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#totally ignoring the interviewer's question

disneyprincemuke · 6 months

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the orange peel theory * fem!driver

how many men in her life would stop to peel an orange for her if she asks randomly?

pairings: f1 grid x fem!driver

warnings: -

notes: juSt a random idea i got when i dreadfully peeled oranges for myself ugh i hate being single sometimes

guys this is the last vr update today i swear i’ve got too much times on my hands actually

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> max verstappen, #1

would be in the middle of an interview after quali when she comes up to him with a mandarin orange in hand

max stops mid sentence to look down at her in confusion but will take the orange into his hands as she asks him to peel it for her politely

he would cover the mic and whisper “can this wait? i’m in the middle of something” and she shows him her hands, perfectly manicured white nails with a frown and says “i’ll stain my nails”

and he just does it, peeling the orange as he carries on with the interview after she walks away without him knowing

when he finishes, he turns to give it to her but she’s no longer there and ends up eating the orange during his interview lol

-> logan sargeant, #2

he’d be sitting in his garage minding his own business when she comes and sits next to him with a bag of mandarin oranges in hand

he doesn’t even need to be told

he immediately reaches out and starts peeling the oranges for her, even tearing away the white strands because he knows she hates those

totally nothing to do with the fact that he’s had a crush on her forever

everything to do with the fact that they grew up together and he’s too lazy to fight

-> daniel ricciardo, #3

he’s literally just walked into the paddocks for race day

he feels all cool with all the cameras

suddenly she runs over to him with an orange in her hands and a hopeful smile

“peel this for me please?”

he does it without question

he walks the paddocks with her while peeling her orange and even sparks up conversation with her

-> lando norris, #4

literally walks away when he sees her approaching him with an orange

she’s been doing it all weekend and he refuses to be a victim

also because he’s not that fond of peeling oranges

or oranges, for that matter

she tries chasing after him but when she finally catches up, he simply ignores the request to peel the orange for her

-> pierre gasly, #10

he’ll be literally walking over to the grid for the driver’s parade

looking pretty cool in his cool fits

an orange is presented to him without question

he grins at her and thanks her for the orange

walks away and eats the orange himself

-> sergio perez, #11

would also be in the middle of an interview when she comes up with an orange

would peel it because he’s a mega dad and he’s really taken a liking to her

excuses himself from the interview to do it for her real quick

would take one piece of the orange for himself

claims it’s the taxes for making him do it instead of doing it herself

-> fernando alonso, #14

takes the orange without her saying anything

he’s always seen with seb on race weekends and is very used to her antics

literally gives her the orange peel and one piece of orange

eats the orange without her saying anything

she’s in damn near tears because she really expected fernando to peel it for her without question

-> charles lerclerc, #16

is sad that she didn’t bring him an orange too

still peels it for her though

even though he was in the middle of some paddock game with carlos

asks for a piece and because she loves him and her crush is still very much present, she simply gives him the whole orange

-> lance stroll, #18

he’d have been coming out of his racing home minding his own business

they don’t interact often because she scares him

is almost scared to say no to the orange peeling and actually says no

mutters “i always knew you hated me” as she walks away

which then makes him chase her to peel the orange for her and apologise profusely

because lance and her literally never talk and it took up all her courage to approach him with this orange, she gives him half of the orange

-> kevin magnussen, #20

asks her if she's got an extra orange for his baby girl

she literally came prepared and gives one to cute baby laura

so now kevin has to peel two oranges for two babies

outrageous, if u ask him

-> nyck de vries, #21

has unfortunately departed by the time she decided to be a menace about the orange peel theory

she thinks about him often though

they're texting buddies actually

-> yuki tsunoda, #22

literally came prepared

he's got a packet of candy he bought when he flew back to japan for a visit

she gives him the whole orange

she literally peels the orange for him in exchange for the candy

-> alex albon, #23

was literally walking to the grid for the opening ceremony of the race weekend

says no immediately

but he does change his mind and asks if he can have half if he peels it for her

peels it and takes more than half of the share

-> zhou guanyu, #24

is delighted to even see her because they don't come across one another often

is kinda touched that she asked him to peel an orange but then is disappointed to find out that he's not the first victim and that this is all a tiktok trend for her

peels it anyway

asks her to bring an extra orange if there's a next time as payment

-> niko hulkenberg, #27

she literally cannot find him

doesn't get to participate in the trend

she only saw him once that weekend and it was at the opening ceremony and she only had 1 orange for alex to peel

and on the grid in his race car

-> esteban ocon, #31

absolutely ADORES her

peels it without question

peeks around her shoulder to ask if she's brought another one for him

she says yes and that he's the only one who gets one for himself because she loves him back

-> lewis hamilton, #44

this psycho literally approaches lewis when he's on an interview panel

but that's because he asked her to do it at that time so he has a excuse to escape the panel

he's just so tired of the panel interviews

giggling with her like demons as he peels the orange

-> carlos sainz, #55

peels it for her without question

the only one to ask her why she's got so many oranges to eat and hand out

also the only one to ask her if oranges have been the only thing she's eaten all weekend

inhumanly impossible to eat this many oranges in one weekend perhaps

-> george russell, #63

is literally tearing up because she came to him to ask to peel the orange

he heard from alex what she's been doing

he's been waiting all weekend for her and was sad that it seemed like she had no intentions on letting him participate in her tiktok

she feels so bad for him that she joins him in peeling an orange as well

-> valtteri bottas, #77

is confused because he's just minding his own business using his phone during the driver's briefing

peels the orange for her anyway

asks if oranges are her favourite fruit

suggests eating something less acidic to avoid a tummyache

-> oscar piastri, #81

if anyone's tired of her being a menace with all these oranges, it's going to be him

but because he knows she'll pick a fight if he says no

he will peel the orange reluctantly

takes a picture with the orange because it's the same shade as the mclaren shirt he is wearing

— bonus

-> liam lawson, #30

asks her to fuck off

only ask him to peel an orange when she's lost all the ability to peel one for herself

asks her if he can have one from her orange stash

she says no in tears because he cussed at her

shrugs and walks away

-> sebastian vettel, #5

this clinically insane woman has got this 4 time world champion peeling oranges on the pit wall during qualifying

has him throw her a peeled orange in between laps during qualifying

eats it in the car for a racing 'buff' before she drives out for a lap

she's got too many oranges so he helps her eat some of them

eating oranges = beating mclaren = beating oscar because they're all the same colour and have a correlation obviously

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @sadg3

#f1 grid x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #sebastian vettel x reader

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spacedace · 1 year

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So I've seen a lot of "Jazz works as a therapist at Arkam" in the dp x dc fandom, and while I like the concept, I also feel like Jazz would take one look at the place and immediately be like "what the absolute fuck" at just the everything of the place.

Like, she either nopes out after the tour during the interview or quits not too long afterward starting there, not because she can't take it but because she's so appalled by what's going on there and can smell the corruption rolling off the place and knows no one sent to there is ever actually going to get the help they need.

So Jazz decides to open a private practice instead while still being absolutely determined to work with the various rogues in the city, she is here to help and nothing is going to stop her.

So she just starts showing up at known hangouts of rogues and during their heists/schemes/sprees, and even fights between them and the batfam, just like

"Hi! It’s so nice to meet you! My name is Dr. Jasmine Fenton/Nightingale/whatever last name she’s using and I was hoping we could talk!"

Casually kicks a baterang away without looking because she's being polite and professional!

"I understand that your experience with therapy through Arkam has been nothing but atrocious and that you are rightfully -"

Kicks Batman away without breaking eye contact or a sweat.

"Suspicious of attempting therapy again, and Idon't want to force anything on you, therapy should be on your terms after the experiences you've had but -"

Grabs Robin out of the air as he leaps at the rogue she's talking to and tucks him under her arm, ignoring his feral hissing and all attempts to break her hold.

"-I really think that you'd find it beneficial, even if I'm not the right therapist for you."

The rogue in question is having the time of their life and takes Jazz's business card - and a few extra to pass around - not really intending to actually ever book a therapy appointment with her but way too entertained and excited to share this madness with everyone else.

But then one of the rogues actually looks up Jazz's website and sees all the various safe guards she’s put in place to ensure that any villians that come to her will be protected while seeing her - soundproof therapy room, regular sweeps for listening and tracking devices, the most insane firewalls and protections anyone has ever seen on her network, and ooh she provides snacks and drinks!

So someone finally books an appointment with her, half convinced she's either going to turn them in or is a villain herself intent to experiment on them, but then it’s actually really nice??? And they feel a lot better afterwards?? She doesn't even say anything to indicate that she wants them to stop being villains, she just wants them to be okay??

So more and more rogues start going to her, and Batman was already losing his mind about this woman before - Oracle can't hack her system?!? And her background check shows a totally normal Psychiatrist?? - but now half of Gotham's heavy hitters and a dozen or so other minor league villains are seeing her regularly and every time he tries to get info on any plans the rogues might be scheme via her office it fails utterly. Nightwing got knocked out with something called a creep stick and when he tried to break in himself to get answers she just appeared out of no where and gave him the most scathing lecture about doctor-patient confidentiality before bullying him off her property and threatening to sick her brother on him if he tried again?

And because she's become such a figure in the Gotham underworld, she gets the attention of Joker.

And everyone, rogues and Bats alike, are terrified that she’s going to try and take him on as a patient like she has so many other villains in the city and that's just a recipe for tragedy.

But then the Joker is on his way to the hospital with two broken legs and the fear of god beat into him babbling about eldritch nightmares and whenever anyone asks Jazz what happened she just shrugs and just says things like "I refused him as a patient, he's not my problem." Or "My brother doesn't like clowns." And just, does not elaborate.

Batman is losing his mind over it all. Jazz is just happy to be able to actually help the rogues. Arkam is less happy about how she absolutely destroys their reputation.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jazz fenton #batman #jazz becomes Gotham's favorite Psychiatrist for villains #Tucker is the one keeping her network secure #and maybe starts a small hacking war with oracle #the Joker showed up trying to turn Jazz into the next Harley Quinn and ended up face to face with a visiting Danny #Harley eventually recovers enough herself to get her license back and joins Jazz's practice #she works with civilians though because of all the conflict of interest with everyone else #weirdly anytime she has a patient who is dealing with someone abusing them the abuser mysteriously disappears #oracle #batfam #eldritch danny

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doomdoomofdoom · 25 days

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If you've been boycotting Eurovision, you may have missed out on how bad it truly was, so here are a few events in no particular order:

The opening act of the semi-finals was Eric Saade, a swedish-palestinian singer who participated in Eurovision 2011. He wore a keffiyeh, a palestinian headdress, around his arm like a wristband.

Despite not making any political statements or drawing attention to his accessory, he was reprimanded by the EBU for "compromising the non-political nature of the event".

During their semi-final performance, the Irish contestant had the word "ceasefire" in old irish runes painted on their face. They were ordered to change it for the final, as it was deemed too political.

The contestant from Israel was not allowed to mingle with the other contestants, due to supposed security risks.

During an Interview, she was asked if she felt any concerns over her participation potentially endangering the event and the people present. The host told her she did not have to answer this question. Dutch contestant 'Joost' asked "why not?"

Joost, while not openly antagonizing the Israeli contestant, has made covert critical remarks about the EBUs decision to allow Israel to participate.

On Friday, the day before the Finale, Joost was investigated by the swedish police for a supposed incident where he threatened an EBU crew member. Thursday, a female camera operator had followed him off-stage to continue filming, even though there was an agreement not to film him off-stage. After she ignored his requests to stop, he threatened her with some sort of gesture.

Joost was disqualified mere hours before the finale. He was slotted to perform just before Israel and considered a favorite and potential winner.

The show itself did not address his disqualification. The dutch entry was simply skipped with no further comment.

Israeli broadcaster KAN was confirmed to have broken EBU rules during their coverage of the Irish act in the Semifinal. The commentator spoke negatively about their act, condemning the very scary goth aesthetic, and noting their willingness to criticize Israel's actions.

Despite Irish contestant Bambie Thug lodging a complaint with the EBU, there was no penalty or other repercussion.

If you were hoping that the event itself would turn into some sort of protest, I have to disappoint you:

Despite rumors of other contestants dropping out over Joost's disqualification, all of them performed.

There was audible booing every time Israel was on-screen, including their performance, announcement of points, and every time they received points. There was equally audible cheering.

No contestant or spokesperson directly addressed the ""controversy"" (read: ongoing genocide being artwashed), although very few made covert remarks about peace, love, dignity, and equality.

The most explicit it got was the Austrian spokesperson, saying something along the lines of "It's hard to find only positive words in a time where heartlessness prevails. But we hope everyone can unite through music and show that everyone deserves to be treated equally"

No one stormed on stage or held up a palestinian flag or anything, if you were hoping for that. I certainly was.

Israel gave its 12 points (both Jury and public) to Luxembourg. The singer is half-israeli and born in Jerusalem.

Jury votes mostly ignored Israel, netting them a total of 52 points through jury votes, which put them somewhere in the middle of the scoreboard. Norway, Cyprus, and Germany awarded them 8 points each, making them the main contributors.

In contrast, Israel received 323 points from the public voting. They were second only to Croatia with 337. 15 public votings, including "rest of the world" awarded Israel their 12 points, more than any other country would receive. The only countries not to award any points to Israel in the public vote were Croatia and Ukraine.

Israel thereby placed 5th out of 25.

But hey, at least the winner (Switzerland) was nonbinary, diversity win amirite. Notably, they had to smuggle in their pride flag, since EBU guidelines only allow flags of participating countries and the rainbow flag. (This is also why palestinian flags were not allowed. It's not a new rule, but they certainly weren't going to start bending it now.)

If there's one thing to take away from this: Do not ever think the rest of the world is on your side, just because your social media is. The rest of the world has shown their allegiance, and it lies with Israel and Genocide.

Do not stop fighting for what is right.

