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#because there's just not enough evidence for it that can't also be explained away as some other thing
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Hi! Please can you write a lando meet-cute where the reader gets a flat tire and is standard somewhere, and lando sees her and helps. She doesn’t know who he is and he loves that and they just hit it off straight away. Maybe he like gives her his jacket bc she’s cold and stuff whilst he fixes the car. Just fluff I guess🥰 this will probably be short haha
"I'm an Independent Woman" "I Can See That" - LN
I know you want cute fluff, and you're going to get it but I have to add in the tiniest little bit of like sass. But LOTS of fluff, promise. Also I might...be willing to do a part 2 if people want. IDK if you will but maybe.
Warnings: hungover/drunk driving (I'm adding this after someone did point out in the replies this might be controversial or upsetting, but I apologise to anyone who read this fic before I've added this warning as it hadn't crossed my mind to add it initially)
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Driving along in her beat up poor little Peugeot 106, it's just her luck that on a day so cold that the weatherman said "it's too cold for snow" that she'd get a puncture on a random road in the middle of nowhere.
She's on her way home from her brother's house warming party yesterday, so she's already feeling pretty rough.
"Fucking puncture...really?" Y/n groans kicking the tyre before trying to call her brother since she can't possibly change a tyre.
But thanks to being in the middle of nowhere, she doesn't have a single bar of signal. Meaning she's going to have to approach this all on her own.
"Ahhh...no." Y/n whines feeling like having a full tantrum because her brother and sister-in-law decided the only way to give them a proper house warming would be to get absolutely bladdered. So she's looking rough and the last thing she needed is to be stranded and attempting to change her tyre.
She does manage to get the spare tyre out and all the tools necessary since her dad has always made sure she's got everything she needs in her boot should such an event happen.
Now admittedly, she starts crying, clouding her vision as she tries to use the wheel jack to get the car up. The hangover and the cold is getting to her and figuring out the wheel jack is just adding to her misery.
It's only when a wave of nausea hits her that she jumps up sprinting to the ditch on the other side of the car, her stomach lurching and a significant amount of semi-digested alcohol reappearing. The taste alone making her gag yet again and more comes up.
"Ehhh...are you ok?" A voice asks suddenly making her jump enough that she nearly ends up in the puddle of her own sick, only narrowly dodging it as she grips her car. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
The amusement in his tone is very evident and y/n turns around glaring, though admittedly even in her hungover, nauseous state she can't deny the man is gorgeous.
"No, it's ok. I'm fine." Y/n murmurs while he nods and a silence falls for a moment.
"Do you need some help?"
Y/n pauses trying to get her brain to clear of fog and figure out how he could help her.
"Oh-with the tyre. Oh well, I think I've got it. I mean I was just getting the jack up." Y/n explains moving around on very wobbly legs.
Should she even be driving? Is she still drunk? Maybe for both is her conclusion. One thing is for certain, she shouldn't be trying to change a tyre right now.
"Do you want some help?" The man asks changing his question from need to want. "I'm pretty good with cars."
Considering her options, there's no lower form that he can possibly see her in. She looks rough, she's in a hoodie and joggers, both borrowed from her brother. He caught her being sick in a ditch and she can feel the stickiness of her tears drying on her face.
"I mean even if you steal my shit heap of a car. I don't think anything can make this day any worse." Y/n states while the stranger smiles a little. "I'm y/n, just so you have a name to tell people when you relay this story. I know I would."
"Lando. Nice to meet you." The brunette nods holding out his hand to shake hers which she does before they move around the car and she catches sight of the very expensive looking sports car that is pulled up in front of her own.
"Oh fuck...if that's your car I have nothing to worry about when it comes to stealing mine." Y/n murmurs earning a small laugh as the man crouches to jack the car up a bit more. "I could do it myself. I am an independent woman."
No question. Her dumbass is still drunk. She definitely should not be trying to drive right now.
"I can see that." Lando nods while y/n looks at him for a moment while he is focused on looking at the tyre.
"Sorry."
Lando looks at her again, clearly very much amused.
"I'm going to change this and I'm going to give you a ride to wherever you need to get to because I don't think you should be behind a wheel." Lando states with a very kind smile while y/n sighs softly feeling like this man is already being too kind to her.
"I think it's better if I just shut up." Y/n murmurs while sitting down, leaning against the door and watching Lando make changing a tyre look significantly easier than she was going to make it look. All while she pulls her knees to her chest and rests the side of her head on top of her knees as she watches him.
"Alright, you're all set." Lando smiles once he's done while she manages a weak smile of gratitude for him. "Are you ok?"
"I think so." She nods softly before swallowing then smiling when he offers her both his hands to help her up to her feet. "Thank you. It probably would've taken me an hour to change that myself."
"It's fine. It was pretty obvious you needed some help." Lando chuckles then sighing. "Do you want to grab anything you need from the car and I'll give you lift?"
"Yeah, I'll get that." She nods moving to open the car to grab her bag and jacket before locking the car. "Thank you-again."
"You can stop thanking me." Lando smiles as he opens his passenger door for her. "I'm happy to help."
Her face flushes far too easily and she climbs into the car trying to use her jacket to hide it as he closes the door and moves around the bonnet to get in the driver's seat.
There's a bit of silence for a while before y/n remembers she needs to give him a place to take her.
"Ummm...if you go to Goldworths Park and I'll direct you from there." Y/n murmurs earning a nod from the brunette. "So...do you worth with cars? Like a mechanic?"
Lando had figured she hadn't recognised him but if he did have any doubts he's not got them now.
"I work with cars, but I'm actually a driver." He explains making her look at him, definitely confused.
"Like a taxi driver."
Now that nearly makes Lando snort from laughter. He doesn't feel any point in hiding his profession. This girl has already somewhat can't him in the feels from just how funny she is. Even if he's sort of laughing at her more than with her. It's just the unfiltered thoughts and comments that are so funny, although he's almost certain they're entirely because of anything other than she's clearly still very much drunk from whatever she was drinking for.
"No. Have you heard for Formula 1?"
"Yes, they race around-oh fuck. Oh fuck...no god, please tell me you are not a formula 1 driver. Please tell me I did not look so pathetic about changing a tyre in front of a formula 1 driver." Y/n groans sinking down into the seat despite her seatbelt trying to keep her in place. "Oh god, and I didn't even recognise you! Christ, I'm so sorry."
"It's fine, honestly it's fine. It's nice to just meet someone on the side of the road, help them and not have them treat me any different than they would any other stranger."
"Well usually I'd say I need to repay someone for their help. But I don't really know how I could possibly try to repay you for literally rescuing me." Y/n sighs making Lando smirk a little as he looks forward but she bites her tongue to stop her curiosity from asking what he's smirking about.
"I'm sure I could think of something. Might have to get your number so when I think of what repayment I want, I can contact you." Lando states unknowingly making y/n's mouth dry out. Is he flirting with her? Or is this the alcohol still working it's magic in making her brain incapable of working properly?
But eventually she manages to find her voice again.
"Yeah, eh yeah I can give you my number." She nods swallowing back the dryness to the best of her ability.
Lando suddenly picks up his phone unlocking it with Face ID before handing it over to the young woman.
"Just add yourself."
Y/n bites her lip for a moment being quite nervous to have such access in someone's phone. Especially someone who is almost certainly told to not be so eager to share something that has to have private information on it.
What really surprises her is Lando doesn't seem to have all that many contacts. He has a lot compared to her but she expected there to be a lot more.
"I'm going to save myself under a name that isn't my name so you have to try to figure out which contact I am to get the repayment."
"You are going to make me work to find you in my contacts?" Lando laughs clearly more than amused by the whole idea of her making it a little hard.
"Only because you arrived at the worst possible moment to see me spewing my stomach up." Y/n murmurs still completely embarrassed about the whole situation. "Trust me to meet some rich man in the worst state I've been in for years...I'm going to kill my brother."
"Oh so this is your brother's fault?" Lando questions in amusement.
"Yes! He is a bad influence. The man buys a house, has a house warming and try to kill me with alcohol poisoning by letting me drink the better part of a bottle of vodka and a third of a bottle of rum."
"You definitely should not have been driving." Lando laughs shaking his head but there's a slight tone in his voice that suggests he really means it.
"No. Probably how I got the bloody puncture." Y/n sighs while typing her number and coming up with a name that will probably make her easier to find than if she had bothered to put her actual name.
They manage to shift the conversation and Lando gets her talking a bit more about her life, they get to the point in the journey where she begins directing him til they get to her apartment.
"Well thanks for the tyre change, the rescue and the lift home. When you find my number and I've hopefully recovered." Y/n smiles before she looks at him for a moment. "Really, thank you. It is very nice of you and you really didn't have to do it."
"No. I didn't have to." Lando smiles then shrugging. "You're welcome. I got your number out of it and a repayment of my choosing-once you've recovered of course."
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runningfrom2am · 5 months
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leveling the playing field IV
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summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.5k
tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!!
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a/n: im just hammering this out at this point-
next part
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The following days were full of a new routine. Every morning, take pain medication for your now neverending migraine, gather food for Lucy Gray and the Snow's, check in with Jessup and redress his bite as best you can, go to the hospital and be denied visitation to Coryo, go to class, and then start the cycle again that afternoon. You were getting burnt out, and quickly- your parents were displeased that you weren't home as often. Their patience was wearing thin.
If you were honest with yourself, your patience was also wearing thin. You were catering to Lucy Gray, which of course you agreed to do, but in the case that she wins the games, the Plinth Prize would not be going to you. It would still go to Coriolanus- and he was in the hospital doing nothing but recovering. Which was good. You remind yourself several times a day that you are happy to help because at least he isn't dead.
The sun is setting when Coriolanus wakes up again, this time feeling less groggy. He's been in and out the last few days, most of it as a blur due to the pain medication that has been pumping into his system through an IV for the last few days. He does vaguely remember waking up to eat as much as he could stomach, talking to Clemensia, maybe, unless he was hallucinating, and telling a nurse to stop letting you in when he kept seeing covered plates and glass containers showing up with more food. It had to have been you, and while he was grateful for it, he loathed the idea of you pitying him.
Tigris and Sejanus were both present, now, and despite telling the staff to not let you in, he's more than a little disappointed you are not there. He furrows his brow, attempting to pull out the tube from his hand. "Hey, hey-" Tigris stops him, shaking her head out of confusion. "What are you doing?"
"I'm fine. I'm better." He insists, pushing her hand away.
"I need to go check on Lucy Gray..." He mumbles, shaking his head.
"Y/N is with her. She's fine." Sejanus tells him, standing by the end of the bed.
"Now? What time is it? How do you know?"
"Well, the interviews will start in an hour or so." His friend explains.
"An hour?" Coriolanus asks, now more frantically pulling out the tube with a hiss. He has to be there, he has to go introduce Lucy Gray. He didn't even consciously realize time was passing while he was there.
"No, Coryo, you can't go. Y/N can handle it." Tigris says, trying to calm him.
"Sejanus, are you going?" He asks, ignoring his cousin completely.
