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stillalittlelostngl · 1 year

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Gojo/Reader One Shot Collection Pt2: Between Gods & Animals

Pt1: NSFW Sick Day

TW: mentions of gore and death

So I went back and forth about if i wanted to write this now or hop to the Fushiguro kids but i care about linear storytelling too much to skip to that just yet. In my head the person who died is Haibara but I never explicitly say that and the description of the death doesn’t fit either so if it is or if it’s someone else that’s really up to you.

The scent of antiseptic and benzaldehyde clings to your skin.

You’d nearly scrubbed your skin raw in the shower you took in the clinic but the smell still lingered, burning the soft tissue of your nose and imprinting itself onto your brain.

The humid summer night did little to help as you made your way across campus and back to the dorms. You were relying on muscle memory to bring you to your room. Your mind too focused on beating down the grief that was threatening to consume you to pay attention to your surroundings.

He’d liked the summer. Or at least he said he did - this had been the first summer you experienced with him. There was no way of knowing how true that was.

Your feet guide you as your mind tries to piece together the puzzle of what had happened only two hours earlier. Re-playing the scene did not help make sense of it. How could it have all gone to shit so suddenly? It was just supposed to be a routine exorcism of a 2nd grade cursed spirit. It was supposed to go just as smoothly as all of the other assignments. It had been going just as smoothly.

And then his head was caved in.

The job had been as straightforward as any other. A window had informed the higher ups of developing activity with a curse that had taken shape in a small office building downtown. There hadn’t been a report of anyone killed, just attacked, and most of the office workers had made it out of the building. There had only been one left inside. Rescuing the civilian was supposed to be the challenging part. Fear and the rush of adrenaline does funny things to people - especially inexperienced civilians. Some would cry, some would freeze up, and the best would quickly comply with whoever was taking charge of the situation. The worst were the ones who’s fight or flight demanded that they fight any and everything they encountered - even if they were there to help. Realistically, you understood that there was only so much horror that the human mind could stand before it broke and lashed out at anything it came in contact with. A wounded animal doesn’t ask before striking. It was hard to fault someone who had just experienced the most horrifying thing in their life for acting irrationally and violently.

The man the two of you had gone in to save, unfortunately, had fallen into the last category.

When the two of you had found his hiding place he had pounced. The surprise attack was sloppy work at best but you hadn’t been able to fight down the irritation in your voice as you tried to explain to the man that neither of you were a danger to him. You’d wanted to just knock the guy out and drag him out of there to be done with it but your partner practically scolded you for suggesting it.

Your partner was stuck on doing things the “right way” which left you both trying to talk down a man from his adrenaline high. You couldn’t see the point - wrestling with the guy was wasting valuable time and potentially pointing more people at risk but he was adamant that everyone be treated with consideration regardless of the situation. You’d always thought he was too good of a person to a fault.

It had happened so suddenly. The curse had been attracted to all the noise the man had made as he tried to fight both of you off. You had turned your head away from him and your partner to handle the curse for just a moment, your energy gathering in your hands as your muscles tensed for the upcoming fight, and in that short moment the man had managed to push your partner off and away from him so that he could run down the hall. He hadn’t had a solid grip on the civilian because he had been more concerned with making him uncomfortable than restraining him. The shove had caught him by surprise and he fell to the ground, his eyes wide as they locked with yours. You’re reminded of stories of ancient civilizations that would sacrifice children to volcanoes. You imagine the look in their eyes in their final moments was a lot like his.

And then his head was caved in.

The curse had taken advantage of the opening the civilian had made and in the blink of an eye one of it’s many large limbs had slammed down onto his head before either of you had been able to process what was happening.

It only takes two pounds of pressure to drive facial bone into the brain - you’d learned that your first year as a sorcerer. The human body is so incredibly fragile even when imbued with cursed energy. In those few seconds you could only process the wet sound of his skull breaking open like a watermelon against the tiled floor. Even in that moment you knew it was one that would haunt you for the rest of your days. You nearly gagged as his blood and pieces of brain matter sprayed onto you and coated the surrounding area. It was still warm.

The body that is sown is perishable - even his. His head was caved in and his family will have a closed casket funeral.

You can still see him in your mind’s eye. Each time you blink, what was left of his crushed face is seared into your brain. Bright white bone against the red and mangled remains of body tissue. One of his eyes hanging out of its socket. He had always had dark eyes, the brown so deep that they almost looked black, but there’d been that spark of life in them. That twinkle of light that burned so brightly when he smiled or laughed - they’d looked at you in his final moments like he’d known what would happen. Like he knew the light would be snuffed out in mere seconds.

A pressure rises in your chest and your throat tightens at the memory. You’d seen a lot of fucked up things in your years as a sorcerer - deformed curses, techniques that would mangle and reconstruct the human form into something unrecognizable - but this is the image that would break you.

You hardly notice when you make it back to your room -the key going into the lock. Twisting the knob.. The opening and soft closure of the door. None of it registers until you find yourself standing inside the darkness of space. You’re not even really certain of how long you’d been standing in the dark when you fully come to.

You don’t bother to turn on the lights as you toss the keys to the side - not caring if they landed where they shouldn't - before making your way to your bed.

The physical and emotional exhaustion has finally caught up to you and all you wanted was to collapse into your bed and shut out the world. However, when you land you don’t feel the plush mattress or the cool, smooth sheets you’d spent far too much money on. You were met with the hardness of a body you’d grown very familiar with and a soft ‘oof’. Your body recognizes him instantly, instinct knowing him by touch alone. It only takes a millisecond longer for your brain to catch up. You turn in his embrace to face him and you’re almost certain you could see the bright blue of his eyes shining in the darkness.

"Hey,” is all he says in greeting as he pulls you closer to him. As if it’s perfectly normal for him to have been waiting in your bed in the dark. By now maybe it is. You’d stopped bothering to ask some time ago how he always managed to find his way into your space. It’s not like you’d ever get a straight answer from him anyways. ‘A magician never reveals his secrets,’ he’d always say with that shit eating grin and annoying waggle of his fingers before laughing at his dumb joke. He’d always found himself far more funny than he actually was.

You offer a soft hum in acknowledgement as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. The bergamot and vetiver of his far too expensive perfume fills your lungs as you breathe him in, chasing away the sickly sweet odour of sanctity. You don’t trust yourself to speak. Not yet at least.

"You were taking a while to get patched up,” one of his hands toys with a strand of your hair - rolling it between his fingers. He’s phrased it like an observation but you can hear the question in his voice.

"Yeah…Shoko had some more important stuff to deal with so I had to wait a bit,” the words were heavy on your tongue, the muscles of your jaw working overtime to even form them.

You don't say what the 'more important stuff is' and he doesn't ask. He doesn't have to. What's understood doesn't need to be explained.

His eyes are heavy as they watch you, you feel them as Atlas must’ve felt the world on his shoulders, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not when the emptiness in your chest feels as if it’s about to swallow you whole. Instead, you bury yourself deeper into his chest - afraid and ashamed of what he might find if he saw you as you are. .

You’re a sorcerer. Loss is inevitable and you both have known that from the beginning. Your partner knew it too. Many sorcerers have died during your time in the profession. An upperclassman from your first year, a teacher from the Kyoto school the second - you both know the standard procedure. You’d both grown accustomed to it. What’s done is done. You’d always managed to beat your grief and anguish down to the deepest recesses of your mind. You had beat it down by force if you had to. But this time it was different. No matter how much you tried to will the sorrow down it fought and clawed it’s way up out of you. Your fingers tighten the grip they have on his shirt. "It's not fair," is all you can choke out before sobs begin to wrack your body.

You both know by now the world never is.

It’s not fair that your friend had to die so that the civilian could live. It’s not fair that the world will keep turning regardless of the hollow feeling eating away at your chest. That tomorrow people will wake up and go to work, run errands, pick up their kids from school, and go to bed like nothing was any different.

The banal cruelty and indifference of the world is incomprehensible.

Why isn't the world collapsing the same way it feels like your heart is? A part of you, that ugly and vindictive part of you,wished that it would. It shouldn’t get to go on like nothing happened. Is this the pain of Achilles? Of Gilgamesh? The grief that consumed them - the same sorrow has entered your belly and made itself at home. It nearly sends you wandering into the wild just as they had. It’s so easy to be consumed by righteous anger and yours is all fire and brimstone.

You wonder what Gojo sees as he leans away from you, his hand rising to rest on your cheek and his thumb wiping your tears away. Does he see the wrath of Abraham’s god? Or does he see a pitiful creature? A stray dog lost in the cold and scratching at his door, begging for comfort. You cling to him tighter as he mumbles some soft words that you don't bother to hear but oh how they make you ache. He gives you a gentleness that this world has never bothered to show you. He’s opened the door and you eagerly rush in to know the warmth of a home.

Your anger slips away as you hold onto him like a lifeline.

Tomorrow, the world will continue turning. Your friend will still be dead. The higher ups will continue to send more sorcerers and children off to their own deaths. You will grieve.

But tonight, right now in the darkness, two shadows reach through that hopeless and heavy void. Their lips meet and for a moment you believe in something more than heartache.

________

Did y’all know cadavers give off a scent that smells like cherries and almonds? I saw a tiktok about it awhile ago and I did more research about it and stumbled upon an article about Osmogenesia which is briefly referenced.

One-shots dealing w/ grief are always iffy to me cuz you (typically) don’t get that build up in the relationship to really understand why the loss is supposed to hurt the character like that. It’s a lot of telling w/ little showing and ugh. I also hate having to write action - i’m so bad at it so i leave the heavy work of picturing what went on to the readers. So sorry

Anyways - let’s hope this paid off cuz i’m planning for reader to take something away from this loss and apply it to future installments. Next chapter is Fushiguro babies :)

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sptsblogs · 4 months

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Techniques for Manifesting Wealth That Work: All You Need To Know

Introduction

Manifesting wealth and abundance may seem like an elusive pursuit, but with the right mindset and strategically applied techniques, it is possible to attract prosperity into your life. This article explores practical manifestation methods backed by science and spirituality to reprogram your mind and actions to create real financial results.

Whether you want to manifest better cash flow, a promotion at work, investment returns, or a new business, use these techniques to build your wealth creation muscle and transform scarcity thinking into an abundance mindset.

The Science Behind Manifestation

The science of manifestation lies in the power of the subconscious mind and its ability to turn thoughts and beliefs into reality. Neuro-imaging studies reveal that the brain does not differentiate between vividly imagined experiences and real experiences.

By visualizing and focusing intently on your desired financial outcomes, you impress those images onto the subconscious. This activates the reticular activating system to start noticing opportunities related to your visualizations, which you can act on. With consistency, the end result is your wishes materializing.

Powerful Wealth Manifestation Techniques

Crystal Clear Focus and Intent

Define your monetary goals and desired wealth with absolute specificity. Quantify income amounts, investment returns, or savings targets. Ensure your financial manifestations inspire strong emotions and meaning so your brain perceives them as important pursuits.

Regular Visualization

Spend at least 10-15 minutes daily visualizing already having achieved your monetary goals. Make the scenes as vivid as possible. Engage all your senses - see details, feel emotions, hear relevant sounds. This imprints neuropathways that attract your visions into reality.

Affirmations with Feeling

Repeating positive financial affirmations reprograms your subconscious beliefs and identity around money and self-worth. Say them aloud with conviction. “I attract wealth and abundance effortlessly”. “I am financially free to pursue my dreams.” Choose affirmations that resonate emotionally.

Meditation for Clarity

Meditating to quiet your mind builds focus for manifestation. It aligns your thoughts and energy on your financial goals. Daily practice also cultivates detachment from outcomes while attracting your best life.

Let Go of Limiting Beliefs

Examine and release unconscious limiting beliefs about money, like “Wealth is only for other people” or fears of losing wealth. These block you from boldly pursuing prosperity. Replace them with empowering money beliefs.

Leverage Gratitude

Expressing gratitude for any current financial blessings trains your brain to expect more positive results. Give thanks for income, savings, investments, unexpected money, and abundance signs. This magnifies existing wealth energy.

Act Purposefully on Money Goals

Manifesting requires pairing focused intention with strategic action. Make a plan for your wealth goals. Build skills, connect with people who can help, be alert to opportunities, invest diligently. Align your daily habits with your abundance desires.

Envision Prosperity for Others

Wishing financial freedom and happiness for others generates positive energy that attracts the same into your life. Share inspiring money goals with loved ones to motivate joint success. Uplift others with encouragement and emotional support for their financial dreams.

Commit to the Process

Manifesting wealth requires regular practice to rewire your subconscious mind and energy. Be patient with yourself and keep your vibrational ‘broadcast’ focused solely on abundance to attract prosperity. With concerted effort, you can override past financial programming. Maintain faith in the process.

Conclusion

You have the power within to manifest greater wealth and freedom through focused intention, visualization, belief, inspired action, and an abundance mindset. Commit to daily manifestation techniques that resonate most powerfully for you and awaken your natural capacity to attract money and prosperity. The financial future you desire awaits.

#Wealth Manifestation #Wealth #Wealthy #Manifestation

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bl00dgutsgl0ry · 3 years

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Since your requests are open i shall throw my brain rot at you <3

Slightly mean(bc he is a tease and is having the time of his life bc of the current scene in front of him) Kaeya that watches his virgin s/o try to fit him inside but she fails ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

And finally after some time he agrees to help out.

(uh also if u are accepting anons, may i be the ⚠️ anon?)

Pairing - Kaeya x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Degradation kink, praise kink?, very slight dollification

Word count - 1.7k

Other comments - Dude your Kaeya brainrot is always welcome here I love him. You’re so smart, mean kaeya is next level. And of course everyone welcome ⚠️ anon! Also this one is a little shorter, i just wasnt in the mood to write the build up i just wanted s e x

Your body was hypersensitive with nerves. It was your first time so of course you would be anxious about this whole situation. What wasn’t helping was your boyfriend's relentless teasing. It was aggravating and embarrassing, but part of your body was getting off to it as well; your body getting even more sensitive as time passed.

Right now, you were trying desperately to ride Kaeya, but he was just way too big and you didn’t know what you were doing so nothing was going well on your end. Kaeya on the other hand was having the time of his life watching you struggle.

“God if you hadn’t told me you were a virgin, I’d have never known seeing as how you're whining like a little slut right now cause you can’t ride me.” You shot your boyfriend a glare. God you just wanted to shut him up.

“Watching you struggle like this is quite amusing my dear… Maybe I’ll just sit here and force you to keep trying. You're destined to get it right at some point hm?” You heard him chuckle as you groaned out. There was a feeling that was beginning to bloom deep within you. You couldn’t quite name the feeling but all you knew was that you needed Kaeya’s help and you needed it now.

“Please Kaeya. This is driving me crazy. I need you Kaeya.” There was a needy rasp in your voice that made his only exposed pupil blow wide. There was a low rumble in his chest that only made this feeling intensify. You didn’t know what you had done, but you knew you weren’t going to regret it.

In less than a second there was a punishing grip on your hips, Kaeya’s long slender fingers holding so much strength in the iron grasp he had on you. Effortlessly Kaeya had you hovering over his pulsing cock. You whimpered in anticipation.

“Such a pathetic useless slut, always in need of my assistance. Hold yourself up like this so I can line myself up. You’re competent to be able to do as simple of a task as that right?” You nodded quickly, biting your lower lip instinctively out of mild anxiety. Once again, despite it all, this is still your first time. Your position did not waiver when Kaeya pulled away one of his hands. You could still feel the imprint of where it was on your hip.

“You’re okay right (y/n)? We’ll take this first part slow so as to not hurt you too much. This isn’t going to be amazing at first but just trust me it’ll get better. Then we can get back to having real fun.” The change in Kaeya’s whole tone and demeanor gave you whiplash; a stark contrast to the dark look he held only moments ago when degrading you. Instead he held a warm, almost concerned and genuine look on his face.

You took this moment to really admire him. The way his dark blue hair fell over him, shining in the pale light of your lamps next to the bed. Your breath never ceased to be taken away when you looked at him like this, cherishing the way his tanned skin contrasted the shining pale blue eye he had exposed. You guessed you had been staring at him for a little too long, with the way his expression started leaning more towards concern than anything.

“I always trust you Kaeya, this time is no different than the others.” A gentle smile formed on both of your faces. There were no words for how much you guys trusted each other, having this unexplainable bond. Somehow you both knew more about each other than yourselves.

Kaeya nodded before he nudged the hand that was still on your hip down, signaling for you to start lowering yourself. There was still an unease in the pit of your stomach, but it was much less noticeable now. You jumped slightly when you felt the tip of Kaeya’s dick intrude, causing him to chuckle quietly and begin rubbing comforting circles into your hip. You continued down, wincing as you felt yourself begin the stretch around him. It ached, and Kaeya was right, this certainly did not feel amazing, but you trusted him. After a few more painstakingly long moments of lowering yourself, you were fully seated on his lap. You could feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, and slowly the pain began to fade; leaving a burned need to feel more in its wake.

You squirmed on his lap, not trusting yourself to talk at the moment, in fear of saying or making some abhorrent noise. Kaeya’s punishing grip returned, holding you still on his lap.

“That didn’t take very long. Are you sure this is your first time? You’re really acting like a slut now.” The antagonizing tone returned to Kaeya’s voice, and it was really affecting you now. You desperately needed him to move. You let out a whimper as you futilely tried wiggling around in his grasp. A dark smirk graced his face as he tightened his grip even more.

“What was that my slut? What do you need? How am I possibly to know what you need if you don’t tell me. I’m not a mind reader darling.” You groaned, your face lighting up red with embarrassment with the knowledge that you were indeed going to have to beg this man to move.

“Kaeya…. I need you….to move please. I need to feel you in me. Please Kaeya help me.” You saw that familiar darkening on Kaeya’s face that made you melt, and an ache began deep within you.

“Your wish is my command, my beloved.” Before anything else could be exchanged, Kaeya hoisted you up until only the tip was still inside you then almost dropped you back down. You repeated this motion over and over and you let out loud moans and cries.

��That’s right. You’re my whore. I’m the only one that ever gets to see you this way or make you this way. Let everyone know who you belong to. Who exactly is making you whine like a bitch.” You cried out at a particularly hard and direct thrust into that one special spot that made you see stars.

“Say my name you little whore, say it out loud so we can all know whos fucking you this well.” You cried out once again, your moans being interrupted with the loud gasps of his name on your lips. You chanted his name like a prayer to the Archons above. In this moment, he was your archon, your divine being who you followed with unwavering devotion. What else were you to think when he was bringing you such pleasure.

“That’s it my darling. Even though your only use is being my fucktoy you are such a good one. You just keep sucking me in so well, this feeling is addicting.” You moaned out louder at the words he was throwing at you. Only moments later your legs began getting very tired from the constant up and down. You placed your hands on his toned chest as you began slumping over, not being lifted up quite as easily.

Suddenly you felt yourself being tipped over before Kaeya quickly pulled out, rolled you onto your back and caged you in with his strong arms on either side of your head. Without warning he thrusted himself in again, much easier this time.

“We haven’t even been doing this for very long and you already seemed so fucked out. Of course I shouldn’t be very surprised seeing how pathetic you are.” You could feel tears beginning to fall from your eyes from the pleasure that was wracking through your body. The tears only egged Kaeya on, as his thrusts became even harder. You could sense how sore you were going to be, you might have to stay home tomorrow. Kaeya began to let out strained grunts and groans, gritting his teeth in pleasure. He could feel the way you were squeezing him, and how you were about to fall over the edge any second now. He needed to ruin you.

The tears began to fall faster the closer you got to the end, a huge knot threatening to break in your core. After only two more targeted thrusted your back arched off the bed, smashing into Kaeya’s torso above you as you screamed out his name along with a few other profanities. Your vision flashed white as the feeling of your orgasm crashed over you like unrelenting waves in the sea.

