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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 1 year

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jealousy, jealousy || Lee Know x Reader

Summary: "Sure, Minho missed an opportunity to spend more time around you in a relaxed setting, but is he upset about it? Does he get annoyed when he hears you talk with the guy behind him? Does hearing you chuckle at the guy’s stupid jokes, probably just to be polite, ‘cause he’s not that funny, make him want to claw the dude’s eyes out?

Well. Yes."

Or: You're working with a different partner for a group assignment, and Minho's totally chill about it.

Word count: 4.9k

Genres: college AU, coffee shop AU, strangers to lovers

Warnings & Tags: jealousy, kissing, minor language, tooth-rotting fluff, seriously this is so fluffy, reader is implied to have social anxiety, Thunderstorm

series masterlist

A/N: This is the second story I've written where Lee Know's a barista and cats are involved. It probably says something deep about me, but what? I hope you'll enjoy the fic, please consider letting me know your thoughts and reblogging the fic if you do~

Minho doesn't know exactly when he noticed you, or when you started appearing in his life. It’s kind of annoying actually, because he knows he noticed you because he kept seeing you around, but he has no way of pinpointing it. What he does know is that you started showing up at the coffee shop where he worked, twice every week. That wasn’t that big a deal, you were far from being the only one the only one, but it was a shop that was pretty out of the way, near an old building that was only used for a few classes, as far as he knew, so it wasn’t that frequented.

In fact, you could almost say that the people who bothered to come here were the weirdos who wanted to avoid the other permanently full coffee shops on campus. Which was fine by Minho, who wasn’t paid enough to deal with that sort of crowd.

Anyway, at some point, Minho’s brain had to have put together he was seeing you around quite a bit, and finally he managed to figure out that it was because you were in one of the classes he was rudely forced to take outside of his major. In his defense, it took him so long because he didn’t really like people, as a rule, and he paid as little attention to them as possible. His friends were enough of a hassle to deal with already.

It makes it all the more frustrating that he can’t tell what it was about you that caught his attention. It has to have been something. Once he starts trying to understand it, more things come to light. Like the fact that your lips move but your voice doesn’t come out when you thank him for giving you your order, or the sigh of relief you always seem to heave out when you let yourself fall at your favorite table, the one in the corner, where you sit with your back to the window.

Actually, from what he can see, you appear to do your best to stay out of people’s way. It’s a multitude of little things, from how you always sit in the middle of rows in the amphitheater and wait until everyone’s cleared out to leave, to how you keep close to the walls in the hallways, eyes usually on the floor, to how, on the couple of occasions when your voice can be heard in class, it’s only after the professor’s been waiting for an answer for an increasingly embarrassing amount of time.

The first time it happens — the first time Minho notices it happening, anyway — he has to make you repeat yourself louder, and it seems almost painful for you to raise your voice.

Then there’s that time when someone accidentally backs into you and the books and papers you’re carrying spill onto the floor.

“Shit, sorry,” they say, and you reply immediately, like it’s a reflex, “Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it”, but afterwards, as you kneel next to the papers, you let out a defeated sigh, just staring at the mess for a few seconds. And that’s when Minho can’t stay in place anymore.

“Oh, thanks, you don’t have to do that,” you say, again, with that cadence that makes him feel like these are sentences that pour out of you without you getting much of say, so deeply ingrained in you that you can’t control them.

Then you glance up at him, and your eyes widen, little mouse caught in the cat’s gaze. He feels his lips curving into a grin. You recognize him, and you’re being very obvious about it too.

Cute.

“Thank you,” you repeat, taking your stuff from his hands and dipping your head to stop looking at him once you get control of yourself again.

“Vanilla latte, right?” he asks, and he probably shouldn’t be this amused by the way your head snaps back up and you freeze, but it’s— It’s kind of adorable. Though you’re obviously trying to reign yourself in, there is something so sincere about it that he can’t help but be enticed by it.

“Um,” you say. “Yes.” And then you visibly search for something to say next, rolling your lips together as if they’ll figure something out of a list of socially acceptable answers. As fun as this is, Minho decides to put you out of your misery.

For now anyway.

“I’ll give you a discount on the next one,” he says, and then he’s gone before you can start saying “You don’t have to do that”.

He actually slides the next one to you over the counter and tells you that it’s ‘on the house’. You hesitate for a few seconds, and he thinks you’re going to refuse, before you bow your head politely and thank him for it. You don’t quite look up at him after that, but a bright smile has spread on your lips.

Cute, he thinks, again, and then he doesn't think of it much at all. A part of his brain was intrigued by the novelty that you represented, and that part has been satiated now.

At least, that’s what he assumes.

You get his attention again a few weeks later. It’s fairly early in the morning and, as Minho does whenever he gets a chance, he’s behind the half abandoned building near the café, setting up some food for the cats that have taken residence here. It’s something he’s not really allowed to do, but also he’s never asked permission, so no one's told him that yet, which means that he’s not not allowed to do it either.

Still, when he hears footsteps approaching as he’s surrounded by a chorus of meows, there’s a part of him that considers making a run for it.

But then he’d have to run.

Which he doesn’t like doing.

You appear at the corner of the building before he’s made his decision. When your eyes meet, he half expects you to turn around and pretend you haven’t seen him. He’s pretty sure you’ve done that after a class, recently. You swallow, but you keep walking towards him, kneeling by his side and petting the cats as the braver ones rub themselves against your legs.

Whoever said that the surest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach clearly wasn’t obsessed with cats, because liking cats is maybe the most important requirement for Minho.

“Hi,” you say, at a surprisingly normal volume, and then, cadence a little too fast, “I have some cat food.”

Is it weird that he finds that attractive? It’s probably weird.

“Have you been stalking me?” he says more than he asks, vaguely aware of the fact that there’s something ironic about him saying those words.

Your eyes widen and you quickly shake your head.

“No! I— have classes in there,” you point at the building, “and I’ve— seen you come around here. We’ve been told we couldn’t feed the cats,” you add with a slight pout. “We still do it when we can get away with it, but it's good that someone is also taking care of them.”

And you break the law for the sake of cats. Isn’t this amazing.

“I can help you buy food,” you say. “If you’d like.”

He doesn't reply right away, and when the silence stretches a second too long, you start speaking again, faster and your voice lower now.

“Or not, you know, I don’t want to impose anything, I mean, I didn’t want to intrude—”

On the one hand, that seems more like you, based on the glimpses of you he’s been getting, and on the other, he’s not sure how to shut that down. The truth is, he can barely fit the expenses in his budget. He literally can't afford to refuse your help — but he doesn't think he’d do it if he could.

“You can help,” he says, interrupting you in the middle of a sentence where you’re basically apologizing for existing, and that seems to knock the breath out of you.

“Oh,” you say, “that’s good.”

He wonders if you walk into interactions with a prepared set of sentences and panic when anyone goes off script. That sounds kind of exhausting.

“I’ll bill you,” he adds, and the feeling he gets when you let out a light laugh is one he can’t quite explain. There’s a sense of pride in it, but also some much deeper satisfaction at the feeling of having gotten you to let that guard slip, even for just a few seconds.

“I have to go to class,” you say, getting up while you rummage through your tote bag to hand him a package of dry food. “But I’ll, uh, see you around?”

There’s an expectancy to your tone, a hope even. He wonders if you’re aware of it. Either way, that sincerity, which he’d noticed before, remains pleasantly refreshing.

“Sure,” he says.

The next time you show up at the coffee shop, Friday a few minutes after six, like always, he has your vanilla latte ready.

After that, Minho finds it fascinating to see how differently you react to him, depending on the situation. Every now and then, you meet him behind the building, usually early in the morning, before there are too many people around. They would probably recognize you, and then you’d get in trouble, you explain. Your voice is lighter then, your body more relaxed. You manage to chat with him, to make small talk.

‘Manage’ really is the word for it, because your behavior is worlds apart when he sees you in class. It’s clear by now that this just isn’t your element, so you stick to your script, and Minho just isn’t a part of it. He doesn’t take it too personally, considering that no one else seems to be either.

It’s obvious to him that you get there with the objective of being in and out of the building as efficiently as possible, and with as little interaction with others as you can get away with. He does approach you still on a couple of occasions, one of them being when the classes before yours ran late and everyone was waiting in the hallway. You're focused on your phone then, and you jump when he says your name.

“How are you doing?” he asks, leaning against the wall next to you.

��Oh,” you say, which he thinks is just your filler word to give yourself time to figure out what to say next. “Um. Good. How are you?”

“Good.”

Someone else would bristle at the awkwardness of the exchange, but Minho is mostly amused by it. After a few seconds of very visibly searching for something to say, you come up with “…and how are the cats?”, though your tone is hesitant, unsure.

“They’re good too,” he grins. “Went to visit them this morning. Also, I might have found an association that could them spayed.” He certainly can’t afford to pay for it.

“That’s great,” you say.

This time, he’s the one who takes it upon himself to save the conversation, casually pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Wanna see my cats?”

You light up at the question, and Minho feels the same sort of pride he does when Dori jumps into his lap to ask for pets — instead of ungratefully evading him like the little shit he is.

It doesn’t last long, the class before yours ends soon, and after that you get back to your ‘just getting in and out’ state. It’s almost physical when it happens. The smile disappears from your lips as you press them together, you straighten your back, but the most impressive change is the way your eyebrows tighten, a small line forming between them. Minho almost wants to reach out to wipe it from your forehead, but he doesn’t. Baby steps, that’s what you need, not him invading your personal space by that much.

He doesn’t ask himself, even for a second, why he’s willing to go through that much trouble to get closer to you. He just goes with the flow, as he always has, and that works fine for him.

He doesn’t sit next to you in class, thinks it would only stress you out more, make you too aware of his presence and of how you react to it. Instead, he takes a spot right in front of you, where he can’t see you but can easily check on you if he wants to — which he does. He refrains from doing it too much though, because on more than one occasion, he caught you looking at him, and you averted your eyes quickly, acting a little too invested in your note taking.

He still thinks it’s cute, but he doesn’t want to make you go in hiding, so he holds himself back.

Which comes back to bite him in the ass, rudely, when the teacher announces that he wants people to work in pair for an assignment.

He turns around to ask you to work with him, and sees, right in front of his eyes, as the guy sitting next to you asks you the same thing in a casual manner. You reply too fast, one of your knee-jerk answers, he can tell, but it’s still done before he even got the time to open his mouth. He also knows, instinctively, that you’ll feel embarrassed if he asks you now, so he doesn’t, turning to his own neighbor while holding back the strange urge to hiss at the guy.

…maybe he spends too much time with cats, actually.

Minho’s fine with the situation. He is. He still gets to be around you some mornings, and you now look him in the eye when you place your order at the coffee shop. You also don’t recoil as much as you used to when he leans over the counter, ostensibly to flirt with you — though he’s like, 98% sure you haven’t realized that’s what he’s doing. He’s making progress in getting you to feel more comfortable around him.

Sure, he missed an opportunity to spend more time around you in a relaxed setting, but is he upset about it? Does he get annoyed when he hears you talk with the guy behind him? Does hearing you chuckle at the guy’s stupid jokes, probably just to be polite, ‘cause he’s not that funny, make him want to claw the dude’s eyes out?

Well. Yes.

He’s been moody about it for days, to the point that Jisung pouted at him, asking him “what was wrong with him these days”, and Changbin looked him dead in the eyes to ask him if he needed help to get a girl, because he clearly needed to get laid.

A conversation he got out of by replying “do you want to die”, which is a card he’s maybe been playing a little too much these days.

He’s been in a good mood today, though. He’d seen you in the morning, and you’d helped him try to make a small shelter for the cats, because it had been announced that there would be heavy rain over the whole week-end. It had been a fun time, and maybe he’d used the opportunity to get closer to you than usual, enjoying how flustered it made you. Just brushing against you as he grabbed some planks you’d sneaked out of the building, totally accidentally touching your hand when you handed him something, that kind of things.

He had somewhat ruined the effect by accidentally dropping a plank on his foot, but that had made you laugh, so, it was— No, it still wasn’t worth it, he didn’t enjoy pain, but it made him slightly less annoyed about it.

So, as he waited for you in the coffee shop, as the skies outside darkened and fewer people than usual showed up, he wasn’t in as bad a mood as he’d been lately.

It started to rain at around half past five. He would have loved to run to get you with an umbrella, but he, unfortunately, needed his job. He did get a towel ready to hand to you, in case you didn’t have anything to protect yourself from the rain.

And then you came in.

Under an umbrella.

Which was in the hands of the one guy that was your partner in that one class.

Violent thoughts of murder flash before Minho’s eyes.

“Hey,” you say as you walk to the counter, giving him a bright smile, “this is Jooyeon, he’s in—”

“Class with us,” Minho completes with a smile that’s very much fake, “yes, I recognize him.”

Actually, technically, Jooyeon hasn’t done anything wrong, but it doesn’t help that he’s been looking at you and following you around like a damn puppy. What annoys Minho the most is probably the fact that you seem a lot chiller around him, a lot more natural than you are whenever Minho’s around. That’s— upsetting. He wants to see these sides of you, too, and not just from afar.

One vanilla latte and an americano later, you and Jooyeon sit by the window, in your usual spot, and Minho can’t stop himself from glaring. Jisung, or anyone, really, would call him out on it in a matter of seconds, because he’s not being subtle about it, but there’s no one around right now. The room, which is rarely full, is emptier than usual because most people rushed to get home to try to avoid the downpour.

That means that there is nothing to distract him from the intrusive thoughts that are trying to convince him to just throw something at Jooyeon. Anything would do.

When it starts becoming a little too tempting, and considering that he doubts anyone would brave the rain that’s falling at the moment, as thick as a curtain separating the coffee shop from the outside world, he decides to grab his computer and try to get some work done.

Of course, because some divinity out there must have decided to target him today, he’s just getting started and finding his rhythm when the lights flicker above him. He glances up. In the distance, the thunder rumbles.

There’s a flash outside.

And everything goes dark.

Fuck. His. Life.

With a sigh, he pulls out his phone to turn on his flashlight. At least, in this day and age, most people in the shop have the same idea, and soon enough he can see what’s happening.

“It’s probably just a power cut because of the storm,” he announces loudly, because it’s his responsibility to reassure the clients — if that had been something they’d tested for when he was interviewed, he would never have gotten the job. “Lights might come back on soon.” Or not, how would he know. “No reason to panic.”

He scans the faces of students, though he’s not sure what he’s looking for. Some people look worried, others, no doubt those who know that this happens semi-regularly on campus when there’s a storm, because why would your tuition pay to ensure that you have reliable electricity in here, just seem prepared to wait it out. Someone’s already gone back to tapping on their keyboard, though the sound of it is swallowed by that of the rain.

But then, he does a double-take, just to check on an impression that he had, and that confirms what he thought.

You’re not in the room. Most likely explanation is that you’re in the bathroom, but he has to imagine that it’s a pretty freaky experience, when all the lights turn off without warning and you’re all alone.

So, without thinking much about it, he makes his way in that direction. He’s hesitating in front of the door when it pushes open, and he’s suddenly blinded by cellphone light.

“Sorry!” he hears you apologize before he can make out your face. “I, uh, is the power out?”

“It looks like it,” he answers, and then his tone softens. “Are you okay?”

There’s a few seconds of silence, and he can’t quite discern your expression, because you’ve both lowered your lights. He resists the urge to reach for you, to inspect you to see for himself that everything is fine.

“I’m fine,” you answer. “I just—”

Then there’s the crack of thunder, and you jump, gasping, before closing your eyes in obvious annoyance.

“Fuck,” you say, and he wonders if it’s the first time that he’s ever heard you swear. And if it’s weird that he’s kinda into it.

“You scared of storms?” he asks, trying his best to contain the amusement in his voice.

“No,” you protest, a little defensively. “I don’t like being surprised— Fuck!”

Minho knows he shouldn’t laugh, that making fun of you could ruin the trust he’s been trying to build this past month, but at your annoyance for letting yourself be taken by surprise, and considering your obvious lack of fear, he can’t help it. It comes out higher than his usual pitch, a little airy. You roll your eyes at it, but you don’t seem to miss the humor in the situation, because a smile forms on your lips as well.

At that point, because he isn’t one to let an opportunity slip, he reaches out to take your hand in his. Your palm is soft, if somewhat calloused on the spot under your fingers, and after the first moment of surprise, you squeeze his hand in response.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It should be over soon.” Then a pause. “Or maybe we’ll be stuck here until we have to decide who we’re going to eat.”

You laugh at that, brief and light, and as cliché as it is, Minho thinks that is quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds in the world. Especially when he’s the one making you laugh, and not that jackass Joo— Ah, the kid hasn’t technically done anything, and it feels silly to blame him when you’re here with your hand in his.