#esc 2024 #eurovision #boycott eurovision #joost klein #boycott israel #palestine #long post #political #bambie thug #ceasefire #what a world we live in that asking for a ceasefire is considered hateful and political #“stop killing each other” should not be a controversial take #also im not interested in any discourse about it #this is a retelling and some numbers on it #go bother someone else if you must

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xe-n4 · 4 months

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slow starts

feat. sae note: i just needed some fluff (life is so hard 😢), unedited contains: fluff, possibly ooc total: 727

Before you opened your eyes, you felt his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Sae laced his fingers with yours and rubbed the back of your hand.

“Mornin’,” he said in his raspy morning voice.

“Shut up,” you groaned. Slowly opening an eye, the sun-illuminated curtains flooded your vision and brightened your bedroom. Mild irritation built within you before you eventually rolled over and pressed yourself against Sae.

He rolled his eyes before kissing your forehead. “It’s morning, y/n.” Sae reached over to the side table for his phone, trying not to jostle you too much. 11:17. He kissed his teeth at the frustration of sleeping in much later than he intended to, which explained why he felt so groggy.

“It’s eleven in the morning, y/n. We—”

“All the more reason to stay in bed.” You placed a finger to his lips. “Stop talking so I can go back to sleep,” you whispered.

“You’ll have to get up eventually.”

You didn’t respond, ignoring everything Sae said to capture any remnants of sleep you had left.

Sae scoffed but relaxed into you. He didn’t want to admit it but felt nice to finally not have to get up at five every morning to train. His muscles weren’t screaming in exhaustion, and he could finally recharge his social battery. The stress of travelling the world for the last 4 months had gotten the best of him. Constant training, games, and interviews, rinse and repeat.

Sae sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe you were right, this is the perfect excuse to lie in even if it was for an extra hour before he forced himself to become human again.

That is until the sound of your stomach growling cut through the air like a hot knife to butter.

“Hey Sae?”

He hummed without opening his eyes.

“I think you might be hungry. And I also think you should make us breakfast.”

“What? That wasn’t me—”

“Oh, you should definitely make waffles,” you sighed, almost salivating at the thought.

“We don’t have a waffle iron.” Sae began to shuffle to the edge of the bed to put his slippers on. “I’ll make pancakes—he stood up—and you’re helping me.”

Before you registered what he’d said, Sae had already thrown you over his shoulder and was carrying you to the kitchen. He put you down and instructed that you get the ingredients from the fridge while he got everything else.

Cooking with Sae was like working a well operated machine. He’d set up stations around the kitchen to avoid bumping into each other, but he just had an air of authority about him, especially when he was concentrating.

After mixing together the pancake batter, you watched his piercing green eyes as they focused on the task at hand, flipping the pancakes. It may not seem like serious business but Sae liked his pancakes to be even on both sides. He was always very proud of himself when he’d manage to pull it off, walking around with a smug smile until his inflated ego was ultimately burst by the fact that pancakes were meant to be eaten, not hung as trophies.

You cleaned up while Sae set the table, bringing out the extortionately expensive maple syrup you only used for special occasions, such as Saturday mornings. It’s Thursday.

When you sat down at the table, you questioned him about it.

“What? I can’t treat my girl?”

You raised an eyebrow before digging in. “Thish ish sho good,” you said with your mouth full.

“Are they? Maybe we should start a business. Pancake restaurant? It’s a very unique idea”

“Shut up and answer my question.”

Sae put down his utensils and cleared his throat which made your ears perk up. “I’m thinking of taking a break from football…not for long, just for a season.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” You leaned back into your seat. “I thought you were gonna tell me something crazy.”

“But this is important, it affects you too.”

“I know, but I also know you’ve been stressed—you put your hand over his—take care of yourself before you start thinking about anyone else, okay?”

He nodded while pressing his lips together in disgust.

Your brows raised in confusion.

Sae gently lifted your hand off of his. “You’re sticky.”

You scoffed before rolling your eyes and continuing your breakfast.

m.list | like & reblog

#by xena #blue lock #bllk sae #blue lock sae #sae x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #bllk x reader #bllk x you #sae x y/n #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi fluff #sae fluff #bllk fluff

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bigfatbimbo · 1 month

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Saw somebody mentioning Vox meeting his assistant Dom in hell and I’m just imagining him doing some PR event, flashing that million dollar smile and shmoozing when he looks into the crowd and freezes.

It’s not uncommon for people not to recognize those who they knew in life because of how crazy the changes can be (he has a tv head for hell’s sake) but he recognizes that posture and that confident, no-nonsense look. It’s kind of like looking at a fun house mirror version of someone he used to know.

At this point, he’s been dead for a while and enough time has passed to establish himself (maybe the vees are already a thing or maybe he’s on the rise) so he’s already put his past behind him in exchange for the new and trendy. But now he’s having a flashback to firm hands, a stern voice, and late nights in his office. He blue screens a bit and has to laugh it off in front of the interviewers.

After: It makes sense that you’d be in hell, maybe you’ve been here a while without him knowing. He remembers how good you were at your job. In life you were resourceful and ruthless, taking pride in doing the impossible.

If you were working for someone else it could cause serious trouble for his company. You could also be a major asset if hired but…

Hell is a lot more lax than 1950s America but he’s built a very specific image for himself and power is EVERYTHING down here. He thought he had rebuilt himself and put it all behind him but this could risk everything.

He’d be careful this time, keep you at a distance. He could have you as a skilled worker AND keep his pride intact. It’s a big company, you won’t even have to be in the same room. And he’s so much stronger than he used to be. He can keep his image, it won’t happen again and he totally isn’t thinking about it.

Maybe the assistant joins, maybe she doesn’t… or maybe she makes him beg

-Friday

Friday anon you have a way with words oh my god because I love this idea so much. Lowkey you really sold this, you’d be a good writer ☝️🤨

But the way this would throw him through a crazy ass loop. Because he’s probably built himself up in his head, and being an overlord with a, quite literally, inhuman amount of power, he definitely has a new standard for himself.

Because now it’s more than just gender roles and fragile masculinity, it’s an even more fragile god complex. So to think he’s grown out of whatever submissive, borderline weak phase he was in during life isn’t exactly out of the question.

Part of him didn’t want to risk it, but you working for another overlord could cause problems. With his new empire on the rise, he could use an efficient, overachiever type of worker. However, the one thing that would change was the dynamic.

Simply put, there wouldn’t be one. Although he could use your help for his business, an arms length distance would be more than appropriate. After all, being seen as weak in hell could have a more dire effect.

Good thing that wouldn’t be a problem; a strong man in life makes a stronger one in death, after all. So he approaches you after the PR event, trying to act as casual as possible, treating as a ‘Y/n, how longs it been!? Decades?” kind of conversation. Acting as if your relationship was never as intimate as it really was.

Thankfully, you knew to go along with his casual tone, just like he trusted you would. However, you went along with it a little too well. His ‘arms length’ approach was working extraordinarily well, however thanks you to you. His plan was to ignore you in hallways, maybe a small wave at best, and only engage when he specifically had too.

But even then, in closed off hallways in the off chance of seeing each other, his small nod would be greeted with absolute silence. Not even a look in his direction. This has happened a few times, no look, no wave, not even a shoulder bump. Scarily formal.

Were you mad? No, you wouldn’t have wasted time being petty. But if nothing you’ve done has been petty, that means you really just didn’t care. You got your work done, at an incredible pace, as per usual, exceeding all other workers. Your name was known throughout the office and the more business deals you closed for Voxtech, throughout the small business clicks of hell.

But you stayed loyal, not to Vox, but to Voxtech. Did that mean you did care? No, Vox supposed, it meant that just as in life, you liked to finish jobs you started, or at the very least not abruptly switch bases. So does that mean you and Vox’s incredibly hot work affair meant nothing to you?

…Because it didn’t to him either. But there were days he’d catch a glimpse of you in the offices working, and he can’t help but let his mind wonder to those late nights. He’d always put up a fight, but you and your stern tone and firm hands elegantly broke him down, each and every time.

The shame he’d felt at being overpowered and conquered by his female assistant, but his hunger for more lingered on his mind just like your perfume lingered through the rooms you exited.

It’d been years, but seeing as it was the hottest sex in his life and death, he’d remembered the little details; the smell of your hair, your hands, the dominance in your voice, your knowing look, your lips, fuck your hands… and now it’s late and most of everybody else is gone. And Vox makes his way over to your office.

Your door is open, but he still knocks his knuckles against the wood, lingering in the door frame, “Knock, knock.”

You recognize the voice, raise an eyebrow, and to Vox’s dismay, barely glance up your paperwork. Setting your mug on your desk, you adjust yourself on the chair, telling him to “Come in.”

“Y/n,” Vox brushes off a speck of lint off his suit jacket and grins, “Thought I’d check on your work. If i’m correct, you have important paperwork to turn in?”

He hoped he was. In all honesty, he didn’t pay much attention to the employees specific jobs unless it purposely inconvenienced or benefited him. Otherwise, he didn’t check what various paperwork was delivered or checked by who.

You smile, “Just finishing up, easy stuff. It’ll be a breeze for you, just a few signatures.”

Setting your papers down, you finally look at him, “Will that be all, sir?”

Vox’s smile drops. No, it shouldn’t be. It simply didn’t feel right for it to be. But your look wasn’t questioning, instead almost amused, as if you were expecting this, and looking forward to his leaving.

Without anything else to do, Vox simply stalled. Did you think to do this? What about this other thing? Well this is nearly impossible so surely you hadn’t done this! But, some things never change. And you had in fact done everything. Not only that, but your smile grew with every task you’ve already accomplished.

Finally Vox snapped. Just as he’s done before, blabbering aimlessly about your overachieving, meaninglessly raising his voice is his facade display of dominance.

Then you stood up, and considered his outburst. “You know, i’ve been getting other offers. Companies who ‘care’ more. Pay more,” he goes silent, “You want me to stay?”

He nods, going to say something else before you cut him off.

“Anything else you want?” you drawl, backing him into the door.

“Hold on—“

“Beg.” And he does.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin vox x reader

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charles-eclair16 · 11 months

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~The 5 times Charles talked about you publicly~

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x actress!reader.

Warning- it's my first time ever writing so please be kind. English is not my first language so please ignore it if there are any mistakes.

1. The first time Charles was caught talking about you was pure accident and it wasn't even him who brought you up. It was an overly competitive Carlos who couldn't keep his mouth shut. It was during a C² challenge of who knows your teammate better and it was all going pretty much in Charles favour because the questions were too easy according to him. So when the score was 6 to 4 he was feeling pretty confident about winning but what he didn't expect was the next question to throw him off.

"Who's your current crush?" Was honestly not a difficult question to answer and Charles knew he would nail it. He totally knew who Carlos was crushing on.

"It's Y/N! He watches her interviews and giggles because she's so beautif-oww mate stop hitting me!“ Charles knew he had to make his teammate stop talking before he spilled anything more.

"Is it true?" Now this was a question Charles didn't know how to answer, should he own up that he was hopelessly crushing on her and that it was true that he watched all her interviews. But then again who could blame him she was so beautiful and he honestly loved the way she spoke, something about the way she spoke made Charles want to listen to her for hours.

"Yeah it's true. I really like her as an actress and she's very pretty but I don't giggle watching her!" He thought that was a decent answer.

"He does! He does it! He even watches fan edits of h-" Carlos was cut off by a wildly flinging hand of Charles.

" I do not!" was what Charles could come up with as he tried to stop Carlos. The next day he woke up with thousands of mentions of fans telling him that they understood...he didn't knew if he should feel embarrassed or laugh at some of the memes. He even liked a few of them.

2. The second time Charles mentioned you it was after you had soft launched each other for two months without the fans knowledge. It was nice to share secret moments with each other and bask in the privacy of home dates. It had been 7 months of dating and Charles was on the moon. His car was great, he was leading the championship with 10 points and he had a wonderful women supporting him. The only thing which bothered him was him not being able to shout his love and show you off to the world. So a mutual decision was taken between you two to not hide anymore but what you didn't expected was Charles to come running towards you as he got out of the car after coming p2 in the Silverstone Grand prix. You weren't even able to utter a word before he was kissing you. It wasn't a peck it was Charles expressing his love and gratitude for your unwavering support.

" How does winning feels now? Much sweeter than before?" Was the teasing question he got as he went to the post race interviews. He wasn't surprised. He knew he was going to get questions after a public kiss.

"Yeah, it feels great winning here with Carlos coming p1. It's a great weekend for our team" he laughed as he answered the question.

" So I'm sure you have plans to celebrate tonight. Any special plans?" He knew what the interviewer wanted to hear so he gave it to him with a smile so big he knew his dimples were all out.

" Yeah there's a plan to celebrate tonight definitely, the teams been throwing different ideas but honestly I would just prefer to spend my time with my girlfriend and have a quiet night. She came directly from her shooting so I'm sure she would want to stay in. And we can party with the team next time!"

It was safe to say that they both were trending worldwide.

3. At first Charles didn't know why he was trending and before he could check it he was asked to hurry up and get in the car. It was the worst race of the season for him. He was leading the race with pole position in France but he lost traction in his rear tyres and crashed into turn 11 which caused him the race. He was frustrated and tired. He just wanted to go back and not think about the horrible way he got out of the race. He wanted to cuddle you and forget about the day so when he was told to to attend a group media pen he was annoyed. When the question came he was speechless at first his brain shutting down from the ridiculous question.

" It's a very bad time for you Charles with the dnf and your recent breakup so how do you seperate these things from your work? Did your breakup caused you maybe to lose?" He wasn't aware of his break up.

"My what?!" Charles was shocked he didn't knew he was broken up because he was not planning to break up anywhere in the future.

"You didn't tell me you broke up?!" Perrie was genuinely confused now. If it was true wouldn't Kika tell him that? He knew the girls were close and he was sure that Charles would tell him that, wouldn't he?

"What did you do?" It was Lewis who glared at Charles and he finally got his wits to answer.

"No! We are very much together and happy! Who told you that we broke up?! Is that why I was trending Today?"

