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#[I mean - I may say that but it's not real regret. I understand why I did that at that specific time and I understand what I was lookingfor
xeeroo08 · 1 year
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Astro observations 《3》
Disclaimer : Not an astrologer, take it with a grain of salt, only for fun.
🫧 Asteroid Orma in 8th house might be the people to leave an impression of being hella reserved in a mysterious way. Like they might tell you a story and you will always feel like there is something more to it.
🪩 Mars in 3rd house people often say something offending without meaning to and regret the very next second. Trust me it's not their fault, they wanted to say something else and ended up saying something totally unexpected. They also feel guilty about it for days and feel sad that they might have come off rude for no reason.
🫧 Neptune conjuct ascendant, they are the real chameleons. They can mold themselves as per the situation demands. Ngl it comes handy sometimes. Like I remember when I was in 6th grade I was caught into a very serious matter but I pretended as if nothing happened and flew away. When the other guys rattled me out to the teacher, she said It's impossible that I was involved and that she doesn't believe them. She didn't hear a single word against me. Lol no, I wasn't her favorite student or something. It's just that I had maintained a certain reputation among different sect of people as per my own convenience. Call it manipulation if you want, if that doesn't explain the planet itself.
🪩 Pluto trine Lilith, it's not always sexuality that comes to the mind when we hear about these folk. Lilith here is aware that pluto is her benefactor. But it takes time for her to feel comfortable in her own domain. She is powerful here and knows what she wants. Definitely won't take anyone's bullshit. Her transformation can be scary and ruthless if someone tries to pin her down.
🫧 Jupiter sextile Pluto have a deep interest in forbidden things. Learning things that often people consider taboo is their thrill. They may or may not share the knowledge but they are always resourceful about topics relatated to dark themes of life. Feel free to discuss anything with them, they won't judge you infact they will help you inhance your own boundaries. You will be surprised how normal they'll sound while talking about things that might trigger other people even if they have gone through the same.
🪩 The one guy I had a Aphrodite-Eros synastry with made me feel like...idk strange. I was on a constant pedestal. I cared a lot about him. His Eros conjucted my Aphrodite and I looked out for him a lot. There was a thick sexual tension but also comfort. He also made me get a taste of jealousy. Which I don't usually feel. I used to constantly compare myself with the girls he used to interact with. We were not dating but I just couldn't help but feel insecure. Not because of him....idk why I was acting like that when I knew I was pretty enough.
🫧 Mars opposite Venus people get sudden mood swings from doing absolutely nothing to doing everything in next one hour. Oh and they'll do it again if it ain't asthetically pleasing to the eye.
🪩 Sun sextile Saturn, trust me they do know how to control themselves and take things with a grain of salt. Their ego is well maintained and not fragile unlike others. Very understanding and real mature people.
🫧 Sun sextile/trine Moon are the most compassionate and intuned with their selves. They know themselves better than anyone else. Also they always know exactly what they are feeling at any given time. Even if they are depressed at some point they won't give up easily.
🪩 Neptune negatively aspecting Saturn, dreaming big is easy, isn't it? But when you start implanting those dreams in real life your dreams remain dreams only. Don't worry though. It's a lesson. Don't give up, try harder. Dream as big as you want but at the end of the day remember to open your eyes and start afresh with new motivation. And please don't listen to those who tell you to quit it down. Your dreams are not weird or impossible or too much. Those people are just jealous because of how big your ambitions are and how far you are willing to go for it. Don't restrict your imagination for someone else. Believe yourself, you can do it!
🫧 Pluto in 10th house solar return chart can indicate a huge change in academic life or anywhere you are working at. For better or worse you better take precautions before hand. I am having it this year with mars in 3rd house and trust me from an above average student my grades are becoming poor. If I were to describe my graph I can see it coming downhill like a water slide which is creating quite an impression on my parents as well as my teachers. Note the sarcasm.
🪩 Saturn in 7th house could indicate having no interest in relationships at first or people being afraid to ask you out but when you grow up, settle well, you find yourself looking for your better half, resulting in either meeting them late or doing an arrange marriage.
🫧 Saturn opposite ascendant are the people who often get told that they look unapproachable on first glance. Kind of the 'out of league' vibe surrounds them. Which is not always true but I have noticed people do think twice before approaching them. These sweeties are also damn soft on the inside but for only those who do dare to talk to them. They rarely take the initiative themselves. But come ask help from them and they will risk their lives for you.
🪩 Mercury aspecting chiron could indicate healing your wounds by diving into the world of books. You might like to read or write journals when you are feeling down. There might be a small diary or pages that you have written when you were at your lowest. Its also possible that you start writing a novel or something to help you voice out your pain through written words.
🫧 Sun conjuct asteroid Medusa. Damn! You could have curly hair or hairs that are a lot wavy, thick and voluminated. Highly blessed in hair department. Many people might have praised you or complimented on your hair from a very young age. This could also indiacte a lot of body hair. From top to bottom you have body hair and trust me its not a bad thing. Its a blessing of being powerful, embrace it. It's just a hunch but some may have complimented you on that too.
🪩 Mars in 3rd house can't watch porn without audio or no communication during the deed. They always want to hear the sounds, no, they NeeD to hear the sounds raw! Only visuals is boring for them just as adding some weird music to the video. No, its not creating the mood, its ruining my experience, pls stop it.
🫧 You don't wanna hear someone moan who has their personal planets conjucting asteroid Sirene. Trust me you will get addicted. Its insane and I am not bluffing. Their voice may or may not be as addictive in general but in bed? Or when they want to take something from you? You will be trapped even before you blink. It's dangerous.
🪩 What's with Taurus Mars and Laziness? So much potential and still they study few hours before exam, complete assignments few minutes before submission and still have the audacity to say they will easily pass. Like bro if that's how you pass then I can't imagine how you will top....
🫧 Moon in 4th house people are highly invested in family matters. Family comes first to them and then the rest. The kind of people to tolerate an unhappy married life for the sake of their kids because they can't see their family being split apart.
🪩 Mars aspecting Pluto. It doesn't matter if it is positively aspected or negatively aspected, there is a lot of pent up frustration and anger issues underneath this placement. If provoked or underdeveloped could result in a very sudden and violent rage from this person. Better to leave them alone in such situations.
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vhagarlovebot · 1 year
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FRUSTRATION.
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♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )
pairing: prince aemond targaryen x fem!reader
summary: aemond had a terrible day and he puts all his frustration on you.
content warnings: hurt/comfort, wife!reader, aemond says some mean things, mentions of blood, happy ending.
notes: if there are any grammatical errors i apologize, english is not my first language! hope you enjoy.
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YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN aemond acting like this before. with you he was always caring and considerate. if he was upset he’d never show it in front of you. that’s why you never believed the words that reached your ears saying that your husband needed to work on his anger, always going off on people.
at least it was that way until now.
he has just entered your chambers, not a single glance in your direction, sitting by the fireplace with a book in hand, and went straight to the vanity by the window.
he starts taking off his gloves and setting aside his dagger. and having missed him all day you leave what you are doing to go help him with his coat. at least he lets you help him before pulling away.
you smile fondly at him, even though he still does not look at you. "how was your day?" leaving the coat on the back of the chair you reach for him, but aemond turns his back to you.
that is a strange behavior but you don't think too much about it, opting instead on busying yourself by pouring tea, which you had just ordered before aemond arrived.
"helaena and i went for a walk through the gardens earlier this evening," he usually asks about your day but he seems just too tired to do more than just stare out the window. "she has expressed how much she misses you, my prince. you should visit her,"
"some of us have actual things to do." he mutters and you feel a pang in your heart at the coldness in his voice.
he looks imposing with his hands behind his back and only the light coming from the candles lightning up his profile.
"i am sure your sister will understand," you smile at him when, for a moment, his piercing gaze falls on you. "if i may say, i think it would be good if you rest for a day or two."
"no, you may not."
aemond finally turns around but you don't feel the comfort and peace your husband usually exudes. he's looking at you with such a harsh look on his face that, for a second, you don't recognize him.
"i have got responsibilities," his eye is eager and darting, nostrils flaring. "had you not married a prince then you would know what that means."
the confused look that crosses your face is not enough to stop him.
"you should try to look beyond the red keep every now and then to know the real meaning of that word."
his words are like a slap in the face, leaving you breathless and unable to compose yourself.
have you done something to upset him? as you turn around you try to think about everything you did and said since this morning when he left to start his day, he was gentle and sweet, even blowing you a kiss before disappearing behind the door. and you did not see each other all day, so this has nothing to do with you.
however, his words hurt the same.
you grab the cup of tea, slowly walking to where he is standing. "i'm sure you are right- but i was princess helaena lady-in-waiting..."
"and you believe that is enough to learn about responsibility? making sure the princess attends the events where she is needed, that all her garments are properly clean. to be careful not to mess up her hair-"
he doesn't finish his sentence because as he turns around, he's meet with your chest. the tea cup falls to the floor, shattering at your feet, and making you yelp a little.
aemond is immediately by your side, his hands touching every inch of your body. "are you good? did you get hurt?" there is regret in his eye and a worried look on his handsome features. only when he's absolutely sure you’re fine, he drops to his knees to try and clean the mess that he just made.
you come back to reality when he's muttering between his teeth, gathering the broken pieces on his hands. "my prince, you don't have to-" he groans, a piece of ceramic cutting his hand. "aemond!" you help him back to his feet, guiding him to a chair in front of the fireplace.
you are quick to fill a bowl with water and bring it with you to where he's waiting, blood dripping from the cut. kneeling between his legs you wet a cloth to start treating the wound, but aemond stops you. he doesn't say anything and you smile shyly at him, resuming your task.
"there are different types of responsibility and maybe some are more important than others, perhaps some of them also require a higher level of commitment," you say absentmindedly, cleaning the wound very carefully and wincing when he hisses.
"you don't need to explain it to me," his free hand caresses your cheek, a sad smile across his lips. "i was out of line."
"you will get no argument from me." that makes him chuckle but the shadow of guilt falls upon his face. "you know i used to take care of my family when my mother died."
"i should have not said those awful things to you, i do not mean them." you barely finished securing the bandage when his hands are immediately picking you up and making you sit on his lap. "i am not excusing myself, but i had a terrible day and instead of just saying that i wanted to be held in your arms, i let out all my frustration on you."
you feel sorry for him, although his words still sting a little. but he is your husband and if marriage is not about learning and forgiving, then why are you with him?
"next time you will sleep in the hall." he holds you close, his hands stroking your back.
"there won't be a next time. or i will feed myself to vhagar."
you giggle, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "let's just hope there won't be a next time. i'm looking forward to growing old with you, my prince."
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freuleinanna · 5 months
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I'm still confused about Verna.. I thought she was a demon?? Because why would Death be going around making a bunch of deals with people? After Verna told Pym she decided to go "topside" I thought she was some kind of crossroads demon since it implies she came from below (hell)
Oh! I feel you, and I struggled with that a lot too. She does seem a lot like a demon. I'm not saying I'm 100% correct in my thinking either, but here's why I personally think she's Death. Kind of a long post, sorry. I hope I make myself clear, but feel free to follow up!
So, Verna. An anagram for Raven, that much is established. Ravens are wonderful - symmetrical even - creatures. Bringers of death in a wide understanding. Bringers of good luck in many cultures. The duality is amazing. To me, that also leans majorly into the theme of death being a concept of duality: an enemy for some, a friend for others. Each greets her differently. I'm not talking about the characters here, but people in general.
There's a proverb I came across a while ago that reads 'Death is a great leveller'. Meaning, everyone's equal before her. You have no leverage or buffer against death, and it doesn't matter if you're poor or blindly, feverishly, grotesquely rich (like our folks here). Everyone pays the last bill. For everyone, there's a day of reckoning. It's a major theme with the show, at least. Verna also says 'Buy now, pay the bill later' - although it can still read very demonic, I agree.
She's obviously ancient, and I was leaning toward the demon theory based on all of her talking. Yet - she also keeps ranting about Egypt and pyramids and Cleopatras and such. What's the one thing with Egyptians everyone knows of? They honored death. Death may have been a bigger part of their lives than life itself. The Usher Twins' obssession with all things Egyptian, antiquities, jewelry, swords and such, plays a nice parallel here too, because they're just collectors. They have no grain of honor for the real thing, for what these things are tied to. Kind of a nice thought, I guess.
Anyway, back to Verna. She says on multiple occasions how intrigued she is with us, 'adorable little things'. She saw the pyramids, the expeditions, and she wanted to see what else we do, she wanted to see what Roderick and Madeline will do (in her own words). It's all an experiment to her. She makes an offer just to see what we, people, do.
Here's where my beef with a demon theory comes in. No demonic creature I could think of, be it an actual demon, a trickster, or something else, is that sincerely intrigued. Something something death loving life something something.
Demons, in my understanding, are most interested in winning the deal. They come up with incredible challenges, they enjoy torture, emotional or physical, they never let anyone win. Verna has never once expressed this. Quite the opposite. She gives everyone a chance to step back. Even when the ink has dried and everything's decided, each Usher sibling is conditioned to make a choice: push forward, or step back. Neither of them steps back. Neither of them takes a long hard look at themselves (except Tamerlane, both literally haha and figuratively, as she's the only one to have realized how lost she was in her way - just at the end, when it didn't really matter anymore, but still). Verna is kind to those she takes (sincere pet names, regrets of having to do it this way, making sure they know it's not personal, etc). She grieves with them, just before. Grieving - 'The Raven' being about an expression of grief and trauma - ravens as synonyms for death... you get the gist. Oh! Except Freddie - cause Freddie struck a cord. Infuriated her. So he doesn't get an expressed choice. And he would've blown it like coke anyway, so meh.
And then Arthur Pym. Oh, Arthur Pym. I honestly couldn't imagine a demon kneeling and thanking someone who's refused them.
About Arthur Pym, by the way. It's the one story I hadn't reread, and I should have, it turns out! haha Anyway, a few notes about his travels:
In the story, Arthur Pym is expressedly afraid of white color (North Pole, yada yada, white being the absense of colors/life, and the absense of life is death).
Verna enumerates the moments she witnessed of his travels. Someone getting left in Sahara. Someone getting shot in the Arctic. Something bad that was done to an Inuit woman. Why would she follow Arthur so closely? She didn't know him, he wasn't her favorite. I think it's because she came to collect those deaths. If she is death, she would've been exactly there, where people died. She would have also seen Arthur not partaking.
Aaaaaaaand it makes her 'You saw me' line sound better, because he had sure seen death along his travels.
I think the part about a place of out-of-time, out-of-space creatures and hollow Earth was a bit unnecessary, BUT I can try and tie it in this way:
It showed us how Arthur might have coped with what he saw, and he 'saw a lot', even in his 70s it's difficult for him to recall, and it made him think of humanity as a virus, literally;
He might have thought up that ethereal realm simply because he was in an expedition? Exhaustive conditions for both body and spirit? Traumatic experiences? If he saw Death, he might have cloaked it in his mind to cope with it, thus came his stories;
Verna going 'topside' may just mean that she had to go take a look herself, actually be willingly present for the events - to see the brave little humans conquer the earth. 'Topside', as in, 'visible, present, participating'. If Death exists, I doubt it bothers with our boring human realm but lives downunder, among all threads that weave the world.
So that's that on Arthur Pym.
A few other references my mind is too exhausted to tie in nicely:
Death takes Lenore. THE Lenore from 'The Raven' (mostly) and 'Lenore' (secondary). That happened. Also, death talking to a child of life? Regretting having to take her? Not very demonic of dear ol' Verna, in my opinion.
Her mourning veil, her last toasts to the Ushers at the cemetery? Demons don't tend to grieve their players. Demons don't respect and love them enough, and 'what is grief, if not love persevering'?
Death is the last threshold. Before death, we look upon our legacy (major theme with the show), we remember our losses and loves (Annabel Lee!!!!! love the poem, brilliantly done), we get heavy with regrets. We face death as an enemy & fight, like Madeline did. As a friend, like Arthur did. We confess, like Roderick did. All that is too significant to me overall.
And the last thing. It's Edgar Allan Poe. The whole Death tribute is a giant, incredible, thought-through-to-the-bits hommage to his literature where Death, figuratively and literally, takes the throne.
I hope I managed to express myself alright there. Thanks if you read it through, and as I said before, feel free to follow up or elaborate on some ideas. There are oceans to discuss. <3
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kiwisbell · 6 months
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Larks and Katydids [dave york]
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There's something sweet about you that keeps him coming back to this little diner. You do not know the dark corners of the world he lives in. But you will.
my masterlist!
pairing: dave york x f!reader
rating: 18+ (mdni)
tags and warnings: dom/sub dynamic, age gap (20s/40s), blood, violence, murder, soft!dave, dom!dave, stalker!dave, but in a cute way, it's for your own good, obsession, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (wrapping before tapping etc.), brief orgasm denial, submissive reader, dave is a bamf, protective!dave, possessive!dave, dave is nice but only to you, shirley jackson references, fingering, creampie, daddy kink, sweet girl being a dave york staple, kidnapping, implied innocence kink
word count: ~ 14.7k
a/n: y'know what.. now that i'm looking back it.. this fic kinda gives red light and now i'm wondering if i might need some serious introspection for writing shit like this. anyway ☠️ some of you know may already be aware that my earlier fics were inspired by hozier songs. this one was somewhat of an ode to nfwmb, but that may just be because i listened to it non-stop while writing. anyway, if you haven't already read this one-shot, please enjoy!! xoxo
LARKS AND KATYDIDS
His eyes keep drifting toward the sweet, pretty thing behind the counter. 
Dave has instincts. Good ones. For one, he knows that the idiot sitting across from him is not the type of client he wants to make a deal with. Senator Isaiah Berkeley may have the means and motive to kill his cheating wife, but Dave’s instincts prickle up the back of his neck. Berkeley is flighty, nervous, visibly sweating at the brow. He’ll be a liability. Some men are not built for the jagged edges of this life. The man still wears his wedding ring, for fuck’s sake. He’d regret hiring Dave the second he found his wife’s body after a fall down the stairs.
Dave never doubts his instincts. Now, they sink their claws into his eyes until he cannot help but flick them toward your pretty face. Jesus, you’re pretty. This diner is a hole in the wall, a red-and-white and black-checkered-floor retro nightmare that smells vaguely of syrup, and he’s surprised the staff aren’t wearing fucking rollerskates to deliver the food. But the coffee is good, and the food is real, and there’s not another soul here. Except for you.
He likes the simple black shirt and skirt you wear, and he likes the way you roll up your apron to make it fit the curves of your body. He likes the shape of your mouth, the gentle touch to your eyes, the way you beamed at him when they entered the diner. Best seat in the house, you said when you sat them in the corner. Dave tasted honey when he tried your name out loud and took his order: two coffees, black. You smiled, like you could have guessed, and said, Be right up. You don’t carry a notepad. It makes him like you more: you’re clever. You remember things. 
You’re standing behind the counter and reading a book, your chin in your palm, and he’s fascinated by the speed of your eyes across the pages. He understands why you’re so quick when a gruff male voice erupts from the kitchen, calling a name that must be yours. “Get back to work,” he snaps. 
You scramble to hold your place in the book and scurry around the counter to check up on your only two customers. As if you hadn’t been so good, so attentive. You’re good. He knows it. You should be treated like it. Dave’s fingers twitch, like he can swipe at the faint frown that furrows your brow. Fuck, you’re adorable, even flustered, especially flustered. 
“How you folks doing?” you ask, that sweet smile a poison that festers in his blood. “Sure I can’t get you anything else?”
“No,” says Berkeley shortly, not meeting your eye. Could he be any more conspicuous?
Dave, rubbing his fingertips over his bottom lip, doesn’t want to leave it at that. “What are you reading?” he asks.
You blink as if you’ve never heard the question before, but you don’t ask him to repeat himself. He likes that, too. “Oh,” you say, and it sounds like a trembling sigh of excitement. Dave feels himself swell up a little with pride. “It’s called We Have Always Lived in the Castle.”
He hums. “Jackson.”
He likes being the one who dropped that sparkle into your eyes. “You like her?”
“I know her,” he says. Across from him, Berkeley’s fingers are white-knuckling the handle of his coffee mug. He’s staring into the dregs like he expects them to tell him his fortune. “Don’t have a lot of time for reading nowadays. Do you like it?”
You nod eagerly, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining the way you lean toward him slightly, as if frantic to answer his question. “I’m reading it for a literature course I’m taking. I think she’s one of my favourites now. But I really shouldn’t have my nose in a book at work.”
Oh. You’re young. You’re young, still in college, and you’re goddamn smart. The interest stirring in his pants mirrors that in his head. 
“Our secret,” says Dave. “I’ll have more coffee, please, honey.”
He certainly does not imagine the way you bite your lip to suppress your grin and hurry off for the coffee pot, a little mouse. You like to please. He doesn’t need more coffee; he and Berkeley are almost done, whether he knows it or not. 
“I can’t take your contract, Senator,” says Dave, still watching your perky ass as you walk away. “You’ll have to find somebody else.”
Berkeley’s mouth opens in preparation for what Dave presumes will be a flurry of feeble threats and reassurances that I can pay you well, but Dave slips out of the booth and walks away—not before slapping down a couple bills that will cover the cost of their coffees. 
He should go back into town, sleep, and get Kovac to reach out to some more potential clients. But he wants to linger for a bit, hang around, see why his instincts are pushing him toward you, you pretty young thing with a smile that dims all other light. You’re on your way back to their table, holding the coffee pot, and nearly bump into him in your rush. “Oh!”
Dave steadies you with a firm grip around your elbow and doesn’t let go. Your skin is soft, prickled with goosebumps. 
You bow your head in instant submission, instant apology, and he tilts his head to the side. He makes you nervous. “Could’ve hurt yourself,” he says softly. 
“I’m sorry. Guess I was excited.” Your eyes flicker up toward him, and he forces them to stay there when he lifts your chin with his finger. 