So he’ll let it go. For now.

As much as he would like to stay here with you, in the dark, away from everyone else, Minho unfortunately has stuff he needs to take care of right now.

“Wanna go back with the others? I think I have to keep an eye on them.”

“Sure,” you say. You don’t attempt to take your hand from his, and so he pulls you along with him. He’s not going to let go if you won’t.

Things in the café are still quiet, and people don’t pay a lot of attention when the two of you come back, except for Jooyeon, who gets up from his seat.

“That must have taken you by surprise,” he says with empathy. “Everything okay?”

“All good,” you reply warmly, and there’s a pinch in Minho’s chest again. “I think we’ll have to postpone the session though. I’ll let you know when I’m free, if that’s okay with you?”

Ugh. Minho tunes Jooyeon’s response out, only waiting for an opportunity to whisk you away. He probably shouldn’t feel this strongly about it, is aware that you’re entirely within your own rights if you want to pick Jooyeon over him, but from his perspective, that doesn’t mean he has to let it be an easy decision to make. He’s not the type to lie down and just watch as that happens.

So the second Jooyeon’s eyes flick back to his computer, Minho’s taking you towards the counter with him. He checks the register once he’s there — which he definitely shouldn’t have let unattended without verifying that it couldn’t be accessed without electricity, oops, his bad — and after having confirmed that everything’s fine, his eyes go back to you.

The spike in his heart rate when he finds you already staring at him surprises him a little. He supposes that he can’t be that jealous without also having that sort of reaction to you. It’s not… unpleasant, actually, though the strength of it surprises him. It’s not the kind of emotion he usually welcomes, he’s used to them feeling less sharp, duller. But he doesn’t reject that one.

Gently, he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, enjoying the feeling of your skin against his.

“Is there an issue between him and Jooyeon?” you ask, voice soft.

Ah. For someone who’s so completely oblivious about his interest in you, you were sure quick to notice that.

“You could say that,” he replies, and you frown.

“I didn’t know that,” you say, words coming out slow, like you’re figuring out what to say as you go, instead of defaulting to your usual pre-built answers. “Can I ask why?”

Minho raises an eyebrow. Then, wordlessly, he shifts himself so that you’re against the counter, with him standing in front of you. It’s interesting, because he’s almost exactly in the spot where he is every day, and every time he steals glances at you to make his day marginally better. He puts his hands on either side of you, hears you take a sharp breath.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

His voice comes out soft and muted, and as he asks, he feels something squeeze at his heart. Maybe because he’s not sure of what you'll answer. Maybe because he could have misread you, thought that you were oblivious when the truth was that you weren't interested. He could be keeping you away from your one true love, Jooyeon, who you’re going to go on to marry and have three k—

“Yes,” you squeak.

Ok, never mind.

Technically you’re in public, but it’s not like anyone’s looking your way, or like they'd see something other than silhouettes when he leans towards you.

It feels so natural when he kisses you. You lift your arms to wrap them around his neck, his hands find their place on your hips. Much to his surprise, you’re the one who presses yourself into him, lips moving softly against his, and it sends a jolt of electricity through his body. Suddenly there’s urgency running through his veins, desire, and his fingers dig harder into you. He kisses you with more intensity, like he’s trying to get rid of any space left between the two of you, and the soft sigh you let out only spurs him on further.

He’s seconds — fractions of seconds — away from doing something stupid when laughter and claps fill the room.

He parts from you, feeling his ears and cheeks turning red already, and discovers that the lights treacherously turned back on, and everyone is looking at the two of you. Protectiveness rushes through him, and he’s about to say something snappy, thinking that you’d be uncomfortable with it, when he realizes that you’re doubled over in laughter. Yes, you look a little embarrassed, but mostly, you seem fine with it.

Which is good, because otherwise he thinks he might have lost the shop a number of customers.

Everyone looks amused and happy for the two of you. Even Jooyeon’s grinning, though the look he gives Minho says, essentially, “Oh that was your problem”. It doesn’t capture people’s attention very long, but there’s something very sweet and human about the moment and how happy it seems to make everyone. Some regulars even exchange glances that seem to mean ‘I told you so’. Ha, he didn’t think he’d ever become campus gossip.

Once there are fewer eyes on the two of you, Minho leans towards you.

“I’ll take you on a date anywhere, as long as it’s not to get coffee.”

Your face lights up.

“I’d love that.”

Working at a coffee shop is not something that Minho finds very fun. Someone who enjoys human interactions more than him might, but it just feels very repetitive to him. Doing the same movements, asking the same questions, having to deal with the same issues from asshole customers who are different but also fundamentally the same person. The ding of cash register, the one of no contact credit cards, the buzzing of the coffee machine. It’s repetitive, but in a way that fills and numbs the mind.

There’s just one sound that he minds a little less now, and it’s the one the door makes when it opens.

Because, every now and again, it means that you’ve just come in.

“Hey,” you say as you reach the counter. You’re smiling so bright, and he loves it because he knows that it’s another one of those things that you can’t help. You’re smiling because he makes you happy, and isn’t that the best thing in the world?

“Dating the barista doesn’t entitle you to free coffee,” he says as he slides your vanilla latte over to you, though he has used his employee discount on everything you’ve ordered lately and he would very much give it to you for free if you didn’t insist on paying for your own stuff.

“We’re still on for tonight?” you ask, taking the coffee from the table.

“You think I’d let you get out of it?” he replies, and you laugh, before taking off to go to your usual table.

After that, he keeps going, keeps doing the same movements, asking the same questions, hearing the same noises. But sometimes, he glances in your direction and finds you focused on your computer, biting your lower lip as you’re deep in thought, or looking at him with a smile, and it makes it all more bearable.

Because you give him something to look forward to.

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

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ranposbabe · 11 months

Text

Infidel | Johan Liebert x Reader

Chapter 5

“And then I told the little fucker to get off my back ! And now here we are !” He paces back and forth behind the worn sofa before finally taking a seat.

“I mean can you believe that ?!” He scoffs.

“No I can not.” You mutter, eyeing the man up and down. Mister you can’t bother learning his name. Middle aged yet looks way older than he actually is, overweight, low income and quite literally has nothing better to do then bullshit.

But that’s was just your little analysis after meeting the odd man just half an hour prior. Yes, your father had warned you that you would be speaking to a weird man.

His colleges snickered and howled when finding out you would be meeting with the man. With his little sympathy he informed you to take what the man says with a pince of salt.

Apparently the man you now regretfully meeting had a reputation in the pass for harassing anyone who would listen and deal with his so called “incidents”.

He was a profound liar but it was clear that his loneliness was a cause of the issue.

However it did not excuse his behaviour. He was constantly harassing people in the detective department not budging until someone addressed it. Of course everyone knowing he made stories up just to gain attention, they didn’t address it.

Until they just threw it at you because of course to them, you could never handle. a serious case all by yourself.

So you’re left with the shit show.

“So what will be done about it ?” He genuinely asks. For once you force yourself to hold back a smirk because deep down you get the sense that this man isn’t exactly wanting to cause harm.

More so just wanting someone to listen to his problems. Even if those problems were completely made up.

“Leave it to me sir.” You nod. “This file you’ve presented me will be in safe hands. You can be sure of that.” You state, grabbing the file from the coffe table before standing. “Thank you once again !”

He clasps his pruny hands together.

“Since no one else would take the job-

With that you leave, making sure to slam the door in frustration at the reminder of you taking the job and wasting your time.

Stepping outside you don’t hesitate to walk straight over to the public street bin and dump the file inside. Good riddance.

Walking away ever so causally yet determined to go to your next dreaded destination.

“Back from your very serious conversation already !” A colleague of your father snickers as you enter through the doorway, the load of drunks sat around the table with drinks twice the size they are. “I need to speak to you.” You nod towards your father, completing disregarding the drinks sat around you.

“Can this wait some other time, daughter of mine ?” He sighs, downing his drink before its taken away. Resting your hands on the table, you lean forward, sure to glare down at t he man. Oh how he hates to feel like s being out in his place.

“No it cannot, father of mine.” You glare, and at look he finally obeys.

“What now has occurred ? Has the fool informed you of another heroic tell of his ?”

“That man is clearly showing signs of a undiagnosed mental illness but that is not my point.” You shake your head at your now amused father.

“Why are you sending me out on single jobs that clearly does not value a resolution ?” You furrow your brows.

“You’re a mere woman, you needn’t have the hassle of handling a tough job. Especially by your lonesome.” He smirks, thinking he has the upper hand.

“I’m quite use to be surrounded by drunken fools and yet I foolishly thought you couldn’t end up like their current state !” You sigh. It was almost as he he had sobered up in that instance.

His once glazed over eyes turned dark as he glared back at you.

“Do not forget yourself, daughter.” He steps closer but you hold your ground much to his dismay. “I easily gave this job to you that you clearly despise and now you complain ? I can easily take it away as quick as it was given.” At that your eyes glare at him.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t forget yourself either, father.”

#x reader #reader insert #anime and manga #johan #johan liebert x reader #yandere johan liebert x reader #yandere #monster anime #monster manga #dr tenma #anna liebert

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captainpoopweinersoldier · 2 years

Text

Rainy Day Fund - Connie Nikas x Reader

Summary: Connie is your ex boyfriend and decides to pay you a visit after a months' long estrangement.

Rating: Explicit; 18+ Only

Word count: 5.3K

Warnings: Rough sex, spanking, spitting, dirty talk

Link to AO3

Tags: Special thanks to @ursulaismymiddlename for cheering me on, and giving me the sweetest blow by blow messages of encouragement! @salt-is-a-terrible-currency

The bell tolled the entry of a new customer and you groaned inwardly, sulking as the slosh from the footprints joined the ever growing murky puddle at the door. Rainy days rarely brought much traffic to the laundromat; it seemed futile to go through the hassle of washing clothes only to schlep them through rain on the walk home after. But at this rate, you would definitely be stuck way past closing, mopping until your back ached.

You carried on helping Miss Wilson, an adorable elderly woman who toted in every Tuesday with her and her husband’s dirty laundry stuffed in a rickety rolling cart, rain or shine, evidently. She was wearing a bonnet today, protecting her curls from the downpour outside and the encased heat of appliances inside. While she handled her undergarments in the sink nearby, you folded one dry load of clothes, squatting to toss in another just as the bell tolled again.

“Lord ain’t granting you no favors today,” Miss Wilson remarked, and though she was right, you couldn’t help but laugh at her tone. The petite thing had a way with words, keeping you amused enough to make the day go by easier.

But over all the noise, you hadn’t even heard the alleged customer approach and suddenly there were long legs in baggy jeans next to you. You glanced up at the intrusion, only for your smile to abruptly disappear.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Connie said, forearms perched on a washing machine. An unkempt goatee overpowered half his face, but it was him alright. Oversized sweatshirt making him seem bigger than the last time you saw him, hood pulled up and nearly soaked through.

“The fuck are you doing here, Connie,” you snapped, too cranky to watch your cussing in front of the elder down the aisle. “What do you want?”

“Jesus Christ, s’gonna be like that?” He tried looking innocent, but his shit-eating grin was wide as ever. “Not a hello? I haven’t seen you in months, don’t you wanna know how I am?”

You rolled your eyes, tossing the rest of the load in a tad overzealous before rising to stand, hands on your hips, even if acting tough was a lost cause when your ex-boyfriend had about a foot on you.

“You mean when I’m at my job workin’ all day, am I sitting here thinkin’ to myself ‘oh I wonder what poor schmuck Connie Nikas is bothering today’, like that?” Your patience was wearing thin, made worse as he swayed back to chuckle, shaking his head. “No, I fuckin’ don’t.”

“Oh, c’mon…” he drawled, moving in close to touch your elbow. “Don’t be like that.”

Miss Wilson tutted, casting a pointed glare through her glasses, lips pursed. “That white boy stinks’a trouble.”

“That’s because he is trouble, Miss Wilson,” you agreed with a smack to his hand.

Connie gaped, brows furrowing together in offense. “Trouble - I'm not - you goin’ around telling little old ladies I’m trouble?”

You scoffed and brushed past him, muttering to Miss Wilson you’d be right back as Connie carried on, whining as he trailed behind to the small office in the back of the mat. If he was going to make a scene, the least you could do was keep it away from the customers.

“Connie.” You grabbed him by the shoulders once the door slammed shut, giving a frustrated shake to snap him out of his ranting. Having your full attention directed at him, he finally quieted. Dared to look bashful as he slid back his hood, spilling out a mop of dark hair and the familiar scent of his shampoo. The corners of his lips pulled into a soft smile and you had to mentally scold yourself for thinking it was pretty.

Generally, you considered Connie a barely amicable ex; splitting up over two years ago wasn’t enough to keep him from popping by every few months. And while he could be fun to be around, it usually ended with giving him money. Or sex. Just like certain drugs, he was grimy and addictive, and somehow consistently overcompensated that with intelligent charm. Today, however, you were not in the mood to be compromised.

“What do you want?” you asked again, slowly.

“I wanted to see you,” he insisted, but his voice dropped an octave or two deeper in a tone that kept you skeptical. “Shit, I cabbed halfway across town to get here, s’that such a crime?”

He could be cute when he wanted to, and it was a fight to keep your face passive. “Depends on whether I believe you or not.”

Connie groaned your name, eyes clenched shut as if experiencing pain. You couldn’t help but let a laugh slip out as he lurched forward, forehead on your shoulder while his hands encircled your waist.

“You’re killin’ me…” He picked his head up only to set it on yours, grey eyes in complete focus. You should’ve pulled away, but you couldn’t. “I was feeling fuckin’ lonely. It’s miserable out there, I thought ‘let’s go see her, let’s see that pretty face’.”

“Oh, that’s real fuckin’ rich.” Only then could you attempt stepping back, but he merely pulled you closer, flush against his chest.

“Stop,” Connie pressed. “C’mon, I know you miss me sometimes, huh?” He nuzzled the tip of your nose with his and the struggle not to smile was even harder. “C’mon, say it.” A small shake of your head. “No? Not even a little? Bull shit.”

He leaned in for a kiss and you tipped your head back out of his reach, no longer able to hide the smile. You batted your eyelashes at him and he suddenly grabbed the back of your neck to keep you still. “Such a dirty fuckin’ liar,” he rasped, and his mouth was on yours.

The beard was new, but he kissed just like you remembered. All sharp teeth, tugging for entry, tongue hot, slipping between your lips. He tasted of coffee and cigarettes, with a hint of whatever toothpaste he used that morning. You let a whimper escape, reaching to run your fingers through his damp hair, and he quickly moved to grab your ass with both hands. Pulled you snug against him to feel the crotch of his pants.

You forcibly shoved at his chest, tearing yourself from him before that escalated any further.

“Alright,” you winced, then pointedly glared at Connie. “You need to leave.”

A pout puckered his lips but there was nothing but smugness in his eyes as he rose to his full height. You rushed to yank the door back open just to be distracted.

“I’ll go, I’ll go,” he relented, practically sauntering past you out of the office. But he sent one last look over his shoulder, winking as he pulled his hood back up. “Only ‘cause I’ll be seein’ you later.”

Night fell, the shift ended, and you spent about an hour mopping the floors before locking up for the day. After leaving the mat, you simply had to make the first left around the building and into the partly lit alleyway where there was a lone metal door that opened to a one-story walk up to your apartment upstairs.

You believed him, of course. You just didn’t realize how soon that would be.

The stairway was suspiciously quiet; typically by this time Baba would be scratching at the door to the sounds of your footsteps, eagerly waiting for her nighttime walk.

You called for her as you opened the door with your keys, not realizing it was already unlocked. A single bark from the living room was the dog’s answer and you turned the corner, stopping in your tracks at the sight that welcomed you.

Connie was sprawled on your couch watching TV, barely even acknowledged your presence with Baba the Pitbull curled comfortably into his side.

The day you’d had left you with no strength to throw a fit. It was your fault for continually forgetting he still had a key to the apartment. Instead you dropped your things in the small vestibule, grateful he’d at least taken off his dirty shoes and wet hoodie. He remained unperturbed in his jeans and a white t-shirt.

“You take her out at least?”

He nodded, raising the remote to flick the channel. “Wasn’t a fan a’the rain, but she took a piss.”

“Thanks, but you can’t stay, y’know.” You went into the kitchen and flicked the lights on, opening up the fridge and cabinets to get a meal started. “Believe it or not I’m seeing someone… Got off work a little bit ago, he’ll be here any minute.”

“Who you seein’?” he called from across the room.

“No one you know,” you assured him. Jay was as opposite of Connie as one could get, purposefully so. He was shorter and stockier and worked a steady job in IT.

“You kiss other guys like that when you were seein’ me?”