"Yes there was news that you broke up with your girlfriend and that you were heartbroken." The interviewer nervously let out a chuckle which caused the drivers to laugh

"Oh my god! No! We are together and I plan to be together for a long time so there's no need to worry about that ...I don't think I would survive without her pasta to be honest and her too." He reassured.

When he finally got the chance to check his notifications later in the night he could only laugh as he looked at the memes and the threats he got for fumbling a baddie like Y/N. He showed her some too as she layed on his chest on their bed.

4. The fourth time Charles gets asked is the first time he felt nervous talking about you ever in the entire 5 year relationship. It was because he knew he was absolute shit at lying. So when all the fellow drivers continue to tease Daniel for throwing the wedding party of the year. He remains quite and laughs at appropriate times.

" Charles you're quite there! So now that your friends are settling down with Daniel and Max getting married is it safe to assume that you're next?" Oh shit! He was sweating. He didn't know how to answer that without revealing that he had already picked a ring and was going to propose very soon. He had even taken her father's approval last month on their family trip together.

"Yes mate when are you getting married?"

"He's definitely getting married next!"

"With how whipped he is for her how do have any doubts about that!“ Charles tried to tune out the teasing remarks of his friends to formulate words to answer.

" Uh yeah, I would very much like to but we are focusing on the present at the moment but there's no doubt that I plan to marry her because honestly I can't imagine anyone else by my side when I think of my future. I want to start a family with her and get old with her. She completes me in the true sense and is my piller of strength. I don't think I have ever felt this much love for anyon-"

"And this is why we don't question Charles because then he doesn't stop!" Charles laughed at that as if Max was any better when talking about his wife.

"So yeah marriage is definitely on the cards on the future " he concluded.

And after 2 months he knew why he was trending and he couldn't be more happier. He now laughed at the mentions and yes he knew how to fight for his fiance.

5. The fifth time Charles was asked about you he was smiling ear to ear and anyone who looked at him can see that he was glowing.Others would say it was because he was starting the new season as a world champion but he knew it was because of Y/N and what she had told him the night before and later to their closed ones. So he felt quite happy answering questions.

"How are you feeling for the new season? Excited? Nervous?" the interviewer couldn't stop himself from smiling too. Charles happiness was contagious.

"It feels good to be back to the racing. The car feels good and after last year we are quite excited for this season too. We are looking forward to the races and with new tracks added to the calendar the excitement levels have increased. Yeah there's nervousness too-ah only little bit but that's totally normal...But I am quite confident! Also now I have to be a little careful because now that we are going to have new addition to the family I can't risk it! I have to-"

"New addition?" He stopped talking eyes widened and looked at the camera.

"What?" He was fucked, so fucked. She was going to kill him. He knew.

"You told new addition? Is it true? Are you going to be a father? Congratulations!" He could only nod and accept the hug he was receiving. They were supposed to announce it with a cute insta post and he had ruined it. He was the one to suggest it, he had even thought about the caption.

"Tell us more! Is she going to come to the races now? I'm sure everyone would like that?!" The interview continued

"Oh yes! Yes she wants to come to the races but I think we'll keep it a little private and only between family to enjoy this moment together. It's a new beginning with my person so I want to be there for her at every step. Its- it's definitely a blessing for us and I'm so grateful for her."

The next thing he knew he was trending along with y/n as parents and he couldn't ask for anything more.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 instagram au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 #formula 1 #fic rec #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagine #pierre gasly #max verstappen f1 #cl16 fanfic #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

1K notes · View notes

revehae · 4 months

Text

indulgence

pairing ↠ killer!johnny × (f) detective reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, graphic depictions of murder, graphic depictions of violence, noncon, mentions of pregnancy, johnny is 43

summary ↠ you're an accomplished detective in the detroit area and johnny suh is a prolific serial killer. when your department sends you on its behalf to pull back his layers, you attempt to convince johnny to recount his experiences and unravel the mystery once and for all.

wc ↠ 10.3k

a/n ↠ this is a repost. it is connected to do you like it, dr. lee? but can be read as a standalone story. this fic is somewhat darker than my usual fics and i encourage readers to proceed with caution and heed the warnings; you have been advised.

don’t like it, don’t read.

the deepest prick of unease settled through you and you shuddered from its nipping cold.

killers were your forte, but none like this. never in your life had you ever met a killer who’d been at their craft for over a decade. they typically got sloppy after the first half, which insinuated that this johnny suh guy, whoever he was, was far from an amateur.

“gate twelve,” came the guard’s voice, speaking into a transmitter. he was to escort you to johnny’s holding room.

the gate lifted. behind it, you clocked the riveting face of detroit’s worst nightmare, hands cuffed at his back as he sat facing you. there was a sort of twisted grin on his face, not as if he was excited to have a visitor, but excited his visitor had been you.

“good luck with this guy. officers tried to get him to budge. he didn’t take the fifth, but the bastard’s damn good at talking in circles,” the guard whispered in your ear.

“duly noted,” you replied quietly, stepping further and taking the seat across from johnny.

the guard left you to your devices, shutting the door behind you and leaving through the passage that led to the gate. complete and total privacy was the only way johnny agreed to talk. your department initially refused, insisting there should at least be one or two other officers monitoring the interview, but you let him have his way.

if you wanted to get this man to talk, that was your only option.

“hello, johnny. i’m detective ___ from the detroit police department,” you introduced yourself coolly, cloaking your nerves with confidence. never would you show a guy like this any fear.

johnny hadn’t stopped grinning since he made eye contact with you. you’d seen pictures at most and he was devilishly handsome, even more so in person, but it didn’t compensate for his unsettling aura. “that’s a beautiful name, detective.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, suh.”

“it’s gotten me here,” johnny quipped.

“yes, it has. and i suppose you already know why i’m here.”

“yes, i do,” johnny said, pleasant thus far. “you want me to tell you about the murders.”

you bobbed your head. “i do. you see, you’re an enigma to me, johnny. you turn yourself in, get fingerprinted, and all of the sudden vicap’s going off because your prints are connected to three other crimes over the past twenty-five years.”

johnny feigned surprise. “wow, it’s been that long?”

“it has,” you replied, in spite of knowing he couldn’t have not been aware. “martina mortes in 1998, sabrina lee in 2005, christine dalton in 2013, and the college professor this year.”

johnny leaned back in his chair. “i’m familiar with those names.”

“you should be. you sexually assaulted and murdered these women,” you spat, none too tender. “except for martina mortes. you only strangled her. do you want to tell me why that it is?”

“what’s the weather like today? i haven’t been outside, but summer has been kind to detroit.”

ignoring him, you persisted, “let me guess. she was your first victim and that kill, unlike the others, was spontaneous. her being dead defeated the purpose of the sex act, didn’t it?”

“well, do you like your partners warm or cold, detective?” johnny asked, deflecting.

you were heeding the guard’s warning. it seemed this guy liked to answer questions with questions, your least favorite type of offender. “that’s why when you subsequently added the sex act to part of your crimes, you kept your victims much longer, because you like to see them suffer. until you got bored. then, you killed them and dumped their bodies like trash.”

as if he was disinterested, johnny glanced to the side and yawned.

the audacity on this guy was astounding. “am i boring you, suh?”

johnny replied with total indifference, “if you think you know everything, then why are we here?”

you answered without hesitation, “because i think you’ve wanted to tell someone about what you’ve done for a long time, johnny. but you realize that you’re not like other people. i’m giving you the opportunity to get it all off of your chest.”

johnny cocked his head to the side, as if he was contemplating your offer. his face was borderline inscrutable. it was difficult, if not impossible, to decipher what he was thinking.

you restrained from heaving a breath. there was a crushing weight on your shoulders, the expectation to get this guy to crack. if you couldn’t do it, nobody would - ever. “how many victims do you have?”

“four.” johnny’s answer was quick, automatic. like he didn’t even have to think about it for a second.

folding your arms on the table, you shook your head. “no, i just don’t think that’s true. see, we’re pretty sure martina mortes, your high school girlfriend, was your first victim, and the college professor was your last.”

johnny cocked a brow. “but?”

“but there’s no way someone like you could’ve resisted your urges between four kills over the past two decades and then some.”

there was no point in denying the four victims, because you already had substantial proof. nor did johnny deny that martina was his first victim, because given the decomposition of the bodies, she died long before the other three. admitting that she wasn’t would be admitting that there were unfound others.

and johnny had no intention of implicating himself more than he already had. the only reason he turned himself in was because he didn’t want to prolong the inevitable, for whatever reason. he pulled his lips into a mock frown. “your assumptions about my self-restraint are hurtful,” he replied.

whatever, moron, you thought irritability. “i think they’re more than just assumptions.”

johnny teased, “then, let me know when you know something.”

you narrowed your eyes, groaning, “oh, come on. i know and you know that you can’t ignore your desires for a month, let alone over ten years. you have a compulsion. killing makes you feel powerful, it makes you feel in control, and you can’t live without the high it gives you.”

“you make me sound like an addict,” johnny remarked, pretending to be offended.

“it wouldn’t be so far from the truth,” you said, glancing over the file at your end of the table. “the first two kills were seven years apart. the second two kills were ten. full offense, i don’t see how you could control yourself for so long.”

“you can believe what you want, detective. i didn’t kill anyone else,” johnny lied, not that you ever needed to know.

of course, he couldn’t control himself. the second he took someone’s life, it became a part of him, and his purpose in this world became clear to him. for the first time in his life, he felt as if he had something that made living worthwhile.

you surrendered. it was obvious johnny was intelligent and he wouldn’t be easily tricked into confessing. “okay, fine. let’s talk about the victims we know of. tell me about martina mortes.”

“what is there to tell?” johnny asked, brow cocked. “we met in junior high. then, in eleventh grade, we got together.”

“tell me about why you killed her,” you insisted, painfully curious. “it happened in chicago, before you moved to detroit over the summer. you killed her in the heat of the moment.”

johnny gave the impression that he would take a minute to crack, so you were surprised when he said in response to your prodding, “we got into a wrangle, if you will.”

that much was obvious. “what kind of wrangle?”

the garage was hot and the air was stuffy, making it difficult to breathe. to say nothing of the frustration scorching johnny’s skin, his face tensed into an irritated glower.

there was something about women he never liked, the seemingly inherent ability to blow almost anything out of proportion, as exhibited now as his girlfriend screamed in his face. his stepmother was the same, never not coming up with a reason to fuss at him. he was always walking on eggshells around that woman.

martina was bristling. “you always fucking do this, johnny.”

johnny heaved a breath, sighing, “what - what do i always do, martina?”

“you trivialize everything i go through. you make me feel like i’m overreacting when i’m not, you just refuse to hold yourself accountable,” she spat.

“martina, we’re about to go to college, for fuck’s sake! you can’t focus on your academics and a goddamn child. i don’t get why you won’t just have an abortion and call it a day,” johnny roared, heating up a thousand degrees.

“god, do you listen to a word that comes out of my mouth? my parents will kill me, johnny. if not for being pregnant at eighteen, then for killing it.”

johnny sighed. “i don’t see the part where that’s my problem.”

tears blurred martina’s eyes. she came up to him, shattered by his careless and embraced by isolation, and bellowed, “you want to know what your problem is? your problem is that you’re an incompetent bastard with no regard for other people!”

johnny’s body was engulfed in flames but his shoulders were cold, and he lost control of his emotions, grabbing martina by the throat. he effortlessly lifted her with a single hand and smashed her against the closest wall none too gently, watching her eyes wince closed.

“you wanna say that again?” johnny asked, nothing short of belligerent.

ache spread out through the back of martina’s head, a ceaseless throbbing worse than any hungover. her feet dangled off of the ground, waving and kicking, fingers weakly prying at the ones pressing down on her windpipe. until she was completely still, legs dropping, hands going limp at her sides.

“i didn’t even realize how long i spent standing there, until she felt… empty, and i knew she was gone,” johnny confessed, but his tone was far from sympathetic. “she scratched me. you know, when she was trying to pry my hands off. i didn’t know until hours later.”

you shook your head, disdainful. “you killed your pregnant girlfriend?”

johnny groaned, “oh, please. i was eighteen. i would’ve been a terrible father.”

“i would be slightly more inclined to accept that as an excuse if it weren’t for the fact that you had a son by sabrina lee only two years later,” you said viciously.

“a lot can change in two years.”

“i’m sure it did.” your eyes flickered over the file again, but nothing would allow you to familiarize yourself with this killer more than talking to him yourself. “for example, you realized just how much you liked killing.”

if johnny could’ve raised his hands, he would’ve. “your words, not mine.”

you leaned over the table, unrelenting. “tell me about it, johnny. how did it feel when you strangled her with your bare hands? what was it like?”

johnny chuckled. “is that what you wanna hear?”

you nodded.

johnny leaned in too, getting closer to you, and whispered in your ear, “i squeezed every last breath out of her, one by one, until there was nothing left for her brain and she went slack in my arms. and when i was done, i felt elated. i felt free. it woke up this dormant sensation inside of me that i swore to never repress again, because it made me feel alive.”

your lungs started to feel shallower, like no breath could reach the bottom, and you sensed your heart come to a halt for a minute. johnny pulled back, grinning from ear to ear, as if he was proud of himself.

“detective, did i startle you?” johnny asked, tilting his head ever so slightly.

your face hardened. “why would you ever think that?”

“you’re not as good at feigning indifference as you think you are, detective. full offense,” he mimicked, mocking.

he’s just a fragile man that kills women to make him feel better about himself, because he needs to be in control. don’t give him power over you. that’s what he wants, you said to yourself, shutting any and all other thoughts. “so, you killed martina, nobody could connect her disappearance to you, and by the time they discovered her body you were already studying for college two states over.”

johnny ignored you, at least for a little. he was taking a liking to making you feel uneasy around him. “has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked out of nowhere.

“you aren’t my type. i don’t fool around with serial killers,” you replied sharply.

johnny didn’t seem to be offended, but you didn’t expect him to. “really now? it feels like we’re on a date right now. after all, we are getting to know each other.”

you asked, “have you always had such a distorted perception of normal human interaction?”

johnny shot with no hesitation, “have you always had such a sharp mouth?”

you pulled yourself together. the only way you would get anywhere with this guy was by establishing that you were the one in control. “okay, enough. this is my interview, suh. you answer my questions, not vice versa.”

