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crownednova · 1 year

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I’ve only seen love directed towards RtDLDX, and while I think that’s lovely, I’ve always had several issues with it that I haven’t seen many else talk about. So that’s what I wanna do… talk about it. This was originally gonna be in the form of an essay, but I wrote the first draft half asleep, there is no saving that, and I think more of a point form, individualised analysis would get my point across better. This also means there isn’t going to be much for positives. Pretty much anything I don’t mention should be assumed I am either fine or happy with. Despite that though, I do still think the negatives are enough to cause me to not enjoy RtDLDX, at least not as much as I wish I could. But enough preamble.

New White Wafers Dialogue

Let’s start off with the two least impactful gripes. In fact, I’m just gonna get this one out of the way before getting onto the actual topic. Ability Stars look so much worse now. I get they’re 3D models now, but man, they just look so flat. Where are my RtDL Ability Star fans at? Okay, now to actually begin. All the other changes to Story Mode are great, but wow, I do not like his “Such Easy Targets” line. It feels like a betrayal of his facade. I’ve said in the past that RtDL has my favourite Magolor, which is why this stings. This isn’t like any of his other new/changed dialogue, while his Extra Mode dialogue also stands out, it still feels closer to how he acts. Not to mention, this is him finally being honest. He’s allowed to drop the facade here, it makes sense. But in White Wafers? I just can’t see him saying that. In the original, he does come off as shady, and he does mess up his story, but in a completely different way. I feel a similar slip up is when he calls Kirby a Hero in Cookie Country. At that time, he isn't supposed to know that. He also changes his story from “Just Crash Landing” to “Being Attacked by Landia.” Those are his brand of slip ups, I can’t imagine he’d mess up that badly as to say “Man I love scheming. Oops I mean crocheting ☺️” It’s also a lot more relaxed than what I expect from him. I always interpreted RtDL Magolor as having this stress to his dialogue. His ship is in shambles and he needs to keep up a lie. He still goofs around, but it’s in a completely different tone, it still has undertones of panic. This however, reads more like one of his upgrade lines in the Epilogue. Some may find that appropriate, but Magolor is never written consistently, and trying to add connections only makes things worse. Also, forgot to mention, this is just a straight up spoiler. Sure, the game is 11 years old, but Forgotten Land introduced so many new Kirby fans, people who know nothing about the series, to reveal your biggest twist, especially in a way that feels like a betrayal to the character you’ve written, I just can’t understand the idea behind this change. Because what is the point? I keep asking myself this and I genuinely can’t comprehend it.

Extra Mode Changes

Extra Mode got a glow up in RtDLDX, that’s obvious from the first stages, so then why do I find myself preferring the original? It’s consistent. 1-1 is probably the most fun I’ve had with RtDL in years, so to be greeted by that, only to be met with the exact same mode I’ve played countless times, it’s crushing. It feels like it was set up to get you excited, just to pull the rug from under you. I could get it if it was deliberately there to convince you to buy the game, but if you’ve made it this far, you already own it. So why? While this inconsistency ruins the mode for me, I can’t help but have a more, sympathetic outlook. The original mode is a clear sign this game was rushed, while most of the game, you wouldn’t even be able to tell. I don’t know if those who worked on it were happy with how Extra Mode turned out. Maybe that’s presumptuous of me, but DX was their chance to fix this, but they didn’t. If it isn’t obvious, I think Extra Mode was once again rushed. 1-1, while maybe a bit unfair, still felt like there was love put into it, as much love as the bosses. And 2-1 and 3-1 also got noticeable attention, but much less. The fact the first levels got this attention, makes me feel like they were just developing the levels they could, I can’t explain it as well as I’d like, but it still stands out to me that way. But, while I appreciate the effort, it only makes it feel more unfinished than the original. I’m just so sad about this because this was their only chance to fix the original, it just stands out compared to all the other Extra Modes from the games after. Even something simple like letting Player 1 be Dedede, Meta or Bandee would have done so much for this mode. And, as I’ll soon say, Magolor Epilogue does nothing to circumvent this. Magolor Epilogue Part 1 - Gameplay That’s right, a two parter! This is gonna be hard though, as I don’t know where my biases begin, and where they end. While this is obviously all subjective, I still would like some ground to stand on. So, I’m gonna start with what I like and what I think works. Let’s start with the bosses. Besides the marketing, which really should have its own section, they’re pretty cool! They innovate on the original bosses, Electicky Dooter is my favourite boss from this game. But it does suck they aren’t more original, or the fact the minibosses are still the same ones from Story and Extra Mode. It just makes the fact all the world bosses were spoiled for us hurt all the more. Next are Ordeal Doors. I love them. They work around the required upgrades so perfectly. Being able to know what the player will have means they can make memorable and fun stages. The regular stages are the exact inverse of this. They’re bland, forgettable, they have to work around the fact that you may never upgrade your abilities. I often see people praise the freedom the upgrade system provides, but I only see the inverse. It’s restrictive. The most the regular stages can do is play around with the boss abilities. However, those are often so weak, done so much better in the Ordeal Stages, or aren’t intuitive for movement that they can’t stand out. The combo system is much more interesting as a mechanic, and the game can properly play around with it, but the upgrades encapsulate everything I dislike about how it feels to play. No, everything I dislike with this whole Epilogue. Magolor Epilogue Part 2 - Tone and Story

I get it’s Kirby, but Kirby has done good and serious stories, so then why is Magolor Epilogue such tonal whiplash. The intro and tutorial capture it perfectly. Magolor almost died, he basically did. He lost his friends, his magic, he’s alone. Good thing he can think uppity thoughts! That’s unfair, I love his upgrade dialogue, I don’t want them to take away the humour, but there has to be some sort of middle ground! Make it clear his jokes are a form of coping, make the pause screens talk about his thoughts rather than vagueing towards Grand Doomer being the final boss 4 times in a row. Give us a look at how he actually feels!!! This is worse in the ending, we never see him actually feel guilt for what he’s done. We’re just told he’s redeemed now, we’re told that on a pause screen that’s not even accessible for 30 seconds!! It’s not even a case of show don’t tell, because they don’t even tell us anything! What I find worse is that he doesn’t even have to confront Kirby to apologise, not really, he literally gets to start living out his dream, stalling until the whole situation blows over until he just gets to show up on Pop Star, somehow, where there is barely any tension left. He gets off easy, he dies, and he gets rewarded for it. LITERALLY TOO!! I’ve never liked his Star Allies moveset. It was so clearly busted, that it felt like he’s stronger without the Master Crown. So in response to this, they canonise this moveset and it’s even more busted. It all comes back to the fact he’s constantly rewarded for his betrayal. He loses nothing. And it’s infuriating, because how am I supposed to expect him to be redeemed when he didn’t have to suffer for anything he did. Sure, he cries at the end of the mode, too bad we never know how he’s feeling anywhere else. They didn’t even answer how he got back to Pop Star, instead answering how he got to the Dream Kingdom. Idk about anyone else, but I just kinda assumed he got there with the Lor, the “real” answer doesn’t feel satisfying at all. He doesn’t even do anything interesting in the Clash games, nothing, not unless we get another Clash sequel. I just, I just wanted him to apologise to Kirby, but instead, it feels like HAL is doing everything in their power to make sure he doesn’t. The worst part is that I’m still hoping for that Clash sequel, I’m waiting for them to execute what they’ve set up, but I just don’t think it’s happening. I just wish I could see what everyone else sees in Epilogue, but I just can’t.

Merry Magoland

I guess I should wrap this up with Magoland. It’s not that bad, but I think it suffered the most from feeling slapped on with no real purpose. I like the Minigames, but I’m more talking about the park itself. I don’t like how it looks. It might just be because I’m not a fan of Magolor’s ego, or at least never saw it being this kind of ego, but it doesn’t work here for me. From what we’ve seen of Magolor’s work in the past, it’s always had this sort of child like aspect to it, like it was made with crayons and cardboard or building blocks. It created a nice aesthetic, albeit, a rather disconnected one, Drum Dash and Dream Collection look nothing alike. But to see them completely ignore what those two set up for a boring DisneyLand parody? Especially one played so positively? Idk, maybe I’m expecting too much asking for another “Capitalism is Bad'' metaphor, but still, Disney is very well known for being a garbage company so???? It’s funny how a place meant to look as innocent as possible is immersion breaking for being as innocent as possible. In reality, it’s not that bad, Manager Magolor acts nothing like Story Mode Magolor, but that’s a consistent thing with all his appearances so whatever I’ve grown to accept it. I just wish Dream Collection and Drum Dash got more love. Especially since Last Land of all things was referenced back in Dream Buffet, I still love that btw. Some sort of visual link might have helped, but even without them, I just think gaudy isn’t Magolor’s style? Like it totally is, but this brand of it doesn’t feel like him. However, I don’t write for him, idk his “true” personality, his “true” taste, maybe he likes Glitter and I can’t stop him. It just serves to make the new stuff feel out of place juxtaposed to the more natural, magical and mechanical settings of Story Mode.

And I guess that’s it, I never want to do this kinda thing again. Being this negative, although my true feelings, is just exhausting. I hope no one agrees with my issues, but if you do, hope it’s nice to see someone talk about it lol. I’m not giving up on this game though, I want to come back in a few months and see how my feelings have changed. I doubt it’ll fix everything, but I hope I can gain a new appreciation for this game, critiques and all. I guess thanks for reading as well, it means a lot to know people care about what I have to say.

#rtdldx spoilers #negative #ugh i never want to write again #this was kinda fun but i need a nap #long post

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ohnohetaliasues · 11 months

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Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 10}

(Kat)

Here we go again. I am still alive and actually still active on tumblr, but I mostly do writing and fanfiction now. I still enjoy the occasional fic review, though.

If I have to read Abbi and James going any further than kissing I’m going to need either a brain transplant or a lobotomy, whichever makes me forget faster.

But I know they will. I know they will and I will have to read it with my two eyes and you will be able to read my suffering. I will put a warning when that chapter comes around in case any of you want to skip it. I honestly wouldn’t blame you.

Let’s get into it.

The next morning I was surprised Davis didn’t leap up to greet me as I walked on the bus with Abbi. We sat across from him but he just looked out his window, surrounding himself in a silent gloom while paying us no attention.

I mean, there’s the chance he’s traumatized. He did just survive a shooting.

“Hey Davis, how are you today?” I asked.

Davis replied without turning towards me, “Why don’t you have a car? You’re 17, only losers like me ride the bus.”

Well, that’s a rather rude way of responding to a friend asking you how you are.

Abbi gave me a look of concern.

As she should.

Though Abbi didn’t know Davis too well yet, she understood him to be a happier person; neither of us expected Davis to say something so negative.

I responded to Davis, “Not everyone has a white picket fence life Davis, some people have to ride the bus.”

I hate the way the dialogue tags are written before the actual fucking dialogue. It’s so irritating to read and it is nOT HOW YOU WRITE DIALOGUE.

Davis turned angrily and spoke as he pierced me with the most intense glare I had ever seen, “You don’t think I know that? You should get a job! Buy your own car! What are you even doing with your life?”

In case you forgot, Davis, teenagers usually don’t have everything figured out. As much as I hate James, there’s no reason for him to be attacked for something as completely fucking mundane as riding the school bus.

I sat back, giving up on changing his mood and thought to myself “Happiness, as far as I care, can’t be acquired through any means if love is not involved.”

If I got a job on top of school, I’d have barely any time to spend with Abbi.

She now apparently lives with you, plus you go to school with her. You’ll see her plenty.

I needed her more than anything and I thought Davis knew this.

Broski, he probably needs you, too.

He’s supposed to James’ best friend, but all James cares about is Abbi and I imagine Davis is probably annoyed and hurt that James is only paying attention to his girlfriend and not making time for his best friend after something like this happened.

Or Onion wants to create drama, and making Davis angry for some reason is the most low effort way of doing so. My money is on that since I don’t think that man is capable of intelligent, complex thoughts, nor is he capable of any kind of decent storytelling.

Davis was probably just upset over everything that had happened recently and this was his way of coping.

It’s honestly more concerning that James isn’t as affected by the shooting. Davis is reacting in a normal way to a massive, traumatizing, and tragic event. All James cares about is the girl in his bed.

Trying to close the conversation on a less negative note I said, “Well buddy, I’m here if you need me!” with the same tone he always used on me.

No, you’re not.

He rolled his eyes, scoffed and scooted closer to his window. Abbi remained next to me, running her fingers over the hairs on my hand. It was such a positive distraction.

Why is she doing that instead of just holding his hand? That’s not a thing I’ve ever heard of someone doing. Did Onion forget that sometimes people hold hands and like, run their fingers over the person they’re holding hands with’s knuckles?

Later that morning I found myself in my History class staring at a very nervous Mr. Hanson.

“You all realize the President of the United freaking States is going to be here right?” he asked the class.

Okay, two things.

That was actually formatted how a quotation should, but that’s probably not going to stick.

Secondly, WHAT?!

I think this was released in like, 2015 or so, meaning that was Obama, so does this just make this book a very elaborate ‘Obama was there’ meme? I will choose to look at it that way since that makes it a minuscule amount less insufferable.

I know that the President sometimes goes to schools to speak. President Obama once just arrived at a DC high school. He just casually strolled into a classroom, like the legend he is. I guess it makes sense for him to show up to speak in the wake of a tragedy like this, but it was just so fucking jarring that this was announced the day it was happening instead of, I dunno, days in advance like how planning usually works?

