the sudden heat around you, but before she could work down more of your impressive length she felt her head jerk forward as you pulled her closer to your groin.

More cock than she could handle was suddenly filling her mouth as the head of your length hit the back of throat and she gagged. And just as quickly as you had pushed her down on your cock, you pulled her off just as fast as apologies fell from your lips. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be that rough with you, your mouth just feels really g….”

Before you could apologize further, Jihyo took you back into her mouth, but this time at her own pace. You moaned aloud as you felt her throat muscle contract as she took you all the way to the root, pulling back as she ran her tongue along the underside of your shaft. In an attempt to not choke the brunette a second time, you refrained from pulling at her hair as you carded your fingers through it instead. Thrusting forward every so often to chase the warmth that was being pulled off of you.

The head of your dick began leaking in a steady stream as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten at how close you were to cumming. you let out a guttural moan, “Of fuck, Jihyo-ssi, I’m gonna cum.”

But just as the words left your mouth, the brunette completely pulled off of your length as a few ropes of cum shot out onto the singer’s face. You groaned as your balls clenched but you were left completely unsatisfied without any further stimulation, causing the tightening in your stomach to worsen. “Wh..what the h…hell?”

The ruined orgasm was borderline painful as your abdominal muscles grew taught but there was nothing else to combat the intense feeling. You groaned as you looked down to see your shaft even harder than before as it still rested stiffly against your stomach. But your heart seemed to stop at the view before you, Park Jihyo with lines of your cum on her face. She wore a very proud smirk as you panted, “I’m sorry, Y/N-ah, did that hurt?”

The brunette’s voice was full of false sympathy as she mocked you, which in turn pissed you off further. You growled lowly as you gripped her hair in your fist and pulled Jihyo to stand, still using her hair to guide the forceful movements as you brought her close to your face. “You must think you’re so clever. You’re gonna pay for that, sweetheart.”

Jihyo stared up to meet your eyes, accepting the challenge. “Oh, I’d love to see you try.” You pulled her into a rough kiss, void of the sweetness she had expected from you as teeth clashed and tongues wrestled for dominance. And Jihyo had to admit, she had never been more turned on in her life.

No matter what she threw at you, you gave it back to her ten fold, which was how she found herself hovering over your mouth. Her bikini bottoms completely soaked through, but you didn’t even bother to remove them as you pulled them to the side and licked a strip up the center of her pussy. Jihyo moaned at the feeling as she pressed lower trying to get more friction against her weeping folds.

You were arguably too horny to tease and you were quickly getting over your anger due to the ruined orgasm since the taste of the brunette on your tongue was just too enticing to abstain from. It had a sweet yet tangy flavor that you couldn’t get enough of as you ran the flat of your tongue almost to her clit, but stopped at the second, you weren’t letting her off the hook that easily.

But Jihyo was quick with her wits as she bucked forward trying to feel more of your tongue, “How about I give you a true taste of Guri?”

You laughed slightly, “Are you always this cheesy when you’re having sex or is this just for my benefit?” You didn’t give her a chance to respond as your tongue teased at her entrance, taking in more of her leaking arousal. But before you could dive deeper into the singer’s depths you pulled away to place a kiss to her inner thigh, “But, ever since I’ve gotten here, I feel like I’m living in a poorly written porn script.”

To her benefit, Jihyo had the humility to laugh as a genuine smile broke out onto her lips. “Well I’m disappointed that my seduction came off as poorly written porn. Was it really that bad?”

“To be fair, when you wanted me to touch your boobs you phrased it as a ‘hands on experience’.” You chuckled as you craned your neck to suck on her clit briefly, “I’ll give you the benefit of a doubt that it came off as cheesy rather than poorly written porn.”

Jihyo hummed as she lost focus on the conversation as she relished in the feeling of her clit getting the attention it so desperately craved, “I can accept that. But can we save the pillow talk for after, I think there are more pressing matters at the moment.”

You chuckled as you kissed her clit, “I agree. Why don’t you ride me, jagi, I want to see those beautiful tits bounce for me. Least you could do since you spilled oil all over me.”

The brunette smirked as she wiggled her way out of her bikini bottoms so that the two were completely naked, “I can definitely get on top of that idea and get on top of you as well.”

You both laughed out loud but your laughing ceased as Jihyo sank down on your cock. The feeling of being stretched open made the singer moan loudly as the rippling heat around your dick made you groan as one of your hands shot to hold onto Jihyo’s hip, guiding her down till you bottomed out inside of her. She breathed through her nose as she felt her inner walls adjust to the stretch, it had been awhile since she had been with anyone and her fingers were never this thick or this deep inside of her.

The brunette let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as she slowly began to rise up from atop of your cock till only the tip remained inside of her then dropped down. Eliciting a moan from both of you as pleasure crawled up your spines. Jihyo bounced on your lap as your dick had enough curve to it to rub against the spot inside of her that made her see stars when she pulled out at just the right angle. Your eyes were transfixed on her wobbling tits as an unashamed look of lust adorned your face.

You even reached the hand that hadn’t found purchase on the brunette’s hip to continue squeezing and teasing her breasts. “Shit, just like that, good girl. You’re taking me so well.”

Jihyo’s breathing came out in clipped pants as she moved faster, the sound of her skin slapping against your’s made her blush as loud moans fell from her mouth. “God, only for you. You're filling me up so much.”

The singer sounded breathless as she began adding in the occasional rock of her hips to elicit more pleasure against her clit. You groaned beneath her as the hot and tight walls of Jihyo’s pussy gripped your shaft firmly, massaging it in a way that sent your head spinning. Everything felt amazing and the fact that you were even more pent up from the very unsatisfying release from before didn’t help. You felt dangerously close to the edge as you began thrusting up to meet Jihyo’s hips.

“Fucking shit, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum!” Your voice was strained as the idol’s inner walls tightened even more around you. There was only so much more of this that you could take before you were at the end of your wits.

“Cum inside, I’m on the pill. I’m almost there!” Jihyo’s voice raised an octave as her thrusts became a blur of short up and down movements. Not wanting to part from you for long as she reached a hand down to rub at her clit.

The sight of the woman atop you: riding you, touching herself, and her gigantic tits bouncing was enough to send you careening over the edge as you choked on a moan before feeling your abdomen contract and your balls tighten. Ropes of your cum shot deep inside of Jihyo as the feeling triggered the singer’s orgasm in turn and caused her walls to clench rhythmically around your cock.

Jihyo finally let out the scream she had been suppressing as she tilted her head back up to the sky as she came. Her release squirted out onto you ever so slightly as she felt your hot load in her womb. She sighed as her walls gave one final squeeze to your shaft after she had milked you for all you were worth. Jihyo looked down to see that your eyes had closed and a blissful smile graced your lips. She could tell you were awake, but barely.

That’s when her exhaustion seemed to hit her as well, she didn’t bother moving too much as she leaned forward to rest her body atop of yours. She could feel your dick softening a little inside of her as she placed lazy kisses on your neck, “That was amazing.”

You had started tracing random patterns on her naked back that she found oddly soothing, “I think amazing might be an understatement.”

Finally, you two broke the scene that the two of you had built as you wrapped your arms around your girlfriend. Placing a kiss to the crown of her head, “Thank you for doing this with me. I know a scene like this was a little weird.”

Jihyo grinned as she cuddled closer to you, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, jagiya. I haven’t cum that hard in a long time”

You laughed slightly before a yawn cut you off, “Tell me about it. You even squirted!” The idol could practically feel the smug smile on your face as she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t get too full of yourself, Y/N-ah.” Jihyo yawned as she felt her eyes start to droop, “I’m gonna nap for a little, the whole thing really tired me out. I love you, jagi.”

You smiled as you pulled your girlfriend as close to you as humanly possible, “I love you too, Jihyo-ah.”

#twice #fortwice #twice imagines #twice prompts #twice smut #twice fluff #park jihyo #twice jihyo #park jihyo x g!p fem reader #g!p reader #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #twiceinadream

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thisismeracing · 6 months

Text

King of my heart | MS47 | part. 20

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Hamilton!reader (she/her)

Warnings: curse words, mentions of food and alcohol, tooth-rotting fluff, angsty, mentions of anxiety and break up, not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI!

word count: 1.9k

part. 19 | series masterlist | part 21 | taglist

Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

A/n: Thank you so so much for all the love and support! I see you, and I appreciate you! *mwah* I hope you guys like this chapter! Don't forget to reblog and let me know your thoughts <3

“Hey, Mase,” Yn smiled when she spotted the brown-haired Brit on the farthest table. Her stomach did a little somersault, and her heart got confused between beating faster or keeping the usual pace.

Mason was right in front of her, wearing a white shirt and his biggest grin, the same he used to wear when they first became friends. Yn watched how he fiddled with his sunglasses and smiled wider. He, too, was a bit nervous about this conversation. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” she said before sitting down in front of him.

“We both deserve closure,” Mason stated, and Yn nodded.

She grabbed her phone, typing away a message to tell Mick she got there safely, and when she put down the device, she saw Mason eyeing the whole scene.

“Does he make you happy?” he asked, no harm or hidden hatred behind his question and Yn knew it because his features seemed relaxed, a small tug on the corner of his lips gave away he wasn’t stressed or bothered.

She nodded, “The happiest. Maybe that’s why I was so scared at first because I’ve never felt like this. And I know how dangerous unknown feelings can be.”

Mason bit his lips, “Was he the reason you wanted to see me? Did he suggest it?”

“Yes and no,” she shook her head and chuckled. “He didn’t suggest it, Lewis did, actually. He has been since we broke up, you know he used to be wiser than us both, and he still is.”

“I hope Lando doesn’t hear this, but I secretly root for Lewis. I will always do, even though we’re not really family anymore, nor friends.”

With the fond mention of her brother, Yn smiled, “Deep down he liked you, he was just afraid we were gonna hurt each other, and, he won’t admit it but he was jealous too. You were my first serious boyfriend after all.”

“My mom loved you too, even though she wouldn’t say it.”

Yn rolled her eyes playfully, before straightening her back, “We were so young, now look at you, playing for the big clubs, having fans around the world. I’m proud of you, Mase. And I’m sorry it took me forever to finally get to this point, I’m sorry for the things I said when we broke up, sorry for not being more patient with you.”

“I’m sorry too, Yn. I was kind of a dick to you in some situations, I can recognize it. We both should’ve had more patience, but I don’t condemn who we were, because, at the end of the day, you can’t expect experience from somebody who only started adult life. We were young and a bit reckless if you ask me,” their eyes met, and shared a laugh, both remembering the same situation.

“Still, I should have messaged you before. We were young, but we know better now, it’s been a while since we know better, and I should have-”

Mason grabbed her wrist gently, and laid her hand on the table, “You know what didn’t change? You still act like everything is your responsibility and your fault. It’s not your job to fix the world, Yn. You could have messaged me before, yes, but so could I. But neither of us was ready, we didn’t have a reason to do so too. Now you’re in love, and you want to dive in without the weight of a past relationship, that’s reason enough, and it’s ok to do it for yourself, you deserve tranquility too.”

Yn averted her eyes to her glass of water, just when the host got to their table, asking what they would order. Both smiled politely, asked for the vegan version of whatever was the main dish that night, and went back to talking.

“I see your point,” she breathed.

“You gotta let people in. Yes, you need to think about others, but sometimes, some things can be avoided just by sharing the burden,” Mason stopped to take a sip of his water. “I think this is one of the reasons we didn’t work, we both wanted to take the weight and we didn’t communicate the way we should. We were so caught up in not hurting the other that we ended up hurting ourselves.”

“We hurt each other too,” Yn sighed.

“We did, and I was so angry I wouldn’t eat at your parents anymore, your dad was a great chef,” they laughed.

“Shut up, I had a list of things I would buy for your niece, and by the time some of the stuff I bought got there we weren’t together anymore.”

Mason threw his head back, covering his face with his hands to suppress the noise.

When silence settled by their table, Yn asked, “Do you forgive me?”

“Did we forgive ourselves already?”

She rolled her eyes again that night, the same playful banter as before, “My older version was a bit reckless, but I wouldn’t be here without her, so I found it in me to forgive her, yes. How about you? Have you forgiven yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ve learned my lesson, nowadays I keep all the important dates on my calendar and they’re synced so if I lose my phone I won’t forget about a date,” he joshed making Yn laugh. They fought once because Mason forgot they had a date night scheduled, only for the fight to get bigger when Yn lost her phone and, without her calendar, forgot about one of his soccer matches. “I forgive you, Yn. Can you forgive me too?”

“I think I forgave you a long time ago, Mase, I just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.”

He smiled.

They kept talking through dinner, from how their friends' group were nowadays, to racing and football. They had forgotten how funny talking to each other was. They still were compatible even after so many years, after growing and living and going through their fears, they still had that small seed that grew into a beautiful friendship years ago.

When it was time to go, Mason wrapped his arms around Yn in a tight and long hug.

“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” she whispered.

“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he repeated, adding, “You deserve it.”

“We do.”

“Thank you, Yn. Let your boyfriend know you guys can have free seats in any Mancity game you want,” he lightened the mood.

“Meh, I don’t think he’ll be that thrilled, Lew already got him into the Arsenal train,” Yn joked and Mason huffed, “but tell your girlfriend she’s invited to my next launch, and she can have a free pair of heels from this winter collection.”

“She’s not my girlfriend yet, I’m still thinking about the best way to pop the question,” Mason reminded, and Yn shrugged.

“Yet. It’s just a matter of time. Also, this suggestion is only up if she’s not the jealous type, I don’t know, sometimes people are used to exes hating each other, when they see a pair different they can feel weird about it.”

“You’re ranting,” he chuckled.

“I’m ranting, sorry.”

“No, but she’s not jealous, I told her everything when the pictures came up, and she was fine. She still follows you by the way, liked all the posts about the winter collection, and talked my ears off when someone on Twitter said the shoes were ugly.”

They laughed.

“See you, Mase,” she bid farewell, planting a friendly kiss on his cheek.

“See you, Yn.”

When she got home that night Mick was sleeping on her couch, the TV on playing a random program about animals in Australia or whatever. The lights dimmed, and one of her scent candles was on, making the room glow and smell like peaches. She removed her heels, and coat, before lying on top of him, leaving a trail of kisses from his naked chest to his face. Mick moved slightly, brought her closer with one arm, and rubbed his eyes using his free hand.

“Hi, Schatzi,” his sleepy voice made Yn shiver slightly.

She smiled, threading her fingers between his messy golden strands, “Hi, love. Were you waiting for me?”

The Germa nodded, nuzzling his head on her neck, “I didn’t wanna go to be without you,” he confessed.

You could say they were going through their honeymoon phase, but they were very much aware that this would be a long phase. They would do things together and stay together as much as possible because they knew race weeks were crazy, their schedules wouldn’t always match, and both had a hectic life, so going to bed together, sharing breakfast in the morning, and doing small things with the other was something they agree on. Communication had been the key, and so both would confess their feelings and voice their needs, in order to avoid unnecessary fights.

“Well, let’s go then, we have a long day tomorrow,” Yn pecked his lips before getting up and they made the small walk to the bedroom tangled in each other.

“Did you finish packing?” Mick asked, eyes still closed, head buried on Yn’s neck.

She bit her lips, stopping by the bathroom door and turning her head. Their lips smashed together, and she scratched his neck lightly, earning a grunt from him. Mick’s grip on her waist tightened, and just when Yn thought she had him, he held her cheeks between his hands.