The affront had resided in your mind all damn day. It still wasn’t beyond you that he probably had an ulterior motive that didn’t involve what was in his pants. And maybe it was too easy to give in to him anyway, but the fleeting moment felt good, you couldn’t lie about that. Connie simply knew just how to get under your skin, and at times it was easier to cope with than others. Now happened to be one of them.

Amused, you eyed him over the counter only to catch him getting up to come and join you in the kitchen. Jay also wasn’t the jealous type, unlike Connie, who valued loyalty to him likely more than anyone you’d ever met.

“And deal with the headache of you finding out? I don’t think so.”

He seemed satisfied by that, and started futzing around the kitchen, stalking behind you in each direction you moved to make it impossible to ignore him.

“Tell him to fuck off,” he eventually said, a gentle directive.

“You fuck off,” you shot back, bent over to withdraw a big pot for the stove to whip up some pasta. “I appreciate you takin’ care of Baba, but I’ve had a long day, I’ve got dinner to cook, I’ve got comp-”

“I’ll cook you dinner,” Connie interrupted, his body hovering beside you, a warm palm on the small of your back.

“You’re gonna cook me dinner,” more a bold statement than a question as you cocked a brow at him, staring in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’ll cook you dinner.”

“Are you high?” You stood on the tips of your toes to inspect his eyes under the light. There was not a single instance in the time you’d known him that you could recall him ever cooking.

“Nah, you know that shit doesn’t work on me.” His expression was oddly earnest as he reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “C’mon, let me cook for you.”

This line of doting was about as new as the beard on his face. You eyed him warily; if you hadn’t known him better, you would’ve thought he was being… Sweet?

But the thought was cut short as there was a resounding rapping on the door. You cursed out loud, and Baba shot up from her spot on the couch, woofing at the intruder.

“I told you!” you hissed, putting space back between you. “The hell am I supposed to do now?”

Connie shook his head like he’d already given the obvious answer, whispering back - “Tell him to fuck off!”

“You’re unbelievable!”

“I’ll fuckin’ tell him.”

“You absolutely will not.”

He rolled his eyes and the knocking started up again. You smacked his stomach and he threw his hands in the air. “Tell him you’re sick.”

“Seriously?”

“Tell him you’re sick right now or I’ll open the door and tell him my goddamn self.”

The directive wasn’t so gentle this time, and it tickled some crevice of nostalgia in your brain, and you knew then that you’d do exactly what he said. You still groaned nonetheless, running your hands over your face.

“Why do I always listen to you?” You whisper-yelled, narrowing your eyes when Connie dared to offer a wolfish grin. “Don’t you fuckin’ answer that.”

Another knock made you jump as you approached the door and gave yourself a shake, doing a quick rehearsal of what you’d say. One benefit of working in a laundromat all day and not showering immediately after meant you probably looked worse for wear anyway.

You nearly opened the door when you realized Connie was following close behind. More whisper-yelling ensued and you shoved him around the corner, glaring when he leaned back on the wall with clear intent to eavesdrop.

“Hey, sweetie, sorry,” you cooed when you finally cracked the door ajar. If you let it swing open, Jay would probably swoop right in. He looked so cute standing there in his work polo, much too tight for his college football stacked body. He carried a bag of takeout in hand, with a backpack slung over his shoulder and you started to feel the slightest bit guilty. “Sorry for making you wait.”

“Everything okay?” Jay asked in a deep baritone voice, appearing genuinely concerned. Even tried peering inside over your head.

“Yeah - well, uh - no, not really. I’m not feeling so great.”

“For real?” He pulled out his phone to check for any messages. “You should’a texted me. I would’ve brought soup instead of Five Guys.” Beside the door, Connie perked up at that.

“Aw, babe, that’s too sweet,” you crooned, pointedly ignoring him. “I think I’m just gonna call it a night though. Probably caught somethin’ at work or this fuckin’ rain, right? I don’t wanna give it to you.”

Jay visibly slumped, but you reasoned it could’ve had more to do with staring at a screen all day than the disappointment of you canceling. “You sure, babe? Let me at least go back and get you somethin’ else.”

Connie was mouthing something and you chanced a glance at him, only to start coughing when he hushed out - “Udon - Udon from down the block.”

“Sorry,” you apologized again. “Stupid television. But no, it’s fine, I’m sure I’ve got something to pick at here.”

“Shit,” he muttered, sucking on his teeth. “Aight, well how ‘bout I swing by tomorrow, check up on you, play Doc if you need.”

“That would be amazing, baby. Hit me up, okay?”

Jay leaned in as if to kiss you but you veered back, making a gross face, clearing your throat for good measure. He shook his head but offered a sheepish smile and a reluctant goodnight before trudging back down the stairs. You stood there watching, waiting for him to get down and out the door to the alley before locking up again, muttering curses under your breath as Connie pushed off from the wall.

“Constantine Nikas, so fuckin’ help me,” you dragged out his full name just to show how annoyed you were but he was too busy teasing you and Jay, wagging his brows suggestively as he pulled you into his arms.

“Oh baby, please, don’t be mad at me, baby..” You tried backing away from him but he only held on tighter, smooching loud kisses on your face for emphasis and you couldn’t keep from rolling your eyes even if you were laughing. “I’ll make it up to you, baby. I’ll make it real good for you, baby, I promise.”

“You drive me crazy, y’know that?” you asked. But you were suddenly content with having turned Jay down for the night; annoyance ebbed away in waves, replaced with this playful sort of want in your limbs Connie was always able to draw out of you.

“Yeah,” he said, voice back to normal. His eyes ran over your body, one hand petting your hair as the other slid back and forth over your ribcage. His lips parted, jaw slackened, and you knew the expression all too well. “Yeah, I’m real trouble.”

You squealed when he scooped you up, wrapped your legs around his waist and carried you down the short hall toward your bedroom. The door slammed back against the wall, Connie blindly slapping around for the lightswitch before you both tumbled onto your bed.

Finesse had never been Connie’s strong suit, but you couldn’t knock his determination. Your hair caught in your shirt when he tore it off and it was a battle of arms between undressing and heavy kissing. There was flooding arousal in the scandal of it all; the dangerous ex you’d sworn yourself off of time and time again, nestling between your dutifully parted thighs as if he belonged there.

He had always been trim but you only ever felt small trapped under his frame, his strength surprising, pinning you down, one large hand on your tit stretching your bra until it screamed in protest, pinching your skin as it came undone.

Cheap tattoos littered his pale skin, so utterly Connie, and when you whined pathetically, he merely grinned. Sharp teeth raking over his bottom lip as he made work of removing your pants.

“You fuck him yet?” he rasped at you, voice hitching with each tug down your legs.

“Why, you wanna fuck him?”

“You see the size a’that guy?” Connie asked. Your pants were lost to the floor and he groaned at the sight of you, hiked your knee past his shoulder so he could drag his mouth along the meaty flesh of your thigh. “He would end up breakin’ me.”

“Like he breaks me?” you teased. And it was worth the flash of possessiveness in his gaze, a dark flicker of light in those grey eyes.

“S’that right?” There was a shift in his demeanor and suddenly a fist was in your hair, jerking at the nape of your neck so sharply, you yelped. In the same fell swoop, his other hand snaked beneath your underwear, fingers forcefully searching for purchase and he hummed at what he found. “That why you so wet for me right now?”

“Connie-” you were cut off as two long fingers sunk inside of you, deep, and curling just so that your lashes fluttered and your lips trembled.

“No, no, tell me,” he went on, hovering right above you. Close enough to kiss if it weren’t for the tight hold on your hair. A painful temptation as he started a quick pace, fingers wetly slicking in and out of your cunt, and your hips bucked at him. “Tell me how he does that, when you’re on your back here just for me.”

“Just for you,” you told him. Connie liked that, the feeling of ownership. He got off on having power over people regardless of circumstance, be it on the streets or in the bedroom. Enough so that he’d felt the need to etch the very word into the skin of his back.

The ego stroke eased his expression but not the unrelenting rhythm of his fingers; brutally pumping inside you, seeking to finish you hard and fast. Pearls of beaded sweat coated your temple as you felt a throb of coiled heat twist painfully sweet in your cunt. You grasped onto his forearm in some silent plea for relief. Eyes clenched shut, crying out when his thumb teased along your clit.

"Don't do that," Connie scolded, voice low. The fist in your hair loosed and his hand drifted over your throat. "Look at me. Let me see you."

You looked at him despite yourself, overtaken by the intensity of his stare, watching you react to him with bated breath. There was a gaping absence as he withdrew from you, soaked fingers slicking toward your clit, stimulating in heavy circles. “What you gonna do for me, huh?”

Any response you might’ve thought up died in your throat; Connie abruptly hastened, furiously rubbing the swollen nub with the pads of his fingers. You wheezed out his name, spine arching from the bed. It was too much too fast. It was agonizing pleasure clouding your senses, erupting harshly from the pit of your groin, only to leave you wailing as you came.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” It was a longtime habit of his, talking you through it. And his husky voice might’ve been soothing now if you hadn’t been hurting with oversensitivity. You pushed his hand away, instead pulled him close in effort to cradle his arm, grounding you as the orgasm pulsated your core.

"Look at you.. So pretty for me." He nuzzled at your cheek, then your jaw, seeking. Claiming your lips in a bruising kiss that kept you breathless. His beard scratched your chin as he pried your mouth open, and you groaned weakly around his tongue.

You trembled underneath him as the kiss deepened. Marveled at how much your body craved his no matter how much time had passed. Wondered if his timing was purposeful that way; let you nearly forget the taste of him, the feel of his touch. Keep that ember glowing low so he could show up and stoke the fire in you whenever he pleased.

He was undoing his belt when he sat up. Made quick work of stripping from his jeans and boxers before sidling up close on his knees. Your underwear was an afterthought that he briskly removed before grabbing you by the hips. He stayed perched on his haunches and with one swift jerk you were flush against him, thighs parting wide for his cock to slip along your cunt.

It was the only part of him that wasn’t lean; that you would never forget. Anticipation thudded in your ribcage as Connie gripped himself. Smacked his cock against your clit, and you were still so sensitive, your whole body twitched.

“Gonna take it so good for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick, tattooed chest heaving at the contact. You wiggled yourself even closer with a quiet whine, and his lips parted into a sultry grin. “Knew you fuckin’ missed me.”

“You’re an asshole,” you snapped, followed by a yelp as he spanked your thigh.

“And you’re a fuckin’ dirty girl,” he sneered, then spat on your pussy. Completely unnecessary given how soaked you were, but it couldn’t be dwelled on. You were too overcome with lust, lifting your hips desperately to be filled.

There was no restraint to be spared when he snapped his hips, stuffing you to the brink with a throaty grunt. The stretch was dizzying, with no time to adjust before he reared back and slammed inside you once more. A new pace was set, rough and unforgiving, Connie’s hands drawn tight in vice grips around your waist.

He was never one to be gentle; it wasn’t in his nature. He preferred to linger on your body; to be felt for days. His thrusts were exacting and you simply had to endure the onslaught, even if it forced shrill sobs soaring from your lungs.

“Fuck, listen to you,” he grit out, heaved breath hitching with each forceful squelch of your cunt. Tousled hair fell into his face, but you could see his eyes blown wide, devouring your wanton display. A palm slid up your waist, stopping to cup a bouncing tit and his teeth bared in a breathless grin. “Just needed my cock, huh? Gonna cream all over me, baby?”

“Connie.” He could be so fucking filthy but you keened all the same, feeling your walls flutter around his thick cock, stretching, thrust after unyielding thrust.

You felt so full you could’ve wept when he pulled out, leaving you lewdly dripping after him. But with an almost tender twist of your nipple, Connie turned you over, hands pushy and demanding as he positioned you just how he wanted. His knees kept your thighs apart, spread eagle and ass in the air with one abrupt shove to pin you down on your chest.

You were throbbing again, needy and pushing back against him until his palm clapped across your ass. A wordless chastising that made you quiver, but a second later his cock sunk inside, impossibly deeper in a way that sent stars behind your vision.

The slap of his skin hitting yours steadily rose in time with another blooming orgasm, licking at the base of your spine, jolting your insides when his balls smacked your clit. Your moans grew hoarse, mouth hanging open on the rumpled blankets underneath you, saliva seeping into the cotton. All you could do was slur his name over and over, and Connie drove home harder, riled by the sound of it.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I wanna fuckin’ feel you.. Come on my cock, baby.” He reached down to snatch a harsh handful of your hair, and you thought you might be split in two. You were awash with incoherence, imploding pressure building in the depths of your belly and suddenly sharp teeth sank into the back of your neck. His bite gnawed into your skin and the stinging pain sent you over, deaf to your own volume, hips gyrating, only kept in place by Connie’s hold.

Utter drivel hissed from his mouth, sweaty forehead dug into your hairline. He spewed curses in your ear at the feel of your shuddering pussy, milking him before he followed suit. You took vindicated pleasure in the way he moaned, cock twitching heavily then dousing your walls with his cum. He lurched with one final thrust, so deep it hurt, filling you with his get.

His movements were lethargic as he straightened, hands on your ass, canting and parting your cheeks to watch his cock slide out. Connie groaned at the sight of you dribbling with his mess, and even with your back turned, you could swear his chest puffed with pride. You whimpered at the feel of his fingers, but he softly hushed you.

“I got you, I got you,” he promised, and his fingertips gently trailed your slit, feather light along your glistening heat. “Fuck.”

And just as you were about to relax, he drew his hand back and brought his palm down across you in one swift spank.

“Con’!” you squeaked, throat scratchy with exertion. But he was chuckling, shit-eating grin back on his face when he collapsed next to you.

“You still fuckin’ like that shit.” He turned to his side, arm snaking around your waist, and your limbs felt heavenly once you stretched out alongside him. Besides the fucking, you were suddenly reminded of your favorite parts of him, the rare soft spots. The vulnerable side he often refused to acknowledge; that pecked the tip of your nose, touch affectionate on your skin. “Don’t lie to me again.”

You pushed his hair back from his face, swallowing down the skip of your heart from the true smile that reached his eyes. He could be handsome if he wanted to be, too. It was lucky for you that he didn’t.

“Shave that thing off and get back to me.” He appeared confused at first, but then you covered his mouth with your hand and proceeded to pet the coarse facial hair. “You tryin’ to look tough or somethin’?”

“That is incredibly rude. How’d you like it if I talked smack on how you look-”

You cut off his whining. Climbed on top of him and kissed him. It was draining to do so; you could only imagine how sore you would be tomorrow. And there was exhaustion in him alike, a strained rumble resounded in his chest as you nibbled and flicked your tongue at the seam of his lips.

He was just beginning to return the fervor when you pulled back, breathing heavy. Used the new position to reach over the bed and collect his shirt. Connie pouted when you put it on, tried coaxing a grip around your calf as you climbed off and excused yourself to the bathroom.

Repercussions were tomorrow you’s problem, you decided as you plopped on the toilet. Face in hands, you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, feeling buzzed at what just occurred in the bedroom. A new perk in owning a laundromat - you could discreetly wash the sheets well before you even had to consider what to do about Jay.

“Sweetheart… Could I borrow some money?”

There it was.

You rolled your eyes as you flushed the toilet, briefly pausing at the mirror to fix the disaster that was your hair.

“Yeah, sure.”

Connie was in his boxers perched at an open window smoking a cigarette when you returned. Stared at you long enough to shrug at him in question.

“‘Yeah, sure’, that’s it?”

You approached him to steal a few drags of your own before spreading out on the bed; a taunting display in nothing but his t-shirt. You practically simpered at him. “Consider me prepared, got my own ‘Connie Rainy Day Fund’. I’ll take that over one a’them schemes you pull.”

He huffed in a way to suggest he could've been offended, but eventually the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He stabbed out the cigarette and came to stand before you, gaze lidded in a way that had you thinking he might be contemplating a second round.

“You staying or going?”

Connie climbed onto the bed, crawling the short distance to straddle your legs, hands set above your shoulders. You couldn’t help but squirm, imposing as he was, his face shadowed under the cropped curtain of dark hair. Soft spots be damned.

But his response was less intimidating.

Morning came and you woke alone, Baba the only other company in the apartment. This was unsurprising, and more importantly unoffensive. You’d known Connie far too well for far too long to be surprised at his bailing.

“I’ll get us breakfast in the morning.”

He’d gotten what he wanted, after all. Your body and your cash.

The savings for him wasn’t a lie; you preferred to be prepared where he was concerned; no amount was asked for or disclosed, he’d find out when he truly needed it and however many months down the road when he’d need it again.

It would remain unspoken that you hated to think what he and his brother would resort to when desperate.