Whoever planned this needs to be fired.

Most the students looked confused, as we were not briefed when exactly we would see him.

Why? Why not?

A voice erupted as our classroom door was swiftly pushed open.

“The President of the United freaking States is about to arrive ladies and gentlemen,” said a large man wearing a black suit.

This is all happening so fast I don’t even know what to say.

Mr. Hanson laughed nervously over the fact that, what we soon realized was a member of the Secret Service, had overheard him.

Thanks for that unnecessary comma after ‘Secret Service.’ Also, that whole sentence in general was just a fucking mess.

It should be written something like: “Mr. Hanson laughed nervously when he realized that someone had overheard him, and we later realized said person was a member of the Secret Service.”

See? The sentence structure is better, it reads easier, and it doesn’t make your brain hurt. But no, no editing allowed, no criticism, it’s against Onion laws.

Throw me in Onion Jail then, I guess.

Also, did the Secret Service member just announce the president arriving by saying “the President of the freaking United States,” like he’s surprised by the person he works for? Is he an idiot, or is he just constantly in awe of the President? My money is on both.

Edit: I realize he’s quoting Mr. Hanson, but I like my joke that I made and I’m keeping it there even if it’s stupid.

Mr. Hanson turned to the class and in a rushed tone said “Alright, think before you ask the President anything, no stupid questions!”

Ah, there goes the proper formatting of dialogue. We had a good run.

Another voice came from outside the door “You’re right Mr. Hanson, there are no stupid questions.”

Hello, Obama.

We all froze to see it was the President who had spoken.

As he walked in the room I quickly realized he was much taller than I had assumed from watching TV. The President centered himself in the room as the Secret Service asked Mr. Hanson to take a seat at his desk.

Four members of the USSS stood behind the President as he began to speak,

Why? It would make more sense for them to be stationed at the doors, but I’m not an expert on the US Secret Service so I really wouldn’t know. It just seems crowded as fuck to have four people standing behind you while standing in an already not very large classroom, but I digress.

“I’m not here to bring a dark cloud into this room. I want to be uplifting, to be helpful, and I want all of you to feel like you can say whatever you like, without any fear of criticism or repercussion”

There is no period at the end of that sentence.

Chris Jenkins, the class clown, blurted out “Why are you such a D-Bag?”

Um.

I have met stupid people. But I don’t think I’ve met anyone that stupid.

Actually, that’s a lie, there were some massive dumbasses I went to high school with. And, truthfully, who I go to college with, currently.

Most everyone in the class sat in shock as Mr. Hanson violently lurched up like a frantic animal yelling in a high-pitched tone “Chris! How dare you disrespect the...”

If I have to read the words ‘most everyone’ again I am going to have a fucking conniption. I don’t think Onion ever passed high school English class. Hell, I don’t think he passed middle school English.

He has the IQ of a fucking life raft, though, so nobody is surprised by that.

If you’ll allow me to go into a writer rant here for a second, I’ll tell you why this is wrong. ‘Most everyone’ is not proper grammar. The word ‘most’ means the greatest part of something, as all of you undoubtedly know, so ‘most everyone’ means the greatest part of everyone here. What greatest part are you talking about? Their heads and torsos? Their legs and torsos?

While people do use it, it sounds fucking wrong. Like, if you replace it with ‘almost everyone’ it works and sounds normal, but ‘most everyone’ sounds fucking stupid.

“Mr. Hanson.” the President interrupted, “Thank you.”

A USSS member then asked Mr. Hanson to return to his seat.

The dialogue formatting is making me so goddamn mad that I have to correct it because it’s such a headache to read. I leave the dialogue tags as they are, because that means I can make fun of them, but I cannot read something where there are no fucking paragraph breaks when somebody speaks.

DOES THIS MAN NOT KNOW THE BASIC RULES OF WRITING DIALOGUE? NO. HE JUST DECIDED TO WRITE A BOOK WITHOUT PRACTICING AND PUBLISHED HIS FIRST DRAFT.

There is nothing more impersonal that critiquing someone’s grammar, but even when fans offered to help correct spelling and grammar, Onion refused. So, like a moron, he released the book unedited. Or he let his partner edit it. I don’t know, they didn’t do a very good job if that’s the case.

The President walked over to Chris, pulling his own pants slightly back so he could crouch.

Why the fuck does he feel the need to crouch?

“Now you may feel I am what you said, a D-Bag, but you should know to address me as President D-Bag as I, and many Americans, believe I earned the title of President.”

Uh. Okay.

Sick burn, I guess?

Chris, now shaking and not knowing what to say let out a nervous and horribly awkward chuckle.

Why is he shaking? It’s not like the President threatened him.

The President smiled and returned to the front of the room as he said “Now what other questions do you all have for me?”

Literally everyone in class aside from Chris raised their hand.

‘Literally everyone’ is a nice change from ‘most everyone.’

Y’know, because it fucking makes sense.

Also, why the fuck is he taking questions instead of making a speech about the shooting, or saying what his response plan will be for gun violence so these kids don’t have to be afraid? Nah, he just pulls up like ‘so who wants to ask me a question?’ Like this is a Reddit AMA.

The President looked directly at me and said “James Patrick, the boy who nearly saved the day, what is your question?”

Nearly saved the day? James didn’t do shit. All he did was run around looking for Abbi, he didn’t save anyone’s lives. The incessant praise James receives for doing absolutely fucking nothing is baffling.

I replied, “You know who I am?”

He responded, “I’ve read up on this school and the recent events quite a bit. How are your feet healing up?”

Why would some random ass dude who got glass in his feet be in any kind of official report? Sure, his name would be among the survivors and witnesses, but he didn’t really do anything of note. This is absolute bullshit.

I was overwhelmed but I had to keep it together so I quickly replied, “Really well actually, the ambulance guys did an amazing job getting the glass and dirt out.”

You mean the EMTs? The paramedics? They have a technical name. This makes it seem like Onion forgot what they were called and just didn’t bother to google it.

Which, honestly, is probably what happened.

The President followed with “That’s wonderful to hear, what was your question?”

I replied, “I just wanted to know how you feel about the things people call you, in the news and around the world.”

Completely irrelevant to the situation at hand, but okay.

The President gave a slightly sad smile and replied “I cannot, and do not want to control what people say about me.

Why? You wanna have a good approval rating, don’t you?

All I can really fully control is what I myself am saying and doing. I find myself repeatedly stating that I came into office with the best intentions, and I continue to lead as President with those very same intentions. Some decisions I have to make aren’t always fair to me, my family or many people around the world, but sometimes your only options lie between the end of a slipknot or the blade a guillotine, and that’s the burden I chose to carry.”

Why does this sound like something Trump would say?

Gross.

Also, ‘sometimes your only options lie between the end of a slipknot or the blade of a guillotine?’ That is an absolutely bonkers thing to say to a room full of high school students.

The class paused for a few seconds and then all at once everyone but Chris & myself raised their hands again.

Why— Why the ampersand? That’s not proper grammar. You do not use an ampersand to replace the word ‘and’ in a sentence in prose writing, the two are not interchangeable.

One of the USSS members spoke up “Mr. President we need to move on.”

He was there for like, two minutes. Why the hell is he going from class to class individually instead of just holding an assembly and speaking in front of the whole school?

The President lifted his hand and said to the class “I want you all to know there are going to be some major changes around your school. I’ve approved a budget shift that will help fund significant renovations and an effective security program that will promote a safer environment for everyone here.”

Uh. Great. Thanks. Better than thoughts and prayers, I suppose.

“I will not stand by and do nothing when these incidents occur. So I’m doing what any responsible person in my position would do to make you all feel safer in this learning environment.”

As much as I hate Onion, we apparently share the same views on restricting guns and gun laws. Not sure how I feel about that.

He then smiled as the USSS opened the door behind him. “Thank you all, and Chris, remember our talk, ok?”

The ‘President D-bag’ talk? That was not really a life lesson, it was just a thing that happened.

Also, Onion should be called President D-bag.

Chris remained speechless as the President walked out.

I relate.

Mr. Hanson then stood up while looking at Chris as if he had just slapped Mr. Hanson’s mother right in front of him. Mr. Hanson maintained his glare as he walked to the front of class.

Uh, I mean, he’d probably get a stern talking to. Even the idiots I went to high school were a bit less fucking brazen than calling the POTUS a douchebag.

Mr. Hanson sighed deeply and looked down at the floor, he then asked, “Did anyone else almost pass out?”

No, just you.

The class erupted with laughter as the teacher wiped sweat from his forehead with the towel he used as a white board eraser. The towel smeared ink all over his forehead, which made us all laugh even harder. Unfortunately I was faced with the reality that he would blame his humiliation on me if I did not tell him right away, as my next period still required I act as a Teachers’ Assistant for him.

Why the fuck would be blame James for that? James didn’t do anything.

The first thing Abbi said to me when I met with her later that day in gym class was “So it looks like Mrs. Stanley’s getting a new desk.”

I replied “The president?”

“Yep, he met with you guys too?”

I nodded and she added “In other news, Jason has been hitting on me, not sure what to do about it.”

Tell him to stop? I mean, easier said than done, but you could try that. Or you could break his arms, whichever comes first.

I replied concerned “Like just flirting, or is it heavy?”

She answered, “I think the whole saving our lives thing went to his head. He just grabbed my butt in class after the President left the room.”

I went silent.

Trying to reassure me she said “I yelled at him not do it again.”

Uh, good. Holy fuck. What a tool.

I replied, “Did you talk to the teacher?”

She answered “Mrs. Stanley saw I was uncomfortable and said she would give him detention if he tried to do it again.”

No, give him detention immediately, he fucking groped someone. Hell, suspend him.

I loved that she did everything I would have done, leaving no room for me to imagine potential alternatives to what she felt about Jason’s chauvinistic act.

She isn’t helpless without you, James. Fun fact, women are autonomous beings who can care for themselves. We’re cool like that.

I smiled slightly and said “Well, thank you for telling me...”

She interrupted “What about you? Any girls grabbing your butt these days?”

Interesting topic of conversation. I, too bond with my nonexistent significant other over ass grabbing.

I replied with a slight smile, “Nope, guess my butt just isn’t as good looking as yours.” She squealed and hugged me

Why is that her response?

as the substitute walked in and blew his whistle.

Oh I forgot they were in gym class.

“All right everyone let’s play some badminton!” the sub said, pronouncing everything as it was spelled.

Raymon responded “Don’t you mean bad-mitten?”

No.

Oh god, did he not read this out loud?

Badminton is often pronounced more like bad-mitten when spoken out loud, so—Why would the sub say it like that? You know what, nevermind.

Jesus Christ, these attempted jokes are exhausting.

The teacher replied “I didn’t Ray-man, is that ok with you?”

Now angered, he responded, “It’s Ray-mon!”

This is aggressively stupid.

The sub laughed and said “Alright everyone, do you want to see Ray-man vs. your sub in bad-min-ton?”

A lot of us screamed “Yeah!” and so the game ensued.

Raymon seemed to get hit with the birdie more than the actual racket did. We kept laughing because he was trying so hard to look cool but kept failing repeatedly and as a result, looked completely goofy.

I’m actually decent at badminton, and it’s honestly not very hard, so this guy is apparently just really uncoordinated.

After the teacher had scored on him for the 10th time Raymon threw down his racket.

The teacher loudly asked, “So is that game? No more bad-min-ton?”

Trying to sound tough Raymon screamed, “This is a sissy game anyway!”

Shut your face.

Someone watching yelled to everyone “Uh oh watch out he might try to shoot us too!”

Who the fuck would say that?

Why the fuck would you say that?

Like, holy fuck that is not okay on every level.

We all went silent; one girl jumped up and walked off in a hurry. I could see she was holding her cries in until she could get out of the room.

A valid response, Jesus Christ. The insensitive asshole who said the deserves a kick to the teeth.

Raymon angrily looked over at the person who made the comment. The individual who yelled put their head down.

In what fucking world would it be okay to make a joke like that after something like this happened? In the place it happened?

This person would be suspended. They’d be in huge trouble. Jesus Christ I hate this book more than any book I’ve ever read. This makes Blood Raining Night look like fucking Shakespeare. I had more fun reading My Immortal than I have had reading a single letter of this drivel. At least My Immortal doesn’t rely on shock and outrage to forward its (dubious) storyline, it’s just pure insanity. But at least it’s fun insanity.

This is just nihilistic, pretentious insanity.

They were obviously trying to avoid being pierced by Raymon’s glare. Raymon then furiously walked off, throwing a tantrum by kicking a garbage can while pulling off his shirt as he passed through the boys’ locker room entrance.

A VALID FUCKING RESPONSE.

“Alright everyone, pick a partner and start playing!” the teacher said just before following Raymon into the locker room.

Honestly, I’d worry if he was okay. In no way was the shooting Raymon’s fault, and I cannot fathom why that person said that to him. That last section was wholly unnecessary.

Naturally Abbi was on my team and we played against a couple of people who were equally unenthusiastic about the sport so we basically just stood around talking about how dorky our uniforms were and basically anything we could to keep our minds preoccupied.

Usually not what I talked about while playing badminton in high school PE, but to each their own, I suppose.

Later that night at dinner, we had to put together a makeshift chair for Rick as Abbi was still staying with us.

A makeshift chair??? What would that even look like? A bunch of pots stacked on top of each other? A stump cut from the back yard? Do they not have like, a folding chair or even a stool? Why the hell does he get a makeshift chair?