“Not gonna work,” he shook his head. “Did you finish packing?” he punctuated each word with a peck on her pouty lips and Yn whined.

“I didn’t, I’m sorry. Can you help me in the morning?” she gave him the doe eyes and Mick sighed, suppressing a laugh, before finally nodding. “Do you happen to have some free space in yours, by the way?”

This time she heard his laugh when he got inside the bathroom. She followed suit, watching him start to brush his teeth. She loved how domestic it felt to go through her night routine with Mick by her side. That wasn’t the first night they shared together, the first night he spent in her apartment, but each time she felt it again and again, and it was so peaceful. It felt warm and comfortable. It felt like love.

The next morning Mick helped Yn finish packing, they had breakfast at her parents’ house and then went on to their trip. They had planned to travel and enjoy the week’s break together in Mallorca, at the Schumacher’s holiday house. It wasn’t high season, but it also meant no beach for then, which wasn’t a problem, because they planned on staying at home and enjoying the privacy. Mick had some date nights ready in places he knew Yn would like, and she got a list of things they could do together in the house.

For the first time, she wasn’t really stressed about all the pap pics of her and Mason, and all the speculation happening. Mick wasn’t, so why would she?

They chose to focus on their trip and both agreed on starting to soft launch for some time, before finally going public. People already knew, or suspected, and it would be better if they got used to the fact that this was their life. Everyone would want a peek into it, and there was a portion of their life that would inevitably be in the open, so what they could do was give this portion themselves, instead of trying to keep it a secret and letting the media run their headlines.

Their plan would have worked if only they hadn’t got carried away at a party and kissed. In front of everyone. The thing is, sometimes people need clarity, which means until they didn’t announce their relationship the speculations would go on, and that same night tons of headlines were already up.

And the news was: Yn and Mason were back together.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: We’re so close to reaching the ending aaaaaaa I'm posting earlier to make it up because the last chapter was supposed to come two days ago and I kinda messed up. I hope you guys like it! <3 Don't forget to reblog and leave me a comment, asks are always open and you're free to use the anon button if you're shy *mwah*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @shhhchriss @smiithys @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @p8dris @heelariously @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @minkyungseokie @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit

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#millie writes #ms47 #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher x black!reader #f1 angst #social media au f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fandom #komh #mick schumacher instagram au #f1 instagram edit #f1 x black!reader

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softestqueeen · 8 months

Text

i can't do this anymore!

pairing: bbc!sherlock x gn!reader

summary: When Sherlock overhears you talking on the phone, he thinks you're going to leave him.

warnings: nothing really, just miscommunication and a little angst

a/n: hey, this is my first ever fanfic so please be a bit patient with me. English is not my first language, I apologise for all the mistakes I've probably made.

Sherlock and you have been in an relationship for almost two years and so far everything was going great. Well, at least that’s what Sherlock thought.

Until one day, when he overheard you on the phone talking to your best friend, Mary. It wasn’t his intention to eavesdrop, but you looked upset while talking and he just wanted to assure he wasn’t the cause for it.

You were on the phone ranting to your best friend about wanting to quit your job. It didn’t make you happy anymore and you’ve already applied for new jobs. You didn’t tell Sherlock yet, because he was very busy with one of his cases and didn’t want to bother him with something that could wait.

“I’ve noticed that in these past few weeks I wasn’t happy anymore with this situation. I can’t keep on doing this, it’s just too much. So the only right thing to do, is end it. Once and for all.”, you told her.

Hearing this, Sherlocks heart shattered. He thought you were happy with how things were in your relationship, but apparently that was not the case. He couldn’t hear what Mary said on the other end, but he could hear very clearly that your plan was to end it tomorrow.

He couldn’t lose you. You were his everything, his reason to live. You made his life worth living and managed to break down the walls he built to protect himself. He trusted you with his life, so just thinking about you wanting to break up with him, nearly send him spiralling.

He didn’t know what to do or say so hedecided to wait until tomorrow and then beg you to not break up with him. Even if he’d have to get on his knees and beg. Alone the thought of you leaving made tears well up in his eyes.

He quickly composed himself, because he could hear you saying goodbye to your best friend. Acting like he was in his mind palace when you entered, gave him some time to think about what to say tomorrow.

“Hey Sherly”, he could hear your joyful voice call for him, but choose to ignore it, keeping up with the act. You were not happy at all with Sherlock ignoring you. After all the time you’ve spent with the consulting detective you knew when he was really in his mind palace and when he was just pretending.

With a frown on your face, you bent down to be at eye level with him. You crossed your arms and lifted an eyebrow. The moment you lifted your brow you could already hear the defeated sigh from your boyfriend.

“Hello, love”, he greeted you with a tight lipped smile. Immediately a crease started to form between your brows. “Is everything alright, honey?”, you asked him. “Yes, everything is just fine, love. I just have to.. uh.. go to a crime scene. Exactly, John called, he needs my help. Now. Don’t wait up for me.”, while explaining his not really convincing plan he put on his signature coat and his scarf.

He kissed you on the side of your head and left without another word. You could just mumble a short “take care” before you heard the door to the busy streets of London shut closed.

Not going to lie, you were worried. Why was he acting so weird all of the sudden? He seemed almost distant. Normally, when something is on the genius’ mind he talks to you. You’ve made a lot of progress since you first got together and talk about almost everything. You knew each other so well, you could always tell what’s on his mind, even if he doesn’t like to admit that. It’s his own fault, if he teaches you to deduct people. But in this case you wanted to wait until he came to you with his worries. Whatever it was it seemed to really bother your boyfriend.

Sherlock wandered around aimlessly before he returned to Baker Street. He wasn’t ready to face you just yet, so he did something he rarely did. He visited his house keeper Mrs. Hudson. He was that desperate.

He knocked twice, before the elderly woman opened the door with a surprised smile on her lips. “What do I owe the honour to, Sherlock? You never come to visit me.”, she ushered him in and set on a kettle.

“Uhm… I fear y/n wants to break up with me.”, he mumbled, not daring to look Mrs. Hudson in the eyes. “Oh, Sherlock! What makes you believe that?”, she wanted to know from the detective, that has grown into her heart and is now like a son to her. She was worried, she knew how much you meant to him.

On the other side she also knew how much you loved him and doubted that you wanted to end things. Sherlock told her what he overheard of your conversation. “But Sherlock, are you really sure that’s what she meant? Couldn’t she have been talking about her job or something?”, she wanted to know.

He just shrugged and sipped his tea.

“I think you should go and talk to her, Sherlock. Maybe it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”, she reasoned. Still unsure of himself he nodded and thanked her for the advice. “Anytime, Sherlock, anytime.”

He went back into the flat you two shared, first as flatmates and now as lovers. He couldn’t see you anywhere and softly called out your name. He went into his bedroom, which the two of you mostly share and found you underneath the blanked, hugging his pillow. The dried tears on your face made his heart shatter.

He wasn’t sure what to do, thinking he messed up. He undressed and put on his pyjamas, but instead of joining his lover in the bed, he went back to the living area and settled on the couch. It wasn’t comfortable but he couldn’t sleep anyways. At around 4 o’clock in the morning his exhaustion won and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

You woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t something new, but you worried about your boyfriends whereabouts. A lot.

You got up and found him asleep on the couch, looking incredibly uncomfortable, his tall frame not fitting into the small space provided. You started to rub your hand up and down his arm to wake him up.

Slowly he opened his blue-green eyes and looked into your e/c eyes. He sat up, stretched and then looked at you like a kicked puppy. If you looked close enough you could even see a pout forming on his plump lips.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?”, you asked cautiously.

After a very pregnant pause he chocked out, “Please don’t leave me. I- I- I just cant live without you, you are my everything!”

You looked at the tear that rolled down his face, taking a path over his high cheekbone to the corner of his lip, with utter shock and heartbreak.

“Oh darling, what makes you believe I want to break up with you?”, you sat down next to him, cupped his cheek and used the pad of your thumb to wipe away a new tear that threatened to roll down his face. “I love you so much, I would never leave you!”

Sherlock released a shaky breath and leaned forward, making your foreheads touch. He cupped your face and whispered with his eyes closed, “I thought you’re going to leave me. I- I was so scared I-“ “Shh, it’s alright, darling. I’m not going to leave you. You’re stuck with me now.”

The last sentence made the detective smile. You furrowed your brows. “What made you think I was going to leave you?”, you wanted to know. He looked hesitant and then admitted, “I heard you talking to Mary about how fed up you were and that you wanted to end things. I assumed that you were talking about us.” He avoided looking at your eyes.

You chuckled a bit but stopped when you saw his puzzled expression. “I want to quit my job. I’m not unhappy with us, silly, I’m unhappy with my boss and my colleagues. I haven’t told you about it because you’ve been so busy with your case.”, you reassured him, “Why did you eavesdrop on our conversation in the first place?”

“You looked worried and I wanted to be sure that I’m not the cause of it. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”, he confessed. You knew that when he dropped the words ‘I’m sorry’ he really meant it.

“It’s alright, you meant it well.”, you told him, “I wish you would have been honest with me from the beginning, but I could have asked you what’s going on when I noticed you acting weird. From now on we know better.”

“You are right. As always.”, even though he whispered the last part, you’ve still heard it.

With a soft smile you stood up, “Come on darling, let’s go to bed.”

He immediately stood up, picked you up bridal style and took you to his bedroom.

He was just glad, he still gets to call you his love.

a/n: if you liked this, please leave some notes! you can now also request fics on my page!

#love #fluff #miscommunication #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc!sherlock holmes x reader #happy ending #angst #sherlock holmes is bad with fellings #first fanfic #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock bbc #reader insert #x reader #female reader #fem reader #gender neutral reader

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way-of-love · 1 year

Text

Unfulfilled (Namor x FemReader 18+ NO MINORS) (PART 1) (SPOILERS)

So I DECIDED to give a Namor fic a go and kinda got a terrible idea but tell me how it goes. Read a fic YEARS ago that inspired me to write this after watching Wakanda Forever. Cheers!

You, a mutant siren, made a deal with the god and king of Talokan. That in use of your body, to be a surrogate, to create an heir, you will be paid in what the world truly wants most. Vibranium. And other riches of course. But you set rules, limits to what was allowed and all those months lead to nothing. An empty womb. And a very angry surrogate. Namor has been nothing but patient but now was the time to exploit your ridiculous rules and claim what he's been fighting for.

Part 2!

It was taking too long, why was this taking so long? You were already angry from the beginning knowing HE was due to visit you tonight and seeing his progress, your progress barely moving added a lot of complicated stress not only to your mental state, but your body was taking a toll.

Every night when he came to hold up his end of this deal you two made it was always you who was sore and achy from it. And after months of trying, you were starting to think this godly man was full of dust. It grew increasingly hard to keep your emotions in check. At work any little thing blew you off, even when you were with him you got mad and almost kicked him once or twice because he didn’t know how to be gentle. But he was not one to stray from his path, not when his heir was on the line or even his people.

This arrangement of yours happened quite a few months ago, being a mutant siren yourself, you were the perfect fit to carry his little heir. Or so that is what he said. You lived alone on the edge of a tiny little island that seemed rural but was more advanced than they let on. Living here wasn’t all bad, you had a few flings here and there, had a job at a local “club” dancing and using your siren songs to lure in men and their cash. Military men absolutely loved you and the more you appeased them the more money you brought home with you. The Siren. That’s what the club called you, little did they know they weren’t far from the truth.

You were home standing by the shore singing one early morning when he walked out from the sea, claiming he was seeing pieces of land his people once ruled but stopped when he heard your song. At first, he didn’t seem to be quite allured like the others, so you heard him out when he offered to sit through your songs and see what you could do. Dreadfully, you should have never given him the time of day because after that he granted you a deal. A mutant baby with the power of a god and voice of a siren for vibranium and whatever treasures you wanted. It sounds awful but when you're struggling to leave this tiny island and live somewhere where no one can find you, it was a surprisingly good deal so you had to say yes.

He was charming with his words, convincing with his expressions, smooth with his caresses, he got you the moment he walked out from the ocean. And you were a being made to seduce and devour, yet he was your siren.

It took you quite a few weeks to understand his reasoning to have a baby so suddenly and why would he pick you, seemed like water people needed to stick together and the more there were of you the better. He went into depths about his defeat in Wakanda, how he was close to death and if he did perish, he would have someone to rule in his stead. An heir, a blood heir.

Children weren’t even in your vocabulary, not even in your future. You weren’t mother material. You could barely take care of yourself. You explained to him that as soon as you had the baby, he would take it and leave you alone for the rest of your life. He agreed. As soon as the child is born whatever vibranum was offered will be given in full and you both will never see each other again.

Fast forward to now, negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test. You were frustrated. When you made the deal you told him specifically, you did not want to feel pleasure, just do the deed and leave. You made sure he followed the rules, he gets it up himself, he mounts and finishes then off he goes back into his little water cave.

To say it was hard was the biggest understatement of the year. You weren’t sure this would work.

Standing back up you gave yourself a quick look in the mirror, a small little pep talk and left your bathroom. It wasn’t a big house, just a small little beach house where your bedroom was also the kitchen, the living room, and the office. And a giant looming sea man standing facing the double sliding doors that lead to the beach. When it was time to meet during the night, he would let himself in just as you both agreed to.

He must have heard you exit the bathroom because he slowly turned to face you with raised brows,” So?”

You hated this part. Before leaving the bathroom, you grabbed the negative pregnancy test you took a few minutes prior, “Negative,”

With small steps you stood before him holding it out, "I think, you're the one with the problem. I mean we’ve done this, what? Six hundred times and there still isn’t anything there?”

For the past few weeks everything felt different, the club felt different, you felt different, and you weren’t sure why. The other dancers saw it too and they left you alone, of course the siren who liked to be alone didn’t mind it one bit, but it felt strange.

It wasn’t even work that made you think something was wrong, it was when you started to study the men that came to watch you sing and dance. There was a difference in men, you didn’t know if you liked it. Each time one man stopped to look, you compared him to another one and then another, they were nice men but somehow, they left you feeling the strangest feeling...you couldn’t place your finger on it, but it left you unfulfilled. One man was too short, another was too skinny, and another's voice was too high. No one was sufficient, none of them could cater to your needs.

You had to stop occasionally, to remind yourself you were fulfilled, that your needs were met. But the heat radiating off your skin, the wanting of it and the needs tell you different. You were unfulfilled.

Namor didn’t provoke you while you ran a frustrated hand through your hair, as if he knew all too well the obstacle that lay in his way to conceive. “There is nothing wrong with me,”

“Really? Because it sure seems like there's a whole lot going wrong with you.” Again he didn’t engage in the conversation and just stared at you. It made you want to punch him in the face and tell him this whole deal was off. Turning around frustrated you tossed the pregnancy test on the bed and ran your hands down your face.

“I'm tired,” You complained, stressed. "Everything hurts. I get bruises, and I get sore. I can’t do specific dances because of that baby's arm in your trunks makes everything ache,” You were emotional and you didn’t know why. But he did. Namor knew this frustration very well and this was the first step to overcome and conquer you.

“You get to get off and I just stand there...”

You were talking with your emotions and didn’t know what you were saying but Namor did. But he still didn’t engage.

Slowly he walked over to the bed you slept on and you both used every other night; he picked up the test and held it to examine it himself. As if he didn’t believe you.