After a quick - still rainy walk with Baba, you took a hot shower; sheets already tumbling away in the machines downstairs. It was just like any other day, after a strange blip of overnight bouts of unfettered sex. Nothing you wouldn’t sort out until -

“God fucking dammit, Constantine,” you swore at your reflection.

In the throes of passion, you’d completely forgotten about the clamp of his teeth on your neck, now aligned in a bright purple on your freshly bathed skin. This was a problem, this had to be explained and you felt like a teenager, already trying to think of ways to hide it or cover it up. You would have to just… abstain from getting physical with the guy you were dating.

And maybe the fucker intended that.

The train of thought was interrupted when you started at the sound of your front door swinging open. Baba barked and whimpered and you stuck your head out of the bathroom, only to balk at Connie kicking off his shoes in the vestibule.

“Easy, easy, girl. Off.” Your traitor dog still loved him, no matter how many times he walked out that door. “That’s a good girl, off. Good.”

He noticed you down the hall, frozen in the doorway of your bedroom, watching in complete shock. His own expression was unreadable. That would be unspoken too, what you both knew you’d been thinking about his absence that morning.

“Breakfast,” Connie announced, raising the takeout bags in his hands. He rifled around through one of them, searching for something. “Got the extra hashbrowns just how you like, but they didn’t have any chocolate milk.” He found what he was after and pulled out a chocolate brown bottle, gave the Hershey’s syrup an enticing shake before disappearing into the kitchen.

You picked your jaw up from the floor. This was fine. No big deal. Surely, he'd be gone after breakfast.

#connie nikas #connie nikas x reader #good time 2017 #good time movie #rob pattinson #my fic

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sassysnowglobe · 7 months

Text

Listen. Listen.

And yes, all of the below is giving "I've had too much to drink tonight and I know it's sad but this is what I think about" but I am allowing myself my once-a-year breakdown over the loss of my childhood dreams so leave me alone.

But anyway, the thing is... Usually I'm fine being as far on the aro/ace spectrum as I am. Relationship drama always seemed like a hassle, and I was raised in a very "love never lasts so why bother" household so why would I ever wanna settle for anyone who is less than perfect for me? Why would I 'waste my time' with people I don't feel 'In Love' with. Or worse; why would I waste THEIR time if I'm not in love with them? That just sounds cruel, yaknow.

But I was also raised on fairytales. On 'Happily Ever After', on True Love, on soulmates.

And sometimes. God. Fucking SOMETIMES.

I miss that like a gaping hole in my soul.

And the idea that I might genuinely be physically incapable of ever falling in love? It not only terrifies me sometimes, it hurts. It actively, truly, deeply hurts.

It's the big things that hurt, of course. It's the fear of being left behind. The knowledge that you'll never be someone's number one priority, because despite your friends being lovely that's just not how society works. The usual fear of 'dying alone', even though alloromantic people are also perfectly capable of dying alone due to the loss of their partner. The realization that you'll never have the romance that the little girl in the princess dress dreamed of and read about.

But god, on nights like these, where the wound is gaping and bleeding and bruising, it's the small things too. It's the knowledge you'll never get to introduce your partner at Christmas dinner. The knowledge you'll never have Your Person by your side when facing your family. You won't get to change your lock screen to your person, you won't have your 'plus one', you'll always have to dodge frustrating questions, you won't get that intimacy that friendship just doesn't, won't, can't provide.

And even though you KNOW the answer (god, in your bones you know the answer), it makes you wonder whether it's because you're incapable of romantic love or if you're just Not Good Enough for Anybody. It makes you wonder what you did wrong.

I saw someone say that your orientation shouldn't feel like a sentence. And most days, it doesn't. But on nights like these I feel the phantom cold of the metal on my skin, I feel the iron manacles weighing me down, and I wonder if I'm doomed to an eternity of perpetually being left behind.

I should mention that most of this is probably brought on by the fact that I haven't felt like myself since I came back from visiting my family a month ago, where I started my trip at my mother's and felt like a stranger to everyone I grew up around. It truly feels like everyone in my life is moving onwards, is walking their own paths, and I just got stuck somewhere. I got stuck, and have been for a while, and I hadn't noticed. And now that i have, now that it's pointed out to me at every corner...

I dunno. I deserve a night to sulk.

#the life and times of pieces #we're back to using this as my personal diary I guess #I love my friends i love them DEEPLY I just #Some fears cannot be vocalized #some facets of my personality are reserved for the internet only #and while my friends and the internet overlap (and thank god they do)#Some thoughts can only be put on paper and never spoken out loud

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sieglinde-freud · 7 months

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for the ask game: 2, 4, 5, 9, 17, 24, 29, 35

OOHHH THIS GONNA BE LONG under cut immediately

2. Least favorite main title?

i think this may upset some people but just of the games that i have finished (i havent played or finished every single fire emblem game… i know i know bad fan shut up) it’s prooobably fe7??? not because it’s bad. i do love that game. i just love it the least of every other game i played? i love all three of the lords a lot!! theyre just not my super favorites. i like the story fine, just not as much as other games. the gameplay is alright, but i dont think it’s anything to write home about. it’s a perfectly average fire emblem game all across the board i think. and that’s probably why i dont think about it too much? though, admittedly, ive only played through it fully once and that was like. five years ago? i could give it another run. i never did try hector hard mode, tbf… also huge shoutout to my lovelies sain and serra i love them so much…

4. What games do you wish to play next?

i dont know how often i mentioned it but i had a computer a while ago that just stopped working. like completely. the hardware is fine it just stopped functioning properly and ive taken it to literally every tech place and handed it to every computer junkie friend i have and nothing can fix it. and very unfortunately, it broke while i was in the middle of playing path of radiance. i dont really have anything else i can emulate it on right now, but if i could it’d be that. and of course, radiant dawn right after :)

5. What games would you reccomend to someone new?

toss up between 7, 8, and 13. they all have their strengths and weaknesses as entry points, but theyre all fairly simple in difficulty, and 7 and 13 were entry points for a lot of people who still love the game today, so theyre pretty easy to reccomend. 7 and 8 are easily accessible being able to emulate on like. most things?? even iphones with little hassle. 13 was also, up until very recently, very easy to grab off the eshop. i guess if someone asked me now compared to last year maybe i wouldnt say 13 for that reason? idk. 16* is also an option though, if only because it’s on the switch and while fairly different from the main fire emblem formula, it is VERY good at grabbing attention. im biased because i have used it to drag a friend into fire emblem hell so. i know it works. personally i’d probably go 7/13, 8, 16*, {the rest} but yeah. those four. move awakening down if hardware is an issue.

9. Least favorite character?

IN THE WHOLE SERIES??????? man… i dont know i dont really dislike a whole lot of characters? i guess the first one that comes to mind is gilbert three houses?? i understand why hes like that for sure and can sympathize but i dont know. everytime that hes on screen i just frustrated. the fact that he treats annette the way that he does bothers me a lot even if i understand why, but then theres also the added fact that he only becomes story relevant to replace dedue, who was a MUCH better and far less ANNOYING character to listen to all the time. like why would you replace one of my favorite students/retainers with this stupid little old man who i really have no reason to be attached to? you cant even recruit him during white clouds! not to mention, hes force deployed with the most garbage base stats (THAT YOU CANT CHANGE. BECAUSE. HE WASNT RECRUITABLE IN WHITE CLOUDS!!) in one of the hardest maps in the whole game in a position you CANNOT EDIT. like just GIVE ME DEDUE??????? you know, the CHARACTER I TRAINED??????? god… anyways so its probably him. this felt good actually i dislike him much more than i thought i did.

17. How did you get into Fire Emblem?

this is really embarrassing actually but when i was younger i was really into kid icarus uprising (i still am but like less so) and i reeeally loved pit like you see me with inigo now? that was pit for me back then. and i wanted more of him but nintendo was not giving me any kid icarus content, so what i looked up his voice actor instead, and i went through a lot of medias just to listen to him (did you know antony del rio did this live performance of maroon 5’s “This Love” that’s actually way better than the original? look it up) (no i dont like adam levine) but the one that stuck the most was this silly little game… you mightve heard of it its called Fire Emblem Fates. and i saw silas fire emblem and i was like WOAHHH. HES CUTE and did a ton of research on the series, having only vaguely known of it from smash bros. bought birthright, having learned it was the easier of the two paths, and then i just. entire life changed immediately and i didnt even know.

24. An FE title you wish would be remade?

all of them in order, which is what they already seem to be doing! so, ideally, fe4 next? of course my bias would LOVE an awakening remake but i dont think thats fair to skip all the other games. plus, i think there are other games that need a gameplay overhaul more. …like fe4.

29. Avatars: yay or nay?

i cant fucking stand the concept of avatars in fire emblem. i like all of them as characters. i think robin, corrin, byleth, and alear as characters (i havent played shadow dragon and new mystery sorry kris!) are fine. but i hate how theyre all implemented into all of their games, to the point where the words “byleth” and “alear” are never spoken in their mostly fully voiced games. its so fucking stupid. and then you have writing problems, like other playable characters not being able to have meaningful and lasting conflicts with the avatars because you have to be able to fuck them when the games over, or even during the game in robin and corrins case. and also the weird incest that has to happen if you want your avatar to have familial ties? god forbid people who just think camilla or ryoma are hot have to justify incest to themselves and read some the dumbest fucking s support bullshit just to have their little otome romance. and then the plot bending around them? robin i give a pass because i dont think awakening was annoyingly centered on them (the grima thing was close but for the most part the focus stays on chrom and i think thats a good thing) but as much as i love these games, fates, three houses, and engage all suffer from being a little TOO player pandering. making your character a god? really? especially when the avatar takes focus away from other potential story drivers (xander/takumi, 3h lords, engage royals) and like for what? i like all of the “avatars” as characters. but the way that theyre used and what little that usage does for any positive story impact is just frustrating!

35. What’s something you wish Intsys would just stop doing?

avatars.

#hi stedy :3 thanks for the hater questions that was actually really fun #i dont normally like being too pissy about things but god sometimes it is fun to just hate #asks #*editing bc i wrote 17 instead of 16 intitially i think three houses is the better starting point i just cant count

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ifianassas · 2 years

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where : campo de’ fiori square markets, rome. when : september 1503. who : amaranta de medici ( @benevclentia )

as they cross the markets of campo de' fiori, they are undiscerning — one noblewoman amongst many, even the brocaded cloth of their gown can not point them as anyone in particular, when there are many more people of high wealth or birth circulating amongst common and poor, each seeking items to waste plenty coin on. it was not bianca’s case, however, for they did not wish to occupy her guardsman’s arm, nor did they care to drag any more than a handmaiden that looms behind them, gaze set upon a cart nearby filled with costume jewelry ( they make a note to acquire some for the girl come the next saint day, as long as the piece picked was inconspicuous enough to not pass as an actual jewelry snooped from bianca’s dresser ).

clutching their purse of coin, the sforza’s lips twist as they take small steps around the cart, looking for something specific they did not know the exact appearance of, as they had only read about the herb on a book whose illustrator had not bothered with illuminating a drawing; perhaps on purpose, to keep enthusiasts from finding the piece of flora and discovering its attributes in full, but now — especially as they have ticked sofia off and can not seek out her guidance ( nor do they wish for her inquires ) — it is but a hassle nevertheless. frustration seeps through the well - crafted mask only by the insistent pursing of the lips, but before they may give in on their quest, the approach of another causes their brows to raise instead, annoyance in their expression becoming interest and probing curiosity. “may i ask, are you a regular in this stand?” an inquisitive nature goes well with a warm smile, so that is what they offer, with a tilt of their head. “i am looking for something my physician has prescribed, but i have lost the note, and i dread to disturb them for another and lose the trip down here. i believe it is a sort of leaf that works for soothing headaches ?” or worsen one, should one increase the dosage.

#𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀 — — — DIALOGUE : 𝑂 𝐺𝑜𝑑‚ 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑‚ 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝑡.#no gifs atm but please feel free to !#timeline : SEPT; 1503.

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dementedfilament · 2 years

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I finally relistened to a few of the Imperium videos, so I have Will/Kalila thoughts:

Will came across a humanborn, lying on the ground near death. Ah, he had seen this one before; she was the sweet little thing that would help him at the train station when he had to travel. He was taken by her after their frequent interactions, but alas, he’d put that cynical thought out of his mind and continue on. There was more value in trying to romance other prospects with more to offer. But now, here she was, bleeding out at his feet.

He knelt to her. Clutched tightly in her hands were what looked like the same paperwork he used when he left this boring city for even more boring business, or on the rare occasion, a semi-interesting vacation. She was trying to escape. They must have caught her stealing the necessary documents to get out of this hellhole, and she managed to crawl here in order to die peacefully.

A thought came to mind-he had gotten sick of Alexis and her attitude and handed her over to the Department already, so he had no progeny at his side at the moment. Admittedly, it had been a little lonelier without someone there, and trying to win over someone’s affection for territory was an obnoxious hassle that wouldn’t fill the void. So, what if he turned this girl to keep him company?

His thoughts traveled to their past interactions. She was so shy, with a warm smile despite there being nothing to feel joy over in this world. Kind, generous, meek, obedient. Well, that was other than this little stunt she clearly tried to pull, which made Will question his tendency to be attracted to those with a wild side. However, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes he made with Alexis. In fact, he had a fantastic idea.

When she awoke, Will introduced her to her new life eagerly. How things would work around here, and her purpose for being. He ignored her cries and begs to be let go, instead invoking her to avoid any problems later.

“You won’t be trying to escape me any time soon. You’ll stay in this clan as long as I wish you to, and I’ll remove you myself when that time comes to an end.”

That day, the king threw away her identity, tying her to the clan as closely as possible. Henceforth, his little humanborn-now-progeny would be known as “Kalila”, fulfilling every little craving for attention desires.

Kalila adjusted to this role much more quickly than she expected, though exasperated by it all. It began with Will calling her to his throne for someone to vent to, then he’d bring her on walks, then they’d feed together, then he brought her to his bed. There was a point where she was effectively his consort, and he would probably adore that title, knowing it still bound her to him while leaving him open to flirting with other royals without any strings attached to his plaything.

And in fact, that’s exactly what he did. When he was certain his hold on her absolute, no longer needing to invoke her to do as he said, and that she was undoubtedly loyal to her king and only to her king, he began flitting around with a sly smirk, searching for purpose when he felt he had none. Then, he’d return home to his lover, who welcomed him with open arms.

At some point, though, their relationship would reward Kalila with a new title to add to her name. While watching Will struggle getting his frustrating paperwork done one day, she offered to lend him a hand, to which he agreed. She caught on quickly to the job, not unnoticed by her sire, but that was only the beginning.

There was a person causing problems for the Solaire clan. One of their new freeborn was carelessly running amok, and while it didn’t bother Will that much, it was still a hassle for him. In fact, that he felt they weren’t even worth the effort it took to decapitate them. So when Kalila walked in on their conference together, he gave her a wicked grin and a single order: Kill them.

One person’s trauma was another’s opportunity. Though blood, tears, and a broken spirit, Kalila managed to reduce the offending vampire to the ashes flowing between her fingers. This was the first time she’d used her powers as well. Will was struck with a realization—he was so busy training her to be something akin to a house pet, he had almost completely neglected the powerful asset she could become. What a fool he’d been.

From then on, Will added training to her daily routine. Strengthen her magical capabilities, and a little bit of combat training. The King’s Right Hand, in the event that anyone was to misbehave again, then he’d have his own personal executioner to handle the job. And eventually, she’d be able to kill without invoking, just like the cute, obedient little thing he loved so much.

Sooner than he expected, the need for Kalila’s new killing talents arose. Will discovered the hard way that he ended up flirting with the wrong progeny of another monarch. And before she knew it, Kalila was wrapped up in an extravagant assassination scheme. After Will dolled her up, he’d send her to the right place, the right time, to slowly manipulate and seduce her way to a kill she could frame another for. The end result was a good setup for more territory for Will, to marry the new monarch, and to have Kalila kill them because they were boring anyways.

Yes, in this game of chess, William Solaire had a true Queen on his side. The longer they spent together, the more comfortable she became with her positions, the more expertly she could carry out her duties, and the more willingly she followed his orders. Dare he say it, he loved her.

However, things were a little different from Kalila’s perspective. The murder, the schemes, the sex, the drama, the overall dreary and hostile atmosphere she had to live in for god-knows-how-long since she certainly didn’t care to keep track of time anymore all that well. It’s not like she could escape after all, her attempt ruined long ago by the bastard of a king, and her Invoking keeping an even tighter chain against her freedom.

She adjusted to it, eventually. So sick of fighting the man on everything, she learned that obeying without question would be best for her survival. Hell, for many years, she even managed to delude herself into thinking she liked being in this hellhole, that she loved her king and loved his attention and loved being called to his bed.