Your cries quieted down as you slumped down onto the bed trembling, tears staining your deep crimson cheeks. Kaeya had grown much louder over those few moments and before long we was shoving his throbbing cock as far as he could get it and cumming. His orgasm took him by storm, nothing ever feeling that incredible before. The noise he made as his body shook above you and his sweaty forehead fell into the crook of your neck only made you tremble more. Before too long Kaeya gently pulled his softening dick out of you and slumped down onto the bed next to you. You were immediately pulled into him as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. This skin to skin contact filled you with the fuzziest feeling in the world as you snuggled as deep as you could into him.

You guys stayed in silence, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing of the two of you. You were both tangled in each other’s bodies before you quietly heard Kaeya mumble a soft ‘I love you’. You smiled and kissed his chest, not having the energy or willpower to speak. Not long after the two of you were lulled into the deepest, most peaceful sleep of your lives.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagine #genshin impact imagine #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #smut #kaeya #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya smut #kaeya imagine #kaeya x reader

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

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The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 29 - No Sound but the Wind

Masterlist; Chapter 28

Summary: Stalsk-12.

Warnings: Angst™️, swearing.

Author's Notes: Here we are... at the end of all things. My take on Stalsk took a lot of pain and time to figure out and actually write down so I hope it will be satisfactory. As usual, thank you Shet, for life saving diagrams and patience, as this wouldn't be possible without you.

Still probably 2-3 chapters to go so we're not quite at the end end just yet 😅 With that said, this chapter is as much a finale is it could be. Do hope you'll enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Waking up on the morning of the battle was strange. After the group conversation on the bridge, you and Neil collapsed into the bed, falling asleep instantly. The dreamless night was a welcomed surprise, and so, when you finally resurfaced on the side of consciousness again with the phone alarm ringing in your ears, you felt kind of rested. With the tight schedule, you took no liberty in wasting minutes cuddling and promptly got up, with Neil asking you to join him in his cabin in a quarter for the suiting up. There was no chance in hell you would refuse that.

It was once he left, after a kiss and quick reassurance that somehow it would be alright, the reality dawned with full force. Anxiety settled in your stomach, the nauseous feeling growing with every minute. A strange ache in your right shoulder, radiating down the arm, adding to the rising pile of questions. And doubts. At the edge of your consciousness, a festering thought that would not disappear. What if… what if? The question too terrifying to name, let alone answer.

Desperate for a distraction, you looked outside at the blue skies dotted with clouds, painting a contradictory image to the inside of your mind. At least you didn’t have to worry about the inverted rain… Sighing, you took one last look at the right shoulder and massaged the area with a frown permanently etched onto your face. Maybe it was nothing. With the time nearly running out, you quickly grabbed the battle gear and left the room.

As expected, the suiting up with Neil proved to be the distraction you needed. The moment he opened the door for you, wearing nothing but dark green combat trousers and a matching fitting long-sleeved shirt, your jaw fell slack. Somehow, out of the mess in your head, the only thought that survived was the attraction towards him. Because he looked very good. The shirt complimented his upper body in all the right places, making your eyes widen, overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings. The unbelievable luck and the gravitational pull that always pushed you towards him. And not without reason. Neil instantly caught your wandering gaze, took your hand in his, and pulled you inside the room, letting the door close behind you. The clueless look, checking your sanity from up close, before he asked:

“Why are you staring at me like that?” running a hand through his hair, making the strands stick up in every direction.

Adding to the charm. Stifling a groan building up in your throat, you placed the clothes on the empty chair before turning to face Neil again. Utterly perplexed in his dark green outfit. Stupidly hot. Just… fuck it.

“Because I can’t believe how attractive you are,” stating the truth felt relieving, but still like an understatement, “Like- my god, I-” you huffed, annoyed at both him and yourself.

Passive aggressively, you took off the shirt and pants, taking fleeting pride in how Neil seemed transfixed as well, watching your every move with fascination. Yet, it was much easier for him to shake off the mood and grab the holster. The brow furrowed; coherence lost:

“Seriously?” he was looking at you as though you have lost your mind, thoughtlessly fiddling with the thigh holster.

It was the glimmer of uncertainty that you noticed in his gaze that made you push forward. In any other moment, you would have backed off, pretended the exchange never happened, or responded with a joke to change the subject. But faced with the slightest potential that Neil could be genuinely doubting your claim, embarrassment and pride had to be abandoned. You quickly buckled up the trousers and took a step closer, taking a long look over his body. Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the details that never failed to make you want him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you nodded:

“Yes. Being this fit is unprecedented,” grinning, you took in his stunned face, letting the frustrations and feelings lead the speech “It’s those broad shoulders and the narrow hips that always distract me when you’re wearing shirts,” letting your fingers skim over his chest and down the stomach in appreciating strokes “Long legs with those thighs… Darling, you’re making that holster look almost illicit” you eyed the accessory encircling his upper thigh with unhidden hunger, the tip of your tongue poking out to deliver the punchline “And let’s not even get to the best part because you know what I think about it” settling your palms on his hips, you grinned wickedly, meeting his gaze.

“What?” Neil swallowed hard, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist.

Still so adorably confused. But now, you could notice the faint flicker of gratitude. And amusement. Might drive the point home then…

“Always knew you’d be a spectacular lover, but Jesus Christ… you’re making me regret half the times when I said no to you before” brushing over his backside and pulling your lower bodies flush together, you teasingly slipped your thumb underneath his shirt.

Taking immeasurable joy in the shallow gasp, he let out upon the simple action. You observed as he slowly shook himself awake, blue eyes searching yours, and then a hand raising to cup your cheek, tenderly brushing over the skin:

“What’s gotten into you?” the outpouring of affection waking up the butterflies in your stomach “Not that I’m complaining, though,” he shrugged, the slight concern tinted with happiness.

With your brain eager to remind you about the terrifying reality and the spikes of pain pulsing through your right shoulder, you chose to dive headfirst into the feelings warming up your chest. You shrugged and covered his hand with yours:

“Adrenaline fucked up and activated the wrong part of my brain. I’ve no clue,” your lips twisted in a hesitant smile, “But I want you, and that’s that” with the free hand, you traced the outline of his jaw.

Running over the stubble on his chin and the fading bruise underneath his ear, light blush spreading over your cheeks at the memory connected to it. It still felt strange sometimes to be this open with him. To speak your mind without fearing rejection or ridicule. To know that the sentiments were reciprocated with equal strength.

“Can we move that to after the battle?” Neil wrapped his arm around your waist, searching your face for clues, “Because now… now I just want to hold you. Kiss you, maybe” the timid whisper tugged at your heartstrings as he ran the pad of his thumb over your lower lip.

A familiar gesture, sparking up the fire and asking for consent. As if he still needed to.

“Maybe?” you arched an eyebrow, latching onto the word if only to make him smile.

Neil grinned, happiness radiating from his gaze as he tipped your chin upwards, syncing up with how you rose on your feet to meet him halfway.

“Certainly,” the murmur laid to rest on your lips.

The slow, gentle kiss, beginning with the tenderest of touches, his lips gliding over yours, carefully igniting the flame. It was as though he wanted to commit it to memory, softly drawing out sighs from your throat with the delicate pecks and ghostly brushes. The texture of his lips getting imprinted on yours, the taste of his kisses becoming a permanent memory. The hints of Earl Grey tinting the tip of his tongue as he finally deepened the kiss, trailing along the outline of your mouth and slipping inside to give you the necessary fix. You tangled your hand in his hair to bring him closer and to feel the strands between your fingers. Running out of air, at last, you withdrew by a millimetre and smiled against his mouth, giving in to the chaste pecks, extending the contact even if for a second. Neil grinned back, his thumb caressing your cheek in soft strokes, eyes showing everything you should need to know. The intimate moment awash with affection, adding meaning to the scene. Holding his gaze, you made sure to return the sentiments with equal strength before you leaned back and took in his lovesick expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll address all of what you said later… Because I’m flattered” Neil broke the silence at last with a glimmer of gratefulness shining through the blue irises.

You grinned, allowing yourself a rare dose of hope for that later. May it come. Sending silent prayer to whatever god could be listening, you brushed away the hair from his eyes before responding:

“Good, because I meant it,” your eyes roaming over his face, admiring the striking features, “You handsome bastard,” the nickname coming out without hesitation.

How very fitting. Your grin only getting brighter when you saw Neil’s double-take, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion once more, only to be replaced with an uncertain head tilt and a thoughtful pause.

“… that sounded way too enticing than it should’ve,” he admitted finally, drawing you closer with his hands on your hips.

Confirming the sentiment, he licked his lips thoroughly with the gaze focused on your mouth. Bingo. Unable to stop the smug smile from spreading on your lips, you suggested an answer to his predicament:

“Maybe that’s just because I said it,” the rare rush of confidence and pride spreading blush on your cheeks.

Once more, you were separated by a breath of space with your lower bodies flush together. That impeccable pull, doing its work as usual as you felt his breath ghost over your lips. Then Neil smiled, confirming the beliefs with a simple statement:

“Yes, that too,” another kiss shutting down the worries and strengthening the feelings.

It only took three more before you continued with the suit up. To prevent distractions, you settled on the opposite side of the cabin, slowly assembling the military outfit, the silence occasionally interrupted with comments. It was once you have adjusted your thigh holster and slipped in the faithful Glock that the reality has once more dawned on you. You were about to head into a battle. An actual, large-scale battle, on the Siberian steppes, armed with nothing but a handgun and rifle. And Neil, both the protector and the protected. Not that it made any sense.

Sighing at the mess of thoughts in your head, you turned back to the man in question, observing him for a moment. He was busy packing the military backpack with the needed supplies, half-dressed in the top layer of the suit. With the hair grown out and the slight stubble on his chin, the outfit gave him the ‘rough mercenary’ look that could not help but quirk your lips in a tiny grin. Luck, and all that. As your gaze fell on the dark green backpack, your eyes got caught by a pendant attached to the zipper. With the curiosity piqued, you crossed the space to see the trinket, asking the question in the process:

“What’s that?” tenderly, you reached out to touch the pendant.

It was a vintage coin from India, attached to the zipper with a red and orange piece of yarn, washed with the years of use. Upon your innocent question, Neil let out a long exhale. Nervous. Perplexed, you glanced at him, immediately noticing the shy smile and hesitant gestures. Running a hand through his hair, he finally strung together a sentence:

“I… uh, that’s something Alex gave me and I- I can take it off if you-” stopping the panicked ramblings, you placed your finger upon his lips.

Idiot. Smiling gently, you let go of the trinket and took Neil’s hand in yours, slowly rubbing out the tension and cherishing the feel of his palm in yours. There were no doubts as towards what you had to tell him in response to something this outrageous.

“Neil, why do you think I’d want you to get rid of that?” you watched as he struggled for an answer, the adorable pinkish tint darkening his cheeks, “I’m glad you had him. And that he was lucky to have you” as his eyes turned glossy, you swallowed the sudden rush of tears and added “I can only hope I’ll be fortunate enough to have you for the rest of however much have we got” the uncertainty creeping in, forcing to add the necessary disclaimer “If you’ll-”

If you’ll want me for that long. But you never got as far as telling that. Neil closed the gap, pulling you close with cheeks wet with tears and eyes full of inexplicable emotions:

“Shut up” he brushed his nose over yours as a prelude before covering your lips with his in a kiss.

A hungrier one this time, a way of returning the feelings you have poured into your words. His teeth grazed over your lower lip in a familiar expression of passion. In response, you could only draw him closer, sighing when the salty tears tinged the contact with boundless weight. Somehow you knew that whatever would happen beyond this moment, the love you had was real. Probably the only genuine feeling you ever had the luck of experiencing. With the realisation fresh on your mind, you could only whimper quietly when Neil broke the kiss at last and pressed another to your forehead. He kept on holding you close as though worried your time was running out. Overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions, you reached out to brush away the evidence of his tears, caressing his face in a dream-like daze. Finally, he broke the silence:

“Never thought I could love someone that much again, but there we are. And you know what?” the happy smile contrasted how his eyes glistened with melancholy, “I like it,” you mirrored the grin, letting the blue of his eyes pull you under “Emotional compromise has never been this tempting” reference to the nightly conversation making you giggle.

A perfect opportunity to lighten up the moment and shake off the premonition shadowing your every gesture and word. Distractedly, you placed your hand over his beating heart, glancing up at him with a playful smirk:

“Does your gob just like… never run out?” Neil’s grin widened, your interference doing its magic, “I’m impressed,” as a confirmation, you patted his shoulder humoredly.

Neil shrugged, the look in his eyes clear: you knew what you’re signing up for. And you did. Frankly, you would not have it any other way. No matter the consequences or the future. Love is merely a madness, after all.

“And I-” when Neil spoke again, you could tell what was coming.

Getting into the temptation (and because you haven’t said it in an hour), you interrupted him with your confession:

“I love you. I know,” a smug smile splitting your face once more upon seeing his reaction.

The eyes widened for a split second, furrowed brow and lips open in a gasp. Before Neil somehow became even more beautiful as the morning light lit up the joyful glimmer in his eyes. The hair caught on the golden fire, giving him the look of an angel that has fallen straight from heaven. And was yours, for some unknown reason. Your affirmation added a spark of confidence to his expression as he thanked you for it with another breathless kiss.

The rest of the dress-up continued in that manner, often interrupted with kissing, hugs, and banter that seemed to wash away the fears. Even if only for the moment. As you adjusted the bulletproof vest and made sure the front pocket was full of the extra magazines, you checked the time. A little too tight, considering you were yet to assemble the oxygen tank and prepare the rifle. Looking up, you met Neil’s attentive gaze as he was shamelessly staring at you. For a second, you could tell that you were both considering never leaving the room and ignoring the reality. Just saying ‘fuck it’ to the universe and abandoning the post for whatever cost to never let this moment end. But it had to. The mirroring mournful smiles on your faces contrasted with the desperate hope you tried to hold on to. Finally, without breaching the gap, you remarked quietly:

“We should move, or else they’ll leave without us” a meaningful look at the window.

Yet without urgency present in your heart. Because you did not want to go. Not at all.

Neil could easily read the sentiment from your face, for he picked up the remaining parts of the equipment and asked:

“Do you think there’ll be bears?” the innocuous question dropped with the needed effect.

A distraction. A way of making the exit easier for you.

“… what?” staring at him with confusion written all over your face, you gaped.

Beloved idiot. He grinned, taking that one step closer to brush away the hair from your eyes with extra care.

“You know, bears, Siberia… Rasputin?” his lopsided smile adding the punch to the ridiculous statement.

And then, just as you were sure the situation would not get stranger, he started humming. Boney M. Rasputin, naturally. You groaned, pondering life decisions. Seduction through talking absolute nonsense and humming Boney M? Sure, why not. Ignoring the urge to facepalm, you let the amusement and bewilderment spill through the glare you gave him. He shrugged in response. Another message easy to understand: your idiot. Taking his hand in yours, you decided to play along:

“I don’t think it’s that sort of Siberia,” you frowned, looking for the correct metaphor, “Think more like… Chernobyl, graphite, and radiation poisoning. Inverted, at that” wincing at the mental image, you squeezed his palm.

The quiet reassurance complementing the silent conversation. All that you did not need to say but knew anyway.

“Inverted Chernobyl?” Neil met your absent gaze with a laugh reflected in the blue irises.

The laughter never felt this important before. Clutching his hand tightly, you collapsed into his arms. A few minutes of delay wouldn’t hurt anyone.

***

If anyone later were to ask you how the briefing looked like or about the specifics of what you did before boarding the container attached to the chinook, you would not know what to tell them. As though in a dream, you attended the meeting led by Wheeler and crafted to fit the needs of the Blue team, registering half of what was said. You had the plan for your unit memorised, and that had to be enough. Rest was up to fate. With the pain resonating through the shoulder and the suffocating anxiety making a home in the pit of your stomach, Neil’s presence right next to you and his hand resting on your thigh mattered more than usually. You had a feeling he knew, shooting you worried looks now and then and focusing intently on Wheeler at the same time. As though he knew that he had to be the strong one. The leader. You could only hope that you would not disappoint him or fuck it up. After all, the fate of the world was a pretty crucial cause to fight for. Even if your world has shrunk to that 1,85m, blue eyes, and dyed blonde hair. Fighting for your future together was good enough, too.

You settled on the bench in the blue container, struggling to find the air to breathe in the cramped space, weighted with the fears and the suit covering every inch of your skin. As the chinook rose and the wind shook the container with force, you strengthened the hold over the helmet resting on your lap and screw your eyes shut. The throbbing sensation in your arm only seemed to get more prominent with every passing minute as though sensing that Stalsk (and whatever awaited there) was getting sooner for you. Trying to keep the mind at bay, you went over the plan once more. The bullet points straightforward enough to be recited like a prayer: upon the landing, exit the container and run towards the epicentre, following Neil; stay out of trouble; enter the dead-drop chamber with 5 minutes to spare (ideally); cover Neil as he deals with the lock; leave and arrive at the drop off zone in time to come back. Simple, right? You glanced at the watch on your wrist. It already felt like ten minutes from the explosion will not be enough. Because what if you were stopped? What if something went wrong, and you will never make it to the lock? What if you mess it up by letting nerves take over everything else? What if something goes wrong?

With the questions multiplying at an alarming speed, you quickly found yourself struggling for breath. The mask and the constant rattling of the packed container were not helping. Shit. A louder gasp was unnoticed by everyone but the man to your right. Neil turned on the bench in a second, scanning your face for the obvious signs. As your wild, panicked gaze met his, he tilted your chin firmly:

“Hey, hey,” the gentle whisper urging you to focus on him only “Look at me” he searched your eyes for something and then asked, “What’s wrong?”

It was that patience and kindness that always got you. No matter the circumstances or the advancement of your relationship, Neil always reacted with the same gentleness. And that was both the reason to love him and to be disappointed by your inability to keep it together.

“Sorry, it’s just nerves… and… fuck, I’m sorry” stumbling over the words, you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, betraying you “You need me, and I’m already fucking it all up by being too weak-” your rant was gathering speed, stopped only by Neil.

“If it wasn’t for the bloody oxygen masks, I’d make you shut up now,” he sighed with exasperation, eyes glancing at your mouth to point out the true meaning of the sentence “Stop it, give me your hand” obediently, you let him entwine your fingers “Actually, I’d be a little worried if you weren’t scared. But we’ll manage because it’s us. And there’s nothing we can’t do” the words spoken with confidence you could only dream of having “Do you trust me?” he asked the question with startling resolve in the blue eyes.

Despite the mess of thoughts, the answer was too easy.

“With my life,” you squeezed his palm for comfort and added, “And heart too, apparently” a sheepish shrug to complete the confession.

But is it still a confession when it’s glaringly evident? Talking with Neil like this with the troops all around and the chinook’s rattle overhead, everything felt surreal. But it did not seem like anyone noticed your ‘heart-to-heart’. Thank fuck.

Neil did not seem to mind, staring at you with that familiar affectionate glimmer in his eyes. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, soothing the anxiety and reasserting his presence.

“I’m glad because I kind of need your heart to pull this off,” he grinned, the sudden tentativeness endearing and distracting you successfully “Because this way I know that it’s all worth fighting for” locking your eyes with his, you somehow knew what was coming “Do you remember the promise?”

Of course. It was not as if you spent many hours thinking about it. And praying that you will never have to break it.

“Yeah, I… I hope it won’t come to that” the careful answer to make sure he would not catch on to your doubts.

And the countless plans you have made in the quiet of your mind. Just in case.

“Me too, but if- If it’s me, or you, I’ll always choose you,” the simple statement made the breath hitch in your throat.

As did the look in his eyes, assuring you that he meant it. Boundless love, pouring out of every glance and expressed through the firm hold over your hand. There was no escaping it.

And I, you. The answer unspoken; whispered only to yourself. And that had to be enough.

***

The moment of quiet did not last long. Soon after your conversation ended, the wind picked up, increasing the shaking of the container. Even without windows, you could tell that you were getting closer. After another violent jolt, Wheeler stood up, holding on tightly to the railing overhead:

“We’re coming in on the shock wave,” her voice rang out loud and clear, “Hold on, people!” with the warning, you strengthened the hold over Neil’s palm and used the other to tighten the seatbelt.