You glared at him while he took his sweet time looking at the little screen. Unfulfilled needs can cause rebellion. Rebellion can come in many forms. And as Namor looked at you he found himself growing very annoyed with how difficult you were making this out to be with your rules, your limits and how much you rejected the natural course of two human bodies.

“Do you understand why I choose you Y/N?” He asked her so sweetly as he placed the test down and went to stand before you this time,” Your voice brought me up. And when I saw the person behind this voice,” He pressed two fingers against your throat. “Independent. Strong. Beautiful. Invisible.”

He put more pressure on those two fingers against your throat forcing you to stand your ground, “No one would suspect you, even if I were to be discovered you would never be. You know how to hide and hide you do very well but this,”

His hand lowered so it lay flat against your lower stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand burning through your nighty, “This is something you cannot hide. You’re frustrated.”

“Damn right I am. You frustrate the hell out of me.”

“You misunderstand mujer fatal,” He spoke calmly, soften by how you looked neglecting yourself. Drained. Tired. “You are sexually frustrated.”

You blinked staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Then you scoffed. “I’m...Get out. This meeting, date, conference, whatever you want to call it is off tonight. I can’t stand you,” You murmured softly, moving to get around him. He blocked your path, with an outstretched hand. Namor has not dismissed this arrangement and he made sure you knew.

“You cannot stand me because you desire me.”

“Oh please, you may be a god, but your ego is just like every other man. Conceited.” Your ears were flooded with the sound of the pounding of your heart. He was getting you annoyed, angry, upset.

“This has nothing to do with ego but truth. You have denied yourself because of your silly rules and you are suffering from it. You’re allowing your own ignorance and ego blind you of that truth,” You looked almost scared as he went on to list her rules from top to bottom and you had to agree they all seemed ridiculous. But you set them there for a reason. You didn’t want him. Right?

“Your body has needs and you are neglecting them for something as senseless as remaining unattached. A woman can’t live that way. You are meant to be pleased and adored, and not used as you have allowed me to use you. Admit your desire for me and that frustration could ease away,”

You swallowed thickly, taking another step back but finding that the balcony doors were blocking your way of making space. Sneering and seething with anger or was it frustration? “I don’t want you Namor,”Shit. Even you weren’t too sure. Your voice came out quiet like a whisper. “You’re just a guy I’m working with. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“It doesn’t have to be only business Y/N.” He moved his hand down to your hip gripping it and making sure you felt just how big and powerful it was,” There can be pleasure too,”

#namor smut #namor fanfiction #namor x y/n #self insert #x reader #marvel #black panther wakanda forvever spoilers #black panther #wakanda forever

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rae-raewrites · 9 months

Note

Could i request hcs of a yandere arkham aslyum Riddler with a psychiatrist darling?

Anon this like the best request requirements like, yes! Psychologist s/o! Yes all the way!

(Gotta use an assault on Arkham gif for this one because the green bean doesn’t show up physically in game🥲)

Arkham asylum riddler yandere hcs

Warning: yandere behavior,kidnapping,possessiveness,stalking,gaslighting,forced closeness,mentions of death

He doesn’t bat an eye when he hears through the Arkham grapevine that he’s being transferred over to another psychiatrist,he’s probably the patient with a record of making the most many doctors quit due to becoming a “problem”

But then he gets taken to your office by arkham security and gets the surprise of his life,a clean newly decorated office. A newbie? Now? With him?

Was sharp trying to get you killed? Was he the entry test?

But then he actually meets your bright smiling face and he’s enamored.

An extremely intelligent graduate fresh out of GSU.

His first session with you starts off with him testing the waters like he does with all his previous psychiatrists. When you actually guess one of his riddles right he genuinely feels his heart skip.

After that session he starts actually being excited about going to see you now. Wanting to see how far that intelligence goes. He also asks one of his informants on the outside to run some checks,your rather interesting aren’t you?

That’s when his possessive qualities start to strike out. Trying to extend his time with you past your allotted hour,he starts scaring the guards to leave him be with you a little longer.

You’re convinced he’s getting better

Of course when you find a book of riddles all scribbled in on your desk,that you know you didn’t put there,you get concerned.

Your next session you bring it up but he just sits their smirking playing innocent.

“Now why would I be out of my cell? That’s definitely against the rules,after all, you said I’m getting better aren’t I?”

A few days later one of your patients ends up dead. zsasz somehow got his hands on a knife. And then another death,and another,and another.

Arkham upper management sure as hell doesn’t give a crap to look at your concerns

Which leaves you all to him. The other rouges backing off a while ago of course

Your sessions at this point getting increasingly more intense. You mention Batman’s name once and he’s enraged.

“Keep that slimy cheater out of your mouth!”

So call it a surprise one night when you’re getting ready to go home and there he is,sitting on your desk with everything. His costume,his cane,everything.

“Hi diddle diddle,time for a riddle~”

Let’s just say the next few months are not well….

Constantly flirting,manipulating and testing his way with you becomes the regular occurrence for a couple of months. Making you come with for crimes,constantly sneaking pecks on the cheek all while he’s got a firm eye on you. Finally you and him outside of that hell hole! Now you don’t have to wait to have a session with him!

Of course the threat of everything you love being ended is always on the table,he’s made elaborate traps dear,he isn’t afraid to hook anyone you love up in them

At one point he kissed you so deep you accidentally moaned. He was practically ecstatic for hours!

“Edward I didn’t mean…..!” “No no my dear I understand well. My genius is rather attractive isn’t it?~

The only reason it took the detective so long was because Edward kept leaving clues that lead to nothing,he eventually got too cocky leading him to go back to Arkham.

By this point you left your dream job,your degree a danger now but unable to move out of Gotham now due to gcpd witness protection. Batman promising he wasn’t coming back.

However a few months later your freedom certainly doesn��t last as you come home to find a riddle on your bed.

#batman #x reader #arkham riddler #arkhamverse #the riddler #headcanon #batman rouges #asks #batman arkham series #yandere

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whenrockwasyoung19 · 2 years

Text

New Fic Alert!

The New Guy and the New Girl

Jimmy Keene x (adult) Reader

No real warnings apply. It’s just some cute fluff. Bit of romance, no sex

Summary: Y/N just started working at the prison as a dentist. You never would’ve thought you’d end up here, but here you are. You’re a bit nervous about this new job, but then you meet someone who seems to make it all better.

You didn’t ask for this job. You didn’t ask for metal detectors, or the occasional drug test, or all the badges, or the constant surveillance.

But you did ask for something, and you asked the wrong person.

You left dental college about six months ago with one, simply request: to get a job as a dentist as quickly as possible. As your mother reminds you, again, and again, you’re not getting any younger. “Yes, mom”, you’d say in your head after each undesired reminder, “I went to school a little late.” Four years to be exact, but only because you got a little sidetracked by a guy and Europe and Italian cheeses. But after the divorce papers were signed, you found your way back to reality.

And once you finally reached the end of school, you could finally scoop up a bit of that American Dream your grandma always talked about. So you applied for jobs. You thought it’d be easy to get a job as a dentist. You don’t know where that notion came from, but it came and stuck with you, until it was forced after you after the eighteenth rejection email.

But finally, after a couple of months of searching, you got an interview. The brief convo with the hiring manager was, as you expected, pleasant. In the pre-interview, you were, as you’d always intended to be, confident, cool, unwavered. The interviewer was impressed by this ‘unwavering’ quality, as they noted. This also didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you was the location of the interview: The Outer Depths Prison, about 28 miles south of Chicago.

Somehow, you never saw yourself ending up in a prison, and yet, you found yourself interviewing at one. You went through the usual checks, background checks, fingerprinting, all pretty routine, but they also had to strip search you–that was quite unusual. Though, the CO was quite cute, so you didn’t mind as much.

The interview, despite being a little shaken up by the strip search, went well. Once again, the interviewer admired your confidence and unshakability. A week later, you showed up for your first day.

Your first patient was a fairly young guy, about your age. He had dark hair, brushed back, though not totally tamable. For some reason, he always had a few pieces that stuck up or fell in his eyes. As a result, he was always playing with it. He could never quite leave it alone.

As soon as you saw him, you asked yourself how he got in here. He wasn’t like the other inmates–not that you would know. You’d never met them. But you’d seen prisoners on TV, so you knew the type. This patient was the type. Sure, he had the right build for it. His shoulders were broad, his arms were like two thick tree branches. You had never seen his chest, but you imagine he had abs to match those shoulders. Despite the football player build, there was a certain softness there too. You sensed it before he even spoke. His hazel eyes were the dead giveaway. They weren’t hardened, like the COs you’d met, or the couple of prisoners you’d seen in the distance upon arrival. Not him. There was something vulnerable right behind his eyes.

You knew he wasn’t like the others the first time he spoke.

“Hello,” he had said in a gentle voice, “I’m Jimmy.”

“Dr. Y/N, at your service.”

“The guard said to take it easy on you. He said you were new.” Something shifted then, in his voice and in his eyes. There was a certain confidence there. Was it cockiness, or was it charm? You couldn’t tell, but you wanted to keep listening to find out.

“I am new, but I have worked on patients before, just in a different setting,” You replied. You didn’t tell him that you’d only worked in dental school and not in the real world.

“S’alright,” he continued, smirking, “I’m new too.” There was something in the way he looked at you. He was still that confident jock that he had eased into, but that softness in his eyes was creeping back in. the two sides of him, soft, gentle soul and cocky jock were sort of melting together. And you wanted to keep listening.

“When did you arrive?” You asked him. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to ask that. In fact, you didn’t know what was taboo and what was fair game.

“Last week,” he answered. The confidence melted away, and you could see the weight that was bearing on him. You briefly wondered what he left behind, a home, maybe a job, possibly a family. “It’s only been about eight days, and with about 700 more to go, it feels like time has totally stopped. I’d like it to move quicker.”

“It will,” you told him. “I went into dental school late, like really late. So when I saw that it’d take four years, I just felt this dread pass over me. I was really going to have to spend another four years in school, another four years not working, living with my parents, and not really moving forward. Okay, bad example, dental school is nothing like prison.”

“You were in purgatory,” he noted, in a surprisingly non-judgemental way, “I can see what you meant.”

“Well, in that case, I can assure that your sentence will eventually end. The 700 days will come to an end, and you’ll move forward.”

“Like you’re doing,” he noted.

“Like I’m doing,” you echoed.

There was a slight pause, as you both seemed to forget why you were here. And then you remembered: dentistry!

“Sorry, sir, you had a toothache.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s over here…”

It turned out, his tooth was perfectly healthy. He just had some untreated gingivitis, and the inflammation was causing him some pain. He had remained somewhat calm and collected while you checked him over, but in the moments before you announced his diagnosis, you could see how tense he got. So, you happily announced that there was basically nothing wrong, and he’d just need a regular cleaning to sort him out.

During his cleaning, the two of you continued to chat. You quickly learned that Jimmy was a big baseball fan, but he wasn’t a Cubs fan. Perhaps revealing a bit too much (which you could tell by the way he blushed) he admitted he didn’t like the Cubs out of slight rebellion. His father was a die-hard Cubs fan, so he grew to love the Red Sox, even though he’s only been to Boston once. You told him that you used to be a Cubs fan, but decided to back the Yankees since you wanted to support a winning team.

After swapping some baseball stats, and fighting over a recent game, your conversation eased into one about TV. Jimmy revealed that he missed TV.

“Don’t you guys have a TV room,” you’d remarked.

“Yes, but I’ve never gotten control of the remote. I always end up watching the news, Letterman, or TV Land, and that doesn’t interest me much.”

You ask him about his favorite shows, and he tells you all about his favorite cop shows, like Miami Vice and Hawaii Five O. the irony doesn’t pass him by.

After pulling away to let him speak, he said. “Not sure if I can watch those shows anymore, now that I know what it’s like to be in the back of a police car.”

You had so many questions for him. You wanted to know what he was in for. It’s minimum security prison (or minimum for short, you learned), so nothing too terrible. Just something illegal and bad enough to get him two years. You also wanted to know why he did whatever it is he did, and what kind of life he led before prison. But you were just his dentist, not his psychologist or his girlfriend, so you didn’t ask.

You just asked him something you’d always wanted to know. “I now know what it’s like to be inside a prison, but I don’t know what it’s like inside a police car.”

“Shitty,” he answered, as he tried to stew together something more eloquent. Swallowing hard, he continued, “I had to just stew in the knowledge that I had ruined my own life.” he laid back down and opened his mouth. “Sorry, you were in the middle of something, and I’ve been babbling on.”

“No, it’s okay,” I answered. “A little insight into what it’s like in here wouldn’t hurt.”

“I can tell you what it’s like. Hell. just hell. Like, when I say that, I don’t mean in the colloquial sense, just like, hey it’s hell in there. I mean it as a pretty apt metaphor here. It is hell; we’re trapped here, like demons in hell. We’re given shitty food, which I imagine is the case in hell. It’s hot as hell because the air condition has been broken all summer. And you have to constantly worry about pissing off the wrong person, or else your ass is getting beat.”

He then looked up at me with those vulnerable eyes of his. Once again, he seemed to think he’d said too much.

“You asked,” he added cheekily.

“I’m glad I did,” you answered, swallowing hard. “I think I need to know how people in here think; otherwise, I won’t be able to talk to them, to reach them. I’ll just be an outsider to them.”

“You are an outsider,” he remarked, “But in a good way. You don’t want to fit in here. Trust me.”

“I don’t think you do, either.” You surprised yourself with that comment. “I don’t think you’re one of them.”

“I am one of them,” he insists.

“Okay, fine,” you relent, because you weren’t about to argue with a stranger about things you didn’t fully understand yet. “We aren’t that alike. But we are alike in one way: we’re both trying to get our footing here.”

He nodded then. “I think we’ll find it. I’ve certainly gotten more used to this place. Perhaps you can as well.”

“Perhaps I can.”

“Now,” he continues abruptly, “Shouldn’t you finish cleaning my teeth?”

“Right!”

Eventually, the appointment comes to end once you finish cleaning his teeth. He gives you a smile, a much brighter one, and tells you, “You’re doing awesome. So don’t let this place intimidate you, alright? You’ve got this.”

“So do you.”

None of your other patients could really measure up to Jimmy. Some were nice, some were mean, some were shockingly cowardly (going as far as to cower in the corner), and some were tough enough to withstand the worst novocain shots. But none of them were like Jimmy. Very few were as open to chatting with you as he did. Most of them had real dental problems, so you couldn’t waste time chatting away while you had to drill and fill and extract. And when they did talk, it was always light fodder. Small talk. You’d discuss the lunch menu, the status of the air conditioning, the itchiness of the sheets, and how people were spending their commissary money. But nothing thought-provoking or particularly memorable. These were conversations you’d forget about in a week. But it’d been weeks and you hadn’t forgotten your conversation with Jimmy.

Then, without much of a warning, Jimmy returned. He just appeared in your office doorway one day.

“Do you mind having a look at something?” He asked you. You nodded and invited him inside.

“How have you been?” You asked him. “Have you adjusted okay?” He rocked his head back and forth, and you knew what that meant; he hadn’t adjusted, at least not much.

“I can’t really sleep,” he noted, scratching the back of his neck. “And I think I’ve been grinding my teeth, which sucks because I’ve really looked after my teeth. Two months in here, and I’m fucking them up.”

“Okay, let me have a look.”

