#which is what makes her believe hes not that bad and/or not too far gone
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tmagp 13 relisten notes!!
there are spoilers for episode 13 below the cut!
celia:
- admits to sam that she asked alice for advice and general information about him. this implies she has a pretty friendly relationship with alice (evidenced by alice buying her a mocha) and seems relatively unthreatened by her past with sam so far.
- "no one, im mysterious" -> evidence for her not being from this dimension, if no one can give a lot of information about her
- reveals jack is her baby! (not followed by a glitch)
- says the past couple years "since the move" (between dimensions?) were weird for her
- believes the incidents they work with are real, and im certain shes in the same boat as the audience rn, trying to categorize them with background knowledge that isnt accurate anymore
sam:
- easy to make blush, doesnt know how cute he is, is an overachiever, obsessive, a but repressed, nosy, kind of a recluse, and very easy to wind up
- gifted kid syndrome poster child; he seems to view being turned away by the magnus institute as the beginning of his rejection streak (not admitted to oxford, didnt get first, got fired from his legal firm). i think this will be a major point in his motivations and a fear of rejection and need for validation is going to drive him to receive the greatness he wants (and believes he has earned). i can already see a corruption arc brewing for him, poor thing
- did NOT tell celia about his experiences in the institute or what his "incident" was (referring to lena's interview where she asked him what the worst thing he's seen/experienced was). this isnt super sketchy considering its a first date, but is interesting since he was the one who wanted "all the baggage" out early
- he doesn't want to accept that the incidents are real, but i think he does believe in them. he brought the topic up to celia and has asked alice about it before too, so he may be aware that the incidents are real, but is unwilling to fully conceptualize what that means for himself and his world view
- says that alice doesnt love the idea of him seeing celia, which means he may have picked up on her feelings for him
gwen:
- feels guilty over instigating the mr.bonzo incident -> whats really interesting is that she doesnt threaten to quit or not be involved, she accepts that she gas another email to look through and another external to interact with, but it seems to upset her
- she asks lena why this (externals and mr bonzo murder) is happening, implying that she can stomach the work if its for a reason
lena:
- gives gwen the ABCs of genre-awareness:
- this dimension also has "opposing forces- most of them meaning to be harmful.
- these "forces" need to be "balanced" and controlled in order to maintain order in the world/system -> still working off of a smirke-esque theory that retaining balance will keep the world secure. i dont know if she means balance between forces of good and evil or forces in the supernatural sense
- says the OIAR is managing the bad guys, as in monitoring their actions and directing externals to "balance" things
alice:
- actually offended that sam doesnt want to share information with her and isnt having a good time knowing sam and celia are seeing each other
- tells sam "he cant prove anything" about the cases being real, but doesnt tell him hes wrong
- i would fling myself from a sky scraper for you, miss dyer, but please never say bussin or fire again
- "stop trying to make an impact" -> the more she tells sam to cut the x-files shit out, the more she stops protesting his suspicions. her scolding has gone from "nothing is going on, chill out" to "sure, theres a conspiracy, but we are paid to ignore it"
-
alice/sam's past:
- dated at uni, previously stated they were together for several years. it seems to have been a decent split since they stayed in contact afterward.
- sam was there for her when her parents died, but lost contact after
- she contacted him w the OIAR job details after he made an exceptionally pathetic vague post
incident:
- centered around gambling and self harm to achieve success- this draws ties to episode 2 (self harm) and episode 9 (luck). i expect this is more aligned with ep 9, as the self harm seems to be in the interest of changing his odds/luck, and the incident is primarily about gaining external success, not physical change. though, ep 2 could be a personal experience with ink5oul that is not representative with their "force"
- the narrator of this statement was quick to actively sacrifice his own well being to achieve better luck, which is a pretty stark contrast to other people who looked to harm other people in their own interest (violin guy and dice guy, i forgot their names sorry!!)
- zorro trader may be a reoccurring organization in relation to gambling
- the narrators options for his debt were to either pay it back or have a personal adjustment, once he completes the voicemail he is transferred to the adjustments apartment, which was not an option on the original call log and something he did not request
- he is promptly adjusted :)
- i think this could be related to the theme of keeping balance, since the incident narrator claims it isnt wrong to play with the loophole, and it ends with him getting what he owes, which is a nice connection to lena's explanation of the OIAR's purpose
glitches/lies:
- "im happy you're happy", alice (she is not happy that sam is with celia!!)
extra comments:
- i really didnt expect an explanation of the OIAR and its position in this so early, and im surprised lena was the one to reveal it. this exposes that shes pretty open with the staff she feels are on a need-to-know basis, and it also changes my expectations for how we'll come across a big reveal in this series, since information is being given in a more open way
- i think alice and celia definitely know something but in opposing ways- acting as foils to each other with sam (information seeker) in the middle. celia knows about how the fears work in the tma dimension, and alice knows why and what the OIAR are really doing- together, they solve the puzzle that sam is trying to piece together.
#tmagp#the magnus protocol#tmagp spoilers#tmagp 13#alice dyer#sam khalid#celia ripley#gwen bouchard#lena kelley#tmagp theory#tmagp thoughts
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AU Asami is Amon by nikoniko_808
Give me the forbidden enemies to lovers Korrasami
Okay I wrote up my own au of Asami as Amon
Hiroshi and Asami witnessed the death of Asami’s mother at the hands of the Red Lotus society. Asami swore revenge on all benders. The corruption of Benders has gone too far and Asami and her father cannot let it continue. So they create a movement. The Equalists. Near the end of season 1. Asami would be nowhere to be seen. The Krew believes the Equalists have kidnapped Asami and when Korra confronts Amon, they don’t see her.
Tarrlok is still captured by Amon, when Korra sees him and they chat, he tells the whole story of Amon as it happened in the show to her and everything. Like it goes in the show. Korra and friends go to confront Amon at the arena where Tenzin and his family are about to lose their bending. But they don’t because she gets there in time. She accuses Amon of being a bender, as per Tarrlok’s story. Amon doesn’t unmask. And he isn’t a bender. Tarrlok lied to get Korra to confront Amon so that he could capture her and he could hopefully save his own skin for the service at least. They fight. Amon takes Korra’s bending in a big demonstrative way. So all the crowd can see what comes to any benders, especially The Avatar who stand against him. Then the reveal happens. Asami is Amon.
In order to get her bending back and learn how to give others their bending back (yeah, Korra wouldn’t get it back at the end of Book 1 because consequences? What’re those?), Korra has to go on a quest to learn her bending(her masters would be Toph, Katara, Izumi and Tenzin) in the Spirit World to understand everything. Korra does not cry about loosing her bending because she realized she’s still The Avatar and has to go to The Spirit World to get her bending back, to help everyone get their bending back and stop Asami
Throughout the series, we would meet Kya, Bumi, Izumi, Eska, Desna(Eska and Desna would be Korra’s siblings in this universe, because fuck Unaloq) Opal and Kai. We have the same romance between Bolin and Opal and Jinora and Kai. We would also meet Varrick and Zhu Li, because they are comedy gold. They would all help in the fight against Amon and the Equalists.
In Korra’s venture to the Spirit World,
she would still see Wan’s story(because that’s the only thing I liked about Book 2) and I think in her journey in the spirit world she would see Asami’s story, in which her family were victims of the Red Lotus society and Asami learned to take bending away in the spirit world. Not only that, we would find out that Asami would be bonded with Vaatu. Asami is the darker Avatar.
Before she leaves The Spirit World she connects with all her past lives to ask what she should do about Asami. Korra has her Aang moment where she has too has to decide what to do like he did with the fire lord, only this time there’s more to it than just stopping the bad guy. It’s about the person she loved. She can restore everyone’s bending by reversing Amon’s convergence, but she can’t do that so long as the avatar spirit is split. And as long as Asami is part avatar, she can go into the avatar state. That’s still pretty damn dangerous even with only water and blood bending. Korra realizes the only thing she can do to stop Asami? Love her.
After her journey to relearn her bending and journey in the spirit world, Korra travels the world to gain allies. From the Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, Water Tribes and Air Nomads. Korra unites the world against Amon and the Equalists.
In the final fight, Korra defeats Amon. She exorcises Vaatu from Asami, thus ending the dark Avatar and stopping Amon’s convergence. She reverses what Asami has done and uses it to restore everyone’s bending. So she has to come to the hard part. Amon makes it clear, no matter what, even without the ability to energy bend or without Vaatu, Amon will never stop, Benders will never be safe. Korra shows Asami what she was denied. Korra loves her and forgives her. Asami gives up and accepts whatever punishment.
During Book 3, Asami would work with Korra in stopping and killing the Red Lotus society. However, when Zaheer is stopped. He is left at the mercy of Asami and for everything he’s done and turned her into. Asami kills him.