Sejanus looks down, shaking his head and twisting his fingers out of nervousness. "No, uh, Marcus escaped. He's gone."
Coriolanus was disappointed- he was hoping he would be able to hitch a ride with him. He'll have to run- though it isn't too far.
"Okay, well, I'm going." He insists, grabbing a pile of clean clothes that Tigris had brought for him the day previous.
Tigris gives up on trying to stop him, and Sejanus hasn't really attempted to. He knows that you would be happy to see him if he is feeling well enough to go. Watching you in class, constantly jittery and even a little pale, made it evident that you needed Coriolanus, or you were worried, at the very least.
Thankful for the morphing he still had in his bloodstream, he makes it to the studio in time for Lucy Gray's interview, even with a few minutes to spare. As soon as he sees you, he can tell that you've been struggling. The bags under your eyes couldn't be hidden by makeup, nor could your healing bruises from the bombing that were now turning a shade of green that would typically make him ill. Scattered as well among them were some darker ones, purple ones, around your elbow and on your wrist. Regardless, you're smiling- talking in a hushed tone to Lucy Gray.
You're opening your brother's guitar case, carefully lifting it out of the velvet that surrounded it when you see Coryo walking toward you, and you're immediately abandoning your effort to stand up and greet him. "Coryo? What are you doing here?" You ask, excitement fading into worry.
"I wouldn't miss it." He smiles politely, adjusting his cuffs.
You sigh, finding the effort to match his smile. "You made it." Lucy Gray grins at him, brushing over her face with a cloth you offered her, a small effort to clean up the dirt and grime that clung to her skin in the zoo.
"Well, I got her a guitar. It's my brothers." You quickly move on, already feeling comforted by his presence alone. You grab it, holding it out to him as Lucy digs into the makeup that you had brought for her to borrow, hoping to add some life back into her face.
He takes it, looking over the polished wood and the brand-new strings. "Thank you. And it's tuned? Working order?"
"Tip top shape." You promise with a nod. "I had it professionally looked over this morning."
"You're a dream." Coryo praises you, making you blush. "Thank you, Y/N. Truly."
"It's my job."
Lucy Gray did amazing in her performance- and everyone loved it. She received the most donations by a long shot, which will allow Coriolanus to help her in the arena. As much as he can without changing her abilities to defend herself or fight, anyway.
You had made it home shortly after, returning your brother's guitar and having a shower before practically crawling into bed. Finally, you feel like you may be able to get a good night's sleep. Coryo is home, and even though you have an early morning, you'll be able to relax enough to rest.
That is, until you hear something snapping against the window next to your bed. You try and ignore it, covering your ears with your pillow, but the tapping persists.
You flick on your lamp and hesitantly pull back the curtain, peeking out to track the source of the noise. It was only a moment before your eyes landed on Coryo, who waves when he can see you in the window. You rub your eyes, squinting from the light and sliding the window open.
"Coryo?" You ask, confused as to why he's here.
"Come down, bring your notebook." He whispers loud enough for you to hear, but his voice is still soft enough to not wake anyone else in your house. "And a coat, it's quite cold."
You sigh. "Okay. Give me two minutes." Apparently, rest isn't a part of your evening plans.
You follow alongside him all the way to the arena, already set up to host the Hunger Games in the morning.
"Woah..." You gasp, walking into the same clearing you had just days before, but now it looked like a whole new place. "Okay. This we can work with." You smile a little to yourself, not noticing Coryo training his eyes on you.
He watches as you walk ahead of him, immediately toward the center of the large room as you scribble in your notebook. You wanted to get down as many details as possible, every new pile of debris or hole that could offer a place of refuge for Lucy Gray. Coriolanus wants to focus on the task at hand, but this is the first time he's been around you without the prying eyes of classmates or adults in a long time. You were never alone, he almost always was outside of school.
Walking up next to you, the light from the moon hits your hair and the side of your face as you look around, hardly glancing at the book in your hand. "Are you..." He starts, being reminded of what he noticed on the walk over but wouldn't dare to mention.
"Hm?" You prompt him to continue, drawing your attention to the boy in front of you now and lifting your pen to your mouth, biting onto it while you shake out a cramp in your wrist.
"Are you wearing makeup?" He asks, leaning in slightly to get a closer look.
"Excuse me?" You laugh awkwardly after grabbing the pen once more, taking a small step back. "Certainly your grandmother taught you its unbecoming to ask a lady such a question."
He chuckles slightly, looking away from you. "Bold of you to assume I consider you a lady." He jokes.
You gasp in mock offense, playfully smacking his arm. "How dare you!" You can't help but laugh. Now you remember why you were friends. Or why you considered him a friend, and why he believed that he was merely tolerating you. In reality, he didn't have to bring you. He could have come on his own, but why should he when you would be willing to accompany him? You're known for your attitude, your brashness, and he admired your unwavering ambition- whatever you wanted you would get. Not just because of your family name, either. You were willing to work for it, to fight for it.
Coriolanus was walking a fine line between desiring your presence and his own indifference. Now, surpassing a mere tolerance of you, this change scared him. "I know what you look like, you know. It's the middle of the night, there was no use wasting our time with putting on makeup." He says, not wanting to let on his own intrigue on the topic.
"I would argue that you don't, not since we were fourteen, anyway." You reply, dipping your head to get back to your sketching. "It's more of a force of habit."
His closeness allows him to grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently but firmly lifting your head back up to get a better look at you. Your eyes widen, your heartbeat increasing with a mix of fear and embarrassment.
His eyes bore into you, into every part of your face as if your skin would somehow tell him the full story. You can't bring yourself to speak, just waiting for him to find the answers he wanted.
"Is it your father?" He asks, looking into your eyes now, his grip loosening on your chin.
You take a quick step back. You were aware that he knew something, he was the only one who tended to stare too long at your skin wherever it was exposed ever since you were thirteen and he asked what happened when you came to school with a bruise on your cheek. Notably more so after your essay last year that rewarded you with only a B.
"I won't tell anyone." He says, and your own voice echoes in your mind after telling him the same thing just the other day at your house. "I would have by now if I was going to."
"Why do you care?" You bite back, defensiveness being your go to weapon in a war of self-preservation.
He wants to spit at you that he doesn't, but that's a lie he couldn't even dream of in this moment. You'd storm out, probably never talk to him again, and that idea hurt him. "I want to help you."
"Well, not much anyone can do now is there?" You reply, attempting to move on. "Let's look around." You try and change the subject, give yourself an outlet to walk away, but this doesn't work as Coryo is grabbing your wrist, stopping you from taking another step.
"You can help by ignoring it." You sigh, his blue eyes just staring as he scrambled to find the right thing to say. "By not treating me like I'm going to break at every turn. How does that sound?"
He opens his mouth to speak but he doesn't, slightly shaking his head. He wants to release his grip on your wrist, tense and tight with urgency, but how could he without giving you the idea he thinks he's hurting you? He slides his hand into yours, holding his breath. "I apologize. It's not what I intended."
Now it's your turn to be speechless, staring down at your hands locked together.
"I just wanted to keep you safe." He explains, dancing around the idea even in his own mind that maybe he cares for you more than he should. "After Arachne, and after Clemensia, and now the Ring twins and Felix still fighting in that hospital bed it's so obvious to me that we are far from safe in this. We always were."
Your brow furrows. "What happened to Clem?"
"Dr. Gaul..." He takes in a deep breath. "One of her experiments, Clemensia has been in the hospital for days and she has these scales growing all over her and I thought I watched her die and then you almost died and-"
"Hey, hey, woah-" You cut him off, stepping closer again and not daring to drop his hand as he begins to crumble in front of you. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
He just nods, attempting to swallow back the fear in his voice.
"Okay. So, we've made it this far. You'll get that prize, we'll move on. Next year it will be someone else's problem. You will be safe." You say, squeezing his hand gently. "We're almost done, just a few more days."
His mouth is dry, and despite his heart racing, he knows you are right. After tonight, you won't be face-to-face with the tributes again. Neither of you will be in harm's way anymore, at least, not due to the games. Life will return to normal for you, and he will claim the prize he is owed and his life will change for the better. You won't be bringing him food every day, and you won't both be stressing over how to best prepare Lucy Gray. The tightness in his chest returns as his thoughts devolve- will he miss you?
It catches you off guard when he pulls you into a hug. Tight, panicked, heavy under the weight of all the tragedy and grief the two of you walk around with day to day. There is no one who gets him quite like you do. This time, he rests his chin on your head as your arms wrap around his waist, hands overlapping on his back. No, it's not enough. He tilts his head down so he can feel the warmth of you on his cheek, holding you tight as he takes in the scent of your hair. It's not roses, not like his mother's powder or what's left of her clothes in the Snow apartment, it's fresh. The smell of whatever soap you use doesn't demand to be noticed and inhaled, it's mostly full of you. Raspberries. That's it- it's raspberries mixed with you.
"We're almost done..." You whisper again, gently rubbing his back now in reassurance. He wonders, could you not feel the weight of everything? Of both of your entire lives barreling toward you all at once? Of course not. You were Y/N Y/L/N, you could only feel the pain of others; altruism drips out of every ounce of your being despite your habit of lashing out. Of course, you couldn't see it. You only saw him right now. Not his fear of losing you.
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strawberryspence · 1 year
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Okay yeah this is going to be corny whatever. They deserve the corniness. Eddie calls Steve sweetheart and yeah, Steve loves every bit of it. But the first time Steve calls Eddie a petname, Eddie freezes and he tears up.
Steve has been calling him Eds since they became friends and Eddie loves it. Only Steve calls him that and it's a nickname for his nickname.
Eddie also knows that Steve wants to call him something. They once talked about it when they start dating. Eddie explaining to him why he calls Steve sweetheart. Steve said nothing was good enough for Eddie, baby or babe is sweet but it's just not Eddie. He wants it to be good because Eddie calls him sweetheart and means it.
The thing is Steve doesn't know this kind of love. He grew up alone, with parents who showed him that love was sleeping in two separate rooms and still going together out of town, with parents who forgot holidays and birthdays. He's only starting to learn what love is after Nancy, the real one, without bullshit, with the help of the kids, and Robin and Eddie.
Eddie's kind, has the kindest heart Steve's seen on anyone. He's been given the toughest shit from a young age with his family situation, struggling to be gay and being bullied. The whole Vecna debacle proves this, like what town goes after one guy without zero evidence? Despite all that Eddie is still kind. He forgives Steve, without a moment of hesitation, when Steve apologizes for all the shit he did in high school. He helps the old lady at the grocery store even if she lectures him about satanism. He helps swing the random kid on the swing even if their mom glares at him. He can't adopt random pets, but he has about 6 cats he has to feed everyday. Steve sees it everyday.