He nodded, taking a seat in the chair. You took a seat at his side. He was laying down, and you were hovering over him. Your eyes met his, and you thought, for a second, you might melt. He then popped open his mouth, and you remembered that you had to do your job.

After poking around his mouth for a bit, he asked you, his voice muffled, “How have you been? I meant to ask earlier, but we jumped into this a little fast.” You pulled the tools out so you could have your convo. You couldn’t help but get butterflies as you geared up to talk to him.

“Alright,” you answered, “I’ve finally gotten my own apartment. It’s in the eastern part of Chicago.”

“Nice, I used to live in the Northeast…”

You begin swapping stories about the city, exchanging your favorite pizza joints and Greek restaurants. You quickly discover that he's Italian and a bit of a connoisseur of the local Italian restaurant scene. You tell him about the handful of good Iranian food spots in the area.

“I have to admit,” he replied sheepishly, “I haven’t had it.”

“Most people haven’t,” you replied flatly. “But I can make some recommendations–for when you get out.”

“In one year and ten months,” he noted.

“One year and ten months,” you affirmed, “See, that’s already much shorter than when we met. And does that feel like it was so long ago?”

He raised one apprehensive eyebrow. “Kinda, yeah,” he replied. “Does it feel that way too?”

“I’m not counting the days,” you answered.

“Really?” He sounded surprised, which puzzled you. “You’re not counting the days until you can get a different job, maybe one without a barbed wire fence.”

“I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know if and when that’ll happen. I’ve spent years of my life reaching towards some far off goal. It’d be nice if I could just stand still, for a bit, you know, just enjoy what I have now.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this is the place to do it.”

“It isn’t so bad on my end. Once I’m in here, and the doors are shot, and the CO goes outside the door, I feel like I’m in a regular dentistry. And once the patients come, and I start working, it all just feels like dentistry to me. Really, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He looked at you, really looked at you. You had to know what he was thinking. What did he want to know about you?

“I’ll try not to worry about you,” he sighed.

“You worry about me?”

“Course,” he answered with a coy smile. “The loonies that walk through that door. I think about you all the time, asking myself how you’re managing in this place.” “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking the same thing.”

He gazes at you. You recognized that gaze. Men have looked at you before. In particular, a man you divorced.

“So,” you start searching around for your tools, your eyes darting all around your tray. At last, you pick one up. “You wanted to know if you were grinding your teeth.”

“Oh, that,” he said flatly. You catch something in his voice, something off.

“Yeah, you said you were grinding your teeth. Right?”

“Can I be honest with you?” He said in a soft voice.

“Of course,” you answered, dropping your gaze. “What do you need?”

“I’m not grinding my teeth. At least, I don’t think I am. I only said that because,” he paused and sighed. “Oh god this sounds so middle school.”

“What?” You said teasingly. Perhaps you were back in middle school.

Smirking, he explained, “I lied about my teeth because I wanted to see you.”

You looked up at him with a wide, doe-eyed expression. You tried to shake it off, but you couldn’t stop staring.

“You wanted to hang out with me?”

He smiled and nodded. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by because I have been wondering how you were holding up.”

“You know,” he added coyly, “What if I were to need some more dentistry done.”

“Like what? Your teeth are remarkably perfect.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, because it’s not real. It’s just an appointment slot that you’ll leave open for me.”

“How often?”

“Mmm, I don’t know. Once a week?”

That made you smile a big goofy smile. “Once a week, you and I can just come in, chat for a bit, and I’ll send you on your way.”

He nodded, “Yeah, just some chatting.”

But as soon as he said that, you knew it wasn’t true. You knew what you were slipping into, but you did nothing to get your footing. You just said, “I want to see you again, and again, and again, and again.”

And that cocky confidence punched its way through the softness, “Likewise.”

And you melted right then and there, like puddy in the hot sun.

#taron egerton #taron egerton x reader #blackbird #jimmy keene #jimmy keene fic #taron egerton fic #in with the devil #fluff #romantic fluff

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whisper-my-serenade · 10 months

Text

wayward son

a theoretical todd anderson origin story

word count: 5937

cw: non-consensual kissing, f-slur, period-accurate homophobia

Todd sat himself at the top of the staircase, careful not to make a sound lest his parents hear around the corner. They spoke in hushed, angered tones; they spat his name like that of a plague. It was as if he was a misbehaving dog that they couldn’t put down, but some other form of containment had to be found. In that moment, he might have preferred if they just shot him Old Yeller-style.

“Aren’t there religious places we can send him? Places that are equipped to deal with things like this?” his father was saying, exasperated.

“No, no, everyone knows those don’t work. Besides, people would ask too many questions about where he’s gone,” his mother huffed. He thought it surprising that she was against a religious school, seeing as she was the one who dragged them all to church every Sunday.

His father sighed, the heavy, long thing that Todd knew he did as a quiet way of telling people to shut up and do whatever he said. “We’re running out of options, Lorraine. We need somewhere that will keep him in line. A military school, maybe?”

“Ha!” his mother cracked. “Could you imagine? He’d be crushed like a bug.”

There was a stiff moment of silence. Todd could feel the heavy, humid summer air creep through the open windows.

“Why don’t we just send him to Welton?” his mother suddenly replied, and Todd inhaled sharply, almost breaking his silence with a yelp. Please, anywhere but there.

“You can’t be serious,” his father retorted. “After what he’s done? You remember why we didn’t send him there in the first place, don’t you?”

“There’s no better place to get him in line and make sure he gives our family a good name. That’s what that school was made for. Besides, his grades are up enough, I think.”

“I don’t know. He’s not really the Welton type, is he?”

“Do you have any better ideas, Robert?”

Todd waited for the reply with bated breath. Even then he could feel his future being determined right in front of him.

“Oh, I suppose not. It’s as good a school as any.”

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd Anderson was, at Balincrest, a leper. He was quiet, anxious, had a bad stutter and some awkward nervous ticks that made the other boys call him names usually reserved for asylum patients. But Todd was not a fun target—he had something most other boys his age lacked, that being the emotional maturity to know when to not rise to the bait—and for the most part he was left on his own, reading his infinite novels in some dark hovel and completing his schoolwork silent and alone in a corner of the common room. The teasing, when it did come about, didn’t bother him much because he was as aware of his faults as anyone and no one could punish him for them as he already punished himself. For some reason, though, the one that got to him the most was ‘mute’. It was not that he couldn’t talk, it was that there was no one in the world he felt he could talk with.

Ever since he was a small child, people had very few good things to say about Todd. With his parents, it was always some form of inferiority to his brother, a high cliff of a standard he could never quite climb to the top of. Gone were the days of the two boys dressed in matching outfits, playing games of knights and dragons in their grandparent’s sprawling backyard; now it was only Jeffrey did this and you didn’t. Going to different schools meant Todd only saw glimpses of his brother in the summer, when his primary job was staying out of his family’s hair. Todd didn’t know what Jeff thought about the matter. He also didn’t care.

Todd never particularly excelled in school, either. He was shown to be reasonably bright in class, and was always reading far above his grade level, but his test scores were horrendous, and, worse yet, he failed every presentation he was ever assigned because he simply could not do them. His throat would close up, lungs gasping for air he seemingly could not find, and his mind spun recklessly out of control, trapping him in a distant subconscious where he could not be reached for anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. To his parents, the attacks were another form of embarrassment. Not only was Todd not as smart or socially skilled as his brother, he was also mentally diseased. When he was a child, he’d often sought the comfort of his parents when his mind slipped away from him. But he was sixteen now, and knew better. The Andersons always chose to suffer alone.

That wasn’t to say he had no skills whatsoever. In his younger years he wrote wildly imaginative stories, taking bits and pieces of all the children’s fiction he read to create new worlds of his own to escape to. He wrote little now, burnt out from years of essay writing, but still read ferociously all manner of literature, from low-brow science fiction to the most classical of poets. And, if nothing else, he was quite a good soccer player.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the game—far from it—he just happened to have the skill and anger needed to push his way to the top. Of all the nicknames he was called, no one ever called him sensitive, because he could kick circles around any other player at the school and glare at them like an angry watchdog as he did it. It was a way of release, maybe, but an unfortunate one, because if Todd hated anything, it was having eyes on him.

Which is why when he ended up on Balincrest’s varsity team his sophomore year (the only one, at that), it filled him with such immense dread that the school nurse thought he’d caught the flu. His first day in that locker room, suddenly surrounded by burly, sweaty upperclassmen who joked about shotgunning beers and assaulting women (another area where Todd lacked expertise), was one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life, and when the coach asked if someone would volunteer to spend a few minutes after practice packing up the equipment, Todd leapt at the chance. Anything to get out of that humid, musky room for a few minutes longer. Too many eyes.

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd had never spoken to Isaac Parker in his life. Isaac was junior, handsome, with golden blonde hair and warm hazel eyes that had the unique ability to convince girls that he was somehow different from every other reckless, immature teenage boy that tried to wiggle their way into their hearts (and skirts). He was also a favorite among the staff, but in that friendly, charismatic way that kept the name “teacher’s pet” off his back. Everyone knew he was destined to be the soccer team captain his senior year, because God had never made anyone else so perfectly for the job. The sun smiled upon this boy.

It was a spring evening, one of the first warm ones after a brutal northeast winter, that their paths first crossed. Practice was wrapping up, and Todd was skirting off to the side of the field to begin his now usual job of cleaning up when, from over the field, he heard Isaac’s melodic voice joking with the coach and a word of thanks for his help in response. Suddenly, Todd was not alone with his stack of cones. Golden boy Isaac was there, too, an Apollo next to a cowardly mortal.

Balincrest’s sports equipment shed was a small thing with a corrugated metal roof that pinged like a glockenspiel when it rained and had bits of chipped-off white paint lining the ground underneath it. Inside, it smelled of wet wood and stale sweat and was barely large enough to accommodate more than one person. The boys worked wordlessly stringing the practice equipment to the walls, the close confines meaning Todd was cautious with his every step so as not to draw the attention of the leader. The single bare lightbulb above them flickered as a moth wove its way around and around.

Todd was suddenly aware of the stillness behind him, and when he finished his job and turned around, he found Isaac staring at him with an unreadable expression. Todd suddenly felt an immense weight in his chest, a giant, red-hot star on the verge of bursting. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, Isaac took both sides of his face in his hands and pressed their lips together.

It was a searing, burning feeling. Isaac’s hands and mouth were hot and slick, their noses crashing together as Todd tried and failed to stumble backwards, caught by surprise. Isaac held him there for an unbearable moment before releasing, keeping his eyes closed for a second longer as if reveling in the feeling. Suddenly they burst open, and in the dim glow of the bulb, looked black and full of rage. Todd’s own eyes were stuck wide, breath frozen in his throat.

The silence was deafening. Isaac suddenly crowded him up against the wall of the shed, burning fingerprints into his arm as a stern hand pointed into his face. “You say a word, you’re dead, got it?”

Todd nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

☽ ☼ ☾

After Isaac left Todd with his mouth gaping in the shed, he apparently didn’t go back to the locker room, which Todd was unbelievably thankful for. There was an uncomfortable stillness in the empty room, and Todd felt like he had to constantly keep moving as he showered just to break the sensation. He watched the water wash away all the sweat and memories of touch from his body—the pink bruises forming on his arm, the gently protruding lines of his ribs, the soft, unaltered beating of his heart underneath them. He suddenly smashed the porcelain tile of the shower with his fist, leaning his head into his arms as hot tears began to well in his eyes.

It had been his first kiss. He might have been ashamed if there was anyone to ask him about it, but it wasn’t really that fact that made the embarrassment burn so hot in his chest so much as the fact that it had been a boy. And he hadn’t hated it, not like he should have.

His mother liked to say he was a ‘late bloomer’ and he would find his way into the arms of the fairer sex one of these days, but Todd knew well and good that he’d grown up faster than most and that girls did absolutely nothing for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t have “urges”—he, like nearly every other teenage boy, had his moments in the quiet of his bedroom or the roar of a shower—but he could never picture the face of another person in those moments, only the vague outlines of strong, square bodies and the calloused touch of large hands. If there was a word for this, he did not know it. Or maybe he did, and his mind just refused to connect them.

He knew what he ought to do: go straight to the coach or the dean and declare what had happened to him, denounce Isaac’s actions with all the fervor and rage he deserved. It was violating, dehumanizing, and, in the eyes of the general public, outright wrong. Todd had done nothing.

And yet a small voice tugged in the back of his head, asking the same question over and over. Why me? Had Isaac picked his target at random? Did he calculate his odds and decide Todd was the least likely to speak out? Did he just assume that because he was younger, he would be easier to push around and bully into silence?

Or could Isaac tell, in the deep, shameful way that social pariahs connected with each other? Was it something Todd had done that had given it away? How he sat with his legs crossed, like his father scolded him for? The books he read? The names he was called? His incessant loneliness? If he were to tell someone, would they know it, too?

Todd turned off the shower and held still for a moment, letting the water pool and drip off his limbs. He wouldn’t say anything—couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the shame of it, if word got out. He didn’t care for faggot and fairy to be added to the list of things he was called. And what would his parents say? The Andersons could never have a queer for a son. It was bad enough that he liked to read.

There were different levels of leprosy at Balincrest: those that got you teased, and those that got you killed. Given the option, Todd would choose to stay in his current group, thank you very much.

☽ ☼ ☾

The next time it happened, Isaac didn’t say anything. It lasted longer, a tongue poking out and searching for leverage, but finding none. Todd inhaled the scent of sweet, fresh sweat mixed with cologne, his lips fighting the urge to give in and see what he could get out of this. It was not a mutual relationship. It was not.

He walked back to his dorm that night to the abject chatter of lonely crickets from the woods, the spring moon high and gleaming above him. His heart was still pounding and his skin felt cold where Isaac’s fingers had gripped it. Todd didn’t think he’d ever been held so firmly.

There was a part of him that was almost thrilled by it. There was no denying that Isaac had good looks and a movie-star charm, and if Todd had been a girl, he would surely be internally gloating for winning the boy’s affections above all the others. For all the times he’d seen his brother down far too much liquor or try to sneak a girl in through his bedroom window and never understood the appeal of the risk, Todd now felt he understood why teenagers pushed boundaries the way they did—there was adrenaline in it, a high that came with getting away with something. He’d never before had the chance to kiss a boy, and probably never would again. His father might call it “getting it out of his system”, as he did with Jeffrey’s various misdemeanors. And if it was to forever remain his dirty little secret, then so be it. Surely there were far worse things.

☽ ☼ ☾

The longer it went on, the more routine it became. They put the equipment away in silence, not touching or looking at each other, and then Isaac would go still, and Todd would take it as his que to turn around and allow himself to be grabbed and pushed however Isaac wanted him. They would kiss for a few minutes (maybe longer, maybe shorter; Todd discovered that one lost a sense of time when doing a thing like that) and then Isaac would release him, avoiding his gaze, and flee the scene of the crime. Todd would leave a few moments later, shower, and gaze at the moon as he walked back to the dorms.

☽ ☼ ☾

The end came on a hot May day, the air still steamy even as the sun lowered in the horizon and sent beautiful orange beams across the brick walls of Balincrest. Campus was filled with the inspirited feeling of summer closing in around them, and the boys grew restless as the last agonizing weeks of school crept by. The soccer team played their best season in years that year, with Isaac as the star of the show and Todd as the overlooked secret weapon. Todd discretely smiled to himself when the coach told him it was a role he played well.