But, perhaps it was when he began searching for partners elsewhere that she snapped out of it, be it jealousy, or simply common sense. He doesn’t love you. He loves your convenience. Though, it wasn’t until after he forced her to make her first kill that she truly felt her sanity slipping. The training was brutal, and Will wasn’t about to ease up on it, forcing her to undertake gruesome tasks so she could adapt to any situation her assassinations could turn into. And of course, that came with learning how to smooth talk, how to flirt, how to stay vigilant or otherwise eliminate any potential witnesses. He certainly put in the extra effort to ensure she could carry out her new duties as he desired.

And she did. And it made her numb. One day, she realized she felt nothing at all for her victims anymore. She felt no pain from killing, no remorse for her deceit, and frankly, she even got a bit of a thrill from it, a tiny shred of psychotic joy in this hellish lifestyle of hers. But even further than that, she held absolutely none of the love she thought she had for the man whose kept her trapped in this life. Once upon a time, she remembered feeling guilty for stealing all those papers and trying to run. The entire staff was killed as a result of her getting caught, all because she was selfishly trying to escape and find a safer environment to call home. She was eaten alive every day by her remorse, by her mourning, but now...who even cares? That was so many years ago anyways.

She hated him. She hated him. She hated hated hated him. Not that it even mattered really—his hold on her kept her from doing anything about it anyways. But, a peculiar thought occurred one night as she was polishing her backup knife: What would happen if William Solaire were to fall? She was his second progeny, but since the first was out of the picture, does that mean she would inherit his position? Admittedly, a small part of her feared the day when he decided she was no more useful than Alexis, and handed her off the exact same way. (Vincent would probably laugh his way to the throne as it happened.) How long could he please this unappeasable man before she was thrown away?

That wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t about to let it. So then what if...what if some cruel assassin were to sneak into the throne room and pick him off for her? As his loyal guard dog, no one could ever set fit in that room without her noticing, but what if she was “absent” for this? What if she showed up a little too late for the King’s death, and mourned him just as anyone else would (with maybe a few extra tears thrown in)? Mourned the poor, lonely man she felt such pity for in her days of naivete?

You taught me these skills. Now, I’ll use them to overthrow you.

Yes, in enough time, when this arrogant King least expected it, she would lovingly fawn over him as she always had, then pull the crown from his ashes. He wanted a Queen for his game so badly? She'd give him one—one with no use for her pathetic, narcissistic King.

You took away my only chance for freedom. Now, I'll make my own.

Quietly sneaking up behind him, she approached with her hair done up in her buns, and cutesy black outfit he had claimed to love on her. Step by step, she crept up behind his throne.

"Dearest?" He asked. "What are you doing?"

Putting on her sweetest smile, she popped her head around the throne, "I was thinking about you!"

"Were you? In that case, come here."

She playfully jumped into his lap, snuggling in close and remembering the days when doing this was miserable, then pleasurable, and now once again made her want to vomit.

"Are you alright? I sense murderous intent."

"I'm bored," she pouted. "I wanna kill someone."

"Patience, my dearest," he replied, running his fingers through her loose hair. "There will be plenty of nuisances to rid or soon enough."

'I'm looking at one,' she thought to herself. "Okayyyy!"

From then on, until the most opportune moment, this farce would continue.

#[ Echoes From the Multiverse ]#redacted asmr #redacted audio #William Solaire #Kalila Solaire #Beloved Desire #Imperium AU #not sure if I should put this in the main tag tbh #nor if I should put it in my ship tag #lmao #long post #idk if any of this makes sense #this was kind of a brain dump tbh

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sxugaryx · 5 months

Text

Medical Appointment (Fanfic)

New Chapter of my Angst series 💜

Carlo had recently woken up from his afternoon nap and Geppetto was glad that he was calm.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Geppetto was so frustrated he almost punched the wall, he is going to need to put up a sign to tell everyone to just leave them alone; Carlo now has a grin on his face and Geppetto is begging him again to behave himself, as he opens the door he is even angrier because he sees two familiar men in front of him, Simon and Paracelsus.

He unfortunately knows Simon well, Paracelsus not so much, he has seen him before while he had a few meetings with the alchemists but he never really bothered to talk to him aside from pleasantries.

“Uncle Simon!” Carlo shouted from behind and gave Simon a big hug, and Geppetto could see that he was in deep pain, specially because of his state.

Carlo gave a friendly wave to Paracelsus and that confused Geppetto, as they had never met before and he didn’t like where this was going, but he let them in and took them to the living room.

Paracelsus wastes no time in explaining why he is here, and how he came by last time when he wasn’t home, Geppetto is furious, how dare he try to use his son as a scientific experiment? He clenched his fist, he had to restrain himself because right now he wants to hurt him.

“Geppetto you might not understand, but I want what’s best for your son”

That’s fucking bullshit and he knows it, “Well, then help me understand”

“Mmm well” Paracelsus pauses and looks at Carlo, it’s best to have this conversation without him here, if he senses that he is a threat to his father he would probably break him in half, “Carlo sweetie, the grown-ups need to talk, why don’t you go and play with your uncle Simon?”

Before Simon can even say anything Geppetto speaks up.

“Yes Carlo, go and take your uncle Simon downstairs so you can play with him”

Carlo is beaming with joy and forcefully grabs Simon and drags him to the basement.

“I think you enjoyed that just a little” Paracelsus has a smile on his face.

“A lot actually, now, explain” Geppetto wants him to go straight to the point.

“Geppetto your son is special, with the arm of god his body has abilities that aren’t normal for a human”

“Is that why he is so strong?”

“Yes, and much more than that, did you know that when he got sick it was actually Influenza?”

“What?!”

Paracelsus explained some of the tests he did leaving out certain information of course and he also explained how Geppetto just by being near Carlo he is getting some of the same properties.

“What’s your goal here? If you-“ But Geppetto was interrupted.

“I won’t harm him, trust me, the healthier he is, the better for me, plus I already have Simon to do the more, invasive, tests” Paracelsus smiles even wider, it just makes him so happy to run tests on Simon.

“And why should I cooperate with you?” Geppetto doesn’t like this at all.

“Because I know you caused the frenzy and I can blow the whistle whenever I want”

Geppetto bites his lip, then he has no choice.

“I also know about Carlo’s very fun hobby, although I’m surprised he hasn’t killed in a while”

“Shut up”

“Do you know how many people your son has killed Geppetto?”

“No, and I don’t want to hear it, shut up, he doesn’t know any better”

For a moment Paracelsus thinks about telling him, or at least imply that it is in the double digits, but again, he doesn’t want Carlo to realize that Geppetto is angry at him.

“Forgive me, let’s not fight, we can work together without a hassle if we agree on a few things”

“Like what?” Geppetto is trying to calm himself but it’s hard to do so when it involves Carlo, he doesn’t care what happens to him, but he won’t let anyone harm his son, not ever again.

“I need to run tests on Carlo from time to time, and I need you to just be a good father and tell your son how brave he is for staying so strong while the doctor is giving him a check up”

Geppetto closes his eyes in frustration, but he has no choice in the matter and it’s best to try and “get along” with Paracelsus, or at least not be hostile.

“If you hurt Carlo in any way, I’ll kill you myself before he does it” It’s not a threat, it’s a promise, not all puppets got destroyed, and Geppetto still has the universal command to control them.

“You have my word that I won’t”

“Do we have a deal then?” Paracelsus can tell that Geppetto is still fully convinced so he decides to give him something fun.

“I’ll let you borrow Simon when we do them, let me give you a little break from caring for Carlo, his uncle should be able to babysit him from time to time”

“We have a deal then”

Paracelsus let out a small laugh, but unfortunately for Geppetto he wasn’t done talking.

“Now, remember how I mentioned how being near Carlo is also affecting your health?” Paracelsus takes his tools out and he sees a shiver going down Geppetto’s spine.

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be quick this time” he says as he holds a syringe. “Now be a good boy like your son and hold still”

——

Simon knew that Carlo was insane but he didn’t think he was this insane.

Carlo was playing with his “toys”; Geppetto must be as insane as well because why the hell did he build his son this? The worst is seeing the puppet that was built of Venigni, he knew him in the past, and everything about it felt so wrong.

Carlo thinks they are the real ones, hell he thinks that stupid teddy bear is the real Romeo, Simon doesn’t understand how that’s even possible, how he is so delusional, but he isn’t crazy so obviously he wouldn’t understand.

Simon sees Carlo become quiet, extremely quiet and it’s starting to worry him, and he isn’t prepared for what he hears when Carlo finally speaks up again.

“Uncle Simon… where is Sophia?”

He doesn’t know, how would he know? Carlo isn’t his brother.

“I miss her, I haven’t seen her in so long”

Simon stares at Carlo, who is looking at him expectantly, should he lie and say she is alive? If he does that then he is going to start making excuses of where she is supposed to be, and worse why Carlo can’t see her. Even if he is honest would Carlo believe him? Would his mind process that Sophia is dead or will it just refuse to accept it?

“Sophia is…away”

“Away where?” Carlo asks so innocently.

“She is living now with some relatives that aren’t from Krat” It’s the best excuse he come up with, “I’ve told you before right? That our family comes from somewhere else?”

“Mmmm” That’s all Carlo says, and Simon starts to get worried about whether Carlo will ask for more clarification but he seems to be content with that and stops asking.

He stops asking about Sophia but he won’t shut up with his questions.

“What are you sick from?”

Nothing, Paracelsus is just a maniac that keeps him sick against his will.

“It’s complicated Carlo you wouldn’t understand”

“Does he care good care of you?”

No. “He does”

“Do you like him”

“Yes” there is no hesitation in his voice this time.

There was a pause.

No, that’s not true I don’t like him.

You love him.

No, no, no I don’t like him, I don’t love him, I hate him, I hate him.

“Uncle Simon, what’s wrong?” Carlo asks, and Simon realizes that he is shaking and small tears are rolling down his eyes.

Simon falls onto the floor, he is now on his knees.

“Are you feeling sick?”

Simon can’t speak, he doesn’t even know what he feels anymore, but Carlo hugs him, gently this time, and Simon hugs him back because he really needs to feel comfort, to feel warmth.

Thankfully he manages to compose himself and stand up again. He lets out a sigh a pats Carlo in the head.

“You are a good boy Carlo”

——

Carlo and Simon are now upstairs, and Geppetto looks very uncomfortable but he is trying to put up a strong front so as to not let Carlo notice.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Dammit, he noticed.

“Yes Carlo, I’m fine, I just… don’t like injections”

Paracelsus rolls his eyes, that was nothing compared to what he does to Simon, and Geppetto is going to have to get used to getting tested as well.

“Aww Carlo look at that, you are even braver than your daddy”

Carlo has a smile on his face and Geppetto is giving Paracelsus a death stare.

As they are making their way to leave, Simon has an idea, he isn’t going to let Paracelsus go outside with his ego intact.

“Carlo before we leave, why don’t you give Paracelsus a hug? He is going to be your special doctor so he deserves your love too”

“Wait” Paracelsus tries to protest but-

“Go ahead son, Paracelsus is like your new uncle, give him one of your big hugs, to show how much you love him” Geppetto says.

Before Paracelsus can say anything else Carlo hugs him, a suffocating hug, too suffocating, when Carlo finally lets go he falls to the floor, desperately gasping for air.

He looks up to see that Geppetto and Simon both smirking, Carlo is beaming with joy and saying how happy he is to have a new uncle. Before Paracelsus can get up again, Carlo gets closer and whispers something in his ear.

“I know”

Paracelsus feels dread, Carlo knows that he is special, he might not know exactly how but Carlo knows and he is now taking advantage full advantage of his strength; That he shouldn’t underestimate him, and Paracelsus won’t make the same mistakes because God knows what the boy has up his sleeves.

When all is said and done, Geppetto turns to look at his son.

“Carlo, you were a really good boy today, do you want Daddy to play with you?” Geppetto doesn’t like the games Carlo makes him play, but today his son deserves a small reward.

#lies of p #lop #liesofp #lies of p game #lies of p fanfic #lies of p geppetto #ao3 link #this is in ao3 too #lies of p carlo #lies of p simon #lies of p giangio

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thelikesoffinn · 7 months

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So...I finally played Bustafellows.

And this game is…I’m sorry, it really is a mess and a half.

Generally speaking, the art is really nice and pleasant to look at. The sprites are nicely done for the most part – not counting Shu’s hand. Wtf is wrong with his hand. – and the backgrounds, albeit generally uninteresting, do suit the entire game well.

The voice acting is also really nicely done. It’s one of the few truly enjoyable things about this game. The voices are well chosen and suit their respective characters. Characters who, for the most part, are good. They’re pretty cliché and we’ve seen this combination of archetypes about a million types by now, but that’s probably why it work so.

Everything outside of these few points? Woof.

On the mechanics side, the game flunks out on its controls. The button choices are far from intuitive and its gets frustrating really fast when you keep quick saving while actually trying to open the menu. Manoeuvring through the game is a fiddly hassle, made difficult by the extremely odd menu layout and button assignments. Choice wise, the game is an absolute farce. A game of this length should have a lot more choices, but that’s simply not the case. In fact, there’s episodes that don’t have any choices at all.

Not that it matters, seeing as the choices never actually seem to do anything. So far, it seems that only professor sauli’s test matters in the long run. This is the thing that decides which male lead you’ll end up with and that is pretty much the only thing of interest in the entire main part. And even then, apart from your choice of swimwear and the name of your feline companion, this doesn’t change much until you get to your male leads A-Side. (The a-sides also seem to have little choices of consequence. Mostly one or two, depending on the male lead you’re romancing.)

This means that replaying value borders zero, since nothing ever changes. And, seeing as skipping and jumping are either slow or annoying to do, it’s actually more of a -10 than a 0. This is made more annoying by the fact that you have to play all the routes to unlock the actual ending.

A thing that really bothered me personally because I literally just don’t understand why they went through the trouble is the female leads name. Not that it is Teuta, but that we can change it for some reason. Why? Why allow me to change the first name and only the first name? For what reason would anyone want to change only the first name and nothing else? Especially since all it does is add weird gaps to the voice over?

Either give me a character I can make myself entirely or stick with Teuta as a heroine for this one. This entire name thing is just dumb.

Another thing: Typo’s and weird phrasings. There’s quite a few of those, which is just…it’s just sloppy for a game that costs this much. I mean, what is this? Is he called Zora or Zola? Choose one, game, but don’t give me both! And I thought Sauli did criminal psychology? Why does his test say ‘Phycology’? Phycology! What, does he study algae on the side? Jesus.

And then there’s that mess of a plot.

Now, the initial premise of the story was nice. Girl can time travel, but won’t know which body she inhabits and where she’ll be. She meets a couple of dudes that play the system to punish those that would usually swim through legal grey areas and they partner up. There’s a mysterious ploy going on and girl wants to find out what’s up.

Great. It’s a pretty common set up, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. The time travel thing puts a nice twist on things as well.

Darn shame the initial set up already set’s the course for this entire thing.

The Prologue is done very sloppily, almost haphazardly. There’s absolutely no reason to repeat the entire conversation we’ve had with Limbo two times but they do. They straight up copy pasted it and added a few more sentences as deviation to throw players off their scent. It feels so incredibly redundant because barely anything changes.

The first few episodes – until we get to the a-sides – feel somewhat connected. They each have their own plot, but we can sort of see where it is supposed to go and what it wants from us. Now, does that mean it’s well done?

Absolutely not. Big questions will be ignored as soon as they’ve been uttered aloud and no one mentions them again. The characters, set up as smart and suspicious by nature, never question certain things that every normal human usually would. They just shrug and bumble off because – oh look! Amusement Park!

Teuta’s grandly introduced time travel power is absolutely useless and she rarely does more than use her phone to call someone and warn them. So, at some point it just becomes annoying whenever she decides to use it.

And then the ending ending.

The a-sides don’t fare much better. They vary in quality and the story seems nearly entirely random in quite a few of them. Shu’s story, for example, was generally fine.

Limbo’s felt like a bad fever dream that skips from one scene to another without proper explanation as to why this is important. (Like Evan. Why? Why this scene? Why introduce this character one minute only to kill him off and forget him the next? And the game does things like that all the time. It’s just random and messy.)

All in all, it’s fair to say that this game is not worth the money. If, and only if, you can get your hands on it for really cheap, fine. Go for it. But as long as that’s not the case, just walk away. Walk as far as you can.

Gods below, we don’t talk about the ending ending. It was horrendously bad.

The ending ruined a lot of decent characters for no reason other than ‘I can.’ Other characters were suspicious the entire time, so the element of surprise was also not really a thing. But I don’t want to spoil anyone, so I’ll leave it at that.