My mom began to talk about their move “So Rick let me know he’s happy to help cover your food, utilities etcetera while you stay here in the condo.” she said, Abbi and I looked at each other happily and hugged excited that it was confirmed. Abbi and I didn’t have to move anywhere.

Okay, let me get this straight.

James’ mom is just completely fine with her teenaged son living with his also teenaged girlfriend in a condo, alone, and is just chill with having her rich boyfriend who she has been dating for not nearly long enough pay for food and utilities? And said rich boyfriend is also fine with doing this?

She’s just… fine with this? In what goddamn world would any parent allow that? She deserves to have CPS called on her.

I’m going to walk into the goddamn ocean if this is just an excuse to get rid of adult supervision so these two idiots can have copious amounts of sex that I will then have to read with my two eyes.

My mom continued, “Your sister is going to come with us.”

I looked at my sister and asked, “What’s up sis?”

She just pushed food around on her plate and mumbled, “It’s whatever. I don’t want to talk about it.”

My mom gave me a look that I should just drop it, so I did.

Okay, why though? If we’re going by this logic, why isn’t his sister staying behind with them? She goes to the same school and is half way through her senior year, it would be stupid to rip her away from school so close to graduation.

I had a friend in high school whose father got a new job that sent the family to Hawaii, but she wanted to stay and finish high school, so she stayed with a friend for the school year. But the difference there is that she was staying with adults instead of alone in a house her parents paid for. She was a minor, and not an emancipated one, so she had to stay with a guardian by law. This whole thing makes absolutely zero fucking sense.

Abbi squeezed my hand; she was still smiling widely at me. I was pretty overwhelmed with what this all meant as well. One of the greatest pending burdens hovering over my head had been removed from my life completely. However ridiculous it sounds, knowing I could be separated from Abbi, to me, was the equivalent of a doctor telling me I might have cancer, only to reveal later, it was nothing. I felt like I was getting my life back, without ever really having it taken away in the first place.

Okay. I can put up with a lot without getting utterly furious, but that pisses me off. You do not get to compare almost having to move away from your girlfriend to a possible diagnosis of cancer. My mother just recently beat cancer, and the effect that this diagnosis had on my family when it was given was earth shattering. It was not even comparable to having to move away from a significant other. It was one of the hardest, most terrifying periods my family has ever been through, and it traumatized my sister, effecting her in ways that it didn’t affect me or my father. It was horrifying, all of it, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

Onion is an insensitive dickweed, and the fact that this comparison was even made is insulting. Having to leave a significant other is sad, sure, but it is not on the same level as a life changing diagnosis like fucking cancer. Don’t you dare make that comparison, you fucking ingrate.

Onision, fuck you. I hope you choke on your next meal, wherever you are.

Back to this stupid fucking trash book.

After dinner, Abbi and I cuddled in bed while listening to some of her favorite bands. She would sing along to the songs, knowing most the words, as I just kept my eyes closed, paying close attention to how her skin felt pressed against mine.

In that room alone with her, I often found myself feeling like nothing else mattered. She gave all my senses something to devour to the point where I began to feel like the rest of the world barely existed at all.

The level of obsession James has with her is not healthy. A person’s life should not merely revolve around their partner. At least, nobody mentally well and stable.

I fell asleep listening to the sound of her beautiful voice, softly singing.

Great. I love that this book has inspired rage among the bottomless void of utter apathy that I’ve been feeling thus far. Makes for an amazing and totally not draining reading experience.

Now, I have come to a very obvious conclusion. Onision, Greg, whatever you call yourself nowadays, I frankly don’t care. I don’t know if he’ll ever see this, and I don’t care about that either, because interacting with him sounds like an exhausting waste of time, but I need to say this anyway.

Onision Gregory James Jackson cannot write. He cannot create interesting characters or stories, and he uses topics that need to be handled with respect and care as plot devices. Abhorrently, he uses horrible, traumatic events as some sick form of character development, but these events that are supposed to cause character development cause none of the aforementioned at all. All of these characters are more static than a broken television, and have the same amount of flavor as a single slice of white bread. I also hate all of them. He has been given every opportunity to improve, but refuses criticism, one of the main things that helps a writer grow. I value criticism above all else as a writer, and without it and the practice at my craft, I would not be where I am today.

Also, Greggy-poo, if you do see this, you can’t get this review taken down. You can’t do shit. Because this is transformative content since it’s commentary. I am adding my own insight into this, and making it into something new, and it is therefore protected by fair use. And I’ll just keep on posting.

Whatever. I’ll see you later.

—Kat

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zero-buds · 2 years

Text

Things I wrote in a priest!Nate fic draft that I had to get rid of due to not fitting the story that went like this:

"... Are you going to kill me now?" Nate asks apprehensively.

"What? No!" The man exclaims, which doesn't really comfort Nate, even as he adds on, "I only use violence as an appropriate response."

Nate swallows hard, shifting nervously in the booth, ready to bolt if the man does anything remotely dangerous. "That's good to know..." He says hesitantly, still trying to keep himself calm.

(Yes, this was about meeting our favorite hitter)

Other scenes include:

Nate's cheeks heat up drastically, and he haughtily says, "I was trying to buy time."

The man calms down enough to ask, "Time for what?"

Nate grimaces, "You swear this never leaves here?"

"That depends on what you have to say." The man says gruffly, his voice turning stern in an instant.

It's the tone that makes Nate want to just get up and go home. He stays rooted in his seat and slowly and just above a whisper says, "O'Donnell's close to getting caught."

The man doesn't react for a second before going, "And you're sure about this?"

... *a later dialogue shift*

"What do you mean? Somebody threatened you? A priest?" He scoffs, "Must have a lot of nerve to do something like that."

"Faith in God, not the messenger." Nate says wryly.

The man makes a noise of contempt, "Still doesn't make it right."

Nate finds it a little ironic that the man that's potentially killed people before has some kind of moral compass.

A different chapter that began with a little beating. Violence is in it but not a lot?

It's too bad Jimmy wasn't here now to gloat in Nate's face as he got his face beat in by Mike's subordinates.

Nate tries to hold onto his consciousness, barely able to keep his eyes open. One was swollen shut, and the other was barely even able to see as it was when they finally let up.

"You still alive?" Mike drawls. He was sitting at a card round table lit up by a single bulb, but there weren't any other players.

The subordinates try to help Nate up, but the priest shucks them off and teeters towards the table for a seat, hand clutching his side with a grimace.

"It's a blessing nothing's broken." Nate says evenly.

Mike nods, then looks up at Nate. "You're tougher than you look."

Nate offers a weak and thin smile. "Thank the Lord for that." He croaks, wiping his chin from dripping anymore blood.

The heavier man cackles, "You think you're funny, don't you, Father." He points to Nate, "You think I called you here as a joke? I got a job to do same as you, and I can't do my job if there's a chance that someone's snitching on me. Now how do you suppose I deal with that?"

If Nate was honest, he'd have said it would be impossible and maybe they needed to just get rid of the priest altogether. It's already trouble as it is keeping him alive.

But he doesn't say that, and instead says, "Alright, I'm going to be honest with you O'Donnell. You don't have a mole."

"More jokes?"

"No, not exactly." and here, Nate repositions himself, leans towards O'Donnell and gestures for him to come closer. "One of the guys told me they're planning on getting rid of you and putting someone else in charge."

O'Donnell stares Nate down, trying to intimidate and assess the truth of his statement. "You've got thirty seconds."

These aren't gonna make it into the upcoming chapter of my fic but they were fun to write.

I also play the game, how many puns can I make Nate say that are generally phrases I've heard used in speeches or mass! It could have been way worse as it turns out!

If you wanna read the actual fic, here it is! AO3

#nate ford #leverage #eliot spencer #ao3 fanfic #i lost traxk of the plot in these drafts and had to reel it back #the team will come together in a bit. but like give me another chapter #priest!nate had no business being this funny or likeable but here i am making him a bit too grounded.#but you know what who cares #im too far gone #to be told im wrong

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slasherboyos · 3 years

Text

Different World | Chapter Nine

Word count: 3300+ (adsgf there is a reason for why I split chapter eight)

Date posted: August 6, 2021

Warning: Cursing

“Different World” masterlist: Link

Fanfic Playlist: Link

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Note: A nice chapter, but an important one! Also, there is some dialogue that seems incorrect, but it’s like that for a reason; just giving a heads up just in case! As always, feedback is appreciated!

Marko’s boots stomped down the dirt steps that led into the hotel. The plastic utensils in the Coca-Cola box of Chinese takeout were heard clashing with each other when he jumped down that final ledge.

“Feeding time,” He loudly called, announcing his return with dinner. “Come and get it!” You grumbled as you sat up; you were this close to falling asleep during this small pocket of calm, but, of course, proper sleep continued to elude you. That Walkman you have been thinking about buying was starting to become all the more enticing. In your tired state, you stayed put at the far left side of the couch as Marko distributed the food with a pair of chopsticks in his mouth. Dwayne sat on the other side with Laddie sitting between you two. You put your elbow on the armrest, resting your chin on your palm.

“Tired of me already,” Paul jested, gesturing to the empty spot beside him where you usually sat during meal times. You rolled your eyes and lazily stuck your middle finger at him with the same hand that held your head. David placed himself in his shirt-covered wheelchair.

“I’m not getting up,” you flippantly grumbled, leaning in further into the armrest. Your strained eyes watered as you yawned.

“Your grace, the finest of meals,” Marko chirped. You gave Marko a sleepy amused look at his exaggerated bow and horrible attempt at a posh British accent as he handed you a carton with a pair of chopsticks. You propped yourself up and leaned comfortably against the backrest, bringing your legs up to lay on their sides. You opened the flaps, stomach tightened from hunger, mildly excited to see what he brought you. He, indeed, did know what you liked. You offered some to Star, which she declined as per usual, before you dug in, starved without the help of your usual early-evening snack.

David offered some food, a carton of rice, to Michael, which was refused at first. However, through the power of peer pressure, Michael accepted the carton and a clear, plastic fork. While you may not have approved David’s methods, you were glad to see Michael eating something. You chewed your food and swallowed it. You closed your eyes in complete bliss, finally being able to get your food intake for the night. There was a chance that Laddie may not finish all of his food, so you silently plotted to take it when he was full. It would be a pity for that delicious takeout to go to waste, after all. Plus, it would help decrease the amount of food waste amongst you.

“How are those maggots,” David asked quickly and nonchalantly, which had a very casual tone compared to the substance of his question. The boys laughed and you groaned. You leaned back against the backrest, watching, knowing the direction that this was taking. Of course, they were not going to let Michael enjoy his first meal with them without a little bit of hazing.

“What,” Michael inquired, not comprehending the bizarre statement he heard.

“Maggots, Michael. You’re eating maggots. How do they taste?” Paul had no shame in continuing to chuckle. You hid your growing smile behind your hand. Given the countless times that David had pulled this trick on you, it was strange seeing him do it to someone else.

Michael gave David an incredulous smile before looking down to come face to face with a carton of what you could assume were squirming maggots in his eyes. Almost immediately, Michael dropped the carton and spit out the rice in his mouth and the cave erupted in howling laughter. Even David was almost doubling over with how hard he was laughing. You, much to your shame, also quietly chuckled, trying to stay quiet as if you were not finding this a little entertaining. He was so unsuspecting unlike you. While you knew from the start that they were vampires—though, you did not realize their mind-based abilities at first—Michael was oblivious, so he did not catch on as quickly as you did. Well, he did not catch on at all.

Star did not find this heckling as enjoyable.

“Leave him alone,” she begged, unhappy with the boys’ treatment of Michael, not that anyone listened to what she had to say. Michael realized that the rice was not a pile of maggots, but just plain old white rice. He looked up before looking back down at the mess, really trying to process that it was just rice.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” David gave an empty apology and you rolled your eyes. “No hard feelings, huh?” Michael swallowed his pride and answered,

“No.” Wow, this guy really wants to get on David’s good side. Michael was, at least, tame enough to take it in stride, unlike you. While his initial reaction was worse than yours, at least he did not immediately yell out profanities. David stuck his chopsticks in his noodles.

“Why don’t you try some noodles?” The boys started laughing again. You waited patiently to see what trick David was pulling out of his sleeve.

“They’re worms,” Michael deadpanned and you exhaled. They had an obsession with squirmy bugs, it seemed.

“What do you mean they’re worms?” David dug through the carton, playing dumb to Michael’s concerns.

“You’re still doing this,” you uttered. You sighed, “the joke’s over, guys!” Michael tried to warn him to not eat the so-called worms, but David used the chopsticks to shove more noodles in his mouth. He chewed on them obnoxiously before grinning, content with how he got under Michael’s skin.

“They’re only noodles, Michael.” Michael snatched the carton and looked through it, only to find just noodles. He must have thought he was losing his mind! To your surprise, he did not ask any questions and took it all at face value. You were a little worried about how easily he was absorbing this.

“You’re an ass, David.” He ignored your insult, which was probably in your best interest.

“Nice worms,” Dwayne mocked amongst the snickering. You reached over Laddie and swatted Dwayne’s chest with the back of your right hand, which he hissed at, though he was not in any pain from your back-handed attack. “(Y/N) is being mean again,” he tattled on you to nobody in particular. You raised your hands, physically expressing your annoyance.

“Are you tattling on—what are you, a child?”