You tensed, body preparing for the impact and everything else that could come after. As though following your instincts, you turned to Neil at the exact moment he glanced at you. Your gazes locked as the chinook flew through the explosion shock wave, eliciting gasps from the troops and increasing the feeling of doom. The only anchor, the blue eyes gazing back at you with love and determination, were a perfect place to wait for the landing. You kept on staring, letting yourself find a piece of hope in his face and knew Neil was doing the same. But the time was already running out.

Two minutes later, the blue container touched the ground with a thud giving you the signal to stand up and prepare for the charge down the ridge. You fastened the helmet and prepared the rifle, ready for the strike. As the doors opened, you got struck with the piercing light outside. The area was covered in the sandy steppe, the ruins of the city littered with crumbled grey buildings and blocks. The blue skies, giving nothing but a contrast to the scene with its startling serenity. As Wheeler gave the Blues signal to begin, you followed the troops, running out of the container and down the steep ridgeway, instantly noticing the hundreds of mercs in your way. Inverted, normal. Everything the hell had to offer. You could see the Reds fighting them off, trying to create a safe passage for the splinter unit. Before it began, one final thought resonating through your head – you never even got to say goodbye to TP. It felt strange. And yet.

You did not have much time to process the realisation as Neil tugged at your hand in a clear signal: C’mon. You followed him down the hill, rifle comfortably placed on your shoulder to allow easy aim if needed. 9:35. The bullets were wheezing past, inverted, and normal. An additional level of chaos was introduced by the crumbled buildings, flying upwards in denial of physics. That’s what the training was for. Focusing on staying alive and relatively unharmed, you swerved between the rocks and walls, eyes open on those that behaved differently. Rounding up the corner of one derelict building, Neil pulled you to crouch as he scouted the horizon for obvious traps. The construction acted as a hideaway, giving you a moment to catch the breath burning your lungs and give the legs a millisecond-long rest. The ringing in your ears seemed permanent as you stared at Neil, awaiting instructions. 8:00. The blue digits on the watch speeding up the pounding heart. After too long a pause, you asked:

“Are we clear?” your voice wavered, showing the anxiety brewing underneath.

“One second” Neil glanced at you before going back to risk assessment.

You tensed, closing your eyes for a split second to ground within the moment. To find clarity in the chaos of the battlefield. A breath in and out. Hand tightening the hold on the rifle. The other was squeezed by Neil. The sign to sober up.

“Go” your eyes shot open as he whispered the command.

Without a second of hesitation, you leapt up, turning around the corner and running straight towards the bunker. You could hear Neil following close, the sounds of your footfall the only noise you allowed in. And then the third one joined. Startled by an explosion nearby, you looked to the right in time to see a merc running in your direction. Inversed, luckily. He was too close to use the rifle, and so you faced him for combat. A kick there. A backhand to weaken the enemy. Adrenaline rushing in your veins as you successfully brought him to his knees. Now it was just the question of pulling the trigger. The shot echoed in the space as he fell on the ground with a thud. It never got too easy. Stifling a heavy sigh, you only managed to turn on your heel when Neil’s yell broke the silence:

“Watch out!” you saw the worry in the blue eyes before the world turned upside down.

In a flash, you heard strange noises coming from the rumble laying all around. There was no time to jump to the side as the stones flew up. A piece of rock hit you in the shoulder as another large boulder made you trip, landing face down on the ground. Fucking physics. The breath knocked out of your lungs as you groaned:

“Fuck,” the curse coming out as you tried to pick yourself back to standing.

The time was still running out. You winced as the pain radiating from the right shoulder increased by a notch.

“Are you alright?” Neil pulled you up with a frown etched onto his face.

No.

“Yeah, let’s go. It’s close now” you offered him an unconvincing smile and looked towards the buildings.

From the distance, it looked like a barrow or a war-time bunker with the top covered with soil and the entrance through a dark tunnel. The main way in was not yours, however. Projecting the mental map of the compound, you searched the terrain for your entryway. Soon, just where you expected it to be, you noticed a metal trapdoor in the ground, partially hidden by the shadow of a crumbled building. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he gently pushed you in the direction without a word. 6:02. On time. Sort of.

The rusted padlock keeping the door shut gave way after a forceful kick. You stood on the lookout as Neil opened the flap with a creak of the old hinges. Making sure no one was on the horizon, you looked over your shoulder to see the progress. It seemed like your way in was a vertical tunnel with ladder steps ending in eerie darkness. And beyond? God knows what. Fantastic. As Neil peered down the hole with a small torchlight, you frowned:

“A dark hole in the ground… brilliant” letting out a small sigh, you met Neil’s eyes as he looked up at you.

A glimmer in the blue irises told you he was up for no good. And you were right.

“… there lived a Hobbit?” Neil completed the quotation in an innocent tone.

Just as if you were not in the middle of the battle with bullets wheezing past and explosions punctuating every heartbeat.

“… Neil, what the actual fuck?” gaping at him, you almost forgot the reality.

For a split second, there was no ticking clock and worry of death waiting around the corner. Only you and Neil, entangled in yet another dialogue of nonsense. As it was supposed to be. You knew he understood, for he squeezed your hand once more before responding:

“Sometimes I ask myself that too,” a perfect punchline to elicit a sharp gust of laughter.

But there was no time. You both checked the horizon one more time before Neil pushed you in the direction of the entrance:

“Go, I’ll follow,” a whisper, giving the necessary support.

No chance of backing out. With a final sigh, you secured the rifle on your shoulder and took the first step down the ladder. The railings were cold and corroded by time and elements, giving that additional spark of anxiety you did not need.

Looking down, you could make out the end, and so, making sure to ignore the aching body and screaming mind, you began the descend without a second of hesitation. There was no time. With only the light from the world above, you soon lost the count and the ability to see, relying only on your instincts not to slip and fall.

After what felt like hours, your feet touched the ground with a shallow thump, resonating through the cavern. The tunnel was lit by a single fluorescent, giving out its swan song underneath the Siberian ruins. As you took a step to the side to let Neil join you, you scanned the surroundings. The dark cave with rusted pipelines lining up the ceiling and the metal crate and railings covering the ground. You exchanged a glance, similar reactions mirrored on your faces. It was easy to feel unwelcomed.

You turned to the right, as the maps indicated, following the tunnel towards the epicentre. With each step, the anxiety rose, manifesting itself through the shaking fingers and shallow breaths. You could feel the inexplicable feeling of dread fill your heart with nothing to blame it on. Until you finally turned the last corner and found yourselves at your destination.

The dead drop chamber had a high dome with the entrance at the top and a cage-like construction underneath, edging a dark cavern. In the poorly lit space, your eyes took a second to adjust and take in the necessary details. Inside the cage, you could see TP and Ives, hunched over a mysterious, steel object, shaped like a coffin. The Algorithm. A shudder ran through your body as you noticed the yellow countdown clock attached to the item. Next to them, there was a body. A man lying flat on his back with a gunshot wound in his head. You immediately recognised the face from the folder given to you long before the mission took off. Volkov, Sator’s right hand. Your blood turned cold as though anticipating something that was yet to happen. The pain in your shoulder has reached the levels of tolerance, increasingly growing to make sure you could not ignore it. Tough luck.

“Neil… something’s wrong,” you whispered, grasping his hand in yours, seeking comfort.

Even though he could not offer anything beyond his presence. You knew that whatever would happen, you had to face it alone.

“I know,” the low murmur bringing you back to the present moment.

As you locked eyes with Neil, you could see the worries confirmed. He was tense as if anticipating the worst yet not knowing when or how it would come. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Ives and TP stare at both of you, seemingly unsure of how they should act or which part to play. The body language, showing nothing but unease and confusion. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he quickly closed the space to the lock and rummaged in the front pocket of his vest for the tools.

“Let’s…” throwing a look at you with the necessary determination.

No time to waste. You nodded, blocking out the pain, if even for a second longer. Job to be done.

“I’ll watch your back,” the assurance he did not need, but you gave anyway.

As Neil began the lockpicking, you positioned yourself sideways, hoping to have a good vantage point to observe the inside of the cage and the tunnel leading to the epicentre. A glance at the watch picked up the heart rate. 03:27. With the muffled sounds of the battle above the cavern, you could hear your heavy breaths filling the silence, sometimes interrupted with backwards gibberish coming from the splinter unit and Neil’s curses. The time was both suspended and was ticking away mercilessly.

Upon a louder sigh, you glanced in his direction. The question died on your tongue as you perceived movement through the bars of the chamber. A gasp pierced the silence as your eyes landed on Volkov raising from the ground. No bullet hole in his head. Fuck. Before you could utter a word, a gunshot resonated through the space. Ives lowered the gun, staring at you with a strange emotion. Neil glanced up, a shaky breath the only sound on the comms.

It was easy to put together the pieces. And make the decision. Ignoring Neil’s startled look, you crossed the remaining gap to the cage. The gate was almost open, needing a few seconds more, at most. And after… It made so much sense. Easy. No need to think or analyse. Shield Neil, keeping your gaze fixed on Volkov. The pulse, pounding in your ears. The backward gibberish, coming from the splinter unit, talking to the henchman. It all did not matter. You awaited that faithful sound of the lock opening. A breath in and out. It would be alright. It would be worth it.

The click came both sooner and later than you expected. A jolt of adrenaline ran through your body, elevating the heart rate, making your reactions fluent. Fear is your companion. As the gate creaked, Neil’s tools clattered to the ground. He looked up at you, questions and worries multiplying in the blue eyes. He didn’t know yet. Taking comfort in the realisation, you smiled at him. For reassurance. I got you.

And then swiftly threw yourself between him and the now open door as the second gunshot echoed in the chamber. A flash of pain ripped through your shoulder; the inverted bullet tore through the tissue before you could perceive it. Of course. Everything made sense now.

Volkov lowered the gun and retracted through the tunnel in the dome. With a strangled yell, you fell onto the ground. Your knees hit the crate as you toppled onto your side. The edges of your vision darkened; your brain overwhelmed with the increasing agony. As though through the glass, you could hear Neil scream your name before he gathered you in his arms. Through the tears, you could see his furrowed brow. The eyes glossy with unshed tears of his own. You wanted to brush them away. To tell him that you are going to be alright. That you love him. But no sound could come out through the tightened throat.

The warm liquid was pooling inside the suit and spilling through the gaping hole. Pain flooded your vision as you fought to keep your eyes open. Through the ascending fog, you could hear Neil’s whispers, begging you to stay with him. To stay awake. Easier said than done.

Slowly, he stood up, cradling you in his arms. Horror and determination etched onto his face. You laced your hands on his neck, following the instincts that played out their roles without your actions.

The tunnel. Please, don’t cry. Bright light, hurting your eyes. Explosions in the distance. The boundless blue cast with fear. I love you. Burning agony radiating through the body. I don’t regret it. Neil’s panicked screams. I’ll do everything for you. The soil underneath your fingertips. You’re my everything. Scarlet hands. Pain.

No sound but the wind.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

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After that gorgeous sequel rant, would you be willing to share your thoughts on reylo?

Ugh.

Once again, that is the most succinct, easiest, answer I can supply. But it's so short, and that just won't do.

I mentioned in a recent post that Dramione comes in a myriad of disguises. Every fandom usually has at least one Dramione ship, you can usually guess which characters the ship will consist of, and while you might not be able to articulate exactly what about it makes it so damn similar to Dramione you will recognize it on sight.

Usually, to me, a Dramione ship features a strong, independent, female lead who may be varying levels of sexually empowered, varying levels of intelligent (Hermione loves to tell us how smart she is but it's not the heart of the ship), is strong, courageous, and noble who depending on the story du jour might slide into depravity. The real give away is her love interest, always a man, usually a young man of comparable age, who has the bad boy appeal that's not too bad boy where he often is redeemed to the good side for 'reasons' in the course of the story.

Reylo is such a Dramione pairing.

You don't believe me? Look at the authors who write it, I haven't done this too often myself, but I guarantee you that a not small majority of them will either write Draco/Hermione or will have it all over their favorites and bookmarks. It's the same damn pairing.

But worse.

Because Kylo-Ren and Rey aren't really characters.

"Whoa, hold up!", you say, "That's just slander and uncalled for!" Well, change my mind. Rey Palpatine and Kylo-Ren are a series of character tropes and archetypes thrown to us by Disney screaming "LOVE MY CHARACTERS".

Rey is our noble, very Luke like, hero who is a scrappy desert rat with overwhelming mystical powers only acknowledged when the movies feel like acknowledging them (guys, admit Rey kicked Kylo-Ren's ass every time they fought with 0 training, come on, it's not hard).

However, there is nothing underneath her surface. Her hero worship of the resistance feels dull and given to her because it's expected. Of course Rey likes the resistance! The resistance is great! Sign her up! Rey has been living in the desert at the edge of nowhere for presumably 15 years, I'm shocked she's even heard of the new republic let alone the resistance. Despite essentially starving and only having a home that's a broken down old fighter, Rey saves a random droid. We're not really given a compelling reason of why she would do this, that she has a deep respect for droids/is horrified by their use, really really really hates the random trader she sells things to, or really really really hates the empire (if she even realizes it's them behind the bounty). She does it just so that a) the plot keeps moving b) to show Rey is... noble... I guess?

Remember that even Luke (who I have some problems with as a character) started his journey with more backstory and personality than this. Luke loved the empire and desperately wanted to become a pilot. He was very put out that his aunt and uncle kept saying, "Uh, no, bad idea." Luke was ready to skip town and sign on up for flight academy, he just got distracted by pretty women, er, his sister.

So, Rey is never given a compelling reason to do any of the things she does in the series. Just vague feelings of hero worship. And, of course, the drama over her parents. Just... I feel like Disney took out a hat, put a bunch of pieces of paper with words on them, and drew out the one that said "orphan angst about parents" and said "See, now she's conflicted! What a character!"

So yeah, Rey is your cardboard generic hero who is so generic she's not even a person. She has no hopes, no dreams, no fears, just these vague things we're told as an audience she cares about but never shown in any legitimate manner. Rey likes the resistance and rando droids, Rey imprints on Han Solo as the father she never had, Rey has this thing about her parents, Rey is attracted to Kylo Ren.

And that last one, oh boy that last one. It sold me less on the attraction to Kylo Ren than... oh... I don't know... Palpatine's secret Sith planet of doom. I mean, we all saw it coming, The Last Jedi it was very clear where that was going and then Abrams went for it even harder. But what we had was a series of skype conversations where Rey went from "Gr, you killed my pseudo father!" and Kylo-Ren responding, "Yeah, well he was my real father AND HE WAS SO MEAN" to "Oh Ben, I will fly to you through space and we shall save the galaxy together!"

I am given no reason to believe Rey's change of heart. Han Solo's death just suddenly... doesn't really mean much to her anymore (the man was murdered by his son in cold blood so that his son could feel better about himself). She believes Ben Solo is good now because Luke is a dick (never mind that, no matter what a dick Luke is, Ben Solo still murdered dozens of children and then went on to gleefully massacre his way through the galaxy). We're told there's a Force Dyad, which is um... not this thing the writer's made up because they were too lazy to convince me that Kylo-Ren and Rey would end up together in any organic way.

So, yeah, why does Rey like Kylo-Ren? Because the Force told her too? Because it was somehow all Snoke's fault in a way that's never properly described? (Indeed despite us spending quite a bit of time on Kylo-Ren's decision to remain Kylo-Ren being a very internalized thing) Because we saw him shirtless in yoga pants this one time?

It's bad when that last is actually the most legitimate reason I can think of out of the whole lot.

Now let's go to Kylo-Ren. If Rey is boring and nonsensical then Kylo-Ren is a dumpster fire and non-sensical. The guy reminds me a lot of Commodus from the film "Gladiator", the man is cowardly, vile, and murders his father in despair that his father never will be capable of loving him/passes him over for the throne. Kylo-Ren's murder of Han Solo is extremely similar to the murder of Marcus Aurelius in "Gladiator". Han Solo is a flawed father, trying to make his peace with his son, who approaches him unarmed and Kylo-Ren decides to murder him in order to solidify his place in the dark side.

Only, the films never acknowledge that every action Kylo-Ren takes is horrifying.

We're told "oh, Kylo-Ren exists because evil Snoke corrupted him" but also shown repeatedly that Kylo-Ren chooses the darkest path again and again and again. He "struggles with the light" but I don't see it. His opening scene, he has massacred a village and is torturing a man for information (this is presumably a daily routine for him). In the same film he later tortures Rey for information. He serves on a Death Star which wipes out billions in an instant. He murders his father to feel good about himself. He dresses as a man who was reviled and feared throughout the galaxy, a man who murdered countless children, and a man who dressed the way he did because he was barely hanging onto life, because Kylo-Ren thinks it makes him look like a badass. Think about it, this is like if a fully abled Kylo-Ren is wheeling around in a wheel chair, perfectly capable of walking, because he thinks that Professor X is so cool. Now, replace Professor X with Hitler, this is what the movies gave us.

Yet, the films seem to take it for granted that Kylo-Ren is a redeemable character. He's just lost and misguided, he's really struggling with the light and dark side! They don't just tell us this over and over again (which they do) but also just assume we know it.

And base the entire Reylo pairing off of it. Reylo believed Kylo-Ren could be redeemed, they battle Snoke together, then Kylo-Ren stabs her in the back and continues the assault on the Resistance and asks her to be his Dark Queen (TM). Reylo is shocked and appalled, I'm just wondering what movie she thought she was watching, because that was coming a mile away.

Later, when Kylo-Ren is redeemed, we're never given a reason why it happens. Leia just gives him a nagging, one word, phone call and then Han Solo shows up to go, "Ben, are you going to do the right thing?" and Ben goes, "Mumble, grumble, fine" because there's only an hour left in the last film.

Kylo-Ren, like Rey, is the writers' desperate attempt to create a compelling anti-hero with all the anti-hero sauce we love. They just won't admit they made an overgrown genocidal toddler.

Wow, this turned into why I hate both Rey and Kylo Ren, but, uh, back to the ship. Basically, the films give me 0 reason to ever believe it, and even if I wanted to, even if I said "Alright brain, let's make these characters real people for once", I still wouldn't like it. Because the ship itself is just as flat as the characters. It's spicy but not too spicy bad boy gets together with strong female lead.

I know a lot of people enjoy this, and I won't say it's any less legitimate than any of the weirdness I ship, but I'm not one of them. And the whole thing just makes me go "ugh".

#ask #anon #anti reylo #anti kylo ren #anti rey #anti star wars sequels

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enthusiasticharry · 4 years

Note

Maybe one were Y/N is a virgin and Harry is her first one but he is so horny that he goes to far or something...

Try Again Later

summary: you're a virgin, and think you're ready to have sex but you quickly learn you're not.

word count: a lil’ 2.6k word blurb of smut and a small little scene that some people may find uncomfortable, so this is your warning. (not proofread again, i'm too tired.)

You weren’t completely sure about how you’d gotten yourself into this position. It was a good position, to say the least, but one that you hadn’t expected but wouldn’t change for the world. It wasn’t as though in the past you’d shy’d away from relationships, because that hadn’t been the case. You just hadn’t met the right person.

Fresh out of university, you certainly hadn’t given any thought to your love life. It was almost as though for the past three years you’d been in a bubble of your university work and not taken any notice of anything around you. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, just different to the people you were friends with.

That was until you met Harry.

It was completely on a whim that you met him, but you couldn’t be more thankful for that whim. You were in one of your favourite bookstores, flicking through the Historical Fiction category to add a little to spice to your quite bland reading habits that you’ve had over the past three years when he mistook you for an employee. You had started talking, and you obviously explained that you thought he was talented and that you liked his music and the rest is history.

It’s hard for you to believe that was only a few months ago.

“Whatcha doing?” You jump out of your skin, placing a hand firmly to your chest to calm the hammering that he had caused.

“Fucking hell, H.” You sigh, “Give a woman a warning. You can’t just sneak up on me like that.”