It was one of the final practices of the season, and Todd almost dreaded it being over. There was a part of him that enjoyed being someone’s secret, and now the normal loneliness that came with being in his empty house all summer came with the added notion that he was losing his source of romantic gratification as well, as little romance as there was involved. He would miss the smell of the boy so close to him, the firm touch of his hands, the furtive glances Isaac would throw him when he thought no one else was looking. But Todd would get used to the loneliness, as he always had. And summer would end, as all things did, and Todd and Isaac would enter each other’s orbits once again.

After practice was over, they went quickly to their usual routine. Maybe the approaching vacation was affecting Isaac, too, because he seemed rougher, pinning Todd a little tighter to the wall and parting his lips with a little more force. It was sloppy and quick, as if time was running out.

It took a moment for them to react when the door of the shed opened, but when they did, the effect was immediate and brutal. Isaac jumped back, shoving at Todd’s shoulder as if to push him away even though Todd was already as close to the wall as he could get. “Get off me, fag!” he shouted, his melodic voice unfamiliar in such harsh words. Todd seemed unable to speak, turning towards the stunned coach in the doorway and hoping his shocked, pained face spoke for him. He lies. I didn’t ask for this.

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd watched Isaac’s parents approach the building from where he’d been locked in the infirmary all night. Their parents couldn’t come in for a meeting so late in the evening, but it was decided that the boys could not be trusted amongst the general population of the school, so they were sequestered at opposite ends of the building with only the occasional staff member for company. Both the dinner and breakfast that had been brought for him lay untouched on their trays. He’d been far too sick that night to eat.

He sank away from the window before he could see his own parents walk up, and counted the seconds between his breaths to fill the time until someone came to guide him to the dean’s office. It was an old trick some childhood doctor had taught him in a fruitless attempt to ease his anxious mind, but if nothing else it was good for giving him something to focus on until the worst of the misery was over. In-1-2-3-4-5. Out-1-2-3-4-5.

“Todd?” the nurse’s fluttery voice rang as the door to the informatory opened with a creak. Todd startled, tripping over his chair to stand and follow her down the quiet stone corridor. As they walked, she kept turning to him with her mouth opening and closing like a fish, as if she had something she wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to word it. That made two of them.

Todd had never been to the dean’s office, but his mind was incapable of taking in the details of the room as his sight narrowed in on the stern faces of his parents waiting for him. Isaac had beaten him there, sat next to his own mother and father on the far side of the room, gaze turned firmly down. Todd stood in the doorway for a moment, daring him to look up, before a hand forced his shoulder down into the chair that awaited him.

The dean was a relatively young man, maybe in his mid-forties, with a clean-shaven face and sharply receding hairline that his horn-rimmed glasses did nothing to conceal. The soccer coach stood behind him, deep sadness on his face as he met Todd’s eye. He was probably as disappointed with this whole situation as anyone.

“Well, now that we’re all here, I suppose there’s no point in beating around the bush about the purpose of this meeting. I was told you were all briefed on the situation last night?” The dean asked, nodding towards the two sets of parents in front of him.

“Yes,” came a small chorus, only Todd’s mother turning to look disapprovingly at her son.

“Good,” the dean replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose as was his habit. He folded his hands and placed them on his impossibly tidy desk. “Now, we here at Balincrest of course do not in any way approve of such behaviors among our students, but I think you would all agree with me in saying that it’s in the best interest of all for this matter to stay strictly confidential.”

Four heads nodded.

“We wouldn’t want this to become a scandal even within the student body, because things get leaked and the like, so we need to forge a path forward that results in adequate discipline while also keeping gossip to a minimum.”

Todd deeply wished that his mother would stop staring at him with her piercing blue eyes. Her gaze pierced his skin and made him feel like salty sea water was flowing through him instead of blood. He tried to focus on the dean’s words, but could feel the panic rising in his stomach.

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable to say that it’s not sensible for the both of you to stay at this school,” the dean went on, glancing between Todd and Isaac, only one of whom was actually looking at him in return. “I’m not at liberty to say whether one or both of you were truly at fault for what happened here, but I can assure you that this matter will not end up on your permanent record regardless of what path we decide upon.” The dean directed his gaze at the crown of Isaac’s lowered head. “Now, Mr. Parker, I know the stakes are pretty high for you. Next year’s soccer captain, a chance at valedictorian, a full ride to Duke, I hear…”

Todd’s father now also turned to him, indignation on his face, and Todd suddenly understood what was going to happen. He would be expelled from Balincrest (not in so many words, of course) not because it was his fault, but simply because Isaac had more to lose. Balincrest could handle losing a mute leper with no connections, but could not handle losing its golden boy. He also realized in that moment that nothing he could possibly say mattered anymore. Any chance he had at redemption was lost when he did not fess up after the first incident.

The adults kept talking, Isaac’s mother even jumping in in defense of her son, but Todd had stopped listening. He’d never felt so small, so useless, such a burden on everyone else around him. He was a fool for thinking this would never come back to bite him—his ability to be invisible only lasted as long as his ability to keep his head down. No wonder his parents couldn’t seem to stand being around him: he was too dumb to even get away with the smallest of infractions. Jeffrey had the charisma to make his misbehavior seem natural, fun, misguided but ultimately entertaining. Todd was not charming enough to get away with anything, not smart enough to choose a fault that was not so taboo, not wise enough to keep from being a stain upon his family’s good reputation. He would be, from that day forth, forever marked by them as a mistake, a printing error on the Anderson family tree, a pariah, a leper. Ghosts, though invisible, were difficult to forget.

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd’s mother came into his room without knocking to get his laundry, though he’d been home for only a few hours. She couldn’t stand a single inch of the house to be untidy.

Todd was curled on his bed with his old beat-up copy of The Secret Garden, wishing the story could whip him away to a magical alternate universe as it had when he was a child. But if that day had proved anything, it was that his youth was gone from him without him even knowing it had slipped away. Welton. Fuck’s sake.

The long car ride home had been predictably tense. The first thing his parents were upset about was that he’d forced them to rearrange their schedules—his father missed an important horse race he had bets on (those bets turned out to be fruitful, but that didn’t matter), and his mother was meant to attend a vital meeting of their church’s women’s council that she’d now have to ask Evelyn Peterson for the notes from, and you know how I despise that woman. Next they were distraught over the fact that he’d been kicked out of Balincrest, which was such a wonderful school and they’d worked so hard to get him accepted there despite his shortcomings and now they’d have to get another place to take him that would be father away and more expensive and why couldn’t he just be good like Jeffrey?

For the longest time, they carefully avoided the reason why he’d been forced to leave, and he could mostly tune their chatter out because it was less about scolding him and more about hearing themselves talk. Eventually, though, their words started sticking out in his brain and he couldn’t help but listen.

“...never imagined that I’d raise a son that would do such a thing,” his mother was saying, obsessively fixing her hair in her small compact mirror despite not a single strand being out of place. “And so shamelessly! I thought I’d taught you better than that.”

His father glanced at him from the rear view mirror. Todd glowered at him in return. “Did you really do it, Todd, or did that older boy rope you into it?”

Todd wasn’t sure how to respond. Either of the black-and-white answers would be a lie, but his parents were notoriously not ones for complexity. He cleared his throat. “I-it was all him.”

“Hmph,” his father huffed, turning his eyes back towards the highway before them. The day was aggressively sunny, and the asphalt shimmered in the light. “I thought as much. He had a guilty look about him, that one.”

Todd said nothing.

“But you know that’s how the habit starts, isn’t it? Someone leads you into it and you just get hooked.” His mother suddenly turned to look over into the backseat, waving a nagging finger in his face. “And you listen to me now, Todd. That kind of thing cannot be tolerated in any decent society. It’s a nasty, unhappy way of life and it’s best to condemn it now before it’s too late to turn back. Do you understand?”

Todd nodded, and it seemed to satisfy her.

“And if anything like this ever happens again,” his father said, his voice growing low and gruff with shame. “We will not hesitate to beat it out of you with any means necessary.”

☽ ☼ ☾

“Todd,” his mother said as she grabbed his abandoned school clothes and folded them before placing them in her basket. “It’s been decided that you’ll go to Welton in the fall.”

She looked at him as if expecting a response, so he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

“This is a very precious opportunity. You cannot afford to waste it.” No, you cannot afford to waste it, he thought.

“Okay,” he said again, and went back to his book.

☽ ☼ ☾

It’s a nasty, unhappy way of life. Those words rang in Todd’s ears as Saratoga Springs, New York entered a steaming hot summer. Todd spent most of his days locked up in his air-conditioned room with his books, the monotony only broken by him sneaking out to get meals, showering before bed, and his weekly excursions to the library to stock up.

While there, he occasionally tried to dig for things that mentioned his condition (he’d decided to call it a condition now—the American Psychological Association deemed it a mental disorder, alongside schizophrenia and social personality disorders, which was what made people psychopaths), but found it difficult to research a subject that seemingly no one wanted to talk about, and God forbid he ask the librarian—she was the one adult he knew that didn’t currently hate him. There was a report from about a decade prior that said homosexuality was far more present in society than most would like to think, and the long, drawn-out trials of a writer arrested for sodomy, but other than that, Todd could find very little that was not about the Bible, and no way in hell was he reading anything about the Bible. He laughed at the thought that it might burn when he touched it.

If he got bored of his books but was too scared to leave the safety of his room, he would stare out the window. It faced their large backyard, and most of the time when he looked out Jeffrey was back there playing soccer with his friends. It was their summer tradition, and Todd remembered the days when his mother would push him out of bed and out the door to “play with them” while she did her weekly top-to-bottom house cleanings. Todd usually ended up half-watching, half focused on his book from the edge of the open grass where they played. The older boys mostly looked upon him with anything from bemusement to outright contempt. No one wanted to be stuck playing with the lame little brother, least of all Jeffrey.

The exception to this was a boy named Christian Woods. Christian went to Welton with Jeff, and Todd knew they went head-to-head in just about everything—academics, sports, girls— and yet despite their competition, they were the best of friends. Christian happened to be a pretty big literature buff, and always had some comment or another about what Todd was reading when the boys stopped playing for a few minutes to cool off and drink Mrs. Anderson’s lemonade. Whatever Todd said in return (often very little), Christian smiled, flicking the cover of the book and telling Todd he had good taste before leaping up and joining his flock again.

Todd used to think about Christian a lot, back when puberty was first hitting him and his body ached with unfamiliarity. Christian’s dark eyes and fluffy walnut hair tended to pop into his head at the most awkward times. Stupid juvenile crush, he told himself now, but the word crush felt odd, even in his head. It wasn’t a crush, that was the thing ditsy girls had when they wished Jimmy would ask them to the prom. No, this was just a symptom of his condition—the one that appeared to be chronic and incurable. He liked to think himself wiser now at sixteen than when he’d been a few years younger, but Christian’s smile still made his heart flutter the tiniest bit. Unhappy. He could see that part.

☽ ☼ ☾

Jeffrey seemed to pop into Todd’s bubble more and more often as the summer went on. It was his last summer home before he started at Harvard in the fall (which their parents never failed to remind them of), and it seemed he finally decided to take an interest in his younger brother before he left for good.

Because Todd had magically been let out of school early, he’d been able to be there for Jeffrey’s graduation from Welton and get a glimpse of his new home for the next two years. He watched as his brother marched across the stage with that despicably fake grin on his face, then zoned out until a point near the end where it was Christian’s footsteps and smile. He shuddered at the thought of it being him up there in front of all those people.

After the painfully long ceremony was over, Jeff walked right up to his family and gave each of them a backbreaking hug. Todd didn’t remember the last time he and Jeffrey had been that close, but however long ago it was, they certainly hadn’t been the same height as they were now. It scared him a little, the unfamiliarity of this creature who shared his blood.

When they’d arrived home, Jeff asked all the usual questions about school and how had summer been and was he excited for Welton and why did they let him leave so early? His mother shot him a furtive glance to warn him not to say too much, but Todd needed no reminder—he wouldn’t let that secret out if they tortured him for it. He shrugged as his only response.

Jeffrey didn’t seem to want to let it go. He knocked on Todd’s door that evening, a piece of Todd’s favorite German chocolate cake in his hand as an excuse, and asked again: why was he home so early?

“Did something bad happen? At school, I mean,” he said as he placed the cake down on Todd’s desk, pushing a stack of books waiting to be returned to the side.

Todd froze. “No,” he replied quickly. “Nothing happened.”

Jeffrey was clearly still suspicious. “No one picked on you there, right? ‘Cause if you were defending yourself—”

Todd cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it! Nothing happened!”

Jeff seemed startled by the outburst. “Okay,” he said slowly, backing towards the door. “But, just so you know…if you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

“I don’t need to talk.” You’d hate me if you knew, he thought bitterly.

“Okay,” Jeffrey said again, turning to leave. “Oh, and Todd?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you take that plate down when Mom’s not around. You know she’ll flip if she finds it up here.”

☽ ☼ ☾

In August, he got the letter.

He’d started venturing out of his cave more and more, often walking to a spot deep in the nearby woods and laying out a blanket on the ground to read. Being around Jeffrey and his loud, laughing friends hurt too much now, especially as he saw his brother’s life slowly packed away, awaiting the coming move. When September came, who would he be? Same old meek Todd, only now the new kid at a school where the other boys had been building relationships for four years and running. A new kind of leper.

He thought of Isaac sometimes, and wondered if he was having as miserable a summer as Todd was. Had he told the same lie to his parents that Todd had, that it was all the other boy’s fault and he wasn’t culpable? Did he play soccer with his friends or lock himself away? Did he feel the same pit of dread in his stomach at the thought of going back to school?

It came in a heavy cream envelope, the paper thick with wealth typical of schools whose pockets were lined by the lower echelons of the upper class. It was the same paper as Balincrest, the same typewriter script, only the stamped school seal at the top was different.

Todd Anderson, read the top line. We are thrilled to have you join us at Welton Academy for the 1959-60 school year.

At the bottom was a school schedule laid out in a neat little table, on the next page was a map of the school and its grounds. The one line that inexplicably stuck out to him was one in the middle of the first page, in plain print.

Room #: 205. Roommate: Neil Perry.

#first reveal of the new and improved dpscu lore #im actually really proud of this ngl but like...not so much of the other chapters so far so idk when/if it'll end up on ao3 #its also kinda hard writing this to be period accurate cause i am not a gay man nor did i live through the 50s but we do what we can #anyways back to your regularly scheduled tags #dps #dead poets society #anderperry #todd anderson #dps fandom #dps fanfiction #should i make a writing tag? that seems like a good idea #phoenix writes :D #my post

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spikedsoul · 1 year

Text

maid's worst nightmare - ch 8

only one day after the previous chapter? oh yeah! i uh couldn't resist getting this one written it was scratching at my brain all day uwu

previous chapters

By the time Wendy got you into her room and in dry clothes, your fingers and toes were hurting . Aching like they could just fall off any moment, and if you were totally honest you sort of thought the pain would go away faster if they did. Your ears and nose didn’t escape the pain, either, but for whatever reason it was much more bearable than in your extremities.

“B-b-b-bath?” you begged yet again as the girl busied herself wrapping you in blankets.

“I told you no,” she snapped, “If we warm you up too quickly your body will go into shock! Just be patient!”