Book 4 happens. Asami’s redemption is rebuilding Republic City and using Future Industries to repair the damage she’s done as Amon. Blah blah blah Korra stops Kuvira blah blah. Asami earns her redemption and the love of Republic City, the krew and more importantly Korra. Ends with Korra and Asami venturing in the Spirit World and ends with a kiss.
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Alastor + apprentice!child!reader
A/n: this is some practice to get a footing in his character. (Also slight practice on husk as well.)
Reader is kinda scary but means well overall
Not proofread
Y/n ever elusive. Alastor would randomly mention your name in conversations. References your rampages and your sweetness in the same breath. But when anyone would try to quiz him on you further he would act like he didn't know what they were talking about. He might try to claim it's for privacy but it's pretty obvious he just likes messing with hotel members.
Charlie was especially sad that she might never get to meet you. If Alastor was to be believed you seemed really sweet! (And easy to rehabilitate *cough* *cough*) Also cool! You seemed to be an absolute powerhouse. After Al mentioned you Charlie got somewhat mopey. Until he mentioned you visiting the hotel, which piqued everyone's interest.
When you finally showed up, people's interest was at an all-time high. But now it was because the fabled y/n was a child. "It's a pleasure to be meeting everyone!" You were looking at Alastor but were speaking to the whole room. "I've heard so much about all of you!"
"They've also heard much about you too, dearie." Alastor bent at the waist down to your level. "You've become quite the hot topic here!"
As if to prove his point Charlie picked you up and spun you around almost hitting Alastor in the face. He glared at her but remained calm. "Welcome, welcome! Do you want to choose a room to stay in?"
"Sorry, but I'm not planning to stay."
"I know but just for the time being." Charlie clarified. To that, you nodded. Husk snapped his head toward The Radio Demon once both you and Charlie had left.
"Did you really stoop low enough to make a deal with a child?" He was just barely containing his anger. While he didn't particularly care for those he didn't know at least somewhat personally, taking a child's soul was a place he drew a thick line.
"Why of course not!" He said sounding offended but clearly, it was to mock Husk. "They are under my guidance purely by choice!" Vaggie and Husk both said some version of 'you're a liar' in unison. Alastor simply tsked as he walked away.
Niffty seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Was thas thay y/n?"
After the crew (excluding Husk) let out a yelp, Vaggie spoke, "Yep."
Niffty let out a villain-esque laugh, though that was just her usual laugh, "I've been meaning to talk to them since they scared off a group of bad boys~" She flashed her sharp teeth and held a knife. Angel grabbed the knife and her before she could get very far.
Back with you and Charlie Alastor materialized next to you and you waved at him.
"Hello, sir!" You saluted him as a joke.
"Hello to you too! Have you found a room?" You nodded and entered said room. Charlie looked at him, her face painted with a confused yet kind look.
"They're the one who hurt so many people? Are you kidding? They are so nice."
"You've never seen them in danger." Suddenly as if on queue an explosion was heard. You shot up from your surprisingly comfortable bed and ran downstairs. Pushing both Charlie and Alastor out of the way while also throwing a quick ‘sorry’ their way.
Once you got downstairs the bad boys that Niffty mentioned earlier were spouting something about you. Once they looked at you they pulled weapons out. You grew and your arms turned pitch black with a slight claw shape. With your new size, you were just big enough to grab them to the point of almost cracking bones. Almost.
"Leave." You said with a deep booming voice that came with the size. You threw them and they scrambled. Once they were gone you shrunk back down to your normal size. Niffty pouted and stamped her foot.
Once you turned everyone had varying looks of shock on their face except Niffty and of course, Alastor who was instead proud. "Congrats dear! Would you like some jambalaya?" You nodded.
As you were walking with him Husk grabbed your shoulder, "Um good job kid... If he ever offers you a deal, don't take it." He felt obliged to warn you. If Alastor's moral code was against recruiting kids, he probably would have pounced on the opportunity to take your soul once you were an adult.
You smiled, "I know I know. But what could I even gain out of any deal with him?" You laughed and walked back to Alastor. Huh. Well, you certainly were being tutored by Alastor.
A/n: Y/n got kinda of edgy at the end-
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The Younger Kind Part 13 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: When Bradley sees Meredith again after so many months, he is filled with a range of emotions. He wonders if he has done enough for Noah on his own. His primary mission in life is to be the best dad, the one Noah deserves, and he has to be honest about how that is going to affect what he has going on with you.
Warnings: Angst, smut, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)
Length: 3700 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more!
Bradley was up early. He'd barely slept anyway, but that wasn't entirely Meredith's fault. He had been scrolling through all the photos of you that he had saved on his phone, and he even considered calling you well past midnight.
He had a bad feeling. Meredith had never gone this far before. Last year and the year before, she had simply called Bradley, begging for an update about Noah around his birthday. And once he had sent her some updated photos, she briefly bugged him about custody, and then she had vanished again. But now he felt like he had made things so much worse by ignoring her calls for so long.
"What the fuck," he muttered as he got dressed. Meredith had followed you and Noah to the damn park! He wanted to believe that she wouldn't intentionally do any actual harm, but she obviously spooked you. Since you had no idea what she looked like, your reaction had been to put Noah's safety first.
Every time Bradley thought about you protecting his child, he got a warm feeling in his chest. Simply thanking you wasn't enough; he wanted to hold you and Noah and spend hours explaining it to you. Then maybe he could understand this feeling better himself.
But you got hurt in this mess that Bradley had helped create. And he needed to make it better if he could.
There was a light knock at his front door, and he went to answer it as he zipped up his jeans. "Hi," Nat whispered, giving him a tight hug as he let her inside. "What time is she coming?"
"I have no idea," he replied miserably, and Nat rubbed his back for a moment. When Bradley called her last night, she agreed to watch Noah while Meredith came by. He wanted to find out what Meredith wanted before he let her see Noah.
"Okay, well, I'm free all day. I'll take Noah with me back to my place, and you can just call me after Meredith fucks off."
Bradley nodded.
"And if Meredith doesn't feel like fucking off," she added, "I'll make her."
Bradley couldn't help but grin down at her. "Thanks, Nat. I'll go wake him up."
Once he had played another round of musical car seats, Bradley waved as Nat pulled out of his driveway with Noah and a stack of coloring books in tow. Of course the coloring books were ones that you had brought over when you came to babysit or just spend time here, and now Bradley was itching to call you.
Instead he messed around with his coffee maker and brewed a vanilla latte, just the way you liked it. He was still sipping it and thinking about how much he loved the way you looked in his house when another knock jarred him from his thoughts.
He abandoned the coffee on his counter and went to the door once again. "Meredith," he said with no emotion as the tall blonde pushed past him and into his living room.
"Bradley." Her expression was smug as she looked around; it had been years since she was here, and very little had changed. But Bradley did see her eyes catch on some of the artwork you and Noah had made for him which was hanging on the far wall. "Where's Noah?"
"He's not here," Bradley replied, tucking his hands in his pockets.
She turned back to him and glared. She had always been beautiful but haughty. "I don't want to see you. I want to see him."
Bradley didn't waver. "You specifically told me on the phone that you wanted to talk to me in person. So let's talk."
"Fine," she said cooly, dropping down onto his couch. "But next time we set something like this up, I want him here too."
Bradley almost laughed in her face as he sat too. Next time? Over his dead body there would be a next time. Noah didn't know who his birth mother was, and Bradley wanted to keep it that way. Bradley grew up without a dad, but under very different circumstances. Meredith had a track record of being nonexistent, and Bradley didn't want that for his son.
"Where is he?" she asked, sharp eyes on him.
Bradley sighed. "He's being well taken care of, Meredith."
"By your babysitter?" Then she said your first and last name, and Bradley felt a chill wash over his body.
"How do you know her name?" he grunted, clenching and unclenching his fist in his lap.
"It wasn't hard to find out after I got her license plate number. She's a nursing student at the University of San Diego, Bradley. A mere child," she said, shaking her head sadly.
Bradley's heart was pounding. Meredith knew who you were, and she wanted something from him. "Did you scare my babysitter on purpose yesterday?"
Meredith laughed, head tipped back as she placed her hand over her heart. "Are you really going to keep calling her that, Bradley? She's obviously 'babysitting Noah' because you're messing around with her. Your little booty call. And she looks like she is all of eighteen years old."
"She's twenty four. And don't talk about her like that," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "Don't."
Her eyes lit up. "So it is true. I was just making an assumption, going off a hunch. She's cute, so I'm not surprised at all. But I don't think they are going to take too kindly to a father who is busy fucking the babysitter. One who is basically half his age, at that. A father who is distracted. A trashy, young babysitter who is sleeping with someone over a decade older than her."
"Meredith," he growled, trying his hardest to stay calm, but he was seething now.