“Exceptional customer service,” says Dave. Your laugh is breathless. “I was just leaving. Don’t worry about that second cup, sweetheart.” He drops his hand only to dig out a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and place it in your palm. “Wrong Jackson, I know.”
Your eyes widen at it. “This is way more than your coffee.”
Dave lifts his brow. “You want me to put it in your pocket myself?”
You slowly pocket the bill. “Thank you,” you tell him. It’s strong and clear, and he likes the way it sounds coming from your mouth. 
“I was in college once,” he says good-naturedly. “In ancient times. I know the costs.”
Your laugh, your real laugh, is the chimes of dawn. You’re so bright. You’re the sun slowly painting the sky orange as it rises. “I’ll be done in a few months.”
“Yeah?” Dave frowns. “What’ll you do after?”
You shrug one shoulder. Your other arm is still burdened with holding up the coffee pot. “Hopefully, get as far away from here as I can.”
“Your parents suffocating you?” He’s good at digging, at unearthing treasures with only words; he shouldn’t have to be, in this line of work, but he likes to know things. Likes the control that comes with being prepared for anything, everything. 
“They’re dead,” you tell him. It’s plain, colourless, and Dave’s curiosity deepens. “I live with my uncle.”
There it is. 
Everybody has a trigger. People are like guns. They are predictable, but if you handle them wrong, they’ll jam. He catches the way your eyes shutter at the mention of your uncle, the way your shoulders round slightly, even though that brilliant smile is still on your face. Dave doesn’t like it. 
“Does he treat you good?”
Your slow blink is trancelike. “He’s family,” you say simply, and Dave knows that’s the answer you give every time the man doesn’t treat you so good. 
He grinds his teeth a little bit, an old habit from his smoking days. “Well, I hope you get the hell out of dodge,” he says. 
“Please come again,” you say. “God knows I’ll still be here.”
Oh, he’ll come again. In fact, he decides, he may not even leave.
~
Dave follows you home. 
It’s a short drive once you pull your beat-up Cooper off the highway and enter a little courtyard surrounded by dilapidated apartments. He knows the area. And he knows it’s not safe. Dave turns off his headlights and idles in the hazard zone, watching as you exit your car and rush to the front door with your purse clutched to your chest. He shakes his head, clicks his tongue to himself. Scared little bird, too pretty to live in a place like this.
He waits a little longer. Eventually, he sees you—he knows it’s you, even five storeys up, from the length of your hair and the way it moves—shuck the curtains open. It’s a small window of orange glowing light in the darkness, but he can see you. A man—your uncle—approaches the window, too, lifting the pane and blowing a cloud of smoke outside. Dave rolls down his window and strains his ear. It’s useless; he can’t hear a thing. And yet, he waits. 
He doesn’t know what he waits for. Maybe he’s expecting him to hit you, to lash out, to do something. Something that would let Dave scratch the itch in his knuckles. Instead, he’s only waiting, until your uncle tosses his cigarette out the window and latches it shut. He is evicted from your world for tonight. But he will not go quietly.
It begins with a phone call. Ari. Need you to track someone down for me. 
Your uncle’s name is Jason. He doesn’t share your last name, having been a half-brother to your father, but it’s him. Felony charges: breaking and entering, assault, possession. Run-of-the-mill, except it isn’t, because the fucker lives with you. As far as Dave has been able to dig up, you’ve never reported a word against him, but it seems you like to stay away most of the time, anyway.
Oh, yes. Dave has been digging into you, too.
Senior in college, majoring in Environmental Science at Northeastern. Long-standing and passionate affair with nature. Event Coordinator for SAF (Students for a Future), where you’ve organised speaker panels with renowned climatologists and planted trees in Franklin Park. You write for the association’s newsletter. 
All of it makes Dave frown, rubbing at his brow, hunched over his desk under the light of a single lamp. You’re so good. You’re clever and optimistic and ambitious, and you deserve a hell of a lot better than living in that shithole and working such a lacklustre job. He looks at the picture that accompanies your file, pulled from your social media, and adjusts the hard length in his pants. You’re photographed in the sunlight, smiling bright, your hair loose and gently blown about in the breeze, wearing a skimpy little sundress. Dave hisses and squeezes himself at the base of his stiffening cock. Jesus, get it together, he scolds himself. It’s a fucking photograph. 
Oh, but he’s thinking about you. He’s remembering the tenderness of you, the kind heart, the way you belong nowhere near him. Your soul is snow-white. He will bloody it. 
You've had boyfriends. Of course you have. A young woman who looks like you doesn't go her whole life without boys clumsily tossing themselves at your feet. It doesn't mean Dave refrains from investigating them, too. Two of them were from high school, short-term, and went to different colleges to live different lives. The third—Jack—lasted a year and a half, and you met him in a first-year sciences course. Both of you were from different towns, fish out of water, and gravitated to one another because you had no other friends. None of your friends were surprised when you and Jack began dating, but they were surprised to discover he'd been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship. 
Jack said you got busy and couldn't fulfil his needs. According to Dave’s thorough research, the girl he crawled to was his roommate's girlfriend. Dave grinds his teeth as he examines the kid’s picture. He's a fucking kid. He's clean-cut, a trust fund baby, never planted a tree in Franklin Park despite your attempts to convince him. He's never gotten his hands dirty the way Dave has. He's never bloodied them. 
Another sip of whiskey, and his cock won’t rest. Dave grunts, unzipping his pants and whipping his belt off, pulling himself out. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes fixed on your smiling face as he spits into his hand and begins to stroke himself. “Fuck.”
His head tips back against the headrest of his office chair. You’re kneeling in front of him, your sweet doe’s eyes awaiting his instruction. He takes you through it, step-by-step, because he’s a bad man, but he’d be good to you. Your perfect lips wrap around his head, your tongue lapping up the precum that beads out, greedy but obedient. You take him deeper, choking around his length and his girth, your mascara smearing as he cups your face and encourages you to take me, you can take me, sweet girl. You do—of course you do—making a low, satisfied hum around his cock when you manage to take him down your throat, happily swallowing around him as he begins to pump his cum inside you. That’s it. That’s it, baby. 
Dave’s hips jerk as he comes, and splatters his cum across his stomach and his hand. Some of it, though, lands on the picture of you, which he does not remember picking up, clenching in his fist.
Is there a circle of hell darker than the one he’s already destined for?
Dave returns to the diner the next week, and your grin when you see him soaks through his bones. You nearly bruise your hips in your rush to get around the counter to greet him. 
“I loved it,” you tell him right away, “the Jackson book. I think I’m gonna write my paper on it.”
He likes that you want to tell him about your life. He likes that you trust him with the small details. He doesn't want you to trust another man like that. It's a dangerous world and being so trusting will burn you. He can't let that happen. Little bird, with your glass bones so breakable. 
He unwinds his arm from behind his back and offers his gift to you. Your eyes glimmer when you see it, then slide slowly up to meet his. “You brought me a book,” you gasp, “and I don’t even know your name yet.”
“It’s Dave,” he tells you, placing the book into your hand. “I looked her up. Thought you might be interested in more.”
“Dark Tales,” you read, beaming up at him with the same smile from the picture he’d jerked his cock over. Fucking Christ. He’s going to hell. You step closer to him and, tentatively, as if he might lash out at you, lift up onto your toes and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Dave.”
He tries to quell the arousal that’s pumping blood double-time to his cock. He really tries. But he cannot quell the memory of your lips on his skin. Why should he deny himself the heavenly indulgence of your attention? 
“I expect a book report,” he says, all stern brows and unwavering eye contact. 
You hug the book to your chest and he wants to shove you to your knees, bend you over the counter, bury his face in your needy pussy. You say his name, and it’s a whispering shockwave that trembles all the way down his spine. “After such a thoughtful gift… I’ll do anything you want me to.”
Yes. Yes, he knows.
Dave knows what you need. He is what you need. 
You need a man who will treat you right. You need someone to handle you properly, assuredly. You need a man who will hold you like you’re precious, shimmering granules of a crushed diamond. You want to be told what to do. You want to be dominated, protected, fucked. You want to be wrecked, and you want it to put you back together. 
You need a man who will treat you right for the first time in your life. 
Dave continues to come into the diner once a week. He steals you away for conversation whenever you aren’t attending to your other customers, and he gets a tick in his jaw whenever you’re whisked away. Your very existence evicts reason from his head. He wants to give you all the money you could ever want just to get you away from those wandering eyes and too-close hands. He wants to come in every single night you work just so he can keep an eye out: your silent, deadly protector. He wants to slash all the tires that aren’t his so nobody can come here and invade his private time with you. He knows he cannot do any of this because it’s something close to clinically insane. 
Instead, he only talks to you. And really fucking enjoys it. 
“And then Kate broke up with Garrett, even though she still loves him, but once she realised it, she realised Emily was totally in love with Garrett, so by the time Kate went back to beg him to take her back, he was already in bed with Emily, and now none of them are talking. And I’m down three club members.”
You speed through all of this while pouring his coffee, and Dave tries to wrap his head around the plot. “So… what did Emily do wrong?”
You click your tongue. “You would fail a test on girl code, Mr. York. We don’t go after one another’s boyfriends, crushes, or exes. We definitely don’t fuck them.”
Dave vaguely shakes his head. “They didn’t teach me that in school, sweet girl.”
“Good thing you’ve got me, then,” you say, and Dave never gets tired of the way your cheeks flush at the nickname. “What did you study?”
“Never went to college. Joined up when I was eighteen.”
“Oh.” You’re flustered right away, opening your mouth to stumble over the words, “Thank you for—”
Dave silences you with a mere flick of his eyes upward. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew the shit I did.”
The quiet lingers heavy and stifling, but it’s you who breaks it. “So,” you try, clearing your throat, “what did you do after?”
“Apparently, I thought serving my country was the only way to go. I was C.I.A.” He notes the way you blink in astonishment, and he feels compelled to make you learn that he isn’t good. “Now, I own a security company.”
“Does that mean you protect people’s homes from break-ins, or people hire you to professionally break in?”
The twist of your lips is wicked and shoots right to his cock. Dave leans over the counter. “Wanna take a guess?”
“Sorry, Mr. York. Anyone that secretive about their job description is up to something shifty.” Your eyes still tease him. “And I don’t want to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Bills to pay.”
“You know I’d keep you safe, sweet girl.”
You’re cleaning the counter with a rag and he’s sipping his coffee, but both of you are smiling behind your respective tasks. “I know,” you say, your eyes briefly meeting.
Every so often, he follows you to school. It’s nice: friendly, modern with natural touches, good to look at among the fall leaves that crunch underfoot. And there you are, walking down the steps, wearing a Northeastern sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and sneakers, your hair loose. You're laughing at something your friend said; in fact, you seem to be surrounded by friends. Dave slips his sunglasses further down his nose as he leans back against the Lincoln. His popular butterfly, so happy and brilliant. 
He doesn't know how your eyes find him so quickly, but they meet across the courtyard. And a game begins. 
You stop in your tracks. Your friend puts a hand on your shoulder (“Are you okay?” he imagines she asks), and you nod, making up some excuse. Dave folds his arms over his chest and watches you continue your walk down the path, departing with all but one of your friends with friendly waves good-bye. 
He knows your class schedule, which means he knows you have to walk right by his parking spot to get to the building. You make it to the end of the path and your friend finally spots Dave. Oh my God, he sees her whisper. The rest is unintelligible, but he's smug as a motherfucker when you bite down on your lip to hide the grin that's tugging on your pretty mouth. And then your hand twitches, and something falls to the ground behind you. 
Dave smirks. Clever thing. He rushes to pick up the key ring while you and your friend keep walking. “Excuse me, miss,” he calls out. 
You turn around, all coy and demure, and he wants to drag you inside his car and sit you right on his cock to straighten out your behaviour. “You dropped your keys,” says Dave, lifting them up with a jingle. 
You feign a gasp. “Oh, thank you, sir.” You make sure to brush your fingers along his knuckles as you pluck the key ring from his hand. “You're a hero.”
Dave lifts his brows in acknowledgement, looking at you over his sunglasses. “I've heard those are good,” he says, eyes flicking down toward Dark Tales, bookmarked near the end and tucked under your arm. Behind you, your friend has her thumbnail in her mouth, enraptured in the conversation that's unfolding. 
He’ll have to rectify your lip-biting habit. “I got it as a present,” you tell him, your fingers tracing the title on the cover. You know exactly what you're doing, and the thrill of knowing you're attracted to him thrills Dave. 
“Very thoughtful,” he muses. “I’m sorry to keep you. You must have somewhere to be.”
“Thank you again.” You look up at him through your lashes and Dave feels his nostrils flare. Your friend tugs on your elbow and he can hear the vague whisper as you both retreat from him: … so hot. 
It's been a few months since he met you. He finds himself following you home and sleeping in his car outside your apartment more than in his own home. It irks him that he can't look inside and see that you're okay, knowing with absolute confidence that he hasn't hurt you. 
The night something goes wrong, you sense it long before he does. 
The diner is occupied by two other customers, one in the corner and the other by the door. Not unusual for this time. Dave approaches the counter and prepares to tease you about your incidental meeting yesterday. 
But you just smile politely at him and ask, “What can I get for you tonight?”
Dave frowns. “Sweet girl—”
“Coffee?” You pick up the pot and Dave starts at the way your hand trembles so badly the coffee spills over the rim of the cup. He wants to touch you, reach out and wrap his firm hand around your wrist, steady your nerves. Why are you so frightened? “I’m sorry,” you say shakily, scrambling for the rag under the counter. 
Dave’s instincts are never wrong. Something, or someone, has put you out of sorts. His blood reaches a simmer at the thought. His job is to protect you. He's supposed to keep you safe and happy. But your eyes are stricken with fear and your posture is stiff. The rag in your hand won't stop shaking. 
It’s the way your apron sits askew, like you've been anxiously twisting it, or it's the way you smile like he's a stranger and hand him something small, “a little something extra,” on the house. 
He unfurls his palm and finds a note. 
The man in the corner has a gun, it says. 
You don’t once stop smiling.
He doesn't recognise the man. He wears a leather jacket and jeans; there's a scar on his cheek and over the bridge of his nose, which is bent from one too many breaks; and he's looking right at Dave with a crooked smile on his face. He lifts a hand and waves. There's a tattoo on his wrist: the sigil of the Lukov Brotherhood. Dave dips his chin in greeting. Cordial. A farce. They both know it.
Dave takes a sip from his cup. “Spill coffee on me,” he says behind the rim, obscuring his mouth from the view of the man in the corner. 
You go to top up his drink and overshoot, staining the front of his white dress shirt. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” you squeak. 
Dave feigns a mild-mannered annoyance. “Where's your bathroom?” he asks, shucking off his jacket. 
You gesture for him to follow you and usher him into the tiny, one-stall bathroom. You slump against the door and put your hands over your face. A shudder racks your whole body. 
Dave can't have this. He crowds you, taking your wrists and prying them from your face. “Sweetheart.” He brushes a knuckle over your cheek. “Did he hurt you?”
You swallow thickly. “No. No, he just walked in and asked for a table, but he pointed the gun at me and said he was waiting for the right person. Said I wouldn't get hurt if I didn't get in the way.” Your eyes meet his, frantic. “Oh, God, did I just get in the way?”
Dave pulls you into his chest and lets you rest your cheek on his heart. Your breathing evens out as you listen to it beat, strong and steady. “He's a hired killer. He’s probably here for me.”
“No.” You shake your head, shoving away from him. “No, he can't… He can't do that. Why would he—?”
“I lied to you, sweet girl.” Dave cups the back of your head and bunches your hair in his fist. He needs to make you understand. “The first night we met, a senator was asking me to kill his wife for him.”
“You…” For a moment, you trail off, lingering on the silence. He can't tell whether you want to flee or bury yourself in his chest again. To his shock, a small burst of laughter escapes you, and you slap your hand over your mouth to stay quiet. “I knew you didn't just break into houses. Someone with a car like yours, all those nice suits… God, I’m stupid.”
You're trembling a little from the shock, but Dave needs to take care of the problem and get you out safely. “I need you to work with me,” he tells you. “You listening to me?”
You nod vigorously. “I’m listening, Dave.”
“Good. Good girl.” He squeezes your hip. “You need to get out through the back. I’m going to give you my keys; get in my car and lock the doors. Not your car. Mine.” 
“What about you? Dave, what if he hurts you?”
It fills him with a certain courage to know how deeply you care for him. “He's a lackey, sweetheart. Joined a so-called brotherhood just to scratch an itch.” Dave leans in and kisses your forehead. “He's not gonna get me.”
He's certainly not going to get you. 
Dave reaches past you to open the door, but you grab his wrist. “Wait.”
He barely opens his mouth before you're standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his. It's a frantic, hurried kiss, but it's enough. It's enough for Dave. He's going to win because he needs to take you home with him. 
When you pull away, he pins you with a stern look. “My car, sweet girl. No detours.”
He opens the door and lets you flee, and then Dave is rolling up his sleeves, rolling his head around his neck. 
The other customer has left, meaning Dave and the Lukov lackey are alone. “Mr. York,” he greets, toasting his cup of coffee with a grin. He's fucking cocky, thinks Dave, lifting the drink you poured for him. “She's very pretty.”
Yeah, he's going to make this hurt. 
“Let's get this over with,” says Dave, approaching the man’s table and sitting across from him in the booth. “Who sent you? Why did they send you? And how many more are coming?”
“You don't even wanna know my name?” He pouts. “Ouch.”
Dave lifts a brow. “Answer my questions. If you're good, I’ll let you die quickly.”
The man leans back in the booth, acting like he doesn't know enough about Dave York’s reputation to give him the respect he's owed. New to the game. “Well, my name is Jonah, and since I’ve got a gun pointed at your precious bits under this table, I’ll skip the questions. If that's okay.”
He could have killed Dave the second he walked through the door tonight, but he wants to tell a good story, move up the ranks. It’s childish. Dave kicks out his leg and jolts Jonah’s arm aside just as the man’s instincts kick in and the shot goes off. It rings in Dave’s ears and the sound of the weapon clattering onto the floor, safety still off, echoes in the little diner, but he’s diving across the table and grabbing Jonah by the collar. He jerks the killer’s head forward so it cracks against the porcelain saucer next to his mug. Dave picks up the cup and tosses the contents directly into Jonah’s face. The man howls, the blood from the new gash in his forehead mingling with steaming coffee, but Dave is already kicking the gun toward himself under the table and weighing it in his own hand. 
Dave slides out of the booth and drags Jonah with him, tossing him into a heap on the floor. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” says Dave, aiming the gun between his eyes. “But I guess I will, since you’re clearly new to this. Answer my questions, kid.”
“I’m not answering shi—”
Dave lowers the gun and blows off the man’s left kneecap. The resounding yowl can be heard for miles, no doubt. He frantically grasps for the gory heap of flesh, bone, and blood that soaks through his jeans, seething through his teeth and spattering saliva down his chin. It’s almost pitiful. 
“FUCK!” he screams. “It was fucking Berkeley! Isaiah fucking Berkeley hired me. FUCK!”
Dave isn’t surprised. “Better. That’s one down.”
Jonah lifts his hand as if pleading for mercy, his breaths tedious and his face waxy. “Please, please, I—”
Dave fires a shot straight through his begging hand. The bones shatter and the muscles tear, and the blood is a river down the would-be killer’s wrist. He’s a screaming, growling, cursing heap on the blood-soaked floor. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! Fucking cunt, fucking son of a bitch, you knew too fucking much, man! He wanted to fucking shut you up, and he wanted me to kill your fucking bitch once I was done with you! FUCK!” Jonah cradles his useless hand to his chest and his face rapidly greying, going ashen with terror and agony and blood loss. “And if I couldn’t do it, he said he’d sent the rest of the fucking Brotherhood to take you both down. Fucking… please, let me fucking go, it fucking hurts.”
Berkeley wants him dead. Not surprising. He took a risk approaching Dave to fulfil his contract; he knew he would get the job done, but only if he said yes. And because he didn’t, Berkeley’s got his reputation on the line if Dave decides to blab about the plot to have his wife killed.
He wanted me to kill your fucking bitch once I was done with you.
How interesting. How very fucking curious. 
The third shot tears through the soft flesh of Jonah’s stomach, and he doesn’t even scream this time. He crumples to the floor and stares at the ceiling, every tremulous breath a labour to suck in. 
“You won’t live,” says Dave, cool and detached. “You’ve lost too much blood. Do you want me to kill you, kid, or do you want to lie there in pain a bit longer?”
Jonah shakes his head vaguely. His face is white. His saliva is brilliantly red. “Kill… me. Just fucking kill me.”
Dave ejects the remaining three bullets from the clip and kneels next to the man’s body. He places one bullet in the hole where his knee once was, another in the hole where his limp hand once was, and he digs the final one into the weeping wound in his stomach. “I hope, in your next life,” he whispers to Jonah, “you aren’t as stupid.”
He leaves without firing another shot, but he suspects the life has fled the man’s body by the time the bell above the door chimes to signal Dave’s exit. 
You’re sitting in the car, your hands folded neatly in your lap. They seemed to have stopped trembling. “Dave,” you whisper as he slides into the driver's seat. “You’re covered in blood.”
“It isn’t mine.” He presses the ignition and reverses out of his spot. He allows himself to look at you, and your eyes are already glued to him. “I’m going to take you to my home, sweet girl. Are you okay with that?”
You nod, and his eyes dip to watch the way your throat hollows when you swallow. “Yes,” you say breathlessly. “You killed him. I saw it.”
His eyes capture yours again. They’re two beacons in the dark, glowing neon red under the light of the diner lights. “Does that scare you?”
It should. And he isn’t surprised to see you tilt your head forward in another nod. “But—” Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and Dave has to look away to avoid veering off the road once he merges onto the highway. “But I don’t want to leave you.” It leaves you all in one breath, like your clothes are suffocating you, the closeness of your two bodies in the car, the stifling darkness.
“Why don’t you want to leave me, sweetheart?” It’s a test, and your eyes glimmer with confirmation that yes, you know it is. 