He wraps his arms around your shoulders in a hug, placing a small kiss to the top of you head, “Where’s the fun in that?”

He laughs as you roll your eyes.

“It’s only fun for you.”

“I know.” He drops a kiss to your neck, “Missed you, that’s all.”

“You saw me this morning.”

“That was hours ago!” He counters back, “Can I not miss my girl?”

He’s always been good at making your heart flutter, “Course you can. Just be a bit louder when you greet me again.”

“Will do.” He presses his teeth into your skin gently, “I think it’s time for you to put this away.”

You try to hide the small smile that flutters onto your lips, “I need to get this project done.”

“I’m sure it can wait.” He starts to trail his hands down your body, “Missed you.”

“I know.” You sigh, “You’ve already told me.”

“Missed you in more ways than one, love.”

Sex was something that you two had spoken about, but not a lot. You weren’t ashamed, or anything, you had no reason to be, but it was just a sensitive topic and Harry understood that. He never did anything to make you uncomfortable, he checked you were okay with everything that you two did. He was amazing.

Going into your relationship with Harry, you knew he wasn’t a virgin. It wasn’t something that you focused on for too long because it could send your mind spiralling and you tried to do that as little as possible.

It hadn’t come up in conversation un til the first night stayed over, which was a month into your relationship. Since you hadn’t been in many, and Harry had been in a few where he admitted that he went too fast and it consequently made it harder, you both decided to take it slow and you were okay with that.

Harry was human though, and he was attracted to you and even though he wouldn’t dar do anything if you weren’t comfortable, you couldn’t blame him for trying.

He was a little shocked when you told him you were a virgin, and you weren’t surprised. What did surprise you, however, was how supportive he was. He asked you questions, made sure you were okay to answer them and you did just that. You explained that you weren’t against relationships, of having sex, but you just hadn’t found the person or really had the want to do it with anyone just yet.

After finding that out, you were scared that he’d ask you to leave. Anyone would be scared of that but he didn’t. He kissed you like he hadn’t before and you cuddled and watched films until you fell asleep.

You slept over more after that, and you started noticing small things that he’d do that you didn’t know if you found flattering or confusing. You’d sometimes wake up, and you’d feel something resting upon your behind. It, of course, sparked a curiosity in you but before you could say or do anything about it, he was kissing your cheek and getting out of bad and to the bathroom.

This continued for a couple of weeks, or so, until you finally grew the balls and said that even though you didn’t think you were quite ready for sex, you were open to doing other things.

You had no idea what you’d been missing.

In the past, there had been many occasions where you’ve felt a little stressed and needed to relieve yourself. That was nothing compared to the way Harry’s fingers and tongue made you feel. It was almost as though you became addicted to his touch, and he certainly didn’t mind.

He helped you navigate your way through pleasuring him. One of the things you were most nervous about was the fact that you had no idea how to pleasure a man properly apart from what you watched in porn and on TV. Harry had no problem teaching you how to make him feel good and you eventually ended up being a pro, if you do say so yourself. Harry certainly had no complaints.

He was happy. You were happy. Everything was content within your relationship. He knew that at this point, that was all you were comfortable in doing and he wasn’t going to force you to do anything you didn’t wan to do. That didn’t mean that he didn’t think about what it would be like, feeling you around him. It was an orgasmic thought in itself.

It’s hit a point where you’re also curious. In your mind, you think you’re ready. You hadn’t spent every second of every day thinking about it, obviously, but the few times you had thought about it, it wasn’t as nerve wracking to you as you had found it. There was still a part of you that had worries and fears but you knew that Harry would do everything in his power to make sure that wasn’t the case.

You were ready, or at least you thought you were.

“This morning wasn’t enough?” Your tone is teasing, his lips parting in shock as you swivel around in your chair so that you’re facing him.

“This morning was plenty enough.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to your cheek, “I’d love to wake up with that every morning.”

This morning, for some reason, you had a sudden splurge of confidence and after feeling Harry rutting his hips into your behind in his sleep, you decided to wake him up in a way he was certain to enjoy.

He certainly enjoyed waking up to your lips around his cock, his eyes fluttering open to watch you rhythmically bounce your head up and down upon him. He felt as though he was in heaven, and he words couldn’t describe how he felt.

“In your dreams, H.”

“You are my dream.”

“Always the charmer.” You giggle as he drops down upon his knees in front of you.

He smirks, “You fell pretty quickly for my charm.”

“Not just your charm.” You counter, “You have a pretty nice ass as well.”

“Always knew you were a bum girl.”

“What can I say?” You shrug, “It’s perfect and so plump. Like a peach.”

You knew exactly where this was going. If it hadn’t been obvious before, the feeling of his hands dancing up and down your clothed thighs certainly made it obvious.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, letting his hand mess with the drawstring of your jogging bottoms.

You hum, watching as his fingers undo the bow and hook into the waistband. You lift you hips up, making it easier for him to pull the material down your legs. It hadn’t occurred to you that this would be happening today, so you hadn’t really dressed for the occasion but that didn’t matter.

“Watermelons?” You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips at his reaction to your underwear, ones that you had bought on a whim, “Nice touch.”

“Thought you might like them.” You bite your lip.

“I love them.”

He kisses your knee, starting there and working his way up the inside of your thighs, spreading your legs open as he does so. It was slow, sweet and sensual but also had you withering in your seat. You started to breath quicker, the feeling overwhelming your senses all of a sudden.

You jump slightly at the feeling of a kiss to your clothed clit, the throbbing between your legs intensifying by the second.

“Soaked for me poppet.” He starts to run his finger up and down your centre, feeling your arousal that had started to soak through the think material of your underwear, “Got yourself in a little bit of a mess.”

“S’your fault.” Your back arches off the seat as he presses a kiss to the top of your pubic bone, “Fuck, H, stop teasing.”

“Why?” He pouts, looking up at you from in-between your legs, a sight that you want imprinted on your brain forever, “I quite like teasing you.”

“Prepare to be teased later then.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Make me come.” You sigh, “Then I might reconsider.”

“Your wish is my command, Darling.”

He presses a small peck to your clit, teasing you before he wraps his lips fully around your sensitive nub. The pressure of his lips, mixed with his tongue lapping and flicking at a quick speed you’re putty in his hands. He knows the exact pressure, the exact speed to have your toes curling and erotic sounds leaving your mouth.

“H.” You drop your hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, doing a mixture of pushing him further into your core and tugging his hair, “Faster.”

You whimper at the sudden coolness, “What?”

“Faster.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head to the side, “You want it faster.”

Letting out a groan, you push his head back down towards your heat. He laughs and flicks his tongue, up and down before sucking gently with his lips. You soon feel his finger dancing up and down your slit, collecting wetness that laid there before pushing his finger in, just the one for now.

“Harry.” Your fingers dig into the arm of your chair, “Another. I want another.”

Your wish is his command. He pushes a second finger in, and uses his free hand to push your stomach down so you stop moving your hips.

You’re unsure whether its the pleasure you’re feeling, or the way you feel for man between your legs but your muttering the words before your brain can catch up.

“I want you.”

His movements stop, his eyes lifting to look at you.

“Wot?”

You swallow briefly, “I want you.”

“Like now? Do you want me to do something else? How to do you want me?”

“H.” You rest your hand on his cheek, “I want all of you. I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” He furrows his eyebrows, “If I’ve pressured you in any way, you don’t have to do anything.”

“Harry.” You smile, “I’m ready.”

“Fuck. Okay.”

You squeal as he wraps his arms around your thighs, picking you up and walking you towards your bedroom. He captures your lips, and you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongues. He drops you upon the bed and removes his shirt, exposing his tattooed torso to you.

You pull your shirt over your head, your nipples immediately pebbling at the cool air and the nerves that bubbled in the pit of your stomach since you hadn’t worn a bra. It was started to become hard for you to differentiate from your arousal or nerves.

“You sure about this?” You watch as he unzips his trousers, discarding himself of the fabric and the restraints of his boxers.

“Positive.” You swallow, flicking your eyes from his throbbing member, stood proud at the end of his happy trail and his face.

His eyes flicker over yours once more and you smile, offering him a small nod of reassurance. You did want this, with him of all people.

You watch in shock as he walks over to the bedside cabinet at his side of your bed, reaching into the drawers and pulling out a condom.

“Were you expecting this to happen or something?”

“No!” He’s quick to respond as he opens the packet, “I just wanted to be prepared.”

“I’m only teasing, bub.”

You don’t watch him as he puts the condom on, instead you lay back on the bed and look at the ceiling. You try to contain your breathing as he does so, focusing on the fact that Harry was going to do anything in his power to make you feel comfortable.

“Are you 100% sure?”

“Yes Harry.”

“Okay.” He hovers over you, “I’ll go slowly.”

He does, for the beginning. He watches the discomfort on your face as he pushes in, inch by inch. That is until all he can feel is you squeezing around him, tight and warm. He tries to be slow, and wait but once you nod your head, he can’t help but thrust his hips back and forward hard.

You were uncomfortable. It hurt, not as much as you thought it would, but it did. Harry was enjoying himself, and you could see the pleasure laced over his featured but you weren’t. You had a sudden urge to cry, which you didn’t think was normal but you closed your eyes to mask it.

“Fucking hell, love.”

You bite your lip to suppress a sob and that when you push his body away, uttering a, “Stop!”

Harry’s face drops, a look of concern over his features as he looks at you. He almost cries out himself when you reach for the duvet to pull over your body.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You manage to not let out any tears, which your thankful for, and you shake your head.

“I’m sorry, H.” You shake your head again, “I don’t think I’m ready still.”

“Hey.” He drops down next to you, reaching over to take your hand in his, “It’s okay, yeah? It was probably my fault.”

“It wasn’t!”

“It was.” He admits, “I went too far, and I didn’t check on you. I’m sorry, baby.”

“H.” You touch his cheek, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine for being a pussy who’s too scared to get dicked down by her boyfriend.”

“You’re not a pussy.” He shakes his head, “There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s no pressure to do anything, okay?”

You lean forward and peck his lips, “I know.”

“I love you, YN.” He smiles, “I would never want to do anything that would upset or hurt you. I’d hate myself.”

“I love you too.” You beam.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, “And you didn’t do anything to hurt me, I swear.”

“Good. That’s good.” He drops his head to your shoulder, “We’ll just have to try again later.”

“Try again later.”

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles drabble #harry styles smut #virgin!reader

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gureishi · 3 years

Note

A #14 with Saeyoung. I love your fics ❤️ Thank you

Thank YOU, dear! ♡

Writing this one was cathartic af. I don’t often write them fighting, because I don’t think they fight much—but the prompt was begging for it and I think a lot about the unexpected ways they find themselves grappling with their trauma.

fourteen: hurts like hell to be torn apart

SaeyoungXReader, T (referenced violence, angst with a happy ending), words: 2912

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Bang.

The sound reverberates off the cobblestones and the colorful storefronts. It’s as loud and dark as the street is cheerful and bright. You feel it in your bones.

And for some reason that you have neither the time nor the emotional capacity to explain, you take off running. Away from the blue-and-white awnings of the little farmers market. Around a corner. Down the alley. Toward the sound.

I know someone’s been shot, says your brain, and you don’t notice the general absence of panic in the crowd—don’t register that no one is yelling, no one else is running. Your sandals slap against the pavement, hard. Your blood rushes in your ears and your heart is in your mouth.

I have to find them, or else… Your vision blurs, your thoughts scramble. Or else.

You’re halfway down the alley, running straight into the setting sun, and you still can’t make out what’s happening at the end of the narrow, dark, trash can-lined street. You squint, expecting at any moment to see a body on the ground, blood pooling on the uneven concrete…

…and your line of sight is cut off as you run face-first into something firm and warm. Someone. You let out a muffled cry and try to pull away, but there are hands gripping your arms and you find you can’t move.

“What do you think you’re doing?” hisses a familiar voice, and although his scent hits you then, and you know you should feel safe, you continue to struggle—hands balled into fists, striking his chest.

“Let me go!” you yell, raising a hand to shove him. His long fingers wrap around your fist. “I have to…” you gasp.

“Nope,” he says. He wraps his strong arms around you and you give in, slumping against him. There’s literally no way out now—you know him too well. How did he catch up to you, how did he cut you off…? He’s not even out of breath.

“Saeyoung…”

“Look.” He’s still got you in his firm grip, but he lifts one arm so you can see through the triangle it makes with his torso. Now that you’ve stopped your insane sprint, you can see more clearly. The end of the alley is…empty.

Your throat feels raw. You realize that at some point you’ve started to cry.

“It was a car backfiring,” he says stiffly.

“A car…”

Rationally, you understand: why the sound was too quiet, why nobody else took off running. Why there’s no body slowly growing cold at the end of the alley. But you can’t quite think rationally. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like you might throw up.

Saeyoung spins you around and half-drags you down the alley, back the way you came. You know you should feel relieved—comforted by his arm around you, thrilled that your instincts were wrong. But his grip on your shoulder is bruising and you feel yourself wriggling, trying to turn around, trying to check the imagined crime scene just one more time.

You turn a corner, back to the shopping center. Here, nothing has changed. There’s the same group of kids in brightly-colored outfits lounging on the steps to the ice cream place. There’s the same harried-looking mother struggling to get her three toddlers in a stroller. There are couples walking hand-in-hand and friends calling to each other over the crowd.

Why, you think, a bitter taste in your mouth, was I the only one who ran?

The dissonance between the cheery atmosphere and the way you are feeling makes your head spin. You sneak a glance at Saeyoung’s face—he has a frozen expression, unmoving, like a statue. His grip on your arm is growing painful.

“Saeyoung,” you say, forcing your voice into a semblance of evenness. “Will you please let go of me now?”

He jumps almost as if he’s forgotten where he is. He drops his arm and it swings aimlessly at his side. He’s not looking at you.

“Let’s go home,” he says at last, and his voice takes you by surprise. His expression is carefully arranged, stoic, but he sounds like he’s ready to hit someone. He takes off walking—away from the pleasant shopping center, down a quieter street, toward the garage. You don’t follow.

He feels your absence, pauses, turns. The sinking sun sets his hair ablaze. Beautiful, you think—if not for the hard look on his face.

He looks, to you, like he’s powering down, turning himself off. There’s no light in his eyes. On some deeply-buried logical level you know that he’s feeling the same echoes of the past that you are, riding the same wave of terror and remembrance. But you feel anger bubbling under your skin and you want to shake him and scream don’t look at me like that in his face.

He spins around and stalks toward the garage. You follow him in silence. Through the entrance. Up the stairs. He picks up the pace and, stubbornly, you slow yours.

He’s unlocked the car, opened your door, and gone around to his own side before you’ve caught up to him. You can’t explain why—just as you couldn’t explain the irrational bolt of horror that struck you when you turned and ran down the alley—but you feel like you could strangle him.

Still in silence, he starts the engine. You can’t stand it anymore.

“So,” you say. Your legs are shaking. “Are you not speaking to me?”

He pulls out of the parking spot. Your head is pounding. Answer me.

He pays at the automated meter. Inches the car down the driveway. Then, finally: “Don’t be so childish,” he says.

Something snaps inside of you.

“Childish? From the man who’s giving me the silent treatment?” You clench your fists, leaving little half-moon imprints in your palms. You look at him sideways; no reaction registers on his face. “Would you mind at least telling me why you’ve decided you’re not talking to me anymore?”

“You don’t—” For the first time, you see anger flash across his face; it disappears as quickly as it came. The car speeds up a tiny bit; he corrects it instantly. “You don’t know why I’m mad at you?”

You feel yourself crumbling—a chain reaction that began when you heard the not-gunshot moving on to its inevitable conclusion.

“If you’d tell me, I bet I’d know,” you snap.

He exhales slowly, as if willing himself to be patient enough to deal with you. You want to wipe that expressionless mask off his face.

“Why did you take off like that?” he asks. His face remains impervious but the anger is in his voice and it scares you a little.

“I thought it was a gunshot,” you say. “Obviously.”

“So did I,” he growls. “Which is why I’m asking you why you ran toward it.”

His words are like a slap in the face and, stubbornly, desperately, you want to hurt him back.

“You’re being condescending,” you say. Your voice shakes, giving you away. “I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act like one!” Every word is like an icicle to your heart. “It was stupid. Do not ever do something like that again.”

It’s too much for you—the reprimanding tone, the fear you still feel in your bones, the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. You feel tears coming again and you hate yourself for it.

“Don’t speak to me like that!” you say, and it comes out every bit as harsh as you’d intended. He flinches.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says through clenched teeth. “I need to make it clear to you just how—how dangerous and idiotic—”

“So whenever there’s something dangerous—and there will be again, because this is our lives—I’m meant to, what? Let you take care of it and hope for the best?” You feel hysterical. Your throat is raw.

“Yes!” he yells, and it’s your turn to recoil, shrinking into your seat. “That is. Quite literally. What I was trained to do.” He’s tried to lower his voice but the quiet derision is somehow worse than when he shouted.

“You don’t trust me. At all,” you say. There are the tears again. You turn to hide your face, wiping them furiously from your eyes.

“No, I don’t,” he says. “Acting like you did today just proves to me that I shouldn’t.”

Your insides are caving in. You want to grab him by his stupid hoodie strings and make him look into your eyes and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

Your head turned, your forehead pressed against the cool glass, you spot a familiar exit. You pounce on a different instinct—because it’s there, because it’s easy, because you know it will would him.

“Take the exit,” you command. You’re shocked by how cold your voice is. How mean you sound.

“What?”

“Saeyoung, take the exit. Right now.”

He does.

He drives in silence, slowing the car to a stop at a red light. You peek at him. There’s realization in his dark golden eyes—and hurt, too. Good.

“This is the way to Jaehee’s house,” he says. He sounds numb.

“Yes,” you say. “Take me there.”

“But…but we should go home,” he says quietly, and in that moment you feel so angry you want to laugh at the vulnerability in his voice. It’s so easy to hurt him. You can still feel the hot lava anger bubbling under your skin, can still hear the way his voice sounded as he told you he didn’t trust you.

“I don’t want to go home with you,” you say.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

Jaehee opens the door, takes one look at your face, and ushers you inside without a word. You can’t help it—you turn as she closes the door behind you to watch Saeyoung’s headlights slowly pulling away. He’d waited till you were inside.

Right. Because I can’t be trusted on my own.

Jaehee doesn’t pry, and you love this about her. She ushers you into her warm, familiar living room. She gives you a blanket. She offers to make you a coffee.

It’s late, but you say yes anyway.

It’s only once she’s brought you a mug filled to the brim with foam and dusted with cinnamon that she folds herself onto the couch beside you and fixes you with a knowing look.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

And you have been—fine as you stormed out of the car without saying goodbye, calm as you watched him drive away, steady as you sat alone on Jaehee’s small-yet-squishy couch. But now that she’s asked it all crashes down around you and you burst into tears.

Wordlessly, she opens her arms for you—a bit awkwardly—and you slip into them, burying your face in her chest.

“We never fight,” you sob, knowing you’re soaking her sweater. She runs a soft, small hand over your back—stiffly, like she’s not used to it, but gently, like she wants to be. “We never…and I don’t even know—w-why…”

Jaehee hums soothingly. She takes a deep breath and you follow her lead, choking a little on your own tears.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” she asks softly. She adjusts you, tucking your head against her shoulder. “It might help.”

You sniffle. In this warm, comfortable room, with this warm, comfortable person, suddenly your actions feel so irrational. Why did you run toward what you assumed was a gunshot? Why did you respond to his concern for you with such unbridled rage?

You tell Jaehee about it—the sound, the alley, the way his face looked when he caught up to you. The things he said in the car. The things you said.

She listens patiently, steady as ever. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I’m not entirely surprised to hear that you had that kind of reaction,” she says when you’ve run out of words and are sniffling into her neck. “You’ve been through quite a lot.”

“What, today?” You wriggle into a sitting position. She hands you a tissue box and your coffee.

“Certainly today, but I was actually referring to the past year.”

Oh.

You blow your nose. Take a sip of the coffee. It’s delicious.