Eddie's gentle. Yeah, laugh it up. But he is, Steve says. He hides it well, Steve will give that to him. Eddie's gentle in his black shirt, ripped jeans, dark eyeliner, rings that could make your nose bleed and a tough exterior that could scare you away. But he is gentle. Gentle with the way he holds Steve when the nightmares catch up on him, the way he paints miniature figurines, the way he draws on El's tattoo with a marker, no matter how many times it has been, the way he wakes up Wayne, always with a cup of coffee. Steve sees it everyday.
Eddie's brave. He still doesn't believe Steve that he is, some days he believes it, but there are days that he still doesn't. Still regrets running away from Chrissy and not helping Fred. Steve reassures him that he is brave. He is brave in the way he loves so loudly and so openly. He is brave with the way he expresses his true self so freely without fear. He was brave, when he followed them to the Upside Down, was brave with Chrissy and Fred, was brave in his almost last moment. He is brave for continuing to fight every day. Steve sees it everyday.
Eddie's a lot of good things, and Steve can list it all in one sitting if he wants to.
Steve's watching the latest episode of Golden Girls when the timer beeps. Eddie's in the kitchen, sitting on the breakfast bar, writing like a maniac for the next campaign.
"Eds! Can you please get the cookies? I don't want to get up! The guy Rose slept with died on her bed!" He can hear Eddie laughing from the kitchen as he shouts an Okay.
Steve's immersed on the episode's story, just as Eddie comes waltzing into the room, gloved hand holding the tray full of cookies.
"Sweetheart, the cookies came out good!"
Steve nods, he doesn't even look at the tray, not wanting to miss a piece of this episode, "I know."
Eddie cackles, setting the tray at the coffee table, "Can I have one? Or is it only for annoying, invasive 16 year olds?"
Steve snickers, still not paying attention, "Of course you can have one, love."
Eddie freezes, just standing there, one hand reaching for a cookie, one hand still wearing the mittens. Steve immediately clocks this, is it Vecna again? That can't be they killed him.
"What? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Eddie nods, but something is wrong, Steve knows because Eddie's tearing up. He hits mute on the tv, focusing his full attention to Eddie. He'll just watch it on a rerun.
"What happened? You're scaring me, love." Eddie makes another chocked out sound, collapsing beside Steve as Steve scoops him into his arms.
"You... You called me love."
And yeah, Steve did. He didn't plan it, it wasn't even on the list of petnames when Steve was deliberating what to call Eddie. It just slipped out.
But it made so much sense. Love is... love is the warmth of a cup that says "worlds best uncle" full of coffee in the morning. It's the soft, worn out yellow sweater you wear on bad days. It's the beat you tap your hands to, a song that saved your lives. It's fresh baked cookies. It's in kind gestures, gentle hugs and brave actions.
Love is kind and gentle and brave. Love is who Eddie Munson is.
"Yeah... I guess I did."
Eddie smiles at him, tears still brimming in his eyes as they look at each other.
He looks soft. Maybe Steve will add that to the list of what love means for him. Soft.
"You still want that cookie, love?"
Eddie nods, "Please, sweetheart."
Steve sees it everyday. He sees love. He wakes up with it everyday, cooks with it, sleeps with it, reads with it.
Yeah, love really is the perfect petname for Eddie.
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actual-changeling · 8 months
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if god did not want me to over-analyse a two second video clip she would not have given me video editing software, so welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner with me, alex, as your host.
we're going off the deep end with this one.
let's have a look at a. well, you cannot really call it a scene at this point. more of a collection of frames - aziraphale's face right after crowley leaves but before the bell above the door rings. this has been on my list of metas to write anyway, but someone kindly pointed it out which gave me incentive to make this post.
now, my leading theory is that much like his mouth movement before saying "i forgive you", which looked and sounded a lot like the beginning of "i love you", aziraphale is mouthing a silent "don't". presumably, the complete sentence would have been "don't leave".
first things first, why do i think he would say it? well, if you look back at their breakup in the park in season one, aziraphale calls him back when he says he will leave.
"you can't leave, crowley, there isn't anywhere to go".
then, after the fucking mess that is "nothing lasts forever", aziraphale also calls out. "come back". it is also perfectly in line with his previous behaviour to try and keep crowley from leaving again. especially because he almost tells the metatron he will stay just a few minutes later.
some other important things to keep in mind: aziraphale is shaking and about to cry, and also probably still in shock. so his face is doing a number of things and any words he may or may not mouth are slightly skewed due to that.
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the first few frames are him taking a breath, so far so good.
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this is the part where it looks like he is about to say something and silently begins to mouth don't. if you pay very close attention to his lips, you can see that they get pushed forward just a little bit as one does when saying "do".
you can try it yourself to confirm, i certainly did several times while rewatching the same two seconds like an absolutely sane person.
the last few frames are him closing his mouth again and breaking off whatever he was going to say, but in my opinion, you can still see the ending of that "don't".
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alex, you might ask, how do you know that's what he was trying to say? i don't, although i hope once the strike ends someone will ask michael sheen some much needed questions. however, i wouldn't be a scientist if i didn't have evidence to present nevertheless.
i compared two of the frames from above, one from the "do" part and one from the "nt" part with another instance of michael/aziraphale saying "don't" - "i don't think you understand what i'm offering you".
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the mouth shape and the movement of his facial muscles looks very similar even taking the whole sobbing and crying business into account.
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interestingly enough, once the bell does ring, signaling that crowley has left the store, he not only closes his mouth but also physically steps back even more. he almost says "don't leave", restrains himself by physically pulling back, and then inches even farther from the door.
that is also when his face shifts from completely openly heartbroken to angry/spiteful and heartbroken.
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the camera angle changes a little bit but not enough to explain the discrepancy, so yes, he steps backward before turning away and touching his lips. that pillar is honestly a very helpful point of reference. also completely unrelated but the face he makes at the end cracks me up it is LITERALLY >:(
to summarize: someone get michael sheen on the fucking phone before i lose my mind. also you can pry this meta from my dead, cold hands, he almost said "don't leave" and i will die on this hill.
lastly, said two second clip at half speed if you want to have a look for yourself.
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digenerate-trash · 5 months
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Yandere Teachers!!! (who are also freaks) 
Sirris
Sirris is the cool teacherTM but that's only because he's hiding the fact that he's a freak from everyone. 
he's got a regular hook-up with some random once a month he pays them to film them having sex for his sex ed classes. But since he's met you he's stopped that. Now he only wants to make amateur porn with one person now and he's going to do it one way or another
Will drug you. Says it's for pain but he's just a big fan of seeing you drooling with your eyes rolled back. 
Tones of pictures. Never of your face. He doesn't want any evidence against him.
Very adamant that your relationship (if you can call it that) stays hidden. Never even touches you on school property. 
Would absolutely fist-fight Leighton in the parking lot if he found out about anything that freak does to you. 
Very adamant that you and Sydney get along. If you don't get along he's first going to try and convince Sydney to change to fit you better and if that doesn't work he's going to force you to change to get along with Sydney.
Obsessed with ass. I can't explain it. 
Very clean. 
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Mason
Mason is pretty gentle and because of that, he's not too forward with you. 
it's a lot of staring though. Like to much
At school, he's very interested in only school topics. But at the lake, he's more interested in talking to you. 
Man loves his exercise and wants you to do it too. Wants to keep you healthy. 
Mans is a big puppy. 
He will try and get his scent onto you, especially after swimming lessons. 
He refrains from touching you a lot because even the feeling of you is enough to get him going. 
Absolutely will fuck you at the lake and nowhere else. it's where he feels the most safe
Mason’s fucking is always very rough and brutal. You covered in marks bites scratches and hickeys
Will take you for coffee afterward and apologize for being too rough. He just gets carried away too easily. 
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River
Dude has no boundaries when he comes to terms that he's obsessed with you. 
He finally has the guts to get Whitney suspended when he sees the bully's hands on you. It wasn't easy but he did it. 
Still believes in using a ruler as punishment but quickly stops when you moan. 
Chasity belt chafes his dick every time it gets too close to him. 
He never wants to defile you. Wants to believe that you are a precious little virgin that has never touched anyone. 
he's happy when you show up to help at the soup kitchen. But now he has to protect you here as well. 
Will hit other staff with anything he's got close by if he catches them staring. 
No one dares hit him back when he's doing the same thing. 
Man is so pent-up. Even god is placing bets on when he's going to ditch his vow to wreck you. 
Winter 
Very old-fashioned. Wants a traditional wife/spouse to dote on and care for. Thinks you are the perfect person for that life no matter what you are actually like. 
Constantly keeping you after class. He keeps telling you that your grades are slipping no matter how hard you try you can't seem to fix it. 
Absolutely offers a “favors” for “favors” deal. 
Even if you refuse you getting bent over his desk and fucked. Dude is like a man possessed and then when he's done he kicks you out. 
This can happen several days a week he's started putting up a “back in 20” sign up when you walk in. 
Sadistic streek. 
Loves having you visit the museum. There's always something new for you to try out. 
Big bondage fan. Adores what you look like in ropes. The pillory. Ect. basically, whenever you're helpless he gets stupid hard. 
he's gonna fuck you in all of his little replica contraptions. don't fight it. 
If you do though get ready for him to literally whip you. 
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Doren (Written by @degrees-of-fuck please give them lots of love they were very nice to help me with this!!!)
Big Warped Protectiveness vibes I think, paired with a short fuse and a tendency to go a bit fuckoff wild when the line is crossed. Doren’s like this at the best of times but Yandoren is gonna need to be held back from all these assault charges calling for him.
Wants you to like and trust him!! He has your best interests at heart! He’ll keep you safe from this world! And also maybe enable you a little. I don’t think he quite consciously puts together what he’s doing when he as your teacher is positioning himself as your friendly protector who always has space for you in his home for these reasons. It’s fine when he does it because he’s not a bad person and he doesn’t want to hurt you! Not grooming, nuh-uh. Regardless, I think he’d prefer it if any involvement between the two of you had technically been your idea…
Yandoren Could maaaaaybe be tempted to spend just a little more time at home by you visiting him often enough, but I mostly imagine him coming up with excuses to invite you along to… Whatever it is he does, when it’s possible - so he doesn’t have to worry about what could be happening to you out there or about you showing up to class covered in others’ fluids again.
If yall fuckin, you NEED to be like, physically ‘on top’ or your ass is getting SMOTHERED. 
Goes the fuck off on roleplaying and dirty talk probably. Let him have his sex soliloquy he NEEDS IT. I’m not sure it can be prevented.
I have an image in my head of him doing a soliloquy that gets increasingly frantic before he just fucking goes apeshit on you. IS he a werewolf? I dunno. But it’s times like this when the rumor comes to mind.
Tight protective bear hugs, that can get GENUINELY QUITE PAINFUL depending on his mood.
I have an image of him fucking prowling the schoolyard to keep an eye on you. Freak.