"And you let that trash around our son, Bradley. A glorified slut, making money and getting laid while she's at it. And that's not even taking into account that you're still in the Navy. You leave Noah with random friends of yours every time you're deployed, none of whom are his legal guardian. None of them can make decisions in an emergency. You lack any and all stability." She was completely calm as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sighed. "No, they will not like that at all."
"What the fuck are you getting at, Meredith?" And then Bradley noticed for the first time that she brought a fancy looking leather bag with her, out of which she procured a manila folder.
"This should spell everything out nicely for you." She handed it to him, and he opened it and skimmed through a stack of papers. His heart rate grew steadily faster until it was getting hard to breathe. It felt just like the first time he hit 8 G's. He was going to throw up. Bradley could feel the bile rising in his stomach as the panic truly set in. His insides clenched as he looked at her.
"You want custody."
"Full custody, yes. I have a lawyer. A good one."
He closed the folder and tried to hand it back to her, but she pulled her hands away and stood. "You can keep that," she said with a smirk. "I made several copies."
Bradley stood as well, and got in her face. "No judge in this entire state is going to award you custody of Noah. Not after the shit you've pulled."
She shrugged and headed for the door. "Lucky for me, you've pulled your own shit. We'll just have to wait and see who sounds more believable."
His heart was thudding, and his ears were ringing. "You abandoned us, Meredith! You haven't paid a single penny for anything in nearly four years, and Noah doesn't even know who the fuck you are!"
As she turned the knob, she looked back at him and said, "Abandonment is a strong word, and you can't prove anything. And may I suggest you learn to keep your emotions in check? It will be good practice for the courtroom. And you need to keep that girl you're sleeping with away from our son. I won't hesitate to ruin her if I need to. You already forced me to go through her once, Bradley. I'll do it again with no remorse if I have to. Noah is my son. Just because that girl is fucking you, that doesn't give her the same rights I have."
"Do I need to get a restraining order, Meredith?" he called, but she was already walking out to her car with a little wave over her shoulder.
"Not if you want me to allow you to have visitation rights. Oh, and make sure you answer my calls next time, so we can prevent another visit at the park!"
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You were laying on your back porch in the sun, trying to finish reading your assignments for the following week. Every hour or so, your phone went off, but it was never from the only person you wanted to hear from. It was just a bunch of texts from Greyson, begging you to come over. He must be bored. It was probably too early in the day for him to get stoned, and you knew he was too lazy to look for another girl for the night. That was why he was bothering you now.
You squinted and turned your head away from the sunlight and thought about your ruined sunglasses, crunched up in the parking lot next to the playground. Bradley said he was going to call Meredith. You were so embarrassed; you actually ran away from Noah's mom. Surely she wasn't going to hurt either of you. She probably just wanted to see him, even if she did sound like a bitch when Bradley described her. But she was pretty. And probably just the right age for Bradley. Now you had a very clear image in your mind of exactly what he was trying to replicate when he was using the dating app.
You had a gross feeling in your stomach. You hated waiting like this. You were always waiting for everyone else. First you waited for Greyson to contact you whenever he wanted to see you. More recently you'd been waiting for Bradley to let you know where you stood with him.
When you decided you were hungry, you stood and went to your kitchen. You tore open a bag of Skittles as you looked through your refrigerator, but after you ate a handful, you left the rest on the counter and walked away.
When your phone rang late in the afternoon, you answered it as soon as you saw who it was.
"Bradley?" you asked softly, and you were met with a beat of heavy silence that made you want to cry.
"Hi. Any chance you can stop by later? Just for a minute?"
"Yeah," you replied, pacing the length of your small living room before curling up on your couch. "I can do that."
"I'll see you later."
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Nat kept Noah at her place for most of the day while Bradley had a good, old fashioned nervous breakdown. His best friend was good like that, and he didn't even have to give her any details yet. She just knew what to do without any prompting.
Bradley sat in the middle of Noah's bedroom floor and thought about everything he could lose if this didn't work out for him. He had a dresser full of Noah's little clothes behind him, and a closet full of Noah's toys next to him. He paid for everything for his child. And not that Noah was a burden on him in any way, but they never got any help from Meredith, monetarily or otherwise. But he could see how it would be impossible to prove she abandoned the two of them. And it probably didn't help that he never returned her phone calls or let her see him when she begged in the past.
She was a business developer. She made more money than Bradley. But he never went after her for a cent, because he knew he would rather have his son to himself than have to share Noah with someone who didn't really care about him.
So why the fuck did Meredith want to be involved now? It didn't make sense. And Bradley hated that he thought the worst of her at this moment, but he did. He just knew there had to be something he was missing here.
He laid back on the floor and fiddled with his phone, forcing himself to stop from calling you. He rubbed one large hand along his face and let out a sting of curse words. The fact that he wasn't sure if he would be able to protect his own son was making him anxious and scared. But he could protect you. He could save your name from being dragged through the mud. He could prevent you from potentially spending your time in a courtroom, from becoming collateral damage to Bradley's crime of falling for Meredith and getting her pregnant in the first place.
And Bradley knew he had to protect you, because he wasn't worth it. Getting messed up with him was not worth your time and aggravation. He just wished he had pumped the brakes a little harder, told you this was a bad idea and shut it down earlier. He should have never let it get physical. All the flirtation and banter should have been enough for him. He should have taken it for the ego boost that it could have been and moved on, pursued a woman from the dating app and stayed away from you.
It was already too late for him though. Because he knew how you tasted. He knew all the little noises you made when you were underneath him. He knew how good you looked in his clothes. He knew how much Noah loved you. And he fucking knew you loved his kid right back.
And now all of his baggage was coming back to haunt him.
"Fuck!" Bradley shouted. And then he scrolled through his phone until he found Tracy's number. It was a Saturday, and he hated to do this on the weekend, but what choice did he have?
"Hello?"
"Tracy? It's Bradley Bradshaw. I'm not sure if you remember me, and I'm sorry it's Saturday-"
"Bradley. Of course I remember you. And your sweet son. Noah, was it?"
"Yeah," he replied, running his hand over his eyes. He had taken Noah with him last year when Nat urged him to talk to a lawyer about setting up a will. They had also touched on the topic of a custody agreement, which Bradley had firmly told Tracy was something that wasn't necessary at the time.
"What can I do for you?"
"Do you remember our conversation about custody and parental rights for Noah?"
"Yes, I remember."
He sighed deeply. "I think I need to revisit that conversation."
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You changed into a cute sundress and packed up the three remaining coloring books and the pack of neon crayons you had for Noah. You added a bag of Skittles to your tote, and then you headed out to your car as tears prickled your eyes.
Your arm hurt a lot more today, and changing the bandages with your left hand had been challenging. You considered taking your first aid kit along with you and asking Bradley for help. But then you decided that getting over there and getting this over with was more important.
He must have spoken to Meredith by now, and while you weren't sure exactly what that meant for you, there was no doubt it wasn't good.
You parked in his driveway alongside his Bronco, and let yourself in the front door. It was late. Noah was probably in bed already. That was probably why Bradley asked you to come now.
"Hi," you whispered. He was sitting in the middle of the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, and he looked impossibly handsome as he glanced up at you.
"Hi," he echoed, his voice deep and raspy. You thought that maybe he wanted to add Princess to that greeting by the way his lips were silently working, but then he snapped his mouth shut.
You wanted to go sit in his lap. It was the only thing that would make you feel better right now, but you knew you shouldn't do it. And as you took a few steps closer to him, he stood, and you could feel the heat from his big body.
"Are you okay?" you asked softly. He leaned a little closer to you, like he wanted to kiss you. His hands were reaching for your hips, but you watched him clench them into fists and drop them to his sides.
"I think I will be," he replied, and you couldn't stand it any longer. You reached for his face, stroking his mustache as his eyes closed. And then you kissed him. And he kissed you back. Right before he took a staggering step away from you.
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The only thing Bradley wanted to do was get lost in your kisses and beg for you. He wished he could forget about everything that had happened after he fucked you at your place and left for work yesterday. Pretend Meredith wasn't a threat. But he couldn't keep pretending. That much was made clear when he spoke to his lawyer earlier.
After he stepped away from you, he cleared his throat and said, "We can't do this anymore."
You laughed humorlessly as you ran your fingers along your glossy lips. "Can't do what anymore, Bradley? What exactly have we been doing?"
"Messing around," he replied, keeping his eyes on your face. It was so much more than that though, and he felt like the biggest asshole in the world for trying to make you think he felt any differently. For trying to make you think he didn't care about you. "It was fun, but I need to take things seriously. For myself and for Noah."
You pressed your lips together and looked at the floor. "Did you and Meredith get back together?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
The thought of it made him sick. It made him feel outraged to even think about Meredith at all, let alone romantically. But if that's where your mind went, then so be it.