“that’s not any fair,” johnny told you, that unnerving smile still on his lips. “i don’t have to tell you anything, you know. and without me, you lose the only key to those answers you want so badly.”

“you shutting up doesn’t make much of a difference, considering you’re already dodging my questions,” you replied.

“let’s play a game,” johnny suggested.

you weren’t in the mood for any games, but that was johnny’s method of operation. “i don’t like games.”

“you’ll like this one,” johnny insisted, laughing. “twenty questions.”

your shoulders dropped. “am i supposed to be guessing something?”

johnny shook his head, something sinister about him. “no, it’s much easier than that. we take turns asking each other questions until i’ve answered ten and you’ve answered ten.”

you stared into his eyes, willing yourself not to break contact. he was just as relentless, silently cocking a brow at you, as if to challenge. and you weren’t an idiot. that’s exactly what it was. you asserted, “i go first, you can only ask me yes or no questions, and if i don’t like your final answer i get to press you for another.”

johnny slightly lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “yes, ma’am.”

“okay,” you started. “what made you move from illinois to michigan?”

“i was kicked out of the house. didn’t have anywhere else to go. but i had a buddy here whose family took me in,” johnny answered frankly.

you pondered those words, wondering if his aforementioned buddy knew about his secret indulgences. or if he asked why johnny’s parents kicked him out of their home. it would’ve been the question scratching at your mind, itching to be answered.

johnny’s lips parted. “what kind of perfume are you wearing - honey lavender?”

“yes,” you said, focusing your attention on anything but the possibilities of how he could’ve known that. he’d been with so many people to the point where he just knew. “why did you get kicked out of the house?”

“my dad always thought there was something different about me, ever since i was a child. he was a nasty piece of work. he found my journal, read a couple of things i wrote, and decided there was no hope for me in the house,” johnny ranted.

that piqued your curiosity. “what did you write about?”

“wait your turn,” johnny sang. “your hair smells just as lovely as the rest of you. do you match scents all the time?”

you were mildly uncomfortable, but given the type of dude he was, you stifled it. “yes. you don’t have to be such a pervert all the time, you know?”

again, johnny rolled his shoulders, chirping, “you call it perverse. i call it amusing.”

you almost cursed under your breath when you realize you’d asked him a question. “wait, i didn’t mean to ask…”

johnny cut you off, “that’s too bad. it’s my turn again. do you like necklaces?”

“not ones made out of fingers,” you retorted. it was meant to be a joke to hide how unsettled you were, hyper aware of the necklace dangling around your neck. you could feel invisible pressure on your throat.

johnny snickered. “i’ll admit that was funny.”

you pressed, “what did you write about in the journal?”

“my dreams,” he admitted vaguely, though in reality, he wrote endlessly about his corrupt fantasies of abusing women. some pages were about his stepsister, and there was a few about what he’d done to martina, though not explicitly. “you have the most beautiful eyes. they’re the perfect shade.”

you were certain he had told many other girls those same words and were not flattered in the slightest. the glare you were giving him was ferocious. “i’m not sure if there’s a question in there somewhere.”

“do you think your eyes are pretty?”

“i haven’t really thought about it,” you told him, quick to change the topic. you’d encountered your fair share of stranglers and it was no secret why he was so interested in your eyes. “was your relationship with your father estranged?”

“nothing was enough for that man. i had the top grades in my class and the highest gpa, and he took my door off its hinges and seized my privacy,” johnny told you, words harsh, but his tone plain. “he was obsessed with being the perfect family, something that was ruined the second my mother destroyed everything, and rather than embrace me, he turned me away.”

your eyes flickered. there was something about his language that stood out to you. courtesy of the research you’d done on him beforehand, you were aware that his father was divorced then remarried his stepmother, who already had a daughter johnny’s age. but rather than describe his parent’s separation as a divorce, he said his mother destroyed everything.

what a hostile view towards women, you mused, repulsed. but given the nature of his crimes, it adds up. and it might’ve been the origin of his hatred.

his family was twisted. you couldn’t fathom how his father, aware of just how unwell his son was, clocked his abusive fantasies towards women, and instead of getting him the help he needed, he left him to his own devices to slaughter them as he pleased.

you blinked when johnny leaned, craning his face towards yours, and snapped out of your reverie when you jolted back.

“there you are,” johnny said, chuckling at your surprise. it was all over your face. “i’ve been talking to myself all this time. you must’ve been thinking about me.”

“no, not really. i was wondering if i forgot to feed my dog last night.” it was an obvious lie, but you would never encourage this guy to feel more important than he was.

amusement gleamed in johnny’s eyes. he was having a wonderful time, truth be told. had you not been so pretty, he would’ve clamped up like a crab, but you were so pleasing to the eye that he didn’t mind confessing a couple of truths. “a dog. that’s interesting. i myself have always wanted a pet - a snake. the constricting kind are my favorite.”

“you don’t say,” you droned, voice dripping with crisp irony.

your sarcasm was chucklesome to johnny, but his words were the truth. he remembered, all those years ago, asking his father for a pet snake. and when he refused, johnny, in turn, killed the family dog. he added, “they don’t just suffocate their prey. they coil around them, almost like a straitjacket, and cut off its blood supply.”

you replied, “yeah, but animals hunt to survive. you hunted because you had nothing better to do with your life.”

“in my humble opinion, we’re all animals of nature, and creatures of sin,” johnny told you in a whisper, as if he were telling you a secret of some kind. “anyways, it’s my turn now.”

you resisted a disgruntled exhale.

like his questions couldn’t get any more absurd and strangely perverse, johnny asked, “when you shower, what do you use - a washcloth or a loofah?”

“that’s not a yes or no question,” you replied with total disinterest.

“it’s hardly any less simple.”

“a washcloth,” you replied, though only because you needed to ask him your questions and resisting an answer would only waste valuable time. “why did you wait so long before killing sabrina lee?”

johnny smiled at the mention of his son’s mother, but the grin on his lips was distinguishable from the others. like he didn’t even realize he was smiling. “she was special. i loved her.”

“no, you didn’t. you don’t hurt people that you love.”

“maybe that’s true for you, but you’ve called me everything but a child of god and it’s clear you don’t think you and i are alike,” johnny said. “i don’t miss her, though, because she left a better print on this world. a world that was never made for her in the first place.”

a better print on this world. your brows furrowed, until you remembered the child they shared together. “you know what i think? i think whatever you felt for your son’s mother was the closest thing to love you’ll ever be able to pull from your ugly black heart.”

“you’re very strongly opinionated,” johnny responded, ever so unbothered. maybe some decades ago, it would’ve irked him to the point of breaking, but he was much more in charge of his impulses now.

you lifted your shoulders, gazing at him with the most discerning of eyes. all he could think about was how nice it would’ve been to seize you by the throat and watch the light dull from them.

to your surprise, johnny’s next question was not as a deviant as you assumed it would be, asking, “what made you decide you wanted to become a detective?”

“because of the people i used to know that aren’t around to tell you why,” you answered distantly, before pressing, “how was sabrina different, johnny?”

johnny perched over the table again, an uncomfortable distance close to you, made worse by his whispers. “because unlike the others, she didn’t beg me to stop - she begged me to finish. for it to be over. and when i wouldn’t, she begged me to kill her.”

the mental picture you got was cruel. your heart hurt for these women that had no idea what hit them until it was too late.

“i put these women out of their misery,” johnny continued.

you spat in a heartbeat, “the misery that you forced them to endure.”

johnny winced. “no, these women were miserable long before they met me. they were just ignorant of it. impressionability is a weakness.”

“either you have one hell of a god complex or you are working overtime to justify your sick actions.”

johnny merely shrugged, vicious and ominous and everything in between. there was something so dark about his spirit. you could feel it just from sitting within a couple of feet of him.

johnny’s memories were triggered. he was reminiscing about the times he shared with his son’s mother, how perfect she was. there were no other women like her. she was his favorite victim, someone he took his sweet time with, while the others were disposed of in a few months time.

midnight loomed, riding on the tail of dusk. johnny was counting down the minutes until the clock struck twelve, a self-imposed rule to gauge his willpower. the second the hour came, he bolted from the crackling sound of the cabin’s fireplace to a bedroom, anticipation like a stimulant.

the wooden floorboards creaked the closer johnny crept to the door. save for himself and the woman chained to the bedpost, the cabin was void of life. it belonged to the parents of a close friend who ensured it was vacant whenever johnny needed a place to indulge his twisted fantasies.

which was basically all of the time.

he meandered inside with a crisp bottle of water in hand, droplets condensing at its sides. sabrina laid right where he left her, just as broken, dreading her next breath. tape adhered to the flesh over her mouth, muffling her whimpers. there was nobody around for miles, the cabin was totally isolated, but it was a safety measure.

the chains were used likewise. when johnny was not there, the restraints kept her prisoner. johnny, reckless as he could be back then, was many things and stupid was not one of them. the chains stretched long enough to reach the bathroom but no further and he had his loyal friend help him test it after each victim.

“can you go further?” johnny called out.

jaehyun’s lower limbs were shackled, ceasing his footsteps just shy of the hallway as he came to a total standstill. “not if i want my legs to follow me,” he’d retorted.

johnny had snickered. “good.”

had johnny been there, though, he would take the chains off. none of this was fair, even johnny didn’t believe that, but not giving them the chance to fight was too unfair. he needed not to chain them when he had the gift of his big, burly arms.

johnny waltzed over with a lighthearted and carefree gait, as if this was just another wednesday afternoon to him. and in some sick, despicable way, that wasn’t too far from the truth. he ripped the tape from sabrina’s lips, watching her face tense with pain.

“johnny,” sabrina rasped, voice croaking. he could tell from her flushed face and misty eyes that she’d been crying. “i’m thirsty.”

johnny cocked a brow, glancing to his hand. he had an irritating knack for playing dumb. it used to be endearing. now, with everything she knew to be true torn from her bare hands, sabrina didn’t know what to think. “what - you want this?”

sabrina nodded.

“yeah?” he popped off the top, throwing back a few gulps just before releasing a satisfied, “ah.”

sabrina’s lips trembled. “please.”

had she been anybody else, johnny probably would’ve dangled the water in her face just to snatch it away, but there was something about sabrina that made him gravitate towards her. in a rare moment of benevolence, johnny handed her the water, letting her drink.

she didn’t drink in short sips, but in giant gulps as if she’d known for some time that they’d be her last. when her thirst was satiated, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, handing the bottle back, and whispered, “thank you.”

johnny set the drink aside before returning to her, unshackling her limbs. sabrina’s breath quickened the moment the chains clacked harshly against the floor and nearly stilled when he brought his hand to her flushed face, tracing her chapped lips with a calloused thumb.

his thoughts rushed with unbridled exhilaration, ablaze with suspense, but he slowed for a moment to marvel at her loveliness. johnny’s hand touched her hair, touch tender in ways it would never be again, because he would never again know a woman as great as her.

he brought his lips to her ear, nibbling at the shell before asking, “do you know what i want you to do?”

sabrina bobbed her head, starting to halfheartedly peel off her clothes without needing to be told. with so many days held prisoner in this hell hole, it became routine. like she’d already resigned herself to her fate and knew johnny getting his way was inevitable. he always got what he wanted.

to be frank, it came out of nowhere. she never saw this twisted side of him coming. all she knew was that she became suspicious of his lack of family presence and it was too late when she saw him for the monster that he was, and then she woke here.

it had to have been months ago, although sabrina couldn’t have been sure how many. everyday started to bleed into the static hopelessness of another. sometimes johnny wouldn’t show for days, leaving her to live antsily, dreading his unavoidable return. other times, he would spend a day or two in the cabin, fucking her into kingdom come.

as if she couldn’t be any more faultless. johnny smirked. “smart girl,” he purred. he would never deny her wit, given that she’d caught onto him, but her lack of strength was her only vice.

johnny restlessly tossed his own shirt over his naked shoulder and came to step out of his boxers. there was mischief on his plush lips. he knew something sabrina only knew from the unkind churn of her gut.

the end was more than near. it loomed over her, relentless and remorseless, and all she could like it to was dark and leaden clouds in a somber sky. even then, there was almost nothing she wouldn’t give to see the world again, but she’d long kissed that hope goodbye.

“down,” johnny told her, tone dark and stern.

she pliantly did as told, bare back meeting the mattress. johnny crept over her, hard cock twitching at the sight of her so meek. typically, he liked when they put up a fight, but sabrina knew better.

johnny could tell she was fighting back tears, willing herself not to cry with a stabilized breath, but her endeavors were in vain the second he started to force his way inside her. they escaped her eyes and dampened her cheeks, unable to overlook the agony of the stretch.

“shh, baby,” johnny crooned in her ear, the weight of his body bearing down onto hers. “what’s the matter? you used to beg me to fuck you.”

sabrina shook her head, silently pleading for a mercy she knew deep down that johnny wasn’t capable of. “please make it quick.”

johnny’s tone was almost sweet. “but baby, you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, remember?”

johnny knew that his words weren’t reassuring and he didn’t intend for them to be. there was a reason why he loved how she tried to hold herself together. he got to push her limits, find her breaking point. in the end, she would get her wish, and in a way, johnny thought that that was love.

her walls were just as tight and vice-like as they’d been all those times he’d taken her before. if johnny got close enough to her, let his hands wander and tease as they never not had done, sabrina would still involuntarily gush around his cock. like her body knew she was forever a slave to his touch.

just looking at her face as she wept sent shock waves of pleasure rippling through his dick and chest. sabrina didn’t cry in noisy, gasping sobs. her tears dripped from her thick lashes quietly, mouth parting in the most silent of whimpers.

and she orgasmed the same way, johnny remembered. back when things were normal between them, when she begged for him to fuck her, as he called it, her release was marked by a volatile shudder, but a silent cry of ecstasy.

johnny pushed sabrina’s lips into an upward curling with his thumb and index finger. “smile for the camera, sabrina,” he whispered.

sabrina’s brows furrowed, painfully oblivious to the camera tracking her every emote. johnny couldn’t not document his deeds. there was something about being able to play them over, immersing himself back in that moment over and over, even when the life itself could not be so easily brought back.

but for johnny, they could be. when he rewatched these videos again and again, it was like he could feel their pulses thump in their neck, resuscitating.

johnny’s hands were everywhere, fingertips traipsing towards sabrina’s neck where marks lingered from all the times he’d strangled her, only to slacken his grip when she was just shy of passing out. the bruises were different colors, indicative of different healing stages. sabrina tensed, startled, and wondered when it would all be over.