This story probably ends with him getting done for assault or manslaughter ngl. Maybe you can go on the lam together. Romantic! :)))
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trlvsn · 1 year
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phoenix wright making apollo justice present forged evidence is, as rightfully rage-inducing as it is, also perfectly understandable and even justifiable to an extent. in this essay i will not cut my introduction off with an old-fashioned tumblr punchline and will actually elaborate on why i think so and what i think about phoenix wright in general.
the first few paragraphs will be rather surface-level, but bear with me: i'm writing this in one breath. it has already been established that the change in phoenix's character was so big and shocking that the fandom is still actively discussing it and making theories. i have seen people compare his sprites with mia and diego, kristoph and miles, yanni yogi and many others, and every single on of them is, in in my opinion, correct: there are actual similarities between them, intentional or not. i believe it can all be explained with two simple statements. one: phoenix is a sponge of a man. even before aa4, we frequently see him adopt mannerisms and figures of speech from the people he encounters. he learns, he absorbs, he changes, but only for a short while, as he stays true to his motivations, passions and drive. two: the seven years of being watched by kristoph and collecting data made him turn to that mimicking quality of his and use it as a weapon. phoenix wright could not afford to reveal his true motivations, therefore, he could not reveal what he was in general. it's a simple metaphor, really.
did he get lost in the deceptions somewhere along the way? absolutely. "what tangled webs we weave when we practice to deceive", a line said by him about kristoph, can easily be applied to phoenix. this is where the bloody ace comes in. incidentally, he is given the idea by zak: he is the one who says one can't win unless there's a ace up their sleeve, and, no matter how much of an influence that particular phrase had on wright, he follows the principle. here is phoenix's first motive for forging the ace: insurance. without concrete, dooming evidence, a trial could not end in his favor at the time. phoenix wright, post-disbarment, is no longer a man who relies on bluffs and "just believing in the client", he is strongly dissapointed in the system, outraged, offended, hurt, wounded, and he does not trust it at all, hence the dirty tricks. you can't just play fair against something unfair and win.
what i find far more interesting however, are his other motives. if the only thing that drive him to forgery was distrust and carefulness, he would have shared the plan with apollo or, perhaps, done something similar to the turnabout succession trial, where the letter is shown to the culprit, but never submitted as evidence and quickly admitted as a fake. really, i believe he is smart enough to find other ways. however, he doesn't. he gives the ace to apollo in a very specific way: through trucy wright, not a word of proper explanation. why is that? he is teaching apollo a lesson.
clearly, something about apollo reminds phoenix of himself. a young, bright, nervous mind, fighting for the truth and justice, full of belief, a little naive. phoenix knows what that naivety cost him, and he destroys it right away, because then it will hurt less, he thinks. the forged ace is a vaccine of sorts: you will experience some minor symptoms, but no actual serious consequences, and it will hurt for a moment, but for the rest of your life, you will never catch that sickness again. phoenix is already planning the jurist system reform and has already planned how this trial will go: the environment is controlled and safe for apollo, he will not get disbarred. if the truth is revealed later, under the new system, surely apollo won't be receiving the same harsh punishment wright did. so here you go, kid, learn your lesson, punch a lawyer or two in the face, and never ever, ever trust anyone like that ever again.
but wait, if the truth does get revealed, who will be receiving the punishment for it? of course, the man who forged the evidence, phoenix wright. here comes the third reason: punishment.
remember the class trial? young phoenix wright, blamed for a crime he didn't commit, overwhelmed and crying. what does the abandoned child do when the whole class accuses him of stealing? he stands up slowly and comes up to the kid with the grey hair to apologize for the money he stole but did not steal. he admits it. it doesn't matter what the truth is anymore, because if everyone thinks you did it, you might as well have.
you might as well do it again, for real this time, and maybe a weight will fall off your shoulders, because what you see in yourself will finally match the image the whole world has of you.
phoenix wright is working on the jurist system. phoenix wright is a father and phoenix wright is someone who will do his best to put kristoph gavin to jail. that doesn't mean phoenix wright sees any other use or future for himself. it simply does not matter. well, by the end of the first case, anyway.
he gathers more evidence. he thinks, a lot. he gives apollo advice on the cases, inevitability reminiscing. the new system is a success. in a new, better world, maybe he will take some piano lessons: he has grown tired of pretending he can play. he has grown tired of pretending in general. hell, maybe he will even take the bar exam again.
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door430 · 4 months
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AvA 6 Theories/Thoughts
It's been a hot minute since part 2 of AvA 6 came out, but the physics video prompted a cascade of thoughts and theories that I could not get out of my head, so here we go. This is gonna be a long one.
Theory 1: The mercenaries are victims of TCO and TDL
This theory has been circulating for a bit, but there are a couple points of evidence that I want to bring up.
1 - The mercenaries look very different from any sticks we've met before, and very different from each other, so it's likely they come from different places very far away from each other. This would line up with this theory if they were forced to evacuate. Their fighting skills also explain how they were able to survive Dark and Chosen's attacks.
2 - All the mercenaries, but Agent Smith especially, seem almost like they're toying with Chosen while chasing them down. It's even brought up by DJ in the AvG Reacts video that Smith could've paused TCO at pretty much any time, as if he was just messing around. Even if the pause button only works at short range, Smith seems competent enough to be able to use it if he wanted to. He chooses to use regular attacks instead of just using pause, or even the lasso or select tools, and that seems to point towards some sort of grudge.
Theory 2: TSC and victim parallel each other
In the physics video, I'm sure everyone saw the yoyo and thought of victim with the lasso. But I'm taking it a step further and saying that they're going to be parallels of each other in AvA 6.
1 - Victim very clearly parallels the Alan we see in the first AvA. He uses the same animator tools, particularly the lasso, and he uses the same tactic of keeping his victim trapped so they can't escape. Additionally, the way he easily creates clones and lets them die seems very similar to Alan's original thoughts about stick figures - not seeing them as living things.
2 - Second also parallels Alan from AvA 1, though he seems kinder than Alan was to victim. He uses the pencil to create life just as we see Alan do with the sticks, and like Alan originally was, he seems unaware/in denial that his creations are alive. However, we see that after the workers erase the eel he created, he looks at the pencil as if contemplating the morality of creating life just to kill it.
3 - Victim and Second are often used as foils to each other in fandom works, and for good reason! Second is everything that victim couldn't have, and victim is everything Second doesn't want to be. Victim was deprived of a good life, friends, family, and powers, all of which are things Second has in spades. Of course victim would despise Second for that! On the other hand, Second is shown to be very heroic, striving to do the right thing, and in part 2, he reflects upon his actions, not just with the eel, but with his powers, too, when he discovers he has them. Victim is not heroic, kind, or self-reflective at all, setting them up as obvious foils.
Theory 3: Victim won't be redeemed
This is more of a hypothesis than a theory, but hear me out.
1 - Second is very clearly set up to be the protagonist and hero of AvA 6. If he goes through an arc of realizing the thing's he's done wrong, just like Alan did, I doubt victim's story will end the same way. Victim actively chooses to be oblivious to the consequences of his actions, and he very clearly does not want to become a better person.
2 - Victim's name is more than just a name; he sees himself as the victim in his story. In victim's eyes, Alan hurt him, therefore he has the right to hurt Alan back. He chooses not to see the horrible things he's doing because that would ruin his picture-perfect narrative where he's just a victim of his own circumstances who isn't responsible for any of the hurt he causes because Alan hurt him first. He believes every lie he tells himself.
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ddejavvu · 9 months
Note
Congrats on 20k!! 'Finger lickin' good'--Can I get Steve Harrington, smitten and taking an equally smitten reader home from a party? Could it even get a little spicy 👀?
join my 20K celebration!
'it's finger lickin' good.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)
baby i'm sorry i had a vision for this and then it veered completely off course! it's still the same general plotline but it's a lot more giggly than it is sexy and i'm sorry about that </3 i hope you still enjoy!
--
You nearly giggle yourselves off of the steps of the porch, landing hard on your feet so that your ankles ache for a second. Steve sways into you, his arm around your shoulders as he drops his empty cup on the lawn.
"Steve! Litterbug," You accuse, and he snorts like it's the funniest thing in the world.
"This is Andy's house," He explains, like that makes it okay to throw trash on the ground, "He deserves it."
"Is that your car?" You point at the first one you see, and he shakes his head.
"No, mine's red."
"That one?" You point at the next red one down the street, but he reacts the same.
"No, I'm in a beamer."
"Is that... that one?" You point across the street, at a brown car that's parked in a house's driveway. Steve isn't sure why you think it's his, it's not a BMW and it's not red, but it strikes his funny bone again, and he laughs higher-pitched than normal.
"No," He pinches your side, and you shriek, nearly collapsing into his hold. He catches you, and it's all the more funny now, meaning you're stumbling down the sidewalk trying not to tip into the street.
"I'm down there," He points behind you two, then seems to realize, "Wait- we're- we're going the wrong way."
You have to sit down to stop yourself from falling over with laughter. Everything is funnier after four full cups of jungle juice, and you clutch at Steve's ankle as you feel a tear escape your eye.
"Shut up!' He urges, swatting gently at your head, "Don't- don't laugh! You didn't know either."
"I want- I want you to carry me, Stevie~," You croon, giggling up at him with tear-lined eyes from how hard you've been struck by the situation, "Please? I might fall down."
"What-? I'm drunk," He grumbles, like you don't know it, "Okay, just don't- don't fall, okay?"
"Okay." You nod, letting him wrestle you into his grip. It's hard not being in complete control of all of your limbs, but you manage to get your uncoordinated arms wrapped around his neck, and your legs around his waist.
Steve starts back down the road towards his car, but evidently you'd strayed too far down the street for the neighbor's dog's liking, and he manages to slip through a gap in the fence to head for Steve.
At first, you think he might be territorial and angry. You yelp, tightening your grip around Steve and trying to hoist yourself up his torso. But Steve scrambles to balance the both of you while also darting away from the animal, and it means his hands land directly on your ass. You don't admonish him, because you really don't care, and the dog is still trotting your way.
Upon a second glance, he's relaxed, merely curious as to why there's so many people in the house next door. You decide you want to pet him, though, and you lean over Steve's shoulder to do so. It means that your ass is in his face, and the skirt you'd elected to wear is giving him quite the show.
"Puppy!" You coo, reaching eagerly for the dog that leans into your hands with several giddy wags of its tail. Steve's having the hardest time keeping the two of you steady while also being considerate enough not to ogle the thin strip of fabric just barely covering your butt beneath your skirt, and he's sure you can feel how flushed his cheeks are from how one presses into the left side of your ass.
"Steve," You laugh, as the dog licks the palm of your hand, "He's friendly! Pet him with me, please?"
"Honey, I can't," Steve grits his teeth as you lean further towards the animal, nearly pitching yourself off of his shoulder, "Can you- can you stand up?"
"No, I'm okay!" You report happily, like he was asking for your comfort's sake, "Keep going, Stevie! Let's see if we can lure him into the car."
"He's not yours, is he?" Steve muses, trekking down the street with more difficulty than he'd like to admit. A pair of guys pass the two of you, and he nearly drops you in trying to smooth your skirt down to a reasonable length so that they can't stare.
"He will be once we get him in the car, c'mon, puppy!" You kiss at the animal, speaking to Steve in your normal voice afterwards, "Finders keepers, Stevie. Oh, but you have to keep him at your house. My parents don't like dogs."