"We talked about it."
You gasped, but you didn't look at him. "You told me she abandoned you. And you think that would be best for Noah? Best for you?"
"I'm... not sure," he replied, wanting more than anything to collect you in his arms and take care of you. Kiss you. Be with you. But he couldn't protect you and do those things right now. Not after his conversation with Meredith, and especially not after speaking to Tracy. "But sometimes people change."
"You sound unsure," you said, looking up at him hopefully as tears collected in your eyes. "Why won't you give me a good reason? A solid reason?"
Bradley ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath, using his anger to hold back his own tears. "I can give you a whole list of reasons. Is that what you want?" You didn't respond verbally, but the quiver of your lips made him keep going. "You're too young for me. I need a woman more mature than you. Someone who would help me take care of Noah. Someone I could be in a real fifty/fifty relationship with. And not just with Skittles."
You sobbed, and he hated himself. But he kept going.
"You think you want this, but you don't. You're just a kid. You don't know what you want. But I can guarantee that me and all my baggage isn't it."
"I never said you had baggage-"
But he cut you off, shaking his head and saying, "I said it. So it doesn't matter what you did or didn't say. This is not going to work. I don't want this."
You had tears dripping onto your cheeks now as you looked up at him. Your pretty face was scrunched up in sadness or rage. Probably both. Because he was behaving like a dick.
Your shoulders shook while you cried. "Fine. I understand," you said through your tears. "I can't make you want me back."
He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, because you were the only thing he wanted right now. He had let himself indulge in his feelings for you, and now he was hurting you on purpose. And it was killing him.
"Can I say goodbye to Noah?" you whispered, swiping at your tears.
Bradley nodded, stumbling behind you as you walked quickly to Noah's room. He stood in the doorway and watched you gently brush Noah's hair away from his forehead as you sobbed. Then you bent to kiss his cheek and whispered, "I love you, Noah."
Bradley couldn't take it. He turned away and walked back to the living room. He broke his own heart, which he could eventually probably handle, because the outcome he wanted was important to him. He could come to terms with keeping you away from him. He knew you'd be better off without him in the long run anyway.
But he hadn't anticipated how much this was going to hurt his son. Maybe he had made a mistake.
When you walked back into the living room with your tote bag on your shoulder, you slapped Bradley's house key against his chest without looking at him. He fumbled and caught it before it dropped, but when he turned toward you, all he saw was the swirl of your dress as the door slammed shut behind you.
Bradley stood with the key in his hand, inhaling the smell of wildflowers as he listened to your car pull out of his driveway.
"Goodbye, Princess."
-----------------------------
Bradley, what did you do?! Hope you enjoy your babysitter fic which you help me write, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !
PART 14
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─── 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄
+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.7k | content: angst, an alternate ending for this fic: whole
notes: for @veraberaxx who requested for this !! i know some of you guys would’ve stayed with nagi okay <3 he’s such a precious one here
summary: sae rarely knows what he’s doing when he comes to you. and sometimes, by the time he figures it out, it’s all way too late and you’re too far gone.
sae remembers you better than he can make sense of. you, and every little thing you do.
how you overcook your eggs in the morning when he’s on video call with you. how you make his bad days so much better without even having to try because you’re the only person in the world who can make him laugh. how your hands feel against his cheeks when you’re admiring him in that cute way you do.
god, he misses you. and he’s never been able to understand why people constantly feel the need to be around each other physically until now.
a conversation that was supposed to be a pastime haunts him.
“you sure it’s what’s best for her though?”
sae blinked, having no clue what his captain was even alluding to. “what are you talking about?”
his captain sighed, leaning back against the door, crossing his arms. “i mean, she’s probably waiting for you right? to go home?”
of course you are. you’re always waiting for him. what was his captain going on about?
“are you ever going to?”
is he?
he finds himself stuck; he’s not sure. there’s the part of him that yearns for you, that wants you around, that wants to live somewhere where you can be by his side.
“i mean, i could ask her to move with me.” it was a valid option, right?
his captain shook his head. “dude, then what happens if you break up? she’ll have uprooted her whole damn life for you, moved away to some faraway place.”
it was something he couldn’t find a response to. and maybe now he’s regretting not having more experience in this field because what’s he supposed to do? he wants you, yes. he wants to make this work, yes.
but can he? he doesn’t fucking know.
sae’s horrible at this.
how does he do this? how can he speak normally to you after all the thinking he’s done? he wants to be with you, really. but how can he be when you’re so far away? when he doesn’t know when or if he’ll come back?
“sae, you there?”
he’s pulled back into the present when you call his name. he can’t even remember what you were talking about before he zoned out.
“yeah, sorry i’m here, was just tired,” he offers, aware that he’s been tired a lot lately. but you keep believing him, maybe because he is but not in the way you think.
physically, yes maybe. but it’s not something he can’t tolerate. but mentally? it’s the biggest toll he’s ever taken. and as much as he doesn’t want to, maybe he can’t keep doing this to you. can’t keep stringing you along with him, with his unsureness and his doubts.
“i- look, i-i know it’s hard but we can—”
fuck, this is way harder than he thought it’d be. hearing your voice crack is enough to make him lose his mind. which is why he does this swiftly, can’t have you swaying his heart when he’s made up his mind.
maybe he should’ve chosen a better timing to break up with you than in the locker room right before his next game. it’s stupid, yeah, but he knows if he doesn’t get it done now he’s just going to delay it until he doesn’t even want to do it anymore.
sae’s phone vibrates right after he hangs up, and he feels his heart breaking into pieces reading your message.
you don’t want me anymore, sae?
he does. he really does. but he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with this, with himself, with you. he really wants to keep you forever, but he can’t.
maybe it’s pathetic. and maybe it’s an excuse. but maybe if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.
he hopes it will be.
it’s stupid, stupid, stupid. it’s so fucking stupid.
sae does it anyway.
he types nagi seishiro into the stupid google search because just who is this guy, anyway? he’s a little peeved about having your stories with him pop up all the time.
“just don’t watch it, stupid.”
“fuck off, rin.”
as if it was that easy.
scores of articles pop up in his phone, all relating to how nagi seishiro is soccer’s next top genius or upcoming star player. sae feels a scowl on his face as he presses into one of the article headers—nagi seishiro, bachelor no more?
and there it is, a picture of you and nagi walking down the street, hand in hand and sae wants to kill himself right now. nobody else is supposed to be intimate with you like that, and he had thought he knew what he was signing up for when he broke up with you so evidently he thought wrong.
but he isn’t given any time to heal a broken heart, and he thinks he deserves it anyway because it’s his fault that the both of you are where you are in the first place, so maybe he’ll just have to keep on living like this, with half his heart displaced and his devotion always wavering.
sae’s almost sure he can keep this game up—this game of ignoring your existence. it’s the only way he’ll make it out of this alive. but one day he’s bound to slip up.
and that happens to be tonight, when he’s tipsy and forlorn.
your number’s the first one he calls as he sits on his balcony, admiring the view that’s pretty lacklustre without you in it. barely five rings and you pick up.
but it’s not your voice.
“hello?”
by his guesses, it’s nagi. sae has to look at the clock on his phone. it’s 10pm in spain, which means it’s 5am in japan—and nagi’s the one picking up your calls?
“um—”
sae’s rehearsed countless situations of what he might say when you picked up depending on your reaction, but how was he supposed to know someone else was going to pick up?
what the fuck is he supposed to say to your boyfriend?
“oh,” nagi says, voice fading away slightly before coming back. “you’re itoshi sae.”
“yeah.”
“y/n’s washing up right now,” nagi tells him, carefree. “want me to tell her to call you back?”
“no, that’s fine.” because there’s no need for that. because sae’s going to dig himself a hole and lay in it. you probably won’t be able to reach him.
nagi says okay, and sae thinks he’s about to hang up when he hears him ask a question, “do you still love her or something?”
“no.”
nagi hums, “you’re a terrible liar. why would you be calling her at this timing then?”
“wrong number.”
“still terrible.”
“okay bye.”
“wait—” nagi calls out just before sae hangs up and he pauses for a while. sae can hear you humming in the background before you fade away again. it’s torture, really.
“what do you want?” sae sighs. he’s tipsy and in no mood to talk to anyone but you.
cruel, cruel world.
“if you’re not done with her,” nagi sighs too, because both of them would rather be talking to you than each other. “maybe you should tell her.”
sae’s just a little taken aback because why is your boyfriend telling your ex to talk to you with such intentions?
“don’t get me wrong, i’m taking better care of her than you ever did,” nagi says, getting on sae’s nerves, “but she thinks you hate her. and i really don’t like to see her sad.”
sae feels his heart dropping to the ground.
“i’d like to tell her that you’re so in love with her that you’re still calling her at 5am, but i’m not gonna.”