“That’s enough,” Star asserted, which Paul responded to with,

“Aw, chill out, girl,” While Star had not liked this from the start, you were drawing the line here. While the prank was harmless, they did not need to be ridiculing Michael this much.

And you were not a fan of Paul brushing Star off like that.

You picked a small pebble and aimed for him, landing on his neck. “Hey,” he whined, but you could not care less about it.

“You’re all a bunch of asswipes!” You complained, swallowing what you had been chewing. “I am so sorry, Michael.” Michael appreciated your apology, though he was still embarrassed and very confused by what just happened. “They did the same thing to me, you know. Made me think I was eating caterpillars instead of french fries. And then Paul ate the fries that I dropped.” You threw your head back to get more food in your mouth as Paul chuckled, still clearly proud of himself for getting that reaction out of you when he had picked up the soiled french fry and popped it in his mouth. “They still pull shit like this with me all the time.”

Your gaze had drifted to Paul, who had his hand in the carton. Your warm smile—which appeared from reminiscing—dropped and your expression morphed into a disgusted one. You knew for sure that he did not wash his hands before deciding to use one as an eating utensil. With a disappointed sigh, you pinched between your eyebrows, exasperated, and expressed,

“Are you kidding—are you eating Chinese takeout with your bare hands?” He put the carton to his mouth as if he was drinking out of a cup.

“Why am I in trouble?” He spoke with a mouth full of fried rice and gestured to Dwayne, who was sitting beside you. Dwayne, now the one being put on the spot, froze, caught red-handed with his hand in his carton, and picked up some noodles. You scrunched up your nose and furrowed your brow. How you did not notice that happening right beside you was a mystery.

“Really? I expected this from Paul—”

“This is bullying!”

“—but not you!” As if to spite you, Dwayne picked up some of his noodles and shoved it into his mouth with a cheeky smile. “Marko is using a pair of chopsticks! Marko! And he’s...” You vaguely gestured to him. “Marko!”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Marko yapped. You pointed at him accusingly.

“You know exactly what that means.” You were alluding to how much of an instinctual person he was. You were surprised with how he did not immediately stick his hand in his food without taking off his gloves when he opened his carton. “Michael, you know what he did the first night I was here?” Michael shook his head, almost smiling at the sight of you putting them in their place. “He threw a pigeon at me. A pigeon!” Everyone, including you, laughed at the fond memory, Marko being the loudest as he caught himself by putting a hand on his knee. When David calmed down, recalling the shocked expression you had when the bird was tossed at the back of your skull, he gave you a seemingly genuine smile. Seemingly.

You intentionally tried to make him feel more comfortable with your story of the pigeon attack. There was a part of you that did not like how he was to become a vampire against his will. While you could not do anything to change that, you could at least be a friend and hold out an olive branch.

Besides Star, Michael noticed how you were showing legitimate consideration towards him while the boys were messing with him with no restraints. You, while taking part in all of this heckling, had the decency to apologize and had your limits. He was still intimidated by your presence but realized that you may not be as menacing as you may appear. In contrast to your piercing stare, your smile lit up the room and you were a fun person to be around.

Of course, he was unaware as to just how doomed to stay with this group of misfits he was. He may have to deal with this taunting for the rest of eternity.

You picked up another pebble. It hit Marko's left temple and somehow landed in his food.

“Get fucked, pigeon-thrower,” you slandered.

“Ow! Dwayne’s right, you are bein’ a bitch!”

“Oh, you’ll get over it.” You picked up a third small rock and leaned forward to get a clearer shot. You harshly threw it onto Dwayne's bare chest.

“What was that for,” he complained, mouth full of noodles.

“Talkin’ shit about me.”

“I never called you a bitch!” Okay, maybe it was fun just being a general nuisance towards them, but that was not going to be something you said out loud. To keep things even between them all, you picked up one more for David. As you aimed, he put up a finger to make you pause.

“Do you really want to do that,” he challenged. Unluckily for him, you found entertainment in doing things out of spite. However, Unluckily for you, he caught the rock with a gloved hand and threw it back at you with force. You laughed with a mild shriek as you tried to shield yourself, but it hit your left shoulder.

“Ow,” you exclaimed and rubbed the ambushed area of your arm.

“You’ll get over it,” he mocked, repeating what you had said to Marko.

“You see what I have to deal with, Michael,” you joked. Paul threw the remaining fried rice in his carton at you. “Don’t throw food, dipshit! You'll get it in the cushions!”

“It’s maggots, (Y/N),” Paul teased. You took hold of a small display pillow, one that you have been sleeping with, and threw it at Paul. Too bad you missed. Paul mockingly said,

“Try again!”

David was lost in thought before he called out to Marko and whispered something in his ear as the excitement died down, the tone of the night changing drastically as silence engulfed the cave. You could decipher what was said. Marko nodded enthusiastically, giving a quick once-over towards everyone, before leaving and coming back with an ornate wine bottle.

Star became visibly concerned, quickly making her way to Michael’s side. Her reaction was enough for you to mirror that worry. There was no way they were going to turn him tonight, right? Getting Michael drunk to make the process easier hardly seems like the best strategy, if that was what they were doing. Plus, he did not seem like a wine guy.

David, with as much flair as he could muster, popped the cork and drank from the bottle. He opened his eyes, his gaze on Michael intense. He’s dramatic; I’ll give him that. You thought.

“Drink some of this, Michael,” David pressured, offering him the bottle. He quieted and harshly whispered, “be one of us.” You could almost see the ellipses that appeared in Michael's head. You were glad you were not the only one who found the dramatic nature David was talking with anticlimactic. Michael stood from the fountain and gingerly took the bottle from David by the neck. As Dwayne and Paul began to chant Michael’s name, Laddie stood and ran away, granting you another reason to be concerned. Marko joined in. Star moved closer to Michael; you swear that she was just about ready to jump out of her skin with how skittish she was being.

“Michael,” David called, egging him on.

“Yeah, sure,” Michael responded before putting it up to his mouth and taking quite a few large gulps of it. The boys cheered with David yelling, “Bravo!” Star took a step back, shielding Laddie with her left hand. You could not understand why she was so nervous, so afraid. It was just a little bit of wine! Are they seriously trying to get him drunk? Maybe you have overestimated the boys’ planning skills.

Or, this was just a part of their initiation. They could be building up to the actual turning, but all you can do for now is speculate. Hopefully, you will remember to ask one of them about it later.

“Your turn, (Y/N).” You swiftly turned your head to face David, not expecting the spotlight to turn to you.

“Me?” Why did they want you to drink from the bottle? It was not as if you were the one who was going to start walking amongst the undead as one of them; Michael was the one who was joining the clique.

“It's like an initiation,” Paul explained. “Drink it and you're officially one of us, sugar!”

“And don’t think that you’re done, Michael,” David warned as he handed you the bottle. He made brief eye contact with you before returning to look at Michael. “(Y/N) has already gone through it all; you’ve still got to show us that you’ve got what it takes.” Michael took a glimpse at you.

“What it takes,” Michael pressed.

“To be one of us, Michael.”

“And I have what it takes,” you asked. No one denied the statement. You were not sure what specific qualities they saw in you and what they may have considered a test of your worth, but you apparently fit the bill.

“Why else would we be having such a special dinner, (Y/N),” David stated. You chortled. It was not as if they served you a five-star meal from some fancy restaurant that only takes patrons that are dressed to the nines. Well, it was in such a fancy hotel, though collapsed, so maybe you could let it slide.

“All this is for me,” you entertained his statement.

“It is if you drink from the bottle,” Marko answered, sitting on the armrest and leaning towards you, giving you a prying look with raised eyebrows. You let out a hefty chuckle before looking down at the bottle in your hand, swishing the liquid in a clockwise motion, feeling the weight of it as it moved. With it in your hand, you got a closer inspection.

Though tacky, it was a beautiful vessel. It was a clear, glass bottle that was covered in gold plating. Over that, red and white gems decorated it. The red drink inside of the bottle was a vibrant red, bright and alluring. It made sense that they would choose such a drink.

Beginning with Dwayne, the boys chanted, growing louder with each one,

“One of us! One of us! One of us!” An involuntary smile grew on your face. In a way, you guess that you were one of them and a part of their social circle. You had grown to care for them and it warmed your heart that they thought the same of you.

It was just some wine, right? In a fancy sunken hotel like this, it would make sense to find such a fancy bottle among the rubble. And it made sense that this group of vampires would have some weird initiation rituals.

You brought the bottle to your lips and took a sip; you did not drink as much as Michael did, but just enough to get a small taste. That sample was enough given how the boys cheered as you felt it go down your throat. You did a double-take, not expecting it to taste like that.

It did not taste like wine, but it was nothing like you had ever drank before. It was strong, but it was from something other than the alcohol content. It was sweet with a bit of a spicy kick to it as it went down. You made a face, still trying to decide if you liked it or not.

“What is that?” You brought the opening to your eye before taking another sip. “Wow, that does not taste like wine.” One more time, you brought the bottle to your lips before concluding that you enjoyed the flavor; they chose a good initiation drink.

You gave the bottle back to David as you licked your lips clean. You sat comfortably with a bashful smile that you tried to hide with the side of your hand. It was as if they were happier with you drinking the wine than they were with Michael drinking it with how they cheered. They clapped to a rhythm and excitedly chanted again,

“One of us! One of us!” You brought your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

"You guys are way too excited for a little bit of wine," you dismissed, a laugh escaping you as you tried to seem unmoved. Paul hopped onto the box he was sitting on and jumped off to the other side. He raised the volume on his stereo, which was playing some rock song you vaguely recognized.

"Now, we really celebrate," David instructed as Paul jogged back and pulled you up.

"You're one of us now, (Y/N)," Marko cheered as he patted you hard on the back, stepping in front of you and facing you with a wide smile, which you mirrored when you recovered. He took notice of how your eyes completely softened while you smiled at him. Your expression was so real, so sincere.

Those high walls of yours had crumbled down to mere dust, allowing them to step in with ease, which was what you were afraid of, but you could not bring yourself to care in the moment.

You felt a hand gently stroke your upper back and you turned to see Dwayne, who was grinning boyishly down at you. As they left you, you could not deny how good you felt when they chanted your name,

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!"

➳ ➳ ➳

Taglist: @lililolli @iloveslasher @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @bazingadotbizoff @motionlessgirl12 @petrelsrose @takemetotheweirdness @collieflower215 @ch3rrydoll @nataliewalker93 @fuzzyblanketsblog @cranberrypills @espurrisfabulous @dwight-y0u-sunflower-slut

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#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys david #the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #the lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x you #slasher x reader #slasherboyos writes

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 2 years

Note

Hey. I don't know if your still doing angst prompts or not, but i was hoping you could write a oneshot with no happy ending. Cheating or breakups work best. I not in a great mood and i know it would really help. If you can't do it it's fine. I just wanted to say i love your work and hope your happy.

Home with 2 frames

TW- ANGST// CHEATING AND BREAKUP.

Damn, why do you wanna do this to yourself?! But I hope you feel better very soon and i’m glad you like my work. I combined both cheating and breakup, so hello pain. The best dialogue prompt that fit it was 3- “Do you still love me?” “I don’t know anymore.”

It started so simply, so unrealistically that Harry swore he could had never seen it coming but then a lot of things in his life were in fact were by chance and so was Draco but then things that develop by chance don’t last all that long, do they?

The first time Harry had a doubt over Draco was by the smell of cologne of another man on Draco’s shirt. It had been a while by then when Harry had been feeling that Draco was growing a little distant but he assumed that it was due to the work place or just the usual stress until that morning he discovered that sweet cologne. Living together for an year had made Harry very familiar to the smell of every cologne Draco ever owned and on that fine Sunday when he was doing the laundry, the smell of that cologne caused a leap in Harry's chest that hurt him more than anything else in the world. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but looking at Draco after that, sitting on the couch drinking his coffee, Harry felt that pang of hurt and he didn't know how to make it stop. He simply wanted to erase the memory of the smell of other’s cologne but every night he woke up after that, the smell visited him like a haunted dream.

___________________________________

The second time Harry had a hint was when Draco came late from work and was partially drunk. Harry never have had any problems with Draco returning home after drinking but that night when he came home drunk, Harry's mind circled into loops of anxiety and emptiness. He feared things that he had been depriving himself from feeling all this while.

"Why are you drunk?"

"Can't I be drunk? Do I need to have your permission? Besides, I'm not even drunk-drunk. Had a couple of drinks with some friends from work."

"I'm not saying you need to have my permission. You never need my permission for anything but if you were drunk, you could have just called me, i'd had come to pick you up."

Draco sighed, turning to face Harry, "I had a lift. Just stop nagging me about it.”

Harry pretended that his tone didn’t hurt him, but it did. “A lift?”

“Yeah, a friend of mine from work. Are you done?” Draco dismissively said and before Harry could have inquired further, Draco had already made his way to the bedroom and was getting changed.

Harry however watched Draco do his activities while slowly sinking into a pit of thinking if that friend who gave him the lift, the same friend with the same cologne.

Draco’s shirt smelled of the same cologne.

_____________________________________

The third time Harry thought Draco was cheating on him was when Draco cancelled date plan with Harry for the fifth time in a row due to apparent busy schedule in work department but when Harry had discreetly asked around with the people of his office, he had learnt that the office have been closing at 6 in the evening those days because of the infrastructural work going on which meant that Draco was doing something after work that didn't involve being with Harry.