"Oh, really?" He's panting slightly as he sets you down with your back against the window of his car, and he finally gets a good look at the yellow lab you're lured away from his home. He looks happy to be there, eagerly accepting a pat on the head from Steve.
"Yeah. And- um, do you know how to get to my house? I forgot."
"No," He breathes, "You'll remember tomorrow. You said you'd come to mine, remember?"
"Oh, yeah!" You brighten, "But I don't know the way to your house, either."
"I do," He laughs, scratching the dog behind the ears when it noses at his fingers. But he sends him off with a pat to the side, "'Kay, g'home, dog. Let's go, okay?"
"But- my puppy!" You watch aghast as the dog follows orders, tucking his head down towards the ground and trotting back home, "Steve, you're mean."
"It's not- no I'm not!" He urges, "That's not your dog!"
"I wanted him to be," You lament, "Can we stop by the animal shelter on the way home? I wanna get a dog."
"You said-" Steve can't quite remember what you said, actually, he just knows there's a reason why that won't work, "Uh- sure. Yeah, but they're- I think they're closed."
"Tomorrow?" You ask hopefully, and he nods, completely on board with whatever will make the slight pout to your lips disappear.
"Yeah, tomorrow," He unlocks his door, popping the lock on your own side up just after, "Just hop in, we'll do whatever you want, babe."
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Text
Midsummers
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TW: Brief angst. Smut. Language.  DOM!Rafe.
SUMMARY: The night that was supposed to be the one you'd always dreamed of takes an unexpected, and erotic, turn, with an unexpected person. 
WORD COUNT: 2700
REQUESTED:
hiii i have a rafe request if you get the chance!! maybe a sarah’s friend reader who gets cheated on by jj, so sarah makes rafe ask her to midsummers and things get spicy!? love your writing💕🥰
Midsummers
You had spent the last two weeks barreling through boutique after boutique just to get the perfect dress for tonight. Where others would use tonight to display their riches through some ensemble or conversation about upcoming events within their lives, you had articulated every detail to raise your confidence enough to finally act on your crush. But as you stood before the mirror with Sarah's encouraging words swirling in your mind, you were blissfully unaware of the second set of eyes that had made note of you. Still a set of eyes wore the same Cameron name, but not the ones you expected. And ones you never noticed having observed you this way. Just as they always had. 
"Whoa!" Topper exclaimed as you emerged from within the rear of the Island Inn Resort where the annual Midsummers event was being held. 
"I just saw him..." Sarah explained as you looked at the small collective of pogues banding together once JJ happened to draw the attention of one of the security guards. But as you'd hoped to have finally had a chance to express your unwavering feelings for him, you watched him dote over Kiara. The way she stood up for him. The way he wrapped her into a spin as she left the scene had been enough to not only squander your feelings for him but also any possibility of him learning of why you'd spent so much time in an appearance you usually left decorated barely. 
"All pogues are idiots." Rafe's voice sent your hand to your cheeks to quickly brush away any  evidence of your heartache. 
"They shouldn't even be allowed on the property...broke so many glasses that Rose is going to have a conniption." You scoffed at this as you saw the beginning of this take hold as she was just in earshot to hear her rage against members of the help. 
"Drink?" He offered as you looked at the bottle he'd hijacked from behind the bar and considered the numb feeling it could offer. But much like a crush, you knew the risk and ride was not worth the hangover the next day. 
"I think I'll just go home..."
"What? No! At least not until you dance with me.'
"Rafe Cameron doesn't dance."
"He does right now." He stood, extending his hand as you led him towards the remainder of the guests before he pulled you back towards him. 
"For you." A soft sway began with the distant music supplying the perfect ambiance for what should have been a pristine romantic moment. But in your attempts to feel such things, you would be met with that dull ache of a broken heart. Yet, there existed a comfort in his arms. A safety. All because he was the friend you'd known and appreciated, even despite his flaws. The soft pattern of his heartbeat existed as a lullaby of sorts to your tired pain as you basked in it as long as you could. 
"Guys like JJ can't appreciate beautiful things..." Rafe explained as he'd pulled away from you just long enough to brush a hair from your cheek. 
"They just taint it...But...Can I ask you something?" You nodded, his soft eyes suddenly evading your own. 
"I overheard you and Sarah...all the shit you did for him tonight...and...I just...why him? I mean you could have any guy here...So...why some pogue who doesn't even notice it?"
"Because I don't want to be stuck, Rafe. I can see it in so many people here. The way they look deadpanned at everything and... they're miserable and it's terrifying. So I want a love, even for just the summer, that I can look back on and know it's possible...even if it hurts." 
"And you thought Maybank was that?"
"I hoped." Suddenly Rafe surprised you, a hand set on either cheek as his steps stopped. 
"What if someone felt the same about you? Maybe someone you didn't...notice?"
"Rafe?" His lips rushed against yours. 
He was a friend. He was your best friend's brother. But he was also always there when you needed him. He was a source of a smile when your cheeks were stained with tears. He was those arms you ran to when you had moments like this. Most of them having been founded on convenient timing or the fact Sarah was busy. But you'd never thought of him beyond those former titles. Because of what he was. Forbidden. A risk. And yet, the way he held you now, you would wage war against the world to keep his touch to you. 
His fingers were behaved at your hips but informing you of his need as he dug into the satin fabric beneath the curved fingertips. Once he was relieved to find your response to him, he used that grip to bring you harder into him. A tongue brushing your bottom lip sent your lips into a delicate part whereas your fingers became wrapped around the lapels of his suit, leading him even closer. 
"Rafe-" The breathless sound of his name led him to need more of you. All of you. But he was too impatient to guide you to any of the room of the hotel. Instead, he pulled you to the direction of the nearby wall where he could bask in your winded pattern of attempted breathing. 
"The first thing he should have done was told you how beautiful you look..." He explained while his hands moved down from your cheeks and to your hips, tracing over your breasts with a sinister grin that informed you that he knew his exact effect on you. 
"I watched you stand in front of that mirror fixing every hair...every line made in the dress as you checked yourself from every angle. All wanting to look perfect for someone who isn't deserving of seeing you in this dress...much less out of it..." Your cheeks flushed in crimson as your lips parted to speak. 
"I want to earn it. Even if it takes all night...I want to earn each and every one of those little moans and whimpers he'll never know..." Your eyes widened before he kissed you again. This time, one hand at your breast as the other lowered between your legs. A slit of your dress made this possible as you relaxed your stance, only to feel it then tighten from his touch. He teased your sex over your clothed clit before setting your leg at his hip. His thumb brushed the sight of your panties, possible from this angle and the fit of your dress. 
"You chose blue for him? Be honest." You nodded before he suddenly tore them from your hip. A gasp emerged behind illuminated yet lust blown eyes. 
"You wear red for me. Or you wear nothing." His hand took a form but cautious hold of your jaw. "If you choose nothing, you're giving every consent to let me touch you when I want. And I'll take it. Whenever. Wherever..." 
"Please..." Your cheeks became feverish from his words. The simple idea of him, in any context, was unbelievable. And yet, he was the salve to your raw wound. 
"You think I'd let anyone else see that face right now...let alone when you come? I don't think so...I've earned it...why do they get to enjoy it?"
"Please, Rafe...I'll be quiet." To this, his lips spread into a wide grin. 
"You don't understand. I want you to scream for me...only me." He led the hand to your face down to your hand before he collected your panties and brought you into the heart of the hotel. Guests who knew both of your families had attempted to stop you, but Rafe made an excuse you did care to note. 
"You got a room?" You asked as he pinned you against the door as it came open, the sound access granted by an electronic click making your heart skip in excitement. 
"The suite for the chair of the committee. It's Rose's niece's...but she's busy with Kelce...So tonight… it's ours and you're mine." He paused for a second. 
"If you want to be. You get one chance to walk away-" 
"I don't want to."
"I can't promise to be gentle..." You took a step closer to him, hands back on the lapels of his suit. 
"I don't want gentle. I want..."
"I'll give you everything you've ever wanted. All you have to do is say it." He explained. 
"You." He collected you into a tender kiss as your fingers were desperate to assess him. The stone torso beneath rose with humor validated from a smirk. 
"We have all night..."
"I need to feel you...all of you.." He grunted. 
"Take this dress off. Slowly." You bit your bottom lip as he pulled his cufflinks loose. Your eyes remained on his before he moved to you again. 
"I changed my mind, turn around." You obliged, now facing the bed as you felt him remove your zipper. Your breath hitched to the bare skin kissed by the backs of his knuckles. 
"He doesn't deserve to see you like this..." He explained as you turned to face him. 
"Jesus..." He released a deep exhale as you ran your hands at his naked torso. But as you tried to adore his physique as you allowed him, your wrists were bound. But only for a breath as he led you towards the bed. 
"You're so fucking beautiful. I could stare at you all night. But I've done that for the last five years...I think my patience should be rewarded." Before you could speak, you were taken to the bed until his weight pinned you beneath him. You were pulled to his desire, hands set over your head. 
"Don't move them unless it's to grip the sheets." You nodded as he began a trail of kisses from your jaw to your navel, taking a moment to appreciate each breast. 
"I didn't think you'd grip them quite yet...'
"But your hands feel so good..."
"I'm just getting started, baby..." He continued his descent until he came over your sex. His breath leaving you cold beneath as he smirked  to the way you groaned for him. The expression of necessity making him lick his lips. 
"You can be as loud as you want for me. Don't insult me by trying to be all ladylike..." He offered one final cast of the raise of his grin before his tongue came to your clit. 
"You already taste so good for me...all for me." You nodded as you reached for his hair, his body quickly returning your hands over your head. 
"You only pull when you're about to come...you're already so wet it's hard to tell." Your eyes rolled as he projected his ringed finger inside of you while his tongue returned to work. 
"Rafe!" You belted. 
"Mmm... you taste so good..." He retreated, pulling your legs wider as you fisted into the sheets above your head. 
"You really think Maybank would know how to make you grip those sheets like that?" 
"No!"
"Prove it...Say my name again. Just as desperately as before. Like you want him to hear you." As you agreed by doing exactly as he asked, he smirked into you as he built you to that orgasm. 
"How do you wanna come-"
"I don't care!" 
"I'm only going to be able to let you do it once before I need to. So tell me-"
"Right here! Don't stop!"
He teased a lick of his lips before nodding. His motions were slowed but thorough as he was a means to the way of your release. 
"Rafe!"
"You know what to do if you're close." Whimpering behind a bottom lip clenched by your teeth, you tugged tightly as his hair now disheveled by your grip. 
"Come on my face, baby..." He spoke quickly, returning to you once again as your hips were held down by his grip as you lost control in the waves made by your back. Arching and clenching, whimpering and pleading, all until you spilled over his grin. He looked at you with a wide grin. .
"Oh baby...you made such a big mess..." His smirk widened even further. 
"I want an even bigger one on my cock." He turned you to your stomach, kissing you in a rather awkward but adjusted bend, as you were taken upwards.