#bustafellows #limbo fitzgerald #limbo #shu lyn o'keefe #shu #mozu #helvetica #crow #teuta #visual novel #otome games #teuta bridges #new siege

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socialvinod · 10 months

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Choosing The Best Freight Forwarding Companies Near Me

Introduction

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Making the Final Decision

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Q 2: What services do freight forwarding companies typically offer?

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Q 3: How can I evaluate the experience and expertise of a freight forwarding company?

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Q 4: What role does technology play in freight forwarding operations?

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Q 5: How do freight forwarding companies determine their pricing structures?

A: Freight forwarding companies consider factors like shipment volume, distance, mode of transportation, customs requirements, and additional services required when determining their pricing structures. It is important to discuss pricing and cost breakdowns with potential companies.

Read More: Click Here

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brilliantpride · 10 months

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Stupid fucking Magecraft stupid fucking Baobhan-Sith stupid fucking get her out of here. She feels like she's been wandering forever. Of course it's always the Chaldea hallways, too. Always the ones covered in ice, can't even be the empty ones back at Novum Chaldea, or the ones from the old Chaldea before they got iced. Always has to be damn cold in here. Yako punches a wall and sighs, but keeps walking, hoping at some point she'll come across a door or something.

"Damn, when will you just give it a rest?"

Yako glances to her side, and sees another self walking beside her down this endless, empty hallway. She scoffs. "Finally! I was starting to get lonely. So, what, you're here to bother me until I break down emotionally and give up, like Aphrodite and Mnemosyne?"

"Woooow, straight A's! She can use that brain!" The smile on the other Yako is toothy and insincere. "And you know what? I cooould take it slow and gentle, but why don't we cut to the chase? You like it rough anyway, right?"

Before Yako can answer, she finds herself in the clinic. Asclepius throws a pile of papers at her, his face as cold as ever. "That's what the data says. You've burned out your magical circuits too badly to use magic anymore. Your Servants have been dismissed. It took all of my genius just to keep your idiot self alive, let alone conscious, so be grateful you're even standing here to hear the news."

Ah, hey, that's unfair. Yako takes the papers and stands up, tossing them in the trash as she goes. "So what? I still have…" …No, she doesn't. She reaches for her side, but Calesvol isn't there. "Nevermind. I gotta get going." She slams open the clinic door - to see Ritsu and Mash's waiting faces outside. "Uh, 'scuse--"

"Are you all right? You really pushed yourself in that last battle," Mash pipes up. "It was pretty reckless to do what you did."

"And what did I do, exactly?"

The Mash-alike pauses, searching her brain. Ritsu pipes up. "It was reckless and irresponsible." Their words cut right to the quick. "Yako, I just can't have you on my team if you're going to put everyone in danger like that again. Including yourself."

"…" Yako clenches her jaw. Not like they're never doing reckless shit themself. Have they forgotten about the gun that eats away at their life-force to function? --No, hang on, don't get worked up. It's a misery dream, remember. And they still haven't said what she's actually done… though she can fill in the blanks for herself.

Ritsu turns their back on her. "I didn't want things to turn out this way. I thought I could give you a chance, but clearly, I was mistaken."

"Hey, wait a--" Ritsu's already walking away. Yako reaches out a hand, but flinches back at the last minute. "Right… Illusion. It's not them. But… I guess… I can be pretty reckless."

"Damn right you are." Oh, now that's a familiar voice. Your worldbuilding is breaking down, buddy. Yako turns to look at Kama with a nonplussed expression. "I'm always cleaning up after you. And you know what? I'm damn tired of it. I didn't ask to be a Servant in the first place, then I get stuck with an idiot like you, and then I'm forced to be your fucking babysitter? It's torture."

…There's nothing she can say to that. It's completely true. As much as she hates it. Yako's hand curls into a fist, nails digging into her palm, her tail frustratedly swishing behind her. (Why is she getting so worked up? It's a fake. But… it's not like it's a lie.)

Kama glares at her with the fury of a god. "You act like a child, and then get frustrated when people treat you like one. Pick a fucking side. No wonder everyone thinks you're a hassle."

"Ouch."

"That's all you have to say? You're a selfish asshole, you know that?"

"…I'm sorry."

"It's like pulling teeth with you." The scene melts away again - no clinic, no hallway, just the bleached-white earth and its crumbling ruins. Kama grips Yako by the shirt collar. "Always 'sorry' at the last minute after nothing can be fixed, because you're too cowardly to apologize when it's actually useful. Always 'sorry' after you've been backed into a corner. Do you even hear yourself? Have you ever thought about another person besides yourself?" They shove Yako away, and turn away with a disgusted expression on their face. "Do you even care about me, or do you just want to use me like everyone else does?"

Yako opens her mouth, and closes it again. Will talking make it worse? Will not talking make it worse? "I-I do care. I really do! You're important to me! I didn't realize how much until you used up your name for me, and--- and I know I won't ever be able to repay you for that, and I was scared of losing you, and I just…"

"This isn't about you!" a thousand voices scream at once. Kama's gentle galaxies turn burning-bright and all-consuming. "…Deal with this shit yourself. I'm tired. Bye." With that, Kama rips open a hole in space and disappears.

And Yako is on her own, once again.

She brings herself to her feet and wanders around. Her heart feels like it's breaking. With every step, she feels further from herself, lost in her own thoughts again.

"Nobody listens to me," her voice echoes. She didn't say that. "Nobody tries to understand me. I mess up everything I do, no matter how hard I try. Especially if I'm trying not to mess up. Why won't everyone get off my back?"

"Who's there?! Stop reading my mind!" Yako whips around, looking for anyone else. "Shut up! Just shut up! I don't want to hear any more!"

"I don't want to hear that I'm not trying hard enough. I don't want to face the reality that I'm not. I don't want to face the truth."

"Please, stop! I don't… want to hear this anymore…" She covers her ears, her heart aching and throat tightening.

"Whenever people ask me why I want to be a hero…"

A figure steps out from behind a wall. It's… herself? "I answer, 'Because I want to help people!' But it's not true, not really. I want to be adored. I want people to think I'm cool. I feel like if I burn myself at both ends for other people, I'll be loved - because I don't really understand what real love is like. As much as I want to tell myself that I'm human, is it really true? Was I ever human to start with?"

"Shut up…" Her voice is breaking. "Shut up, shut up, I don't want to hear this anymore… I hate this. Why is it a bad thing if I want to be loved? I'm sorry I didn't get the handbook when I was born! I'm doing my best! I don't know how to do better!"

"Aww, I know." Her mirror's voice is so gentle. "Even if everyone gives up on you, I know you did the best you could." She can hear the sneer to it. "Don't worry, nobody's ever going to hear about your journey. Even if they do, they can't tell anyone, or you'll get hit with a Sealing Designation by the Mages Association faster than you can say 'Oops'. Nobody's going to know about the sacrifices you had to make or how hard you pushed yourself, or about your time in Tartarus's maze, or about how you were personally trained by several historical figures, yes, personally, don't you believe me? And nobody's going to know about all your mistakes, either. It'll all be just a dream come morning, and you'll wake up in your bed wondering what the hell to do with the rest of your life. Your parents will wonder why you don't just get a normal job like everyone else your age. Sure, they gave up on their dreams for you to strike it rich where they couldn't, but you could still make a modest living in a cubicle somewhere, right? It's not the worst way to live. You'd still be able to do some LARPing as a part-time hero in your spare time."

Yako sinks to her knees. Her mirror crouches down next to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. "So, really, it's in your best interest to call it quits now. It's a sunk-cost fallacy that's kept you in it this long. Ritsu doesn't need you. Mash definitely doesn't need you. Kama, Connla, and Cú Chulainn? They won't even remember you. Everyone can save the world without you. …If there's a world left to be saved, that is. I mean, it'd suck if you were doing all this and then were left with a bleached-white Earth and no future ahead of you, right? All those worlds and their people, that you just…" she snaps her fingers, "…out of existence. While they were sleeping, too! But, mhm, yep, Ritsu can definitely take the blame for you. It'll be like you weren't even there at all.

"So why keep going?"

…That's the real question, isn't it.

Are you waiting for an answer? Do you really want to hear it? Obviously, you already know everything! But…

"Move."

One foot in front of the other.

Yako stands back up. Slowly, deliberately. "…It's okay to hesitate. It's okay to be afraid. But don't stop." She steadies her breathing and lets her hands fall down to her sides. "Don't ever stop. Don't ever retreat. Don't ever go back. Wherever the living go, that's where Humanity goes."

Yeah. Okay. She can do this. She takes a deep breath in, and exhales slowly. "You know, this is one of the nicer mental manipulations I've been through. I mean, you're not trying to overwrite my personality, or erase my memories, just… make me give up. But the thing is, I'm just too dumb to know when to give up." She puts her hand out to her side… and feels someone holding it, though it's only for a moment. "You did give me some stuff to think about, so thanks for that. But you left out some other stuff, too. It's not just me and Ritsu out here. It's not just our Servants, either. Everyone in Chaldea is working together to save our world, and there's a lot of people in there way smarter than me. I know they can figure it out."

"But what if they can't?" her mirror laughs. "You've cried yourself to sleep thinking about it!"

"We will."

Her voice reverberates sharply across the dreamscape. The bleached-white surface begins to crack open; the structures around her start to crumble. Beyond her vision, a star shines bright. Her mirror regroups herself. "If you think things are going back to normal once you're done, you're only kidding yourself. There's no going back for you. The blood won't come off your hands. The stench won't leave your body. So why keep fighting?"

Yako pauses.

Yes, it's true that the blood will never come off her hands. She accepted that long ago - told herself never to turn away from the reality of her role. She's taken lives - human lives, when you include the Olympians - and stained her armor with their blood. She delights in battle, craves the sport of it, the moment when everything is on the line and her life flashes before her eyes. Someone trying to interrogate her fears should know better than anyone… "I already told you I'm too stupid to give up. I want to keep going as far as I can go. So long as I'm alive, I'll never stop walking towards that light… Towards my ideal. I'll never be a hero - I'll never even get close - but that doesn't mean I should stop trying to be one. No, it's because of that ideal that I've been able to make it this far, and while I'll keep going, and why I'll never, ever stop trying to reach it. The future I'm fighting for is one where even some nobody like me can have that chance - the chance to be better than they were yesterday."

The rumbling grows louder. Even the sky is crumbling. Everything is falling away as something cracks, cracks, breaks.

"…Well, I'll be damned." The scene finally falls away, the curtain closing on its actors. The one using Yako's voice mumbles to himself. "Were humans always this resilient?"

#t: lbvi.#journal.#garden thoughts..........#im slowly writing out a few different scenes that i had thoughts about #lb6 spoilers /

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the-lone-witch-and-secret-room · 3 years

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The Blight children and toxic behaviors

Some poor soul on Instagram made the mistake to ask me a couple of questions on the Blight siblings that got me to finally write out what’s been on my mind for a very long time about the Blight children and their relationships and behaviors.

The Wrong Antagonist

Up until she meets Luz, Amity tries her best to be the “ideal” child their parents want all of them to be, gets amazing grades, spends her free time studying, picks the friends her parents want her to have.

She does this because she wants her parents to love them, but in doing so, by being everything their parents want her to be, the twins think she raises the expectations for everyone. She even gets the twins in trouble by telling on them for skipping to look better, because she’s so frustrated of them getting away with things, with being told it’s a shame she doesn’t have her siblings’ magical skills, while they don’t have the same insane expectations to meet.

Thing is, this actually isn’t true. They’re under the same amount of pressure, they just handle it differently, and their parents are INTENTIONALLY making it seem like the other siblings have it easier to serve their purposes.

Their parents tell the twins they want them to be more like Amity, and Amity she should be more like the twins. No matter what they do, it’s never good enough, because their sibling is better.

This achieves exactly what it’s supposed to: provide “motivation” to improve by making the kids try to one-up each other with their skills, and point out each others flaws to their parents. This way, they learn of things the kids are doing that they’re not supposed to, while also getting them to target each other, rather than having each others backs and teaming up to call their parents out on their bullshit.

They resent how much “easier” their siblings have it, and this prevents them from finding comfort in each other and figuring out how messed up this situation is as a whole. It’s not difficult “because the others make it more difficult for me by being better than me”, it’s a shitty situation because their parents treat all of them as not good enough. Even “ideal” child Amity isn’t enough for them.

This isn’t a competition they are ever meant to win.

The only way out is seeing through it, rebuilding bridged with each other and continuing to play by their own rules—but that’s exactly what their parents are trying to prevent.

Once the Blight siblings start communicating with and supporting each other rather than antagonize each other, the whole system falls apart.

“Tough love”

During Lost In Language, the exact wording the twins use in reference to their diary revenge plan is “Amity NEEDS this” “It's for her own good” rather than “Amity DESERVES this”, which is very interesting.

To an extent, this is just them trying to get out of responsibility for what they’re doing... but they also genuinely think this is right. That they’re doing what’s best for Amity by embarrassing her and revealing her most private thoughts to the entire school. This is of course utter bs, but lets get into why they’re doing this.

That it’s not genuinely malicious actually makes it so, SO much worse. They’re trying to get Amity to “loosen up” because how she’s behaving currently is, as previously stated, making all of their lives more difficult, and also just isn’t good for her. But posting her diary all over school IS, because it will get her to finally see things their way.

They just decide what’s best for Amity without taking her feelings into consideration, and without realizing how hurtful this is, because that’s how they’ve been raised to believe these things work.

Their parents probably did similar things, framing severe punishments as “necessary evils” to help them grow more responsible, etc.

Even when Ed and Em think they’re being rebellious (and deciding Amity would be happier if she was, too), they’re still stuck in their parents mindset.

What’s interesting about this is that to an extent, Amity actually does this, too, but with Willow.

Her patronizing words of encouragement in I Was A Teenage Abomination are more than just that—Amity isn’t just needlessly cruel, at the same time she’s telling herself she’s “helping” an old friend get better grades. It’s tough love, yes, but tough love works, right? Ultimately this will be GOOD for Willow. She’s also “helping” Willow by putting her down in Hooty’s Moving Hassle—“it’s not her fault she was born without talent” gets the others to move along and not bother Willow anymore in that scene. But coming from Amity, it also hurts a million times worse than it could coming from Boscha or Skara.

Amity genuinely still thinks what she’s doing is what’s “best” for Willow—but without ever actually taking Willow’s feelings into consideration.

She can’t actually encourage her, so instead she does it in a way that really hurts Willow, but at least she’s still encouraging her and telling her she believes in her! She can’t actually stand up for Willow, but at least she’s “protecting” her by making a jab that renders her so worthless the others don’t even bother teasing her anymore! That’s so much better than it would be without her intervention!

Except it isn’t.

Amity isn’t helping Willow. The twins aren’t helping Amity. They’re executing the same “though love will motivate you/make you happier” and “I know what’s best for you” bs their parents are pulling on them.

That’s how they were raised to believe the world works.

Others know what’s best for you, and you know what’s best for others, and if they don’t see it your way, you make them see it your way.

I also have a bunch of theories concerning Edric’s and Emira’s relationship, but that’s for another post.

The message here is that I really, really want to kidnap the Blight kids and remove them from the environment that taught them these behaviors.

Also, to be very, very clear here, in case that for some reason is misunderstood: Edric, Emira and Amity aren’t terrible people, and they’re in no way to blame for thinking this is appropriate behavior. They’re abused kids that were raised to think this way and are only slowly being confronted with different mindsets. Amity was intentionally removed from a healthy environment (Willow), and from what we’ve seen of the twins, they don’t seem to have many friends, either.

They are in no way to blame for the beliefs their parents taught them, and fighting your way out of toxic behaviors you’ve been raised to see as right all your life can be really, really difficult.

Also, since this is something that apparently needs to be said… please stop hoping for redemption arcs/giving the benefit of the doubt to abusive parents of all people. “The abusive parents were actually just terribly misunderstood/didn’t realize their behavior was bad the entire time” is not a story anyone ever needs to hear.

#not spoilers!#the owl house #toh character analysis #toh #emira blight #edric blight #edric toh #Emira toh #amity Blight #Willow park #blight twins #blight siblings #edric and emira #amity toh #long post #analysis #eleena talks blight siblings

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sepublic · 3 years

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The Golden Guard: Eda’s Dark Parallel?

Does anyone else think that the Golden Guard actually reminds Lilith a LOT of Eda, specifically Eda as a kid, during the good old days before she got cursed?

Think about it… They’re both sassy, hot-headed teen prodigies with an owl motif and yellow attire. And the way Lilith angrily talks about the Golden Guard, it seems her feelings of resentment mirror how she felt towards Eda back when they were kids? Lilith, who was by-the-book and traditional, worked so hard… And then there’s this younger person with an Owl motif who just swoops in out of nowhere and through talent, completely outclasses her!