Walking home alone that day, Harry felt himself thinking about the times when they first got together and how Draco used to run home as soon as possible just so he could spend more time with him or when he used to buy him flowers at the most random times without a reason or when they used to go on long drives in the middle of the night just because Draco craved ice-cream or when they used to plan dates from 3 weeks just so everything was perfect but now all Harry thought of was the pain that was settling into him and was staying for a little longer than he had wanted to.

He was noticing Draco’s ways of distancing even though he never really delved upon it but he saw the way Draco was becoming. The way Draco started making excuses to leave early for work and used to come home late, the way Draco had stopped talking about things from work at all, the way the excitement in his tone had faded, the way his smile faded every time he saw Harry, the way Draco had stopped asking Harry about how his day was.

Harry still didn’t want to believe his cruel thoughts of the slightest possibility of Draco ever cheating on him, he wanted to have faith in his relationship, he wanted to believe that there was something that Draco wasn’t telling just because he wanted to surprise Harry. He wished that the day when the truth unveils, he comes across something that would soothe away his doubts, his confusion. He didn’t want the only man he ever loved to go in vain. He wanted to believe that their love story could outlive many others. He wanted to believe in the man he loved. He wished the pain would just end because he didn’t know how many more secrets, sleepless nights and silents tears he could take.

____________________________________

The fourth time Harry had a doubt was during a dinner when Draco had surprisingly been home from work sooner but his mood had been somewhat pissed off and Harry had dared to ask about it.

“Draco, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Draco had asked simply focused on eating.

Harry took a deep breath and had said, "it just seems to me that you're not. Like I feel like you're mad at something."

"I'm not mad."

"Are you sure? I mean if there's something that I did wrong or if there's something that happened otherwise in your life, we can talk about it, work through it, you know." Harry suggested.

"Things are fine. Why do you keep saying it?" Draco instantly became snappy and it startled Harry because it was unlike Draco to be such way but despite that, Harry chose to ignore it.

"Because you've been a little distant."

"I'm sorry if I'm not at my best behavior tonight or If I'm enjoying my dinner in silence." The eye roll that tagged along with made Harry's heart sink further in the pit of hollowness. It’s not the eye roll he minded, it was the tone, it was the harsh, brutal way Draco said that made him feel bad for asking anything.

"Draco, I just feel like you've been distant, that's all and I can't help but think that there's something you're not telling me. If there is something, you should tell me because this is effecting me too, okay. We haven't talked properly in such a long time and I feel like we don't talk at all. I'm just concerned about you."

Draco sighed and pulled his chair back, "there's nothing wrong Harry. I know I've been a little distant but it has nothing to do with you."

Harry nodded in hesitation, "I just feel away from you. It's like you're not mine anymore."

Draco instantly looked taken a back and Harry knew that Draco had tried to conceal it but his expressions had not been one of the best and he had let one of his mask fall which was almost enough to send Harry into a zenith of doubts again.

"If there was something wrong, I'd tell you, Harry. I love you, okay."

Harry wanted to point out that Draco had said those 3 simple words for the first time in 4 weeks but Harry knew that this time the words didn't mean as much to Draco as it did to Harry and he knew it by the way his smile didn't cross his face anymore or the way his eyes didn't glimmer with love anymore. Those words didn't mean to Draco what they did before.

"You promise to tell me if something was wrong?"

Draco nodded, "I promise. Tell you what, lets go out this weekend. Me and you, we'll go to the beach, spend a good time together and then come back, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay." Harry had smiled.

They didn't anywhere that weekend, Draco forgot about the said date and went out with "a friend" instead and Harry couldn't bring himself to remind Draco of the beach date again after having reminded him 3 times already before that.

_________________________________

"He can't do that, can he. Like i’m just thinking things over?" Harry had asked Ron sometime later on a brunch break between work.

Ron looked at Harry in silence for a moment and then finally said, "No. He loves you, Harry. I think Draco is capable of anything but cheating."

"Are you sure?"

But the silence that had followed before and after didn't help that growing feeling in his chest that Draco could be possibly cheating on Harry. The silence answered so many things that Harry had a doubt of because perhaps words spoken out of lips hurts more than those in the eyes which is why Ron didn't say them out loud because maybe if Ron had said that Draco could cheat on Harry, it would become real and Harry never wanted those words to become real. Harry was already running on the last of the strings to keep that relationship from falling apart.

________________________________

The fifth and the final time, Harry became sure that Draco was cheating on him because he saw the love of his life kissing the man in the same park bench that once Harry and Draco had kissed upon. He knew the way that his heart stopped right at that instant and the way that his world crashed right in front of his eyes. It disgusted Harry to even think of it, it hurt him, it made him so uncomfortable that he wanted to rip off his skin just because he wanted to get rid of the touch of Draco's, he wanted to at that point forget what Draco ever felt like on him, he wanted to erase the feeling of Draco’s lingering touch, he wanted to forget the feeling of Draco’s lips against his own but nothing came to him but tears.

He cried for hours after that, screams made his throat sore and his eyes were burning till the end of the day when Draco had finally came home and Harry could not so much so even look at Draco. He couldn’t bear the thought of looking in the eyes of the man he loved and not remember the sight of those same lips against someone else’s.The thought made him shudder.

"Harry, why are you crying?" Draco in his concern, kept his bag aside on the table and came and sat before Harry trying to console him.

"I know." were the only words Harry had said.

"Know what?"

"Why did you do this to me?" Harry asked with tears blurring his visions again.

“Did what, Harry? I haven’t done anything.” Draco defended himself.

Harry shook his head, “Don’t say that. You know exactly what you have done.”

“Harry, what are you on about? I haven’t done anything.”

“He makes you feel better, doesn’t he? He makes you feel all that I can’t make you feel good. The man you have an affair with?” The words sounded more heavier on his lips when he said them all out. The words had felt like ice on his tongue and his heart shattered so loudly that Harry felt everyone in the world could hear the sound of it.

"What affair?"

But Harry only looked at him in pleading to stop lying at that point. He wanted Draco to tell him the truth on his own. He wanted Draco to rip off the bandage that he had been fastening the entire month.

"Your affair. With that man."

"My affair?"

"Stop lying, Draco,” Harry snapped, “I saw you two kissing in the park."

“I saw you with someone else.” his voice broke.

And they both remained speechless for several moments. The sound of the cars outside echoed more loudly in the living room of the walls they painted together, in a home that they built together. Harry had never known a silence that hurt more than it did now, a silence more louder than this.

“I’m sorry.” Draco had finally said.

Harry smiled as he bought his hands to wipe off the slipping tears and said, “Does he make you feel good?”

Draco raised his head to look at Harry, pleading with his eyes to not do this to himself.

“It doesn’t matter. Nobody can ever make me feel the way you do.”

“Really?”

“You are special, Harry.”

But even that word didn’t feel special anymore.

“If I were so special, how come you cheated on me?”

But Draco remained silent for a long time because what could he said but when he did, he only said, “If I knew what I was doing, I wouldn’t had done it.”

Harry softly smiled, “But you did know it. It was your choice, Draco.”

“I wish I could change it.”

“I wish it too.”

“So, Who’s better, me or him?”

“Its you, Harry. Always.”

“And yet you broke my heart first.”

That night, Draco didn’t beg for Harry to stay, Draco didn’t ask for his forgiveness, he didn’t ask for anything from Harry because he deserved Harry leaving him. It’s not that Draco didn’t love him anymore, nor was it that Harry immediately stopped loving him that night but sometimes love stories are not easy. Love is hard and who says otherwise haven’t met the real love.

Draco loved Harry very deeply but he also loved him enough to not make him live the pain of seeing Draco everyday with the face and touch that had been shared by another. Draco didn’t want Harry to feel that pain. He understood it because he cared for Harry and he knew Harry would forgive him if he asked for it because that was Harry but Harry deserved a loving where the walls painted in the living room fade from Red to Maroon and the 2 frames turns into a frame wall. He knew he deserved a home with more than just 2 frames. He deserved to have a love story that would be remembered even in the stars and it was unfortunate Draco couldn’t give that to him.

Thank you so much @drarrywords for beta reading, I adore ya..

MASTERLIST 3

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x harry #hp fandom #harry james potter #drarry prompt #harry potter fanfiction #drarry ship #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #draco malfoy fic #harry potter fic #angst prompts #angst #drarry angst #drarry drabbles

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orange-waterfalls · 3 years

Text

Unnecessary Feelings

The Host x gn!reader

ty anon for the request

A/N: BRO. Bro. Bro I. I am so proud of this one don’t even look at me. Also happy spooky month! Might do something with that, idk though. This is more of another character study with the Host, I’ll be honest. I still think it’s pretty cute, though. I didn’t read back through this, lmk about any mistakes. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.4k

Unnecessary Feelings

Host isn’t particularly looking for a relationship, of any sort. Not necessarily. It would be nice, but it isn’t at the forefront of his mind. It’s not that important. Change is weird. He’s been in his same office, writing the same kind of stories, with the same kind of people. That’s fine. He likes that. He likes his novels, his protagonists, and his office.

He explained all of these things to Wilford and Darkiplier, but neither was having it. That’s how he ended up staying at the manor for a while, while his place was being “renovated”. He didn’t know how much he trusted Wilford to “renovate” correctly.

Wilford likes pink. A lot. Host doesn’t. He can't see it, but he knows it. Pink was loud. Pink smelled like raspberries and icing and cherry blossoms and shrimp. It sounded like fair music and joyful screaming and chalk scraping on the ground. It felt smooth and soft and squishy. It tasted like sugar, sugar, sugar, too much to be healthy. Pink made his brain hurt. He doesn’t like pink. Wilford likes pink. Wilford… Wilford fucking loves pink. And Wilford will say it’s pink, and Host will know it’s pink, and even though he can’t see it, he’ll be upset that it’s pink. He doesn’t like pink. He doesn’t know how to say it. So he doesn’t. And he copes.

He takes the opportunity to talk to the others staying at the manor, which was pretty much just Dr. Iplier and… you. Dr. Iplier was a… reasonable man. He was boring. Very boring, really. He directed every conversation to discuss your health or a weird patient he had recently, neither of which really interested the Host. He didn’t enjoy talking to Dr. Iplier too much.

You, however…

Were also kind of boring?

Well, you mostly just wandered around, reading, cleaning, sleeping, not doing much else. He didn’t initiate conversation and neither did you. If you sat next to him on the couch and he sat a little straighter and breathed a little faster, that was simply a coincidence. And the urge to talk to you about his novel for hours was simply boredom. And the desire to listen to you talk for hours was… it was none of your goddamn business is what it was. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t dislike you either. He felt nothing. You made him feel nothing. This didn’t mean anything.

Really.

It didn’t.

But, entirely too fast, Dark and Wil were done. Or rather, whoever they hired was done. Which was good. Host bid you two goodbye. Dr. Iplier told him to drink plenty of water but not too much, and you told him you’d keep an eye out for his newest novel. He felt like he should be blushing right now, he felt it in his face. Nobody commented, so he assumed he didn’t. He felt a thing happen in his chest as he looked at the two of you.

He didn’t like either of you, and if he kept telling himself that, maybe it would come true.

He received a new office. It was much cleaner and brighter, and he actually had room to think. There was an espresso machine in the corner atop a pink table, a “dandelion” yellow couch next to it, a pastel pink desk against the opposite wall, and a few “motivational” posters on the baby blue walls. At least from what he’d heard. Wilford did his best to explain the room. He appreciated that the walls were not, in fact, pink like he expected.

He had to walk around a few times, keep track of his steps, and get used to the new layout. It’s a good room. Clean. No nails sticking out of the floor, no rats scurrying around, no cobwebs, no holes, no nothing. Clean and quiet. Clean. And. Quiet.

…

He fucking hates the goddamn room.

Who likes silence? Who enjoys that? Who wants to be stuck in a suffocatingly clean office with nothing but their thoughts for hours at a time? Homicidal people, that’s who.

Ignore the fact that he has homicidal tendencies and has almost killed/has killed several people, that doesn’t matter right now.

He can just sit and deal. He can take the office, try to coax the rats into coming back, buy some spiders, and write. No big deal.

Except what if he didn’t deal? What if he told them he hated it and couldn’t work in these conditions? What if he was forced to stay at the manor again? What if he could… talk… and interact with people? Without anything barring him from doing so?

He’s… not lonely.

He’s not lonely.

He’s not.

But if he stays in the manor again while Wilford talks about how he has no taste and Darkiplier decides to be in charge of the renovation now, that’s not his fault.

Bim, Eric, and you were staying at the manor when he had to. For the second time. Bim had a thing for rom-coms and dramedy movies, and Eric had started to pick that thing up. You and Host also watched the movies, but whether you actually liked them was beyond him. Usually, you made fun of them together. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear a lot of the ridiculous dialogue. He could drop two random people in a closed-off room together and they’d have more chemistry than half of these Hallmark Christmas Movie couples. You were very quiet during “To All The Boys I Loved Before”, however, so either you loved it or you hated it. He couldn’t really tell.

You two talked a little less than before, you being preoccupied with Eric. Host was fine with that. He could just… talk to you whenever you were done. But you apparently had a low social battery and trapped yourself in a room whenever you were done talking to Eric. That was fine. Host didn’t need to be happy anyways.

He may or may not have showed up at your door first thing in the morning sometimes to get the chance to talk to you. You didn’t know, so it was fine.

But Eric and Bim were smart. They picked up on the Host’s… “feelings” and desire to talk to you. If either were in a room with you and Host, they immediately left so that you could talk. It worked, and Host was happy, but he felt kind of bad.