“you’re weird.”
“maybe,” nagi compromises, “but at least i’m not the stupid one who let her go.”
after a long pause, nagi resumes, “it’ll be too late soon if you don’t speak up.”
and then all sae can hear is the dial tone, and all he can feel is misery.
sae didn’t realise what nagi meant by it being too late if he didn’t speak up soon. that’s why he’s now running across the airport like a madman, it’s why everyone and everything drowns into the background, like they’re half-muted and swirling together.
in his bid to forget you, he’s been avoiding going on social media at all. he’s gone complete radio silence on everyone except for his teammates. he’s been so far less of himself that even his own brother is tired of trying to reach out to him.
it’s been several months since then.
maybe it’s a cruel joke that’s playing on him now; the day he comes back online, the day he decides to take nagi’s stupid advice—you’re already engaged to him.
you’re about to become mrs nagi soon and sae’s really never going to forgive himself.
it’s funny how easily the realisation comes to him; how he can never get over you, how he should’ve never pushed you away. he wants your good morning texts and your goodnight kisses, your bad cooking because he’s worse at it. your laugh, he wants to hear it next to his ear while you’re both about to fall asleep. everything about you—he wants it.
and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing right now, he’s running on pure adrenaline. he’s not even dressed for a wedding—not in his black sweater and black slacks. but fuck this, he thinks, stealing a cab from someone else, he just needs to see you. has to.
it’ll be too late soon if you don’t speak up.
nagi was long ready to propose to you. he probably already had a ring by the time sae got up the guts to call you.
it’s 1pm and he doesn’t even know if you’ve said your vows yet. he can’t remember anything rin told him over the phone and now his brother isn’t even picking up. nobody’s posting anything online either, fuck.
doesn’t help that his cab driver’s a foul mouth with an equally foul temper.
“could you drive faster?”
“oh sure, why don’t i just tell all the traffic lights to make way for little prince over here?”
sae sinks into the seat. today is really not his day, but he’ll screw the universe before he lets it tell him that he shouldn’t be doing this.
it’s 1.23pm by the time sae reaches the church, and the tall black doors never looked more intimidating. it looms over him, and he’s almost afraid to open it. but he has nothing more to lose except for you—so he opens the double doors anyway, runs down the corridors until he’s at the right hall; and it’s too loud the way he flings the doors open, the way the silence rings in his head when everyone in the room turns to face him.
sae’s only looking at you though, and even from this distance he can see your gaze fixed on him—like how everyone else’s is—and then the hushed whispers start to come but he doesn’t care for that. he catches rin in the crowd too, wide-eyed and with that what the fuck are you doing stare.
it’s clear that sae has no clue what he’s doing, why else would he be crashing a wedding he wasn’t even invited to? but his gaze turns back to you and sae freezes in the middle of the aisle, cheeks and nose red from the cold and he can see the sorrow in your eyes as you hold nagi’s hands.
sae opens his mouth until he catches you shaking your head, and then he stops. that’s when you break his heart to save him the further humiliation.
you turn back to nagi and smile the sweetest sae’s ever seen you smile.
“i do.”
sae would’ve already gone home if rin hadn’t stopped him. he would’ve been on the first flight back to spain by now but instead he’s here, at your wedding reception, entertaining rin’s friends.
“not my friends,” he grumbles, but it sure seems like it.
entertaining these guys isn’t his first choice, but he supposes it’s much better than watching the videos they’re playing of you and nagi’s time together up until now.
“hey, can i borrow him for a while, you guys?”
it’s cruel how you ask him to follow you, how you invite him to the dance floor. how he has to put his hand on your waist and know that it’s not leading to anything more, that you’re not his and you never will be.
“so, what do i owe the pleasure of you gatecrashing my wedding?”
you look beautiful. you smell pretty. you’re everything he wants.
sae doesn’t answer. you already know it anyway.
“sei told me,” you say, still not looking at him. “about how you called at 5am that one time.”
“oh, did he now.”
“mhm,” you nod your head and sae catches a whiff of your shampoo. his favourite. everything about you is his favourite. “you know, i wanted it to be you.”
sae looks confused and you chuckle, and god how he’s missed hearing that. “i dreamed of us being the ones to say i do, for a long time actually.”
he doesn’t know what to make of this, doesn’t know why you’re telling him all of this. he especially doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s the same for him.
“lucky for you it’s not me, then,” he chokes out, looking across the room at nagi, who nods at him. sae thinks that at least you ended up with someone who really seems to care about you.
you laugh nervously, “yeah, lucky me.” you’re soft, like you’re not convinced, but sae knows better than that. you’d never go through with it if you weren’t sure.
but she thinks you hate her. and i really don’t like to see her sad.
“i don’t, by the way.”
for the first time now, you look at him. “huh?”
“i don’t hate you, i never did,” sae explains, painfully aware that this is neither the time nor place but he doesn’t think he’ll ever see you or talk to you again so it’s now or never.
and you smile, and he loves that. loves you.
“how’s he treating you?”
“sei?” you turn to look at your husband, grinning from ear to ear when you see that isagi and reo are messing about with him. “he’s perfect.”
sae begs to differ. you are, that’s all he knows.
“good then.”
“what, are you planning to beat him up if i said no?”
“no,” sae scoffs. “but i’d steal you away.”
for a moment, your head lays on his chest and the way his heart beats brings you back to the present, to the fact that sae is someone from the past and he should stay there.
“so what now, itoshi sae?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him, an invisible line drawn between the both of you.
sae shrugs, and he knows what time it is. “back to spain, back to soccer, i guess.”
no longer back to you.
he now has an answer to his captain’s question.
“i’ll see you around, itoshi sae.” (you think you’d still have to watch his games when he plays because seishiro watches them. even if he says it’s a little disturbing that the one doing so well is your ex-boyfriend.)
“are you ever going to?”
no, he can’t go home anymore. it doesn’t exist.
sae nods. and he manages one last smile, a subtle one, a soft one, the one you’re so familiar with, the one you’ve been missing all this time. you press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling.
sae remembers you, and every little thing you do. especially how you manage to slip away from him, the only love he ever knew.
“sayonara, y/n.”
#itoshi sae x reader#bllk x reader#sae x reader#blue lock x reader#sae itoshi x reader#itoshi sae angst#sae angst#itoshi sae imagines#itoshi sae x you#itoshi sae x y/n#sae x you#sae x y/n#sae itoshi x y/n#sae itoshi x you#blue lock angst#blue lock imagines#૪ aeri’s fics !
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Courted by the Dragon
Chapter 12 - Storm Chaser
Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.
Masterlist
The day truly began with the arrival of a scroll.
You were sitting to breakfast, and your sisters hurried to receive it, while you lingered in the background, spreading damson jam onto a slice of toasted bread.
You expected the scroll to be another invitation from Helaena, yet as Maris brought it to the table, you could see that the wax seal was black, embossed with the same Targaryen sigel as your note from Aemond.
In fact, the only difference between the scroll you’d received last night, and the one delivered this morning, was the name written across the front.
Maris Baratheon.
You get an instant bad feeling, which is only made worse by the look on her face as she unfurls the scroll, and a handkerchief flutters to the ground.
"Your favour!” Cassandra exclaims, bending quickly to retrieve it, and she’s right. It is Maris’ favour.
Bright golden marigolds are still delicately stitched into the shape of a heart, but the fabric is pristine, as though it’s been carefully laundered to remove all trace of human touch.
You can’t help but think of your own favour, dusty and ruined, but held so fiercely in Aemond’s hand.
“What does it say?” Cassandra asks, leaning in to look, but Maris shifts away so she can read in silence, her eyes quickly scanning the words, her brow creasing with every passing moment.
This can’t be good, you think, and your toast slips onto your plate, as you try to imagine what had been going through Aemond’s mind when he’d put pen to parchment this morning.
Asking for Maris’ favour had been bad enough, returning it was a thousand times worse.
Did he really know nothing when it came to women?
After her second read through of the scroll, Maris scrunches it lightly in her hand before laughing sharply and smoothing it back out to read a quote.
“Prince Aemond wants to ‘ thank’ me for my favour, and for being a ‘ dear friend to Helaena. ’ But does not wish for me to think he had ‘ any intentions’ beyond ‘honouring a friendship’ with his sister . ”
There is a long pause. An uncomfortable pause.
All those books and he really did know nothing .
“I’m so sorry, sister,” Cassandra console’s gently, reaching to offer a compassionate hand for Maris’ shoulder. But Maris explodes before Cassandra can touch her, thrusting the parchment into your face.
“This is all your fault!”
“My... fault ?” you stutter, feeling that it is, in fact, all your fault though not for the reasons she believes. You’d told him not to toy with her, but you hadn’t told him to do this .