If you go with the idea that Lilith wanted Gwendolyn’s approval and had to compete with Eda over that… Then for all we know, maybe Lilith lowkey wanted Belos’ approval as well, but felt like she was being cheated out of that with the Golden Guard, who kept stealing the spotlight from her!

Like she was afraid he’d take her spot as head of the Emperor’s Coven, the way Lilith feared that Eda would win the initiation duel back when they were kids… And lo and behold, the Golden Guard DID take that! Granted Lilith left an obvious vacancy from her own betrayal of Belos so of course he took that spot, but still; It’s quite a sore spot.

In some ways, perhaps Lilith is aware of this, deep-down or not; She might see the Golden Guard as just Young Eda, but without any of the emotional connection, nor any redeeming qualities; If he does have them, again, it’s not like Lilith knows the Golden Guard well enough to know these traits, much less take them into account.

LOTS of text and speculation and analyses below!!!

The Golden Guard is even sixteen years old… Which, is very likely EDA’s age, back when her and Lilith competed for the Emperor’s Coven! That can take on a whole new, dark meaning for her…

Perhaps Lilith is low-key disturbed by the Golden Guard’s existence, because he reminds her too much of Young Eda? Eda, before she was cursed- So it’s like the memory of her is coming back to haunt Lilith, in the form of someone who has no concern for Lilith whatsoever to hold him back, unlike the actual Eda.

And in a way, it’s a horrible reminder that some things never change, that some things stay the same and Lilith can’t get past them, she can’t outgrow it like she thought she did; Because even now, even as head of the Emperor’s Coven, there’s still a 16-year-old prodigy with an owl motif and yellow attire, who is sassy and playful and mischievous, who threatens to upstage Lilith’s self-esteem and sense of power. Somebody Lilith is afraid of; Thirty years later, and she STILL has to deal with this kind of person in her life, but it’s worse because she’s actually older and should be better, yet somehow isn’t…

Who knows? Maybe Lilith even recognized the similarities to Eda, enough to actually be sympathetic to the Golden Guard at first? Perhaps she, on some level, saw the Golden Guard as a way to vicariously redo her past with Eda, but without the mistakes… Maybe she tried to be nice to the Golden Guard, but then he quickly turned out to be a snob, he’s not REALLY Eda; So Lilith settled on never cursing him like she did Eda, but then otherwise decided that she didn’t owe him any love and could just quietly loathe his guts.

Lilith failed Eda in part because she was an older sister who abandoned her in a time of need, but there’s not really that expectation with the Golden Guard, so why bother? She’s got enough on her plate as is, and an ACTUAL Eda to worry about, to look after, to be concerned for and patch things up with.

I’ve even seen people make the very good point that in a lot of ways… The Golden Guard is like a Dark Eda? In the sense that, he’s Eda, had she joined the Emperor’s Coven as a kid. He’s a look at Young Eda, if she didn’t reject the Coven System, and joined Belos- Reveling in her own talent and power as granting her ‘special treatment’ over the rest, so any downsides to the coven system weren’t HER problem anyway!

Again, this adds another layer to the Golden Guard being very reminiscent of Young Eda, and even current Eda as well… Except, he never lost his magic and was never cursed. Maybe that’s another thing he unknowingly haunts Lilith over; He’s lowkey a reminder of what Eda could’ve been, had Lilith not been selfish and a coward, or had she communicated better. Yet at the same time, he’s frustrating- Because the Golden Guard is like the worst parts of Eda, the parts that Lilith hated and made her resentful…

And this constant reminder of the past, of her own issues with Eda back then that culminated in the curse- It could’ve made it a LOT harder for Lilith to really resolve things with Eda, because this kid keeps reminding her why she was so angry, and it’s impossible for her to move on because the Golden Guard isn’t some distant memory, but an actual person who continues to threaten her, the way Eda had…

And of course, the Golden Guard reminds Lilith of the Eda she lost; The happy, carefree Eda who wasn’t cursed, the Eda she could’ve had in a sense. The Eda that Lilith in some ways wanted, yet is forced to confront and acknowledge is a very obnoxious and terrible person that makes her unhappy…

And this kind of rude reminder that the Eda that Lilith wanted would’ve continued to make her miserable, if not moreso, is not something she appreciates shattering her dreams and low-key denial, of a world where things had just been a little different.

The person you’re trying to get, maybe get BACK, wasn’t so great after all- So you just have to move on, and be glad for the Eda who IS happier with her life and more mature, despite being older and more cursed. You gotta move past your guilt Lilith, and realize that Eda is in a better place- Not that she ever needed the curse, but she doesn’t quite need saving from the parts of her life she actually chose for herself, in part to be kind to Lilith no less! Because I bet Lilith believes that deep down, she didn’t deserve Eda’s kindness, so she wishes to reverse that compassionate decision of Eda’s that only resulted in Eda suffering because of how terrible Lily secretly is.

But, back to the subject; There’s more similarities to Eda and the Golden Guard, especially at the end of Separate Tides; How he makes an ominous warning before casually, happily yelling “BYYEEEE!!!”, just like Eda when she warns Luz about trying to have a Moonlight Conjuring in Hooty’s Moving Hassle, before heading off to the Night Market. His widow’s peak even bears a decent resemblance to Eda’s, doesn’t it? Which…

Combined with all of the talk about bird motifs being a Clawthorne thing, it DOES raise many questions about the Golden Guard’s potential connection to Eda. Is he some long-lost son? A third child that Gwendolyn had later in life, because witch biology might allow them to do that? Some homunculus, crafted from bits of DNA from Eda, and maybe even Belos? Belos does seem weirdly fond and trusting of him, the two are placed together in the Season 2 outro when nobody else, not even Kikimora, is there; And of course, the Golden Guard wields a staff, red magic, and fleshy creations, VERY similar to Belos…

I can’t say for sure- But the idea of the Golden Guard as an alternate Eda is fascinating. An Eda who became completely arrogant, and didn’t stop to care about others; Her cockiness and mischief becoming cruel and obnoxious, essentially the worst parts of Eda, down the path she’d always dreaded. A look into another life, a different choice in such a pivotal part of her past… Personally, I LOVE this kind of dark parallel of a character, so I’m hoping these similarities are commented upon in-universe, assuming they’re not outright literal!

In a way, the Golden Guard could haunt Eda, because he reminds her of herself… Of her carefree youth, but what she could’ve had… But also, the terrible things she’d done. And obviously Eda despises the coven system too much to really change her mind, and it’s safe to say that the Golden Guard is not at all what she wanted to ever become… But still, it’s a neat bit of character writing and parallelism. If Belos is like a Dark Luz, what Luz could’ve been had she not grown… And the same could apply between King and Kikimora;

Then who knows? The Golden Guard could be a Dark Eda, who got by talent and continued to take things for granted. An Eda who swore loyalty to Belos and was embraced by the emperor for her skill and ability. Jovial and cheery, but without any of the actual compassion that makes this genuine with Eda. An immature brat who never grew up (granted he’s only sixteen and hasn’t gotten the chance), unlike Eda. And if the Golden Guard is an alternate Eda;

It’s fascinating how his roles are reversed with his alternate Luz… The Eda parallel is younger than the Luz parallel, learning from them, and taking after their motifs as well! But I guess it’s not all too surprising, with how Eda and Luz both learn from one another, though I suspect Belos and the Golden Guard aren’t as mutual, but who knows?

It does make you wonder about Kikimora and King as potential mediators between these duos, whose placement remains consistent… How does Kikimora, the King parallel, interact with her Luz and Eda? Did she become close friends with HER Luz, while, as Dana’s art suggests, she seems somewhat irritated by and resentful of her own Eda? So it’s like Eda and King never grew to be friends and conquer differences… As well as if King never grew to respect Luz and saw her as just a “f*cking nerd”?

With how Luz is taking after Eda, and possibly getting a Cardinal palisman to complete the Clawthorne motif as a new member of the family… Who knows? The Golden Guard could be an intriguing character for her to bounce off of narratively, maybe as someone Luz might have, in another universe, learned to look up to and admire? How well Luz’s relationship be with the Golden Guard, if they are a Dark Eda? And how can this indirectly show us about how Luz and Young Eda would’ve interacted, what Young Eda was like, what Lilith went through as a kid…

And, for all we know- The Golden Guard’s owl motif doesn’t hint at a pre-existing connection to the Clawthornes, but rather a future one… Maybe he’ll end up being adopted by Eda, the way Luz was? I’d love to see the Golden Guard become an evil older sibling who’s protective of Luz…

I ADORE that trope to death; Evil older brother with bright, younger sister, whom he cares about, and the sister cares for him too, even if it’s complicated because the sister believes in the brother to be better, while the brother doesn’t want to be better, or is at least reluctant about having to change…

I’d love to see another Hugo and Kipo dynamic, and actually… If the Golden Guard parallels Eda, then who’s his Lilith? Could it be Luz herself? I’ve talked before the similarities between Luz and Lilith, as kids who were bullied and struggled with a lack of talent, but made up for it with hard work and ingenuity; They’ll give you a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, but then happily leap at the opportunity if they think someone is improving.

And, as Separate Tides has also shown us; They both grapple with guilt over making Eda suffer, unintentionally to varying degrees. Luz and Lilith both learn that they’re not a burden and that it’s okay to ask for help, and come to terms with their guilt with Eda… If Belos and the Golden Guard are Luz and Eda reversed, then could Luz and the Golden Guard also be Lilith and Luz, reversed?

With the Eda parallel being the older sibling in this scenario… An alternate timeline where Eda and Lilith were the same people, but switched places in birth, and it was EDA who ended up being the cruel and toxic sibling who left the younger feeling demeaned and worthless. I imagine if that were the case, the Golden Guard’s toxicity would occur largely in the beginning, as he acts adversarial to Luz and mocks her, taunts her over Eda’s loss of magic, and her own glyphs no doubt; The Golden Guard doesn’t seem to acknowledge glyphs as a valid form of magic himself.

But then, if he were to get a redemption, the Golden Guard’s tune might change as he matures and learns to treat Luz more kindly… In a way mimicking how Eda really grew to care for Luz, but also the way Eda has begun to reconnect with Lilith, except with the Golden Guard as the one with the baggage and guilt.

And, a redemption might not be too implausible, because… He is literally only sixteen, the same age as Emira and Edric, and likely the same age as Eda when SHE was cursed. Younger than Lilith, when she made the worst mistake of her life, because she didn’t understand the coven system for what it truly was –and who could blame her?- and was grappling with a likely terrible mother in Gwendolyn… The Golden Guard is literally a minor, and possibly an overworked teen prodigy.

After all, the first glimpse of his personality Dana gave us, way back in 2020, was of the Golden Guard admitting that he was tired; And despite his usually cheery personality, all of our glimpses at his face behind the mask (symbolism!) have had him look likely serious and glum… But then again, we don’t see the lower half of his face, so who knows?

Perhaps the Golden Guard is abused and overworked by Belos, kind of like Amity with her parents… The Golden Guard is a child dealing with a very toxic influence, and a huge burden of responsibility no less. And with all the potential connections to Belos as maybe even a literal father, or at least a parental figure, it’s not hard to see why the Golden Guard would turn out so messed up. And the Golden Guard being ‘tired’ could be a connection to how Eda is left exhausted from her curse, too.

So, who knows? Because of his age, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect, or at least hope, for a redemption for this kiddo. But a recent sister show to The Owl House has taught me anything, kids aren’t free from death, and Infinity Train made it clear that you can humanize and sympathize and mourn someone who deserved better, yet ultimately dug their grave and was condemned to a sudden death because of that; All because they didn’t know any better, and really couldn’t have.

And on another note- Maybe the Golden Guard has owl motifs like Eda… Because in a lot of ways, he actually admires her? He admires the Owl Lady, or at least the certain ‘past’ version that others such as Lilith may have brought up… Maybe the Golden Guard seeks to supplant Eda the Owl Lady as The Most Powerful Witch in the Boiling Isles. Maybe he sees himself as Eda, but better, and this rebellious, hot-headed kid feels the need to prove himself by defeating someone he sees himself in.

Maybe the Golden Guard is like Lilith, as someone who wishes Eda could’ve joined the coven system, and he’s disappointed in how all her talent was ‘wasted’ on other things. Maybe the Golden Guard was disappointed in Eda losing her magic, losing further respect for his ‘problematic idol’, and/or he felt some validation and vindication in being a successor to Eda.

Does he hold some grudge? Did the Owl Lady’s power excite him, give the Golden Guard a goal to recklessly challenge and defeat, so he can experience the thrill of victory and add to this feeling of invincibility that teenagers, especially the talented ones, have?

Eda as a kid, and even now, has always been fond of spiting what others say she can’t do, or setting new precedents and accomplishments to prove herself. Maybe the Golden Guard is like that, and hopes to take on the onus of outdoing the Owl Lady; Perhaps he admires Eda, and wishes she could’ve joined a coven like him. As an outside admirer, he mourns Eda’s ‘potential’ in a way similar to Lilith, but different; Because he’s a kid who looks up to her, and not an older sibling that has an actual childhood with Eda. If so, then that’s another dark parallel to Luz;

After all, Luz got frustrated by Eda in Adventures in the Elements. So maybe the Golden Guard is someone who grew resentful of Eda for not living up to the legend he hoped, the image he wanted, sort of like Lilith! I’ll go out on a limb and even suggest him as a past apprentice, who unlike Luz, never learned to be patient and appreciate Eda’s teachings, so he turned to the coven system and Belos for easy gratification. He didn’t want to be challenged… And in that way, the Golden Guard could parallel my speculation on Belos, as also a Dark Luz.

So of course, it makes sense that Belos would recognize this same dilemma in the Golden Guard, and perhaps be sympathetic and take him under his wing for it. Eda might not recognize the Golden Guard because he’s changed a bit himself, is hiding his own identity –Lilith doesn’t seem to know much about the witch beneath the mask either, just the public image and façade- and Eda’s been having memory issues. Maybe this will add to the Golden Guard’s resentment, who knows? He really might just be a rebellious teen who Eda failed, unlike with Luz… And that could add to more envy, perhaps.

At the very least; Dana’s fondness for the Golden Guard takes on a whole new meaning… What with how Eda is pretty much one of, if not THE most favorite character of hers, the one who really jumpstarted this entire show and world to begin with… Having this other character she likes essentially be a canon AU version of that beloved creation, would certainly make a lot of sense! Dana likes Eda, she likes to show us about Young Eda; So a character who IS Young Eda, just on a different path, would likely appeal to her. We’ll see…

I think it’s worth noting that in her art of the Golden Guard, it depicts him as essentially a normal, lazy teenager who’s asking someone else to do his chore for him, while he lounges around to do something else. I could see a young Eda as occasionally fulfilling that role and asking her older sister Lily for a favor- And maybe this could allude to the Golden Guard being frequently exhausted from being overworked himself, hence “I’m tired” and wanting to extend his breaks as much as possible. We’ll just have to wait and see…

#the owl house #the owl house golden guard #the golden guard #the owl house the golden guard #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #the owl house belos #emperor belos #speculation #theory #analysis #essay #the owl house hunter

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narrators-journal · 3 years

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Illumi's family arranged for him to marry the daughter of a famous murderous family, his fiancee has the personality of Violet Evergarden, they have a son together, but before Illumi finds out about the child, she breaks up the marriage! 5 years later he found out about the prodigy son, what would his reaction be? Would he try to get custody of the child or would he force the reader to remarry and start a family? (Illumi Yandere obsessive)

So, I had a bit of fun and made this a little scenario! Though, to answer your question, he'd force reader-chan to remarry him and play family. I hope you enjoy this little ditty!

To be fair, betrothal had a track record for being somewhat fickle in the longevity department, Illumi could admit that. He'd wanted his marriage to you to take after his own parents' relationship, long lasting, happy, stable. However, you had been stubbornly independent from the first day he'd met you when he was 12, all because you had come from your own well off, assassin-trained family. That fact had pissed him off as a child, it'd annoyed him the most as a teen, because at 16 you were particularly enthusiastic with your defiance of his rules and commands, and it hadn't sat well with him when you finally officially married him, but he'd tried to negotiate with you and keep the peace. You obey him, he won't use his needles on you, win-win.

Guess not, since about a year into the arrangement, you'd been able to worm your way through a loophole that let you divorce him. Hence why you were currently playing a nasty game of tag.

That was something of the last straw for Illumi. He could learn to manage you going against his rules, he could put up with your stubborn personality and spiteful refusal to give up birth control, but he would never allow his wife to just walk out on him. So, when you'd vanished, he of course went looking for you, which was a hassle and a half since you were trained to work in his line of business. So, he tried not to be annoyed when his hunt lasted for a few years, but it really did eat at him.