Your hand finds his, your fingers threading through his and resting on the console between you and him. “Because you keep me safe.”
He lifts your joined hands and kisses your soft, unmarred knuckles. It goes unspoken: I always will.
~
“Wow. I didn’t know assassins paid so well. Maybe I should take it up as a side gig.”
He’s absolved himself of the blood on his hands and changed into a new shirt, but he still smells faintly of iron and sweat from the scuffle. Dave watches you spin in a circle on the spot, staring up at the crystal chandelier in his foyer, your eyes dancing like they’re full of stars. “Sweet girl. You told me you refused to step on ants when you were little.”
“Insects and people are different.”
Dave steps up behind you and circles an arm around your waist, his fingers splaying over your rib cage and tugging you back against his chest. “You’re right,” he says into your ear. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes find the phantom bloodstain on your apron in the shape of a perfect handprint, nor the way you shiver. “People would point their guns at you and splatter your pretty brains all over the wall. People would hurt you. That man…” Dave’s lips press against the curve of your neck. You smell so sweet: rich like coffee and a bit salty with sweat. “He would have slit your pretty throat. You see how I couldn’t let that happen, right, baby?”
Your head lolls a bit, resting against Dave’s shoulder. “I know,” you say, clear as sunshine in a stream. 
“I need you to tell me something, my beautiful girl.” Dave uses his hand on your abdomen to turn you in his grasp. You stare unflinchingly into his eyes. “Has your uncle ever hurt you? Has he ever given you any reason to make you believe he would?”
You blink at the change in subject. “He’s never lifted a finger against me,” you tell him. “But he’s… I don’t know, Dave. It started after my parents died. He comes home late some nights, high on something. He’s despondent most days, but he’s never hurt me. He just…”
“Isn’t there.” You nod your head, and Dave is somewhat glad he doesn’t have a reason to take the life of your only remaining relative. “Would you like me to look into it?”
Your lips twist in a tiny smirk. “Like how you’ve looked into me?”
His clever girl. “You like to play,” he murmurs, twisting a lock of your hair around his finger. “That trick with dropping your keys.”
You tilt your head to the side, brows curving up in that oh-so delicious way, and he wants to shove you onto your knees, right here in his fucking foyer. “I’m not tricky,” you say innocently.
“Reading too many books,” he grunts, his breath hot against your jaw when he leans in close and brings his lips next to your ear. 
“Well, when you keep buying me books…” You gasp when he takes your lobe between his teeth.
He huffs into your skin and sucks at the spot beneath your ear. You taste… Fuck, you taste so soft, tangy with sweat, sweet as the syrup you pour. His brain is hazy with how desperately he needs you. 
“Dave,” you gasp, your fingers greedily grasping a handful of his hair to keep him close. “I need… please, I need—”
He cuts you off with a teasing slap to your ass. Your yelp is music to his ears. You just clutch onto him, trying to pull him closer. 
“You don't know what you need, sweet girl. I know what you need. I say what you need,” he says softly, cupping your chin in his palm. “Understand?”
You're honey in his palm, dripping through his fingers, warm. “Yes, Daddy.”
“That’s right.” Dave cradles the back of your head and watches you melt into the touch, your body like a doll’s in his hands and your pupils eclipsing your irises. His cock is a hard and heavy weight in his pants, twitching at the beast that awakens at the use of your nickname. “You need Daddy to fuck you,” he coos. 
He's thrilled and achingly hard, knowing he was right about you, knowing you want him to take the reins away from you and give you what you need. Your eyes are syrupy. “Yeah, I do,” you sigh, pressing your body up against him. 
He takes your hand and leads you up the staircase. Your footsteps are eager as you scurry after him to his bedroom. There's a large mirror next to his king-sized bed, neatly made with neutral greys and crisp white bedsheets. “You need a plant or two,” you point out, but he's pressing his body up against yours and your words diminish to a soft moan. 
“I’ll let you decorate, sweet girl,” he says, gripping your hips and letting you feel the hard line of his cock against your belly. You grind into him, rasping his name. 
Dave chuckles, and you whimper at the way the vibrations rumble through your spine. “So needy.” The stubble on his jaw scratches lightly against your cheek as he continues to kiss his way down your neck, taking his fill of you. “Such a busy girl. Always working, always studying. You must be so tense, under all these clothes…” He nudges his nose against your cheek and reaches around you to tug at the bow that holds your apron in place. “Let me take them off. Hmm?”
“Please,” you whine, letting him manhandle you in front of the mirror and turn you so you’re forced to watch yourself. Dave ducks his head and puts his mouth back on you, drawn to your soft skin and the soft sounds of pleasure he can pull from you. He unties your blood-stained apron in one tug and lifts it over your head, his deft fingers shifting to the zipper that holds up your dress. When he finally finds more of your skin beneath that black fabric, a little impatient in the way he shucks it off your shoulders, Dave eagerly kisses your shoulders, the back of your neck, licking and sucking every new dip and plane he can reach. You tilt your head to give him more access, wherever he wants, moaning his name and begging, begging, “Please, Daddy.”
“Watch yourself,” he says softly, licking up the side of your neck, “in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself. Can you do that for me?”
Your eyes are lidded and your head is being mostly supported by his shoulder, but you keep your eyes on your reflection as he begins to lower himself behind you, taking the dress with him. He’s pressing kisses to each knob of your spine as he exposes you to the cool air, your nipples perking up and your skin erupting with goosebumps. He handles you reverently, on his knees behind you by the time your dress pools around your ankles, his hands reaching up and squeezing your ass. You jump slightly on the spot, and his laugh is rough—like dragging a wet cloth over gravel. “So beautiful,” he says, and it echoes in the cold room. You feel (and watch) two of his fingers slide through your legs until he finds your slit, wet and glistening. He hums, apparently satisfied. “Who did this to you, sweet girl? Who made you so wet and needy?”
You whisper his name, but it’s not good enough for him. Dave bites into the flesh of your left cheek and lands a smack to it at the same time. “You!” you squeal, grateful for the way he holds you, steadies you, before you can fall. You’re so wet it begins to drip down your thighs. “You, Daddy. It’s you.”
“That’s right.” Dave rises to his feet and lifts his two fingers, soaked in your arousal, to your lips. Once you open your mouth, he fixes them against your tongue, forcing your jaw to remain open as you swirl your tongue around his digits. Tasting yourself. His eyes are so dark they’re black in the dim light, and you want to be so good. You want to please him. He’s strong, capable, so gentle with you, and yet you feel yourself cleaving in two under his lightest touch. You’re splitting, wrecked, soft and pliable as velvet in his hands, and this is what you need. You let your mind fade, sinking into the sweet honey of skin and sex and oblivion. 
The man with his body pressed up against yours is a wraith, dealing in death and dark corners and the cool grooves of a bullet—its ever-certain path through the air. He is wrath itself. His hands have squeezed out life and carried it home with him. His hands now caress your body, and you can almost call it worship. 
You twist your heart from your body and place it gingerly in his palm. He will keep it safe. It thrums like a live current through your chest to his. He wraps his murderous fingers around your throat and squeezes gently, forcing your chin to tilt upward. “I want you to get on your knees,” he says, breathing it into your skin as he kisses along your jaw, making the filthy act of it sound so loving, “and I want you to suck my cock.”
Your core is tight with the arousal that soaks your cunt, and you reach behind you to squeeze his length over his pants. Fuck, he’s big. He’s long and thick and you’re dizzy at thought of him splitting you open on it, fucking your throat. “I want to make you feel good, Dave. Please.”
Dave backs away from you and sits on the regal grey velvet upholstery of the chair in the corner. You turn toward him and begin to follow, bared before him, but he leans one elbow on the armrest, still-wet fingers tracing his mouth, the outline of his cock mouthwatering. 
“Don't walk,” he says. “Crawl to me.”
The thrill of the command, clear and uncompromising, sends you to your hands and knees. It should be humiliating, bruising your knees on the hardwood while dripping down your thighs, but the way he’s devouring you with the yawning black of his pupils, thirsty, makes you add a sway to your hips, a prowl to your crawl. When you reach him, you nuzzle your cheek against his thigh, and he tips your chin up with his finger. “My beautiful girl. Take me out. Go on, baby.”
You slide down the zipper of his dress pants and pull his heavy, thick cock from his briefs. It’s weeping precum, twitching in your grasp, and you can’t help but flatten your tongue against the vein on the underside of his shaft. He hisses, “Fuck,” and it’s delicious. He smells like the iron of blood and something wholly him, all man, and your lips meet the tip of his cock in a reverent kiss. He’s being patient, generous in his time with you because he’s finally fucking here: he’s with you, and you’re safe, and you’ve got your lips wrapped gently around the head of his cock. He will not ask you to rush. He will only coax you gently through giving him the pleasure he’s only let himself imagine taking from you.
You let a trail of spit fall from your mouth onto his cock, and it jumps under your teasing touches, the way you lap at him like a kitten at a bowl of milk. You’re so greedy, like he knew you’d be, but he’s so fucking close by the time you tuck your teeth under your lips and slide his cock into your mouth, deep and hot and tight, the girth of him prodding the soft walls of your throat. If you keep this up, he won’t last long enough to do all the things he wants to do with your body.
“Jesus,” groans Dave. His head tips back and his eyes find the ceiling, but that’s not fair, because your eyes are fixed on his. He keeps watching you, the fucking picture of all his fantasies, your pretty eyes wide and smudged with your mascara, your body bare for him. Tears carve paths down your cheeks as you bob your head on his cock, taking him deeper each time, choking and crying. 
Dave’s hand finds the crown of your head and rests there. “Fuck, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re good. You suck cock a lot? Hmm?” His fingers curl in your hair, and you moan around him. “Mine’s the only one you really want, though, isn’t it?” he coos. “Mine’s the only cock you need. You’re my good little slut, sweet girl, on your knees for me.”
Your throat chokes him when you swallow him down, his leaking tip prodding the back of your throat, so fucking eager to please, so good for him even though you’re leaking onto the floor. You love being treated like a slut for him. You love being the one who gets to make his chest heave, his breaths laboured with the effort not to come down your throat. Dave wants to paint your tongue and your face with his cum, but Jesus, he needs to be inside your tight little cunt, and he knows it’s what you need, too. He slips out of your throat, even as you chase his cock with your tongue, and holds you back by the hand that still rests on your head. 
“I wasn’t finished,” you say, and the little whine that pitches up in your used throat makes him drag you up onto his lap and drag his hand between your bodies, his fingers slapping lightly against your clit. You moan, rolling your hips against him, burying your face in his shoulder. 
Dave mocks your pout, yanking your head back so you’ll look him in the eyes. You look positively wrecked, makeup smeared and eyes unfocused with lust. Your cunt leaves a wet patch on his pants. “Poor thing,” he says softly, teasing his fingers through your folds. “You want to come, don’t you?”
“I do,” you say, your throat raspy. “I want to come so badly. Please let me come.”
“Mmm.” Dave acts like he’s pondering it, circling your clit slowly—too slowly—as his mouth explores your throat before he finally makes it back to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting himself in your mouth. He slides two fingers inside your soaked cunt and drinks down your gasp. “That what you wanted?” he breathes into your mouth. “My fingers?”
“Any—nnnngh!” you moan, rocking against his palm as his fingers curl up against a spot inside you that makes your thighs tremble. “Anything you’ll give me, Daddy. Oh, fuck, please, make me come.”
“Such a good girl,” he hums, letting you ride his fingers, licking up the sweat that beads down your neck. “Such a needy whore for me, baby. I want to hear my name when you come.”
“Mmmm, Dave,” you mewl, body keen and wanting against him, your nipples rubbing against the fabric of his dress shirt, grinding into his hand as you near your high. Another smack, this time to the side of your thigh, another soothing touch to the welt forming there, and you’re sobbing his name, coming in a sudden trill of lightning down your spine, freezing you on his hand as your eyes roll back in your head. 
He likes the way you slump against him, your face once again finding solace in his neck, nipping and sucking at him as you quiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He likes you so supple and malleable in his hands as he stands and wraps your legs around his hips, only to deposit you on his bed. “Spread your legs,” he orders. “I want to see the mess you’ve made of yourself.”
His words send new shocks of arousal to your core, and you ease your thighs open for him. You’re fucking soaking. Soaking and ready for him. Too bad he isn’t through with you. Dave briefly tucks his aching cock into his pants and crawls onto the bed, yanking your thighs up around his shoulders and flattening his tongue against your slit. 
Still sensitive from your orgasm, you cry out, pushing gently at his head. “Can’t… Dave…”
“Said you wanted to come, sweet girl.” His hand presses down on your belly as his tongue flicks your clit, and your eyes roll back. “Didn’t say how many times. Be good and let me taste you.”
You can only whimper as he begins to lap up your slick and lavish his attention on your clit, keeping your body flush to the sheets even as you writhe and moan. He's fucking good at this, paying the right amount of attention to your clit and knowing when to pull back when it's overwhelming. He keeps his eyes on you as he eats you out, devouring you the way he likes and making you take it. “Fuck, fuck,” you croak, white sparks snapping behind your eyes. “Daddy, I’m gonna—ah, I’m gonna—!”
He keeps his tongue firm against your clit, wiggling slightly as you soak him, coming hard and fast and without mercy. Dave smacks your thigh again, and you can't tell if he wants to send another surge of pleasure through you or if he just needs to take out the frustration of having not come yet. 
Dave pulls his cock out of his pants again, so hard it looks painful, and manhandles you until you're on your stomach. He slips a pillow under your hips and kneads your ass like he's getting out stress. You moan like a whore when you feel the tip of his cock tapping at your entrance, back arching. Dave covers your body with his and nips your earlobe. “You gonna be good, honey? Gonna let me fuck you the way you need?”
You're so desperate and dazed with lust that you reach back to grasp his cock, take him inside you—
Dave grabs your wrist and, for good measure, your other one too, pinning them at the small of your back. “That… wasn't good,” he says coolly, biting down on your shoulder. “I say what you need.”
You nod your head in absolute submission, your cheek pressed into the mattress. “I’m your good girl,” you tell him. “I’ll be good for you.”
Dave slides his cock through your wetness and notches it inside your entrance. Your moan is breathy and desperate, your cunt clenching around him, trying to suck him in deeper. He wrenches you open slowly, big thick cock splitting you in two, hot and slick and the thick haze of want. “Take me, baby,” he urges, halfway inside you and pushing deeper. “You can take me.”
“I can, I can.” You're nodding, wiggling your hips to take him inside you to the base, wanting all of him filling you, claiming you. Nobody’s ever come close to the way Dave is making you feel, and he knows it. He fucking basks in it like warm sunshine. 
“Look at you,” he grunts, hips meeting the flesh of your ass as he finally sinks in all the way. “So beautiful. All mine.” A short thrust knocks his tip against your cervix, and you cry out with the pain and the pleasure. 
“You're so big, Daddy,” you gasp, short of breath despite doing nothing but lie here.
“Yeah?” He pulls out halfway and thrusts back inside, groaning at the same time you do. “You like my big cock? You like me deep, right in your belly?” His hand slips beneath you and settles at your lower abdomen as he establishes a punishing rhythm. 
You can't breathe. You can't speak. You can't exist like this, ruined and scattered into tiny pieces, your mind floating somewhere above you in the aether. It's glorious and it's agonising and you can't even remember how words taste. 
Dave fucks you. He really fucks you, grinding deep and fast and using your body the way he wants to. You clench around him in your desperate quest to come again, the pleasure all-encompassing, liquid. He drips praise over your body like honey, encouraging your body deeper into that place of blissful nothing. Here, you relinquish control. Here, you feel. He gives you exactly what you need. 
His fingers find your clit and you scream his name. He fucks you like an animal as he lowers his body over your again, biting then tonguing the marks on your shoulder, grunting into your ear. “Dave,” you moan weakly. 
He bites again, like a punishment, his hips angling his cock deeper, somehow, sliding up against your front wall. “Spoiled,” he mutters into your skin. “Spoiled girl, you’ll want my cock all the time now, won't you?” You choke on your groan, and your core tightens as his fingers work your clit. “Who owns this little cunt? Hmm?”
“You,” comes your wrecked moan. “It's yours, Daddy. Oh, fuck, please… Daddy, please, I’m yours… I’m gonna—gonna come!” 
And you do. Christ, you clamp down on his cock, your hips bucking uselessly under him and your eyes squeezing shut as you keep him tucked so deeply inside you with your tightness, milking his cock. It works: Dave pushes your name out of his mouth in a hot breath against your shoulder, hot cum spurting into your needy cunt. You take it the way you take his cock: zealous and whining, his sweet, spoiled thing, your body sucking him in and taking every drop. 
“Dave,” you whisper, tears still streaming down your face. “‘M sorry, I got mascara on your bedsheets.”
Dave chuckles, lifting himself off you even as his body protests, seeking your warmth. “You got a lot of things on my bedsheets, sweet girl. It's okay. Take my hand.”
You turn yourself over and stand with his help, thighs quivering. “Oh,” you gasp, “wow. That was good.”
He presses his lips to your cheek. “Adorable,” he laughs. “Need to clean you up. Get your pretty ass in the shower.”
Your giggle is a little wobbly, a little drunk, but your drunken, beaming face is a reward to him. “Yes, sir.”
Dave smacks your ass as he follows you into the bathroom, watching you steady yourself on the glass doors as you step inside. “I've got class tomorrow,” you grumble. “Gonna have to teach myself how to walk again.”
“I don't know,” muses Dave, purposefully sliding his body up against yours as he reaches into the shower and sends the water streaming down over your head, “I like you like this.”
“Of course you do.” You flip your hair back and get it wet under the water while Dave strips out of his clothes. He steps inside with you and gently swipes a washcloth between your thighs, watching you shudder as he cleans the cum and slick from your thighs. 
You hold onto his forearm and stare, eyes lidded and ringed with smudged makeup, at his strong, scarred body. “You've been through a war zone,” you mutter. 
“A few of them.” Dave wrings out the washcloth and uses the water streaming down your face to wipe away your ruined mascara. You trace a scar on his pec, an old knife wound he barely remembers getting, and your eyes are so full of reverence for his past, his life, that it winds him a little. 
“How’d I get so lucky?” you whisper. 
Dave shakes his head, squirting shampoo onto his palm and lathering it in your hair. He finds he likes this: the quiet mundanity of it, the ease of being close to you, the thrill of being the one who takes care of you. “I’m not the kind of man who walks away from something he wants,” he tells you. 
Your voice is hushed, vulnerable in the wake of all he's done to you. “And you wanted me?”
Dave presses his lips to your forehead. “I still do.”
“They won't stop, will they.” Your fingers finish the job of washing your hair as Dave mirrors your actions, cleansing himself of the blood and grime of the day. “They'll keep trying to… kill you.”
“They will.” There isn't a point in being false. You can take the truth. You deserve it. “That idiot senator wants me dead. He’ll keep sending people after me until he's sure I won't blab to anyone else.”
“Anyone else?” Your throat dips as you swallow down steam and water and the scent of linen. “So he knows… about you and me.”
“He knows that you matter,” says Dave, “and—”
“And that's why he wants me dead, too.”
You're smart. He's known it since the first day. But his vision is a red mist at the thought of some fucking coward putting a target on your back just for knowing him. “He's not going to hurt you,” says Dave, a bit more forcefully than he intended, telling you and himself and the whole world. He softens his voice, smooths it over like icing on cake, kissing you on the mouth for good measure. “He wants me dead because he knows I can fuck his life over in a couple hours. You… you’re…”
You lift your brows knowingly. “Leverage?”
“Good leverage,” he says, his hand resting at the nape of your neck. “If he wants to get to me, you're the best way.”
“I don't like that, Dave.” He wants to eradicate every memory of your frown from his head. “Doesn't it scare you—being hunted like an animal?”
“You know what scares me?” He pulls your body close, your tits pressed up against his chest. His thigh nudges both of yours open. “Someone… some fucking politician… wants to take you away from me. My beautiful, smart girl.” Dave catches the gasp that leaves you when his thigh brushes your sensitive clit and swallows it down with his mouth on yours. “They want to use you. Point their guns at you, the way people do.”
“And insects never do,” you mumble, rolling your hips and sighing at the white-hot pleasure that erupts each time your clit drags along his naked thigh. 
The shower walls are thick with condensation and the closeness of your bodies is immeasurable. Dave crowds you until your back smacks wetly against the cold tile wall, and the hunger in his eyes only makes you feel wanted. His cock is stiffening against your hip, his desire cloying and clotting in your brain. 
“Daddy…”
It’s soft and pitched high, and it gets lost in the relentless pattering of the hot water against his back, the walls, the floor. Dave grabs your thigh and hauls it over his hip, sliding his cock through your folds with no warning, no abandon. You think you say his name again, but he's pushing into you in one hard thrust, cleaving you in two and baring his teeth against your jaw. And nothing matters but this. 
~
You aren't in the diner next week. You aren't at school the next day. Your contact in his phone—something new you both decided to share with one another—yields no new messages. When he calls you, it goes straight to voicemail. He wants to be reasonable. You're sick. Your phone isn't working. No—your phone is brand-new; you just bought it yourself. You were perfectly healthy when you saw him two nights ago, when he made you sit in his lap on his desk chair and fucked you until you were muffling your screams in his neck. He wants to be reasonable, but there's no reason you should be missing. 
So, that night, Dave breaks into your apartment. 
Your car isn't in your parking space: the first alarm bell. The second: your door is unlocked. The place has been left in a haste, the latch bolt sliding harmlessly against the plate as Dave gives the door a shove. It opens without the turn of a knob. He curses when he sees your purse hanging on the hook just inside. 
Dave lifts his flashlight and makes a quick sweep of the room. It’s so small —there’s barely a kitchenette and a single couch, which sits in front of a box-shaped television. He kicks aside a cushion that’s fallen to the floor and investigates the bathroom—he’s horrified to see mould and mildew so blatantly mocking you on the walls—and finds nothing in the bedroom. There’s only one bedroom. Dave opens a drawer and finds men’s boxer briefs, socks, jeans. Nothing of your warm, bright touch linger in this bedroom. What the fuck? 