"This ass is almost perfect..." A slap made you yelp as his lips nearly reached his ears with pride. 
"Now it is. My handprint right here..." He rugged the assaulted skin. "Just as it should be." 
"You want my cock baby? How about we beg one more time for me? Yeah? Just one?" He almost latinized as you nodded. 
"Please, Rafe. I need you inside me..." 
"Then put me there..." He teased you with his naked cock, a motion you were too wrapped in your own bliss to notice he'd made. 
"Good girl. You know where it goes...slowly...I could come with how fucking wet and tight you already are..." You struggled to keep your moans compressed as you guided him into you. 
"Bring it back slowly baby..." He orchestrated you through his order as he guided your hair into his fist and pulled you to his chest. 
"You feel that right there?" He flexed his cock inside of you,making you shudder. .
"This is how it should always be. When it isn't in your mouth or hand..." 
"Rafe-" 
"But for right now...you're gonna prove I'm the one you're thinking of. So make me come...and maybe I'll let you just one more time..." 
"Ahhh..." You began to main as he brought you into a steady rhythm you were guided to upkeep.  Your eyes rolled to how deep and full he left you feeling the walls of your sex clenching to him just as gluttonous as his nails had been to you. 
"Fuck! You feel like heaven..." You moaned. "Faster..." You obliged, your body moving in slow strides to him, accelerating to this request. 
"Rafe please!"
"What are you begging for? If you want something, you can get it, baby...just ask..."
"Fuck me?"
"Like you mean it..."
"Fuck me, Rafe!"
"Here?" He asked, a harsh thrust stilling your movements as he continued to tease you. 
"Oh, you wanna come again? Isn't that a bit greedy?"
"I don't care...you feel so good...please..." 
"With a hand wrapped around your breast, he pulled you even closer to him. 
"You haven't even felt me here..." He explained while brushing your bottom lip. 
"Next time. I wanna feel you come inside me! Please!" You shook over him as he smirked. 
"Who am I to deny to my girl?" He began steady but unkind. Harsh thrusts led him pounding into you as the bed squeaked at mercy. Care and compassion were damned as you were taken to the crest of that second high and he was at the precipice of his first. 
"You feel so damn good, I could come inside you all night."
"Yes! Please!"
"Let's see how you handle one...you're already shaking for me baby..."
"I'm close!"
"No you're not." He explained until he began making small circles at your clit. 
"Now you are..." He smirked. This humor fading for pleasure as you felt him lead the charge to a mutual release. Perfect foreplay and timing had you calling out for one another in grunts and groans as he pulled you swiftly against his hips. 
"Tell me. Tell me whose fucking you like this."
"Rafe-!"
"Tell me whose cock owns your pussy whenever I wanna come."
"RAFE!"
"And tell me who you belong to from this moment on!" He cursed behind clenched teeth. 
"Rafe Cameron!" 
"I love how you say my name when you come." He breathed in finality, your orgasm prompting his own, as he pulled you back to his chest. Sweat connecting you as a trophy of such an example. 
"How about I make you say it again?" 
TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916
MASTERLIST
RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST
2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST
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I've come to the conclusion that Ezekiel has some kind of inherent luck charm. This came to me from @angelwiththeblue-box who gave me this concept when I first saw the show and I just had to add on and it's now part of my personal canon so.
The first episode I think we see this in is And the Apple of Discord. when he gets the apple nothing actually happens to him??? and the explanation is that he's already the worst version of himself which feels like such bs?? sure, he can be annoying at times and he's a thief, but the narrative never frames this as some sort of moral failing, especially when we find out later on his steals helped a lot of people so this never made any sense to me, so luck charm (obviously this is not the moment that prompted this theory, I'm just going chronologically and this is just one piece in the overarching theory)
In And The Fables of Doom he turns into a fairy tale archetype just like everyone else, but also he kinda doesn't?? at the end of the episode when everyone describes how odd and different their experience was and Ezekiel points out he doesn't feel any different, he just says, "Yeah. Well, everybody tells me I can't do what I want, can't rely on luck, but when a magic spell turns everybody into heroes of legend, who did it turn me into? Me!" I think the story book sort of enhanced the luck to make it more obvious (hence the quarter rolling up a flight of stairs through a hallway) but I think it's clear there's something there from the start.
Less of a compelling fact, but I also want to note how Ezekiel was the first one pulled into the dollhouse in And the Heart of Darkness aka the first one being pulled to safety. It's a little thing for sure, but I wanted to toss it into the ring.
In And the Curse of Cindy I always found it odd Ezekiel was the only one not affected by Cindy's love curse. Yeah, they try and explain it away with the fact that he was already in love with her, but that doesn't make sense since he didn't really remember her, he just kinda went "huh she's kinda familiar" throughout the episode before making the connection later on, and to me, luck charm feels more like an explanation.
And then we have And the Steal of a Fortune. The episode that sparked this whole thing in the first place. In an episode where every character has comically bad luck, Ezekiel is so weirdly immune to it. He's lucky and successful against Fortuna's goons and it's fascinating because even the narrative calls out how odd it is Ezekiel isn't affected-
Eve: How come it isn't affecting you!
Ezekiel, clearly guessing: I guess I broke the spell when I hacked the [slot] machine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Jake: How the hell do you hack a fight?!?
They could've left Ezekiel's explanation as good enough, but by having Jake question it, it's the narrative telling you to question it, yet it's never brought up again. Plus, it's not like they needed a character to be immune simply to win, like a minute later Eve comes up with a loophole to try doing the opposite thing and it works. I'd also like to point out that this luck of his beats out the luck of Fortuna, who is the goddess of luck. She's not just some creature of the week, she's a goddamn goddess.
I'm sure a lot of this probably wasn't intended to lead to the conclusion that Ezekiel has some sort of inherent luck charm, but it's just something I've noticed while watching the show and have incorporated into my personal canon. If you've got some other thoughts/evidence please add on, I'd love to hear them!
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avaisnerdytoo · 5 months
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What makes C-137 Rick different in the eyes of Evil Morty? A simple list.
I had this drafted around when the episode came out and I hadn't finished it, sooooo here you go heh:
This is arguably a pretty obvious set of answers, I'm not making any big deep dives here or anything, but I felt curious enough in wanting to see some kind of realized list of how many ways our Rick is different from his counterparts, specifically to the eyes of Evil Morty, that's to say, within the show, what kind of interactions have made Evil Morty slowly chip away in his absolute ideas about our Rick specifically.
Contains content since season 1, but mostly Season 7 due to the amount of interactions.
Bullet point is the actual list, indented is additional, but optional, context I deemed valuable:
C-137 Crying: Obviously the first would be Evil Morty - through Evil Rick - seeing our Rick cry when seeing baby Morty, even if we don't have that explained yet, this genuine care that shocked E-M this much was only reinforced in Season 7 when Rick, just before going to hunt Rick Prime told Morty he "couldn't go", evidently so that he stays safe.
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This is extra reinforced when Evil Morty and Morty Prime join Rick against our big bad, E-M throws an insult right away expecting the reason for Rick's frustration to be "they did something cool and I didn't" (a jump cut), but no, C-137 only says... "You brought Morty???"
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Evil Morty is a Morty registered within the Council's data base, he's been passed around, probably adopted by various Ricks, of whom clearly view that service as a tool to reinforce their detachments. Even if there is a petty and truly emotional reason underneath the existence of such a program, the Morties in those centers only see the very worst of Rick, because that's who they are paired up with, they only see how disposable they are every single time, time and time again.
C-137's respect of Evil Morty: Right away as S7EP5 begins, and E-M joins in with our duo, he's immediately greeted with what I am willing to bet is a different kind of attitude, one of respect. Rick is not dissmisive of Evil Morty, granted he knows his capabilities, however he even compliments Evil Morty on his journey to fucking off, a life style he very much enjoys - supposedly, but still - this is reinforced the moment Evil Morty suggests the modifications to the fracking machine, one which Rick takes notice of an implements right away, no insult attached interestingly enough.
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That respect is also seen after Rick connects the dots with Evil Morty being responsible for hacking his Portal gun, back in Season 5, a detail which most Rick's would've arrogantly shrugged off by underestimating Morty. I am not saying respect can't be earned from other Ricks, after all he was president, but I am focusing the basis of this on Evil Morty's absolutist mindset regarding how Ricks are meant to be.
Teamwork: Although Rick points out the same logic we as the audience and fans did in theories prior to Season 7, regarding the assumption Evil Morty would hate Rick Prime more than our Rick because he's even worse, the actual teamwork simply plays out naturally, first through circumstance, but then by convenience. Nonetheless in each step Rick is once again cooperative with Evil Morty, treating him like an equal in a way that I think we haven't really ever seen before besides Beth, and sorta Summer.
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I feel it's no small detail that E-M's first instinct after grabbing the Portal guns they were quickly tinkering with to escape the box was "don't freak out", the subsequent lack of freaking out also reinforces all of the shit I'm repeating myself on haha, again list of the obvious remember?
And finally the most obvious: C-137's goals are focused on avenging his Wife, as we well know. This singular detail already places him on a different bracket of existence as Rick's aren't meant to care for anyone other that themselves, even if this goal was the reason that fueled Rick's cooperation, signs of respect and more towards Evil Morty, he still did them... That would also technically place the other trapped Ricks, like Nerd Rick or James Bond Rick, as other challengers in Evil Morty's views.
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This is how Evil Morty finally showed a crack in his absolutist views about Ricks.
"You are a little different, Rick..."
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Maybe I can use that someday...
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givemea-dam-break · 1 year
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Your Lockwood. Enemies to lover was sooooo good, please I need a part 2🥺
a/n: so glad you liked it! of course i’ll write a part 2 i am extremely emotionally attached to this series. also to the person who requested the lucy carlyle x reader, it is on its way i promise
warnings: language gn reader
full series collection: here
"You, again? I saw you last week. My eyes can't handle this pain anymore."
Lockwood grins in your doorway. "Come on, last week wasn't so bad. We made it out alive. How are your hands doing, by the way?"
"I almost fell out of a window because of an abusive old man," you grumble. "And they're fine, but they still smell like Savlon, thanks to you. I suppose you'll want to come in?"
"If that's alright," Lockwood says. "I've got more business for you."
Groaning quietly, you move out of the way and gesture for him to come inside. "Alice left for work not long ago, so you won't scare her away. Come on, I'll put some tea on. Milk and sugar?"
"Just milk, please."
You direct Lockwood over to your sofa, bought second-hand from some old couple in north London. That much is evident from its less-than-appealing pattern, but it's comfortable enough. Lockwood sinks down onto it, smiling gratefully when you hand him a mug of tea.
"So, what is it this time?" you ask, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Haunted mansion out in Harrow. A bit of a trek away, but it's good pay. Type Two again, but Lucy will be coming along this time, so hopefully a repeat of last time doesn't happen. We just need an extra pair of hands. It's a big space to cover for three people."
You cross your arms. "Bold of you to assume I want to work with you again. I could've died last time."