“You’re saying I freaked out like that because of, um. Because of what happened at Mint Eye?”

Jaehee looks down at her hands in her lap. “Obviously, I don’t know everything that happened,” she says carefully. “But I can imagine that what you witnessed isn’t something you’ll get over easily. It will take a lot more time.”

When she says it like this, it feels obvious. You can still feel it ringing in your eardrums: the gun, the shouting. The sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Yeah,” you say. Your hands are shaking again.

“Saeyoung should know this,” she says. She places a hand over yours; it stills them.

“He does,” you say. “But he has his own—things—to deal with. From that day, and also before.”

“Yes.” She pats your hands once and then rises. With your eyes, you follow as she goes to the entryway, retrieves your bag from where you dropped it. Pulls out your phone from the outer pocket. “As I suspected.”

She hands you the phone. The screen’s lit up—you’ve just missed a call. Several calls.

“I’m going to make more coffee,” she says, slipping politely toward her kitchen—out of earshot. Your cup is still almost full.

You hesitate for a moment—just a moment—looking at the rows of his name on your screen. The shape of it makes your skin tingle.

You call him back.

“Hello?” He picks up after a quarter of a ring. He sounds breathless. You wonder if he’s made it home already.

“Hi,” you say.

“You called me back.” He’s talking quietly. His throat sounds raw. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Of course I did.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you can hear him breathing—hard, ragged.

“I’m so, so, so, so sorry,” he says, and you can tell that he’s been crying too, in the way his voice catches at the end of each word.

“Saeyoung, I—”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I should never have spoken to you that way. It’s no excuse, but I was just so scared when you ran from me, I—I panicked, but I didn’t mean to…I never meant to—”

“I know.” He shuts up right away. He sounds miserable. You want to stroke his pretty head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s okay. I did deserve it.” His voice is small and suddenly you want to be home, want to kiss his silly, perfect face and squeeze him till the sob is gone from his voice.

“You didn’t,” you say. “You were scared. I can understand that.”

“I was terrified,” he says. “I thought the same you did—you know, that it was a gun, and so I went to get in front of you, but you’d already taken off running toward it. I just—it felt like my soul was getting ripped from my body. I haven’t felt like that since…since—”

“Me neither,” you say. “I mean, me too.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to run toward a gunshot,” he says, and he laughs a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re supposed to be somewhere safe and warm where nothing can hurt you. I can’t—if anything happened to you, I’d—”

“Me too,” you repeat. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

It’s quiet. You breathe together. In, out.

“I love that you want to protect me,” you say. “But I need you to trust me, too.” He hesitates, and you know that a part of him wants to say so don’t put yourself in danger. Once, he would have. He’s grown up so much since then.

“I do trust you,” he says. His voice breaks. “I didn’t mean what I—I promise I’ll try to—you’re my whole world,” he finishes. Desperately, miserably. Hopefully.

“I want to come home,” you say.

“You do?” The optimism rushes into his voice and you want to bathe in it.

“Please.” You smile and taste your own salty tears at the corners of your lips.

The doorbell rings.

No way.

“No way,” you say into the phone. You cross the room, tug the door open. “No way,” you say to his face. His arms hang at his sides and his eyes are wide and bright as if he’s still not sure if you’ll slam the door in his face.

“I only drove like a block away…” he mutters, trailing off nervously. Sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Should’ve known.” You throw yourself at him and he tears his hands out of his pockets in time to catch you, a surprised laugh bubbling in his throat as you catapult into his chest.

“So you missed me even though I’m a sad, miserable excuse for a boyfriend?” he says into your hair. You stand on tiptoe and kiss his face till his eyes are glazed over and the goofy grin is back on his face. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, dummy.” You kiss his throat and he shivers. “Take me home.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Friends! Let me know if you’d like to be added to this list so you’re tagged in my future mysme writings~ <3

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mysme #request #gureishi writes requests #marilu100399 #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoung x reader #707 x reader #is this loosely based on a fight I once had with my real-life partner #hmm #who can say

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artemis-verse · 3 years

Text

i miss you, i’m sorry

summary: A low mumble, “I’m sick of this.” His hushed confession goes unheard by her yet she pretends she didn’t catch on that for the sake of her broken heart crumbling from his words. note: features time skip! oikawa. spoilers about oikawa’s future career though. some scenes included flashbacks. all characters in present timeline is 21+. fem! reader. she/her pronouns.

song: i miss you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams word count: 1,254 words warnings: swearing, toxic relationship genre: angst arthie’s note: was suppose to publish this yesterday on sunday but i didn’t have any wifi hence the delay :(( anyways this fic is dedicated to flo flo!! it was her birthday yesterday and i purposely wanted to post this fic on her birthday but my wifi says no :< anyways, sorry if it’s not that great, i’ve been running on little to no sleep lately and my brain is fried ;-; hope yall still enjoy it nevertheless (´ ∀ ` *) ↳ main masterlist ↳ minor series masterlist ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ His roaring laughter imprinted in her mind, the way wrinkles formed around his mouth when he smiles or how soft his tousled hair was. “I can’t do this anymore.” Those words echoed loudly, clear and direct as if he’s standing right in front of her, watching her with disinterest. A low mumble, “I’m sick of this.” His hushed confession goes unheard by her yet she pretends she didn’t catch on that for the sake of her broken heart crumbling from his words. During that day, he left her all alone as she sinks down to the floor, sobbing while her chest twisted in agony.

She had only found out through Kunimi that Oikawa had left Japan and went to start a new life in Argentina. Guess I really meant nothing to him, huh? Didn’t even bother to tell me he was leaving either.. She thought to herself bitterly, walking down the sidewalk. An enthusiastic cheer startled her out of her thoughts, glancing at the source of acclamation, she noticed a child clapping her hands joyfully as the mom stares at the pastries displayed behind the glass window. “Which one do you want?” The mother asked her gleeful child who looked up with glints of jovial. “I want the milk bread!” Letting out a chuckle, the mother clutched her child’s hand and entered the bakery together. Without even realizing, her feet had carried her all the way to stare at the baked goods. A sense of nostalgia flows with the wind, his voice rings in the back of her mind. “Y/n-chan~ please just let me feed you this milk bread!” He pouted, blinking innocently. She rolled her eyes, “Fine. Don’t feed me too much, Tooru.” His face breaks into a grin and he happily tears off the bread, making a “aaaah ~” sound as he opens his mouth, trying to get her to do the same. Imitating him, she chews on the fluffy milky bread that dissolved into her mouth after a few chews. Savouring on the taste, she hummed as a sign of approval, “Not bad.” He grinned even wider, “Right?! I love milk bread so much ~ I’m so happy that Y/n-chan likes it too!” He exclaims, popping in the bread into his mouth with a delighted face. She only shook her head and drank her water when he said, “I’ll make sure to feed you lots of milk bread till you love it as much as me! I’ll do it forever if I have to ~” Snorting at that statement, she stared at him back, “What do you mean forever? Are you gonna be by my side all the time?” She teased, adoring the way his ears turned red. “Of course! I’m gonna be with you forever! You’re not ever getting rid of me, Y/n-chan. I’ll be by your side all the time ~” He remarked, smiling as her face flushed from the declaration. “Lady, please move!” A voice pulled her out of her reverie as she swiftly dodges the bicycle approaching her way. A sigh escapes her lips, glancing at the milk bread displayed once again as she walks away from the haunting memories of him that is bound to clog up her brain. Entering the empty apartment, lingering presence of his past hides behind these walls. Trudging to the couch, she plopped down, observing the dull living room with a bitter feeling. Closing her eyes, she can hear the faint screams circling in her mind, reigniting the relationship she once had with him. A miserable feeling yet she still cling onto him as if he was her saviour. “I told you to leave me alone!” He roared as the glass shattered across the floor, fury distinct in his chocolate eyes. Swallowing the fear away, she bent her head down in shame, only nodding and hastily grabs her belongings to flee out of his house. Slamming the door shut, she ran away as fast as she could, letting the tears stream down her cheeks as his yells echoed clear and loudly in her head. The disappointment that flashed throughout his face will haunt her for years. Beep! Beep! The notification snapped her back to reality, lazily clutching onto the device, she checked the incoming messages. Unknown: i miss you Frowning at the sudden proclamation, she examined the digits, a foreign number..? A realization struck her as she concluded on who’s the mysterious sender is. Biting her lip down harshly, she threw the phone onto the wall, frustrated against his mind games. She feels hopeless and agitated yet a part of her still loves him no matter how bad the relationship got. ⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆ On the 16th of December, she coincidentally bumped into a tall stranger, “Sorry.” She muttered out an apology, quickly helping him pick the books that he was holding. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He replies, gazing up at her as her eyes become wide. “Tooru...” The man froze on the spot, gawking at her with disbelief. Her eyes darted across his face, noticing how his hair was no longer kept long instead he opted to cut it short and how he had gained a few pounds compared to the lanky figure he used to sported back in school. He blinked rapidly as if he could not believe she was standing in front of him, “Y/n-chan... what are you doing here?” “Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that?” She scoffed, not bothering to hid the venom rooted inside her voice. “Seriously? I had to find out through your junior that you had moved miles away to fucking Argentina and you didn’t even dare to spoke a word to me?!” She spat, enraged upon all of the silence between them ever since they part ways. He only looked at her with a blank expression, merely reacted to her outburst. “I don’t owe you anything. We broke up remember?” Ignoring the twisting agony inside her chest, she nodded her head in understanding. “I remember vividly actually. Surprised you still acknowledge my existence though. All of that doesn’t matter anymore, after all, I’m just a toy to you aren’t I?” The revelation gleamed in those hazel eyes, staring wide open at his ex-lover. Before he could even utter out a word, she shook her head. “I don’t want your explanation nor your closure. Just.. please— don’t ever come back again.” Turning her back on him, she waited for his reply. “Okay.” Was all that he said, it’s foolish of her to even think that he would mutter out reassuring words and beg for her to stay yet she knew deep down that the words she longed for has dissipated, just like the love they once had. ⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆ A year has passed by and not a single moment where a reminder of him pops inside her head. It seemed as if everything will always lead her back to him, no matter how painful it is. On the bright enormous screen, she can clearly see Oikawa in his uniform, a serious, focused expression as he sets the ball to his teammate. She ignores the stinging sensation that she feels, accepting their fate. She had come to terms at the fact that they were never soulmates— never meant for each other. Even if she wants him so desperately or how much he actually craves her affection, they’ll always end up feeling miserable and numb. Taking a final look at the man she used to love, she smiled sadly, I miss you, I’m sorry.

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selenaurrr · 4 years

Text

Rules Are Made To Be Broken

PAIRING: Matt Casey x Reader

WARNING(S): Smut (18+), Domination, Submission & Intensity

—

They spent the long drive home largely in silence. She rested her hand on his thigh, occasionally squeezing gently, imploring him to look over at her. Instead, he kept his calm blue eyes fixated on the road, his expression unchanging. She wanted to plead with him, kiss his chin and cheek and apologize profusely until he took her in her arms and hugged her close. She knew this was not an option, however. All she could do now to mitigate her fate was to respect his request for her to keep quiet until they got home.

She never took her eyes off him, however, her free hand clenching and unclenching nervously. Her anxiety gnawed away at her insides, almost making her skin crawl. At the same time, however, there was the smallest part of her that was curious, almost hopeful, as to what was in store.

From the moment it happened, she knew she had gone too far. She looked to him instantly, watching his smile drop from his face, and seeing the stern look appear in his eyes. In truth, she was mortified, never wanting to go against him or disobey his requests. It had been a simple one. They were attending a friend’s engagement party - a formal affair, by all counts. They were both dressed accordingly - she in a black dress, a touch tighter than may be appropriate, and black heels to match, and him in a dark suit and tie.

All he had asked of her was to remain respectful - no drunken incidents. She had been careful to watch how much she drank, but as the night went on, her count started to slip away from her. Had she had three drinks already, or was it four? She attempted to remain graceful and respectful in accordance with his wishes, though the alcohol was clearly having an effect on her. And then, it happened.

They stood around in a circle, her by his side, leaning affectionately against his arm. He was telling a story to the gathered group - ever the center of attention, he was. He reached the climax of his story, and even though she had heard it before, she was overcome with a fit of tipsy laughter. She laughed and laughed, and found herself growing dizzy. Suddenly, she lost her grip on him and stumbled sideways, crashing into a passing waiter and knocking a tray of drinks from his hand and onto the floor. The resultant crash drew every eye to her - to them - and she knew instantly that this meant trouble. Ever the gentleman, however, he leaned down and lifted her to his feet, barely masking the stern glare he was giving her. His mask disappeared for a moment, however, and was replaced with the sweet, caring face she adored, as he checked her over to make sure she was okay.

“Didn’t hurt your head did you, baby? You’re alright. Up we go.” He quickly whisked her from the building, making sure to apologize on her behalf to the hosts and bid them farewell. They strode in silence towards the car, her head still spinning both from the alcohol and the fall. Despite the sullen look on his face, he still held her close when he felt her shiver, his arm pulling her against his chest.

They reached the car, and he led her to the passenger side. Stepping in alongside her, he buckled her seat belt, turned to her, and exhaled slowly.

“One thing. I only asked for one thing tonight,” He breathed in a dejected tone. He let the silence hang in the air for a few minutes, until she finally worked up the nerve to protest.

“But I -”

“I don’t want to hear it. You promised me you wouldn’t drink too much. You promised me you wouldn’t cause a scene. You know what happens when you break a promise, missy.” With that last sentence, his eyes rose to meet her, and mixed with that stern, reproachful face was a tiny flash of something else. Excitement? Desire? She thought, she could not be sure. Her attentions were focused solely on listening closely to each word he said. She carefully considered her response, and begun.

“I’m sorry about what happen tonight.” To match him, she met his eyes on the last sentence, and her somber demeanor cracked for just a moment, letting through her eager side just a touch. He offered a half-smile, not yet willing to break his stern expression.

“Let’s just get home.”

She stepped out of the car and into the night air, the fear in her stomach now giving way to a kind of nervous anticipation. His silence and the long drive home had sobered her up, and when he offered his arm to walk her to the door she accepted, not because she needed it, but because she liked the feel of his toned arms underneath the fabric of his suit. She shivered again as a cool breeze blew past her bare legs, and begun to grow eager to get inside.

For more reasons than one, maybe? She though to herself, and smiled inwardly.

As she crossed the threshold, she felt his hand on her shoulder, gripping firmly as he closed the door behind them. Even though he stood a pace behind her, she was acutely aware of the fact that he was guiding her, leading her to where he wanted her to go. A lump grew in her throat as they paced slowly towards the couch. He removed his hand from her shoulder, and seated himself in front of her. She shifted her gaze to his face, and she saw it. That casual half-smile that denoted the fact that he was in his ‘Dom’ mood. She knew now that everything he said was of critical importance - every request he made was a demand, and she must follow it precisely and quickly.

“Shoes off. Place them by the doorway. Your panties, too.”

His voice was calm and even, and there was not a hint of malice or anger to it. All the same, she moved quickly to the doorway and removed her heels. Turning to him, she hiked her dress around her waist and hooked her thumbs in the side of her underwear - a lacy black, almost see though pair, that she was hoping he’d be pleasantly surprised to see tonight. Instead, he just watched impassively as she lowered them to the ground and placed them atop her shoes. She began to lower her skirt when he interrupted, his voice cutting through the silence in the room like a knife.

“Leave it where it is. Stand by my side.”

Her pulse quickened, and her mind began to race. She was keenly aware that her lower body was bare and exposed to him, and she began to grow nervous about what he had planned. All the same, she felt herself slowly stepping forward until she stood against his legs, her dress now folded up against her waist. She felt his eyes travel up the length of her long, slender legs, taking in every inch of her skin, every goosebump raised from the intensity of his gaze. His eyes traveled further until they met hers, and that same mischievous glint was present in his stare. Nonetheless, he kept the stern, commanding edge to his voice.

“Lay down on my stomach, over my lap. Rest your head and arms on the couch beside me.” She looked at him, confused at first, not knowing what was to come. “What are -” She managed to get out, before he cut her off. Gruffly, almost annoyed, he interrupted her.

“I said, lay down on your stomach. Now.”

The hint of anger in his voice almost made her jump, and she dropped immediately to her knees, pulling herself over his lap. She lay awkwardly, head on the couch, her stomach resting on his knees. Annoyed, he grunted and placed one hand under her thighs, forcefully pushing her, until her crotch rested against his knees and her legs dangled behind her. The intensity of such a surprising shift caused her to gasp, and the feel of his fingers on the bare skin of her thighs sent a rush of sensation through her. Thankfully, her slight moan was muffled by the fact her head was buried into the couch.

Her head was swimming again, as if she were still intoxicated. Thoughts raced through her brain. Is this where he wants me? What is he doing back there? Can I turn around, or will that make him angry? Oh god, he can see everything right now.

Even as her mind raced, however, one thought stuck with her, returning to her mind again and again. Just a few weeks ago, she had broached the subject of spanking to him. She had expressed her curiosity, but made clear that it was something she had never tried before. Could this be... Will he...

His voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. “You know why I’m doing this, don’t you missy? You made me a promise that you wouldn’t drink too much and make a scene, and that’s what happened. Do you understand”

She nodded her head, not daring to turn and face him. “I do.” He exhaled slowly, lost in his own thoughts. For a moment, he allowed himself to break character, and leaned down close, his breath hot against her ear. “If at any stage you’re not comfortable and need a break, just say ‘yellow light’. If you want to stop altogether, ‘red light’. Got it?”

When she nodded back and replied with “Uh-huh,” He could practically hear the smile on her face. He returned back to his sitting position, and settled instantly back into his domineering persona. “Now, let’s make sure you learn your lesson.”

His last words echoed in her ear, and she found herself holding her breath as the following silence permeated the room. Her world was the couch in front of her, the warmth of his knees against her crotch, the sound of his breathing. Like a calm before the storm, her senses felt heightened, and even the feel of her tight dress against her skin felt constricting, confining. Suddenly, it happened.

WHACK

She heard it before she felt it. The abrupt, sharp crack echoed in her ears, her eyes widening in surprise. Seconds after, the sensation struck her like a bolt of lighting. She could feel the exact imprint of his palm against her rapidly-reddening ass cheek, complete with the ring on his ring finger. Her body stiffened and her back arched as the stinging pain rocketed through her, quickly being replaced with a near-burning sensation. His palm lifted from her skin, and the burning intensified.

She let out her first cry at this stage, her mouth opening wide unbidden, and a plaintive yelp escaped her lips. Almost immediately, she began to ramble.

“Yellow light! Yellow light, yellow light!” Again, all pretense was dropped, and his lips were back behind her head.

“What is it, baby?” The stern edge was gone, replaced instead with a caring, concerned tone. She laughed. “Take off your damn ring, you goof ball!” He paused, and looked down at his hand. Laughing, he removed the ring and leaned back in, planting a kiss on the back of neck.

“Sorry baby, gone now. Shall we?” She nodded again, almost eager this time.

He straightened, and again fell into his sullen persona that he enjoyed ever so much. “Now, where were we?” Again, he let his words hang in the air as he admired her round, toned behind, the way it met the curve of her long legs. He enjoyed the sight of her pale skin, one cheek turning a dark shade of pink in the shape of his hand.

He had to suppress a chuckle when he saw a patch of deeper red around the ring finger - clearly, his ring had done some damage. He raised his hand again, waiting for her breathing to settle. Her back rose and fell, quickly at first, but soon settling into short, shallow, even breaths. Seeing his chance, he struck again.

WHACK

Her body rose and fell, her face pressing hard into the couch. All the same, he could hear her muffled scream, and reveled in the way it drew out, ending in a moan. From the way her back arched and her hips wiggled, he knew that she was enjoying this. The notion made him smile, though he reminded himself that this was not for her pleasure. He leaned in close and growled at her.

“Each time you feel my palm strike your ass, you’re going to tell me what you did to deserve it. Loud and clear. If I can’t hear you, or if you don’t make sense, you’re going to get five more. Do you understand?”