“You are always so rude to him! To everyone! Is it any wonder nobody likes you?” she pauses, tears streaking her cheeks and, perhaps she’s wondering if she’s gone too far, yet she doesn’t stop.
“You didn’t even bother to come to the hall last night. Did you even bother to give him the remedy? Or was that too much to ask when all you’ve done all summer is hide in your room?”
“I gave it to him,” you say, your voice no more than a whisper as you try to ignore the sting of her words.
“And then what?” she demands.
You look at Cassandra, hoping for a port in the storm, but she’s waiting for your answer with as much interest as Maris.
So, you shrug and pick up your knife to add even more jam to your toast, though you can’t imagine eating it now. What you really need is time to think, to decide what to say, because what happened after you gave him the remedy will really make her mad.
Still, it is the truth, so you say it as plainly as you can without going into too much detail, or mentioning the part where Aemond had threatened every man in court who had any interest in pursuing your hand.
“I gave his grace the remedy... and the queen asked if I might stay a while to keep him company. So we had a glass of wine and played a game of Cyvasse.”
“You. Played. Cyvasse? And you did not think to tell me this until now? ” she waves the parchment around in the air as though it is a weapon, and the look of betrayal is clear on her face. But you’re growing tired of protecting her feelings from the truth.
Maris was not the only person in this family.
What of your feelings?
What of your torment these past few weeks?
You straighten yourself in the chair, meeting her temper with more steel in your voice, “I was sleeping when you returned last night, and what difference would it make? It was just a game, it had nothing to do with you and, to be perfectly honest, I think you would hate every moment of Aemond’s company if you spent any amount of time actually speaking to him.”
“We have spoken,” she says defensively, but polite conversation was not real conversation.
You stand, scoffing, “then you must know he is insanely arrogant, ridiculously competitive, completely insensitive and possesses not an ounce of chivalry. He spends almost all his free time reading, which you hate, playing Cyvasse, which you also hate, and regarding everyone at court as though they are complete idiots.”
She tilts her head, her eyes narrowed as though she has come to some fresh conclusion, “are you certain you’re not describing yourself, sister ?”
“I am nothing like him!”
“Maybe you just want him for yourself then? Is that it? Was that your plan all along?”
You gasp, more than a little dumbfounded by the accusation, “are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, and you seem to know an awful lot about a man you claim you do not like.”
Clenching your hands into tight balls, you’re annoyed that Maris is right.
You do know him; far more than you would want to know a man you despise as much as you despise Aemond Targaryen. But, more than anything, you’re annoyed that anyone could think, even for one moment, that you would ever desire him!
Yet , it’s your tone which now sounds defensive, "first you say I’m ruining your chances by being rude to him, now you’re saying I’m trying to steal him from you? Which one is it? Why don’t you decide before I tell you how stupid this entire conversation is.”
At that, you abandon your breakfast, your sisters, and your cloak, as you head towards the door and tear it open, leaving it to swing on its hinges in your haste to get away.
Seven Hells! You scream internally as you storm through the halls, the skirts of your dress kicking up with every stride as though they are trying to trip you.
You hardly thought it was possible to hate Aemond any more than you already did, yet you feel as though you could tear him limb from limb as you make your way towards the gardens, seeking refuge in the long willowy stems of the blooms.
But, like everything else in this cursed Red Keep, all you find is disappointment, as the first careful drops of rain hit the ground while dark clouds gather for as far as the eye can see.
Knowing you should turn back, you press on. Hurrying along the gravel path to where a small stone folly is nestled among the fading summer roses.
It isn’t much, but it's enough to provide temporary shelter as the rain turns into a downpour. The promise of thunderstorms crackling in the humidity.
You’ve never longed for home more than you do right now. Even if Storms End had sometimes felt like a prison with her tall, dark walls; her dusty corridors had never felt quite so desolate as the bustling halls of the Red Keep.
If you were home, there would be no sisters standing guard outside your room, no courtiers to avoid and, more importantly, no dragon prince .
Stretching out your hand, you catch cool drops of rain in your palm, and can’t help but think of the beach. The thrill of the water rushing against your skin, the pull of the tide-
“My Lady?”
Startled, you turn towards the sound.
“Lady Baratheon?” Tyland Lannister says, as though you might be confused about who he was talking to in a garden emptied by the storm. Yet, you’re so surprised he’s speaking to you, you look around just the same.
“What are you doing out here?” he exclaims, his hair soaked with water as he strips his cloak from his shoulders before throwing it over yours without question.
You're too stunned to answer, but he doesn’t wait for you to say anything. He takes your arm, guiding you across the garden to where a little covered terrace offers far better protection from the elements and, beyond the door, you can see the chambers are decorated in the style of House Lannister.
He pulls out an iron chair from under an iron table and you sit, wishing you’d removed his cloak first, as he takes the other seat.
“It has been far too long since I’ve enjoyed your company,” he says, as though the whole thing wasn’t by some cowardly design.
You don't reply. You can’t exactly ask him why he’s chosen this precise moment to risk the removal of his manhood at the hands of Aemond Targaryen- but you do wonder it.
What has changed since you last spoke?
He'd seemed so afraid then and appears so relaxed now.
He even smiles when you meet his eye, his gaze scraping approvingly across your cloaked form as though he’s very satisfied about the current situation indeed.
Then he gestures for the servant, and she pours hot tea into delicate little cups while a long silence begins to stretch across the table, its length marked with every drop of rain which taps on the roof until he decides to speak.
“How long until you return home, Lady Baratheon?”
“Three days.”
“Only three?” he shifts in his chair, his hand clenched while his thumb brushes thoughtfully across his finger, “I hear the Stormlands can be quite unforgiveable come winter.”
You pick up your cup, “only to those who cannot withstand them, my lord.”
“Casterly Rock is always pleasant no matter the time of year. You would like it, I think.”
"My sister Cassandra would like it more. She loathes to be cold, but I could not find any pleasure in the summer if there was no winter to keep her in balance.”
“And how did you enjoy the tourney?” he asks then, flitting the subject to one he hopes you can agree on, and you suddenly remember all the reasons you were trying to avoid his company before Aemond intervened.
The rigid conversations, the fawning look in his eye, and the unspoken expectation of flattery and obedience.
“I detest tourneys,” you admit, and Tyland’s gaze widens, his teacup hovering just below his lips.
“I suppose they can be quite violent for ladies with such tender hearts.”
His words make you feel a little nauseated as you settle your cup back onto the table. “It is not my tender heart which finds them disagreeable, my lord, it is my objection to idiocy in the name of glory.”
Tyland frowns, confused by your honesty and seeming unsure on how to react.
He was supposed to ask if you liked tourneys, and you were supposed to smile and say yes, before agreeing with every other remark he decided to make. But you were in no mood to fake interest for the sake of propriety or to fake anything at all.
“My lady seems quite unsettled by the storm,” he decides with a small uncomfortable laugh, “perhaps you will feel more comfortable inside, where it is much warmer?”
You glance back into the room, where it is all red upholstery and golden lions, and get the distinct feeling that this could be your life, if you wanted it.
All you had to do was play the part you’d been born to play, and he would ask for your hand, and you would birth a little Lannister baby come spring.
It would be so easy. The Lannister’s were wealthy and powerful, so you could find endless comfort and safety in this golden cloak. But were you really prepared to settle for comfort because you were too afraid of a little storm?
Tyland was old enough to be your father, and boring enough to be completely harmless, but what was marriage without passion? Only duty, and all at once, you find you're not prepared to give your life away so readily in the name of that.
So, knowing it’s likely a terrible mistake to spurn the possibility of such an enviable match, you do it anyway.
“Please,” you stand, fiddling with the clasp of his cloak before it slips from your shoulders into a pile on the chair, “do not aim to speak with me again.”
Tyland stands too, his face even more perplexed than before, as you head back into the rain like a mad woman instead of a future Lady Lannister, and you feel not a thimbleful of regret.
Nor are you content. The downpour seems relentless, your dress growing heavier and heavier with every step you take as you trudge along the winding paths.
Yet even with the rain, you do not wish to face your sisters, and feel as though there is really no place to go except one .
The Crown Library.
~~~
Thank you for reading! This chapter was getting so long I had to split it into more manageable chucks but that means next chapter is all Aemond :D
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#ewan mitchell#romance#female reader#enemies to lovers#aemond targaryen x oc#prince aemond#slow burn
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I think there's a misconception among some fans who mostly get their characterisation from ao3, that the reason Cass and Jason wouldn't get along is that Jason kills people and Cass hates murderers. And like. You're 50% right but the key context being ignored is that Cass would literally fight to defend the right of a serial killer to live and change like she believes desperately in second chances no matter how far gone the killer is. She'll knock a man out and break his hand so that he can never shoot and kill someone again but if she sees someone feel bad about their kill or even like. Hesitate to hurt a child. She is all over that like she will fight the world just to save this one kind of shitty assassin and give them a second chance at life where they can do better.