"But you will come with us, won't you?"
"I might as well," you grumble. "Nothing else on. Rent's this week. Any information on the house, possible ideas of who the ghost is, or will Lucy and I have to find that out for you?"
Lockwood smiles and, surprisingly, it doesn't piss you off as much as it used to. "George is neck deep in newspapers right now - I've just come from the Archives - so I'm sure we'll have much more than we did last time."
"Alright," you say. "I'm in, but I'm going nowhere near a window again, okay? You can fall out of it this time."
"Deal." He stands, and you almost forgot how obnoxiously tall he is. It's infuriating having to tilt your head to look at him. "Meet us at the station at four."
Making your way to the door, you say, "Be on time, this time. In fact, be early. That would be preferable."
"We'll try." Something about his smile makes your stomach flip. "Thanks for the tea. See you later."
--
The train ride is relatively peaceful.
You sit next to Lucy, who smiles upon seeing you, and across from Lockwood, who wears a shit-eating grin the whole ride, saying something about 'feeling good about this case'. You'd stopped listening to him two seconds after his arrival. You only start paying attention again when George starts to explain his research.
"Apparently," George says, consulting his notebook, "there was a fire at this house in the mid-eighteen-hundreds. The exterior of the house didn't burn down, being made out of sandstone, but the inside was wrecked. Most people managed to escape the blaze, but three died - the lord of the house and his two daughters. The interior has been rebuilt, since, but I managed to find the original plans for the house's layout."
Lucy leans over the architectural plan. "The rooms have all moved around. Where do you think the fire stemmed from?"
"Reports say the lounge, which is now the dining room," George explains. "Lord Ammenby and his daughters, Susanne and Marcella, had seemingly fallen asleep there during the evening, and the fire was left unchecked. It consumed them before anyone could save them."
"So the source could be where the fireplace was," Lockwood guesses.
"Or where they were," you say. "Maybe even where they are now. George, do your notes say anything about where their remains were buried?"
He takes a minute to scan through his notes, flipping through pages. "There's apparently a big sycamore on the estate where the girls had a swing. The servants buried the family there with the thought that they could play in the swing for the rest of eternity."
"Bit grim," Lucy says, "but sweet, I guess. So, are those our three main guesses?"
"They're possible sources," Lockwood says. "Vague, but the best we've got."
"Better than last time," you say, frowning. "So, plan of action?"
Lockwood sits forward. "Lucy and George, you guys scout out the house. Lucy's Listening is more powerful, so you're more likely to hear if anything is going on in the house. (name) and I will take our chance with the tree. If we get nothing from it, we'll join back up with you guys."
"Should we have a signal or something?" you ask. "To save us shouting for help, or running backwards and forwards and risk getting ghost-touched? Like adjusting the lantern light a few times, or flashing our torches."
Goerge nods. "Good idea. Seeing as that ghost last week prevented me from hearing you guys, that's probably our best bet."
"One flash means everything is clear," Lockwood says. "Two means potential finding. Three means -"
"Ah, shit, there's a ghost, come help," you finish.
"I suppose that's one way of putting it," Lucy says with a snort.
It doesn't take much longer to reach Harrow, and the taxi ride to the mansion passes in what feels like mere minutes. Before long, you're all crawling out of the car, duffle bags in hand, chains looped over your shoulders, and rapiers at your sides.
Wrought iron gates tower before you, towering over you and casting twisting shadows on the slowly darkening pavement. You all pass through it and begin the trek up to the mansion - a hulking beast of sandstone, pinpricked with large windows and balconies. It's shaped so that there's a large courtyard in front of the entrance, hosting a large fountain with some kind of statue in the middle.
"Everyone remember the code?" Lockwood asks, eyeing the large double doors just ahead.
"One is good, two is alright, three is bad," George says. "Yes, we remember. Now, go. That's the tree over there, I think."
The four of you turn to the right, where a massive tree looms, covered in bright green leaves. In the breeze, a few flutter down from the branches, and a small swing moves softly. A shadow hangs below it, so large it almost reaches the mansion.
"Not creepy at all," you murmur. "Are we ready to start this happy journey?"
With big sighs, George and Lucy make their way into the mansion, holding the old and new plans of the layout. You and Lockwood share a look, a mix of confidence and worry - more on your part than anything - before trudging over to the massive tree.
"At least there are no windows for us to fall out of," you say, staring up at the tree. Its roots are so large that you're still standing at least six feet away from the trunk.
Lockwood breathes a laugh, checking his temperature gun about fifteen feet from the tree. "Fifteen degrees over here."
"Ten here." You frown at the hulking mass of bark and leaves. "Should we signal Lucy and George? I don't think this is just a chill from standing in the shadow."
"Not yet," Lockwood says, turning on a few lanterns. "See if you can hear anything first. I'll keep a lookout and see if they signal us."
Nodding, you look up at the twisting branches. Sounds around you drain out until you're surrounded by silence, thick and heavy, broken only by the faint sound of a rhythmic swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of a swing. Someone, a young girl, giggles, followed by the sound of a man's chuckle. You can feel a smile play on your lips. They're happy. So happy.
A hand closes over your arm, grip tight. "Lucy and George are signalling," Lockwood says, his tone urgent. "Three flashes. We need to go."
"Wait," you murmur. "There's something..."
"(name), we need to go now. They're in danger."
"No... I can hear something... A woman's voice. Did George mention anything about a Lady of the mansion? I can't remember."
Lockwood tugs your arm. "I don't know, but we need to go help -"
"Get away from the tree!" Lucy's voice shrieks. "It's a trap!"
And then you hear it, the words, the malicious tone of a woman speaking to nothing but tree roots. Your heart thunders in your chest, and a heavy wave of nausea hits you. You stumble backwards, falling into Lockwood's chest.
"His wife, the mother," you manage. "She started the fire. She -"
"Get away from the tree!"
Suddenly, there's a bright light directly in front of you and you can't move. A ghost hovers over the tree roots, but it doesn't appear as it once was. No, its skin is charred and burned, oozing with liquid - blood, maybe? Clothes have melted onto its skin, and the sight is enough to make you even more ill. You'd throw up if you weren't in a ghost lock.
"Snap out of it!" Lockwood yells. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into the iron circle he must have made while you were using your Talent. "It's Lord Ammenby."
Your joints feel a little loose-jointed and disoriented, but you're no longer ghost-locked. "He's a Wraith. He was burned alive by his wife..."
"We can discuss the fate of his death later," Lockwood says. "For now, we need to get to the source."
"Did you manage to see where he appeared from?"
Lockwood points. "In between those roots, there, but we don't have shovels."
You swallow your fear down, watching the Visitor approach slowly. "Crowbar?"
He bends down and retrieves a crowbar from his duffle bag, handing it to you. "I'll distract him, you get the source. George and Lucy will be here soon, so we'll hold him off."
"Wonderful," you grumble. "Because that went swimmingly last time."
"Hey." His hand clutches your wrist gently, and a tingle runs up your arm at the contact. "You'll be fine. Lucy and George are almost here. And I'll keep you safe. I promise."
You glance back at him, finding nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "Okay. Ready?"
His grin gives you confidence. "I was born ready."
Drawing his rapier, he leaps out of the iron circle, drawing the attention of the Wraith. Almost instantaneously, Lord Ammenby's ghost launches at him, wailing.
You take your chance and sprint for the tree's roots, crowbar in one hand and a silver net in the other. Stumbling across the thick, gnarled roots, you manage to reach the area Lockwood pointed to - a gap, no larger than your fist. With a grunt, you slam the crowbar into the ground and begin hacking away at the soil.
Behind you, the ghost wails again, followed by a chorus of salt bombs and shouting. By the sound of it, Lucy and George have joined the fight.
The ground is packed hard and laced with roots, thinner than the ones protruding from the ground, but still tough, and the crowbar is proving to hinder you more than anything. As much as you don't want to, you reach into the hole you've created with your hand, digging around as deep as you can.
"(name), look out!" Lucy cries.
Looking up, you can see the ghost racing towards you. As quickly as you can, you tear your arm out of the ground and throw a salt bomb, momentarily stopping the attack, but Lord Ammenby is back sooner than you have time to process.
"(name)!"
A rapier blade passes clean through the ghost, and as the other-light dissipates, Lockwood's face, splattered with a little soil, appears. "Hurry!" is all he says.
Once again, you shove your arm back into the ground, scratching around with your hand until you finally feel it - the rough, scratchy feel of bones under your nails. Screams overtake your mind, and you can feel heat on your skin, but you push through it, shimmying the small cluster around until you're able to pull them free of the hole.
As you wrap the charred remains in the silver net, the ghost vanishes, and the dark estate becomes silent.
Lockwood, standing just in front of you, is panting, still in a defensive stance. Lucy and George aren't too far off, hunched and holding onto their knees as they catch their breath.
Standing, you wipe as much dirt and soil from your arm as you can. "Well," you say. "It seems we have a thing for men murdered by their wives."
--
"Lockwood, if you'd told me sooner that your tea tasted this good, I would've forgiven you sooner and worked with you more."
The boy in question laughs, reclining in his seat in the living room. "At least I know now."
"As long as I get paid, I don't see any more mishaps occurring," you say, leaning your head back against the cushioned armrest.
Despite closing your eyes, you're well aware of Lockwood's gaze on your face. You can feel it, like little pinpricks on your face, but you're too tired to mock him for it.
"You know," he says, and something in his tone confuses you - caution. "We make a pretty good team, you and I."
A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. "As much as I hate to admit it, we do. Thanks for having my back out there."
"That's what friends do."
Something in your chest tugs. Other than your flatmate, there hasn't been anyone you can call a friend for a while.
"As long as that notion is correct?"
"I suppose it's not entirely out the window," you murmur. "As long as I get more tea."
"As much as you want." You can hear the smile in his voice, and, funnily enough, it makes your smile grow. "Do you want me to walk you to the nearest night cab station? It's quite late."
Opening your eyes, you slowly sit up. "That's alright. I'm sure I can manage."
His smile has softened into something unfamiliar. It's not his usual cocky grin, or that one of triumph, but rather something more personal.
"As long as you're sure," he says, his dark eyes fixed on yours. "But know that you're welcome to stay here if you like."
You roll your eyes. "God, it's like you don't want me to leave! I'll be fine. Want me to call you when I get home, mum?"
He laughs, and the sound of it makes you feel inexplicably content. "Just get home safe, yeah? I know where to find you if we need your help again."
"I specialise in husband-murdered-by-wife cases, so you're aware," you inform him. "And I'm particularly adept at window removals and gardening."
"Come on," Lockwood says, standing. "Get home before it gets any later."
"You're a bossy one today, Lockwood. Don't get your knickers in a twist."
"Go on. Get out of my house, you twat."
"Anthony Lockwood! I never!"
As you leave his house, you swear that his laughter follows you into the night like a companion.
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wanderingjedi77 · 1 year
Text
Bo Katan x Fem!Reader (First Kiss)
Summary: Your first kiss with Bo has been a long time coming.