“johnny.” sabrina was overcome with defeat. her voice cracked as she asked, “johnny, please just cum.”

johnny’s face tensed with pleasure. “fuck, babe, when you say it like that…”

he stood at the brink of climax, threatening to teeter over, and there was only one thing that could knock him over quicker than anything else. it wouldn’t be anything she said, anything she did, but only a weakness johnny had the power to wield against himself.

“you want me to finish?”

sabrina nodded.

johnny chuckled darkly. “then, in that case, it’s time for you to get your wish, baby.”

he watched her shoulders slump, releasing all hope of ever knowing anything different again and accepting that this was where things ended. thinking about the feeling he remembered none too distantly, one that almost seemed to keep his blood pumping through him, in a way, johnny’s fingers itched.

johnny lifted his hands, bringing them to sabrina’s face, but before he could touch her, she exclaimed, “wait, johnny!”

his brow cocked.

sabrina’s lips trembled. “can you tell me what today is? please?”

“wednesday,” johnny replied, holding his hands around her neck, but keeping his grip slack. for now.

“wednesday,” sabrina said, pulling her lips into the faintest of smiles as tears blurred her vision. “will you tell haechan that i hope he has an amazing thursday?”

“that can be arranged,” johnny said, grinning.

sabrina nodded, setting her mind at ease. she’d already made peace with this day some months ago. she never knew when it come, but she saw it as something bound to happen. “thank you,” she whispered.

those were her last words. because when johnny tightened his grip at her throat, almost like tightening a noose, he couldn’t bring himself to stop in spite of the agonized gleam in her stare. and then her stare was empty, and johnny had already emptied his load inside of her.

to describe the sensation he got from killing in a way that captured its essence would be impossible. it was more than feeling the life leave her. it was more than watching her eyes become soulless. it was a release, a way of relinquishing all of the vacantness he harbored, and knowing that his heart was still there.

it would always return, sometimes as soon as the next day, but for a minute, johnny was whole and no drug could replicate that kind of contentedness.

johnny did tell haechan what sabrina said. he wasn’t all too sure why, maybe it was because she was his mother and haechan was her son that they’d created together, and johnny would never have it any other way. for her to be the one to give him a child, he couldn’t imagine any other woman in her place.

it was almost unfortunate that she had to go so soon. even johnny thought that her demise was premature. had she not grown so suspicious of him, johnny could imagine making her his wife, maybe even spending the rest of his life with her.

their marriage wouldn’t have been without his secret dark life, but sabrina wouldn’t’ve been a victim. alas, loose ends needed to be tied. johnny couldn’t trust that she would’ve kept quiet, and even then, she was in a much more fitting place for an angel like herself.

there was much of this memory that would be abridged. never would johnny reveal anything about the cabin or the dear friend that helped him commit his indulgences, or even the existence of the tapes. if they found those videos, that was proof of murder with a grand total of 106 women.

the air around you was heavy and the words you’d just been fed weren’t easily take in. “what you’ve just told me is really sad.”

but johnny didn’t look sad. whether or not he ever truly cared for sabrina would perpetually be a mystery. “maybe,” he started. “but tell me that you wouldn’t hurt the person you loved most if it was what was best for them.”

“i did. but what i had to do is different from what you were.”

johnny’s interest was piqued. “how come?”

“it was my responsibility to decide whether or not to take my sister off of the ventilator. there was no hope for her,” you confessed, though brushed over it quickly. “what happened to your ex-wife?”

“not that interesting of a story,” johnny said. “she wasn’t sabrina, i got tired of her, here we are.”

“and yet she wasn’t a one-off like martina mortes.”

“had she been a one-off, my body count would be one number higher. that was a favor,” johnny told you, grinning as if you actually had something to be grateful for.

you didn’t waste a second to accuse, “because you need to keep your victims to extract all the relief that you can from them, right?”

“i’m afraid it’s not your turn to ask questions,” johnny replied tauntingly. “what was your sister like - did she have long hair? what color were her eyes? how long were her lashes?”

sick son of a bitch, bellowed the voice in your head, though you willed yourself to remain composed. it was plain on his face that johnny didn’t want an answer - he wanted a reaction. and as furious as that made you, you couldn’t let him provoke you. “that’s none of your business,” you said, but there was a loophole. “but she was beloved.”

that qualified as an answer. johnny glanced at you in a way that made you feel see-through, as if he knew that you were threatening to come apart at the seams and didn’t buy your nonchalance for a minute.

sated, he went on to feed you bullshit about his ex-wife’s death, though there were only four people who knew what truly happened to her and one of them was dead.

johnny remembered that day like it happened yesterday. it was a thursday evening when he’d come home from work. christine had picked haechan up from school hours ago and johnny wholly expected to come home to her in the kitchen.

it was dark outside. the moon was a mere sliver and the stars were duller than they typically were, almost like they had witnessed something that drained their spirits. johnny remembered struggling to identify his house key, trying each of them until the door clicked open.

“i’m home,” johnny’s voice thundered as he turned to lock the door.

there were quick footsteps from upstairs. haechan, johnny thought, more than familiarized with the sound. but there was none of christine’s usual voice.

“dad, i’m hungry,” came haechan’s voice from the stairs, coming down them one by one.

that in itself should’ve been suspicious, but instead, all johnny could think about was how sabrina would’ve already fed her son. “hasn’t christine made dinner by now?” johnny asked, irritated.

haechan shook his head, though johnny couldn’t see. he was hanging his coat on the rack, like he always did after he locked the door. “she can’t right now.”

“why not?”

“because i think she’s dead,” haechan replied, nonchalant as ever.

that was the very second that johnny turned around and noticed that haechan was stained with blood. it was all over his face and the spots would probably never come out of his clothes, not that they would be kept.

for half a minute, johnny was genuinely stunned.

haechan didn’t say what happened, and there was no need to. “the blood won’t come off,” was all he said, showing his father the pair of hands that he’d washed with vigor.

johnny heaved a breath. he should’ve seen this coming. haechan took after his father and he never liked christine. to say the least, johnny couldn’t blame him. “where is she?”

“where they all go,” haechan replied, as if it was the most normal and natural thing in the world to him.

johnny headed for the basement with quick footsteps, haechan following behind. if somebody were to come down there, they wouldn’t suspect a thing. not only was it decorated to look like one, but it was used as a man cave. behind a soundproof wall, though, was a dungeon for his prisoners.

in this case, there was a trail of blood leading to the wall, proof that haechan had somehow brought christine there after he hurt her. johnny entered the cell and saw her there behind the bars, coming to her side to check her pulse.

pressing his thumb to her wrist and neck, johnny sensed a pulse, though it was weakening. “she’s not dead,” he said, wresting his phone out of his pocket.

haechan didn’t look so relieved, but he didn’t voice his dissatisfaction. “are you mad?”

johnny glanced down at christine. haechan had used a kitchen knife, attacking her in the heat of the moment. she was butchered and blood-splattered, on the verge of slaughter, and yet johnny couldn’t find it in him to offer any compassion. “that you hurt her? no. that you made a mess? a little.”

now that was a relief. to haechan, at least back then, his dad was the coolest guy that he knew.

there was quite the scene in front of him and johnny didn’t have a thing for blood. he shook his head in reproach, chastising, “i’m going to teach you the right way to get rid of a woman when you’re sick of her.”

that piqued haechan’s curiosity.

johnny was quick to dial jaehyun’s number. he had medical experience and that was what he needed right now. when the call connected, he said, “i’m in calling in a favor.”

jaehyun patched her up again. at least for a few months, johnny still needed her breathing. they scrubbed the floors free of blood, burned haechan’s bloodied clothes, and it was as if nothing ever happened.

what johnny had told you was only a fraction of the truth, but still enough to make you want to grimace. it bemused you how he got away with murdering his ex-wife and nobody thought to suspect her husband with a track record of disappearing partners.

“you want to know what’s really amazing?” you started, though it was more like disgusting. “how three of the women you’ve killed were your significant others, and somehow, you’ve only now been incriminated.”

johnny looked proud of himself. had it not been for haechan, he probably would’ve never been caught. “sabrina never told anyone that we dated, or that she had a baby by me. her parents wanted her to focus on her education. if they knew she’d gotten pregnant, she would’ve been the black sheep.”

“and you took advantage of that,” you hissed.

“so what if i did?” johnny asked, careless. “not to mention that dozens of teenage girls in chicago were going missing at the time. they added martina to that number and called it a day. is that sad? maybe. but that’s how it works.”

“and as for your co-worker?” you asked sharply. the boldness of his crimes astounded you. “her husband grieves her. were you having an affair?”

the thought of her made johnny chuckle. oh, were we, he reminisced. it was a misfortune that he didn’t get the chance to have his way with her the way that he wanted. and for that reason, he couldn’t regale you in a truthful account of her death.

what happened that day, the day his co-worker died, challenged his fate and was the reason that he only now knew the imprisonment he thrusted upon others.

johnny knew when he spotted her that he would revel in her vulnerability. married, but she hardly wore her ring. her kind was the most naive - the kind that believed ecstasy was without costly sin. one way or another, she had to reap what she sowed.

he worked his way inside her pants, but it was hardly any work; she was on a desperate pursuit for pleasure and when johnny promised it to her, offering content on a silver platter, she thought less with her brain and more with the throbbing between her legs.

for months, johnny slept with her, which was far from typical. if she were anybody else, johnny would have pursued her for a couple of weeks time, then banished her to the underground prison. though considering he already had a victim down there at the time, he had some time to spare.

it was no secret that she had grown fond of johnny in ways she hadn’t been of her husband in a very long time, and though johnny found her to be special, in a way, he could not reciprocate her feelings. when johnny saw her, all he felt was the overwhelming urge to use her without a lick of remorse, and squeeze those panting breaths out of her.

it was a shame that he never got the opportunity. johnny already tested the bounds of his self-restraint when it came to her, each of their encounters consensual with her oblivious to his deepest, darkest desires. sometimes, his fingers would wander to her neck, but even that was wanted.

what was not wanted was the tyranny over her body that preceded her death. it bemused johnny to learn that his son, along with two of his friends that he thought of like brothers and johnny thought of like sons, ravaged her to the brink of being unrecognizable.

had johnny held control over the situation, he wouldn’t have cared what happened to her and would have even permitted them to go to town. but what happened was somehow darker. when he got a call from the professor late that day, hearing her broken sobs over the phone, he told her to meet him at his house.

that was his first mistake.

it wasn’t that she didn’t come. she made it there, hopeful to confide in johnny about the nightmare that tore her apart, but it was haechan that opened the front door. and when she entered, there was no hope out of her coming out breathing.

haechan had been a downward spiral ever since a month ago when he stumbled upon the tape of his mother. ever since he was a boy, haechan watched every tape he could find of his father’s dark life, even sharing them with his friends as if they were movies and not snuff.

but this was not like those. this was his mother. and watching her suffer, listening to her final request before her untimely death, broke haechan in ways which he would never recover.

haechan had known since he was little that his mother was dead and his father was to blame, but his understanding of what happened to her was skewed. if he’d known eighteen years ago what he knew today, when johnny had his own son aid him in his mother’s demise, none of it would have ever happened.

to say nothing of the fact that what johnny had haechan do was only a mere fraction of his mother’s suffering. haechan would fetch things from the other side of the cabin he vaguely remembered visiting every now and then for three months. when he was not there, which was often, he would lie to his neighbors about her whereabouts.

even though when she died he was only a kid being taken advantage of, haechan hated himself for letting it happen right under his nose. he wished he would’ve told his neighbors the truth. maybe if he had, his mother would still be alive and kicking, and he would know the only woman he ever cared for.

that was why he went after his professor that he knew his father had also been eyeing closely and having an affair with. her fate was obvious. johnny would entertain her for a while, somehow charm and woo his way into her pants like he did every other woman, kidnap her and keep her downstairs for three months, then kill her and identify the next victim.

but johnny’s liking of her was also hopelessly discernable. she was living too long. and that was a telltale sign that johnny took a special interest in his son’s professor, something that haechan feared would rival the affection (if it existed) for his mother.

haechan was not keen on having his mother replaced. the last time it happened, he snapped and maimed his stepmother. and he was not afraid of doing so again.

when haechan exacted revenge, it felt like nothing he had ever done before. vengeance tasted like heaven. his professor tasted elysian. and he had never felt so good about himself, but then the high wore off, comparable to the fading release johnny got after strangling his victims, and familiar pain seared through him once further.

vindictiveness was a lethal venom, festering quickly upon injection. after haechan got what he wanted, there was a greed to replicate that feeling, in spite of the fact that nothing would compare to that first blow. in his own way, unlike his father’s but similar nonetheless, he was pivoting towards release.

haechan was on the brink of something like psychosis when he heard those knocks on his front door. and when he peered outside, spotting the professor, his recklessness got the better of him.

she was dead before she even stepped inside the house. haechan yanked her inside, brought her downstairs, and forced himself onto her for a second time that day. when she wept for johnny, wishing he would come home, haechan almost pitied her naïveté.

if haechan hadn’t killed her, wrapping his hands around her throat the way that he knew his father had been yearning to, johnny would have.

the look on his professor’s face was pitiful. “sorry,” haechan said, though he clasped his hands around her throat harder. “but i have to make a statement.”

it was not particularly a difficult thing to do, at least not to stomach, but killing her was merely just a means to an end. he didn’t get off to it like his father would’ve. haechan’s interest lay in inflicting psychological damage, but he did it because he knew how much it pleasured johnny to squeeze the life out of his victims.

and if haechan couldn’t have what he wanted, then as long as he lived, neither would his dad for tearing it away.

johnny came home moments too late. haechan left his professor in the cellar for his father to find, eyes wide and face pale.

johnny glanced around. he saw her car parked outside, but no sign of her. when haechan came from his bedroom on the upper floor, a creeping feeling of deja vu flooded johnny’s chest, but he asked, “where is she?”

haechan’s face was expressionless. “she’s dead,” he replied, confident. “i mean it this time.”

johnny shook his head. “you killed her?”