The desperate nod and the tinge of fear in her “Yes,” Made him smile wickedly, and his cock throbbed in response, pressed tight against her stomach, only a few layers of clothing separating them. He lifted his palm, taking aim, and...

WHACK

The ferocity of this blow took her by surprise, and her mind went blank momentarily. Her eyes bulged wide, and her mouth open in a silent scream. She sensed his impatience, and quickly began to stammer and mumble.

“I... I got, got drunk and made a scene.” She quickly added, winching from the sharp pain radiating from her backside. She felt the warmth emanating from his handprints on her ass, as well as another warmth - deep in her core, spreading throughout her body. She felt the dampness between her legs, and worried for a second that she would ruin his suit pants. This though was quickly wiped from her mid, however, when...

WHACK

Another blow, harder than the one before. She gasped for breath, and quickly repeated her offence, bracing herself for the onrush of pain as the sharp noise echoed in her ears and in her brain. As intense the pain was, it could not compare to the rush of pleasure that followed each spank. Her skin was on fire, every fiber of her being alight with sensation. Her breathing was hoarse and ragged now, and despite the pretense of punishment, she could not remember a time when she had been quite this turned on.

She allowed herself to moan deeply, pressing herself into his lap, delighting in the feel of his stiff cock hard against her crotch. She loved knowing he was enjoying this as much as she was. She felt like she was floating, only vaguely aware of anything but the feel of his palm on her ass, his body warm against her. She could almost hear his palm whistling through the air as it descended again.

WHACK

Her body jolted forward, and tears sprang to her eyes, contrasting against the broad smile on her smile. In a lust-soaked voice, she moaned again.

“I deserve to be punished.” The words flew unbidden from her mouth, stemming entirely from the ravenous beast now awoken inside her. She froze, her body taut, unsure of how he would react to this. Again, an ominous silence hung in the air. She took this opportunity to wipe the tears from her eyes, and could hear his calm, even breathing, in stark contrast to her own.

Finally, he broken the silence. “That was your five. How are you feeling?” The soft, caring tone was back in his voice, and no trace of the stern man remained, at least for now. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently lifted her off his lap, ushering her onto her knees on the couch next to him.

Looking him in the eyes, she took a few moments to breathe before finally managing to speak. “It was... indescribable. So much pain, but it felt so good. Can we do this again?”

She added the last with a playful smile and poke of her tongue, and he couldn’t help but smile back. He leaned in, and pressed his lips against hers, their desire for each other clearly evident in the hunger with which their tongues sought out their counterparts, their hands clawing desperately at each other’s neck and shoulders.

All pretense of him holding any kind of power or dominion over her was quickly forgotten, as she eagerly pushed herself against him, her hard nipples straining against the tight fabric of her black dress. She savored the taste of his lips as she straddled him, moaning into his mouth, driven solely by her want for him, her need for him. She leaned back and began to hastily undo his belt, sliding it free and holding it up.

Meeting his gaze, she smirked and said, “Next time, you’re using this!” He simply laughed and nodded in response, too distracted by her hands eagerly unzipping his fly. She slid her hand in, and her eyes lit up as she extracted his cock. Clearly, he had been just as turned on by the spanking as she had been, and she was trilled to feel his warm skin in the palm of her hand, thick and stiff and ready for her.

She locked her eyes up upon his, and began to lower herself down towards him. He snuck a glance down, and saw her thighs, slick with her arousal. He gasped as he felt the head of his cock brush against her lips for the first time, and a shiver ran through his body. The sight of her gripping him in her palm, lowering herself onto him, teasing the both of them, drove him wild. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab her by the shoulders, to thrust into her and impale her, but he knew she was enjoying this far too much to interrupt.

Her mouth was open in a serene half-smile, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Her hips bucked back and forth, sliding the head of his cock through her lips again and again, never quite entering her. Each time he brushed her clit, her body would tense and shudder, her eyes jolting forward and an inadvertent moan escaping her lips. From her shallow and uneven breathing, they both knew this teasing could not continue much longer.

Finally, it happened. She angled her hips forward just a fraction, and with a subtle movement, the head of his cock slipped inside her. Both of their eyes went wide, and neither moved for what felt like an eternity. His mouth was open in a silent scream, the feeling of her warm, inviting wetness almost overwhelming. Similarly, she was in ecstasy. Her body had been in desperate need since the spanking began, the ache in the pit of her stomach growing rapidly into an intense desire to feel him, to be filled by him. Finally, she had him where she wanted him.

She began to lower herself further onto him, feeling herself stretch to accommodate him. She could feel each and every ridge, every vein, every inch of him as he slid deeper inside her. It was one long, slow, deliberate movement, and she was not fully satisfied until she was pressed against him, and his cock was buried inside her to the hilt. Her arousal meant there was virtually no resistance, but all the same she felt full and tight and complete. She had time right where she wanted him, and he was where he belonged.

He couldn’t help but groan her name when he felt her settle against his crotch. He could still feel the radiating warmth from her ass against his thighs, even through his pants, and the mental image of her bare, pale ass reddening with his handprints excited him all the more. When she began to rock her hips, her muscles squeezed his cock so exquisitely that he feared he may not be able to last much longer. In response, he began to thrust against her, in time with her own ministrations. Slowly at first, almost imperceptibly, but the more his lust for her grew, the more her body jolted and bounced above him.

As his pace grew more intense, he began to grunt and moan in time with each thrust, growing more animalistic by the second. She placed both arms on his shoulder to steady herself, surrendering to his desires. His hands moved to her hips and he gripped her tightly, holding her in place as he thrust into her again and again. He held her in such a way where he could lift her up, draw out almost to the tip, before thrusting deep inside her again, pulling her down on top of him in tandem. Soon, her own moans began to drown out his, and her head bounced from side to side with each thrust. As he settled into a feverish pace, his desire for her grew exponentially. He reached upwards and tugged roughly on her dress, grabbing a handful of her bra underneath and nearly ripping the fabric. Her breasts sprang free, exposed to him for the first time this evening.

Eagerly, he leaned forward and took one of her nipples in his mouth, suckling and biting gently as she bounced on top of him. She threw her head back and whimpered loudly, one arm clinging to the back of his neck, cradling him against her breasts. His tongue lapped eagerly at her nipple, savoring the taste of her. With each noise she made, each jolt of her body, he felt himself draw closer to the edge, and he knew he could not last much longer.

Her moans had now turned into gasps and yelps, each time her body bounced down against him. Her entire mind was focused on the pleasure building in her core, and she too knew that her orgasm was fast approaching. She leaned in close, nibbling on his ear, whispering in a husky voice.

“Is this what you do to bad girls, is it? You pull them over your knee, spank their ass until they’re soaking wet, then fuck them until they cum so hard they scream?” He moaned loudly, muffled by her chest against his lips. Smiling lewdly to herself, impressed by the filthy thoughts springing to mind, she continued.

“Well, if this what bad girls who don’t listen to your rules get, I might just have to be bad much more often. Perhaps even every night of the week...”

He had never heard her utter quite such filthy things. His mind blanked, part from shock, part from the sheer arousal of hearing her in such a wanton mood. His pace intensified, slamming into her with such force that the slap of her thighs against his crotch echoed through the room with the same intensity as her spanking earlier. He buried his head back against the couch, and let out a low, guttural groan as he felt his orgasm approach. His hands clutched and clawed at her waist, and he pulled her down against him tightly, impaling her on his cock, thrusting deep inside her.

Finally, he felt himself pass the point of no return. His mouth sprung wide open, eyes rolling back into his head as his cock began to twitch and pulsate deep inside her. His groan turned into a wordless cry as he let go, emptying himself deep inside her, his nails digging into her skin, holding onto her for dear life. The pain from his nails in her skin barely registered to her, as she was entirely focused on the feeling of him exploding inside her. He felt his warm seed flood into her, filling her even more than before. She bit her lip and held her breath as she felt her own orgasm crash over her, in tandem with his. Her body tensed and stiffened, and her legs began to shake and quiver.

She felt that familiar tingling, building in the pit of her stomach since they had arrived home, begin to radiate outwards, flowing through her body and filling her with pure ecstasy. She attempted to cry out his name, but she too was unable to form a coherent sentence, simply crying out in shock and pleasure as wave of orgasm crashed over her. Her cries and moans grew in volume as her orgasm continued, and she buried her face into his shoulder, biting down roughly through the fabric to muffle her own cries.

The room grew quiet, save for their ragged breathing. She lay slumped against him, his cock still inside her, neither wanting to move an inch. They lay in silence, simply enjoying the warmth of each other, basking in the afterglow. After a time, she lifted herself from him, and curled up in his lap, not bothering to lower her dress or to zip his fly. He began to stroke her hair, and she sighed contentedly. She looked up at him, and began to giggle softly, hiding her smile behind her hand.

“And what are you laughing at, baby girl?” He asked, unable to keep a smile from spreading across his face.

She looked away shyly, laughing again before whispering, “Can you... Can you make a ‘request’ of me every time we go out? The harder it is to follow, the better.” With this, she looked up, and craned her neck to view her own reddened backside. “And five isn’t enough. You’d better make it at least ten next time.”

#chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #matt casey #matt casey imagine #matt casey x reader #matt casey fan fiction #matt casey smut #fan fictions #rules are made to be broken**#my fanfic stuff

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futurewriter2000 · 4 years

Text

Intricacy on Strings - pt. 10

Pretending. That was what it was. You and him pretending that nothing more than friendship ceased to exist.

Two months... Pretending.

He pretends. He pretends that he doesn't feel more than he should or see what he doesn't.

He loves you like flowers love the sun. He's the flower, you're his sun.

He pretends he doesn't see you looking at him in class. He pretends he doesn't care when in reality he wants to grab you off that chair and just take you away and lock both of you up in a cupboard, explode like a champagne.

He feels like he will... Soon.

"Good luck pretty boys." you wrapped your arms around their shoulders and lifted yourself up, taking a swing before landing on your feet.

George let out a laugh, Fred stayed tense.

"Cheering for your boyfriend today?" George asked, looking at your blue sweater.

"How dare you judge me like this, Georgie." you gasped, taking your hoodie off and revealinga Gryffindor shirt with a red-golden tie on it.

Fred didn't even look at you until George pointed it out. "Oi, where'd you get that tie from?"

Fred finally turned to look at you, eyes focusing on the red-golden tie around your neck. His tie.

And what was it again?

Pretending?

"Why?" he snarked at you, rolling his eyes far back his head.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him but you tried to brush it off, looking at his brother. "I'm a little petty thief." you wrinkled your nose at him and George snorted, ignoring his brother as well.

"Happy to know you know your priorities." George teased as you all walked together to the field, feeling slightly uncomfortable as Fred beside you kept his body tense, his face stern.

His heart was thumping in his chest, muffled sound around him only hearing bitses of your voice in the background. It was as if you pulled a string, a red string, the forbidden string. You pulled that string in him and he started to tear apart.

He started panting from anger, from frustration he couldn't help himself but feel everything inside of him bubbling on the surface.

"George, you go on. I need to talk to, (y/n) for a while." he stopped and both, you and George exchanged a perplexed, worried look.

You swallowed it. You swallowed the whole fear and anxiety, smiling brightly at him.

He wasn't the only one pretending. If you could count the days you cried over him and then cried because you were falling in love with a different man. You were crying because this was a change that was good but not really what you wanted because it felt so foreign. It didn't feel like home no matter how many times you tried to decive yourself.

Fred was home. Perry was just there and it hurt you to feel like that because somehow, you knew you deserved Perry but at the same time Perry wasn't Fred. You still loved him.....but it started to fade. It started to fade how much you love him because Perry was so easy to love. Perry was simple.

So you pretended that you love Perry more than you love Fred.

"Take it off." he breathed out through his teeth, gritting them afterwards as if steam was leaving his ears.

Confused, you grabbed the tie and pulled it closer to yourself.

Pretend, (y/n). Pretend. - you told yourself, placing the same forced smile.

"Missing it?" you shoved him playfully but he didn't budge but glared, glared as if he was going to explode.

It scared you... No, it petrified you to see him like this.

"Take. It. Off." he growled at you, taking a step forward.

You took a step back, holding onto that tie for dear life. "No." you croaked, feeling tears in your eyes and not really knowing why but understanding.

"Just take it off."

"Why?"

"I don't want you wearing my tie."

"Why not?"

"Becuase it's not yours."

"But I wanted to support both of you-"

"SUPPORT HIM!" the champagne finally poped and he could feel himself pouring. "SUPPORT YOUR PERFECT RAVENCLAW QUIDDITCH CAPTIAN BOYFRIEND! WEAR HIS TIE!"

You felt frightened by the tone of his voice, by the volume and the weakness it seemed to show.

"Why are you yelling at me?" you voice was small, quiet,... frightened.

It made him laugh and cry at the same time. He didn't know what was happening to him but he was here, remembering how you held him, kissed him, soothed him, hugged him, been there, been there for everything... and now you weren’t because there is another guy taking his place. He doesn’t have you anymore and it’s making him lose his mind into insanity.

And it’s his fault. He waited! He thought he had time when he didn’t. It’s too late and it’s making him frustrated because now the things he wanted to do with you, you are doing with another person. He wanted to love you properly. He wanted to give you the love he was holding back so long. He wanted to love you the way you were supposed to be loved and instead he is frightening you.

Tears streamed down his cheeks like waterfall.

It was the first time you saw him cry. It broke your heart.

“Because I love you, (y/n).” his voice broke, the tightness in his throat taking away half of its strenght. “I love you so much. I love you.” his eyes continued to provide salty tears, wide traces imprinting on his cheeks.

There it was. Everything you ever wanted to hear.

But somehow, you weren’t happy about it.

“It’s been you. It’s been you the whole time. You who I should have taken to the Ball, you who I can’t wait to see in the morning and spend the rest of my day with. It’s you who I want to kiss and hug and love and touch. It’s you. It’s always been you and it’s been torturing seeing someone I want to be with for the rest of life with somebody else.”

Your limbs went numb. Your brain went into a spiral of everything. You couldn’t even feel yourself hit the ground until he was picking you back up.

Everything. Every single word you wanted to hear from him and he finally said it... he said it and you couldn’t figure out why you weren’t happy about it.

“I should have told you that day after the match. I should have told you before he got to you.” he said and your head snapped up at him.

He lifted you up but as soon as your feet landed on the floor you shoved him away so hard, slamming him against the wall. “YOU- YOU- YOU-!” you stormed to him and started punching his chest. “YOU INCONCEIVABLE, DENSE- PREPOSTEROUS LITTLE FUCK1!!!” you continued to throw your fists into his chest but he caught them in his large hands and stopped you. You slapped him across the cheek quite hard and regretted it immediately but you were so furious at him. “YOU WAITED TWO BLOODY MONTHS!! I WAITED MONTHS AND MONTHS TO EVEN GET A HINT THAT YOU MIGHT LOVE ME BACK AND YOU’RE CONFESSING IT ALL TO ME TWO MONTHS INTO MY NEW RELATIONSHIP!!!!” you bellowed and pushed yourself away, facing him your back and huffing.

He stood there, stoic, staring at you with wide eyes as if something clicked inside of him.

“Love you back?” he repeated what you had said but you were already talking and fuming to yourself, pacing back and forward, running your hands down your face.

“(y/n), move on. He doesn’t love you. And he has the audacity to just say it, flat out.” you continued to pace up and down, wiping him out of the scene as your thoughts came rushing in and out of your head.”When?” you turned around, glaring and clenching your jaw.

“The button thing.” he couldn’t help himself but smile as he said that, realizing it himself.

You, however, felt your eye twitch. Oh, how you wanted to attack him right now. Hell, you were fist first storming to him right now.

His smile fell and his eyes widened. Before you fist could touch him first he moved away and wrapped his long arms around you, feeling you kicking and shouting.

“Calm down, gremlin.” he lifted you up, locking your arms in a tight embrace with one arm and slapping his other hand on your lips.

You wriggled in his arms, feeling the anger leave your body.

He squeezed you tight, gently tight- where he pressed his body against yours just for a second of time, embracing the moment.

You turned around with tears in your eyes. You couldn’t believe it. Your mind couldn’t process it.

His hands framed your head, cupped your cheeks and wiped the tears. He smiled, leaning his forehead on yours and brushing his nose against the bridge of your own. He closed his eyes shut, breathing evenly as his heart filled itself with love. “I love you.” he whispered, letting it known to you that he was prepared to tell you this phrase again and again. He brushed his upper lip agaisnt the tip of your nose. “I love you so much.” he continued to speak quietly, alluring you in with his voice and embracing you with the feeling of home.

Your hands ended wrapping themselves around his neck, your toes pushing themselves up so that your lips were less than an inch apart. He gazed down on you as you looked up into his chocolate brown, darker as the clouds covered the sun.

His hands, on your waist, pressed you closer to him, letting your upper body lean back a bit, eyes seductive, lips inviting.

No more pretending.

He is not going to wait anymore; leaning forward his nose touched the tip of yours, teasing your lips with a small touch- just to intense the intimacy between the two of you until he fully pressed himself onto you, his lips in a love lock with yours.

It spread like fire. From your lips to every inch of your body. Like poison burnt your skin, he burns your soul. Kisses, deep and lustful, differing from anything else you have experianced, they spun your head in circles.

Your hands pulled him down, then dug themselves into his dense hair. It was as if your sould wanted to consume him whole.

He smiled against your lips, taking a firmer grip of your hips and pulling you to close any bit of space that was left between the two of you.

He won’t let you go. Not anymore.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley

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jadelotusflower · 3 years

Text

Roundup - September 2021

This month: Saving Fish From Drowning, Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass, Anne Boleyn, Cruella, The Chair

Reading

Saving Fish from Drowning (Amy Tan) - I've always enjoyed Tan's work (particularly The Joy Luck Club, both the book and film) - Fish is somewhat of a departure, following a group of American tourists in Myanmar, narrated by their recently deceased friend Bibi Chen. The novel begins with a preface in which Tan explains she drew inspiration for the novel based on real events chronicled by a San Franciscan psychic's "automatic writing" channeling Chen's spirit (in truth a complete invention on Tan’s part, both literary device and metaphor).

Bibi is a compelling narrator, full of wry commentary of her friends as they bumble their way through their trip, the tone of the novel quite light despite some of the dark subject matter around the political situation in Myanmar (the novel was written in 2005 and set several years earlier) and the nature of intervention - the title referring to fisherman who "save fish from drowning" by netting them. It was at times difficult to keep track of all twelve (!) of the main characters and who was who outside of the few who get the most attention of the narrative.

An interesting read, about the stories we tell ourselves and others, and the fictions we believe for comfort and hope.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there (Lewis Carroll) - I've been making more of an effort to work on my novel lately, which makes some reference to these works so thought it was due for a re-read. It seems impossible to consider these separate novels given how conflated they have become in pop culture - even the Disney film takes elements from both - they act as either a duology, or alternatively a single story told in two parts.

I personally much prefer Looking Glass, perhaps because I imprinted on the 1985 miniseries as a child (which adapts both novels, but we only had the second part on tape) - best known for it's celebrity cameos in silly costumes - including Sammy Davis Jnr, Donald O'Connor, Ringo Starr, and Carol Channing, among others, and the danger of the Jabberwocky as a manifestation of Alice's fears quite a nice idea that isn't found in the original text.

Perhaps Looking Glass, while remaining absurdist, is more cohesive than Wonderland with the chess motif and central motive for Alice to reach the Eighth Square and become a queen. I do however find the constant poetry tedious, and wonder whether both Wonderland and Looking Glass are better remembered for the concepts rather than the actual text.

Watching

Anne Boleyn (episodes 1-3) - I didn't think we needed another film/show about Anne, but I was always going to watch it. This series relies upon familiarity with history as it begins with Anne's final, doomed pregnancy - opening with the haunting words “Anne is the most powerful woman in England - she has just five months to live.”