You had been with the Nite Owls for six long months. They had been gracious enough to let you stay with them on their ship, traveling the galaxy well, also attempting to teach you how to be Mandalorian before they returned to Kelevala, the seat of House Kryze.
The unexpected break was welcome, and you spent your first few days exploring the castle and the surrounding area, admiring the endless ocean, and near constant rain. Bo had warned you not to go very far without her, so you had stayed close, not wanting to displease your Princess.
Today, you found yourself doing what you did best. Researching, studying. Trying to find your way in this new culture in Bo's library.
You hummed as you peered through the books Bo had in her library, running you're hand across holo-pads and old hard backed books until you settled on one about Mandalorian culture and lounged in one of the comfy chairs across from a table strewn with papers and holopads, evidence of you're recent studies when Bo walked in.
She watched you for a few moments before moving around the chair; touching your shoulder lightly to get your attention before she leaned against the table, placing her helmet down.
"Hello, Princess." You greeted softly and peered up at her with a smile. Bo tilted her head, and looked amused.
"How is it I always know where to find you?" Bo teased. You sighed and leaned back, folding the book shut and placing it in your lap. You and Bo had gotten to know each other somewhat over dinners and walks, but you were still getting used to her teasing.
"Maybe it's because you like knowing where I am?" You fire back, and Bo laughs.
"I don't spy on you sweet girl." Bo corrects. "But you do seem to be a person of habit."
You're heart fluttered at the nickname, and you tapped her on the leg. "I am not."
"You are." Bo laughs again, "And stubborn too." She meets your gaze, and you look away shyly.
"What do you need of me, Bo?" You ask softly, and meet her gaze again as Bo slips off the table and takes your hands to pull you up. You let her and catch yourself with one hand on her armor as she wraps an arm around your waist to steady you.
"I have a gift for you." Bo removes her arm and pulls something out of her pocket. Is it a holo chip? You give her a confused look, and Bo hurries to explain.
"You said you couldn't find pictures of your family. I went digging." Bo smiles at you, "It's all on here. To remember them by."
You swallow hard and look at her in shock. "I.. you..." You feel your heart sing, and wonder how she had managed that. "I can't believe -"
Bo pressed it into your hand. "I'd do anything for you." She tells you softly.
"Thank you!" You move forward in response and hug Bo tightly, and she laughs. "I can't believe you did this for me." You kiss her cheek as you pull away, and Bo looks at you with a nervous smile.
"Sorry -" You apologise quickly and blush as Bo moves a strand of hair behind your hair.
"Don't apologise." Bo replies quietly. She meets your gaze as her hand cups your cheek, and you shut your eyes; relaxing. "I don't mind if you kiss me." She removes her hand from your cheek with a gentle swipe of her thumb and smiles at you, her eyes sweeping down from your eyes to your lips.
"So why don't you kiss me?" You ask her, and there's a steady silence. Bo looks thoughtful, her lips curled into a frown as she meets your eyes again.
"Because all I'm good at is war." Bo tells you, and she looks back down at her hands. You reached out and take them in you're own, step closer to her.
"You're not good at war, you're good at protecting people. You're good at saying what's on your mind and knowing when I'm hurting. You're good at being there for your people. you're good at loving me when I need it most." You tell her and feel a little out of breath. "I care about you, Bo. I want to be there for you just as much."
Bo looks at you, and gives you a sad smile. "You think far too much of me sweet girl."
You smile, and tilt your head up to look at her. "I always will Princess." You tell her, pleased. Bo wraps an arm around you, suddenly serious.
"I haven't kissed anyone in a long time-"
"Then allow me to refresh your memory." You tease, and Bo smirks; before she leans down to kiss you. It starts of slow, soft. Like she's testing a new fighter. You wrap your arms around her lower back, an pull her closer at the delightful flutter in your stomach.
Bo was kissing you, she was kissing you-
Oh!
Bo deepened the kiss and lifted you, moving you around and up so you were sitting on the table. It was desperate almost, like she was realising how much she had been missing with you. You sighed into her kiss and then tapped her shoulder with your hand.
Bo pulled away, flushed and smiling at you. You had never seen her so happy. "Did I get carried away?" She reaches up and puts a hand on your back, drawing slow circles with her thumb.
"I just needed a moment to breath." You reply, and smile back at her. "That was probably the best kiss I've ever had."
Bo laughs, delighted. "Good." She hesitates. "Do you maybe want to take this somewhere else?" She asks gently.
You smirk. "Like?"
"Somewhere where we won't be disturbed." Bo suggests, and tilts her head at the open space your in. You trail your hands down her sides at look up at her.
"Mhmm I don't know." You tease her. "What's in it for me?"
Bo gives you an appraising look. "Well, come with me and find out, sweet girl."
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knaccblog · 7 months
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If you really think about it, both Crowley and Aziraphale are basically confessing their love and asking the other to spend forever with them in that final scene but in such entirely different ways that they both ended up feeling rejected by that offer instead. It's kinda masterful to be able to write that tbh.
Crowley's offer is relatively open in it's romance even though he doesn't quite get all the way there. The intended message is somewhere along the lines of "We're an us and I would like to be that us forever" and "We can be just like that other Demon and Angel couple who were clearly in love, if you'd like."
I feel like before Aziraphale started talking about rejoining Heaven, his confession didn't necessarily involve running away even. After all, he'd wanted to go to an alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz just moments ago, he loves his plants and his car. He definitely loves Earth, he just loves Aziraphale more and he wants to keep him safe. And the thing he wants to keep him safest from is Heaven, who tried to destroy him and treated him poorly for years. Crowley knows with everything that he is that Heaven is cold and cruel and heartless but no matter how hard he tries to explain that to Aziraphale, he never understands. He'll never give up on them. So they literally have to leave behind everything else they both love to be together and safe but Crowley will do that without a second thought because he loves Aziraphale the most and he wants to spend forever with him.
And while it's possible? I personally feel like Aziraphale didn't entirely miss the romance of Crowley's proposal, but considering what Crowley is also rejecting with it (his own redemption, the goodness of Heaven, a chance to make the world a better place, the safety of not being outsiders, and trusting Aziraphale to make a good choice for the two of them), Aziraphale literally feels burned by it. How can Crowley not want these things? How can he not believe in these things? It breaks Aziraphale's heart.
Aziraphale's proposal, on the other hand, is more subtle in it's romance but it's definitely there. He frontloads it with what he's the most excited about which is Crowley being reinstated as an Angel. I wrote a whole thing about this here but basically, not only does Crowley being an Angel again really make everything about Aziraphale's worldview a lot cleaner, but he also feels like it's something Crowley desperately deserves. Aziraphale's true offer, once he gets the whole thing out, involves them together and safe as Angels in Heaven, doing Good, keeping the Earth safe and protected, forever. If you really pay attention, the longer Aziraphale talks about his "job offer" and tries to sell it to Crowley, the less he is being shy about what he's really, really asking for. It becomes all, "Come with me" and "*We* can make a difference" and "I need you." It's all trust and love and forever.
But unfortunately for Aziraphale, there is basically no way Crowley can hear this offer and not experience it as confirmation of his worst fears: That he's not good enough for Aziraphale. That Aziraphale can't love him how he is currently. That Aziraphale just needs his help, rather than cares about or wants him. That Aziraphale still doesn't, after all this time and evidence, understand how horrible Heaven is. That this whole time, they've just been an arrangement after all. It breaks Crowley's heart.
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Shan your Tomura posts are making me so sad and so angry at the same time 😭😭😭
Thinking about all the ways and all the times he could have been saved! All the what ifs and all the should haves! 😭😭
"What if his dad came to his senses and was more understanding with him?" "What if someone took his hand or called for help?" "What if he was in that hospital with Touya and upon Touya's escape he took Tomura?" "What if someone with a good heart saw Tomura with all those hands walking around at night and thought 'this isn't right, let me call someone and report' "? "Toshinori should have listened to his heart both times instead of following Gran Torino's advice" "Gran Torino should have kept an eye on Nana's son from a distance" and so on and so on 😭😭
Truly tragic ... 😭
The most important thing to take away from Tenko's story is that AFO probably prevented people from helping Tenko, from also the culture of the Hero Society had a lot to do with it too.
It's been stated multiple times in bnha that heroes can't save everyone and can't be everywhere at once. There's a part of bnha where Deku asks All Might if he has ever failed to save someone and All Might explains that not one, but hundreds of times he couldn't be there to save people. Heroes are only people after all. They have limits. Even if the law makes them look all invincible, well, fear is what powers the smile behind All Might, isn't it?
Fear because you're putting your life on the line.
Fear because you're not invulnerable.
Even the strongest man alive is only a man.
The thesis of the bnha spin off Vigilantes is just that. The law has a limit and it restrains what a pro-hero can do. A power-enhanced society like bnha is full of dangers you can't control, because accidents and common malice can get serious in a blink. There is a gap for evil. You can't close it.
Actually, the only way to control that little breach is through daily decency. To help your neighbor, to be kind, to pay attention to what others need and how can you make the world a better place. It can sound cheesy, but that's exactly how bnha started
Didn't Deku go to save Bakugo as a common citizen? Now, Bakugo is the one who killed AFO. We're saying that if Deku hadn't helped Bakugo that day, the world could be completely doomed.
Big heroic acts count A LOT. I'm not convincing anyone otherwise. It's just that a million little acts of goodness are more important to keep everyone safe than trusting an army in a war.
AFO gave Tenko probably a bit more than half a day to wander around. Tenko killed the Shimuras at dusk, we saw him walking after the tragedy in plain daylight and I think AFO "found him" the afternoon of the same day.
In truth, he didn't wait a lot, did he?
That's because he couldn't risk someone actually reporting that a kid covered in blood was walking around with the stare of a thousand yards. AFO couldn't risk a pro-hero finding Tenko, could he? He needed enough time to convince Tomura that the world was an uncaring place full of apathy for kids like him. AFO manipulated the situation to make it way worse by using the flaws of the Hero Society. That's a fact.
The night the Shimuras died, Nao finally stood up for Tenko and gave Kotaro an ultimatum. We can't know if things could have been better. They died before anything could change.
We have no evidence of Tomura even contacting any of the other kids that AFO manipulated. It's safe to assume he kept Tomura isolated from the world. That means that no one could ever show him any kindness. AFO was not allowing Tomura any chance to escape, not like Touya for example.
AFO probably got some cops on his side when it came to reporting the Shimura incident.
Grand Torino recognized to himself during the War arc that maybe the decision Nana and him took was not the right one. They shouldn't have abandoned Kotaro like that.
My whole point is that yes, society failed Tomura, but AFO wouldn't give them a chance to make up for their mistakes. The only reason why Deku is able to help Tomura now is because AFO is dead.
Not doomed by the narrative, doomed by AFO.
If only AFO hadn't had such insane control over Tomura's life, maybe he could have been saved or at least escaped like Touya did 😭😭 but that man was a pro at ruining children's lives and making sure no one could ever make it better for them 😭
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