You sleep on the couch every single night.
Underneath the socks in your uncle Jason’s top drawer, Dave hears a faint rattle. He picks up an amber bottle with a white cap. Blood pressure medication, supposedly. He tosses these aside and searches for more. He needs more. He needs to keep this methodical, or he will explode with anger. 
Dave slides his hand beneath the mattress. A couple more bottles, indicating his forgotten problems are perhaps not quite behind him, and a number of late-notice bills. It’s nothing. It’s fucking useless, useless… 
He wasn’t fast enough. He should never have trusted this man to stay with you. You should be living with Dave. You’ll decorate his home with plants and bright colours and your shampoo will be next to his. His home will smell of you, not just the faint tang of blood that he can’t seem to expel. 
“Fuck!” Dave yanks out Jason’s top drawer and tosses it across the room, somewhat vindicated when it smashes into splinters against the wall. It draws his eye toward the desk in the corner. The little black shape underneath it, tucked underneath the carpet. 
It’s a cell phone. Dave picks it up and finds one message blinking up at him. The battery is almost dead. 
Coordinates. 
Dave fumbles to pull out his own phone and take a picture of the screen. Then, he pockets both devices and leaves. He’s lingered too long already.
~
The coordinates take him next to the Charles River, a shipping dock whose workers seem to have left in a haste. He’s surrounded by large wooden shipping crates, rain-soaked and creaking in the lashing mist that lifts out of the river in the rainstorm that’s begun. Tarps flutter around the crates, not quite pinned down. If you’re crying out for help, there’s little chance to distinguish your voice from the rain and the general din of the city. 
It’s nearing midnight, and Dave’s cell phone begins to buzz in his back pocket. Your face lights up the screen, bright and smiling and posing extravagantly (he took it in the diner, when the two of you were alone, about to exchange phone numbers; “You’ll need a glamour shot,” you said, and Dave was happy to oblige). 
He puts the phone to his ear. “Tell me which crate you’ve put her in, and I’ll make it quick for all of you.”
“I promised I wouldn’t harm her,” says a male voice he doesn’t recognise. Another Brotherhood lackey, he guesses. “She’s being very good for us, Mr. York. Very obedient. Did you break her in for us?”
Dave will not take this bait. “Put her on the phone.”
There’s a faint rustling, and his vision goes blood-red at the sound of your little yelp of pain. “Dave,” comes your trembling voice. “Dave, I’m sorry.”
Dave begins to splash along the rain-slick pavement. Oil runoff stains the water and colours it like a prism. He has a cap on his head and the hood of his jacket is secure atop it. “Shh. None of that, beautiful girl. Are you hurt?” 
“N—no, just… No.” It isn’t a satisfying answer for him, but you’re panicking. “Jason… It was Jason. He took me.”
“Why did he take you, baby?” Dave pushes open a shipping crate and finds nobody inside. 
Your whimper indicates the man is holding you somehow, likely by the hair. “He… please… He told me he would get the money he needed.”
“Your boss offered to pay him, then?” says Dave, directing his attention briefly to her captor as he moves further east along the waterfront. He’s straining his ear for any indication of nearby voices. “In exchange for his niece?”
“More like in exchange for you. I guess he knew she’s the only way you’d come.” The man seems ecstatic with the power of holding onto such a special piece of leverage. “You’ll behave, won’t you, Dave? I know she will.”
“Dave, west! TURN WEST—”
The sound of a hand striking your cheek makes Dave jerk away from the phone and kick his foot through a nearby crate, his heart thundering with the rage that clogs his chest all the way up to his throat. The crate’s door swings open, empty. “If your girl doesn’t shut up, York, I’m going to stuff her mouth with my dick.”
His ears are ringing, the rain spitting and the wind rattling his brain around his head. This man truly believes he’ll get away with taking Dave York’s woman. It’s almost laughable. 
And it’s too late for him. Dave’s already heard your scream from a crate further down the waterfront. 
So the man on the phone can see him. Dave looks up to find a security camera fixed to the scaffolding above him, winking a red eye at him through the mist and rain. He waves, as if to an old friend. “You get off on watching me, huh?” 
“Fun to see you flail around,” says the man, “like a chicken with his head cut off.”
Dave can’t help but grin. “Keep watching.” He stops in his tracks and raises his gun to eye-level. “Sweetheart? You still there?”
“Yeah,” you say softly. “I’m here.”
“Duck,” he commands, and the shot rings out through the rain.
A little hole perforates the wooden crate, and Dave can hear your scream through the phone. He drops his shoulder to force open the door and finds his victim writhing on the floor. The shot struck him in the shoulder, but Dave puts another between his eyes. It’s merciful and too quick for what he’s done to you, but you’re what matters. And here you are, tied by your wrists and ankles to a chair, your hair matted with rainwater and an angry welt on your cheek. You cry out in relief when you see Dave kneel in front of you and cup your face in his palms. “Oh, sweet girl,” he says. “So smart. You did good, baby.”
You don’t cradle your chafed wrists to your chest or shrink away from him when you’re free, the way you should. Your arms wind up around his neck and you nearly knock him over in your rush to embrace him. “Easy,” he mumbles, burying his face in your hair, breathing in your scent mixed with the saltwater mist. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
“I know,” you whisper. “I knew you’d find me.”
He chuckles. “Your uncle didn’t make it easy for me.”
“That man…” You pull away and gesture toward the dead man on the floor. “He was the one who called Jason. Said he’d be cleared of his charges and given a huge lump of cash if he brought me to him.”
He helps you to your feet. You’re shivering like a leaf in your little dress and apron. Dave almost rips his jacket in his haste to secure it around your shoulders. “There’s going to be more,” he says. “A man as paranoid as Berkeley didn’t just send one asshole to kill me. I need you to run, sweet girl. Do you understand me? Run to the car, near the park, and stay away from the streetlights.”
You dip your chin in a nod, but a flick of your eyes over his shoulder has him stiffening. “Dave, get—!”
He’s pulling you to the ground and covering your body with his before the shot fires. When it does, it cuts clean through two walls of the crate, but another follows in its stead. Dave rolls off you, flipping onto his back, and fires at the man just visible behind the door of the crate. The first strikes his leg, which doubles him over. His brain matter falls in chunks to the wet pavement before his body crumples. Dave stands up as you crawl across the floor and dig around your captor’s dead body, producing his gun. “You know how to shoot that thing, baby?”
“Of course not!” you squeak. “Feel a bit better holding it, though.”
He flicks the safety on. “Good. Stay behind me.”
You’re dutiful in the way you follow him outside, the gun useless in your hands but Dave’s gun pointed and ready in his. The crates make it difficult, but his ears are fine-tuned to the noises of footsteps. He hears them from his left and his right simultaneously, firing one shot at the glimpse of a boot and another at a shoulder. The leftward man collapses, clutching his foot, and Dave puts a bullet in his head. The one to his right makes an almost-impressive shot from around the corner that takes out the bulb of a streetlight behind them. But his skull shatters from the impact of Dave’s flashlight striking him in the head, and he collapses. 
You’re stunned by the ease with which he kills. He's meticulous and he's accurate. The muscles in his face are set, determined, a soldier moving before your eyes. He never wavers. He never flinched nor grimaces. You wonder if he would even hear you if you uttered his name. His mission clouds his eyes and wraps cloth around his ears. It's a murderer you watch at work now, a professional one, a wraith whose eyes glimmer like oil slick in the darkness. The gun clutched clumsily in your untrained hands trembles. 
How can such a man handle you so lovingly?
He ushers you inside his car once you wind your way back through the maze of crates, but a shout of your name makes you spin around and lift the gun you have no idea how to handle. It's a cold, dead weight, trapped between your fingers. 
“Jason,” you warn, “don't come any closer.”
“Kiddo, just let me explain.” Jason lifts his hands, indicating he's unarmed. He's standing by your car, wet hair plaster to his forehead, eyes sunken and cheeks gaunt. Behind you, Dave places a hand on your lower back. He isn't lifting his own weapon. He's letting you decide. 
“You can't explain this to me,” you say through your chattering teeth. “You put me there. You traded me for money. I’ve paid everything, I’ve put up with you being high all the time, and I’ve let you sleep in my bed. Because you were family.”
“I wanted to repay you. I wanted to get a fresh start.” He stumbles forward in his haste to reach out to you, and Dave steps in front of you slightly. 
Jason scowls. “And you. Are you fucking her? You know my niece is still in college? You know you're old enough to be her father? You're fucking sick.”
Dave’s nostrils flare. “I saved her fucking life. I'm the one keeping her safe while you run around with your mouth glued to a joint. How many times has she bailed you out, huh?”
Jason lurches forward, deliberately this time, aiming a fist at Dave’s face. Dave grabs his arm before it can wind back and twists it around his back. “Stay fucking still,” he sneers into his ear. Something inside you coils tight like a poised serpent, the very depths of you inexplicably wound for need of something you cannot yet name.
You stare into your uncle’s face. “You’re the sick one. I hope you get your money, because you're leaving. Dave, can we please drop him at the police station?”
~
You can't sit still. 
Dave’s ordered you to sit on the edge of his bed while he cleans up from his massacre by the river. He hasn't let you leave his sight since last night, which means you've missed two days of school and nobody knows where you are. Your phone shattered when he murdered your captor, but Dave lent you a replacement from his desk. Apparently, he owns twelve cell phones. 
“Which one of these do you use to buy drugs?” you asked. 
“Guess you’ll find out.” Dave smirked at you and handed you a brand-new model. “If they ask for York, say I’m dead.”
You told your friends that you'd come down with a deathly case of the flu and they bought it, dutifully sending their notes to you in bulk through your group chat. Since you shut off the phone and placed it next to you on the mattress, you haven't been able to stop from squirming, your thighs rubbing together as the itch you've been fighting for hours clambers down the knobs of your spine. 
“Dave?”
He emerges from the ensuite, still drying his hands on a bath towel, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his face freshly shaven. You know and he knows that he’s been purposefully torturing you, and now all you can do is straighten up, not-so subtly pushing out your breasts toward him. A soft whine leaves your lips at the sight of him standing above you, so strong and deadly. 
He doesn’t speak for a moment, and you wonder if he’s angry with you. You feel his knuckle brush under your chin until it’s directing your gaze, forcing you to look up at him. “Sweet girl,” he says, thumb caressing your cheekbone. “You’re all trouble. Know that?”
You bite your lip, your desire a pounding, beastly thing, clawing up your throat. “I think you should remind me.”
Dave chuckles, his hand leaving your face only to trail downward, finding the top button of his shirt, which is draped over your own body. “Wearing my clothes,” he says, circling the button with his finger until it pops out. His eyes are black, thrilled by the sight of your collarbones, flexing in and out thanks to your fluttering breaths. “Sitting so still and pretty for me…” He clicks his tongue like he’s disappointed in you. “Would you stay sitting here all night if I asked you to?”
“You know I would, Dave,” comes your shuddering sigh. 
“You’d be safe that way,” he muses. Another button comes undone, and the soft skin between your breasts tempts him closer until he’s standing between your thighs. His fingers trace your hard nipples, visible through his dress shirt. “Such a dangerous girl, going missing on me. Do you know how much you scared me?” You go to dip your head in apology, but he grasps a chunk of your hair and pulls it back. “I asked you a question, baby. Answer it.”
“I never meant to scare you,” you tell him, still seeking his touch as you push your tits against his fingers. “I was so scared… thought he would try to…”
Dave shushes you. “I know, sweetheart, I know. Do you know what I would have done to him if he did?”
You shake your head. “Tell me.”
His hand leaves your hair and winds around your throat, his thumb and index finger pressing at your pulse. “I would have cut off his dick. I would have made him watch me do it. I would take off each. Fucking. Finger.” Dave’s other hand, done fondling your tits, ghosts along your arm until it finds your hand, which he lifts to the hard outline of his bulge. “I’d make sure you never remember him touching you.” The hand on your throat squeezes, and your core floods with arousal, another whine slipping out. Dave tips his chin toward you. “You trust me to keep you safe from men like him. Don't you?”
Frantically, you breathe out a yes, your brows curving up in the middle in the delicious way he loves so much. He enjoys the delicate curve of your body against him as it seeks his. Your tits are smushed against his abdomen, your face so close your chin nearly brushes his sternum. You're warm and so soft. Dave is nearly doubled over with the affection you show him and the affection he craves to show you. But he knows what you need—to be shown that you're safe in his arms. 
You gently squeeze his length over his pants and Dave hisses, prying your wrist away and pressing your hand to your own breast. “If you’re going to tease,” he says, “tease yourself. Go on, sweet girl. Touch your pretty tits.”
You roll your head back on your shoulders as you squeeze your tits over the fabric of his shirt, pinching your nipples and puffing out soft moans of his name. Dave’s cock twitches in his pants, and he pulls it out swiftly, hard and heavy against his stomach, jerking himself slowly while he watches you. 
“So beautiful. Does it feel good?” Your eyes are fixed on his hand working his cock, another needy moan slipping past your lips. “Would you rather be the one touching me, baby? Is that what you need?”
Your tongue darts out to lick up his slit when he squeezes the base of his cock, and Dave grunts, hips lurching forward, momentarily losing control. You eagerly take the tip between your lips, but he pulls away and slaps his cock on your tongue. “Such a bad girl, not listening. Lie back.”
Your eyes are black holes, and Dave presses his palm on your sternum to guide you onto your back when you can’t seem to think through your haze of lust. He drops to his knees and shucks your panties off your legs so roughly they tear, dangling off your ankle. It only fans the flames licking at your core, and he can see the glistening wetness of your cunt, begging to be touched. “If I ask you a question,” says Dave, blowing on your cunt and making your stomach clench, making your moan pitch high, “I expect you to answer me. I know you want me, sweet girl, but you should learn to listen to me. Hmm?”
He yanks your thigh over his shoulder and parts your folds with two fingers. “I’m… oh, I’m sorry, Daddy. Please… please let me feel you. I want to feel you. I’ll be good. I’ll be—fuck!”
You squeal when he licks up your tempting slit, groaning at the taste of your sweet tang, mingled with the scent of body wash and linen and something ineffably you. “And if I want to taste you,” he says, pressing sloppy kisses to your cunt, gripping your thighs so tightly his fingers will leave bruises, “I expect you to lie down and spread your legs for me.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you gasp at the white-hot pleasure from his warm tongue lavishing attention through your folds. “Yes, Daddy, anything you want, anytime. I’ll do anything—ohhh, fuck, Daddy, please…”
A hand presses firmly against your belly to keep you grounded as he tastes his fill of you the way he wants. This is your punishment, you realise: being at his mercy, spread out like a meal for him, disregarding your pleasure and just feasting on you at his own pace. Always at his own pace. You want to curl your fingers in his hair and keep his face in your pussy, but the idea that he’s between your legs because he wants to just taste you is so delectable that you lift your arms above your head, wrists together, and refrain from urging him anywhere. He’s in charge. He wants to remind you. As if you need reminding.
Dave notices. He sees the curve of your back, your tits straining out of his shirt, your body stretched out for him like a lounging cat. He pulls away from your cunt and bites down on the flesh of your inner thigh. You yelp, the muscles in your legs flexing around his head. “You like this,” he hums, flattening his tongue against your clit. You moan long and low. “Yeah, you do. My good little slut, letting me do what I want with your body.”
“Mmmmoh!” He nips your clit and it makes you tremble, your orgasm clawing at you despite his negligence. “I’m your slut, I’m just a whore for you, your good little whore. Feels so good.”
He and his cock love your babbling. It twitches against his stomach as he laps at you, a cat at his bowl of milk, drinking you down on his tongue. Your moans grow closer together, more frequent, and he knows you’re about to come. So he pulls away from your soaking pussy. 
Your hips chase him until your mind catches up, realising he hasn’t given you your orgasm. It isn’t surprising, but it still makes you pout. “Oh, my poor girl,” says Dave, mocking your expression, crawling up onto the bed and over your body, taking your lower lip between his teeth. You try to kiss him, desperate to be touched, but he pulls away again. “You wanted to come, didn’t you?”
“Only…” You swallow thickly, the desire evident in your eyes. “Only if you want me to.”
Dave grins, his fingers sliding down to your clit and slapping it lightly. “So good for me,” he says, ducking his head again and slanting his mouth over yours. You sigh into him. “I can do whatever I want with this pussy. Tell me.”
“You can do whatever you want with my pussy,” you say between inhaling lungfuls of air as he relentlessly devours your mouth. “I’m yours, it’s yours.”
You look so beautiful spread out beneath him, steadfast in putting your trust in him even as he tore an orgasm away from you, that Dave can’t bear to withhold any longer. He guides his cock to your entrance and slides inside you without warning. You gasp, your eyes unwavering from his. 
It’s intimate like this, and he’s surprised by how much it chokes him. You’re looking at one another as he establishes a deep, grinding rhythm inside you, your legs wrapping around his waist and his mouth connecting with yours in long, sloppy kisses that leave you both breathless. Dave holds you reverently, the way a follower carries offerings to the altar, his hand around your waist and bowing your back to deepen the angle. His other hand, balanced with his elbow, cradles your head as he keeps his mouth close to yours and refuses to let you look away. 
He knows you’re getting close, and he is, too. He takes the opportunity to explore your body, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and sliding his hand up your ribs, tracing them with fascination for the way you breathe. He feels your rapid pulse under his fingers, circles your nipples with his rough fingers, and basks in the curves of your perfect, smooth body beneath him. You’re perfect. You’re everything he’s been waiting for, his sweet, clever girl. 
“You’re mine,” he says, whisper-quiet, his hips sliding against yours, deliciously slow and rubbing up on your clit in just the right way. He won’t deny you this time. 
“I’m yours,” you say, your nose nudging against his. He grins. Happy.
You come just before he does, your entire body tightening and quivering, your cunt squeezing him, ironclad around his cock. Your brows lift in pleasure and your eyes droop, your lips parting just enough for a small gasp to escape. He huffs into your hair when he comes, spilling his hot cum deep into you and bucking his hips flush to keep it snug inside. 
His body is a canopy over yours, and he finds he doesn’t want to move. You smooth his hair back, your touch so gentle and calming to his erratic heartbeat that he lets out a chest-deep sound that sounds like a purr. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper to him, and there’s so much more awe in your voice than he deserves. 
He lifts his chin to capture your mouth. His heart is swelling up into his throat. “Stay with me,” he says. 
It’s not an order and it isn’t jagged-edged. It’s him asking, pleading. It’s him opening his palm and offering a key to you. It’s soft as the brush of sunlight over your skin in the earliest hours. “I’ll stay with you,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his. “You need some touches of colour in this place.”
Dave chuckles, rolling you over until you’re lying on top of him. You’re all the colour he gives a fuck about.
~
There’s a skip in your step as you walk to his car and slide inside. Dave traps your jaw between his thumb and forefinger and pulls you toward him for a kiss before you can even tug on your seat belt. “Hi, baby.” He grins into your mouth. “How was class?”
“You know, it’s funny,” you muse, checking your reflection in the visor. “Everyone was talking about it. Apparently, Senator Berkeley was found in his home with a gunshot wound to his head. They said it was suicide.”
Dave makes a noncommittal noise. “Shame. He must’ve been caught up in something he couldn’t deal with.”
You shrug, getting situated as Dave pulls out of the parking lot. “I started reading the book you got me.”
He places his hand, palm-up, on the centre console, and you take the invitation to thread your fingers through his. “You like it?” he asks. 
You lift your joined hands to your cheek and rest it there. “I’ll tell you about it on the way home.”
THE END.
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111gloomtime · 4 months
Text
nervous
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⭐️ : angst, fluff, matt x reader (CHRIS FIC COMING SOON I SWEAR)
cw : some swearing
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the triplets and i have been in boston for the past couple days, which is where we grew up. right now we’re all in the living room and watching a movie.
originally i became friends with nick, and then he introduced me to matt and chris and we all immediately clicked. but, matt has always been quiet. it’s almost like he tries to avoid me. to be honest, i’ve been avoiding him too. whenever i’m around him i just get so nervous.. i don’t know why. i have definitely always thought he was very attractive, but i haven told a soul. plus, i like the way things are, us just avoiding each other.
“i’m gonna go outside for a minute.” says matt. nick and chris’s just look at him and nod.
we’re in the middle of a movie.. why would he be going outside?
i decide to just ignore it and keep watching the movie. i try and stay focused on the movie, occasionally laughing at something funny. but i can’t get matt out of my head for some reason. i had to see what he was doing.
“i’m going to the bathroom real quick.. be right back!” i say, getting up to go to the bathroom. i check behind me to make sure they’re not looking, and go the other way out the back door. i walk around the house looking for matt, but i don’t see him. i peer around the back porch and see him on a bench. i hesitate before walking up to him, not wanting to seem like a creep. he has a notebook in his hand and seems to be writing something.
quietly, i walk up to him. i stop behind the bench and look over his shoulder.
“watcha writing there?” i say in a childish tone. he jumps.
“what the hell are you doing out here..” he says, annoyed. i’m starting to regret coming out here. it’s been 30 seconds and i’ve already pissed him off.
“i just wanted to see what you were doing, i didn’t mean to scare you.. sorry.” i say, looking down at my feet. he’s silent for a moment, but i can feel him staring at me. he lets out a sigh.
“it’s fine. here, come sit.” he says as he pats the space next to him on the bench. i walk around to the other side and sit. i accidentally sit a bit close to him, we both look at the small empty space between us. neither of us move.
for a few minutes we both just look at the stars. occasionally i feel him glancing over at me, which makes my cheeks grow hot. i desperately want to ask him so many questions. for some reason, right now i want to know everything about him. i want to understand his thoughts, i want to know why he’s so quiet. i decide the silence is too much for me to handle and i say the first thing that comes to mind.
“matt, can i ask you a question?” i say.
“depends. what’s the question?” he says, looking at me.
i pause before answering.
“why have you been avoiding me all these years?” i say quietly. his eyebrows raise and he looks back out at the sky.