I'm about to just declare (y/n) dead and find a new wife. He thought one day, five years into his hunt, while he trudged around a shop with his mother's list of demands in hand. As time had gone on, Kikyo Zoldyck, Illumi's mom, had made a habit out of sending him personally to grocery shop so he would stop fuming around the estate. So, dressed in one of his sweatshirts and some shorts, Illumi was standing in a store, grumpily musing over what to do about his runaway wife while finding the stuff his mother asked for. Suddenly, just as he turned down another aisle, he spotted a strange child all alone in the pathway, looking down at some candy. "Where are your parents?" he asked, and when the boy looked up at him, his eyes narrowed. He was looking back into his own dark, bottomless eyes. "Where is your mother?" he asked again, his voice somewhere between calm and tense, but the child acted as if he didn't hear any of the malice in Illumi's voice, just turning and running off down the aisle with his chosen candy in hand.

Swiftly, Illumi put his own shopping down and went after him, following the young boy down a few aisles before losing him in a small crowd. So, the man huffed, clenching his fist and repressing the hot rage coursing through his veins before returning to his shopping and just going to buy everything he had, his mother would have to send a butler to finish the list later. However, while standing in line, stewing in his frustration, confusion, and wrath at the potential answers he was thinking up to explain the odd child, the long haired assassin struck a gold mine of luck. Out of the corner of his eye, walking towards the exit, he spotted the familiar puppy-patterned shirt of the toddler he'd seen earlier, but this time said child was holding onto the hand of a woman.

So, acting quickly, he put his things down again and went after the duo, catching up to them and grabbing the woman by the wrist when they were outside in the parking lot. "Hey!" you snapped, whirling around to face Illumi, that sickly familiar look of aggression instantly giving you away, "(y/n)." Your name was curt and rather inexpressive, but Illumi's aura held all of the underlying meaning and threat he needed for your narrowed, (e/c) eyes to flit through a multitude of emotions. Terror, anger, back to fear, than back to anger, and finally, a cold, hateful, calm. "Can the Zoldycks really not afford a dictionary? We're divorced Illumi, you have no right to bother me." you hissed, yanking your wrist out of his bruising hold while inching your son behind you. "We can talk about the 'divorce' later, as for my rights, I have quite a few when it comes to my child." He pointed out, glancing down to the dark-eyed child behind you, getting an evil look in response, "He isn't your kid, fucker. You're not the only man I've slept with, stupid." you shot back, barring your teeth at the murderer-for-hire.

For a long moment, the two of you stared one another down. Both were obviously pissed and full of malice, but with a small child that could likely be Illumi's so close, neither could express that aggression, whether it be through their auras or a vitriolic fight. So, they were somewhat stuck in a stalemate until Gotoh broke the tension, "Master Illumi, would you like some assistance?" He offered, bringing to your attention that you were caged in by two butlers and Illumi. To make things worse for you, Illumi caught that realization in your body language and relaxed a bit knowing he'd finally got you back. "Let's just go home. Gotoh, call the doctor for a DNA test, I'll need it for the kid." Illumi said, breaking the hateful staring contest he'd been in with you to once again look at the small, (your hair color) boy you were doing your best to keep from him. "Fuck off, Illumi, I'm leaving." You snapped, refusing to give in without at least a tiny fight, which the man understood, but he refused to let you go again. "That's where we're going, (y/n), home." he assured, and before you could argue again or attack him, Gotoh put a hand on your shoulder and firmly led you to the car, letting Illumi follow, in a far better mood now.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #yandere illumi x reader #Illumi Zoldyck #ask #scenario #yandere Illumi #Illumi x reader

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roanniom · 3 years

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This made my day seeing your requests open!!

I’d like to please request some hot dominat Clyde action. We all know he’s a softy, but we all also know he’s capable of being a big and scary if he needs to. Thoughts on Clyde protecting you from something and then still being riled up with you after, in all the best ways? :)

Hiya anon! I was happy to write this for you. Fun story, what Clyde does (re: the beer bottle) in this story is actually something a bar tender did when defending me from a creep back in my college bar hopping days lol. I WISH it was Clyde who had done it. I would have loved to thank him. 😉

Out of Trouble

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 2,730

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, possessiveness, dirty talk

You reassess the situation you find yourself in – by no means an unfamiliar one, but definitely out of the norm these days and wholly unpleasant all the same. The man currently harassing you at the bar is clearly not a local. First of all, you don’t recognize the handsy son-of-a-bitch. And secondly, everyone in town knew that you were Clyde’s girl.

You two had only recently made things official, but in a way, hadn’t you always been Clyde’s girl? Your best friendship had always been tinged with a sweetness that surpassed the roles of mere pals. Sure there was flirting, how could you resist with the way a properly timed tease or suggestive comment could make Clyde blush and stammer as if on command? But even more prevalent, and more obvious to the patiently waiting members of the town, was the ownership you both had of one another. People knew better than to hassle either of you, verbally, hypothetically, or otherwise, in the presence of the other. You had Clyde’s back and he had yours, each of you displaying a possessiveness that made others smirk and roll their eyes while hiding their jealousy. You had what they did not, and now that the two of you were finally dating, envy was a common emotion amongst regular Duck Tape patrons.

Something this creep clearly was not privy to it would seem as he reached out to caress your forearm, an action which you flinch to avoid.

“Come on, baby. Let me buy you a fucking drink,” he was saying at this point. He was getting more forceful and though you had previously been courteous in your refusals, you realize that it might be time to fight back. He swayed on his barstool before continuing. “Stop being such a bitch. What could one drink hurt?”

“Every bone in yer fuckin’ body,” comes a low, deep growl that makes both you and the creep look up to the swinging door behind the bar. Your heart swells with relief and other, undefinable emotions as Clyde stalks up, his massive body an intimidating figure as it looms over the other, weasel-y man, threatening even with the bar between them.

“W-what’s your problem?” the creep practically squeaks before clearing his throat and jumping up, trying to draw himself up to his full height, which just comes across as laughable. Of course, next to Clyde, any height would be laughable.

“My problem is yer comin’ onto m’girl. That’s my problem.” His tone is deadly quiet. That’s your Clyde, soft spoken, even as his flesh hand clenches and murder simmers behind his eyes.

“Look, she was sitting here all alone. In my book that makes a bitch fair game - ” the creep begins, but he doesn’t get much farther with his misogynistic diatribe because Clyde reaches over, grabbing a nearby customer’s almost empty beer. Grasping the bottle around the neck, Clyde smashes the bottle down against the edge of the bar. The barrel shatters with a loud crash that silences the din of the room and causes the neck of every patron to whip around for the source of the sound. Clyde stands before the creep brandishing the remaining shards of the beer bottle like a shiv.

“Here’s what yer gonna do,” Clyde says calmly, the violence of his actions not succeeding in raising the volume of his voice. “Yer gonna apologize t’ the lil lady fer troublin’ her, understand?”

The creep stares at Clyde, wide-eyed and panicked before nodding and turning to you hastily.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking, sorry –”

“Good,” Clyde says, cutting the guy off so that he can no longer address you. You eye Clyde as he waves the shattered bottle menacingly. He’s never looked bigger. Never looked darker. Never looked hotter. When he speaks again his voice is even lower, if that’s possible. “Now yer gonna get the fuck outta my bar.”

The creep is gone in a matter of seconds, running out the front door so fast you almost imagine his skeleton being left on the bar stool in his wake like some frightened cartoon character. Before you can look back up at Clyde, his large hand is encircling your wrist and yanking you toward to door to the back of the bar. You let yourself be pulled, barely registering how the conversation kicks back in, customers already basking in the aftermath of Clyde’s rare emotional outburst.

Once the door to Clyde’s office is safely shut behind you, Clyde pushed you to sit down on his couch while he paces back and forth in front of you. You’re bewildered by this response, unsure if you should say something so you remain silent, watching him. After a moment Clyde yanks a hand through his hair forcefully. You swallow and decide to finally speak up.

“Are you okay, Clyde?”

“I’m NOT fuckin’ okay,” Clyde replies and you’re shocked at the way his voice raises with his words. You’re suddenly worried he’s gotten the wrong idea and you’re quick to fold your arms defensively across your chest, your own voice rising.

“Hey, if you’re mad at me you should know it’s not like I encouraged that asshole.”

Clyde is quick to round on you, looking panicked.

“I didn’t say ya did. I know ya wouldn’t…ya’d never…” Clyde trails off into a growl and resumes his pacing, flesh hand clenching and unclenching.

“It’s over, Clyde,” you soothe now, switching tactics and lowering your own defenses. He’s clearly distressed and you’re not sure how to calm him. “He’s not the first and probably won’t be the last guy to bother me.”

“That’s what’s killin’ me, darlin’. What if I hadn’t walked out? What if ya were alone an’ this happened?”

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know ya can,” Clyde says, voice more characteristically quiet now but frustration no less palpable as he waves his prosthetic arm distractedly. “I dunno what’s gotten intuh me. I saw him touch ya an’…an’…” Clyde reaches out and swipes across a table, throwing everything to the ground. His chest heaves with his outburst. Yours is rising and falling rapidly now, too, but for you its stemming from the realization that this man. This sweet, beautiful man is losing his cool over his desire to protect you. To defend you. You’re a modern woman. As you’d just told him, you can take care of yourself and you are very proud of that fact. But something about the dark look in his eye and the way his muscles shift tensely beneath his shirt and the way he stomps before you makes you feel like you want to disappear in his arms and never resurface.

“You’re a good man, Clyde,” you say softly. He shakes his head and gives a humorless laugh.

“Not tonight, I’m not, darlin’. Not with these thoughts. I haven’t felt this way since…”

“Overseas?” you ask. He nods, trying to take a deep breath but releasing an even angrier exhale.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I can’t seem to calm down. I’m just so fuckin’ mad.”

You watch your big bear, usually so gentle, wrestle with his emotions before you. Immediately you have an idea, standing up and moving to him. Using one hand to peel open his fist and interlace your fingers. He grips you too tight but you just bite your lip. Your other hand slides over his bicep and shoulder, kneading into the tense muscles there as you press your face into his chest. His prosthetic arm winds around your waist, pulling you into his body naturally. This does nothing to slow his breathing, which picks up more speed. Feeling you against his body is reminding him of how small you are. How vulnerable. He feels another surge of rage and desperation course through his veins.

“I don’t know why I’m feelin’ this way,” he mumbles but you reach up and grab his face to force him to look at you.

“Feel whatever way you feel,” you reassure him. You lift up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, but the force with which he responds steals your breath. His arms wind around your body and crush you to him as his tongue ruthlessly explores your mouth, as if searching for solace can only be done in the space where you are most conjoined. The aggression is dizzying and his fingers are bruising on your frame but you love it. Used to light touches, soft caresses, you feel a hunger burn beneath your skin, as if your every muscle is rejoicing at the deeper pressure, the deeper friction.

When Clyde finally pulls away you are winded and dazed, now breathing just as heavily. His eyes look no less wild but now there is a tinge of concern.

“M’sorry, darlin’. We should stop, ‘m too worked up. Can’t be sweet to ya the way ya like.” His words are husky and rushed but you’re just as rushed to shush him. You’re already working at his belt and pulling him back to the couch.

“I like you in whatever way you’ll have me, baby,” you mumbled against his flesh, kissing down his throat as you pull him down to the cushions. “Take it out on me.”

“What if I’m too rough with ya?” Clyde asks, but his hands are already ripping your shirt over your head and his mouth latches onto your throat, your collar bone, your breast through your bra.

“I want you to be rough with me, Clyde. I’ve wanted you to be rough with me since the moment you walked out and gave that asshole what-for.” You’re pressed down, back against the couch now, with your legs tight around the wide barrel of Clyde’s body.

“Did ya like that, darlin’? Yer Big Bear defending ya?” He’s no longer hesitant in his movements and no longer trying to stop himself. Instead he takes a handful of your ass, pulling your pelvis up off the couch so that your clothed pussy presses fully into his erect and waiting cock. You moan, both at the sensation and at him calling himself Big Bear for the first time. You’d only been dating for a few weeks and things were still new, including shyness around pet names. You’d called him Big Bear the night before in the teasing lead up to some love making and he’d only flushed and stammered in response, busying himself by burying his face between your thighs.

But right now he’s gazing down at your face with an air of intensity and you feel saliva pool in your mouth and wet slick your quivering heat.

“I liked my Big Bear defending me. So strong and big.” You say the last word as you close your hand around his enormous cock through his unzipped jeans. Clyde bucks into your hand and hums from where he’s suckling at the underside of one of your breasts, curved down into you despite your differences in height.

“Nobody else can have ya,” he grumbles before hoisting you higher on the couch so he can position his cock at your entrance. You gasp at the feeling of his member sliding between your folds, getting covered in your waiting slick.

“Nobody. Only you, Big Bear.” Before you can say anything else Clyde has speared into you in one swift motion and taken up an unforgiving pace. There was the aggression he’d been worried about and boy was it rough. You cling to him for dear life as he fucks you into the couch cushions. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack.

It hurts – he’s much too big to be going this hard this fast – but his grip on you is so tight it melts your aching muscles. The desperation of his thrusts make you hiccup through your inhales and you feel surrounded. Crushed. Filled. All in the best way possible. You love the darling Clyde who coaxes your orgasms with caresses and honeyed words and languid strokes. But this Clyde – this is your Big Bear. His eyes drink in your bouncing breasts as he’s not able to clutch them with the way he has to support his own weight with his good arm. Your back arches deeper from the effects of a particularly deep thrust, bringing your chest up to press against his and he groans.

“This body. No wonder people’re comin’ on to ya, darlin’. This body’s too perfect,” he practically growls, burying his face into your throat. “Maybe I should just keep ya here on my cock. Stay inside ya. Keep me warm and keep ya outta trouble.”

You moan loudly as his dirty words are accentuated by a change in angle that lets him pound into a particularly sweet spot. Your walls pulse around him.

“Oh god. Oh Clyde.”

“Back to callin’ me Clyde already? Am I not bein’ rough enough for ya?” Clyde asks, biting down into the sensitive flesh of your throat. You cry out, hips gyrating against him, legs and walls clamping down around him with an unconscious need to keep him buried deep inside you.

“F-fuck, oh fuck me, Big Bear. I can take it!” you practically whine.

“Yes ya can. So good, takin’ yer Big Bear.” His trusts begin to bottom out harsher, faster. The pressure and the speed have pulled your muscles as taut as they can go and you know you’re seconds from snapping. It was all so sudden. You’re both so worked up, not only from the experience out in the bar, but from the headiness of being this way with one another for the first time. He may be the one pounding into you, but you’re giving as good as you’re getting, rolling your hips up to meet each thrust. Pulling him down into you and raking your fingernails up and down his back.

It’s desperate and needy and possessive – equally so. He is yours and you are his and ownership never tasted so sweet.

Just as you’re about the cum, Clyde seems to sense it and shoves your legs up by the back of the knee, ensuring his next few thrusts rub up against the spot inside you that makes your eyes cross and makes your moans turn into desperate whimpers. You have the vague thought that this proves how well Clyde has come to know your body, what a great student he is of your orgasm, just as said orgasm crashes over you.

You know for sure that the Duck Tape customers heard you. Your belief in your audience becomes even stronger when Clyde lets out a delicious moan as he cums, too, painting your insides with spend made just for you. You’re sweaty and it’s only 7 pm on a Tuesday. Clyde’s going to have to go back to tending bar and you’re going to have to slink out, so clearly ravaged and thoroughly fucked to the likely amusement of a roomful of people who’d been rooting for your coupling. You chuckle to yourself, as Clyde drops the weight of his whole body on you, crushing you. Those people outside definitely got a chance just now to hear your coupling firsthand.

“That…was amazing.” It comes out breathless, as though you’ve just run a marathon. And because you have the mass of a large man pressing you into the couch. When Clyde finally lifts his head from its resting place at your neck he looks sheepish and embarrassed and pleased and winded.

“’M sorry if I was too much for ya, darlin’. Once ya started touchin’ me I couldn’t think straight.”

You silence him with a kiss, grabbing his face to make it deep. When you pull away your smile is ear to ear.

“If you make me feel like that, baby, there’s absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

Clyde moves to pull out of you, his cum now seeping out around his softening cock, but you tighten your legs around him suddenly.

“What happened to staying inside me, mister?” you tease.

Clyde stands abruptly, pulling you up with him still seated in your dripping cunt. Your gasp and scramble to hold onto him. He takes a few playful steps towards the door and you swat at him.

“No, I think yer right, darlin’. What better way tuh make cocktails than with my lil cockwarmer?”

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore

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