Whereas Jason believes that sometimes there are bad people that are simply too far gone, too much of a force of evil hurting and draining actual innocents. And the best way to deal with scumbags like that is a bullet. He feels that some people don't deserve to live, and he's comfortable ending their lives. Judge, jury and executioner. Because no one else is going to kill these people and they deserve to die so that they can never hurt any victims again.
Of course all of this is kind of irrelevant in current canon since dc basically skipped over the reconciliation and development and went yeah Jason is a batfam member and he doesn't kill anymore. So currently in canon none of this conflict of ideals is likely to be addressed. But a lot of people are interested in writing fics that actually detail the steps of reconciliation which is great and I love those fics. I've just also noticed a trend of fumbling a little when it comes to Cass.
Because the root cause as to why they wouldn't get along is not just because Jason kills people. If Jason was a random crime lord Cass would probably try to help him get free of Gotham and start over somewhere else. Killing people and having conflicting emotions about it is the easiest way to get Cass willing to be your number one sponsor at murderer rehabilitation anonymous. It's Jason being someone personal to the family, and someone who believes that some deaths need to happen, as long as the person is sufficiently repulsive enough to Jason. Or even just as a means to an end to prove a larger point, if they're pathetic and evil enough. That's what would make Cass see red, because she projects herself on every single killer and Jason dismissing the possibility of redemption for them, writing them off as deserving of death, clashes fundamentally with not just everything Cass believes in, but also her whole sense of self. Of course it's not that deep for Jason like he's not going to believe Cass should die because she killed someone as a child. But for Cass is simply IS that deep and you throw in the fact that they're both Bruce's kids and yeah. They can maybe be civil in a room together with the family right up until one of them actually talks. Because like 99% of what they could say is guaranteed to touch a nerve for the other.
It's like: Damian says something hilarious and rude towards Jason and Jason jokes about that time he shot him and Cass immediately connects that with him not feeling bad about shooting Damian and starts grilling him as to why. Because Damian's Bruce's son? Or because he's a killer? Or just to get to the rest of the family? And Dick, Duke and Tim are so tired like Alfred cooked a nice meal can we all just eat pie for one night without having to listen to you two go at it.
Tim: I've literally shot you before do you think maybe we can cool it on fighting about Jason's personal ethics tonight. Because generally that ends with me in pain even if I do nothing but sit here.
Cass: You shot me with consent. Different.
Jason: How are you even more obnoxious than Bruce? Do you ever get tired of being so exhausting to be around with your bullshit righteousness?
Cass: If you're tired I can knock you out. Nice nap for you and fun for me.
Dick: And that's ten minutes in a room together before any threats of physical harm start flying around! Great job you two, a new personal record.
#dc#cassandra cain#batfam#dc rambles#jason todd#Ironically enough if Jason didn't focus on killing “bad” people#And instead was just a regular murderer with no greater point except Yeah I need this person to die as a means to an end#Cass is way more likely to look at him and go: Oh hell yes personal improvement project right here#Going up to Bruce like trust me dad he feels bad about killing that guy I saw his hand hesitate for 0.5 seconds before pulling the trigger#Whereas if Jason is like I'm killing this guy to prove a Point. The world is better off without him in it#Cass sees red like congratulations you triggered a solid 70 of her trauma buttons. Hope you like broken bones.
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# Fairytale - Yan!Mark Grayson x F!Reader
♡ ... › “Life itself is a most wonderful Fairytale.” - In which she comes to terms with a reality that doesn’t feel real.
── Words - 1.1K
♡ ... › Warning(s) - Graphic depictions of harm. Domestic abuse. Minor character death. Brief mentions of a panic attack.
── A/N - This is based off that version of Mark where he’s evil. No spoilers for that though! Think of this as an au of an au.
She figured the last of her friends were now dead as she watched their hideout burn from outside on the street, her knees bloodied from the concrete she slid on and her shoulder dislocated from the compact. Her friends didn’t scream – they were never given the opportunity to before he rigged the place to blow.
Opening her trembling fingers revealed a picture of herself from childhood. She stared into her younger counterpart's eyes, already knowing the way they viewed the world differed due to recent events. She lived in an apocalypse while her younger self lived every day as if it were a fairytale and she was the princess the story centered on. Except now there weren’t sparkly dresses or even flashier tiaras. Just death. Every street she walked on was a reminder of the kind of world she lived in with a dead body occupying every other mile. For a while, she was able to tell herself that despite all of this chaos, she still had people to keep her afloat and from drowning in all that grief.
But because of her, they’re gone now – dead from an explosion caused by her carelessness. They had warned her about going out and the risk she posed on their whole operation being found if she did. But Y/n had insisted she grabbed at least one piece of memorabilia before they hunkered down for an indefinite amount of time. If only she had listened. It wasn’t worth it, they were right. And she’d tell them as much if they were still around to listen.
She could only hope their deaths were quick and painless. But knowing Mark he would somehow find a way to draw out their ends in the worst way possible if only to prove a point to her. She found it hard to believe that a man she once loved was capable of such cruelty. It was as if a switch had been flipped the moment he and his father had that argument. The Mark she’d fallen in love with had become more rash, not at all caring about the consequences of his actions even if it meant those actions put her in harm's way. His new viewpoint on life was pessimistic whereas it was once optimistic. His trust in her had diminished into nothing and he’d become strict, not letting her do as she pleased if she didn’t have his permission to. He had explained that he’d made more enemies and that going out was dangerous since they most likely knew how much she meant to him.
After many arguments, she was forced to come to terms that the man she’d fallen in love with was gone. This new sinister version of her boyfriend contrasted too greatly with the sweet and selfless version she’d been in love with. All of the love that once warmed her chest lost its warmth and turned cold. Staring into Mark’s eyes no longer filled her with butterflies and instead made dread coil deep within her gut. Danger. Mark was dangerous, sure, she’d always known what he was capable of once he’d revealed his identity as Invincible. But she never once suspected that he’d use that power for bad – never once believed he’d use that power to make her life as well as others a living hell.
So she ran and never looked back. It had been a good six months since they last saw each other and she knew he’d find her eventually with all of the influence he now holds. She had just hoped he wouldn’t have gone this far and that the Mark she loved was still in there with all of that humanity that made him who he was.
Mark’s yellow uniformed feet landed in her peripherals, an eager skip to his step as he approached her and crouched down, his hand gently placed on top of her head. If she shut her eyes she could delude herself into thinking she wasn’t trapped in a nightmare and instead back to the time when everything was good in her life. When she was treated like a princess from a fairytale by the man who acted as her doting prince.
“Y/n…” He whispered lowly, his actions now mirroring that of an owner disowning their pet when his grip tightened on her hair. She winced, and Mark paid no mind to it. “Look where running got you.” She didn’t respond and Mark took that as his cue to continue speaking. “Aw, don’t be like that. Your friends were lucky to have survived this long, those who are part of the resistance die in worse ways than they did.” At the mention of your friends his tone turned ominous, a clear distaste apparent.
She tilted her head up so she was looking at Mark, mirth absent in a place where it was once believed to be forever stagnant. He showed no authentic sympathy for everything he’s done, though that should have been something she expected.
“You’re bleeding all over. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. I know someone who–”
She smacked his hand away and backed up as much as she could before her ankle was grabbed in a vice-like grip, Mark’s strength keeping her from moving any further.
“Y/n, you’re not going to make this any more difficult than you already have, are you?” He asked in that same sing-song voice, an obvious threat hidden underneath the tone that did not go unnoticed. She opened and closed her mouth, begging for her mind to get out of her thoughts but ultimately coming up empty. Mark made a noise of disapproval and grabbed onto her leg with both hands. “You’re lucky this is all I’ve done so far, I could have done so much worse by now.”