She shoved you onto a couch that sat in the middle of her large room; still trembling fairly violently, you toppled onto it unceremoniously. Immediately, you curled into the fetal position in a subconscious attempt to help warm yourself up more quickly. Wendy paced in front of you, touching her bow and necklace in anxious gestures that you totally weren’t paying attention to. Even if you weren’t allowed a hot bath yet, surely some additional body heat would be allowed! Damn it, if it wasn’t so hard to speak, you’d ask for Dryden.

“Fuck, dad’s gonna kill me,” Wendy muttered. She stopped pacing to glance at you. You cracked an eye open to look at her, catching both the concern and the anxiety in her eyes. “I’m sorry, lady… dad kinda gave me the job of telling you stuff like that, but in my defense I didn’t know where you were and like I said earlier we can’t exactly predict flash storms like that…”

It was all you could do to nod at her; you hadn’t made it easy to find you, after all, and you knew all too well about flash weather. You used to live in an area where flash floods were a major concern year round, and although you’d never even heard of a flash blizzard, the concept was the same.

It just sucked that you were a vulnerable human, whereas Wendy seemed totally unaffected by the cold.

Suddenly, something started banging heavily against Wendy’s closed door, making the both of you jump in surprise. “WENDY!” Bowser roared outside.

You flinched as she scrambled to get the door open for her father. No sooner had she reached for the handle than he barged into her room anyway with an angry snarl. She shrunk a little and slapped a very unconvincing smile onto her snout, once again playing with the necklace.

“D-dad, um-” she started, but he passed right by her as he made a beeline straight for you.

You struggled to try and get free of some of the blankets before he got to you. It was futile, though, since you were wrapped fairly tightly and it only took him a few steps before he was standing right in front of you. Briefly, you were afraid that he’d yell at you for… what, not knowing about the weird weather? Getting hypothermia in mere minutes? You weren’t sure, but the fear was there.

But Bowser didn’t say anything to you. Not at first, anyway. He just gently pressed one of his large fingers against your cheeks, your nose, and finally one of your ears; you couldn’t quite swallow the soft whimper at the relief of how warm his hand was. It allowed your teeth to stop chattering for a moment, but as soon as he pulled his hand away again it started right back up. Next, he managed to free one of your shivering arms, goosebumps still firmly in place, and carefully wrapped his hand around yours. Again, you whimpered - the warmth was both relieving and also made your fingers hurt worse.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He stuffed your arm back into the blanket and then scooped you into his arms. The change in temperature was pretty immediate, considering the koopa king could breathe fire, and you involuntarily pressed against him, face buried against his surprisingly malleable pec.

Oh wait. Oh no. No, no no! Sure, you had literally just been wishing for body heat, but not his! He was the whole reason you were on the verge of getting sick! If he’d never brought you here in the first place, you wouldn’t be suffering rapid onset hypothermia!

Yet here you were desperately soaking up his warmth despite yourself.

“Dad…?” Wendy mumbled as he made for the door.

“Talk later, kid,” he growled right back. He stopped in the doorway, though, and glanced down at his daughter with a quiet, almost frustrated sigh. “...You did good trying to help. But we’ll discuss what happened tomorrow.”

She nodded quietly and heaved a sigh. “Okay…” she relented, and once again Bowser was moving. You faintly heard Wendy call after you, “See you later, Maidie…”

Bowser shifted you slightly in his arms as he strode through the hallways; his hold went from ‘just trying to move a body to another place’ to something suspiciously comforting, those big arms holding you in a protective manner. You felt it in his chest when a quiet rumble escaped him - if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought it was a noise akin to worry. But any further thought went quiet as you focused on warming up during the long walk back to his room.

As if there wasn’t enough pain to endure, you began to realize that your skin, separate from your extremities, felt like it was burning. Burning and itching at the same time. You supposed that you’d figure out what was going on as soon as you were warm enough to move again. Although, you did stiffly shift your arms inside the blanket to run your fingertips over the back of your other hand; your skin was rough instead of smooth, little bumps forming mostly near your knuckles and thumb and fading closer toward your palm and wrist. At the very least your chest no longer ached from almost dying earlier.

“Still awake, handmaid?” Bowser grunted as he shouldered his door open. You hummed quietly in response, although honestly sleep did sound rather good. Maybe when you woke up again, you’d be nice and warm and also not sick. He jostled you gently, earning an annoyed grunt from you. “Good. Don’t fall asleep.”

Why not? Why couldn’t you fall asleep? It would make things go so much quicker and you’d stop hurting!

Turning your face to pout up at him (but keeping your cheek against his chest) you were surprised to see him glancing down at you with a rather serious expression. You quickly looked away, not at all sure when you’d be able to hold his gaze.

“Why?” you asked quietly as he settled you on your side on the edge of the couch. Part of you missed the warmth as he pulled away, but the other part of you was immensely relieved.

“Because you might not wake up,” he stated, grabbing the remote for the TV. “You humans are just like my koopas - fragile, and prone to having your brains stop functioning if your core temperature drops too low.” He moved toward you again and you shifted to try and take the remote; he snorted as your hand peeked out from under the blanket.

Your heart dropped through your ribcage as he started climbing onto the sofa behind you. Fuck, no - you desperately hoped this was not about to go where it looked like it was.

It went exactly there, of course. Your face flushed a little as he got into a comfortable ‘big spoon’ position behind you, one arm going under your head to act as a pillow as the other draped over you to hold you close to him. Hell, even his tail draped over your legs to offer that much more warmth to you. If your body wasn’t busy still trying to protect your heart from cold, you just knew your face would be bright red - but as it was your cheeks and nose stung anyway.

Don’t fight it. Fighting would make it worse. Fighting would potentially get you mocked or teased or something, and you didn’t want that on top of struggling to warm up.

A sharp shiver shot straight through you when his hot breath washed over the side of your head and neck. He seemed too busy flipping through potential movies to notice or care, even as he lightly rested his muzzle right behind your ear.

This was eons too close for your liking, but you needed the warmth. Besides, he’d reminded you several times already that day that you weren’t anything special… although, if you weren’t, then it was a little confusing why he was personally taking on this responsibility. Maybe so he could gloat to Peach that he took care of you so he deserved whatever he was demanding, and you’d have no choice but to confirm that.

“Stay awake through a movie, then after that I can let you sleep,” he murmured softly in your ear.

You nodded slightly in understanding as you suppressed another jolting shiver. “W-wait,” you said, watching him press play on a horror movie, “a s-scary movie?” At least you could get a few words out now but goddamn, didn’t he say you’d be allowed to sleep after this?

You didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking at you.

“Gotta make sure you stay awake during it,” he hummed, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a teasing manner. He did not need to be that close, damn it! “Don’t worry, little lady, big ol’ Bowser won’t let nothin' spooky get ya.”

“B-but I’m n-n-not special-l, ri-right?” you muttered before you could stop yourself.

Bowser snickered quietly, hugging you closer and practically wrapping his tail around your legs. “Well, when Peach asks, you can’t deny I took great care of you.” Fuck, he had you there. “Besides, as long as I get a reaction out of you, I’m gonna keep teasin’ you, at least until I get bored. But don’t expect that to happen soon… currently you’re the most exciting thing around here.”

Great. You should’ve expected that. Well, honestly, you did to a certain extent, but this was way off what you had thought he’d do. Too bad you literally needed his body heat to get over your mild hypothermia or else you would’ve immediately put distance between the two of you; for now, you’d just have to suffer, and tomorrow you’d see what going off on him might do. Hopefully it wouldn't change his mind about not killing you but even if it did then you figured it would be worth it.

“If ya get too scared, just tell me, Katy, or whatever the hell Wendy called you.” He let the full weight of his muzzle rest against you then, a clear indication he was done talking.

You just grunted in quiet response. Hopefully The Descent wouldn’t be scary enough to get to you.

#bowser x reader #bowser/reader #super mario bros #fanfiction #fanfic

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anchovies-4-dinner · 1 year

Text

Love for a Sinner | Yan!Cyno

What if: the Mahamatra is nothing but meticulous. You were unfortunate enough to be deemed suspicious.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Text is long. You should probably open in a new tab 👍

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

Peace. Order. Stability.

With upholding the laws of the Akademiya naturally comes those favourable results of his labour. Though researchers may never truly feel at ease, and common folk will always veer away, Cyno is... indifferent. He executes his job well and with high efficiency, as expected of a general Mahamatra.

He brings criminals to the eyes of Justice for their trial. Their crimes are not for him to judge.

So why does he feel restless when a rehabilitated sinner is walking free?

Sumeru is a small city so it was no surprise that you would bump into each other often. The first few times was awkward, what with you both avoiding eye contact and shuffling away as if there was a gun to your head. It probably didn’t help that he was the one to personally arrest you for committing the second cardinal sin: tampering with life and death.

He’d been shoved, bribed, and briefly escaped from when confronting sinners, however only a small margin had pitifully sunk to their knees sobbing over the corpse of their husband as they were dragged away to a cell.

Of course the sages ripped into you; they pointed out every flaw in your grief-stricken research and admonished your recklessness. Cyno attempted to soften the blow, but lost all motive when they ushered him out. Sometimes he felt as if the sages were overcompensating, for what he didn't know.

This would be a good lesson for you, he chanted, there’s no room for mistakes when you have bountiful knowledge in the hands of a mourner. You were trying to reanimate the corpse for crying out loud.

Now that you’ve been kicked out the Akademiya you managed to secure a job in Zubayr Theatre working on stage props. According to Nilou and his own observations you seemed happier than before...

Cyno tsked without realising. He blinked in surprise and so did the others around him before turning back to the performance on stage; Nilou was dancing, quite literally glowing from the mix of light and water glistening like jewellery. It was nothing short of an enchanting display yet the Mahamatra found himself drawn to the darkened corners of the stage where you stood watching. Even under the hood of his disguise your figure was unmistakeable, to him at least.

He had no doubt the rehabilitation and trial and knocked some sense back into you, but it was just as important that your mistake is seared into your memory forever lest you be lead astray again. If that were to happen then he would be more than glad to step in.

After anonymously gifting a beautiful bouquet to the performer he brought up his concerns to his trusty friend.

“Are you an idiot?”

Cyno was often a victim of Tighnari’s vents but that one-liner tipped him off more than haughty scholars. These days the ranger seemed to be getting snappier towards him, must be the jokes. He should really stop picking them from random joke books.

“I hardly think keeping surveillance on a newly released criminal is foolish. Yes they are reformed, but any moment they could slip right back.” The general crossed his arms, “The wound’s still fresh. All it would take is one bad day.”

The forest ranger shook his head and grumbled something under his breath as he patched up the latest victim of the forest. The victim then suffered a wind long lecture followed by scathing remarks; he really isn’t in the best of moods huh.

After the patient left Tighnari finally offered ‘constructive’ criticism, “For someone who everyone fears you’re as thick as that GCT box you always carry around.”

“You mean Genius Invokation TCG deck. And it’s thick for a good reason-”

“I’ve beaten you 3-2 don’t even try telling me that you still think that deck’s invincible.”

“Perhaps, but you haven’t yet encountered my new additions: (insert unforgivable joke).”

Cyno physically saw Tighnari’s eyes shift as his thoughts were processed until he was fixed by a blank stare.

“Ha-”

“Get out.”

...

A month and a 20 days later Cyno grew more restless, so for that month and 20 days he surveilled you, individually asking others of your state and probability of relapse. They were all a bust until one day your co-worker whispered in a shaky tone:

“They never come to our parties and such, spending all their time at home.”

This was important. Your house had long been ransacked by officials and any illegal research confiscated, but for all he knew you could be breaking the law again.

Usually he liked to be upfront but due to a lack of evidence he had to be extra careful in investigating you. Once you left for work he made his move; As he approached the door he noticed a few incriminating things: for one you had an abnormal amount of locks installed, most likely to prevent the chance of anyone finding out your activity. Second, he could spy a few concealed trip wires near the entrance, and after successfully passing by the obstacles, he was met with an uncharacteristically bare house. It obviously to trick him into thinking you weren’t hiding anything, but the Mahamatra was nothing if not perceptive and he easily found the hidden entrance to your workshop.

And it was exactly as he thought; papers and apparatus were splayed around the room with a few photos pinned onto a cork board. He quickly went to work, heart racing-

He paused.

“Are you done?”

The general blankly turned to face you who was out of breath but had a piercing stare. “(Y/n), you are under arrest for illegal research and-”

Cyno was interrupted by your laughter. Usually he’d be delighted to hear such a thing but in this case it bordered onto insanity.

“You. Are. Such. A. Hypocrite!” Your lips trembled as you slowly advanced towards him, eyes watering. “Look! The pictures, look at what you’ve taken from me, destroyed, and I’m the criminal?!”

The general ignored your demand, the back of his head burning from the graphic photographs on the cork board, “You have some sick sense of humour turning this onto me. I never expected anyone to dare try mind games on a general.”

At this point you were practically livid. You stormed up to the Mahamatra with an accusing finger yet all Cyno could think about was the close proximity and how much he’s missed your scent- “You stalked me. Harassed my friends and family. You even-” A sob bubbled in your throat, “What do you want from me?!”

Cyno leaned forward and grasped your wrist, relishing the attention, “Multiple locks on your door and a tripwire, I think my actions were justified.”

“LIAR!” You pushed him away and tried forcing his grip off. “You- You’re scared of me saying anything, that’s why! I saw you kill him- my hus-”

Your mouth was clenched shut by the general’s hand. “I did no such thing. You can’t fool me (Y/n)-”

Cyno hissed when you dug your teeth into his calloused hand and he released you at the sight of blood. His heart lurched when you lunged towards the door and, in a rare state of panic, he grabbed a hefty apparatus and threw it at your head. You collapsed as the metal fell next to you and groaned through the blinding pain.

A hand pinned your neck to the ground and you were forced to look up at your husband’s murderer.

“Killer.” You croaked through his grip.

“No.” Cyno breathed, but what was he doing if not proving your point?

Cyno was a Mahamatra. A man of strict ideals. He would never, ever stoop so selfishly low. And yet...

His breathing ceased as he finally faced the pinned photos; he hadn’t seen you enter the room then. Blinded by rage he had torn into the man, the husband who didn’t deserve you-

“He was innocent.” Your voice warbled.

-and neither did Cyno.

Facing these facts, after years of suppressed memories, was easier than he imagined. Perhaps the most terrifying of all was the lack of guilt.

“I killed him.” And those words have never been more freeing. It was your turn to still as a sickening smile crept up Cyno’s face. “I killed him.”

Your tried wiggling out of his grip to no avail. Cyno continued, “And you were trying to revive him weren’t you? I saw your notes, did you really think a corpse would be fit to testify in court? Even so I have no qualms of sending him back. Again. And again.”

It was as if a switch was flicked, the man was nothing like the righteous general you were once fond of. “You’re insane.”

“And who’s fault was that?”

“Now who’s playing mind games?! How the hell is all of this my fault!” Your voice became hoarse as Cyno doubled down on the pressure, “I’ve done nothing but treat you with kindness and this is how you repay me? That man you killed saw you as a friend, a brother even, did he deserve such a fate? Did you really hate us that much?!”

At this point it was too late to stop the flow of tears; you were snotty, struggling to breath, hands uselessly scraping the general’s, and endlessly frustrated by the power dynamic. It was almost laughable what Cyno said next.

“You knew what you were doing, seducing me when you were engaged. What did you think would happen? That I would let you marry a lesser man and that we’d all live happily ever after? This is your punishment.”