“do you want me to be honest?” he says. i nod.
“i.. i get really nervous around you. i don’t know why. but the tension is just too much for me to handle, so i just avoid you.”
wow. i was not expecting that answer from him. hes always seemed like a really closed off person, so for him to say that to me was shocking. i feel my heart racing.
“me too.” i say, almost whispering. still having his head down, he looks up at me.
“do you come out here a lot?” i say to him.
“yeah. i find the dark night sky really comforting, which may sound corny.” he chuckles. “ it helps me get my mind off things.”
“what kinds of things?” i ask him.
he pauses for a minute and starts fiddling with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
“you.” he says softly. i don’t know what to say, so i just keep looking at the night sky. i swallow hard, feeling my skin getting warm.
neither of us say anything for a minute. i feel matt touch my hand as it rests on the seat, attempting to hold it. i don’t reject it. his warm hand feels good on this cold night. i scootch closer to him and rest my head on his shoulder, and he puts his head on mine.
“matt?”
“yeah?”
“can we please just stay here for awhile?”
he responds by simply holding my hand tighter.
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erm guys sorry this is short but i promise a nick or chris fic is coming very soon!!!!!
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comradekatara · 5 months
Note
What are the ATLA ppl's fav pseudoscience?
okay so this is a really funny question because obviously many of the atla characters do already strongly believe in things that we would classify as pseudoscience, but also because they live in an entirely different cosmology, some of what we label pseudoscience (see: ty lee's whole deal) is in fact plausible within the world they inhabit. and there are also degrees of plausibility. we see phrenology practiced (by professor zei in "the desert") but we as the audience are expected to be critical of the practice (at least... i hope!), or while katara buys into fortunetelling wholeheartedly, sokka's skepticism is also given credence. and then the concept of qi is like. integral to the fabric of the show. so i'm instead going to frame this as "their favorite pseudoscience within my modern au" because otherwise it would simply get far too confusing.
aang would probably be into cryptozoology. i don't really have much to say here, i think he'd just believe in nessie and sasquatch and mothman because why not. makes the world more magical, yknow?
katara obviously buys into astrology and palm reading and stuff of that ilk. but it's not just a fun little game for her, like she does genuinely believe it's 100% real. and she has gotten into some really terrible fights with sokka over this. (almost as bad, in fact, as their blowout fight over whether or not pluto ought to be reclassified as a planet, wherein katara was so deeply offended by sokka's claim that "the classification of pluto is not a social justice issue, except for perhaps in the sense that you sound like a conservative right now" that she dramatically declared that she was disowning him as her brother.)
sokka's role is basically to personify/embody the scientific method so him believing in pseudoscience is antithetical to his mo. that said, i guess you could say he believed in gendered bioessentialism, but even then he changes his mind the second he is presented with data that disconfirms his paradigm, so it's more honest to state that he wouldn't really "believe in" anything since that's not how he approaches the world in the first place.
toph tries acupuncture with aang in "nightmares and daydreams," and also is a walking polygraph, so let's just go with that.
suki's a dyke so she knows the basics of her birth chart just by nature of being in those circles, but she also knows better than to mention that around sokka, because she fears that he would dump her on the spot if she admitted to knowing that she's a "taurus moon."
zuko becomes convinced over the course of his life that iroh knows everything there is to know about everything, all because of that one time iroh said "maybe you shouldn't live with your father?" and zuko was like "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!!!' and ever since he has regretted that argument so much that he has fully bought into tcm, but also doesn't really understand it himself, so he kind of just blathers on about "hot versus cold foods" or whatever, but in a way that it's clear that he's just putting words together in a poor man's facsimile of his uncle.
mai likes to fuck with people by claiming that she genuinely believes in humor theory. she'll be like "my, doesn't someone possess an excess of black bile today?" and revel in alienating everyone around her. i mean, she doesn't actually believe in it, but by the parameters of your question, it is nonetheless her favorite pseudoscience.
despite what you might be expecting me to say, ty lee's favorite pseudoscience is actually psychology.
and azula's favorite pseudoscience is eugenics, obviously. she can't get enough of the stuff.
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milomi · 1 year
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Reader gets angry during an argument with Crowley and starts swearing in their native language
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People my age swear. People at school swear. People swear. My people swear.
It's been rubbing off on me and for every time I stub my toe on the side of the table and say "fudge! Shoot! Crap! Darn it! " there is a 20% chance I'll instead say **** in my language
but i dont like swearing but also it's... kinda, cool
Also these may be veryyy OOC because it is my first time writing a post with them like this 👉👈
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Riddle
Letting your emotions take hold of you can make you act in a way you'll regret later. -Overblot flashbacks-
However. Once he realizes/is informed of what you've been saying, his eyes widen.
Being angry and/or frustrated does not mean you are allowed to use such vulgar language!
says the guy who nearly beheads people
Definitely scolds you for it. But afterwards, he invites you for some tea to try and calm you down.
Trey
Can't tell what words you're saying or language you're speaking, but you certainly look pissed.
As soon as he realizes that the words you're saying aren't just any type of words in your language, but particularly swear words, he waltzes in to try and stop you.
Stands in the middle of you and Crowley (not a good decision) and tries to calm down the Prefect who's throwing more bleeps by the second
Trey tries, tries to bake something with you to take your mind of things. He says he wouldn't mind hearing more of your native language, in a different setting, that is. Don't swear kids
Cater
Starts recording. He hypes you up even if he isn't entirely sure what your words mean.
Adds some heart emojis on the video and like, idk:
" Look at our little prefect go (off)! 😍🔥 #stanTheprefect #cantunderstandawordtheyresaying #stillsupportivetho! 🤪👍 "
" Bestiee, what did you say? Spill the tea, please~ "
" I cussed. "
" O. Well it didn't sound all that aggressive with you saying it. "
Ace
Hell. Yeah.
He may not understand what you're saying. But he can tell you're real angry. And that means shit's 'bout to go down.
He was right.
Kinda laughs, some of your words sound a bit silly, ya know?
He's never heard someone sound so pretty when cussing out their headmaster.
Man has fucking heart eyes 💀 while you continue to spout some very colorful words, he admires you and sighs lovingly
Deuce
Heck. No.
Hey may not understand what you're saying, but by the looks of your furious red face, that'd put Riddle's to shame, he can tell it's no good.
The art of cussing is universal
Will come up to you and try to stop you.
Man is strong, he will hold you back if needed.
Look he's just worried, okay? You can't just- show the middle finger to your headmaster, verbally, thinking no one will notice.
Leona
He lazily opens one eye, thinking whatever type of fiasco could've interrupted his nap.
The Prefect is dropping an f-bomb (in their native language) at the Headmage
Suddenly he's not sleeping.
Man he's gotta see this. This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity.
Doesn't say anything to you but low key grins the next time he sees you. You've just earned yourself some more respect from him.
I mean, what you did sorta counts as standing up for yourself. ..Not in the best way, sure, but still
Ruggie
??? he is confused
Before it all clicks
o h
Fu-hell yeah, bring in the popcorn, this is gonna be fun, shi shi shi ~
Compliments you on your dictionary of words.
Does he know what you were saying? No, but is it important? All he needs to know is that your language has some nice words in it
Jack
No
Why do you all always get yourselves in trouble? This, this is why. If it's not Ace and Deuce or Grim breaking something and just in general being up to no good. Then it's you using profanity in your language.
Just because it's your mother language, which supposedly no one else / most people don't speak, doesn't make it any more okay!
It's still bad.
Tells you to not do it again.
Feel free to say random things in your language to him, just not, that
Azul
Oh, my.
Is shocked.
He didn't expect you of all people to start cussing all of a sudden??
Sure, you may have had your reasons for it, but still????
It's a questionable experience which leaves him sorta avoiding you till the end of the day.
Then he's back again normal tomorrow trying to get you to sign a contract with him, as if nothing happened.
He just won't address your outburst of emotion
Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss
Jade
Well isn't that strange and unusual.
The normally happy-go-lucky Prefect knows some choice words and decided to use them on our dear, poor Headmage.
Fascinating
can the octavinelle trio use this as blackmail? no
will they anyway? yea
Floyd
lol
Laughs
He's just here for the drama
Picks up on one word. One. Singular particular word and will not stop saying it.
Do not tell him what it means, because he will use it even more often.
But doesn't use it on you ofc <3 little shrimpy, after all, is the one who gifted him with this knowledge
He sure is looking forward to more of your outbursts and learning experiences of fucks and shits in different languages
Kalim
. Huh
Can't tell what you're saying, yet, but you sure do look distressed! Before he gets the chance to discover what you're saying, someone else does it before him and covers his ears.
(That someone being Jamil of course
Kalim understands you must've felt really distressed to have used that type of language and so he later invites you to chillax at Scarabia's dorm.
Jamil
sighs deeply
It doesn't take a genius to discover that a furious teenager shouting words in a different language at a person they've been annoyed by, is most likely swearing.
Covers Kalim's ears, as stated previously.
The last thing he'd need is one for those words getting stuck in Kalim's brain and him repeating it over / look at Floyd's case
One time, one day however, he finds himself in a situation where he very accidentally uses one of the words you said. He didn't even think he'd remember it. Then his brain lags
Vil
Oh noo
You are- why. Why would you do that.
Yes, he could tell you were swearing, anyone with a brain could tell that, potato.
And, no, he does not need nor would he want to know what words came out of your mouth.
If you were in his dorm he'd tell you to wash your mouth with soap. But you're not. But he will tell you to wash your mouth.
Honestly, the next time you're feeling so stressed, maybe come to him instead? He has some face masks and other things that would help make you feel better.
Anger harms beauty, or something, this sounds better in my language
Rook
qu'elle
Alternatively~
que diable
Nono he wouldn't say that, non.
And neither should you, chére Prefect!
For such crude words to come out of your mouth, oh it is so cruelle!
Can and will hold you back down to make you stop, while also whispering thingies in French to make you calm.
Epel
Oh. Oh!
Fuck yeah!
He is cheering for you until Vil catches him doing so and glares at Epel.
He is still cheering but in spirit. As if the huge apparent grin on his face wasn't telling enough.
Afterwards, he says you looked cool badass and asks if you can teach him a few of those oh so nice words.
Let's hope Vil doesn't catch you or Epel saying anything of that sort ever, again.
Idia
Well he wasn't there, buuut he may have seen this situation from some camera footage.
Whaat, it was an important moment. Plus, you looked pretty cool in that situation!
Idia pulls up a translator and once he understands what you were saying, he spits out whatever candy he was gobbling down like popcorn.
Almost chokes.
Holy.. Can't believe you had the balls to do that.. That's awesome. Reckless. But awesome...
Ortho
You cover his ears.
Malleus
Ch-child of man?? Calm down??
He doesn't understand what you're saying to a T, but, he is able to comprehend some of what you said.
Isn't sure whether Crowley knows what you're saying, so he takes you and storms away.
Tells you to be careful with throwing around words like that. Also expresses his interest in your mother language.
But now you will have to suffer consequences for your reckless actions, get ready for 2 or more hours of Gargoyle knowledge!
Lilia
Oh? You don't say? Uh-huh... Interesting
What. Did you really think you were the only person on campus who could speak this beautiful language? No.
he fuckj, flipping joins in as if it were a normal conversation.
Crowley leaves at this point, kinda scared to even ask
But Lilia tells you to not be so reckless with your language. Next time, swear under your breath, so that it won't bring anyone's attention and-
Silver
I think he was sleeping
* laugh track *
Or trying to fall asleep. When your choice words had woken him up.
He heard Lilia use that language a couple of times, so he was able to pick up on some of the nicer words you said. None of the blasphemy made its way into his ear.
Although wait, maybe he had heard a few of those word when fa-Lilia was playing some games
Sebek
???
he's not really sure what you're saying, but_
N O T IN THE PRESENCE OF THE GREAT MALLEUS DRACONIA
He's actually more angry than Crowley, holy sh-.
Will not want to hear you ever speak that language again. Thank you.
... Okay that was harsh. Maybe he will like to hear it one day. BUT WITHOUT THE BLASPHEMY, OKAY??
Bonus!
Grim
Ya he's used to that
No, doesn't know what yer sayin', but he has his suspicions
If the boys pay him via Tuna Cans he will translate -to the best of abilities- what you said.
Better pay up! Less you wanna miss out on the hot gossip and drama 'bout our not so innocent Prefect!
Crowley
He doesn't understand what you're saying
? can you not ?
He was kind of in the middle of something, now he's in the middle of your toddler tantrum
He knows
inhale
" YOUNG CHILD, HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY I WILL LET YOU KNOW [proceeds to speak the rest of the lecture in your language] "
You are fucked
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satrs · 9 months
Note
hi lec, how are you? ^^ i hope everything treats you well. can i request bllk characters reacting to reader's pre-menstrual mood (sad, sensitive, depressed to an extent but do it however you want!) the specific scenario would be the reader being sad, short tempered & stuff just to have period few days later. also if i could request the characters, may i request for shidou and nagi?
i love your take on sfw bllk stuff and the way your story tell, it's just so real & i'm IMMERSED in everything you wrote. you have a knack for sfw slice of life genre & i hope you would consider my request! fank yewwww ily
ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎ HEY NONNIE I'm doing fine tysm!!! I hope you do too^^ I'm thankful for the request and very grateful how you feel about my work. It really means the world to me and makes my motivation shoot up! I decided to add two more characters, I hope that's alrightttt and I hope I'm fulfilling your expectations!
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*+:。.。 𝐀𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 。.。:+*
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ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; Nagi Seishiro. Shidou Ryusei. Itoshi Rin. Barou Shoei. ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 1.0k
TAGS; fluff. mentions of period/cramps. hurt to comfort(kinda?).
ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+(proplayers)!
NAGI SEISHIRO.
"Not right now Sei'." He was visibly displeased, showcasing it by a pout that adored his face, dropping the second controller in his hand onto the bed. "C'monnn, we always play this together."
You were not in the mood for any games, not if those pre-period cramps were almost killing you right now. Plus, the pill and the heat pad did a terrible job at soothing the pain.
His continuous pleas only imitated you further, causing you to blow his top. "I said not now. What the fuck can't you understand about that, huh?" He was surprised by your outburst, the room falling silent and the only thing that could be heard was the gaming sounds from the TV and your ragged breathing.
You immediately regretted your harsh words, an apologetic look washing over your face as you saw your boyfriend's startled expression. "I'm so sorry, I'm just- I don't exactly feel well right now."
He didn't say a word, turning off the television before putting the gaming controllers away, crawling up to you on your side of the bed and cuddling up to your side. It's probably that time of the month again. Poor you, he couldn't imagine being in your shoes.
"I figured. We can just stay in bed and cuddle if you want to." You softly nodded, turning to your side to put your arms around him, snuggling into his chest. "I'm tired anyway."
A weak chuckle escaped your lips, body moving at the action. "Of course you are."
SHIDOU RYUSEI.
"Babyyy" He giggled after entering your house, loudly announcing his presence. "Guess what I got!" He stood before you in the living room, holding out a bag of what seemed to be food out to your face, unable to recognize your frown.
"Why do you always have to be so damn loud, Ryusei?" His giggling came to an end, a confused look on his face as the bag fell to his side, head tilting as he looked at you. Why are you mad? Did he do something wrong?
He decided to ignore your bickering, bright smile adoring his features as he opened the bag on the coffee table. "Got your favourite shake. See? The biggest size!" He lightly shook the shake in his hand, showing it off to your unimpressed form. "Oh really? The biggest size? So you're telling me I'm drinking too much of 'my favourite shake'? Is that it?"
He pouted as you mocked him, your voice laced in annoyance. A frustrated sigh left his lips as he crouched down before you, a serious look on his face and his hands on either side of your thighs. "Tell me what's wrong, Y/N. Is it me or does something bother you?"
His warm and comforting voice made your frown disappear, a regretful look on your face as you explained to him the reason for your displeased mood. He nodded in understatement, sitting down next to you and packing out the rest of the bag, taking the shake and holding it up to your lips.
"No problem. I'll pamper you the whole day, yeah? Now take the shake, I know how much you love it."
ITOSHI RIN.
"Why won't you talk to me, Y/N? What's-" Your boyfriend stood before your doorstep, silencing himself at the sight of your form - disheveled hair and dressed in long and baggy clothes, eyes swollen and some tears still visible on your lash line.
He stepped in, swiftly shutting the door behind him as he kicked off his shoes, rushing you to the couch to let you rest. "What happened?" Tears welled up at your lash line again, threatening to fall. "Everything happened. Everything is just one big mess, and I can't do anything about it. Everything I tried to do today didn't work out at all." Wait. This feels like some kind of Déjà vu.
"Did you eat already?" He sprung up to his feet when you shook your head no, headding off to the kitchen. "Let me grab you something." And he did, grabing some of the leftovers from yesterday and warming them up, taking out his phone and opening the app that showcasted your menstrual calendar, your next period was mere days away. "Oh."
"Thank Rin." Your weak smile pulled at his heartstrings. He hated seeing you so sad and frustrated. Being by your side would be the only right thing to do now. "Always. You need anything else?" You took a bite out of the food, shacking your head food as you munched it, swallowing it right after. "No, just you."
He chuckled lightly at that, scooting closer to you and sneaking his arm around your waist, planting a kiss to your temple. "I'm here."
BAROU SHOEI.
"Your room is a complete mess. What have you been doing all day? Laze around?" Your head was booming as your boyfriend came into your room, bending down to clean after your mess. You've not been feeling well today, not in the mood to get out of bed or do anything at all. He was right, and it made you mad.
"And what if I did? Don't act like you're my mom and stop cleaning my stuff. I'm alright with doing it by myself." You plopped back into bed, hiding yourself under the covers. He sighed at your child-like act, walking up to you and taking a seat at the edge of the bed, hand caressing you. "I'm not your mom, but your boyfriend. And I care about you so I can't just leave you like that. What's wrong?"
He clicked his tongue when you didn't respond, slightly shacking your form. "Y/N. Talk to me." You groaned in frustration, kicking off the covers and looking at him, frowning.
"My period is up okay?! You should know this." It was his turn to frown, flashing you a confused look. "How would I know? You're always a sloth." He chuckled as you hit him with your pillow in a playful manner, taking it from you. "Alright, let me clean up and then we'll go, get ready and grab some Thai. How's that sound?"
You sat up, stretching yourself as you made your way to the bathroom to get cleaned up, stomach growling at the thought of some delicious food. "Good."
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ᵃˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ k-azus.°
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florart98 · 3 months
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Jackson Lamb in season three.
I just finished my rewatch of the third season for a fanfic I'm thinking about. And I can't stop thinking about Lamb and his whole reaction to Standish's kidnapping.
Lamb is the first to realize that Standish didn't show up for work, and he quickly understands that this means something bad happened, because she never arrives late without warning, nor does her cell phone run out of battery, nor does she take the tube to come. He is worried, even angry at River for not following Donovan when he bumped into him the previous afternoon. (Although it is normal for him to get angry with River, in this case it is more exaggerated than normal, how would River know that they wanted to kidnap Catherine)
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Throughout the season Lamb is violent about getting Catherine back, from the first moment when River doesn't dare to tell him that he saw Donovan before and Lamb says:
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Or when Louisa calls him to tell him that everything indicates that Catherine was kidnapped, she asks why anyone would do that, and Lamb responds:
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And when they release River, he asks him what you would have done if you got this photo and he says:
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There's a great moment where he and Chapman are in the laundromat, Chapman offers him a drink and Lamb declines.
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Chapman's face when he tell him that they took Standish seems perfect to me, because he knows Lamb, he knows how he defends his people, and, of all his people, they took Catherine. This is big. Catherine is not just anyone.
Then, when he discovers that Catherine is not in real danger, he is visibly calmer, at least for a few minutes, until he discovers that the Tiger Team has revealed itself and now Catherine really is a hostage.
We have that great moment where he gets into Sly's car and then into Judd's lunch. He is so angry that he talks to more and more powerful people until someone brings Standish back to him. But that doesn't happen and he has to go look for her himself. Thanks to the help of Standish herself, who pointed to the wall in her kidnapped photo, Roddy is able to discover where they are keeping her locked up.
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So Lamb spends all day doing everything he can to get to Standish back. And he himself is going to rescue her
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And he arrives and she's sitting there playing scrabble. After he home-aloneing the house and getting out of there, comes the big fight and the big reveal.
When they are in the car with Standish, just before the fight at the gas station starts, she talks to Roddy and tells him that she knows how to read people and Lamb makes fun of her. (referring to how he has no idea what Charles did)
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When they park at the station, Lamb is upset, not angry, he's not yelling like he usually does, but instead he's silent, which is why she says he never wants to talk about anything.
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I think Lamb is upset because he spent all day trying to find her but when he gets there she only talks about Charles. And I understand that he hates Charles, the man betrayed them and because of him his companions died. But you have to understand that Catherine doesn't know anything about that, in her eyes he is the perfect man who extended a hand to her when everyone abandoned her.
Catherine has no idea that Charles was worse than Ingrid or Diana, for her he was an honorable man, and Lamb hates that, he hates that she has him on a pedestal, so, knowing that he is going to hurt her, he tells her the truth that he had been hiding from her for years. And not only does he tell her that Charles betrayed them all, but he also used her.
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Also, it really bothers him that she says Charles was an honorable man, because he wasn't. And Lamb may be many things but he truly has honor, he will never betray his people, and he would do whatever is necessary to save them.
So, in my opinion, Lamb didn't think about it, not really, he was tired, he was angry with Charles's betrayal and with Standish for admiring him so much, that he needed to break that illusion in her. I think at the end of the day he regrets doing it. He really does, as he tells Judd, Standish runs my diary, now I don't know what he'll do without her. He did everything to find her and when he finds her, he loses her.
Special mention for Marcus saying what we all think:
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jostystyles · 2 years
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enemies to lovers hc's | rf
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a/n: im not sorry for this. these came straight from the gc with @lt-natrace and @rhettabbotts and bc im too lazy to write a fic, here's some headcanons we came up with during this mornings brain rot <3 also reader's callsign is yankee bc im self projecting and from ny. i also got really carried away and this is so long i’m sorry. thank u to @mayhem24-7forever and @topguncortez for beta-ing this too!