There's nothing especially new here; rather a mood and character piece as Anne's isolation and desperation grows. It is of course built around the central, compelling performance of Jodie Turner-Smith, in every single scene and not afraid to shy away from Anne's sharper edges while remaining profoundly sympathetic, surrounded by a court of whispers, her existence on a knife's edge. We know only what Anne knows, and we see the smaller, heartbreaking moments usually passed over in other adaptations - in her grief following the stillbirth, Anne sits up in bed almost catatonic, milk leaking from her breasts, her attempt to walk back the infamous “dead man's shoes” comment, and the long days of her imprisonment.

Then there’s the beautiful costumes - in a court of dark furs, Anne wears bold primary colours and velvets that catch the light, that them become more subdued prints once she is in the Tower.

The other notable feature is the casting - described as "identity conscious" rather than colour-blind, representative of the othering of Anne and her relatives. Another standout is Thalissa Teixeira as Anne's cousin Madge Shelton, fleshed out as her confidant and the only one who remains true to her. It's a fresh perspective and a worthwhile watch, particularly for Turner-Smith's performance.

Cruella (dir. Craig Gillespie) - Spoilers. I wasn’t planning on bothering with this, but my sister wanted to watch it and I’d been told by several people that it was actually quite good. Look, I'm not saying they lied, I just think they were able to look past things that I was not.

Because actually, the core story has potential and the film has enjoyable elements (notably Emma Thompson), but simply falters every time they try and shoehorn references to the source material, and there are some truly egregious attempts - Roger is the Baroness’s lawyer for some reason? And writes the familiar Cruella De Vil song about how awful she is when she's just given him a puppy?

It doesn’t work as a prequel, or villain origin story, or even a reboot, since Cruella’s character journey is over by the end of the film (I have no idea what the purported sequel is going to be about) - in fact "Cruella" is just a persona Stone's Estella adopts (complete with a terrible affected accent), and there is no conceivable way for her to become the wannabe puppy murderer we know from the book or any of the film adaptations. Oh, and Pongo and Perdita are siblings! Well done, Disney. Slow clap for you.

Also, with a runtime of 2 hours 16 minutes it is Interminable and the whole thing is saddled with a terrible, unnecessary voiceover. Seriously, they should show this in film class to demonstrate when v/o hinders not helps.

They were likely going for a Maleficent-style re-imagining, but where that succeeded (somewhat) in a completely new retelling right down to a different ending to the source material, this wants to have it's cake and eat it too - it wants to have the Cruella aesthetic (the car, the hair, Hell Hall, the camp accent) but doesn't ever let her be a villain, or even the beginnings of a villain, but that's that's reason she's so memorable in the first place. It puts all the pieces in place for the story we know, and yet that story simply cannot happen with this version of Cruella.

In the end, it's a story of a fundamentally decent person who maybe goes a bit overboard in retaliating to bullies, and swindles a sociopath to reclaim what's rightfully hers. Cruella De Vil! I just couldn't get over this fundamental misapplication of the source material.

In many ways, it almost feels as if this was pitched as a sequel, with Cruella in the Baroness role. It would have fit a lot better with the aesthetic, the time period, and the concept of punk disruption of classic fashion. Or, it was a completely unrelated story of a plucky orphan who rises in the fashion world, that at some point was grafted onto the Dalmatians property. Either one would have worked better, frankly.

I am probably being overly harsh. If you switch off your brain and enjoy the clothes it’s fine. But honestly, if you want your live action Cruella fix, just watch the Glenn Close version, because it is superior in every way.

The Chair (season 1) - I watched this for Sandra Oh, and I was not disappointed, because I got to watch Sandra Oh. On the other hand...it's not that I didn't like it, I just...wish it had been better?

The story revolves around Ji-Yoon Kim, the first woman (let alone woman of colour) to become Chair of English at a "minor Ivy" university, as she tries to juggle the clash of old style academia and new, raise her daughter as a single mother, and deal with a series of controversies caused by one of her professors (and love interest). It's the latter I feel sucked up way too much time and was ultimately unsatisfying - particularly the end, which was played like a moral victory but really rubbed me the wrong way. If this gets a season 2, I hope they dump Jay Duplass' fuckup sadsack because hoo boy, am I sick of that kind of male character.

But Sandra Oh is wonderful.

Writing

The Lady of the Lake - chapter 5 posted, 4215 words (10,261)

Against the Dying of the Light 1954 words (11,976)

Here I Go Again - 414 words (12,948)

Novel - 1039 words (1484)

Total this month: 7,622

Total this year: 48,435

#roundup #reading watching writing #september roundup

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wittyrosebush · 4 years

Text

The Aftermath

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Summary: You and Steve take a day to relax.

POV: 2nd

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety & depression, a little angst, mostly fluff

Word Count: ~1k

Date Posted: 11/10/20

A/N: Hey y’all! So this is a second part to The Afterparty, you do not need to read that to understand this. I have a few drafts I’m working on so expect something within the next few days. Also, I know everyone goes through anxiety & depression differently but I am somewhat basing this off of my experience because I do not want to incorrectly portray someone else’s experience. Also, three dots after a paragraph means a time skip. I'm such a sucker for soft!steve. Hope you enjoy!

Also, if you are interested in editing and giving suggestions about my writings before I post them, please let me know! I would love to have a second opinion.

Ever since you had joined the Avengers Steve had always been there for you when your anxiety reared its ugly head. And that’s what made him different. He never made you feel like your feelings were stupid or invalid. Instead, he would intently listen to anything you had to tell him and try to figure out whatever would be best for the situation. From cuddling to walking to the ice cream shop, he has done anything he can to relieve you of the stress of life.

You woke up with your limbs tangled with your boyfriend’s and the smell of his cologne from the previous night. After taking a moment to enjoy the tranquil scene, you gently removed yourself from Steve and stood up, taking a moment to admire him.

You walked out of your bedroom with a soft smile plastered on your face. You wanted to do something special for him, you thought as you stepped into the kitchen. With a determined huff escaping your mouth, you rolled up your sleeves and got to work.

. . .

Steve turned over in the bed and opened an eye when he didn’t feel you next to him. He brought himself up onto his elbows and scanned the room. When he realized you weren’t in the room he stood up and put on a pair of sweatpants before calling out your name.

You jumped from your spot at the kitchen island and walked to your room, "Good morning! Is everything ok?"

A tired smile appeared on Steve's face as soon as he saw you, "I should be asking you the same thing, doll."

"I'm better," you shrugged and leaned on the doorframe, "and I made breakfast for you if you're hungry."

Steve brought you into a loose but warm hug. You inhaled his scent, wanting to imprint it into your brain forever. The moment ended after he pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled himself away.

He walked you back to the kitchen with a loose hold on your hand. The smell of the food made him take a deep breath. You took advantage of his state of bliss to start to make him a plate of food.

"Doll, you didn't have to do this," he nearly whispered to you.

"It's fine, Steve, I wanted to do something nice for you. After this can we go out on a picnic?"

Steve nodded as he took a seat, "Of course." You set a plate of blueberry pancakes and a separate plate of sausage and scrambled eggs on the table.

The male inhaled the scent of food before taking a bite, humming in satisfaction. You took this as your cue to get yourself some food.

Seeing you sit down next to him with your food, he instinctively put an arm around your waist. You smiled as you both ate your food in content silence.

. . .

You pulled a sweatshirt over your head as your boyfriend pulled on a jacket for the cool fall day. Grabbing your hand and a picnic basket, Steve looked at you with a grin. He opened the door for you and you both walked out of your room.

The two of you left Stark Tower hand in hand. People were walking across the courtyard on business calls or trying to drink their overpriced coffee before they officially got into work.

You could almost feel the amount of stress surrounding you, but your boyfriend kept you grounded. Whenever he felt like you were getting overwhelmed he would rub his thumb over your knuckles and a small smile would almost immediately appear on your face.

The utter amount of love you both shared throughout your relationship made your stomach flutter at the thought. Both of you could not believe the luck you had with finding each other.

You both were brought away from your thoughts as you saw your favorite spot in the park; a large cottonwood tree with a gorgeous view of a pond.

The male walked you to the spot and you laid down the blanket you'd tucked under your arm. Once you sat down he carefully placed the basket of food onto the grass and returned to your side.

You had brought a book with you and Steve brought his sketchpad. While you read Steve would always draw you. The first time he told you made you a blushing mess.

"Dammit, Steve!" You cried out as you pushed your red face into your hands.

Steve panicked and threw his papers across the room, "I'm so sorry, I should have asked you but I-" The last thing he saw was his crying girlfriend lunging at him. He closed his eyes in fear, but felt your arms wrapped around his torso. The male opened his eyes to see you looking up at him, eyes brimming with tears.

"Thank you, Steve. I'm really flattered that you would draw me."

And at that moment, Steven Grant Rogers knew who the love of his life was.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you felt the super soldier's stomach rumble, "Do you want to eat now?"

"Do you?"

You frowned and brought a hand to his face, "Don't worry about me so much, love. Now, are you hungry?"

Steve nodded and you moved do you were sitting in front of him. He watched and straightened himself as you brought out a few sandwiches and 2 bottles of water.

You both lazily talked while you ate. At one point you heard Steve squeal, causing you to look up from the food. Turns out an acorn flew and hit his forehead. The super soldier's face went red. With a grin you moved closer to him and peppered his face in kisses until you both were lying down in a fit of laughter.

Once the sun touched the horizon, you packed up, more than satisfied with the events of the day. You left the park with your boyfriend's arm around your waist and a warm feeling in your chest.

The two of you arrived at Stark tower. The courtyard was much less busy than earlier. The employees were leaving the building, with relaxed shoulders and some on calls from their family wanting to know how their day was. Nobody standing near you was completely relaxed, but each had a weight taken off of them.

No one can be at peace without anxiety, you told yourself as you laid in Steve’s arms that night. Without anxiety, peace would be meaningless. No matter what you were going through, you knew he was on your side and you were on his. And that was enough to help you sleep at night.

#steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #captain america #soft!steve #soft!steve rogers #I do not need to be lusting for another person #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #Steve Rogers x Female Reader

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knybits · 4 years

Text

THE HATING GAME — 1

PAIRINGS —

↳ kochou shinobu x reader

SUMMARY —

↳ Geniuses within the same field yet rivals within each other’s eyes, your colleagues wonder when the sexual tension will break so that you two will become the department’s powerhouse couple so that they can enter you two into the couples contest against the other departments. Some things might have to be done by force.

WARNINGS —

↳ cursing, alcohol, smut

AUTHOR NOTE —

↳ look bros,,, i KNOW that it’s supposed to be last name first then first name,,, but the setting here is like idk fucking harvard or oxford lets get crazy. basically youre not in japan and youre a big brain bitch youre welcome. also,,, please drink responsibly and ask for consent. stay safe :,)

[ Navigation ]

—

It’s not like you always hated the genius that is Shinobu Kochou.

Besides yourself, she’s the other shining diamond within the chemistry department. The transfer student from Japan that doesn’t let her language barrier hold her back. In fact, she might even be more fluent in English than you (which is dumb because it’s your mother tongue but hey, she’s the genius here remember?)

Lilac painted nails with no chips and red glossed lips is Shinobu Kochou. Wrinkless lab coat and a face free of goggle imprints after an experiment is Shinobu Kochou. She’s pristine and a league above you (she might even be super rich but you could never find out.)

Sometimes she would slip out Japanese phrases or mumble in Japanese under her breath, so you know that her voice sounds the exact same no matter which language she speaks. It’s sweet like honey- a complete trap- and it intoxicates those around her to do her bidding (she’s a witch and you’d be damned to be proven wrong because this bit of information will go down with you.)

You’ve never spoken to her so you know that your dislike is misplaced. A mature adult would admit that this hate is more so envy, but fuck that.

Shinobu Kochou is perfect, flawless, an angel, and you hate it.

It doesn’t help that she would smile in your direction at times and wave a hand at you with nothing but kindness. You ignore her, of course, and your colleagues can’t fathom why you would walk past the princess without even acknowledging her.

And yet, for some reason, you find half of your department on their knees in front of you.

“Please date Shinobu! You’re our last hope!!” Your friend cries out, shoving a crummy “free beer on me” coupon she literally wrote up on a bright pink sticky note on her way over to you with 16 other people in tow.

“You want me to do what?”

Someone else steps forward to produce a flyer that another random department pasted up around the school. When you snatch the paper from them, the first thing you read is “department couple” and immediately decide to crumple the paper up.

“Wait! You didn’t even read it!”

“I’ve read enough,” you seethe, steam pour from your mouth as everyone cowers in fear of your sleep deprived self.

“C’mon (F/n)!” Your friend whines, draping herself over you and grovelling at your feet. “All the other departments are taking part in it! Each department pitches in $500 per couple and then they compete! Whichever couple wins receives the whole pool of money for their department!”

“Does everyone here even have enough money to pitch in $500??”

Someone else pipes in, “For a chance at over $6,000? We’re willing to take it.” There’s a low murmur of agreement from everyone and you roll your eyes. Everyone begins to throw empty promises at you (about as worthless as the crappy pink sticky note in your hand) before you narrow your eyes into a deathly glare at the crowd.

“There’s no way in hell you idiots will get me to date Shinobu Kochou. I’d rather an experiment blow up in my face than date her,” with those final words you storm away, lab coat fluttering the least bit for stupid dramatic effect and everyone is left speechless.

—

You’re in the middle of heating up your cup ramen when your roommate (the one that “gifted” you a free beer coupon) comes home, shuffling in. She has a guilty look on her face that bleeds “this is just for show.”

Araceli drapes herself across the counter for your attention but you decide not to pay her any mind, instead taking your cup ramen- fork stuck through the lid to keep the hot steam in- to the couch and turning the TV on.

You have three minutes to find a show to watch, but that plan goes to shit when Araceli groans aloud for your attention.

“What,” you snap and Araceli comes crawling over from the counter and into your side on the couch, her arms wrapped around your waist.

“I feel bad-”

“No you don’t.”

She keeps going despite your rude interruption, “But everyone in the department decided to go to the club tonight. I owe you more than just one drink, so pleaaaassseee,” she bats her eyelashes at you (they’re incredibly long and you’re envious them.)

Araceli’s puppy dog face always gets you to cave and you find yourself angrily shoving some half cooked noodles into your mouth. That response is enough for her to cheer, squeezing you even harder than she already is.

“Your wallet better be prepared,” you quip as you resume a show you desperately need to catch up on. You don’t catch the mischievous glint in her eyes, yourself already pinned to the plot of your show as it does its job to empty your head.

—

Clubs aren’t really your scene.

You used to go to them often when you started out as a freshman in college, but it lost its charm by your junior year. Now you prefer drinking in your apartment, every month or so slipping back onto campus to conduct some random experiments to allow Araceli her time with whoever she brought home.

There’s something about a club that lets you (loosely) compare it to a masquerade ball (loosely.) Music plays and alcohol burns so strongly within everyone’s systems that they can’t see the face of the person they’re grinding on. Oh, and within their respective timelines, you have to dress up for both a ball and a club.

In one of your more scandalous outfits, you can’t help but check yourself out in the mirror before dipping because damn do you look HOT and everybody better take some fucking notes. You confidence shoots up when Araceli whistles the second you step out of your room, and the two of you drive to the club a couple blocks from the college.

Before you two step into the booming building, Araceli waves wildly at her boyfriend with a bright smile. They give each other a quick kiss in greeting and a sudden thought crosses your mind.

“Why don’t you two enter the contest?”

Araceli tuts at you, wagging a finger in disappointment before saying, “See? This is why you have to read the whole poster dear roomie. The couple has to be two people from the same department.” Unfortunately, her boyfriend is from the modern literature department (how they met, you have no clue.)

The three of you make your grand entrance and everyone within your department (making up most of the club right now) scream with delight before ushering you over. A shot of tequila is pushed into your hands and you smile before downing your first drink of the night.

With a never ending stream of alcohol being passed into your hands and some good fucking music (the club on the other side of town has some down right god awful music that the math department and social science department likes) you finally let your hair down. Every once in a while, some sad drunk would cry to you, apologizing for asking you to do something you don’t want to do. When they hear your laugh over the loudspeaker they laugh with you, and another drink is passed into your hands.

The bass shakes the room and you jump to the beat, cheering and whooping during every drinking game. Araceli hangs off your shoulders when you both take a shot at the same time, and her boyfriend leads her onto the dance floor.

You’re sober enough- barely- to watch your best friend with fond eyes, her boyfriend and she dancing like idiots to the music and laughing as if they’re little kids. They’re horribly off beat when they jump but watching Araceli have the time of her life is enough to make you happy, and you’re glad you went to the club.

Araceli catches your eye from across the room and she stumbles towards you, taking ahold of your hand before handing you one last shot.

“Down it and let’s dance!!!” She yells and you do as told, throat burning and ears barely picking up her cheers as she drags you onto the dance floor.

By this time you’re actually honest to god shitfaced, but that’s fine. The music shifts and people that recognize the song go apeshit, yelling and jumping all at once at the bass drop. Araceli dances with her boyfriend, but the second you blink she’s gone with the rest of the crowd and you’re left alone to dance on your own.

When a song that you recognize starts to play you begin to sing along, but your voice gets caught when someone backs up into you. What was an innocent bump quickly turns into something more and now you’re one of the blackout drunk idiots that isn’t aware of who is grinding on them.

You can tell it’s a female when your hands move to grip her waist, and her back presses up against your chest. She smells of lavender and sweat, and her jet black hair tickles your nose. You can’t help but smile at this new feeling, and she makes a daring move to take one of your hands and lift it to grope her left breast.

With a hum of delight, you loop your finger around a belt band and twirl her around to face you. All you can see is big amethyst eyes, half lidded and staring pointedly at your lips.

“Can I kiss-!” You try to yell over the music, but that’s enough of an ‘okay’ to this mystery woman before her lips are greedily pressed to your’s.

There’s instant tongue, and you don’t expect anything less from someone so bold. She’s somehow slipped a hand under your shirt, feeling her way up your chest and you move a hand to grip her ass.

That’s the last thing you remember before your mind blanks from the ecstasy that is this mystery woman. There’s the brief flash of stumbling into an Uber, a soft and breathy voice giving directions as you suck on her neck like some teenager.

Then there’s the feeling of silk bed sheets, your fingers dripping wet after fucking her senseless and the look of excitement in her eyes as you lick up all her juices, tongue gliding up your digits.

At some point you have her slammed up against the walls and at another point your tongue explores her pretty little cunt. The constant sound of moaning, pleading, begging and you calling her a “good girl” circles through your head (though the latter is something you find yourself embarrassed about.)

Your eyes open to bright sunlight and a royal bitch of a headache. A low groan rumbles from the back of your throat and you bury your head into the pillows, but the scent throws you off because this is not your pillow.

When you look over the edge of your side of whoever’s bed you’re in, you catch sight of condom wrappers and your clothes scattered across the room. You also see a blindfold, but you decide not to think too hard back on that memory.

Warm arms slide its way around your waist and you freeze in surprise. A sickly sweet giggle fills your ears and when you turn to face the person you spent the night with your face pales considerably.

Shinobu Kochou, the witch herself, smiles at you peacefully. Her lipstick is smeared and there are a plethora of hickies scattered across her neck (you can only assume that there are more under the covers) but the sunlight bounces off her cheekbones so nicely it irritates you.

“Good morning (F/n). Did you sleep well?” Shinobu coos, and your life spirals into hell.

—

[ Next Chapter ]

#shinobu #shinobu kochou #kochou shinobu #kocho shinobu #shinobu x reader #kochou shinobu x reader #kocho shinobu x reader #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #the hating game

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perfecttimeseleven · 4 years

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PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN EP. 3 TRANSCRIPT

ACT ONE

SCENE FIVE

(REMINGTON and JAY are still seated at the living room table. REMINGTON is leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, bored. JAY is leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, frustrated.)

REMINGTON

I can’t do it. All the voices are too loud, and the “Joyce” one is quiet as shit. It’s like, I‘m listening for “Joyce”, right, but out of nowhere another voice is like “Birds!” and I’m all like “Fuck!”