No. No he didn’t. He felt no emotion towards anyone or anything. The suit he bought for Bim and the journal he bought for Eric meant absolutely nothing. It was a business transaction. You can’t prove anything.

Somehow quicker than before, the room was fixed. Again. And you, Eric, and Bim saw him off. Eric’s voice sounded wet and Bim sounded a little sad as well. You sounded… fine. But he had a suspicion that you knew you were going to see him again soon. And Host was not upset, of course not. And if he was thankful his eyes weren’t exactly working properly because otherwise he might have shed a few tears, it was completely unrelated. You can’t prove anything.

The new room was completely black and white. Black laptop and a white desk with a black chair. White walls and a black floor. A white couch against the wall. No espresso machine this time, which slightly disappointed the Host.

Darkiplier sounded proud when he explained the room. Host could see why, it sounded very pretty. Which he tried to say when he turned to Darkiplier. But his traitorous mouth instead said:

“Host asks if this room is meant for the Host or you?”

The Host was teleported back to the manor this time. Wilford was standing out in front, Host knew because he heard the man’s distinct yell of surprise. He also smelled gunsmoke and wine.

“Wilford.”

“Host. What are you doing here?”

“The Host asks what you are doing here?”

“... I asked you first.”

“The Host asked you second.”

“... business. You?”

“... business.”

“Ah… well, cheers.” Quick footsteps get quieter as Wilford runs away. Host stood for a moment, debating whether or not to apologize to Dark. Before he could decide, the door opened.

“Host?” You asked. Host instantly felt himself straighten up and ball his fists.

“Hello.” He said stiffly.

“Another renovation?” He heard the smile in your voice and forced himself not to smile back.

“Host assumes so.” He nodded.

“So…” You sighed.

“So?” He tilted his head.

“Are you coming in?” You asked. Host let himself smile as he walked into the manor.

He didn’t see you all too much for the rest of the week, and he was severely disappointed. There wasn’t really anybody staying there, just a few people visiting over a few days. Yancy, Illinois, and maybe Bing, if the sound of a skateboard at 3 in the morning was any clue. He was pretty much alone. And that was fine. He was usually alone. He was used to it. This was fine.

Maybe he should stop lying to himself so often.

All too soon, he was on his way back. Again. You were the only one to see him off this time.

“Well… um…” You started. The tension between you two was like a punch to the gut. You were perfectly fine before. What happened?

“Host bids you farewell,” He nodded politely and turned around. Maybe if he left quickly, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Wait, Host!” You called. He froze. “I’m, uh… I’m coming with you.” He spun around to face you.

“Host… asks what you mean?”

“I wanna… see your office. I mean, if I’m… allowed to visit?” You said meekly. Host felt his heart quicken.

“The Host would love-like that,” He coughed as he corrected himself.

“Ok, good,” He could hear the smug smile in your voice. Damn him and his… feelings.

The commute to his thrice-new office was almost silent. Neither of you said anything. You most likely wanted to wait for the Host to start the conversation, but he didn’t want to bother you if you didn’t want to talk. It was a little awkward. But after a while, it became comfortable. He liked just being in your presence.

He thought that was what he would miss most about the manor.

You both stood outside of his office door when you arrived.

“Well… here we are.” You whispered. Host nodded solemnly. “Do you want to do the honors.” Host lifted his hand to the doorknob, feeling himself shake. He clutched the doorknob, not moving an inch. He could feel your eyes on him. You were worried. This was fine.

You could visit. But what if you didn’t want to? What if you saw his stories? What if you thought he was cruel? He was, but not to you. He would never be to you. He could stop. He could write different stories. He could write a romance! It would still affect people’s lives, but for the better? At least until the story ended and he had no control over it. What if you wanted him to stop? He couldn’t just stop. Would you give him an ultimatum? You wouldn’t… would you?

“Host--” You started. He whipped around to face you.

“The Host does not want to enter the room.” He said, voice wavering a little. He cleared his throat. Embarrassing.

“What? Ho-”

“The Host wants to talk to people. The Host… wants friends. The Host wants to stay with you and the others.” He grits out. God, this was pathetic. Was he begging?

“Host, open the door.” You sighed. The Host froze. What? Why were you… what?

Oh. So that was it. You were seeing him off… for the last time. You didn’t… you… didn’t like…

Right. Yeah. You were a polite person. He should’ve known.

“But…” He trailed off and faced the floor.

“Host, I really think you should open the door,” You said, the smile clear in your voice. His eyebrows furrowed. Well, you didn’t have to be so eager about it, Jesus.

The Host grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open with a crack against the wall.

“Jesus, man!” Bim’s distinct game show voice sounded from inside the room. Left front corner. “What’s got your boxers in a bunch?”

“I always thought he was a boxer-briefs man.” Dr. Iplier said from the opposite side.

“I can confirm that he is, in fact, a boxer-briefs man.” Google said from the same place as Dr. Iplier.

“I honestly would’ve thought commando.” Eric’s voice was muffled, as if he was facing away from everyone else.

What… What the fuck?

“What. The fuck.” He said loudly. You clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Surprise! We’re invading your office. Please don’t resist.” He could, again, hear the smirk on your face. He almost wanted to be mad. Almost.

“What?” He turned to you. You let go of him and stepped in.

“We fixed your room! You got your bland-ass beige walls, your hardwood floor, cobwebs, dust, and I think there’s a rat somewhere in the walls…”

“His name is Remy!” Eric said happily.

“Sorry, Remy is somewhere in the walls.” Host didn’t move, still processing this whole situation.

“The Host… doesn’t understand…” He rubbed his temples.

“Well, you seemed… lonely. And we like spending time with you. So… we’re gonna spend time with you!” Bim explained.

“You don’t have to do things alone anymore. Just… call someone up and we’ll come hang out.” Dr. Iplier said.

“Only if you ask, though.” Eric added softly. Host didn’t move for a long while.

The others began to fidget, thinking they did something wrong. Eventually, he took a breath, and everyone else held theirs.

“Is… is the Host’s equipment still here?” He asked.

“Your writing stuff? Yeah, it’s on the desk.” You answered. Host went quiet again, thinking.

“Do… You guys want to help the Host write something?” He mumbled.

“Hell yeah we do!” You clapped your hands once. Host made his way over to his desk. All the others, including you, crowded around him as soon as he sat down, pushing each other to get a good look.

This was slightly claustrophobic and pretty uncomfortable…

…

It was perfect.

#the host x reader #the host x gn reader #the host x gender neutral reader #x reader #x you #the host markiplier #the host #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #markiplier alter egos x reader #the author markiplier

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youamongthemelissas · 3 years

Note

hi mwah <3

may i have a scenario with zoro being a brat who doesn't want to go down on his girl, but she just puts in his place by sitting on his face? 👀

ara ara, it seems that the fifteen hours I've been sleeping have made me reap the rewards uwu

well, I really hope you like the result and that those 3,3k words make up for the delay in my writer's block. i've only reviewed it a few times because i'm really really sleepy right now, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes! :(

warning: oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, face sitting, etc. only for +18. smut everywhere

Zoro and I had known each other for almost two years, but he changed his position from hookup to boyfriend two months ago. Our chaotic relationship started at a horrible party. Everything that night was horrible, except when the handsome guy approached me offering his help when some ramshackle human being spilled water on my shirt. To complete my disaster, the outfit I wore was white and cotton, so it marked the contours of my breasts just right. Damn day I decided to leave my house without wearing a bra. Too embarrassed, I just crawled into the bathroom – which didn't even have a lock – and waited for the crowd to dwindle or for my shirt to dry so I could get out of that unhealthy place. But fate didn't have the best plans for me, as I saw the bathroom door open and a man enter that cubicle.

"This is the ladies' wc, you know?" I informed the guy angrily.

“I know,” he replied simply. "I saw the whole scene, so I decided to come make sure you're okay."

I arched my brow and stared at him with half-closed eyes. Was he feeling okay? I looked for signs of drunkenness in him, but his voice was steady and he looked too sober.

“Very nice of you, but you can't just lock yourself together with a strange woman in a cubicle. You know, I can interpret this as sexual harassment!” I snapped.

“Oh, fine. I was going to lend you my shirt so you could wear it and wouldn’t have to wait for yours to dry, but I see you don't need my help. Bye and sorry for the inconvenience,” and so he left, not giving me a chance to respond.

I cursed the Universe, but then I stopped myself because a tarot reader had informed me that a situation like this could happen throughout the week and I didn't listen. In the end, it was my fault for being a stubborn and skeptical one.

I really couldn't tell how long I was locked in that fetid cubicle, but when my t-shirt dried enough not to leave me practically naked from the waist up, I walked out and saw the same guy as before, he was talking to a red haired girl, actually it looked more like an argument was going on between them by his annoyed expression and her restless gestures. Would she be his girlfriend? Was the discussion focused on me and the bathroom incident? Well, I wouldn't stay there to find out and risk getting hit by the girl for something that wasn't my fault. He was the one who entered the ladies' room with an unknown woman!

And my disastrous night ended when I lay in my bed and turned off the light to finally sleep and erase all memories of the party from my head. But that boy's face has not left my mind.

The days followed normally, and when I was already forgetting the cool guy, I saw him for the second time in a bakery. He wore the same shirt that day of the party and sweatpants. His sleepy face gave away that he had just woken up and had just left the house to go buy bread for breakfast. He saw me but pretended not to. I got the feeling I should have apologized for the misunderstanding, but he was already making the request. Luckily, we were assisted together as soon a second attendant appeared who assisted me as well.

As soon as we paid the bill, we silently left the place and I got a chance to talk to him as we were heading in the same direction.

“Hey,” I called him, being ignored. "Boy, wait a minute"

“What is it, girl?”, he snapped at me sharply.

“I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding… Seriously, I was just freaked out by a guy walking me into the bathroom…”, I was sincere.

"It's all right. Go on with your life in peace.”

“And you had a girlfriend, right? Like, you were still wrong in the end…” I couldn't hold my mouth before needling him.

This time he stopped abruptly and turned to me, making me smack my face into his chest.

"Girlfriend? First you accuse me of sexual harassment and now besides being a harasser you think I'm a traitor?”

“I didn't accuse you of anything! Except the girlfriend part. You and that red haired girl seemed to be fighting really bad, like boyfriends do,” I clarified.

“Redhead girl?” he seemed to search his memory for what I was referring to. “Nami? God forbid me dating that devil woman! She's not my girlfriend, and we were fighting because…”, he stopped mid-explanation. “This is none of your business, girl. But she's not my girlfriend,” he ended the pseudo-argument.

I nodded and went on my way.

“How long will you follow me? Now I can interpret that you're a deranged stalker”, he told me right after we turned down the same street, after walking close for a few meters.

“I'm not following you, my house is on this way”, I replied.

And that's how I found out that we lived in the same condominium.

Although I clearly remember the first two times we met, I can't say when exactly we started to change our cat-and-mouse relationship and elevate it to a more intimate one. Maybe it was when he fucked me for the first time in the laundry room in the building. I was taking my clothes out of the machine while he put his clothes in another one, and then we looked at each other and as if we had the same idea, he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up to put me sitting on top of the machine he had just finished stuffing with his own clothes, putting it to work and taking me in a kiss while taking off my panties. When he entered me, I moaned loudly, but the sound was drowned out by the shrill noise of that old machine. Zoro confessed to me later that he chose precisely that one so my moans could not be heard. I think it was the most insane thing I did, because at any moment someone could come and catch us, but luckily for us that only happened after Zoro had cum on my thighs and taken me off that old thing. It was weird walking with my legs sticking together because of his cum, but I didn't have time to clean up, just lift my panties and straighten my skirt before passing the newcomer, who didn't seem to have noticed our presence.

After our first sex, we didn't get apart anymore. We couldn't be alone as we caught fire and had sex wherever we were.

As time went by, we calmed down and our meetings became more spaced, but our chemistry didn't extinguish even a little bit during these almost two years, on the contrary, it only earned us the beginning of dating. And we became more than just hookups, we became friends too, those who know about each other's lives and I got to know Nami, the red-haired friend he was fighting that night at the party. I came to discover that they could never be boyfriends, because she loved money and women.

Everything with Zoro was almost perfect. He was a good boyfriend, and even though we're two hotheads, we never fought. There are always dialogues in our relationship and this helps a lot to avoid unnecessary fights. Besides, sex is wonderful, everything just right, except for one small thing that bothers me. We combine a lot in bed, I always try to please him and give him pleasure at all times. I've lost count of how many blowjobs I gave him and how many times I let him cum in my mouth, but the problem is that he never even gave me oral sex. And that makes me a little frustrated and scared. Was the problem with me? I took good care of myself, but he always shifted position when I tried to get him down on me.

One day, while I watched him playing his favorite game, I stroked his hair.

“Babe?”, I called him.

“Hm?” he mutters, not moving an inch.

“Do I disgust you?” I asked bluntly.

"What? Where did you get this ideia?”, he turns abruptly to face me, doing something wrong in the game because soon there are some curses directed at him in the chat.

“It's just a question.” I shrugged.

“It can't be just a question. For you to ask me that, there's definitely a reason behind it,” he replied, no longer looking at the TV screen, and not realizing that he was being offended by the other players. Damn virgins.

“Nevermind…”, I hesitated, unable to let myself be affected by the comments, which weren't even for me. "Your game friends are very angry with you."