~ no one understands how you could possibly hate bob. its bob. he's a total sweetheart, the quiet one. but not to you.
~ to you, he's snarky, and there's just something about him that gets under your skin.
~ you're no picnic to him either. he tried to befriend you, a fellow WSO, from the start. but he was met with a blank stare and a scowl. two can play at this game, he thought.
~ it all started one of the very first nights at The Hard Deck. already unamused with the pissing contest between hangman and rooster, you've stuck to phoenix's side as you've flown with her before but aren't paired together for this mission
~ you've heard of her backseater's reputation, and were eager to meet him. someone at your level, who understands the role and loves it just as much as you do. and by the looks of it, he looked like he might be different from the male pilots you've worked with in the past
~ and not to mention he's really fucking hot.
~ but as soon as he cracks a distasteful joke, one that rubs you the wrong way and somehow takes a jab at your ability to fly like him, you're done. so you give him the cold shoulder and think to yourself, he's just like the rest.
~ but that doesn't stop you from trying to impress him, because for some reason you may have developed a crush on him. but after a while, that crush turned to nothing but pure hatred.
~ bob makes your life a living hell. he makes it a point to criticize every little thing you do, and soon enough it became a battle to see who the better wizzo would be.
~ "god, you're fucking insufferable. you really can't keep your mouth shut, can you? you're clogging the damn radio Yankee." he spat. "Bob." Phoenix piped in, but was ignored as you responded. "I've got to get Coyote's attention somehow, asshole. back off."
~ the rest of the squad is used to your bantering, but it never went passed jabs at each others abilities, or other meaningless characteristics.
~ none of it went unnoticed by phoenix, though. she could see right through the snide remarks and icy glares. she knows you. she remembers the blush that crossed your face the first time you laid eyes on bob, and she remembers the way your face fell after his joke went over your head.
~ she knows bob. she knows that he thinks highly of you and is impressed with your work. and that he has the dryest sense of humor known to man, and that he thought you were stuck up after you didn't laugh at his joke.
~ she sees the longing glances bob gives you when you aren't looking. the ones where he stares at you, laughing with fanboy, in that beautiful sundress that flows so perfectly around your curves. and he's angry with how beautiful you look, and how happy you are in that moment, and he's angry because he wonders why can't i be like that with her
~ he wasn't good with feelings. and you were mean to him, so he was mean back. but maybe one night he takes it too far.
~ you've mentioned in passing and in group that your parents struggle with your line of work, and it's taken a toll on your relationship with them. so after a long day of flying and picking fights with each other, you're both exhausted. and of course that tiredness turns to anger, and anger is an emotion you and bob know best with each other.
~ bob's fed up. fed up with himself, and flying, and mav's drills, and you. it's always you.
~ "god after missing that target, it’s no wonder your parents aren’t proud of you” he regrets it as soon as he says it. a surprised "woah" is elicited by rooster, as you stop in your tracks. “you’re a real asshole, floyd” you say, voice shaky, before you turn on your heel and dart away.
~ phoenix grabs bob's arm, pulling him back as the rest of the pilots move along. "what the fuck was that, bob? you know, this little rivaly you and yankee had was cute at first, but it's gotten out of hand lately. coming for her like that? brining her parents into it when you know what their relationship is like? that's a low blow. especially coming from you. you need to take some time and think about whatever this little thing means, because its obvious you've got something else going on." she says, leaving him standing on the tarmac. he waits there for a minute, ashamed. bob feels his jaw twitch before he heads back inside
~ he knows he has to man up and apologize. he didn't mean it, he was frustrated. frustrated with his feelings, and the mission. but his words shoot to kill when he's mad. he has a lot of regrets about that. (thank u to jay for killing me with that)
~ the next day, as he plans to apologize to you, he approaches with caution. he waits for you to say something, anything, but the moment never comes. you don't say a word to him, just leave him with a second long look, full of pain and something else he can't place.
~ it goes on like this for the next few days. no more snide remarks, scowls, or fighting. just stolen glances that don’t go unnoticed by your teammates.
~ in between drills, bob walked past an empty classroom put paused when he heard your voice.
~ “i thought he was different, javy. i don’t know. i’ll get over it.”
~ bob couldn’t help but feel yet another pant of jealousy. he knew you were talking about him. and to confide that in coyote? you were a lot closer than he thought, and he felt stupid for how much he hated that.
~ he decided to stay on base a little later than usual that night, catching up on some reading and drill planning. as he was packing up his bag, he heard some yelling, a loud clatter, and a scream that sounded all too familiar. running into the hallway, he bounced his head around until he found the site of the incident. his heart dropped to his stomach as he spotted you, crouched against the wall, shaking, blood dripping down your face mixing with the tears that were also falling. there was broken glass next to you, a shattered frame. he ran faster than his feet could take him, stumbling before he landed on the ground next to you.
~ startled, you look up through teary eyes to see the last person you’d expect to come to your rescue. bob looks at you with an expression you can’t decipher, one of concern mixed with rage. he reached gently to wipe your tears, uttering a soft, “who did this to you?”
~ "no one, just some new recruits ran by and knocked me into the wall, the picture fell down and hit me on the way. i'm fine." you said, breathily. "no, you're not or you wouldn't be crying and bleeding. let me help you." bob said, standing up and reaching his hand down to help you up. rolling your eyes, you took his hand to stand up, ignoring the fluttering in your tummy as your hand clasped his.
~ he led you into an empty locker room, grabbing the first aid kit. "i'm fine, bob, really. you don't have to help me, just leave me here." "i'm not going to leave you with an open wound. just let me see it."
~ he grabs a piece of gauze, lightly dabbing your temple to clean off some of the blood. "ow." you wince, pulling your head away. bob sighs, "you're so stubborn. sit still and let me clean it, will you?" he looks at you, those fucking big blue eyes boring into yours. "ok, sorry." "thank you."
~ as he cleans the cut, his hands are slightly shaking. his hands are calm and steady in a fighter jet, but they can't be still while he's cleaning the wounds of the prettiest girl he knows. bob's trying to be gentle, but you're so close to him, sitting on the counter in between the sinks and his knee rests between yours.
~ you're looking up at him, and he's fighting every urge he has to not look down at your eyes, and your lips. breaking the silence, you say, "did you learn this one as a boy scout?" bob chuckles. "i'll let you have that one." an uncomfortable silence overcomes you, and he finishes by putting a bandage on.
~ as you go to leave, you turn in the doorway. "hey, bob?" "yeah?" he replies, looking at you. you stare at him for a second, lips parted. "thank you, really." bob gulps, nodding in respone. "yeah, um, of course. and hey, y/n?" surprised at him calling you by name, you answer. "yeah?" "i'm uh, really sorry for what happened, the other day. it was wrong of me and I shouldn't have said that."
~ giving him a soft smile, you respond by saying, "s'okay, bob. it was the heat of the moment. we've all said things we didn't mean."
~ things go back to normal after that, except you and bob no longer seem to have it out for each other. the other pilots notice, but the mission comes along at last. as the news breaks that the dagger squad landed one of the most successful missions in naval history, the decision is made to establish a permanent task force.
~ and just like that, the rivalry picks right back up. "are you fucking kidding me, bob? you can't go one second without taking a stab at me. it's fucking never have i ever. you don't have to single me out." you yell, stomping out of the room where everyone was sat hanging out, making your way to your barrack. bob followed, trying to diffuse the tension. "oh come on, yankee it was a fucking joke. nothing you aren't used to."
~ you finally reached your room, bob somehow managing to follow you in. "get the fuck out of my room floyd. jesus, you can't leave me alone for one god damn second. and to think we were starting to get along, you can't give me a fucking-" he cut you off by grabbing your arm, spinning you around and pulling you flush to his chest. "you make me so fucking mad." he growled.
~ before you could respond, he pulled you even closer, pushing his lis against yours. stunned, you let out a gasp, but your eyes fluttered shut and you kissed him back just as hard, your free hand reaching up to tug at his hair. the kiss was hot and heavy, and you broke apart, gasping for air.
~ “why the fuck did you just kiss me?” you say. “because you’re insufferable. i love you so much for it. since the moment i met you. you make me so mad but in the best god damn way possible.” bob replies, at a volume so low you're not even sure you can hear it.
~ things get stranger from there. no longer are the heated arguments, only light banter that's filled with enough sexual tension to drown jake's and bradley's out. you don't speak of what bob said in your room that night, but instead of fighting, it's just kissing.
~ the usual banter was still banter, but now it was more flirty than it used to be. one day, you showed up to a meeting with a hickey bob gave you not fully covered. “didn’t peg you as the kinda girl to let someone mark you up like that, yankee.” rolling your eyes, you retaliated. “you wish you’d given it to me, bob.” coyote and phoenix made eye contact across the room, knowingly.
~it went on this way for the next few weeks. you and bob maintained your rivalry by day, but your nights were full of stolen kisses and make out sessions.
~ everything was fine, until it wasn't. you couldn't control your feelings for bob any longer. so you start to pull away. and bob picks up on it. one night at the hard deck, you finally break. running out of the bar, bob chases you. "y/n, hey. stop running would you? what's wrong?"
~ "just, fucking go, bob. leave me alone." "not until you tell me what's wrong". you turn to face him, crying. “you can stop messing with me now, ok? i know this doesn’t mean anything to you. you don’t have to pretend this means something. because it does mean something to me and i can’t take it because my feelings are real and i know this is all just a joke to you to spite me.”
~ you turn to go to your car, but bob grabs your hand and stops you. his hand comes up to wipe gently at your tears. "honey, hey. look at me. look at me. it’s not a joke to me. it never was. i’ve loved you since the moment i met you. but all you saw me as was just another cocky pilot, so that’s what i became. i never wanted to hurt you. i just wanted you to notice me. but nobody ever notices the real me.” he confesses.
~ you look up at him, astounded. could he really love you, after all this time? after how horrid you've been, and the things you said? he'd seen the worst of you. he can't love you after that. "no. no. bobby, you're being mean. stop it." you say, pulling away. he stops you.
~ "i'm serious, y/n. I have loved you ever since i have known you. I can promise you that. i’m telling you the truth, i swear. id do anything for you. i’m sorry i made you feel otherwise.” he loves you.
~ and you believe him. because you love him too. you don't love him because you'd been rivals, you love him despite the fact. because you'd seen the worst in each other, and after almost two months of misunderstanding, it was finally worth it.
~ and so you kiss him this time. one that's full of passion, and you can feel just how much you love each other, uttering those three words after you break apart.
tagging: @marvelandotherfandomimagines @sailorscuttle @writercole @rosesvioletshardy @2manytabsopen @purelyfiction @deadratio 💗
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sebastianwallows · 1 year
Text
Is it too late?
Sebastian x reader
Summary - Anon request for “
Sebastian teaches you Crucio (he offers himself first, maybe to be manly) but try as you might, you can’t cast it on him. All attempts fail. You switch roles, and Sebastian casts Crucio on you instead and gets it right on the first try. After the events of the game’s main storyline, your relationship with Seb is understandably strained. One day, you have a heart-to-heart talk about your relationship (we used to be friends, we used to be close). You go over a myriad of topics: the regrets you both have over what happened, the feelings of guilt (since you were a bad influence, Ominus has always been right), sadness over Anne’s situation (losing both her family) etc. etc. and you end up asking him about Crucio. You also still wonder why Seb was able to effortlessly cast Crucio on you. It meant he had to mean it? Did he secretly resent you? But the real reason why was he imagined you with another guy and he harnessed his jealously and rage to cast Crucio on you. Angsty, hurt/comfort vibe :))”
Word Count - 2,567
Warnings - angst, mentions of violence
You and Sebastian exchanged looks of distress when you realized what you were going to have to do to get out of the locked scriptorium. Ominis was clearly in a panic, but the only thing you could focus on was the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears.
For either of you to cast crucio on Ominis or even ask him to cast it would be wildly insensitive. You knew it was going to have to be you or Sebastian and you didn't know what you feared more.
You swallowed hard, looking at Sebastian, but avoiding his eyes, "Teach it to me."
His mouth fell open a bit, but he nodded. He was willing to take the curse if that meant not dying in her as Noctua did. You of course knew what to say so he showed you the correct motions with your wand. You mimicked him a few times before he declared that he was ready.
Ominis covered his ears, pacing in fear several feet behind the two of you. Sebastian closed his eyes and spread his arms out to make himself as easy a target as possible.
Your voice was shaking with emotion when you took your stance and shouted, "Crucio!" Sparks shot out from your wand and even as you winced alongside Sebastian, they died out before reaching his figure. You were breathing heavily, looking at him in confusion.
Ominis chimed in since he'd heard the whole ordeal and realized Sebastian wasn't in pain. "You have to mean it. It's not going to work if you don't," his words were soft and somber.
You looked back and forth from him to Sebastian, "I — I mean it for the sake of us not being trapped. What more can I do?"
The frantic way in which Ominis had been milling about had rubbed off on you. Were you doomed to be stuck since you couldn't truly mean the curse? Ominis is the only one of you that had successfully done it before, but you know he wasn't strong enough to ever survive the guilt if he tried to do it again.
And Sebastian, surely he was in the same boat as you were. It was impossible to ever really wish such pain upon each other. You felt soft hands on your shoulder. You noticed the freckled fingers as you tried to control your breathing.
"Y/N...I think I can do it if you can take it."
At that moment you had no idea how to feel. Part of you was relieved that all hope may not be lost, but how could he mean it? Had you ever done something so awful to him to warrant those feelings? You got lost in your thoughts while more protests came from Ominis. When you snapped back to the reality of the situation you turned around to face Sebastian, "Okay. I'm ready."
You kept your eyes on him the entire time, so many things going through your mind. If he was really going to cast it on you there was a morbid part of you that had to see it. You had to see the look on his face when he did such a thing.
It felt like slow motion when you heard the words from his lips. You caught the glare on his face as he directed his wand toward you. Then you were just on the ground. It felt like your veins were on fire, you heard screaming, but couldn't even register that it was coming from your own mouth.
As quickly as it began, the flames that seemed to lick at you from the inside out dissipated, but the pain lingered. You groaned and clutched at your sides as you felt a body kneel down beside you. You cried out for Sebastian but it was Ominis who wrapped an arm around your shoulders., muttering words that you couldn't make out.
All you were aware of was the shudders wracking your body while you watched Sebastian walk right through the door which had opened up.
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Now it was your seventh year at Hogwarts. So much had changed in the short years that you had been attending the school. In some ways, it seemed like it went too fast. The way your friendship with Sebastian was so strong and seemed unbreakable. The way you could go to class and visit Professor Fig with little worry. All of those things seemed like they were gone much too soon.
Unthinkable things happened. You lost Sebastian to the darkness that you had led him toward; you had supported his misguided attempts to help Anne. You lost Professor Fig trying to finish his wife's research. You were trying to protect the ancient magic and along the way had to put a stop to an entire rebellion.
You had gotten too many of the things that weren't suited for your young age and instead lost all the things you should have been able to enjoy and take for granted.
It had been some time since you had been in the Undercroft. It felt different than it used to. Much colder and lonelier. You were waiting to meet Sebastian. You'd requested to see him late at night. You weren't able to hold onto these burdens any longer. Many of them were just as much his as yours and he needed to be held accountable.
You felt goosebumps pop up over your arms when you heard another set of footsteps arrive. The clock door could be heard closing and you used every bit of strength you had to turn around and face Sebastian. You hadn't completely ignored one another, but everything was surface-level. It hadn't been much of a friendship in quite some time.
You took in his hair and the way it had grown out into soft waves around his face. A faint red stubble appeared across his upper lip and his eyes looked at you with so many questions. Now that he was here and in this location with you, you were at a loss for words.
He spoke up first, "I, er, I got your owl. I hope I'm not late."
You creased your brows at him, giving him a wry smile. "I mean. You're a little overdue for having a meaningful conversation with me."
You crossed your arms and he let out a long breath, cautiously taking a few steps towards you. His chocolate eyes were glued to yours, even if it killed him to hear what you had to say, he was determined to listen.
"I'm sorry for all the things I did. I'm sorry for leaving things so messy between us. I just assumed you would be off the way Ominis and Anne are and want nothing to do with a disgrace like me. It's bad enough you're all harboring my worst secret.
"I should have done more when I heard the news about your mentor and...and about the whole ordeal with Ranrok. I just didn't think I had a place in your life. I think for me to offer you any of my own pity would be insulting when you're so much more valuable than me."
He searched your expression for any hint of emotion. You couldn't conceal the tears that were blurring your vision that you fought so hard to contain.
"Sebastian, you're mad!" you waved your arms around, laughing nervously as you started to walk and talk, "We we're friends. We were nearly more than that, at least, that was what I had thought. Nothing was ever the same after the scriptorium. That day something changed you. Using that bloody curse changed you."
You kept your back to him to hide how heated your face was with the hot tears across your cheeks, "And it's my fault. If I could have just wielded it, I could've handled it. I — I've wielded so much magic. So much strong magic that you can't even fathom. But I failed you. I wasn't strong enough that day and it ruined you. It ruined us.
"You didn't even check on me after you cast the curse. Did you know that?" you laughed bitterly, feeling his presence looming behind you, "Ominis sat with me. He stayed up late nights with me while I tried to make sense of it all and recover from such a thing. All you cared about was Salazar Slytherin. And it didn't even have a good ending. Of course, it didn't, you were dealing with some imperialistic founder that never had good intentions."
You took a few moments to breathe after having lashed out at Sebastian. It was two years' worth of pain and guilt that had been eating at you. It had eaten away at you so much, the keepers weren't even sure you could do the job they had in store for you.
Sebastian moved to place a hand on your shoulder, to turn you to face him. When you did you just looked up at him angrily and jabbed your fists into his chest.
"How could you do it? How could you ruin everything and then abandon me?" You felt helpless as you screamed at him, collapsing against him where he held your end. This isn't how you wanted things to go. You didn't want him to see any more of your weaknesses to use against you, but it was beyond your control now. He had to see what his actions had done and how they had made him feel.
When you had a moment to wipe your eyes, you looked up at him more clearly. You could see the pain and regret written on his face. You could see the tears threatening to fall from his own eyes, but he knew that he didn't deserve anything good from you. He deserved every minute of a beatdown you were willing to give him if only it would put him out of his own misery.
You watched him struggle for words for the first time in your life. He stuttered. He started and stopped his sentences many times, searching for the right thing to say.
"You're right. Ominis was right. I did things that are worse than unspeakable. I abandoned everything for what? Anne never wanted to be cured in the way I was trying to make it happen. Even if she had she would have never forgiven me for the things I had done to myself. I've lost her anyways now. And who knows when something happens to her, when she succumbs if anyone will even tell me.
I lost Ominis. I chewed him up and spit him out as badly as I did you. He trusted me and I couldn't ever extend that courtesy to him, I couldn't...." his words trailed off and he slammed a fist into the wall behind you.
"I couldn't just listen to anybody. I just had to do what I wanted to do. I let the darkness take hold and I couldn't stop. It just consumed me. But you...Y/N...I never wanted to hurt you.
"When I...when I cast the curse to get us out of the scriptorium, I hated it. And I was immature and dumb and thought that if I walked away from what I caused it would relieve me of my own guilt, but it didn't. Do you know what had to think of just to harm you?
I made up my own ridiculous narrative in my head as if you and I were ever an item. Though I wanted it to be so. And I imagined if that were the case how I'd feel to see Garreth or Prewett or some other sod all over you."
He turned away from you now, causing you to stumble forward from where he'd been holding you up. You stared at the back of his robes as his shoulders shook.
"I ran away and ruined everything with you because I was able to make up some stupid story to help us escape with our lives. It would have been better if we all just perished, that's what I think now anyways. Of course, it would have been all my fault and you and Ominis would have never deserved it, but none of you would have had to hurt that way."
You were in shock at the number of confessions he had just made, but he probably felt the same finally hearing your feelings as well, even if they could have been presumed.
Some of the anger seeped out of your body when you realized just how badly he'd been hurting this whole time. You had thought he simply turned to ice, was practicing the dark arts now, and stopped caring. But you could see that was never the case.
You had no words for the situation at hand. You both had exhausted everything you had. You did decide to walk forward and tentatively place your hands around his waist in a much-needed embrace.
You felt him crumble beneath your touch, staggering to stand as loud sobs came from him. He covered your hands with his and held on so tightly you thought that they might fall off. He dropped to his knees, slipping through your grasp. You got down on the floor next time, forcing him to lean on you.
"Y/N...I don't deserve to even still be in this world. I — I wish you would put me out of my misery. There's nobody to miss me. No family is waiting at home for me. And I can accept it if you need to torture me or get your revenge. It wouldn't be wrong at all, but please. I can't take this. I can't live with everything I've done."
He whimpered as he spoke his last few words. You could see him clutching his own arms, fingers turning white from where he tried digging into his own skin through his cloaks. You couldn't bare to see him like this. As much as he made you mad and sad and everything in between, you couldn't take it.
You shifted to where you were in front of him and leaned your forehead against his. You used a gentle hand to wipe some of the wetness from his cheeks and slip a hand beneath his own so he would loosen his grip.
"Sebastian I'm not going to...to kill you. You're still a special person to me, even after everything. Even if you have made a lot of wrong choices. Let's see if we can fix things together, okay?" Your voice wavered slightly, but you meant what you said.
You did want to help him through this, imagining the scale of his pain to be far more severe than your own.
He shook his head against yours, mumbling about how he didn't deserve it and he wasn't worth it. You decided it might be best to let him cry it out and come to terms with his own feelings for a while and it gave you the chance to think about your own as well.
You sat down on the floor with your legs spread open and pulled his limp form against your shoulder. You wrapped warm arms around him and felt him grabbing at your robes, desperate to hold on.
"We'll figure this out," you whispered. You weren't really sure if you were talking to him or yourself.