“You creep. I never seduced you, and he stole to survive. Stop making up excuses.” Your fists trembled at his slandering, “You’re truly the most pathetic, delusional man I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

Cyno squeezed harder as his hot breath brushed your ear, “But look who’s burnt to ashes now. At least I know how to cover my tracks.”

“YOU-” Your eyes lit up in anger at the desecration of your lover’s body and lunged at Cyno.

Red stained your vision as your fist met his jaw. Not once during the beating did you question why it was easy to overpower the Mahamatra, only registering the dull pain of your knuckles. You didn’t even recognise the blood curdling scream as your own.

All too soon you were pulled away from the man. Thrashing your limbs all you could focus on was the general who merely stood up and rubbed his jaw, his usual facade of indifference masking his rotten soul.

“How disgraceful. And here I was thinking you would know better by now, evidently the rehabilitation didn’t work.” A sage tsked when he stepped into view.

Ice bled your insides; you were set up. Did the sages know of Cyno’s crimes? Was Sumeru really in the hands of such tyrants?! Bile rose as you voiced these thoughts aloud.

The sage ignored you, facing the general when you were led away. “The grief’s gotten to their mind; perhaps the Academiya ought to reject the emotional sort.”

Cyno crossed his arms as he responded, though his eyes were still pinned on you, “Emotional isn’t bad. In their case they just didn’t manage it well. I trust you have everything covered here.”

“No one will know a thing; as far as everyone is concerned (Y/n) is a widow gone mad.”

---

Peace. Order. Stability.

The disquiet in Cyno’s gut was settled and he was no longer as erratic as he was before. Now he could execute his duties without splitting his attention elsewhere, and his performance was higher than ever.

A lifetime of duty was payment enough for Cyno’s slip up, and a lifetime of near isolation was yours. It amused him to no end when you tried ignoring his presence but now you practically await his next baby-proofed gift. He even managed to get you back into TCG, a hobby you abandoned after your husband’s death.

Here, no one could steal you. No one but the Mahamatra would accept you.

He finally had you where he needed you.

#yandere #yandere cyno #yandere genshin #gender neutral reader

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marley-manson · 4 months

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There are many scenes from War Bonds I'd lovvvvve to know your thinking on, but if I had to pick one...

“No!” He stepped in a tight, frustrated circle to gather his thoughts. “It’s not the war,” he said eventually, “it’s the army. It - it - it’s like they’re trying to seduce me, to make me forget that they’re the ones who kidnapped me.”

“Hawk,” BJ said sharply, reminding Hawkeye again that they were in public.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, lowering his voice. “But you know,” he continued, mostly because BJ didn't care, “sometimes you’re part of the problem too.”

BJ put on his condescending this’ll-be-good smile, proving Hawkeye’s point. “Oh, am I?”

“Yeah - you’re too detached. How am I supposed to work up a good righteous anger when you’re always around acting like a cold shower?”

The smile only intensified. “Look, you’re exhausted, you’re rambling - go back to the Swamp, let me take over here.”

"And there's the patronization." He threw up his hands. "I don't need a sippy-cup and a nap, Beej, I - I - I need - I need an escape plan. This place is warping me."

"You're warped all right."

Hawkeye ignored that little comment. "You know, if I go to sleep, I'll be someone else when I wake up. Someone who - who doesn't see a problem with just going along with everything."

"Hawk," BJ tried again, but Hawkeye couldn't be interrupted.

"I was like that before too, did you know that? When I first got here - oh sure, I rebelled, I protested, I stomped my feet. But I didn't really care. The army had a job to do and I was mad that they'd dragged me into it but I didn't begrudge them their, their existence. It was just the way things were, right? And then one of my best friends was killed in action and everything changed. I couldn't be apathetic after that. But it's coming back, Beej, the apathy. It’s just easier, you know? It’s easier to make friends with the army, it’s easier to stand down, it’s easier to learn how to salute.”

BJ looked up at him for a long moment before finally speaking. “If it helps, you’re the least apathetic person I know, insomnia or no insomnia. I don’t think playing nice with the Colonel changes that.”

It was a nice sentiment, he’d give him that, but it didn’t help. “Thanks,” he said anyway, deciding to save his ranting for a while and focus on the patients.

He got through the next several hours somehow, his energy never quite letting up but joining hands and skipping down the lane with an increasing physical dragginess, like someone was slowly turning the dial for Earth’s gravity up. His limbs felt like iron beams and his head was stuffed with lead. Somewhere in there, between tests ordered and blood drawn and pulses timed, he told BJ the whole story about Tommy over a cup of coffee that BJ frowned upon, and received the requisite sympathy. And all the while his brain never stopped buzzing at the question he wasn’t even sure how to phrase, like a fly against a window

Thank you 💖💖💖

War Bonds

Well first I wanna say it was a lot of fun writing Hawkeye on 2-3 days without sleep lol, his heightened feelings and mannerisms and verbal ticks were a lot of fun. I love his tendency to repeat connection words when he's on a dramatic roll and I utilized that a lot when he's also exhausted.

“Hawk,” BJ said sharply, reminding Hawkeye again that they were in public.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, lowering his voice. “But you know,” he continued, mostly because BJ didn't care, “sometimes you’re part of the problem too.”

BJ put on his condescending this’ll-be-good smile, proving Hawkeye’s point. “Oh, am I?”

In this fic I wanted to portray BJ's flaws and virtues, so I feel like he's a reasonably good friend here. He stays with Hawkeye almost an entire post-op shift to cover his back, hangs out with him even while he's erratic as hell, etc. But he's also quite uncomfortable with Hawkeye's behavour, takes offense at Hawkeye talking about the old days, and doesn't want to involve himself with Hawkeye's problem, a la Blood and Guts or Back Pay or Depressing News. It was a fun balance to try to strike.

“Yeah - you’re too detached. How am I supposed to work up a good righteous anger when you’re always around acting like a cold shower?”

I mean it's basically their argument at the beginning of Give Em Hell Hawkeye lol, and I love this about their dynamic.

The smile only intensified. “Look, you’re exhausted, you’re rambling - go back to the Swamp, let me take over here.”

"And there's the patronization." He threw up his hands. "I don't need a sippy-cup and a nap, Beej, I - I - I need - I need an escape plan. This place is warping me."

"You're warped all right."

BJ mentally forcing himself to be the responsible one and not start bickering back, but he can't resist getting in his dig.

Hawkeye ignored that little comment. "You know, if I go to sleep, I'll be someone else when I wake up. Someone who - who doesn't see a problem with just going along with everything."

"Hawk," BJ tried again, but Hawkeye couldn't be interrupted.

This sprang from my hot take on Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, which reads to me like a dividing point for Hawkeye. It's not really, in terms of the entire season, since he's already shown his sensitivity in other episodes, but in the episode itself Hawkeye acts a little callous wrt the war initially. He makes a joke about the "commies" losing the war, he's miffed about Tommy joining up but when he leaves to go back to his unit he sees him off with a "tell [the north koreans] I sent you," and of course the subplot is Hawkeye looking the other way when an underaged kid enlists, thinking it's not his business and the kid can do what he wants.

Then Tommy dies and he immediately sends that kid home, signaling a paradigm shift for him, and the sentiment that if he can do something, he's going to do something. So yeah, this is a reference to that initial attitude in Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, and how it sometimes seems not too far off from his late-series attitude where he's happily friends with all the volunteers and doesn't call them out anymore.

It was a nice sentiment, he’d give him that, but it didn’t help. “Thanks,” he said anyway, deciding to save his ranting for a while and focus on the patients.

This was before I'd finally figured out and stuck to 'the colonel' not getting a capital letter -_-

But also I like BJ trying to be encouraging, and not really helping. He doesn't really know how to deal with Hawkeye like this, but he gives it a shot, at least.

And as a microcosm of the rest of the fic I did this kind of thing a lot, with Hawkeye as a point and the people he's talking to as a counterpoint, basically to maintain a more fair and balanced vibe lol. I'm on Hawkeye's side, but there are contradictions to his points, in part because the show itself shifts politically and tonally from episode to episode, and in part because he's in a very hyperbolic state of mind, and here BJ's pointing one out. He's less of a rebel than he used to be, but he is still the most politically motivated and vocally anti-war character in the cast, even in the later seasons.

This was a late addition iirc, to lead into the very last scene I added, the one with the kid upset about his dead friends, to hammer home the theme extra hard lol. But also just as a fun fact, I added Hawkeye telling BJ the whole story about Tommy in a casual aside because I dislike the headcanon I've seen here and there that he doesn't talk about it and keeps it private. I don't think that necessarily follows from the show never bringing it up again, and I love Hawkeye as a very open guy who has no problem talking about emotional subjects, so I like to imagine that if the subject comes up he's happy to tell people the story off-screen.

director's commentary meme

#ask meme #marley on mash #hawkeye mash

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eddieredmayneargentinablog · 1 year

Text

Eddie Redmayne: ‘Until there’s a levelling, there are certain parts I wouldn’t play’

New Interview.

The Oscar winner on learning from his mistakes, his latest role as a serial killer nurse – and why he’s not wearing a wedding ring.

By Ryan Gilbey, Fri 27 Jan 2023.

Drinking coffee in the restaurant of a central London hotel as jazz burbles away in the background, Eddie Redmayne is wearing faded blue jeans, a white sweatshirt and a scarf. No wedding band, though. Uh-oh. “‘Spotted without his ring!’” he says, mock-horrified. He misplaced it while shooting The Danish Girl eight years ago, which is only one of the reasons to lament that film. We’ll get to the others in good time.

He bought a replacement ring then lost that, too, so he gave up. On jewellery, that is, not marriage. “I am incredibly happily married so I’m afraid there’s no scoop there,” he says apologetically. The tone fits with his demeanour, which is that of a Saturday boy at John Lewis: posh, affable, sincerely regretful that he doesn’t have the item in your size. He just turned 41 but could pass for mid-20s. His tousled hair is rust-coloured, his skin frantic with freckles, his lips so plump they look like crimson jellies.

A scarf stays knotted around his neck throughout our morning together; he picked up a nasty cold on his recent trip to the Golden Globes in Los Angeles, where he was in the running for best supporting actor for playing the serial killer Charles Cullen in The Good Nurse. When the sneezes come today, he whips out a comically large red handkerchief peppered with white dots, like a magician preparing to make the crockery vanish.

In fact, his party trick is quite the opposite: he makes awards appear. He got the big three (Oscar, Bafta, Golden Globe) for playing Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything, and an Olivier last year for his lizardly, mercurial Emcee in Cabaret, which also starred Jessie Buckley as Sally Bowles. A soundtrack recording, taped during live performances for added wildness, has just been released. Redmayne’s approach to the character, he says, “is that he would shape-shift and emerge as this Aryan conductor who could drop his baton in one of the champagne bottles at the end, and then walk off into the night. Whatever else is going on, he’s fucking fine.”

He took home his first Olivier (as well as a Tony) in 2010 for playing Mark Rothko’s assistant in Red. Each night, he and his co-star Alfred Molina splashed paint around on stage as they mocked up giant imitation Rothkos. What a job for an art history graduate, even if Redmayne’s dissertation at Cambridge was on Yves Klein’s blue. And don’t forget the Golden Raspberry award he won for worst supporting actor in the Wachowski sisters’ incomprehensible fantasy Jupiter Ascending, where he was a rasping, pursed-lipped princeling in outfits worthy of a fetish night: stiff gold collars, stippled rubber vests, bare chest underneath. “I didn’t know what I was doing,” he says. “I still don’t. I honestly haven’t watched the whole movie. But I loved making choices that were …” He wrinkles his nose. “Well, ‘bold’ is probably too kind a word.”

Prizes are why we are here today. It’s encouraging that enough of Redmayne’s peers noticed his creepy but admirably level-headed work in The Good Nurse to vote for him in next month’s Screen Actors Guild awards. I wish him luck. “Ah cheers. Never gonna happen but it’ll be fun to go.” A few days after we meet, he also gets a Bafta nomination to add to the tally.

He plays Charlie Cullen, a seemingly compassionate, diligent nurse who is now serving 18 consecutive life sentences for the murder of 29 patients in his care at various New Jersey hospitals over the course of nearly two decades; the actual death toll could be in the hundreds. He contaminated IV bags with insulin, and injected patients with lethal doses of heart medication. His friend and colleague Amy Loughren (Jessica Chastain) was instrumental in bringing him to justice but The Good Nurse is less a story of heroes and villains than an indictment of the profit-centred healthcare system that enabled then concealed his actions.

“He’s basically giving his employers every opportunity to stop him,” says Redmayne. “It’s like: ‘Fucking do it. Go on.’ That’s what I found intriguing about the script. In some ways, yes, it’s a true crime story, but it felt more like a character study combined with a critique of the system.” With the NHS at its most imperilled, the film doubles as a warning to audiences in the UK. “Well, it’s more than a critique of US healthcare. It’s about systems in general in which the power of the individual is lost. That’s got to ring a gigantic alarm bell in relation to what we have here and what we take for granted. The NHS is going through an incredibly complex time.”

It’s admirable that the film resists trying to answer the question of why Cullen killed. But even the least prurient viewer might wonder whether he regarded those in his care as people or merely potential kills. “In those scenes with the patients, I was playing the truth of empathy and kindness, with the sense of the killer being a different person,” he says. “I believe he was, for all intents and purposes, an excellent nurse. But there were times when he was like an empty vessel that would become filled with arrogance and truculence. I spent time with the real Amy, and she described these moments when the Charlie she knew disappeared. That dissociative idea was a revelation for me. So that’s how I played him. It was about finding this vacuum, this different person.”

He illustrates the demarcation in a pair of chilling confrontation scenes: first in a diner, where Amy wears a wire as she tries to lure Cullen into making an incriminating statement; then after his arrest, when he is harangued by the interviewing officer. In both those moments, the actor turns away from the camera then swivels back round to face us, his features fixed in an impenetrable mask. Somewhere inside him, a switch has been flicked to “off”.

No one should be surprised that Redmayne is capable of that iciness. One of his first films was Savage Grace, another factually based psychological drama. He played a fraught, tormented heir involved in a semi-incestuous relationship with his socialite mother, played by Julianne Moore. Redmayne had fought hard to get the part. Coming in 2007, so close to the start of his screen career, it introduced him as a risk-taker, likeability be damned. He made good on that promise in little-seen oddball endeavours such as Hick, where he was a limping Texas paedophile pursuing a young Chloë Grace Moretz.

His path has been unorthodox, even if his background (he was in the same year as Prince William at Eton) is privilege incarnate. “I knew nothing about film or TV but I got into acting because I loved it at school,” he says. A former drama teacher suggested him for Mark Rylance’s all-male production of Twelfth Night at the Globe; Redmayne, 20 at the time, won the part of Viola. “I’d played so many women at school that it wasn’t a stretch,” he shrugs. Adela Quested from A Passage to India is one of his favourites. “‘I want to see the real India,’” he purrs, slipping briefly into character and gazing demurely across the restaurant.

His career goals were modest. “I thought if anything happened for me it would be Sunday night television, something English and Etonian. Maybe a bit part in Foyle’s War.” That wasn’t how it panned out. His breakthrough stage role, in 2004, was as a fragile young American whose father is in a sexual relationship with a farmyard animal, in Edward Albee’s The Goat, or Who is Sylvia? “US casting directors came to see it. Very quickly, rather than doing English characters, I was cast as Americans.”