"Fuck them, the issue here is you.", he held my face with both hands, making me look at him. “Tell me what made you think about it,” he looks deep into my eyes, almost reading my soul and I immediately regret opening my mouth. But it was too late, lying was out of the question, because he knows very well when I lie, so I had no choice but to tell the truth.

“You never gave me an oral. So I deduced that the problem is with me”, I said at last and he let me go.

It was his turn to shift the focus to another corner.

“It's nothing to you, it's me who is the problem. I've never done that to any women, and in the movies I see them “squirt”, what if that happens?” He looked a little frustrated and embarrassed.

I got up from my seat and stopped standing in front of him, making him glare at me.

“You have to stop thinking real life is a big porn movie, Roronoa,” I said, putting my index finger on his forehead. “I really admire you knowing how to fuck without looking like a caveman”, I said that last sentence more to myself.

“Hey!” he heard and seemed offended. "It hurts, okay?"

“Sorry, but that is nothing but the truth”, I rolled my eyes.

Even though he didn't suck me when we had sex later, the seed of doubt was already planted in his head.

I know this, because days later he was more committed to making me cum. Before he seemed to care only about his pleasure, but after our conversation, he even put his fingers to work on my clit – which were presented by me –, as he moved in and out of me, until I came on his fingers. It felt good, but I wanted to feel his tongue down there, and wanted to see his head between my legs. I wanted so badly to squirm in pleasure beneath him as he sucked everything I had to offer him.

When the dream day finally arrived, all my thoughts turned opaque as I felt him hug me from behind and lean his body against mine as his lips found the skin of my neck.

“Do you know how hot you look wearing my shirt?” he asked huskily, pressing me closer to his body, making my ass fit into his crotch. And I already felt it was hard. "Even more so I know you're not wearing anything under it."

I couldn't hold back the moan as I felt his fingers travel up my waist until they reached my breasts under the fabric. He squeezed it first and then circled the nipple with his finger, making it hard. He knew how sensitive I was in that area. And to my delight, he lowered his other hand to between my legs, and slid it to find my sex, which was already starting to get wet.

When I was in his apartment, I liked to have just one piece of clothing. Walking around his house half-naked was one of the most satisfying things for me, because I knew that anytime we were going to get laid and being too undressed would get in the way of the process. So I opted to wear just a pair of panties or a T-shirt with nothing underneath, as was the case now.

He removed his hand from my body and pulled me away, but only to pick me up and take me to his bed, where he laid me down and leaned over me and started kissing me.

His kiss tasted like the whiskey he drank a few minutes ago. I ran my hands over his body and scratched him lightly on his back, inside his shirt. He ended the kiss and rolled off of me, but only to undress. I watched the scene intently, looking at each piece of skin that was revealed to me little by little. When he took off his underwear and his cock popped out, I felt my mouth water. He was there in front of me, completely naked.

I got rid of his t-shirt I was wearing and crawled until I was close to his body, took his hard member in my hands and started masturbating before putting it in my mouth. Unconsciously, I reared my hips up, and ran my tongue over the glans, tasting the pre-cum. Without waiting, I felt him lean over to smack my ass, and it made his cock almost hit my throat, making me gasp. I pulled it out of my mouth, gasping for air, but went back to sucking on it. When I relaxed, I put him in one piece and this time I got used to that intruder so deep, and I heard him grunt. He loved when I swallowed him like that, but before I could make him cum, he gently withdrew from my mouth and lay down on the bed, turning me to stand beside him.

He kissed me again and wrapped his hands around my waist and slid them to my ass, where he slapped my ass, making me moan into his mouth.

We made out until he was on top of me, making me feel his hard cock on my thigh as he kissed my neck and played with my nipples.

I was already throbbing with lust, and it got worse when he slid his fingers to my clit and touched his fingertip to that sensitive spot, making me arch into him. But he did nothing but tease me, and I wanted him to use his tongue this time to bring me to orgasm. For that reason, I forced his head down and he got the message, surprisingly trailing kisses down my body, but before he got there he stopped and returned the kisses to where they were before, leaving me frustrated.

I sighed in annoyance, and shifted our positions, getting on top of him. I positioned myself right on top of his cock, and I fit my pussy there, not to slide him inside, but to rub myself there. He liked my boldness a lot, but I abruptly left the place until I was positioned right in his mouth. I felt him startle under me, but it was too late because I was already sitting pretty well in his face, with my cunt snug in the place where I always wished it was. He showed no resistance, just ran the tip of his tongue over my clit and I closed my eyes, sighing.

At first, he was stuck and a little lost, but little by little he got used to it and now his whole tongue passed through my intimacy, sometimes sucking painfully. It was good for me and it was good for him too, because I felt him grip my thighs tightly, holding me in place as he penetrated me with his tongue. I saw stars. When he smeared the entire place and when my body showed signs of the first orgasm, nimbly and using a little force he took me off him and put me back on the bed, with my back to the mattress. I thought he had given up, but he again slid down my body and positioned himself between my legs, giving me that wonderful sight. Again he pressed his tongue against my clit.

Seeing him there, with his head buried in the place I'd always dreamed of, made a fire burn in my stomach, and my brain worked tirelessly on the new sensations his mouth was gaving me me.

And he looked very committed and thirsty. He was like someone who had gone days without even a drop of liquid and who had just found an inexhaustible source of pure water. And I was that source. And just the thought of having him thirsty for me was enough to give my boner more ammo and make my hips start working nimbly, looking for more contact. Zoro shaved every day, but there were already two that he didn't shave, so the growing hairs scraped the inside of my thighs when I moved my hips, leaving goose bumps.

His tongue explored every corner of my intimacy and his arms closed tightly around my legs as he brought one hand to one of my breasts and rested it there, squeezing every now and then as my body showed signs of orgasm.

He didn't let go of me when I came for the first time or when I screamed for the second. Instead, he circled my waist with his arms and held me immobile in place as he sipped every drop that dared escape from me. He showed no signs of satiating even when I scratched his shoulders or slapped him in the arms to get him to let go. In fact, it felt like it was just an extra boost for him when I was on the verge of madness, writhing in his mouth and thrashing around aimlessly for support and control of the spasms in my body.

He was both a sadist and a masochist at the same time, which is why I was so attracted to him.

When he released me, I was almost voiceless and completely shaky. I wouldn't be able to form an intelligible word, and his playful smile, which I saw blurred due to the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, gave away his satisfaction at seeing me in that state.

When I finally composed myself and my heart stopped beating in my chest, pulse, and throat, I took a deep breath and stared at him. He was lying beside me, looking at me and running his hand down my face, lovingly.

“You look beautiful when you're coming”, was the first thing he said.

“You look handsome between my legs”, I returned the answer in the same tone.

He smiled and massaged his jaw, as if in pain.

“Too bad it takes so long to cum, my chin hurts”, he complained and I rolled my eyes.

“You didn't leave me after my first orgasm,” I accused. “For those who were afraid of giving me oral sex, you seemed to enjoy it a lot”, I continued, with a pout.

“I had no idea you were that tasty,” he said, smiling slightly. “Now you better get ready, because your taste has gone straight to the top of my favorite flavors”, he assured me, as he pulled me by the waist to glue my body to his.

I kissed his lips softly, and touched our foreheads, and he kissed me again, obscenely. It didn't take me long to be on my knees for him, determined to reward him for the multiple organs he gave me.

Seeing him from above, with his eyes closed and his expression filled with pure delight, made me want to feel his cock in the back of my throat to the point of gasping for air. But he refused to cum inside my mouth. He lifted me up and positioned me on all fours on the bed and placed the condom on his cock.

When he sank into me, I moaned loudly, too happy that my sex life with my boyfriend was perfect.

#zoro x reader #one piece boys #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #zoro imagine

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starryeyedrookie · 3 years

Text

Before It’s Too Late (Ethan x MC)

Book: Set during book 2 ch. 11.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Evelyn Long)

Word count: 1,996

Rating: General

Category: Angst

Summary: An attack scene rewrite when Ethan spends the night with MC.

A/N: Characters and some dialogue owned by Pizelberry.

I finally decided how I was going to write this rewrite. Initially I was trying to do a full chapter rewrite but half way through, I was already at 3k+ words so it would be waaaay to long. Thankfully, I managed to summarize it but also give it a ton of angst. (This was my first time writing angst btw.) I hope you enjoy!

8:30 pm

It's been exactly five hours since the attack. Five excruciatingly long hours since Evelyn’s world was turned upside down.

Travis, Senator Ed’s assistant, had slowly been poisoning him with lead. When they went to confront him, he pulled out a can and sprayed everyone in the room with a deadly unknown substance.

The Senator managed to escape and Travis was dead. But so was Bobby, with Danny fighting for his life.

Evelyn begins to cry again as she thinks about Bobby’s wife and two kids that he left behind. They would now have to grow up without their dad. He would miss so many big milestones in their lives all because of two selfish people.

“E-Evelyn…?” a weak voice calls from across the room.

She walks over to the bed where Raf is lying down, a light sheen of sweat covering his pale face.

The team had come a little while ago with a shot that they had hoped would slow the progression of their symptoms, but Raf’s still seemed to be getting worse.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, gently wiping the tears from her face.

“I was just… thinking about Bobby’s family and… everything that he… would miss. He was… just telling me… this morning that… his oldest daughter is turning sixteen this year…”

“I know… life isn’t fair. They didn’t deserve any of this.”

“You didn’t either, Raf.”

“But I saved you from having to suffer so much… and that’s what matters.”

“Raf…”

“Shh… listen, I feel… like I’m… getting worse. Will you… do me a favour?”

“Of course. Anything you need.”

“Please help me call my vovo.”

Evelyn hands Raf his phone to unlock, then scrolls through his contacts until she sees his grandmother’s name, tapping it, she places the phone to his ear.

“Olá, vovo.”

“No… I’m not well. There was an attack at the hospital today and the Senator’s assistant tried to kill him. A few people were in the room when it happened. The Senator escaped, but his assistant and one person that works here died and the other is in critical condition. Evelyn and I are in quarantine right now.”

“I just wanted to let you know… that if I… don’t make it… I love you with all my heart.”

“Alright, take care. I love you too.”

“Thank you, Evelyn.” he takes a shaky breath, his heart rate slowing and growing more shallow.

“Evelyn… I think you should… call the team… I'm sorry I couldn't save you… that this… might be the way it ends…” he murmurs, eyes meeting hers, as warm and kind as the day they met.

Taking his hand, she can barely see him through her tears.

“You'll make it through this Raf… I know you will…”

He smiles up at her before his eyes flutter closed and his hand falls away.

Moments later Ethan and June rush into the room.

“I’d hoped that the treatment would buy us more time,” Ethan says sadly.

“We don’t know that it didn’t.” Evelyn tries reassuring him.

He nods as June’s eyes fill with sympathy.

“We’ll get him to the support suite. There’s still a chance that we could fix this Evelyn.” June tells her, as she prepares Rafael for transport.

Evelyn’s almost too scared to ask, but she needs to know. “How’s Danny?”

“We… we lost him.” Ethan’s voice comes out in a whisper.

“No…”

“Before he died he… he asked to be autopsied. To help the two of you.”

As Ethan turns to help June, Evelyn reports Raf’s most recent symptom of hot cold reversal.

“Stay strong, Evelyn. We’ll know more soon.” June tells her reassuringly as she and Ethan slowly push Raf out of the room.

Now she’s all alone, curled up on her bed, the pressure in her head becoming almost too much to bear.

Her mind drifts to Danny. She remembers her first day when he was the one that told her that she had just performed a thoracotomy with Ethan Ramsey. The night of the party her roommates had when he and Sienna talked all night until they fell asleep together on the couch.

Sienna. All Evelyn wanted to do was rush to her side and hold her. She and Danny were supposed to be together. They were meant for each other. But how he was gone, and Sienna would have to live with that loss. She probably never even got to say goodbye.

Goodbye. Evelyn had to be prepared.

Picking up her phone, she sees that she has several missed calls and messages.

Calling her mom, she picks up immediately.

“Evelyn sweetie! Are you okay?! Oh my goodness, we saw what happened on the news and I thought we lost you!”

Hearing her mom’s voice, her tears start falling again.

“I’m hanging in there right now mom. It’s just me in the room now. Rafael just got taken to the support suite.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

“Mom… is everyone there?”

“Yes, honey. We’re all here.”

“Can you put me on speaker please?”

“Hey Evey.” she hears her dad’s voice say.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hi Evelyn, do they know what it is yet?

“Hi Ben, no they don’t. We got a shot earlier that was supposed to slow the progression of the symptoms, but we don’t have a cure yet.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, guys… if I don’t make it…”

“No Evelyn! You can’t say that!” her heart breaks as she hears Ben crying through the phone.

“Wait… just listen to me. I’m preparing for the worst. I want you guys to know… that I love you all so much. And I want to thank you for everything that you’ve done to help me fulfill my dreams.”

Aside from the sound of soft cries, the line is silent.

Finally, her dad speaks up.

“We love you too sweetie. Stay strong and hang in there. You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll try… take care.”

“Bye.”

Later, her friends and the diagnostics team are gathered outside her window. Bryce looks at her with haunted eyes while a crying Sienna buries her face in Jackie’s shoulder.

“How’s Kyra? The surgery must be over by now…”

“She’s fine and resting. We haven’t told her what happened yet.”

“Good idea.”

“So, do you know what it is yet?”