“wasn’t it you that said you were going to teach me the proper way to dispose of a woman when i’m sick of her?” haechan asked, approaching his father as he crept down the stairs.

though johnny wasn’t pleased, he willed himself to calm down. “did you strangle her?”

“yes.”

johnny figured, from the lack of blood staining his house this time around. “will you tell me about it?”

that caught haechan off-guard. he expected his father to be angry, to let loose. he had to have been dreaming of choking her since the day he laid eyes on her. “you sick fuck,” haechan sneered.

johnny snickered, unbothered. that’s rich. “who do you think you got it from?”

obviously, from the face haechan was making, he didn’t like that. his nonchalant attitude dissipated. “i’m not like you!”

“keep telling yourself that. maybe one day you’ll delude yourself into believing it,” johnny replied, hanging his coat on the rack in spite of knowing he would be leaving again soon.

“i’m not like you - i mean that.”

johnny, miffed, rolled his eyes and said, “come on, son. you think i don’t know you and your friends have been watching my tapes for the past decade and then some like they’re cartoons?”

“but not mom’s,” haechan spat, loathing fizzing in his stare.

johnny froze, then spun around. “is that what this is all about?”

haechan nodded, pleased his father was finally getting the picture. “i found it in your study. you hid it more carefully than the others, because she was special or you didn’t want me to find it, i don’t know.”

johnny heaved a breath. “you were never supposed to see that.”

“but i did,” haechan replied. “and i’ve suffered every day for the past month because of that.”

johnny shot without hesitation, “a suffering you brought upon yourself. nobody asked you to go snooping around in my things.”

haechan’s lips were twisted into the meanest snarl johnny had ever seen. emotion wrecked through him in its totality. “is that what’s important to you? i shouldn’t be surprised. you couldn’t even spare your own son’s mother from your heartlessness.”

johnny massaged his temple, summoning all of his willpower. “please,” he groaned, sensing an incoming headache. “women are weak, cheating whores. just look at your professor. maybe your mother wasn’t, but she was a liability.”

if that was supposed to console haechan, it had the complete opposite effect. “are you saying she deserved it?”

“i’m saying that you’ve always been too soft,” johnny said, not bothering to sugarcoat his chastising. “just like your mother. even when you were a child. that’s why i had you help me, i hoped you would harden up a little.”

haechan scoffed. “unbelievable.”

“your mother went quietly. she didn’t even fight it, haechan. so, why are you?”

“because of that,” haechan told him, vitriol in his voice. “she didn’t ask you to stop one time. she just asked you to get it over with.”

johnny tipped his head back. “ah, yes. she really was perfect, wasn’t she?”

that was all it took to kindle an unforgiving rage within haechan and in a moment of fury, flickering through him in a flash, haechan lifted his hand to smack his father.

johnny caught his wrist, as if this weren’t the first time this had happened and it was wholeheartedly expected. his voice lowered to a mere hiss, “i’ve never laid a hand on you. ever in your life. don’t make today be the day i start.”

haechan glared, but wrested his way out of his father’s grip and backed away.

johnny smoothed down his shirt and headed for the kitchen, knowing haechan would follow. this conversation was far from over. “now, if you excuse me, i have to clean up your mess,” he said, pulling a burner phone out of a drawer. “if you don’t mind.”

“i can clean up my own mess,” haechan replied, scowling.

setting the phone on the counter, johnny reached for a glass. “no, you can’t. not without digging your own grave. unless you want to go to prison, pack your shit, ask one of your buddies if you can stay with them for a few days, and take the tapes with you. hide them.”

haechan made a face. “what are you talking about?”

johnny sighed. “we can’t get away with this one, son. her car’s parked outside. there’s too many loose ends.”

“we can get rid of the car. you don’t have to go to jail!” haechan shouted.

“it’s either you or me. frankly, i’m doing you a favor. you wouldn’t last two seconds behind bars,” johnny hissed. he grabbed another glass, sliding it across the counter, then said, “now, wine? you know, to celebrate your old man going away? i believe that’s what you want.”

haechan shook his head. never in his life had he been so conflicted. his father that he’d been so bent on despising until the day he died was voluntarily confessing to a crime he didn’t commit, just so that his son wouldn’t have to suffer in prison.

“why are you doing this?” haechan asked, bristling with emotion.

johnny sighed. “because i love you, son. even if you don’t think so. and because your mother would be turning in her grave if she knew you were in prison.”

haechan blew out a breath. then, after a moment of reluctance, he grabbed the glass on the counter and reached for the wine bottle.

johnny snickered. “atta boy.”

“i wonder how your son reacted when he learned you were going to prison for murder,” you said, pondering. “you live in the same house. i wonder how he didn’t know.”

johnny lied, “he was at a friend’s house when i killed her. doesn’t like that it was his favorite professor.”

you nodded along, buying his lies. “that is a lot to take in. i mean, imagine your dad was having an affair with your favorite science professor. then, he kills her, like how he killed your mom.”

johnny shrugged his shoulders. “have you never heard the phrase ‘the heart wants what it wants?’”

“i have,” you replied. “and i guess your heart wanted to stop the function of others.”

johnny laughed at his own expense. “oh, please. you give me too much credit. you shouldn’t make me out to be more romantic than i am.”

you shook your head in disappointment. “you make these women want you, and then you undo everything. that has to be part of the amusement to you.”

“it gets a chuckle or two out of me.”

your lips were tempted to curl into a frown for the umpteenth time that day alone. “why?”

johnny leaned up in his chair, exclaiming, “because it’s fun!”

you were going to say something, but he didn’t give you the chance.

johnny continued, “everyday, as adults, we do the same job for hours and come home. people want excitement in their lives. women get exhausted of coming home to their husbands or nobody at all.”

your stare was blank. “and your point is?”

“i didn’t just make those women want me, baby. i made them need me,” johnny told you smugly. “i brought a spark to their lives, and i took it away just as fast. and i do it… because i can.”

“because you could,” you corrected, confident he would never be free of this place for as long as he lived. “you’re going to be in here a very, very long time.”

johnny grinned. “i wouldn’t be so sure.”

you cocked your brow. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“wouldn’t you like to know?” johnny teased. you hated the smugness in his tone. like he knew something that you didn’t.

the door opened, and the guard from earlier returned. “i hate to interrupt, but it’s time for the count,” he said, coming behind johnny to undo his cuffs.

it all happened in a blink. johnny’s weight was pressed flush against yours, roughly thrusting you into the table. your body screamed, agony spreading through your side, but your gun was in a lockbox outside the room.

johnny knew from your conversations alone that you weren’t the type to go quietly. your first instinct was to fight back. naturally, you struggled against his hold, refusing to bend to his will even as panic shot through your chest. your whole body was on guard, aiming for survival.

but to your misfortune, your might was no match for johnny’s. you glanced to the guard for assistance, but when he only stood there as if he was waiting for it to end, the most unsettling feeling of realization washed over you.

“don’t fight him,” the guard said, arms crossed. “you won’t win.”

johnny snickered when he noticed your eyes widen in shock. you hadn’t seen that coming. though you tried to resist, it was over once his slender fingers came to your throat, and you genuinely feared for your life.

you didn’t realize how good you had it just being able to breathe until you couldn’t anymore. your breaths wouldn’t come. it felt as if your bones were being crushed. your whole body was on fight mode, but it was like johnny had the reins, shutting down your senses one by one.

“you put up a good fight, detective,” johnny whispered darkly in your ear, admiring your struggle.

your lips parted, but you couldn’t speak no matter how hard you tried. your self-preservation instincts were no match against him. all you could do was meet johnny’s stare. the pressure on your neck was too much to handle, and in seconds, you were out.

“lights out,” johnny said. he released your throat, having no intention of killing you and leading you for dead, but knowing that you would likely regain consciousness in a matter of seconds, he grabbed you by the hair, smashing your head flat against the table to subdue you.

jaehyun winced, but he did nothing to step in. “poor girl,” he mumbled under his breath, pitying you. “had enough?”

“for now,” johnny replied. “let’s go.”

jaehyun gave johnny a uniform to wear so that he would blend in amongst the uniforms like jaehyun had and when he was ready, the two of them fled before they could be deterred.

when they had successfully gotten away, jaehyun asked with his hand on a steering wheel, “you know that i don’t agree with this, right?”

johnny snickered. it had absolutely been said. “you haven’t agreed with my lifestyle for the past twenty-five years, yet you still help me. why?”

jaehyun frowned. sometimes, he asked himself the same question, but deep down inside, he knew the answer. “because we may not share blood, but we’re brothers,” jaehyun replied. “and for my brother, i’ll do anything you need.”

johnny quipped, “like smuggle me across the border?”

“like smuggle you across the border,” jaehyun said, chuckling. “when we get there, there’s gonna be this dude named mark. he’s gonna help you out. i’ll be in touch.”

johnny nodded. “i can’t thank you enough, man.”

“just lay low and stay out of trouble,” jaehyun said, shaking his head.

johnny grinned with mischief. he was already thinking about all of the beautiful women he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. “no promises,” he answered, sighing contentedly.

#johnny suh smut #nct 127 smut #johnny smut #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh scenarios #nct smut #tw: noncon #tw: murder #revehae fics

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maplewozapi · 10 months

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Hey! I have a question if that's ok with you. I am White British but I am interested in Native American history (I think it's super cool and I love learning about cultures different to my own). However someone I was talking to about it (a bookseller who I bought a book abt native history off) said that i'm committing cultural appropriation by being interested in non-white history. Is it cultural appropriation for a white person to be interested in the history of non-white people, because if it is I will totally stop being interested in it. It's just sad because I find it really interesting, but i totally don't want to perpetrate racism :(

Studying others history is not at all cultural appropriation and not learning can actually perpetuate ignorance and stereotypes believed about a group. And if someone is stopping you from learning history I’d say that’s an underlining way of them trying to get you not educated. I mean there is overstepping when trying to learn our ceremonies and religious practices without permission and I even say it’s odd to do so in another land that doesn’t know those practices.

When reading literature about native history I’d try to stay with books with native authors or help from tribal members and the tribe it’s self whether than one individual member. Many anthropologist would only interview one person and take their beliefs has everyone’s and cause false information. I’d even limit the publishing dates to the later 2000s, so you can find more nuanced literature. (Some of these book below are fiction but show the Native American condition)

I’d think you find a great overview with "indigenous history of the United States", it’s a great introduction to the head space of ethnology of native people has been and recorrecting it.

I would also say to not limit yourself to your idea of "Native Americans" you’ll find most literature follows plains tribes, and instead I’d recommend you research all indigenous peoples spanning north to South America.

Much of the literature you may run into are written from out of context accounts from expeditionists, or missionaries/priests and it’s important not to take everything at face value. I’d just suggest reading accounts from native people before try to describe biased and mistranslated literature.

💖I’d also keep in mind native history is still continuing to today 💖

#books #native books #native american #indigenous #ask

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archangeldyke-all · 4 months

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Weird AU idea I had randomly:

What if reader and Sevika were like..co-stars on an adult romcom or romantic drama as the two leads? They spend a lot of time together on set and some of their scenes get a little heated (they ofc have a dedicated intimacy coordinator to help). And things just...lead to another off set.

What if Reader is the intimacy coordinator responsible for helping Sevika and her co-stars feel comfortable and they just....hit it off, off-set or after shooting ends. Everyone ofc remains professional on the job, but ya know...not unheard of for folks to start dating after working together 😏

LOVEEE

men and minors dni

seeing people in various states of nakedness is literally your job.

it's vital that you remain professional and responsible while you're working-- both on and off set. you need to be an advocate for healthy boundaries and responsible film-making, there's no space for you to be flustered or uncomfortable or god forbid, turned on.

and usually you're incredibly good at it.

whether it's men or women, whether you find them attractive or not-- you keep your cool and keep it responsible no matter what.

but this is sevika.

sevika, whose interviews you watch before bed-- just to hear the lovely timbre of her voice.

sevika, who has been your celebrity crush for years.

sevika, who's filming her first ever intimate scene, and has no idea how it works.

you find out who you're going to be working with a week before, and you spend the entire week in denial, confident that if you ignore it, you won't freak out about it.

but then you meet her.

she's even more attractive in real life, sleepy from the early morning call-time, hair a little messy and eyes a little droopy, make up free and cuddled up in a white robe. it's like seeing an angel.

the second you introduce yourself to her, closing the door to her trailer behind her, sevika drops her white robe and puts her hands on her hips. when you turn back around, you get an eyeful of a completely naked, completely unbothered sevika. you nearly pass out.

"uh." you say eloquently. sevika blinks at you.

"you're the intimacy coordinator right?" she asks. you gulp, ripping your eyes away from her body to stare at the ceiling.

"y-yes. you don't have to... i mean, you can put your robe back on." you say. "it's just-- we're just talking today." you choke out.

sevika snorts, laughing at herself as she pulls her robe back on. you try to catch your breath as she casually pulls the belt tight and flops onto the couch behind her.

so, it's a rocky start.

and no, you don't jerk off to the image of a naked sevika that's been burned into your frontal lobe when you get home.

that would be completely unprofessional.