As well as Savage Grace, there was Robert De Niro’s espionage thriller The Good Shepherd, where those full lips came in handy playing Angelina Jolie’s son. And that Sunday night prediction was realised in the end. “Eventually I found my way back to tweed,” he smiles. He was Angel Clare opposite Gemma Arterton as Tess of the D’Urbervilles, then the lead in Sebastian Faulks’s Birdsong. “Plus that whole weird period where I was in anything related even tangentially to Queen Elizabeth.” He’s muddling the chronology slightly – a role in the series Elizabeth I crops up right at the start of his CV – but it’s true that if there was a doublet and hose hanging around, the young Redmayne was either wearing it or standing next to someone who was (see The Other Boleyn Girl; Elizabeth: The Golden Age). He gallops on through his IMDb page: “Then Theory, and The Danish Girl, which I suppose both is and isn’t an English period drama …”

Ah, The Danish Girl. Redmayne’s publicists had politely asked me not to press him on an issue about which he has nothing more to add: the public statement in 2020 in which he diverged from his Fantastic Beasts creator JK Rowling on the matter of transgender identity. “I disagree with Jo’s comments,” he said at the time. “Trans women are women, trans men are men and non-binary identities are valid.” But it is Redmayne who brings up The Danish Girl, a film he has said he would not feel comfortable making now. He believes the role of the painter Lili Elbe, one of the first known people to undergo gender-confirming surgery, should have gone to a trans performer. “I made that film with the best intentions, but I think it was a mistake,” he said in 2021.

I ask how that realisation has coloured his feelings toward the movie itself. Is it a failure? “Truth be told, I only see the flaws in the work I do anyway,” he says after a long pause. Then he stares into space for 10 seconds. “I worked really … I’m, um, I … I don’t know how to answer that question.” He turns to me, his eyes crinkled and sad. “I don’t know how to answer it. Sorry.” Can he not even say how he feels about the film? “The thing I find most complex is truth …” There follows an explanation of the genesis of the script before he finally reaches his conclusion: “The film feels like a fictionalised version. It doesn’t feel like Lili’s story.”

He won’t take parts now that should go to trans actors: that much is clear. But what can someone with his clout do to help his trans colleagues? “A few years ago, I did a workshop with trans actors at the Central School of Speech and Drama. A lot of them were quite rightly interrogating me about my choice to do The Danish Girl, and pointing out that many trans actors don’t go to drama school because they don’t see it as an opportunity. Unless there are parts that you think are possible for you to play, why would you?”

A sigh. “I believe everyone wants to be able to play everything. That’s what we dream of as actors, and should do. No one wants to be limited by their gender or sexuality but, historically, these communities haven’t had a seat at the table. Until there’s a levelling, there are certain parts I wouldn’t play.” Earlier on, reflecting on his lack of formal training, he had told me: “I can only learn from my mistakes.” At least no one can say he hasn’t put his money where his mouth is.

* The Good Nurse is on Netflix. Cabaret: London Cast Recording is released by Decca Records.

#eddie redmayne #eddieredmayne #redmayne #the good nurse #the theory of everything #the danish girl #the guardian #interview #january 2023

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minimallyminnie · 8 months

Text

JOURNAL ENTRY 2

Aftermath of the first day teaching.

Überraschung!!!

Ahem. My apologies. I didn’t mean to…write that large.

My first day here and I’ve already found out that 7 students have mandatory therapy sessions! Not even from a staff member!

They all told me the same reason as well.

“The prefect forced us.”

I’ve heard about the magic-less Ramshackle student who has a flying…cat? Raccoon? I’m not quite sure what it is. They seem to have been at every overblot that I’ve been notified of ever since they came here.

Seems like this school already had a counselor before me! Haha!

Note: Make the prefect go to sessions with me as well.

It appears that the overblotees from each dorm had close friends/students who witnessed it as well. I’ll have to try and persuade these students unlike the actual overblots who were forced. They might not have any issues or anything heavy on their mind, but I’d like to get to know them in case they require me.

✧༺♥༻✧

Heartslabyul-

Ace Trappola- First year student

Deuce Spade- First year student

Trey Clover- Third year student/ Vice Housewarden

Cater Diamond- Third year student

NOTE: Diamond seems to be falsifying his true identity. Something feels off about him.

SavanahClaw-

Ruggie Bucchi- Second year student

Jack Howl- First year student

NOTE: Heavily try to persuade Bucchi after hearing from Kingscholar about how he almost killed him

Octivinelle-

Floyd Leech- Second year student

Jade Leech- Second year student/ Vice Housewarden

NOTE: Rumored to have “mafia parents” and that they bite hard.

Scarabia-

Kalim Al Asim- Second year student/Housewarden

NOTE: How come Asim’s records show up a month after the first day of school? How come he was the only house warden to not overblot?

Pomefiore-

Rook Hunt- Third year student/ Vice Housewarden

Epel Feimer- First year student

NOTE: Schoenheit has told me about Feimer’s toxic masculinity. Follow up on that!

Ignihyde-

Ortho Shroud- First year student

NOTE: Little Shroud is a robot. But…Big Shroud has told me that he is indeed capable of feeling emotions.

Diasomnia-

Lilia Vanrouge- Third year student/Vice Housewarden

Silver Vanrouge- Second year student

Sebek Zigvolt- First year student

NOTE: Vanrouge has a child?!? Apparently when I pulled up Vanrouge’s papers about Draconia, he told me that Silver is his son…? Top of that, mini Vanrouge requires a more closer examination.

✧༺♥༻✧

I should not forget as well. The prefect. I…was told everything BUT their name. As well as their tiny companion!

Ah…this will be an interesting job for sure.

I’ve heard multiple students say I’m a very pretty lady.

Well. That’s not a first, so I’m not exactly surprised but…

I’m a man (°ヘ°);;

But I can see how people would think I look like one! My beautiful appearances can fool just anyone! My beloved hair and my lovely—

Ah! I’m rambling on.

It would be lovely if this school had female teachers of course. I’m sure Trein’s late wife would’ve been lovely here even if I wasn’t around to see her.

But of course, this is an all boys school…

(Well I’m not exactly sure what the prefect is, but when I get to speak with them, I’ll ask for what they prefer!)

I wish for my students to feel that I am their safe space. I’m happy to see tiny steps towards that with some of the students I’ve seen today.

Apparently, everyone in this school got held back a year for what happened from the overblots. The ob’s seem to have messed with the schedules of each dorm and the test scores as well as the damages caused to the students and the surrounding battle areas. Big Vanrouge seemed to have gotten some magical powers back from Draconia’s and Grim’s (The prefect’s companion) so he was forced to stay as well.

My…goodness…

Ah, I shan’t fret too much about it.

I do hope that all of them will come nonetheless. Some of them seem to fear me…

But I shall be patient.

Ah, it seems I must pack my stuff up for the day.

Tschüss!

-Persin Gotthelt

#minniemoots #mindlessclow #Twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Persin Gotthelt #Journal #twisted wonderland au #Gotthelt’s Entries #Peri

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slightlystupidhun · 1 year

Text

The One That Almost Stayed

A Quinn and Darlin fic that is based on the song, The One That Got Away, by the civil wars. It is set before Darlin meets Sam.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6,

Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

TW: Cussing, Quinn, Hostility, Blood, Grooming, nonconsensual biting. This fic discusses serious issues Tank probably went through. Please viewer discretion is advised.

The first month of the budding relationship between Tank and Quinn went magically. They stuck to the same schedule during the week verses the weekend. He made them feel loved, respected and heard. He understood them, how they felt about the pack like no one else could. The main downside of this was that Tank started pulling away from the pack even more. Anytime anyone from the pack mentioned any outing Tank told them no, that they already had plans. They still kept up with the dinners and breakfast but the time they spent having them was shorter now.

David couldn’t help but notice that Tanker also picked up the habit of smoking when one day he found a pack of cigarettes in their bathroom cabinet. He only meant to find band aids but instead found the box. He brought it out and confronted them on it. They proceeded to snatch the box from his asking why the hell he was looking through their shit? That caused tank to withdraw from pack activities even more.

This was also the time that Quinn began coming over to their apartment. He would come over and sometimes even spend the night. Every time he came over Tank would unlock the door before locking it again. The conversation that followed always went like this.

“Wolfie why do you always lock your door?”

“Don’t call me Wolfie.” They gritted their teeth.

“Or what you’ll bite me? In case you haven’t noticed, that’s more of a vamps job. And you didn’t answer my question.” He moved closer to them.

“I just do, it’s a habit.”

“Yeah well it’s a bad one. What if I need to get in in a hurry?” He says brushing their hair from their face.

“Then you’d better hope I was home.” They quipped back rolling their eyes.

“You’ve been getting quite the attitude lately…”

“And you don’t like it? I thought you didn’t like it when things came too easy.” They chuckled lightly pushing him away slightly. He glared at them and they stuck their tongue out at him.

“Careful.” He grabbed their tongue, “Keep sticking it out at me and I’ll have to give you a free piercing. That way it’ll look more appealing.”

The month after that he became more aggressive. He began pushing them a little more to do things they were more uncomfortable with. They fell deeper into different kinds of drugs, their relationship got more… intimate, and he began pushing the idea of feeding from them. He began a deeper talk into why they were the reason their pack didn’t want them. He started making them feel as if they should be great full he is so patient and accepting of them.

“What am I not good enough to feed from you? Is that how you feel?” He pushed the door to their apartment wide open when they tried to shut it on him.

“It’s just not something I want to get into Quinn. Not right now. I’m not even ready for that. Isn’t that intimate.” They rounded on him.

“No. It’s just me getting a free meal! It’s expensive to get good blood Wolfie. Can’t you just do one thing for me?!” He raised his voice.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

“I AM THE ONLY REASON YOUR SORRY ASS ISN’T COMPLETELY ALONE! YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL!” He stood in front of them face mere inches from theirs. “Look me in my eyes. TANK! Look at me.” His tone was burning, losing that usual smooth suave richness it had before. They looked up glaring at him and suddenly they had no control of their body.

Tank started to realize that Quinn was a bad addiction. He brought them into a bad situation. He helped them isolate themself from their pack. He got them into drug abuse and a violent group. These moments between Quinn and Tank, were the moments when they wish they hadn’t isolated themself. When they wished they could run back to Ash, Milo, David… Gabe. But they could. Couldn’t they? They could still run back. Gabe would still love them. But he had already done so much as it was. Only a few days after their third month in a relationship with Quinn, Tanker saved up enough money to buy their bike. They called Gabe up and he started helping them fix it up.

“It is a beauty Tank. Ready to get started?” He patted their back.

“Yep! More ready than ever.” They shrugged off their jacket and started grabbing their tools. Gabe got a clear view of all their new scars. Bite marks. Burn marks. Cuts. Bruises. What had they been doing. He started checking the suspension to see if there were any issues with it.

“Is everything alright Tank?”

“With the suspension? I mean yeah, I checked it out yesterday. Hey do you think I could add some more bolt on components like maybe a luggage rack?”

“I don’t know I wouldn’t mess with it like that. It has a pretty small frame as it is. But that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about you Tanker. Look at me kiddo…” at those words their eyes snapped up to meet his, slight panic on their face. “Tank… what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just, ya know I’ve been busy so I’m a little tired, that’s all…” they replied beginning to put on new tires.

“How’s you get those scars? You picking fights with a vamp?” He looked them over helping them steady the bike. They looked down to their sides after fixing on the tire.

“No. I’m fine, it’s just some petty arguments. You should see them really… I’m fine…”

“Do you wanna go to Marie? Some of these look fresh and-“ tank cut him off.

“No! No… I’m fine don’t worry…” Tank stood up dusting off their hands. “I’ll finish up the engine tomorrow… then we can work on the details…”

“Tank, you’ll let me know if there’s something going on right?”

“Definitely, I’ll let you know.” They shot him a thumbs up before they went back upside.

By the time they had been together for a year without any breakups, Tank had turned 21. Things were horrible. They would fight, physically, mentally, verbally, and then makeup. He would always go back to being the sweet Quinn they first met the first few days after they fought before turning back to the way he normally is. It was also around this time that an unempowered man started working at the mechanic shop. He was tall and lanky with auburn hair and green eyes. His face was littered with freckles and he had a kind smile. His name was Declan. He was always kind to tank no matter how many times they would brush him off or acted abrasive towards him.

Declan and Tank became closer the more they worked together and eventually became Tanks friend. He was one of the few people they were close with and trusted with their life. Tank frequently went out with him during the daytime where he would gossip to them about people he was interested in and cars that caught his eye. He was into newer models where as Tank was into the older models.

Tanker never brought Declan up to Quinn. He had a history of being possessive and taking his anger out on the wrong person. Tank wanted to do everything they could to protect him. Declan felt like a younger brother to them. They would ensure his safety at any cost.

It was late one night, two months before they would be together for two years. Tank had found Quinn attacking an unempowered human. They screamed at him to stop. Not to feed on them but he was doing it anyway.

“Get the hell away from them.” Tank yelled before shifting and growling at him.

“Aww look who it is my precious puppy.” This earned a growl from them as they snapped at him. He let the unempowered human go, and they scampered off into a nearby shop. “Since you wanted to interrupt tonight’s meal. You’re gonna become tonight’s meal.”

He lunged towards Tanker pushing them back into the alley before pushing out his fangs. He scratched at their face his nails digging deep. They snarled and shifted back to human to get out of his grasp. He fell forward and they snuck around him kicking his back to the wall. They shifted back to a wild and took a bite out of his leg. He shook his leg, his vampiric strength kicking in, he struggled to get them off even while kicking them with his other leg. When they let go they had to stop for a moment before the whole world was spinning. Tank shifted back to human and collapsed on the ground. He definitely gave them at least a concussion as they fell in and out of consciousness, blood dripping down their face. Quinn moved on top of them ready to pounce before a familiar voice could be heard.

“Tank?! What the hell?! Get off of them you creep!” Declan called out taking out his pepper spray and spraying Quinn in his face. Quinn grabbed his eyes and quickly ran off, with a little less than a scream of pain. “Tank! Tank! Hey wake up! It’s ok I’m here! Let me get you to the hospital!” Tank sat up quickly, a rush of pain surging through their brain. They grabbed a hold of Declan’s arm.

“My phone… open my phone. Front pocket. The password it’s 2222…” they mumbled out.

“Very creative. Alright who am I calling. The police, an ambulance?” He opened the dial pad.

“Call Gabe… he’s my- he’s my dad…”

“Ok! I’ll call just hang in there ok? God you look like you’ve been bitten by a vampire? Your shoulder….” He was frantic as the phone rang.

“Hey Kiddo!! What’s up?” A cheery tone came front the other end of the line.

“Sir? Hello? Is this Gabe, Tanks Dad?” His tone came across more frantic.

“Who is this? Where is Tanker?” He said worry lacing his tone. Tank gestured for Declan to put the phone on speaker.

“Gabe…?” Their voice came across weak.

“Tank what’s going on what’s wrong?” His car could be heard starting.

“Got into a fight, my friend scared em off… Gabe I’m so cold…”

“Hey! Stay with me Tank!!!” Declan almost yelled.

“It’s ok Tank, Marie is on the way. I’m on the way. We’re all on the way. Just hang in there…”

#redacted asmr #redacted audios #milo redacted #redacted darlin #redacted david #redacted sam #sam x darlin #redacted asmr asher #redactedverse #redacted asher #redacted asmr david #redacted shaw pack #redacted shifters #redacted gabe #redacted tank #redacted solaire clan #redacted quinn

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