Ethan explains to her that it’s a maitotoxin that he had never seen before. It was still present in Danny’s bony postmortem and on the surface of his skin.

Processing the information, the realization hits Evelyn like a ton of bricks.

“Maitotoxin… that’s derived from parasites in fish, isn’t it? But… there’s no antidote so… I’m going to die here…” her voice now barely a whisper. “I can’t believe this. Today was supposed to be happy. Kyra was supposed to have a successful surgery and everything was supposed to be fine… but now Danny’s dead, Raf is in a coma, and I’m… I’m…” Evelyn buries her face in her hands as she begins to cry.

“Now isn’t the time to give up hope Evelyn. Because of Raf’s actions, you didn’t get much in your system so your symptoms aren’t as advanced. There may not be an antidote as yet, but I promise you that we’ll be working round-the-clock to synthesize one.” Ethan tries to sound as confident as he can, his heart breaking to see Evelyn hurting.

“You won’t be alone.”

Everyone turns around to see that the statement had come from Tobias, as he, and several Mass Kenmore doctors approached them, all prepared to do whatever it takes.

As everyone heads down to the lab, Ethan lingers behind at the window.

“Are you okay, Ethan?”

“No, Evelyn, I’m not okay. But you don’t need to hear about that. You should try and get some rest. Have you slept at all?”

“No. I can’t stop thinking about Rafael. How long he can last… whether… whether it’s already…”

“…Do you want me to stay for a while?”

“Yes, please. If this is my last night alive, I want to spend it with you.”

“If I was in your position, I’d feel the same way about you.”

“Really?”

“Really, Evelyn.”

Suiting up and entering the room, he gently guides her to the bed.

“Now lie down. I know it sounds impossible, but I need you to relax and try to think about something happy.”

As she lies down, Ethan gently pulls up the covers around her.

“Something happy like what it would be like if we went on a date?”

“If that’s what makes you happy then sure.”

Her happiness leaves as quickly as it came.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just feel like there are so many things that I should have done.”

“Like what?”

“I should have loved more.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve spent the last decade focusing on college, med school, work, always guarding my heart because I might be in another city the next year. It makes me wonder… what could have been,” she confesses sadly.

Ethan is quiet for a long moment.

“Since we’re sharing regrets, do you mind if I share one of mine?”

“Go ahead.”

Reaching across, Ethan’s gloved hand finds hers.

“I wish I hadn’t asked you to stay away.”

“You do?” she asks surprised.

“We’ve wasted so much time. I’ve wasted so much time. I should have held you in my arms every day and told you how much I… how much I love you.”

“Ethan?”

“Shh… I just needed you to know… that no matter what happens… I love and care about you more than I can ever tell you.”

“I love you too, Ethan.”

“You do?”

“Of course! I thought you knew that already.”

“I did. It’s just so wonderful to hear you say it.”

“I wish I could kiss you.”

“Soon. You will soon.”

Joining her on the bed, he wraps his bulky arms around her as eyes begin to flutter closed.

“Evelyn? Can you please look at me?”

“Hmm?”

Forcing her eyes open, she looks at him through his helmet.

“Promise me that you’ll keep fighting. That you won’t give up. Oh, Evelyn… our story’s only just begun and it can’t end here. Please… please promise me.”

“…I… promise,” she whispers before falling asleep.

The next morning she wakes up to excruciating pain in her stomach. Doubling over, Ethan reaches across from the chair for her.

“It’s okay Evelyn, you’ll be alright!”

Feeling weaker than ever, she can barely make out the blurry figures running to her window.

“Evelyn! We did it!” Aurora shouts.

“Huh?”

Baz and June enter the room with the antidote as Tobias explains how they did it.

“What about Raf? He’s much sicker than I am…”

“We administered it to him, but too far there’s been no chance. It’s possible we’re already too late.” Sienna gloomily reveals.

“But he hasn’t gotten any worse, that has to mean something!” Elijah adds.

As Ethan gently injects the serum into her vein, he whispers into her ear.

“Hang in there, Evelyn.”

Over the next several anxious hours, June comes regularly to take her blood.

Slowly, her blood pressure stabilizes and the nausea begins to fade.

As Evelyn looks around, she realizes that the room no longer looks blurry.

“Get up.”

She turns around to see a hazmat suit free Ethan stroll into the room with a big smile on his face.

“You mean…”

“It worked. There’s no trace of toxin left in your bloodstream. Even if there are still traces in the room, we know now that we can-”

“Oh!”

Evelyn flies into Ethan's arms pulling him into a tight hug.

“…What you’re saying is I’m finally free to do this?”

“Yes. This too.”

He leans down capturing her lips in a passionate kiss as tears fall down both of their faces.

“Ethan, aren’t you worried that someone will see?”

“No. After almost losing you, I’ve decided that there are more important things to worry about than what people will think. I love you with all my heart, Evelyn Long.”

Through her tears, she smiles up at him.

“I love you too, Ethan.”

{Two Weeks Later}

Taglist: @mercury84choices @a-crepusculo @emmasumbrella @quixoticdreamer16 @headoverheelsforramsey @mm2305 @adiehardfan @schnitzelbutterfingers

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesbookclub

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#playchoices #open heart #oph book club #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x evelyn #oph fic #open heart fanfic #choices fic writers creations

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mehbzz · 3 years

Text

I dreamt about Avery. Well I dreamt about having an argument with Avery. Which inspired this. F!reader x Avery 18+ Daddy Kink, gaslighting, possessive/controlling behaviour, blowjob. Dialogue heavy

“It could be better.” You tease but Avery doesn't look amused and your smile falters slightly.

“Sorry.”

You look back down at your plate and half heartedly jab at the salad he'd ordered for you. Conserving your figure he'd said. You're pretty sure if he wants to conserve your figure you'd have been off with the steak he was currently eating.

Between the stress of school and having to find money to pay Bailey every week you were hardly eating, barely having enough money to even buy food. In fact your school skirt had felt a little looser than normal that morning.

“Eat your food don't play with it, you're embarrassing me.”

He's voice is quiet and cold, and you aware he's close to being angry with you.

You take a reluctant bite and give him a small smile. He still doesn't look happy but he relaxes a little.

“I was disappointed not to see you this afternoon, after school.”

“Sorry I had plans. I didn't know you were waiting for me.” You try to keep your voice light, casual, but you can feel the disappointment radiating off him.

“It's Wednesday. I told you I could be free on Wednesday and Fridays to take you home.”

Could be free not would be free. You mutter in your head, taking another bite of salad to stop yourself from answering out loud.

“You were with your friend?” He says friend like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth and takes another sip of his wine.

“Robin.”

“What?”

“His name is Robin.”

He doesn't look happy with your explanation. “You spend a lot of time with… Robin.”

His lip curls in obvious distaste and it sends a chill down your spine. You think you've misjudged his mood; he's not disappointed, he's angry.

“Well he's my friend,” You say weakly, “and we live together. It's hard to avoid each other.” You try to joke but he doesn’t smile.

“I think you should spend less time together.”

“What? He’s my friend.”

He glances around and then leans forward, reaching across the table to grasp your hand. “And what am I?”

“I, you’re-” His low tone flusters you and you stutter over your words.

“I'm what?”

“You’re my daddy.” You whisper.

His lips twitch in an almost smile. “Yes I am. And when daddy tells you to do something, you do it.”

You nod.

“I didn't hear you princess.”

“Yes daddy.” You don’t raise your voice from your quiet whisper but you look up at him. He enjoys teasing you but if someone overheard he would not be happy.

He sits back, pleased at your submission. “You will need a new dress for the party,” His eyes swoop over your evening gown with a hint of disapproval. “You’re taste is-” “Party?” He looks annoyed at your interruption. “On Saturday.” “I don’t remember you mentioning that.” He frowns, “If you paid attention when I talked you would.” “I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy with school.” Had he really told you about it? Whitney had made you promise to keep the weekend free and you felt your stress rise. You did not want to risk his or Avery’s ire. He’s quiet as he watches you. “How are your grades?” The quick change of topic surprises you. “They’re good.” He raises an eyebrow and you take that as permission to continue. “I passed my tests this week with A's,” He smiles and you feel a little calmer at his obvious approval. “And I’m working on a solution for the maths competition. I think I have a pretty good chance of winning.” “Wonderful,” His smile widens. “I’m proud of you.” Oh. The praise makes you warm and you feel your face heat in a blush. You’re not sure when this relationship started becoming more than a money maker to you but his praise and affection made you feel good and you found yourself craving it more and more. He looked after you; sometimes you even thought he cared about you more than he let on. It was something you’d never felt before and you couldn’t help latching on to it. “So um, the party?” He sighs, his irritation evident and it stings. “We just talked about this.” You shift awkwardly. “I already have plans this weekend.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. He’s going to be mad. “No you don’t.” it’s a warning. “I really can’t I’m-” “You’re being difficult.” He waves his hand dismissively. “You have plans with me. Just because you say you don’t remember them doesn’t mean they weren’t made. I will pick you up at eight.” You stay silent and focus on finishing your food. Arguing now was only got to get you in more trouble.

You see the waiter approaching out the corner of your eye but Avery waves him away, placing a pile of bills on the table and stands up. “I'll take you home. Your behaviour has been disappointing tonight.” His words stab at your heart and you feel a lump in your throat. You were not going to cry. It would only disappoint him more.

The ride back to the orphanage was quiet and tense. His displeasure was clear and you chewed your tongue in an effort to stop yourself crying. He pulls up opposite the orphanage, under the broken street lamp and you both just sit there silently. Are you dismissed? Does he not want anything from you tonight?

“Here.” It’s curt, cold, as he holds out some cash. It’s less than he normally gives you and with no request for a kiss your heart sinks a little. He is really upset with you. You’re heart was aching and all you wanted was to hear him tell you how good you were, how proud he was of your behaviour.

You bite you lip, unsure before leaning forward and pressing your lips tentatively to his, if he’s going to reject you. He doesn’t pull back but he doesn’t respond either. You kiss him again, chaste fluttery brushes of your lips over his. “I’m sorry daddy.” He relaxes at your whisper, finally responding to your efforts and kissing you back. “Say it again princess.” “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me daddy.” Avery sighs, tucking your head into the nape of his neck and running his hand down your spine “Such a sweet girl, I can’t stay mad at you.” You melt into his touch, and between his body heat and the calming motion of his hand down your back you feel yourself starting to nod off.

The stern murmur of your name draws you back from your sleepy state, and he brushes a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear as you sit up. "You can make it up to me.” You nod, hands already reaching for his zipper but he catches your wrists with an amused huff. “No. You do as I say in the future. Am I clear?” “Yes daddy.” You smile, not really registering what you’re agreeing too; just glad he seems happy with you again. “Good girl.” He pulls you back into his arms, hand resuming the comforting touch down your back. The two of you stay pressed together for a long while until your muscles start to ache at the awkward angle and he eventually lets you go. “For a dress,” He hands you some more money, pulling it out of your reach when you try to take it. “I want you to show me before you buy it.” You nod. It was by far the least embarrassing thing he’d asked you to send him pictures of. Avery shifts in his seat, spreading his legs a little wider and looks at you expectantly. “Now, why don’t you show daddy how grateful you are?”

You nod and quickly undo his trousers, wasting no time in taking his hard cock into your hand lest his good mood turn sour again. You give the head of his cock a gentle kiss, and his immediate sigh of pleasure encourages you to lick a long, slow stripe from base to tip. “I’m not in the mood for teasing, princess.” You hum in response eager to please and suck the entire head of his cock into your mouth, the satisfied grunt from above making your cunt clench in response. He always sounds so good when he moans, the sounds of his enjoyment nearly always turning you on. You swirl your tongue round the head of his cock a couple of times before taking it down your throat as far as you can. Tears are starting to gather at the corner of your eyes but Avery’s moans and gasps of pleasure make you persevere. Retreating and going down again, not stopping until your nose is buried in the dark pubic hairs at the base. As Avery’s hand tightens in your hair, stopping you from withdrawing you try not to choke, relaxing your throat and trying to breathe through your nose. Tears are running freely down your face and drool runs down your chin, and you hope he’s not going to punish you for making a mess. Just as you’re reaching your limit he relaxes his hold, allowing you to pull back just a little. “Be a good girl and swallow.” his voice is strained; you hum in agreement, you wouldn’t dare do anything else. You’d learnt the hard way that getting stains on his expensive suits earned you pretty harsh punishments.

It doesn’t take long, only a couple more swirls of your tongue before he cums with a loud moan. It’s thick and slightly bitter and more than you expected but you swallow greedily, determined not to spill a drop. He holds you close, the head of his cock just resting on your tongue until he manages to catch his breath. Once he lets go of your hair you tuck him back in his trousers and sit up, giving him a pleased smile. Hand cradling your jaw and his thumb stroking down your cheekbone he smiles in return. “I want you to think about me when you touch yourself tonight.” It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say and your face heats fiercely as he chuckles. “You don’t want to disappoint daddy now do you?” His smile turns wicked as your embarrassment increases but he has mercy on you and pulls away to just rest a hand on your knee. "Don't I get a reward for bringing you home safe and sound?" He taps a finger to his lips. You lean in and press a chaste kiss on Avery's lips. His fingers flex on your knee and you think he’s going to deepen the kiss, maybe ask you to stay, but he doesn’t and you climb from the car, happy but a little disappointed. He watches you for a moment, making sure you reach the door of the orphanage before driving away.

#degrees of lewdity #Avery #degrees of lewdity Avery #dol

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