(okay, yes you do. three times.)

sevika's charming and funny and down to earth in a way a lot of the celebrities you work with never are. she's got the prettiest smile you've ever seen, and she asks you about your life and listens to your answers, and your crush only gets worse and worse as the days tick by.

you and sevika spend several lunches going over her own personal boundaries.

she's filming a scene with a man, which makes her cringe and stick her tongue out as she says it. (you have to keep yourself from squealing at the confirmation of her very publicly debated lesbianism.) she's not totally uncomfortable with it-- it's her job-- but she 'would like to keep it pg-13' where she can.

she's comfortable with nudity-- she obviously knows how good she looks-- but you explain to her that in scenes beyond the full frontal, she'll be wearing some coverings just to keep everyone comfortable.

she's fascinated by your job, constantly lobbing you with questions.

'what other movies have you worked on?'

'do pornos have intimacy coordinators?'

and then, inevitably, 'who's the hottest celebrity you've ever seen naked?'

this makes you choke on your spit. sevika raises an eyebrow at you as you hack up a lung, and when you finally catch your breath she grins. "me?" she guesses. you just huff and flip her off.

it's amazing watching her act-- she's insanely talented. she's funny too, just naturally, off the top of her head, always spitting out improvised lines that make you and the entire crew laugh. she's also a huge fucking flirt.

she's respectful of all the boundaries you outlined for her on set. always covered unless she's filming, talking frequently with her co-star about the script, triple checking before they film that they both agree with the direction they're taking their sex scenes. but that doesn't stop her from trying to get a rise out of you.

she claims she has no idea how to work the nipple pasties-- insists you do it for her. you've done it for plenty of clients-- sometimes the adhesives or angles can be tricky-- but you know she's just doing it to get you to touch her tits. it's in the way she smirks each time she asks, the way her eyes sparkle as she watches you nervously, shakily press the tape to her flesh, trying to avoid touching her skin at all costs.

she's insisted on taking all her lunches with you once she finds out that you tend to eat alone in your car. she'll tag along with you in the passenger side of your car, teasing you and fiddling with your radio and ducking in her seat when you pass by herds of paparazzi, as you drive the two of you to taco bell. she always pays-- 'i'm the superstar, you're driving a camry-- no offense.'

and she's always touching you.

never inappropriately, never without your permission-- but she's always got her hands on you in some way.

playing with a strand of your hair as you check in with her between takes. wrapping an arm around your shoulders when the two of you walk to your car. fiddling with your fingers in the back of a bus as the two of you and a few crew members ride to a local bar for drinks. each time, you stutter and stumble over your words, biting your cheek and awkwardly avoiding her eyes as she grins at you. she knows what she's doing. she loves it.

you assume you're just a pillow fluffer of sorts for her. just someone for her to flirt with between scenes-- a place for her to put all the residual emotions that filming a rom-com requires. it's happened before-- occasionally clients will need a bit of intimacy outside of the shoot to keep their romantic mood going all day-- and you're happy to receive a few flirty compliments and lingering glances in order to keep your clients happy.

when filming wraps, you assume that you'll never see sevika again.

you say goodbye to her with a hug in her trailer, wishing her luck in her career and hoping that maybe you'll have the pleasure to work with her again in the future. when you pull away, sevika's looking at you with a furrow in her brow.

"what?" you ask.

sevika bites her lip, and for the first time since you've met, she looks... shy.

"nevermind. 's stupid." she says.

you scoff. "sevika, i custom dye thongs to match various skin tones for a living-- i'm used to stupid." you say. she huffs.

"do you... i mean-- how familiar are you with the dating policies on set?"

"uh... not super? i can put you in contact with debbie from HR if you--"

"no nevermind. it's dumb."

you laugh. "having a crush on someone isn't dumb. you should go for it! filming's wrapped, so i doubt there's any hoops you'd need to jump through."

sevika bites her cheek. "i don't know if she'd be into me." she whispers, still not looking at you. you bark a laugh, and sevika's eyes dart up to look at you.

"don't be ridiculous." you say. "you're a fucking a-list actress, i know you know how hot you are, she'd be a fucking idiot not to be!"

"but it's... it's kinda been her job for the past few months to flirt with me."

"what?" you ask.

sevika's co-star is a man-- and he should be the only person flirting with sevika on set.

"i dunno. she's gotta touch me and talk to me and make me comfortable all day-- i don't know if she'd be doing that if it wasn't her job."

"sevika, who's been touching you? nobody's supposed to touch you." you say, anger bubbling up in your stomach.

it's your job to protect her from this happening, and you're starting to panic as you think about all the ways you might've failed her.

sevika huffs a laugh, and you blink at her. "it's not funny, sev, it's serious-- your boundaries--"

"it's you." she says. you blink. "i... it's okay if you... i mean it's basically your job to, like, take care of me, so it's cool if you don't--"

"me?!" you ask, cutting her off. sevika shrugs. "a-are you fucking with me?" you ask. sevika blinks.

"no?" she guesses.

"so this isn't some kind of prank ran put you up to because i told them you've been my celebrity crush since your first movie?" you ask. sevika's worried expression melts, a smug, self-satisfied smile taking its place.

"no." she says again. you sigh.

"o-oh." you say.

"so..." sevika starts. "i know you're all about boundaries and consent and stuff-- do i have to ask before i kiss you or...?" she trails off. you giggle, a little giddy as the reality of the situation sinks in.

"yeah. you have to wear that thong and the pasties to bed with me too." you tease. sevika laughs.

"damn, that's horrible. i'm not gonna be able to do any of the things i wanted to--"

you cut her off with a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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forfucksakesniall · 11 months

Text

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Driver!Reader

Trigger Warning/Content Advisory: Jealous and Kinda Mean Lewis

It's common to have celebrities visit the garage in F1, and you find it an advantage to meet some of them. Brad Pitt, The Kardashians, Megan Thee Stallion, Paris Hilton and many more. The one encounter that lives up until now was Sebastian Stan. You are his biggest fan. When you saw "Bucky" in the garage, he was the most gorgeous being you've ever seen—wait, Lewis.

You looked around the garage to find him but to no avail. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to pounce on Sebastian Stan. He was being toured in Lewis's garage, and somehow, I got the news of our visitor next door.

As you stepped into the garage, you immediately looked for "Bucky," and there he was, sculpted by the gods themselves. You were in total awe of him—his beautiful blue eyes, perfect jaw, his fit was eye candy, and his hair in a bun. This man is just—UGH.

Your phone buzzed, and you checked to see that it was from Lewis.

TODAY

Lewis

Do you mind closing your mouth?

Embarrassed, you closed it. But how did he know you were here? You looked around the garage one last time when you caught a glimpse of the monitor. The cameraman had captured your whole reaction while you were here.

You glared at the cameraman, then ignored him afterward. You couldn't let this opportunity slip away from meeting Sebastian Stan. When the tour was almost over, it was your time to shine.

He was about to head out when a journalist spotted you both and asked if she could do an interview with you and Sebastian. You enthusiastically agreed to the idea, and as you approached him, he also agreed to the interview. Finally, luck was on my side.

Since it was somewhat dark in the garage, you were asked to step outside the grid for better lighting. As the journalist set things up, you turned to Sebastian, and to your surprise, he was already looking at you.

"I'm a big fan, by the way," you said.

"Aw, that's so sweet. Thank you so much," he replied, and then he hugged you. The hug felt like it was taking longer than expected, and just as you were lost in the moment, you heard someone clear their throat.

It was the journalist, reminding you both to continue with the interview.

Reluctantly, you let go of the hug and settled for a side hug with Sebastian, which he didn't seem to mind, and he placed his hand on the side of your arm.

Throughout the interview, you found yourself mostly agreeing with whatever the journalist was saying. Afterward, you took photos together, which seemed to take forever to finish. You waved goodbye to Sebastian and blew him a kiss as he left.

TODAY

Lewis

Do you mind closing your mouth? Seriously, doing an interview with him? Did PR agree to this? What's with all the hugging? Did it really have to be that many photos?

Oh no, you're getting grumpy Lewis today.

You were on your way to your side garage and slowing to the back of the Driver’s room. When you get in you see Lewis standing there looking at you.

“Hey…” you said awkwardly

“....” he stays quiet

“You had Sebastian Stan in your garage… I met him... But you know that already…” you mentioned.

“Yea, you were so busy… Seems like you already forgot about me..” Lewis replied, heading towards the door to leave.

Quickly, you blocked his way and locked the door behind you.

“Why are you acting like this?” you said in frustration

“Wouldn't you wanna know” he sassed.

“Lewis… Are you... Are you jealous?” you were trying not to smile but it was obvious.

“Why would I- I don’t..” he huffs in annoyance, struggling to find his words.

You grinned mischievously, Oh Lewis you thought to yourself

You stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your faces were inches apart from each other. You were looking at his eyes and slowly down to his lips.

He was avoiding your gaze, and you sighed at his persistence to ignore your questioning.

“So.. No Kiss?... Okay then..” you tell him and place your face on the crook of his neck and inhale deeply. Gosh, you missed him. But you wouldn’t admit that because that would backfire for sure.

At first, he was stubborn, not hugging you back, but then you could feel his arms snake around your waist. You heard him mumble something.

"What?" you asked him.

“I said you smell like a man” he retorts back.

Oh, it must be Sebastian's perfume. You have to get back at him for this.

“How was Shakira any different…” you sassed back to him.

“I told you that was for PR… and you were with me the whole time…”

“Whatever…”

You get to see jealous Lewis, to be fair it wasn't too bad. He still went to see me in the driver’s room like he always does. He’ll give me a kiss, a hug, and whisper sweet nothings to me. But today took a violent turn.

“I’m sorry…” you finally admit that maybe you overdid it. You got excited and fawned all over Sebastian.

“No, I’m sorry for being immature about it… I just thought maybe... You like him better than me... Or whatever. But I wasn't jealous, okay?” he says to you like a secret.

“Sure… So, you aren't mad anymore?”

“For a kiss, I won’t” he teases you.

I pull away to see his face and finally his beautiful brown eyes. He leans his forehead to mine.

What a tease.

You lean closer and your lips touch. A soft and affectionate kiss, filled with sweetness and warmth.

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

Note

hii! so i read ur dating tom k hcs and i loved them, could i pls request dating bill hcs as well? hope u have a good day/night <3

(hello! Thank you for requesting and sorry if this is a bit messy but enjoy! Thank you for loving my Tom headcannons, and have a good night/day!)

Dating Bill Headcannons

He is probably the best choice to even be with

He's so amazing man

I feel like he would rather have a private and intimate relationship

He wouldn't want paparazzi and fans all in your guys' business

But paparazzi has gotten a couple pictures of you guys

And Lord

He looks so in love, when he looks at you it looks like he's full on smitten

When he is in a relationship, he will do his best to make it last and be happy

He doesn't want to lose any chance he has to be with you for as long as he can

When people flirt with you, either in front of him or just in general

He feels a little bad

Just a bit

There is a lot of bickering in the relationship

Playful banter

You guys play wrestle a lot probably just because to piss the other off

There are mistakes on both sides of the relationship as it probably is his and your first one

So get over those hurdles and it's all good

Switches from German to English on you a lor

So if you know German, amazing!

If you dont, pray someone can translate

Would love if you learned German for him if you didn't know before

Because since he is pretty popular he is busy, and he feels bad because he doesn't have much extra time even if he does he spends it with you

After people flirt with you he'll try his best to spend as much time as possible with you

Is the embodiment of the kid who you're parents dream about you bringing home only for him to turn around and be the complete opposite

He's Bill, he can be flirty, shy and anything at any given time

He's not all that blatant about affection in public

Mostly hand holding and small kisses or kisses on the cheek or holding your waist

But in private is a whole other story

Mans is not letting go

It feels like he is glued to you

He loves doing your makeup to match his

Just you like straddling his lap as you just let him do your makeup

It's perfect

You guys are a pretty popular couple

Lots of rumors about you guys but you both ignore them

He gets asked about you a lot interviews

He is happy to answer and and all given questions as long as they don't cross a line

He is proud to say out loud he is dating you

He is down bad man

Matching outfits all the way

You guys probably have whole fan pages about you guys

You inspire some songs, some are just for you two and one or two he has released to the public

"Yeah, that one is about (Name)."

He says it with the biggest smile on his face

Tom teases his brother so much

Bill denies being totally smitten until you come into the room

He likes sitting next to you no matter where

Will have a hand on your thigh just because

His hands are sometimes cold so don't be alarmed when it's freezing

You guys go shopping and he's full on making outfits for you to show him

Full on show and spending hours in a shop

He does not care

You guys get lost a lot when you guys wander off

Gustav has found you both in multiple parks in the middle of the night

He will pull you up on stage when he wants

If your style is similar to his, he is full on in love

Even if it isn't, he likes how your style would contrast with his

He lets you do his makeup

Like Tom, is not threatened by his bandmates or brother if you get close to them

Would actually prefer if you were friends with them so you can come along and spend more time with him

If you're in the band, he is having the time of his life on stage

And if you're not, he's still gonna spot you out in the crowd

Always wants to make you proud of dating him when he is performing

He likes the fans, but would prefer just hugs and not kisses from them since he is dating you

If you're okay with it, he's fine with it, but if you're not he would ask them to please not kiss him

He doesn't want to risk your relationship

He is an asshole a lot of times

Idk if it's on purpose or he's joking around

He can be an asshole

Of you play an instrument or sing, he thinks it is legit a match made in heaven

Likes laying in bed with his head on your chest instead of the other way around

He would be devastated if you guys ever broke up or went on a break

Is trying his hardest to make up with you even in arguments

He is not letting the relationship go easily

#tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #gustav tokio hotel

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zvaigzdelasas · 2 months

Text

President Joe Biden is showing no signs of trying to restrict or withhold the billions the U.S. spends each year in military aid to Israel, despite growing concerns that some of those weapons are being used in bombings that kill civilians.

The U.S. has sent more military and foreign aid to Israel than any other country, including a 10-year, $38 billion program that supplies some $3.3 billion in foreign military sales to Israel each year.

U.S. officials insist that most weapons transfers since the Israeli-Hamas war began were approved long before it started and would be legally challenging to stop.

But some experts say the U.S. has the power to reverse course if it wanted to.