JAY

(fed up, without looking at REMINGTON)

Try again. It might help if you say “Joyce” along with the voice.

REMINGTON

Can’t you demonstrate? I really won‘t judge.

JAY

(still not looking at REMINGTON)

No.

REMINGTON

C’mon, just take off your little ring there — I’m guessing that’s the accessory you use and just...do your magic.

JAY

No.

(REMINGTON lets her head fall onto the table, exasperated. Jay lifts up a foot and is about to kick her hair when REMINGTON suddenly raises her head again.)

REMINGTON

Were you about to kick my hair?

JAY

Maybe. Maybe not.

REMINGTON

Better have been maybe not. My hair is my best feature. You should get it. I mean, you have lots of good features — like girl, you’re fucking hot — but your hair is pristine.

JAY

Thanks?

REMINGTON

You know what I don’t get?

JAY

(lowering her foot)

A lot of things.

REMINGTON

(ignoring JAY)

Why animals attack me. Is that…normal? I get that it was the sign I needed help with this, but…

JAY

You’re not special. Animals sense the “perfection” in us. In the whole several-human-reincarnations-in-a-row thing. Stay away from zoos.

REMINGTON

Hm. Come on, show me how to do the thing —

JAY

(betrayed)

No!

REMINGTON

Please! I’m really stupid. You’re smart and beautiful and experienced in this and beautiful. I’ll owe you one. Plus, your sugar daddy Dr. Morello’s gonna be pissed if we spent all this time sitting here and accomplished nada.

JAY

Oh, God, please never string those words together in that order again —

REMINGTON

And then he’ll dock your pay from nothing to less than nothing.

JAY

Oh, that makes so much sense. How would he be a hypothetical sugar daddy if he doesn’t pay me? That’s the opposite —

REMINGTON

Do you want your nonexistent salary to suffer, you sadistic bastard?

JAY

If I do it, will you stop talking?

REMINGTON

Probably will.

(JAY takes off her ring and places it on the table. The moment it leaves her hand, she winces.)

JAY

(in pain)

Aghh!

REMINGTON

(shocked)

Shit. Do I call 911?

JAY

(forcefully)

No. Just...watch this. Focus...

(pauses)

Here, this voice’s word is Clara...and then...say the word if it helps...

(pauses, gripping the table with both hands)

Clara...Clara...there. I’m in.

(With a painful movement, JAY grabs her ring. The moment she touches it, she relaxes.)

JAY

You’re welcome for that. Don’t fucking say a word.

(pauses)

Your turn.

(REMINGTON takes off her bracelet and places it on the table. 6. Love is a Constant.)

VOICES

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM, JOYCE, TRADITION, BIRDS.

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM.

REMINGTON/VOICES

JOYCE.

VOICES

TRADITION, BIRDS.

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM.

VOICES

TRADITION, BIRDS.

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM.

REMINGTON/VOICES

JOYCE.

VOICES

TRADITION, BIRDS. HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM.

REMINGTON/VOICES

JOYCE. JOYCE. JOYCE. JOYCE.

JAY

Remington? You good? Did it work?

REMINGTON

(strangely tenderly)

Joyce?

(Suddenly, REMINGTON lunges forward and hits JAY's hand. JAY drops her ring onto the table. Almost immediately, she freezes.)

JAY

(also incredibly tender, but even more shockingly because this is JAY we’re talking about)

Clara?

REMINGTON

(overjoyed)

Joyce!

JAY

(gently)

IS IT REALLY YOU? DO I DECEIVE MY MIND?

NEVER IN MY DAYS DID I THINK I WOULD FIND

A KIND OF LIFE AFTER DEATH, NEVERTHELESS YOU!

REMINGTON

Yes, Joyce! It’s me!

JAY

Clara!

REMINGTON

DO YOU RECALL THE EVENING WHEN WE FIRST MET?

JAY

OH, YES, I RECALL!

REMINGTON

AT THE GATE BETWEEN OUR GARDENS, RIGHT AT SUNSET?

AND YOU WORE THAT DRESS, CRIMSON,

JAY/REMINGTON

WITH THOSE BUTTONS LIKE FLOWERS?

REMINGTON

Yes!

JAY

I WAS TOO SHY AT FIRST TO EVEN TELL YOU MY NAME.

REMINGTON

YOU WERE SO SHY!

JAY

BUT WHEN YOU SMILED, MY FACE FLUSHED UP, AFLAME.

YOU MADE ME FEEL AT EASE.

REMINGTON/JAY

WE TALKED AND WROTE FOR HOURS.

WE’VE LIVED, WE’VE DIED, AND NOW WE’RE HERE!

NOT QUITE TOGETHER, BUT, MY DEAR,

WE CAN SEE LOVE IS A CONSTANT!

WE’VE LIVED, WE’VE DIED, AND NOW WE’RE HERE!

UNSURE WHERE THIS IS, BUT I HAVE NO FEAR

SINCE I KNOW LOVE IS A CONSTANT!

REMINGTON

I RECALL ALL THOSE SUITORS WHO’D COME TO YOUR DOOR,

AND

REMINGTON/JAY

WITH EVERY PASSING YEAR THERE’D SEEM TO BE MORE.

REMINGTON

I WAS BAFFLED WHY YOU STILL CHOSE TO SPEND YOUR AFTERNOONS

WITH ME.

JAY

OH, WELL, I WAS FORCED TO MARRY AFTER YOU PASSED.

A RICH MAN, OLD, BUT WITH MONEY AND CLASS

WE HAD NO CHILDREN. HE PASSED AWAY. I LIVED OUT THE REST OF MY DAYS LONELY.

REMINGTON/JAY

WE’VE LIVED, WE’VE DIED, AND NOW WE’RE HERE!

NOT QUITE TOGETHER, BUT, MY DEAR,

WE CAN SEE LOVE IS A CONSTANT.

WE’VE LIVED, WE’VE DIED, AND NOW WE’RE HERE!

UNSURE WHERE THIS IS, BUT I HAVE NO FEAR

SINCE I KNOW LOVE IS A CONSTANT!

LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE

LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE

LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE

LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE

REMINGTON/JAY

I’D FORGOTTEN HOW MUCH I TRULY MISS

OUR TALKS, LONG AFTERNOONS, YOUR TENDER KISS

OH, WHAT I’D GIVE TO LIVE WITH YOU AS MY WIFE.

CLOSE YOUR EYES AND EMBRACE ME, MY LOVE

FORGET THESE HIDEOUS BODIES WE’RE TRAPPED INSIDE OF

OH, HOW I’VE YEARNED FOR YOUR TOUCH ALL MY LIFE.

VOICES

OOH, LOVE IS THEIR CONSTANT...

(Someone is knocking at the door between the kitchen and the living room. It’s DAISY.)

DAISY

Remy? Jay?

(DAISY knocks again.)

VOICES

OOH, LOVE IS THEIR CONSTANT

DR. MORELLO

Are they still in there?

DAISY

I’m pretty sure. Hang on. Guys?

(DAISY knocks a couple more times, louder.)

VOICES

OOH, LOVE IS THEIR CONSTANT

(DR. MORELLO and DAISY enter to see REMINGTON and JAY embrace.)

DR. MORELLO/DAISY

Janette!/Remy fuckin’ Ratatouille!

(DR. MORELLO immediately notices JAY’s ring and REMINGTON’s bracelet on the table. He grabs JAY’s ring and shoves it in her hand. DAISY takes REMINGTON’s bracelet and does the same. JAY instantly snaps out of her trance.)

JAY

Holy —! God! Remington!

(pushing REMINGTON off of her. REMINGTON stumbles a little, almost falling off the table.)

REMINGTON

Shit!

JAY

What the hell was that?

(JAY quickly slips the ring onto her finger, evidently very embarrassed. REMINGTON regains her footing.)

REMINGTON

Eh, who cares. Let’s pick up where they left off —

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

No!

DR. MORELLO

Remington! Jay! Get down from the table immediately. Sit down!

REMINGTON

(noticing DR. MORELLO and DAISY for the first time)

Oh, shit. Hello. Sorry.

(REMINGTON and JAY make their way down back to their chairs. DAISY nudges DR. MORELLO.)

DAISY

See, I hate to say “I told you so”, but I told you so.

DR. MORELLO

Kids, what happened here?

(There’s a pause.)

REMINGTON

I think we got possessed. By dead lesbians.

DR. MORELLO

Oh.

REMINGTON

The word is most definitely Joyce now though. She’s, uh, she’s got Joyce.

JAY

You know how one of my voices is, uh, named Joyce? And how her word is Clara? She’s Clara.

REMINGTON

I guess Joyce and Clara knew each other back in the day...both in the literal and, uh, biblical sense...

DR. MORELLO

There’s really no need for profane hand motions. Go on.

REMINGTON

And then, well, we ended up in a situation when both of our accessories were off —

JAY

You mean your accessory was off and then you slapped mine out of my hand.

REMINGTON

Clara slapped it out of your hand. Anyway, then we got possessed.

DR. MORELLO

Okay.

REMINGTON

Yeah. Um...what do your big doctor brains think about that?

DR. MORELLO

I...I have never seen anything like this before...but I’m guessing the explanation is actually quite simple.

JAY/REMINGTON

What?

DR. MORELLO

The word a voice says is its most recurring thought manifesting itself as an imprint on the soul. Now, a person has to be quite important to someone if they’re, quite literally, all they think about. And for that to be something going both ways...these ladies certainly had an exceptional bond.

DAISY

Star-crossed gal pals.

DR. MORELLO

Yes. Soulmates, if you will.

JAY

Hold up. “Soulmates” as in Clara and Joyce were just one in a billion, or “soulmates” as in my soul and Remington’s soul?

DR. MORELLO

We have no way of knowing right now, but from what I think — well, this is quite a rare case, especially the fact that an echo of a previous life was able to take over the current host...I’d conclude that, yes, you are “soul-mates”, quite literally.

REMINGTON

So! How ‘bout it, eh, soulmate?

JAY

(ignoring REMINGTON)

That can’t be a real thing, can it?

REMINGTON

Only one way to find out!

DR. MORELLO

Now, seeing as you have actually uncovered some important information, you may have recreational time for the rest of the evening. I need to look deeper into this. Uh, there’s some video games in the cabinet. I’ll be in my office upstairs. Also, I was going to come in here to let you know we’re having pizza for dinner. It should be coming in half an hour.

DAISY

And I made sugar cookies.

(DR. MORELLO leaves dizzily. He looks like he has a headache.)

REMINGTON

Swell! Some quality soulmate time?

JAY

Someone get her away from me.

(DAISY looks back and forth from JAY to REMINGTON. She’s a smart kid. She knows when she should leave people alone.)

REMINGTON

Oh, I get it. You’re too good for me.

DAISY

I’m...gonna head out.

(DAISY exits.)

JAY

Listen, kid, you don’t know shit about me. I don’t know shit about you. It’s better if it stays that way. I don’t know what he’s talking about with this soulmate shit, but I do know that you don’t want to get involved with me and my life.

REMINGTON

Oh, ha. ’Cause you’ve got some kind of “issues”?

(JAY is silent.)

REMINGTON

Wow. Damn, I didn’t know someone could be this angsty in real life. With your wearing-all-black deal and e-girl hair and ear piercings and shit? Ooh, I bet you pierced them yourself with, like, the finger bone of a shark you strangled or something.

JAY

Sharks don’t have fucking fingers. And no; I got them pierced at a mall Claire’s when I was 11.

REMINGTON

(finding this funny)

Off brand, but okay —

JAY

Yeah. Fucking loved Claire’s. Still do. What about it?

(There’s a pause.)

REMINGTON

(quietly)

Nothing. Claire’s is valid. You’re a lady of fine taste.

(REMINGTON and JAY are silent for a moment.)

REMINGTON

They called our bodies “hideous”. Did you hear that?

JAY

Yeah, that was uncalled for.

(They both chuckle a bit awkwardly.)

REMINGTON

Sorry for earlier. It was my fault.

JAY

(tensing back up)

Yeah, it was.

REMINGTON

You could’ve told me listening to your voices...hurt.

(pauses)

How does that even work?

JAY

Didn’t tell you ‘cause I knew you’d ask that.

(pauses, before sighing)

I’m...in a peculiar situation. See, once the voices started to manifest in my soul’s earlier hosts, they...joined groups, or organizations. Similar to this one, but more serious. Cult-ish, almost. They’d dedicate their shitty lives to preserving the goodness of the soul to continue the line of human hosts. One organization like that a good half of my voices was involved with — it was large and thriving and would track down new hosts.

REMINGTON

That’s cool, but why does that...cause pain?

JAY

See, look past the single word a voice presents itself as and you “unlock” the memories of that person. Over time, the more you listen to them, the more they become an interactive collection of memories — almost a voice that reacts to your thoughts.

REMINGTON

So you can talk to them?

JAY

I guess.

REMINGTON

Wack.

(pauses)

Still don’t get why that causes pain.

JAY

We’re humans. We’ve got a limited view of morality that’s shaped by our society. Our perception of “good” or “bad” is probably different than what ultimately is considered by the universe as “good” enough to give a soul a human life. And...some of my voices have views of good or bad that are...incredibly outdated.

REMINGTON

(knowingly, slyly)

Ohhhh.

JAY

What?

REMINGTON

Your voices probably tell you to...ah...hee hee.

JAY

(more frustrated)

What?

REMINGTON

To, ah,

(pauses)

Pray the gay away —

JAY

God.

REMINGTON

They detect your sinful lusty thoughts about the incredibly attractive woman sitting across from you and go “oh, no, dear Janette —“

JAY

Oh God.

REMINGTON

Yeah, don’t pretend I didn’t hear that! “Oh, Janette, you mustn’t! Thinking about holding hands before marriage was already stepping on the line, but this? Oh! Unacceptable!”

JAY

No.

(pauses)

Though in a weird way, you’re on the right track.

REMINGTON

Ha!

JAY

Not like that.

(pauses)

It’s a lot of things, combined. See, I, ah,

(sucks air through teeth, evidently uncomfortable)

don’t fully identify as female, I think. I mean, I use female pronouns, but...I don’t know. I don’t fucking know because I don’t have room to figure out who I am. Don’t even have my fucking brain to myself. It started when I was a kid, but, throughout the years, it’s just gotten worse and worse and now — they just...scream at me. And it’s fucking loud. It’s so fucking loud.

(7. Bad Luck.)

JAY

IF I THINK I’M SOMETHING OTHER THAN WHAT I’VE TOLD THE WORLD I AM,

I’VE GOT TEN VOICES TELLING ME OTHERWISE.

IF I DON’T EXACTLY STRIKE MYSELF AS A WOMAN OR A MAN,

EACH ONE OF THEM DOESN’T HESITATE TO PULVERIZE

WHATEVER CONCEPTION OF MYSELF I HAVE AN INKLING OF

THAT DOESN’T FIT THEIR TINY MIND.

YOU’RE LUCKY YOU HAVEN’T FREED YOUR VOICES YET.

YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE WHAT YOU FIND!

THESE TEN SUCKERS HAVE WASTED THEIR YEARS

LIVING LIKE BEES IN A HIVE,

TRAINED TO MAINTAIN THE SOUL’S PURITY.

WHAT A TERRIBLE WAY TO STAY ALIVE!

THEY’RE STUCK UP, SHITTY PEOPLE —

REMINGTON

EVEN JOYCE?

JAY

EVEN JOYCE.

YOU KNOW, IT FUCKING SUCKS TO BE A "CHOSEN ONE"

‘CAUSE IT JUST MEANS YOU NEVER GET ANY CHOICE!

THEY SAY "JAY! YOU’RE PART OF A LEGACY!”

“JAY! WITH YOUR HELP, WE’RE GONNA GO SO FAR!”

“JAY! THIS IS YOUR DESTINY!”

“C’MON, JUST PLAY YOUR TINY ROLE IN PRESERVING THIS SOUL.”

“JAY! YOU MUST STAY CLEAN AND PURE!

A HUMAN REINCARNATION WE GOTTA GUARANTEE!"

WELL, SORRY YOU GOT A HOST SO IMMATURE —

IT WAS YOUR BAD LUCK TO GET STUCK WITH ME.

AS A KID, I’D DO ANYTHING TO REBEL.

I’D STEAL SHIT AND I WOULD LIE.

I WAS A BIT OF AN ATTENTION WHORE, IF YOU COULDN’T TELL

AND I BET YOU CAN GUESS WHY.

TO PISS OFF THE VOICES, OF COURSE, JUST FOR FUN!

I’D NEVER REALLY BEEN FORGIVING.

THEY CALLED ME "ABOMINATION" SO I GAVE THEM ONE.

BEING AT WAR WITH YOURSELF’S A NEAT WAY OF LIVING.

OH, AND WAY BACK WHEN I WAS FOUR,

MY FATHER LEFT MY MOM AND ME.

HE THOUGHT I WAS A FREAK OR A BURDEN OR A CHORE;

MOST LIKELY, SOME COMBO OF THE THREE.

MY HOUSE GOT SET ON FIRE A FEW YEARS BACK

BUT THERE’S NO TIME FOR THAT STORY.

SUMMARY: MY MOM PERISHED IN THAT ATTACK.

IT WAS DEPRESSING AND A BIT GORY,

SO EVERYONE GOES

"JAY, WE’RE SO SORRY ABOUT IT!"

WELL, I DON’T NEED YOUR BULLSHIT APOLOGY!

AND DO YOU REALLY CARE HOW I FEEL? I DOUBT IT.

DREAM ON, YOU CUCK. YOU’RE FRESH OUTTA LUCK.

"JAY! YOU DIDN’T DESERVE IT!"

WHAT’S SAD IS I DON’T AGREE

NO ONE’S GOT THE GUTS TO ADMIT IT WAS JUST

THEIR BAD LUCK TO GET STUCK WITH ME!

I’M NATURE’S BAD LUCK CHARM.

STAY AWAY FROM ME, STAY AWAY FROM HARM.

UNLESS YOU’RE LOOKING FOR YOUR LIFE TO GET WORSE,

LEAVE ME ALONE.

I’M NATURE’S BAD LUCK CHARM.

STAY AWAY FROM ME, STAY AWAY FROM HARM.

YOU GOTTA TRUST ME ON THIS; IT’S LIKE A CURSE

SO LEAVE ME ALONE.

I’M NATURE’S BAD LUCK CHARM.

STAY AWAY FROM ME, STAY AWAY FROM HARM.

UNLESS YOU WANNA END UP A CORPSE IN A HEARSE,

LEAVE ME ALONE!

I’M NATURE’S BAD LUCK CHARM.

STAY AWAY FROM ME, STAY AWAY FROM HARM.

YOU GOTTA TRUST ME ON THIS; IT’S LIKE A CURSE

SO LEAVE ME ALONE!

"JAY! YOU’RE PART OF A LEGACY!”

“JAY! WITH YOUR HELP, WE’RE GONNA GO SO FAR!”

“JAY! THIS IS YOUR DESTINY!”

“C’MON, JUST PLAY YOUR TINY ROLE IN PRESERVING THIS SOUL.”

JAY! WHAT A FUCKED UP KID! ON THAT, EVERYONE CAN AGREE!

JAY! OH, I’M SORRY YOU DID,

BUT IT WAS BAD LUCK TO GET STUCK WITH ME.

(gesturing to REMINGTON, imitating her)

"JAY! DON’T YOU WANNA HANG OUT?”

“JAY! C’MON, LET’S GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER!"

(to REMINGTON)

CAN’T YOU GET MY SIGNS OR DO I HAVE TO SHOUT

“MOVE ON BECAUSE I’M JUST A WASTE OF YOUR TIME!’

"JAY, WHY ARE YOU BEING SO RUDE?"

I’M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU! CAN’T YOU SEE?

ANYONE AND EVERYONE I LOVE IS SCREWED!

IT’S ALWAYS BAD LUCK TO GET STUCK WITH ME!

#perfect times eleven #transcript #px11 #jay mazziotta #remington long #Rupert morello #daisy noxx #musical theatre #musicals #podcast

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