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kz-i-co · 1 year
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Don’t Fall In Love: Part 2
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Summary: You are one of the most popular bloggers on your campus, telling enriching stories of your personal heartbreaks anonymously. But your readers are not ready to handle the newest heartbreak of finding out your best friend dating your ex.
Pairing: Lee Haechan (Donghyuk) x f!reader
Genre: college au | angst (eventual fluff x smutt)
Warnings: story may contain strong language, mentions of drugs and alcohol - sexual references - reader discretion advise.
Words: 4.6k
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Masterlist | Nct 127 Masterlist | Nct Dream Masterlist
Taglist: @lovingvoidgoatee, @lunaryoongie, @matchahyuck, @yixingtion, @mosviqu, @ohmyhuenings, @nctzennikki09​
::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #51 Please understand that my short hiatus was necessary as I can firmly say....I'm going through hell. And those of you still accusing me for bullshitting fake news....then shame on you - but also honored you think my creativity is this impressive, thanks I guess. I will gladly get to your questions as my DM box is officially full - also thanks again....I guess - but please let me vent on my own because this is all too real and once again....NOT okay with it. I never seen this coming. It's bad enough I had to confront my oh so famous ex on the matter and thought I was crazy to split up his new found relationship. The jerk didn't take it well since he brought up my relationship with J - his best friend. Oops did I forget to mention that? Call me slut or hypocrite - what ever floats your boat but I as well was under a lack of information and I would take it back if I could. I have more regrets than I would like to admit and people reading who are close to me will probably connect the dots eventually and my identity will soon be blown but as of right now I'm venting and this is the only place I can comfortably do it. I will get to my session on D soon but right now I'm pissed and rather not talk about it. Thanks for being here anyway. Xoxo peace :::
"(Y/N), help me hang this." Minjeong asked letting one side of the banner dangle. It's been a few days since you've found out about Donghyuck and Minjeong and you still couldn't deal with it, but at least you played nice.
"Why are we doing this?" You sounded uninterested.
"Jimin's birthday." She sounded offended.
"I know that.....she said not to make a big deal out of it." You shrugged taping the other side.
"That's the best part." She smiled once again. "You okay? You seem down lately."
"I'm just drowning in school work, exhausted." You lied.
"You need more sleep and to stop partying."
"I've only been to two this week." You made your way to the kitchen and pulled out a can of soda.
"And stripped in front of the whole fraternity." She giggled. "And can't forget trashing your ex's."
"Must we keep talking about this? I was drunk and stupid and I said I was sorry."
"Alright." She began, following you. "Actually....can I ask you for dating advice?" She said, changing the subject.
"Trouble with catfish already?" You tried not to smile.
"It's not that....and stop calling him that." She smiled sarcastically. "How long did you date Jaemin until you guys started.....you know, sleeping together."
You didn't lie that the question alone caused your stomach to sink. "Well, first of all, he was a fuck buddy so the first date technically."
"Well then, your other ex...."
You sighed avoiding her question. "Min, you just started dating this guy and you want him to fuck you already." Your eyebrows furrowed.
You can tell she was uncomfortable. "I'm just getting impatient and I thought guys in college dived right into that stuff."
"I mean you ain't wrong. College guys are horn dogs." You giggled. "But I don't know, maybe he's a gentleman."
You chuckled to yourself because you knew that was the farthest from the truth. Donghyuck was no gentleman, at least not anymore....or maybe this was somehow an act to look innocent to get girl to fall for boy faster - what an evil genius.
"So am I wrong to worry? All we've done is kiss and hold hands. I want more." She sounded defeated and you as her best friend would feel bad and want this douche to pay but this was Donghyuck we're talking about, you didn't want happiness for him. Cruel yes but maybe he deserved it.
"Break up with him." You said nonchalantly.
"Not this again (Y/N). You act like you don't like him but you met him once, can't you try a little harder."
You heard a knock on the door ending your conversation thankfully. "I hope that's not Riri, I told her to distract Jimin, we're not done." She panicked as she opened the door.
"Speak of the devil." She squealed hugging the person on the other side and of course it had to be none other than your ex himself. "You came early to help?"
"Of course." He spoke and you couldn't help but laugh to yourself in the kitchen. His tone sounding unfamiliar.
"(Y/N) be nice." She warned as she passed you in the kitchen. "I have some balloons here that need to be filled up and I still have the punch that needs to be made and oh the snacks."
You and Donghyuck both shook your head at Minjeong's pacing as she needed everything to be perfect.
"I'll stay here with the snacks." You offered, already grabbing the bowls from the cabinets.
"Okay great. I'll blow up balloons." She grabbed the bag. "Oh shit, I left the cake in the car." She panicked and made her way to the door. "Channie, can you make the punch, you do it the best."
"A-huh." He nodded feeling overwhelmed and as soon as she left he sighed.
"Channie." You mocked as soon as he made his way over. "I love you Channie....you're so cute Channie."
"Please shut up." He grabbed the bowl, not caring he basically pushed you out of the way.
"What's wrong, no love in paradise?" You teased.
He just glared at you as you continued your fun. "I'm surprised you haven't told her yet....seems unlike you."
"Like I said, you tend to ruin relationships all on your own." You shrugged pouring the chips in the bowl.
"Yep, that was all me." He said sarcastically.
"I'm surprised you haven't slept with her yet, come on Hyukie, you're better than that.....have you lost your touch?"
"How do you even know what we've done."
"Did you forget Minjeong is my best friend? She tells me things....and she is upset."
"Upset huh?" He turned towards you with a smirk. "She really wants me that bad?.....I was waiting for her to beg.....virgin's especially can't wait long enough."
"You're sick. Maybe she's just desperate."
"You let me know when you hear next door." He remarked as Minjeong opened the door cutting off your conversation.
You crumbled the rest of the chip bag and threw it aggressively in the trash.
"Cakes fine." She smiled and sensed the awkward tension. "How's the snacks coming."
"Everything is dandy." You smiled and Donghyuck nodded and continued his punch.
You grabbed the completed bowls and made your way to the living room to place on the coffee table. You really tried not to show your disturbed emotion as you turned to grab more bowls seeing the two embraced in a sweet kiss and giggling together.
It hurt....it hurt because that was you once.
"Um....can I add liquor to this?" Donghyuck was quick to pull away, wiping off his smile as he saw you grabbing another bowl close by.
"This isn't that kind of party." Minjeong giggled.
"Not a lot, just enough to take off some edge." You knew he met you but you didn't turn around to show you were listening. You were done listening.
"Half a bottle." She said and made her way to the living room blowing up balloons.
Then you finally looked back as he gave you a rueful smile and then suddenly emptying the whole bottle causing you to softly giggle. Not a party if Donghyuck isn't spiking the punch, typical.
....
"Guys, they're gonna be here any minute." Minjeong announced as the talking started to die down.
"Isn't that your ex?" Yetak spoke next to you as Donghyuck was practically hiding in the kitchen, engaged in a conversation with Mark and Renjun. You could tell he was anxious to even be in this situation that you so happened to make worse by lying to everyone.
"Nope, they just look alike." She looked at you puzzled and then back at him. "I'll explain later but for now just pretend you don't know him okay?"
"Shhhh....she's coming." Minjeong had everyone quiet and as as the door opened....
"Surprise!" Everyone cheered as soon as Jimin and Riri walked through the door. You didn't invite a lot of people to your apartment, just some close friends and of course Minjeong allowed Donghyuck to invite some of his friends and bless your soul Jeno and Jaemin decided not to come saving you a night of disaster.
"Oh wow....thank you everyone." She smiled and leaned next to Minjeong. "I said no party."
"It's not a party....it's a gathering." She smiled cutely.
"It's a party." She smiled but you could sense the anxiety in her.
"It's not even big enough to be a party.....I only invited a few people." She remarked. "We have drinks and food....just a hang out - you only turn 23 once."
She nodded looking at you for help. "If you're really concerned Channie made some special punch if you need to relax."
"Or Mark bought some drinks, since we're all adults." He spoke up and Jimin locked eyes with him and immediately looked to you causing you to shake your head.
"Some of us." You smirked trying to get rid of any suspicion.
"Oh Jimin.....I didn't introduce you yet." Minjeong dragged him closer and he couldn't help but fake a smile as Jimin was already set up to cause disaster. "Jimin this is Haechan."
"You're the catfish?" She spoke and you combed through your hair panicked.
"Catfish?" He questioned.
"Don't take it personal Hy-Haechan.....we knew Min met you online and you know it's hard to trust anyone. Most of them lie and cheat and hide who they really are."
He glared towards you but quickly pulled off a fake laugh. "You're right....there's a bunch of crazy people on those sites, lucky Minjeong didn't meet one."
"Nope I didn't." She held his arm leaning closer.
Jimin locked eyes with you again shrewdly. "Nice to meet you."
"Do you mind if I get dressed real quick, Min?" She made a beeline through to her room. "(Y/N), Riri.....help me." She signaled and you were quick to follow.
"Can you be any more suspicious." You shouted in a hushed whisper.
"What the fuck is going on? Why is he here?"
You sighed. "That's Minjeong's new boyfriend."
"Very funny." Riri laughed.
"I'm not lying, it's been him all along -the catfish."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jimin practically yelled.
"Keep your voice down. Can you see why I've been so pissy lately."
"Oh my god, she don't know? You didn't tell her?"
"How am I suppose to tell her. She liked him before I even knew who he really was. I can't do that to her."
"But you're gonna let her do this to you?" Riri spoke up.
"It's not her fault, she never met "my ex" before." You shrugged defeated.
"So what is this? Is this his way of getting back at you." Jimin asked.
"He swears he didn't know she was our friend."
"Bullshit." She shook her head.
"Well, he seemed pretty startled when he first met me."
"And you just played it off like you didn't know him?"
"What was I suppose to do Ri....say hey ummm you know this is my ex that broke my heart into a million pieces."
"Yes."
Jimin looked more angry than you. "I don't know who I should be more pissed at...you or her or him."
"Trust me I'm pissed at myself as it is." You put your hands on your hips, taking a deep breath.
"And he's not in anyway consider breaking it off with her?"
"I tried.....he doesn't care about me anymore."
"You have to tell her." Jimin said with more sympathy.
"Let her be happy with that jerk."
"I don't mean for her, for you. This is not healthy (Y/N)....not after what he put your through - is still putting you through."
"Well, it's too late.....she's already sunk in deep."
"I don't care. She deserves to know, unless you're gonna keep lying to her."
"Besides - if she knew she was doing this to you, she would be upset." Riri spoke up after Jimin.
"Okay fine, but not yet."
"Sooner is better than later, she can't fall farther than she already has."
"I know, I'll handle it. I mean.....if she still wants to date him after then it's whatever."
"Why would you do that when you're still in love with him?"
"I'm not still in love- I'm not." You could tell they didn't believe you. "I'm fine - I promise."
"Guys. Everything alright?" Minjeong opened the door and Jimin quickly changed her shirt, avoiding suspension.
"Everythings great, I love the party."
Minjeong rolled her eyes playfully. "I know I know, I just want your birthday to be special."
"It is, thank you." She gave a genuine smile as you all looted back to the rest of the apartment.
"Drinks you say?" Jimin grabbed you and headed towards the kitchen. "Nice to see you again Hyuck- oops I mean Haechan." She smirked and you couldn't help but giggle as you both grabbed some drinks off the counter.
He gave a look of annoyance. "Hmm, what did she tell you?"
"Oh nothing.....I just think that if neither of you are gonna tell Minjeong than I will." She warned causing you both to look at each other timidly.
"Go ahead, I already told (Y/N) to tell her.......I did nothing wrong here."
"That's priceless." She laughed.
"What did she tell you about us.....I'm dying to know." He leaned on the counter.
"More than enough."
"I bet my life it wasn't the truth." He said causing you to laugh causing the attention of Minjeong from across the room.
"Let's not do this here....it's Minjeongs party after all." You said and Jimin took a sip in agreement.
"Have the punch it's stronger." Donghyuck smirked before walking away.
"Still in love huh?" She asked as she walked away as well. You took a deep breath grabbing a cup of his poisoned punch.
He definitely put more than one bottle in here. And it showed after three cups, but at least you weren't the only one.
::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #52 I wouldn't say I'm a messy drunk but you may be fooled once you're a witness. I tried to contain my emotions, I tried to contain my actions but when your love life is this much of a mess than wouldn't you agree I deserve it - a little medicine to forget my past and apparently my present. It hurts and booze is all I have. Relax - it doesn't mean I'm turning myself into an alcoholic but every now and then I need something to ease the pain. Let's just hope I don't say anything I regret the next day. :::
"I'm so curious yeah.....sajin sok niga!!!!" You sang along drunkenly with Minjeong. "Georeo nawa wae!"
"Psst.....how long are you going to let this go on?" Mark spoke next to Donghyuck as he watched you and Minjeong sing and Dance to the music.
"You want to turn the music off?" He took a sip of his  drink.
"I mean this girlfriend - ex girlfriend thing."
"(Y/N) is gonna tell her anyway, so I'll just wait it out."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know her."
"I need a refill." Minjeong made her way to the kitchen. "I love your punch Channie.....I can't get enough."
"Oh but you will." He pulled her away as she practically collapsed into his arms.
"But it's so good." She whined.
"You can have more tomorrow." He said sweetly as he guided her to her room.
The party was pretty much cleared out by this point. "It's getting late I guess we'll head out." Renjun spoke as he stood up.
"You guys can't go yet. We're not done singing." You slurred your words. "Oof, it's hot." You started taking off your shirt.
"She has a habit of stripping when she's drunk." Jimin laughed and Donghyuck combed his fingers through his hair in annoyance as soon as he stepped out of Minjeong's room.
"I'll put her to bed, you can go." Jimin offered as Mark and Renjun approached the door.
"Thank you for inviting us, happy birthday Jimin." Mark spoke before making an exit.
"We didn't even sing happy birth-" You puked before finishing your sentence.
"You guys go, I'll meet you back." Donghyuck said to Mark and Renjun and he grabbed you gently, guiding you to the bathroom.
He leaned over the tub, turning on the shower to warm. He started unzipping your puke filled jeans helping you out of them as you just stared at him apologetic. "I'm sorry."
"Maybe I should of listened to Minjeong and only put half a bottle." He showed a slight smile.
"I'm sorry for ruining our relationship." He was caught off guard from your statement. You always accused him first for ruining the relationship but now it was the other way around. What changed with you and when did you feel this way?
"What do you mean (Y/N)." He looked at you puzzled.
"I'm sorry I was a horrible girlfriend to make you cheat." You teared and he sighed taking a moment to comprehend your confession.
"You weren't a horrible girlfriend (Y/N)."
"I bet Minjeong is better than me." You looked up at him. "Does she make you happy?"
"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay." He turned you around and unclipped your bra and guide you to the shower, closing the curtain as he faced away from you respectfully. Even though he's seen all of you before, he knew it wasn't his right anymore.
Once you were done, he handed you a towel and helped you to your room picking out some simple sweats, getting you ready for bed.
"Drink this whole glass before falling asleep." You nodded taking the water as he headed towards your door.
"Hyuck."
"Yeah?" He turned around.
"Can you stay with me?" You begged softly.
"You know I can't do that." It was his turn to look at you apologetic.
"Oh....yeah." You said quietly. "Well, thank you for taking care of me."
"Sure." He smiled softly. "Goodnight (Y/N)."
"Happy birthday to me." Jimin spoke as she got up from cleaning the puke off the floor.
"Well technically..." He pulled out his phone. "It's 1:47.....it's not your birthday anymore."
"Har har......thanks old friend." She threw the rag at him.
"Ew." He dodged.
"It's your ex's puke." She laughed. "So.....about that."
"I don't want to talk about it." He started towards the door. "She's a mess."
"Well, can you blame her?" She started making the mood more tense.
"I didn't cheat on her Jimin, I don't know what she told you but she caught something and she took it way out of proportion."
"Then why don't you explain that to her."
"I tried, she won't listen to me."
"Well, maybe she's willing to listen now." She crossed her arms.
"It's too late now.....I moved on, now it's her turn." He opened the door. "I really didn't know about Minjeong if she believes that or not but I can't lose sleep over this. I'm sorry."
"It's not just that." Jimin spoke as he took his hand off the door knob, alerting his attention back. "She's not over you, can't you see that?"
He shrugged. "What do you want me to do.....she broke up with me."
"I think the answer is pretty simple." She said softly.
"It's not my fault she didn't tell her, she's the one that lied."
"But it doesn't make it right." He sighed at her answer.
"Look, I don't owe her anything, she decided to push me out. If she chooses to tell her the truth than fine, but for now I'm going to continue on with my life and she needs to do the same."
"Alright....I get it, it's none of my business - I just care about my friends that's all. But she will know eventually and I don't want anyone to get hurt."
"Have any of you considered that it's not just (Y/N) that is hurt?" He confessed before walking out the door. "Happy Birthday Jimin."
She softly smiled in return and let out a long groan as soon as she locked the door behind him.
::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #52 Okay so I admit....I fucked up. Pretending I didn't know my best friends new boyfriend is probably the dumbest decision I have ever made but what can I say - I panicked. I saw him and my mind went blank.....because the truth be told.....I'm not over you D - there I said it. Most of you called it anyway. Why do I even bother hiding anything. Those two damn years we have spent together was the best two damn years of my life - even if I still think it was wasted. D was the one I was so sure I wanted to marry, to eventually have kids with, to grow old with - my everything. But what changed? I know you guys are still dying to know.....but I'm just not ready. I got drunk last night and poured my heart out just to be shot down. Regrets regrets regrets - now he knows how I feel, I showed him weakness and now he's probably gloating in his victory. Probably even telling J of how much of a mess I am at this very moment. I'm in for a treat that's for sure. Well I guess that's all for now. Xoxo peace :::
-
"Can I talk to you for a second?" He arched his eyebrows in confusion as you were the one knocking on his door.
"I don't want to be rude (Y/N) but I'm leaving soon to meet up with Minjeong."
"I know, it will just be a second." Your tone was serious and he opened his door to let you in. Mark was nowhere to be seen, leaving you and Donghyuck alone for your disliking.
"So what's up?" He sat down on his wheelie chair, gently rocking back and fourth. You couldn't help but admire his comfy state - hair slightly a mess - slight dark circles forming under his eyes from his lack of sleep caused by late night video games and - sweats to top it all off. You missed that.
What were you doing? This is your ex you are thinking about. He wasn't yours anymore - stop staring at him like that. "(Y/N)? Are you still hungover?"
"Um- yes definitely hungover." He smirked at your stumble. "I just wanted you to know that, that wasn't me last night.....I was clearly drunk and I said some thing's I didn't mean and I'm sorry."
"You didn't say anything upsetting." He grew confused.
"Yeah but I still said some things I regret....I don't remember every little piece but I do know you helped me to bed and I just wanted to thank you."
"Sure but for you sake, let's not do it again." He leaned forward resting on his knees. "You made poor Jimin clean up your vomit on her birthday."
"I threw up?"
"All over the place.....even on yourself."
Your eyes grew wide trying to recall the events that happened. He cleaned you up? Does that mean he undressed you?
"I know what you're thinking." He stood up. "I had no intention of seeing you naked so get those dirty thoughts out of your head. I just helped you in the shower."
"How am I suppose to believe you when I was drunk."
His expression turned sour. "You should know me better than that.....and besides it's not like I haven't seen you before."
"But you don't have that right anymore." You snickered. "Who am I kidding, it wouldn't be the first time looking at other women when you're in a relationship."
He sighed clenching his teeth. "This is what I get for helping you?......Why don't you do everyone a favor and don't get wasted anymore because no one is going to help you."
"I didn't ask for you to help me."
"Why are you even here if you were just gonna harass me?"
"I just wanted to tell you to forget last night even happened."
"Forgotten." He held open the door and you walked out, you turned around thinking more words were going to be said but instead - a door slammed in your face.
::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #53 Transferring was becoming more and more clear as I live day to day. I am just making everything worse.....aren't I. Every time I open my mouth I find myself regretting what comes pouring out - drunk or sober. I don't know what to do by this point. My heart is like a balloon - slowly being deflated. :::
"What's wrong with you?" Jimin said as you burst through the door and collapsed on the couch.
"I hate everything."
"What happened now?"
"I went over to thank Hyuck for helping me last night but it turned into an argument like always."
"You went over to his dorm?" She asked.
"Yeah." You shrugged nonchalantly.
"Minjeong is on her way over there now, what if she saw you?"
"He said he was meeting her - never mind, I don't care.....I didn't see her it's fine."
"If you're gonna hold up this secret of yours, you need to be more careful because what if she thinks you two are hooking up behind her back, that would be worse than lying."
"That wouldn't happen." You shook your head.
"Why because you're gonna tell her the truth?" She forced.
"No because every time we're together we argue. No love connection what's-so-ever." She glared at you. "I'll tell her jeez, no worries I'm just waiting for the right time."
"There's never a good time, that's why you should just get it over with."
"I know." You sighed finally sitting up right, turning on the tv. "I've literally been rehearsing what I'm going to say."
"Just make it short and simple. Haechan is Donghyuck and you're having a hard time accepting them together."
"I'm not having a hard time-"
"Stop bullshitting (Y/N).....you can lie to yourself all you want but you're not fooling the rest of us."
You rolled your eyes but you knew she was right. "I'm just gonna go drown myself in alcohol."
"(Y/N), no more drinking." She laughed.
"Honestly I'm done talking about this right now." You snipped. "I just want to forget about him for one damn second."
"So....we ordering food, then."
"Yes please." You faked whined causing each other to laugh breaking the tension.
::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #53 Yep.....I should have most definitely kept my mouth shut, because I might have pissed him off worse than I thought. But I should have learned that if you mess with a snake, you're gonna get bit but I flinched and now the venom is traveling down to take me out for good this time. :::
"(Y/N) get dressed." Minjeong burst through the door being dramatically over excited.
"Why?" You groaned not wanting to get up.
"You and I are going on a double date." She said and Jimin sucked in her lips trying to not say anything.