"There are all kinds of ways to speed up or slow down arms transfers," said retired Col. Steve Ganyard, an ABC News contributor and former deputy assistant secretary at the State Department's Bureau for Military-Political Affairs, which oversees foreign weapons sales.

"You can slow the system down to a crawl," Ganyard added. "If the administration or the Congress wanted to shut things down, they could. But it's a matter of political will.".[...]

"The security relationship we have with Israel is not just about Gaza" and the Hamas attack in Israel on Oct. 7," said Secretary of State Antony Blinken. "It's also about the threats posed Israel, by Hezbollah, by Iran, by various other actors in the region -- each one of which has vowed one way or another, to try to destroy Israel."

The question of restricting military sales grew increasingly urgent this week after an Israeli airstrike killed seven aid workers delivering food to Gaza amid a worsening humanitarian crisis. Israel said it was investigating the incident and calling it a grave mistake.

The Pentagon said it couldn't say if the weapons in the strike were American-made, but noted that Israel was expected to honor its promise to use weapons in accordance with international law.

White House National Security Council spokesman John Kirby said the administration was "outraged" by the strike and insists that Israel be more careful in its operations against Hamas. At the same time, Kirby made clear the U.S. wouldn't use military aid as leverage and "hang some sort of condition" around Israel's "neck."[...]

"We have a situation where the Netanyahu government continues to rebuff the president of the United States time and time again, ignores reasonable requests," said Sen. Chris Van Hollen, a Maryland Democrat, in an interview Sunday with ABC's "This Week."

"And what do we do? We say we're going to send more bombs," Van Hollen said.

Van Hollen and other Democrats have been investigating legislation on the matter, although it's not clear such a measure would gather enough support to pass or overcome a presidential veto.

Josh Paul, a former senior State Department official and outspoken critic of Biden's policy toward Israel, told ABC News that there was consensus among an internal working group before he resigned from the State Department that found Israel violated legal requirements to receive U.S. aid.

Under the law, the U.S. can't supply military aid or training to countries that violate human rights. Biden has also specified that aid shouldn't go to countries that "more likely than not" are used to commit or facilitate genocide or break international law.[...]

"at the same time we are having [allegedly tough] conversations we are authorizing billions of dollars in military aid and I'm not sure the message is coming across," he said.[...]

last November [...] Biden called the idea of conditions a "worthwhile thought."

Since then, Biden approved two emergency transfers of military aid totaling some $254 million – bypassing Congress to rush tank munitions and related equipment to Israel.

3 Apr 24

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clarksels · 1 year

Text

Kiss the screen

Leah Williamson x fem!Reader

You and your friends were ready to watch the TV show, Vivianne was in the kitchen preparing something with Beth, Ella and Katie were making god knows what and Rue, Alessia and you were in your seats waiting for the show's special guest, Leah Williamson, to appear.

After a while Leah finally appeared, you called the others to come closer "I don't want to hear a single noise" you said without taking your eyes off the TV "you heard, nobody talk" Toone said to annoy you, but you were totally lost in your fiancée's smile.

"she looks beautiful" Beth commented quietly, unlike the comments Katie and Ella were making, you were barely listening to the interview, Leah was wearing the engagement ring, a part of you wanted them to ask her about that.

Leah seemed to be having fun and also looked confident during the interview so far, the other guests were nice to her "that dude is seeing her a lot" said McCabe taking one of the snacks Miedema had made, you ignored her.

"I noticed you are engaged, how exciting!" said the interviewer and the applause from the audience was heard, Alessia near you gave you a jolt of excitement for the question "tell me, when will the wedding be?" continued the presenter "no date yet, but it's possible next year" answered Leah smiling, the girls around you started to make noise "shhhhh" you didn't want to miss a detail.

"congratulations!" said the host and both the audience and the other guests applauded "let he know she's engaged" said Katie, referring to the man sitting next to Leah "she's watching the show now" Leah commented to her host "I love you" said Leah to the camera, not caring about the teasing you were going to get from your friends you replied to your future wife's I love you.

"Kiss the screen if you want" said McCabe "she's jealous because you're getting married first" said Russo. Of the couples in your group of friends, you and Leah had been the first to get engaged.

Although for some, marriage was silly, for you it was important to let Leah know that you loved her for life.

Ella pulled out her cell phone and started taking pictures "I'll put these pictures up at the wedding" she said taking pictures even of the food on the table.

The feeling you were having at that moment you wouldn't trade for anything, a Saturday night with your best friends, watching your fiancée achieve her goals, being yourself, it was what you always wanted.

#leah williamson #leah williamson one shot #fem reader #leah williamson imagine #vivianne miedema #beth mead #ruesha littlejohn #katie mccabe #alessia russo #ella toone #lionesses #arsenal #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso

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minustwofingers · 6 months

Text

love is a laserquest p.1

masterlist

pairing: rockstar!ellie williams x reader

request: @thatgiraffefromtlou so kindly included me on a post about writing something inspired by these beautiful edits :) thank you !

summary: after a serious of unfortunate events, columbia grad y/n y/l/n finds herself using her hard-earned journalism degree interviewing vapid stars and writing articles that she's convinced are rotting her mind. ellie williams has just dropped the album of the year and it's all anyone is talking about, but all she wants is to be off the press train. a certain interview with a certain interviewer might change this.

warnings: no cws, but i will say that i don't know anything about this career path so i apologize if i'm totally butchering it!

a/n: see ? see? i promise i haven't forgotten about you guys/this blog/this request. this is admittedly a short installment, but you've all been so good about waiting and i had a little itch to write tonight. hopefully more of this will be posted soon. i hope you enjoy!

tags :) @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

wc: 1.8k

enjoy!

“Hi. I’m Y/N.”

You sit and extend your hand, smiling as diplomatically as you can manage to the girl sitting across from you.

She ignores you.

“I said hi,” you repeat.

One painted eyebrow arches the slightest, but she doesn’t look your way.

You grit your teeth. A question list that you’ve meticulously prepared is memorized and tucked away in your mind, but now you’re just furious that you spent so much time preparing for an interview with someone who wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

While you wait for the camera crew to get ready, you sit and observe the room—movie posters behind both you and Lina, bright lights that are already making you sweat shone down from above, and a homey oak wood coffee table between you two to give the air of casualness.

God, you hate this. All you want to do is go home.

“Ready?” a cameraman says from the side.

You send a game smile his way. “Ready.”

“We’re rolling.”

“Hi!” said the girl across from you, suddenly laser-focusing her attention on you with so much bubbly energy that it made you feel like you’d gotten whiplash. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m so glad that we were able to do this.”

“Me too,” you respond, saccharine sweet. “You have no idea how excited we are to have you, Lina! It seems like all anyone wants to talk about nowadays is your role in Ontario.”

The interview’s length is oppressive and mind-numbing. By the time you ask your last question and Lina sends you her last dazzling smile, you’re already on the brink of offing yourself on the camera for all to see.

“And cut,” said someone over your shoulder.

You relax, letting out a long breath. That was the last one for the day. You got to go home now.

But since you were a normal human being, you give Lina one last try to redeem herself.

“It was great having you,” you say in a way that you hope reads as genuine. “Thank you for coming in.”

Lina doesn’t respond—she’s already back on her phone, intent on ignoring you.

The drive home is awful and long and full of LA traffic. It was something you’d never quite forgive your younger self for—not advocating for yourself sooner. If you had, maybe you would’ve already been taking the subway alongside all the other New Yorkers, surrounded by serious people wearing serious clothes and carrying serious things around in their briefcase.

Instead you got the quirkiness of Southern California, all arid air full of cigarette smoke and lost aspirations. When you first came to LA, naive and blithely optimistic about your prospects as a journalist, you thought that living near Hollywood would be exciting, all the energy and dreams like firecrackers to the social scene.

Then you got off the plane and realized it’d all been a lie. There’s no hope in a place like Hollywood. It’s the most hopeless place in the world, knowing that all your servers and Uber drivers and retail employees are all working 3 other jobs to make up their rent as they chase a dream that will never happen.

Because no one ever makes it big. Well—no one really. One year into your life at PopNow! has made you interact with more people who have, you suppose, “made it big”, and each interaction is dependably more absurd than the last. Like Lina. God, you hate Lina.

You reach your apartment right when the sun is kissing the horizon, the royal purple of the night descending upon the sky. That was another thing you missed—the stars. You’d missed them when you were at Columbia, but that was when you knew you went back home to the midwestern countryside. Now you’re stuck in the light-polluted hell of California, and there’s no way to know when you’re going to get out.

You should have turned the job down, you think to yourself as you get ready for bed. The face wash you rub into your skin obediently forms into silky little bubbles. You should have just done whatever you’d had to do to stay in New York, even if it meant being unemployed and living in a broom closet with 3 other people.

But you’re a writer. And you’re getting published, and that’s all that matters.

Or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

The assignment is in your inbox when you wake up the next morning at a prompt 5:30am. As you go about your normal routine, you let the words in the message sink in.

Alyssa’s in the hospital. Emergency appendectomy.

Alyssa’s the most senior writer at PopNow!, regularly netting the juiciest recorded interviews.

…interview today that needs to be completed…

You angrily beat your legs back into scissor kicks as you run through the motions of your favorite apartment-friendly pilates routine. Today was supposed to be your day off.

…musician Ellie Williams…

…2pm…

…great opportunity…

You have no fucking clue who Ellie Williams is. She’s never been mentioned on NPR or the New York Times, the only two news sources you bother to follow, so she can’t be that relevant. Or at least not relevant enough to warrant you losing your one day off. But that’s what it’s like to be working in showbiz. Your days don’t belong to you anymore.

By the time that you’re in the studio, hands folded and question list memorized, you feel like you know all you need to know about Ellie.

She’s got everything you need to be a world-wide sensation. Humble, small-town beginnings? Check. Sympathetic backstory that makes even the most hardened viewer’s heart soften? Check. Conveniently conventionally attractive features, well-placed tattoos, and a certain swagger that seems so natural it has to be somehow hard-coded into her genes? Check, check, and check.

You’ve interviewed hundreds of Ellie Williams. You’re ready for this.

Jan from production sets out glasses of water on the table in front of you, one for you and another poised in front of the empty chair.

“You ready?” she asks, not unkindly. “Don’t be nervous. I know that this might be a bigger one than you’re used to, but there’s a reason why Stephen asked you to fill in for Alyssa. You’ve got this, honey.”

“Thank you,” you say. The smile you send her back is tense, because as much as you hate to admit it, you are nervous. It’s ridiculous how something you don’t even care about for an industry you think is bullshit is capable of getting under your skin, but you’d done very few recorded interviews. When you imagined what kind of hard-hitting journalism you’d be doing back when you were at Columbia, it was nothing like this.

You sit and wait, bouncing your leg and hoping the rest of you looks at ease. The set is as corny and soulless as always, one tall houseplant shoved half-heartedly between the two blue cushioned chairs like an afterthought. There’s a stack of magazines on the coffee table between you two, as if you’d crack open People mid-shot.

You hate your job so much. You always feel so bad thinking this way—there are people out there who would probably actually kill for the chance to be rubbing elbows with the celebrities you did on a regular basis—but whenever you start feeling too guilty, you think of how you ended up here, your dream internship getting whisked away by fucking nepo baby Becca, and then you let yourself be angry again.

A door slams shut, and suddenly you’re all business again.

The first thing you notice about Ellie Williams is that she’s actually very tiny, especially in comparison to the burly camera man that she squeezes by to make her way on set. She’s looking a little preppier than she does on stage, donning a pair of wide-legged black trousers, chunky black docs, and a haphazardly buttoned forest green shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough for you to see the entirety of her arm tattoo.

“Hi.” You rise from your chair to offer a hand, feel the pressure of her fingers gently gripping yours. “I’m Y/N.”

Ellie blinks. “Uh, hi. I’m Ellie.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I thought Alyssa was going to be interviewing me,” says Ellie. She drops into the chair opposite of you, crossing a leg over the other thigh.

“Emergency appendectomy,” you supply.

The way Ellie reacts makes you regret this immediately.

“Oh,” she says, cringing. “Shit—oh, can I swear in here?”

“We’re not rolling yet,” you say gently.

“That’s, uh, really too bad,” she says. Her tattooed hand reaches up to scrub the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to blink and stare at her blankly. “Um, thanks? I don’t really know her.”

“Right, right.” Ellie lets out a long sigh that you take as an offense. The interview hasn’t even started, and the languid way she reclines back in the chair reads as already bored with you. “So, do we just go ahead and…”

“Yes,” you say, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah, we’re ready.”

Brilliant start.

The interview begins in earnest, and for once in your life, you’re actually rattled by this girl, by the way she tilts her head at your questions, tongue running over the flat of her front teeth. She has freckles sprinkled across her nose that didn’t show up in any of the photos you’ve seen of her on stage. The ones where she’s awash in blue light, guitar slung over her shoulder and hair sticking to her forehead. It’s disquieting, honestly, how she could just spring a surprise like that on you.

By some miracle, you manage to get through your list of questions without forgetting anything, but sometimes you stutter on your delivery and have to fight to keep yourself from grimacing. Nothing that she tells you is ground-breaking, nothing you don’t already know. In other interviews, you’re normally able to slip into a sort of conspiratorial voice, prying out information and digging a little deeper than your interviewees intend. But with Ellie, you’re paralyzed, stuck straight to the script that had been sent over to Ellie’s publicist for approval.

Not like you’d get away with anything when it came to Ellie, either. She has bags under her eyes that you can see concealer creasing in. It’ll wash out post-production under the bright studio lights, but up close it’s obvious that she’s not interested in entertaining any bullshit.

When it’s over, you’re sure your face is on fire with how hot your cheeks feel. Ellie looks just as nonplussed as ever.

“It was nice to meet you,” you squeak out.

She takes her time answering you, busy with draining the glass of water Jan had set out in front of you both and, once it’s empty, fiddling with the buttons on her sleeves.

“Likewise,” she says, and then before you can think to say anything else, she’s gone.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams self insert

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