"Huh?" You leaned up.
"Come on.......it will be fun. Dancing and dinner - hot sexy date."
"With who?" You were beyond puzzled.
"Okay so maybe I'm not really sure.....but Haechan says he has this friend that wants to hang out and he's single so...." She shrugged.
Donghyuck selecting a date for you? This can't be good. You pissed him off this morning and now he is in some way, taking revenge. Who could it be? Maybe he payed some desperate nerd to hook you up with. The thought just made your skin crawl. He was definitely up to no good.
"I'm sick."
"(Y/N) please...let's have fun." She pouted.
"Okay but the second I'm uncomfortable, I'm leaving." You'll be surprised if you last the first 5 minutes, to be honest.
.....
"Will you stop pacing, they will be here any minute."
"I thought this place was a lounge not a club."
"It is a lounge, I guess they are just packed tonight." She shrugged.
"I swear if he brings some creep to hit on me-"
"Look they're here." You glanced over seeing Donghyuck entered first and you already hated him for looking the way he did. He may be the type to wear sweats all day if he wanted to but when it came down to business, he knew how to dress nicely and you grew angry from just how attractive he is.
He glanced at you but by the way he eyed you up and down made your question what he was really thinking. He almost seemed speechless. You just hoped he wasn't thinking anything negative.
He did love me once?.....
You tried to shake off the thought of him, looking behind to see who he thought would distract you for the night on this oh so exciting double and you almost thought your eyes deceived you. What an asshole! You knew he was out for revenge and he couldn't sink any lower.
"Hey (Y/N)."
"Hey Jaemin."
-
>> Next Part
©property.of.kz-i-co
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tethered-heartstrings · 10 months
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I’m rewatching the show for the 473858393929th time and I don’t have anyone to soundboard off of so I pose you this question: When do you think was the first time in the show that Hannibal understands that he has real feelings for Will? I’m at the end of season 1 and I feel like it hasn’t quite hit him yet but there are inklings.
On the other end of the question, when do you think is the first time Will understands his feelings for Hannibal? It’s very obvious that it’s always there but like….when in between seasons one and the last episode of season two does it really happen in your eyes?
I think Hannibal seeing Will in "Aperitif" is the closest to love at first sight that I have seen. As far as him realizing/accepting his love for Will, I would say that happens in "Fromage". Hannibal is very much a "fuck around and find out" at someone else's expense. He sent Will to a known serial killer. He probably assumed a GJH 2.0 would happen, and that Will would come back needing more therapy/comfort from another fatal encounter.
But when Budge showed up at his office alive, there is a noticeable panic on Hannibal's face. He had no way of knowing that Will was accompanied by two officers, so when Tobias says he killed two officers, Hannibal's first thought is that Will is dead. And that hurts. More than he anticipated. He has killed plenty of people, but hasn't felt this level of loss and sadness in a long time.
When the ordeal is over, his expression and heart nearly shatters when seeing Jack come in, eyes begging that Will would follow. For a few seconds, his fear that Will was actually gone encompassed him. He visibly relaxes upon seeing Will actually alive. Hannibal saying "I was worried you were dead" was genuine; he really thought Will was killed and he was hurt.
That love continues to develop, making Will's betrayal that much more painful in Mizumono. Hannibal loved Will, and opened himself up to him, something he had never truly done with someone else. Yes, Hannibal framed Will for his crimes and sent him to prison in his stead, but that doesn't mean Hannibal didn't love Will. But Hannibal is very "preserve self at all costs". I think it is something he regretted, but also something he believed had to be done. Going to prison was not an option for him, and he knew Will would survive. Even the way Hannibal commits violence against Will is distinctly different than how he commits it against others, because he does truly loves Will.
Will's situation is a lot more complicated. I think in the back of his mind, deep down, he loves Hannibal somewhere in season 2. He cares for Hannibal, which is why he told Hannibal to run, why he still went to Hannibal's house, why he leaned into the knife and let himself be hurt and held. But I don't think he really acknowledged that love, not until s3. He called Hannibal his "friend" to Jack, which is true. He did consider Hannibal his friend, but it was so much more than that, too much for words, and not something he would want to admit to Jack. (hi, sorry boss, i love the cannibal teehee <3)
He forgives Hannibal in the catacombs, and I do believe that to be a genuine forgiveness. He even tells Hannibal they are blurred, and he isn't sure they could survive separation. That is a pretty roundabout way of saying "I love you". However, I think Will may not want to love Hannibal in that moment. Will makes an attempt on Hannibal's life, and I think Will associates love with violence. If he killed Hannibal, it wouldn't be out of malice, but a desperate attempt to free himself from Hannibal. Perhaps even to fulfill the promise of intimately killing him with his hands (knife is cheating, but shh). And the violence+love connection is perpetuated when Hannibal saws his head open to eat him, because to cannibalize is to love. Hannibal was planning to kill and eat Will even before he knew Will was planning to kill him, because that is how he knew how to love (apparently talking about your feelings isn't a possibility lol).
But still.... I don't think Will really acknowledges his love for Hannibal until near the end of the show. Because I think part of accepting his love for Hannibal is realizing Hannibal loves him, too. And once Will understood Hannibal loved him, his own love for Hannibal burst forth, unable to be contained.
And once Will realizes this, he gives Hannibal the best thing he can, given the circumstance. He pulls them both off the cliff, to be together, unified, into death or into the next life. Truly blurred and beautiful.
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disasterbuckdiaz · 8 months
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Inspiration Saturday 🎸🎙️🎧
Tagged by my love @honestlydarkprincess who started it with really amazing Natalia/Lucy post💙💙💙💙
I was waiting months to find idea for enemies to lovers and FINALLY
Meet mood board for enemies to lovers singers buddie au + snippet
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context Buck's ex outed him to public when Buck wasn't even thinking about coming out as bi
Drowning in sadness and in the feeling that his whole life is going downhill, Buck hears the doorbell ring and despite all his desires to fuck off the one who came, he still goes to the door. 
Maybe it's Bobby who came to say that Buck ruined his second chance and he doesn't want to see him on their label anymore. Buck will understand. Doesn't mean it won't finish him off now.
After open the door all the desire to say fuck off only increases exponentially when he sees who is standing behind the door. Meeting with brown eyes Buck wants to disappear underground
“Great. Like I need more problems now.”
Call him an asshole; he doesn't have any forces to be kind to Eddie despite their truce.
Eddie only raises his hands up in sight of surrender. In one hand he had a bottle. He has his trademark grin on his lips, which Buck wants to erase with his fist. Or his cock.
“I came with peace. And whiskey," Eddie shakes the bottle.
He is silent for a second, obviously choosing his words, and then his grin subsides and Buck sees in his eyes regret and something that can be described as sympathy and concern. 
"I'm sorry, Buck. Sincerely sorry. No one should have to go through this. You had to come out on your own terms when you were ready,” big browns look him right in the soul and Buck feels like he has new portions of tear ready to come. 
He refuses to cry in front of Eddie, so he clenches his fists so that his nails leave marks.
“Yeah, well, it's not like that anymore. And my career may be over.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. Some people will certainly send negative messages, but I'm sure many will support you. I've already seen tweets that aren't very flattering about your ex. He may think he's done something cool, but he's just an asshole. And I have a suggestion.”
The smirk is back in big plush lips.
“Which one?” Buck frowns.
“Another song. About him. Where you lay out everything you think about this asshole. I'll add some. I already have a sketch. I wrote it when I saw the news," Eddie takes his notebook from jacket. "That's why I came late. I wanted to give you some time to cool down.”
“Hate song? Seriously?” 
Buck could expect many things from Eddie: came here to have fun about the fact that Buck's career is over, to point out that Buck always went to destroy himself, hell, Buck admits that he could even have expected real sympathy from Eddie, but not an offer to write a song about his ex.
“And why not? I'm sure you want to kick his ass, but shaming him for the whole world by telling your story and recording a song seems to me a worthy "reward" for him.”
For a second Buck lets himself imagine it and can't deny that the idea of using their talents and humiliating this asshole seems pleasant to him.
Remembering that they are still on the doorsteps, he lets Eddie come in and leads him into the living room.
“Let's have a drink and I'll think about it”
song which is inspired this scene and au
Tagging if they want to share :@911onabc @ebdaydreamer @alyxmastershipper @transbuck @cowboy-buddie @lover-of-mine @heartshapedvows @bekkachaos @panbuckley @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @elvensorceress @shortsighted-owl @barbiediaz @buddierights @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @wikiangela @hippolotamus @transboybuckley @devirnis @heartbeatdiaz @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @spaceprincessem @userdisaster @caroandcats @mandzuking17 @sibylsleaves @translasso and anyone who wants to share
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cybertroniannugget · 5 months
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Pangea and mt Vesuvius
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Not what I originally intended to post here, as I'm writing some spice at the moment but THIS is what my mind was occupied with all freaking day... The whole desaster takes place somewhere in the first movie or between 1 and two. Some details are changed up Which I did on purpose. I know all the movies from start to finish because the hyperfixations are hyperfixating real hard right now.
This is just a random story of how I get idk let's say teleported into the bayverse movies and how I'd probably handle that.
While I sprinkled in a bit more confidence than I actually got, I think it's an accurate representation of what kind of person I am: always cracking jokes, overthinking EVERYTHING, random useless knowledge that turns out to be somewhat useful.
About this fic: sfw, implied romance with OP, trans ftm character, no reader just Alex, confused Autobots they still need to learn so much about earth and everything, I also don't know okay?
This is just me struggling while simping hard for Optimus.
But we still ain't know what fucked up big M's navigation system when he crashed. Infact, why are all of our navigation systems useless here?! ", Jazz adressed, arms crossed over his chassis. "We all be getting lost all the time.
"I think I know why"
Oh please, why did I speak up just now...
All optics and eyes were fixed on me as I said that, making me immediately regret opening my mouth in the first place but here we are now.
"What? Maybe your systems think you're on Pangea.", I said, taking in the same position as Jazz by crossing my arms over my chest.
Optimus leaned closer, one servo on the railing, blue optics studying me thoroughly as to look for any signs of lie in my attitude.
"Pangea? May you elaborate?"
Hearing this deep voice so full of interest made me feel things honestly.
"The supercontinent. Wait, Imma show you."
I take out my phone, careful not to reveal the background, because I couldn't find the time to change it yet.
"Here, this is earth today. You see everything, Europe, Asia, South and North America, Autralia, Greenland and all the islands in the oceans."
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"And this is Pangea, it broke apart into the continents as we know them today about 200 million years ago. This is probably what Megatron had in mind. See? When you look at a map of earth today you might think, if you turn south America around and snug it up to north America, they fit like a puzzle. It's because they were together as part of the supercontinent. Or push it up to Africa, same thing. Just squish it all together"
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"That human is incredibly well educated.", Ratchet chimed in.
"That human has a name and thank you."
"But why did that happen? It makes no sense.", Ironhide complained, lifting one servo as to show his frustration in what I just said.
"If I may...", I look at Lennox, awaiting some kind of approval to continue. He nods and so I proceed with my explanation.
"Well, I don't know how to explain it scientifically, but I'll try to make it understandable."
Optimus nods, listening carefully. How do these highly educated space robots not know about that? But who am I to judge, they aren't from here so I can't expect them to know everything about earth.
"I think it probably started because of something called mantle convection. That means the heat from earth's interior rises up to the hardened crust. That caused it to break open, creating a volcanic rift zone. The cracks went further, the tectonic plates drifted apart. The rifts filled with water over time and while the plates drifted farther away, the oceans were formed. Or something like that I don't know but today we've got 6 continents."
Always undermining everything I say, great job on trying to act confident...
"And Greenland, I don't discriminate.", I added as some people eyed me.
"But I don't know if Pangea is what your systems used as the base to calculate. There were other tectonic combinations even before that, but it's a wild guess I'd say. I am certain it was one of them."
As I was explaining, Optimus' gaze changed to a warmer tone and I could feel my pulse rise to my ears. He was just so beautiful, and seeing him for the first time in person made my heart flutter uncontrollably. I wish I could tell him how I feel,
But this is real. No scenarios, no daydreaming or fanfiction. It was as real as it could get. Damn it, I wanted to shift here, not get teleported or whatever caused me to end up here with all of them. I hope we can atleast become friends. No need to get my hopes up though.
"Alexander?"
The baritone voice of the Prime pulled me out of my thoughts about him.
"Hm?"
"What kind of heat were you talking about?"
"Oh that. Well, starting at earth's core, it's liquid magma. It's really hot, like 5.200 Celsius hot. 9.000 something Fahrenheit for the Americans here..."
This was met with laughter and I continued with my lesson or whatever you might wanna call it I don't care, I'm struggling here okay?
"The further you go up, the 'cooler' it gets.", I say, underlining the word cooler with my hands in a joking matter.
"They probably got fancy scientific names but don't ask me which. Anyways shit's really hot. And it's what shoots up from volcanoes.", I finish as I look into a round of confused optics and a few tilted helms.
"Volcanoes? When tectonic plates crush against each other, or built up pressure is released, no?"
They all look at eachother, chuckling coming from my fellow humans around me.
"Okay here, that's mt vesuvius, big ass volcano."
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"Sometimes these mfs shoot lava from this hole up there, pretty fascinating and scary at the same time.. It looks like this.", I add as they look at the pictures, not knowing whether to be amazed or afraid.
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"The glowing stuff you see here is the lava. When it's still underneath the crust it's called magma."
"Are there many on earth?"
"Yup, don't get too close."
Optimus' optics widen at that statement of mine
"Don't worry bossbot, not on this island. The closest from here is next to Madagascar, Africa. Unless you decide to swim a few rounds up there there's no need to get worried."
The Prime relaxes, shoulders dropping while optics still focused on me.
Why is he looking at me like that? I mean I ain't complaining but if he continues like that Imma internally combust.
"You explain everything so well Alexander."
"Please, call me Alex. Alexander seems so long."
The Prime nods understandingly. "Very well then, Alex."
Oh god make it stop. I love you so much Optimus please...!
"His heart rate just shot up exponentially.", Ratchet mentioned and it was right then and there that I wanted to vanish, dissappear, sink into the ground, never to be seen again.
"Haha yeah, chronic Tachycardia, no need to worry."
That was a lie. Yes, my pulse is through the roof right now, but I've got no heart disease.
As I was met with confusion from every bot except Ratchet I explained before any questions could be asked.
"It's a general term to describe an elevated heartrate. You know, the thing in a human's chest that pumps blood through our body."
"Blood?"
"Oh come on. Okay, well then I can explain that to you guys later. And answer any questions you have as it seems no one else here cares about your education on earth and it's inhabitants.", I say grumpily, looking at Lennox, who raised his hands in defeat.
"I can see us becoming friends Alex.", Jazz laughed.
"Looking forward to it!", I said, pointing fingerguns at the silver bot, which is met with more laughter.
"Okay, class is over, what are we gonna do now?", Ironhide asks into the round of bots and humans.
I just shrug, looking at Optimus, who was still looking at me. But when I looked at him, he quickly looked away to Ironhide.
Cutie~
"Alex seems to know so much, why not ask her?."
That statement of a bystanding soldier was met with a glare from Optimus.
"Alex is a he, you better make sure to remember that!"
They went to protest, but Optimus wouldn't let them. "Unless you wish to get what humans call fired."
Oh shit he's really mad...
"I will make sure of that if you continue your unreasonable behavior."
As he said that I could swear I saw the soldier shrink right then and there infront of my own two eyes.
He looks at everyone. "This counts for everyone here. You will respect Alex."
Oh god, he's standing up for me I can't please marry me Optimus, like right now!
"Okay, lessons aside.", Epps put a hand on my shoulder, smiling. "You were great by the way. I think we can use that for good."
He looked between everyone, a stern expression replacing the warm smile, hand leaving my shoulder. "As much as of a crucial hint this is, we can't know for sure what's exactly causing the malfunction. Better dig people."
True honestly, but HOW is anyone supposed to figure it out without cutting someone open? Megs maybe...?!
"Something's on your mind again, I can see that.", Bumblebee said with snippets over the radio.
"What, me?! It's nothing."
"Nothing?!", Jazz protested. "You just gave us the best clue we could ask for. I'm no Optimus Prime but I can say that I wanna hear ya out my man."
He looks up at Optimus, who was looking at me again after listening to his lieutenant.
"I must say, that you have given us great insight on your mental capabilities Alex."
He leans closer and it took everything of the mental capabilities he just mentioned to not kiss him right here right now.
"Well uh, it's just some kind of impulsive thought. You know, the ones you can't really control...",I said nervously, one hand behind my neck, avoiding everyone's gaze.
But he didn't budge, only blinking once while awaiting an answer.
"Okay, you're not budging I see. Fine."
Taking a deep breath and regretting every life choice I had made up until that point, I went on. "Look, I don't know anything about Cybertronian culture and how things are handled. Especially this right here. Us humans, we always wanna know what exactly caused certain events. For example death here. So we came up with analyzing the body of the dead by cutting them open and stuff, it's called autopsy. Maybe, just maybe we could find something. I know Megatron ain't dead but he's in some sort of... Stasis? Someone could check his navigation system and maybe find the cause for the disruption."
I lower my shoulders, trying to be as small as I possibly could infront of Optimus, who's gaze I couldn't quite interpret.
"On Cybertron, there is quite a similar practise."
"So you're saying it's worth a shot, Prime?", Ironhide asks, unsure of what to think of the situation. "But he's not dead, as Alexander pointed out correctly.", Ratchet added.
Optimus turned around to face his Autobots.
"This may be our only chance. We must take it. For the sake of both worlds. This war has been going on for so long, we cannot let this hold us down. And now it seems there is a way to find out why this is happening. We will fix it, together."
Now it was on Lennox to speak up again.
"So we gon' dissect Megatron? I'm all in honestly. That fucker did enough damage."
My eyes widen at that. "They're not gonna kill him!" Unsure of the righteousness of what I just said I looked at Optimus, who nodded.
"See? They're just gonna take out the navigation system and leave."
"Ooh, big M is gonna be SO mad when he finds out."
"He won't.", Optimus retorted with an absolute certainty in his voice.
"Alright then, it's settled. Prepare people and gather as much information as possible for this mission and await any orders from Big O!"
And with that final order of Lennox the soldiers scattered around, leaving immediately.
Okay great, I'm gonna go be useless again wohoo.
"Alex?"
I look toward the sound of the voice I already grew to cherish. "I know, I know. I ain't accompanying you. I'd die if I did, already know that."
The Prime nods.
"I am glad you understand."
I love you so much I wish I could tell you...
As he remained standing there I grew nervous, fidgeting with the strings of my hoodie.
"Is there something you need?"
"Wha- me? No! Just... go be a hero.
You know you're good at it."
I clear my throat, pretty sure Optimus could hear my pulse. "But remember to take a break sometimes. I always see you up and about."
Did I overstep? I knew it. Chance blown. Goodbye earth. No romance.
"I highly appreciate your concern Alex."
He's always saying my name help. Is he just being polite or what does this mean?!
"There is this human saying. What was it again? I grab it with my heart...?"
Please he's so cute I can't~
"I'll take it to heart was it probably. It means to honor someone's wishes as you see them important."
He tilts his helm in question. "The person or the wish?"
That is when I think all the 5 liters of blood inside my body went up to my face.
Keep calm, stay cool Alex. Don't embarrass yourself.
"It's up to the person saying that."
Whatever higher power there is, please help me!
"You deem my wellbeing as important and so do I"
Phew, that was close...
"Can it be both?"
WHAT
"Eh, sure. There's always room for interpretation."
I guess...?
What has my life come to? They probably think I'm a know it all person. I gotta keep my damn mouth shut from now on.
"Very well then Alex, I look forward to working with you."
I only nod, trying not to get lost in those beautiful blue optics.
"I'm sure it's gonna be great Optimus!"
Unless I unsubscribe from life because a Deception squishes me...
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elimcscouty · 8 months
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i really want to speak up about how i feel regarding the oppenheimer controversy. there’s no denying that it’s a movie about the man who created the atomic bomb: a weapon of mass destruction. i understand people’s complaints about adapting such a serious story, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with them. when i first heard that oppenheimer was being made, i was excited for a new christopher nolan movie. i predicted the story to be about the man, his struggles and regret, and for it to be a cinematic history lesson. when the barbenheimer memes started rolling in, i laughed at them. i don’t regret finding them funny, simply because the concept of two polar opposite movies releasing on the same day is amusing to me. to me, it was doom eternal and animal crossing all over again. i recently saw a post slandering the whole meme of barbenheimer, and to be perfectly candid, i think some people just need to chill out. if you don’t like the idea of the movie, don’t watch it. if other people want to see the movie, don’t take that away from them. i’m not saying that it’s okay to make fun of the thousands of civilians murdered by the bombs. i’m guilty of dark humour, i admit, but i know the limit of certain subject matter. if people are making barbenheimer merch and you don’t find it amusing, ignore the product. i’m definitely gonna get yelled at for saying this, but some people are just so sensitive about everything. if you are calling oppenheimer “american propaganda”, i won’t listen to your argument. movies based on horrific true stories are always being made, and while i’m aware of some censorship they may enforce, the purpose of these movies is to educate people on real life events and encourage the world to learn from its mistakes. i know that oppenheimer heavily regretted his creation and was absorbed by guilt for the remainder of his life, but the movie does not want to ignore that. it does not have the intention of painting him as a misunderstood hero and glorifying his actions. after all, the movie focuses on him way more than the bomb. that’s why it’s called oppenheimer. there’s no denying that the man’s a war criminal and his creation is a war crime. there’s no denying that. but, i think people are too indulged in the idea of the movie excusing what he did. that is not what the movie is doing. i have and will always see this movie as an educational experience that teaches people to learn from history. i hope everyone who wants to enjoy this movie will enjoy it, and to those who want nothing to do with this movie, to continue without it. all in all, i respect that this movie’s not for everyone but don’t agree with some people’s perception of it. if this post at all upsets you, please don’t interact with it and keep scrolling. i just wanted to speak my mind
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