The crack her leg made when Mark split it in two was booming and was heard over the blood pumping in her ears and soon after she was screaming out in agony. Mark had his hand back over her hair, stroking it in downward motions as he hushed her as if she were throwing a childish tantrum.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” He said softly. “Now imagine this pain but worse then you’ll know exactly how I’ve felt all this time without you.” If she was frantic before then she was beyond that now. She shook her head back and forth, letting out incoherent words between sobs. Mark watched on with disinterested eyes and then grabbed onto her other leg. Y/n tried to wring her leg out from his grasp before he inevitably broke that one too. But her attempts were all futile. She had passed out from the pain not too soon after her legs were both broken and when she came back into consciousness she was being carried by Mark through the air. The burning sensation that encompassed her thighs down was now a dull throb in the back of her mind as she cried silently in Mark’s arms. The picture that had cost her friends their lives nowhere to be found.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere mark Grayson#yandere invincible#yandere mark grayson x reader#yandere invincible x reader
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❊ a night to remember - dazai osamu
. . you're a barista in the middle of a turf war. dazai is assigned to babysit.
the café you work at is nowhere near 'fantastic,' like the critics acclaim.
it's situated on a busy street corner, right next to an even busier airport. this draws an unfortunately large amount of new customers. you cringe thinking about the poor foreigners, unable or unwilling to purchase overpriced airport cuisine, who find refuge (and a meal) at your workplace. it must be an awful first experience in the country, you think.
despite the wealth your employers must've accumulated from an ever-rotating customer base, you don't think a single dime has ever gone towards improving the place. the outside seems nice enough, but the appliances are hardly functional. paint peels off the walls in the back, and the windows have long since been sealed shut. it gets way too hot in the summer. tables are rickety and every time someone takes a seat, you fear for their life. a small hole in the wall exists right by the entrance to the back, and sometimes when you go to close shop you hear skittering (which you pray is a mouse and not a ghost.) the good part about this, though, is that a little cat frequents your block around nighttime. she's the only reason you enjoy working at the joint, really, especially since it's open so unusually late, meaning you have to work stupid hours. who needs coffee and sandwiches at 10 at night?
you wonder how your shoddy little place of work has passed a single health inspection. you also wonder how you're still alive, because you're pretty sure that there is black mold growing in the storeroom. that, and the fact that you're all too often worked to the bone. your boss never does much, and your coworkers, though lovely people, take way too many sick days to be normal. you think the black mold may have gotten them. either that or they're lazy and love to see you suffer. more often than not, you're the only one working the busy café all day. that place would be a mess if it weren't for you, you like to believe.
it's an unusually slow night when the cat comes by to visit. she's a little thing, with a fluffy grey body and tiny white paws. her nose is a black button framed by white fur and long whiskers. you call her misty, like the character from pokémon.
you haven't gotten a customer in a while. you suspect it's because of the bad weather; your usual clientele of travelers are all seeking shelter within the airport, not daring to venture out quite yet. misty herself is dripping water all over the entrance of the café, but she's too cute for you to care. you walk out from behind the counter to pet her with the back of your hand. your skin comes away damp and covered in a thin layer of cat fur, which is a little gross but you've seen worse while working here. she meows. from your place by the door, you can see outside to the rain-soaked sidewalk. hard droplets of water pelt down like hail, staining the world a shade darker. you grimace, because there's no way you can walk home in this downpour.
"what do i do now, misty?" you stoop down to stroke the cat a little more. she purrs a little, and her long fur continues to stick to your hand in its dampness. nasty.
standing back up, you make your way to the back of the shop to rinse your hands in the sink. you aren't expecting anyone to come in at this point, not when it's this late, and not in this weather. you are proven very wrong when you hear the door creak open, and misty's meow before she scampers away to a far corner of the store.
plastering your best customer service smile on your face, you look up and move to the counter to greet the new arrival. you expect them to be a particularly brave traveler, and you imagine the mess of rainwater you'd later have to mop up off the floor. you are, however, pleasantly surprised by the sight of one of your favourite regulars. "oda!"
he's usually not in this late. but he gives you a small kind of smile as he closes the umbrella he holds and stores it in the designated area, bless him. you, to this day, wonder why he chooses to come to this raggedy little shop enough to be considered a regular. the coffee isn't that good, and the pastries are always a little dry, in your opinion. plus, it's just gross. maybe you're just a hypochondriac, though, because oda seems like a smart and sensible man who would not come to a café that would give him diseases. probably. you hope.
he's a kind, quiet person. you don't know much about him, if anything at all. he's got your name memorised and always greets you, and he tips well, and he asks about your day sometimes. you think he's sweet. maybe not smart, actually, if he keeps coming back. or maybe he's a health advisor coming to collect evidence to shut the place down— oh, you could only hope this is true.
misty, upon realising it's just oda, walks her little feet back over towards the entrance. the tall man bends over to pet the little cat, and for the first time, you catch sight of another person behind him. a boy. he's tall, or at least taller than you. but he doesn't look like much. a set of spindly limbs, bandages covering one eye, while the other is sunken and tired. a coat hangs loosely from his shoulders. you wonder if he's been eating enough. in a flash, though, his eyes connect with yours. it's brief, and awkward, and he stares straight into you like he can see through your skull into your thoughts. a shiver runs down your spine. he might look your age but there is something about him that tells you he has been around far too long, and seen enough for lifetimes. oda stands back up, cutting your view of the boy off. you readjust, trying to shake off the uncanny veil that's just descended on your little store. "your usual, oda?"
he smiles again. "please. thank you."
you dare look at the boy again. "and anything for you, sir?"
his gaze flickers back towards you. it's less heavy than before, but still, a force resides behind it. he hums and smiles. it seems hollow. you try to pay it no mind. "nope."
you nod briskly and go about preparing oda's drink. in your periphery, you watch the pair settle down by a table on the side wall of the shop, right against a big window. oda's back is facing you and you can feel his companion's eyes following your moves every so often. you try your best to ignore it, the way his eyes carry a pressure that drills into your skull.
it's 8:07 at night when oda gets a call. you aren't eavesdropping, but you don't miss the furrow of his brows and the vacancy that passes through his eyes. he'd probably leave soon. you purse your lips; might as well close once these two leave. they came in half an hour ago, and not a single soul had even passed out the door since.
sure enough, oda stands. he fishes around in his wallet for a crisp bill— another reason why he was your favourite regular, his tips never fell short— and gives you a polite, tight-lipped smile. the mystery boy follows suit. he doesn't spare you a glance, though, not until oda halts at the door as if something's just occurred to him. he turns back to the counter and calls your name. you look up from where you were wiping down some ancient appliances. "everything okay?"
he nods, and his head involuntarily falls to the side inquisitively. "how are you getting home tonight?"
you grimace. "i'm walking."
oda and the mystery boy exchange a look. you presume it's the heavy rain they're concerned about, so you pipe back in: "it's okay, though! i have a spare coat in the back. i think."
the boy gives you another look. like you're an idiot, like he knows something you don't. you'd wonder what was going on, but that was likely above your pay grade.
oda turns back to his companion. you hear them exchange words quietly, quiet enough to be drowned out by the rain still pouring outside. they are discussing far too intensely for it to be just about the rain. at the end of the spirited conversation, oda looks resolved, and the boy looks.. upset? disgruntled? he looks more his age, that's for sure. younger, even, like a petulant child. you would laugh if you weren't so on edge.
something is off. it's like the air in the shop has suddenly grown heavier by a hundred tons. it's suffocating. you are more excited than usual to close early and go home once these two finally make their exit. but then the boy sits back down. you fight the frown growing on your face.
oda is still standing. he takes the umbrella by the door and taps it against the entrance matt. clear flecks of rainwater fall down into the fabric like a small scale version of the downpour outside. he turns back to the boy, and then swivels to face you with a small, polite smile. "thank you for the drink. i hope you don't mind that my friend dazai is staying here for a while to avoid the rain."
you want to die. staying at your place of work for the next few hours until the official closing did not seem like an ideal night. mentally you mourn the night you planned to have when you got home early; goodbye to your cozy blanket, and warm bed, and movie and popcorn. but making coffee isn't that hard and you're basically paid to be nice and stay up late, so you just smile back and say, "no problem! we close at 10, and it'll probably have calmed down by then. probably."
oda nods and walks back out the door. misty meows at his heels, until he's out from under the overhang and gone from sight. faintly, you can see his silhouette blue-lit beneath streetlights, only if you squint. after a few beats, even the shadow of the man is gone.
you slump back down onto the counter, and then slide back up because you'd just cleaned it and now you'd have to do it again. a resigned sigh escapes past your lips, and you look up to see that the boy is looking at you. what was his name again? dazai? you somehow manage a nice-enough smile, looking back into his hollow eyes. he remains expressionless; it unnerves you, like a glass of cold water down your back. awkwardly, you begin, "do you... want anything to drink now? or eat? i'm going to have to throw all these out soon."
his heavy stare leaves you for only a second as you gesture vaguely to the display case of pastries. he looks like he considers it for a second before he smiles and says, "a chocolate croissant seems good!"
it's uncanny, the way the hollows of his eyes misalign with the tone of his voice. he sounds happy. he sounds young. but the way his joy is displayed is strange. it's a mirror. like he's only watched other people be kind and learned to imitate. as if he's pretending to be human. you can't look into his eyes anymore. instead, you turn to warm up the pastry without words.
when you move to bring the pastry to his table, you find dazai surveying the glass door, as if he is mesmerised by the rain still falling in heavy torrents. your plan is, originally, to slide the treat in front of him, smile and say nothing, and speedwalk away back to the counter and pretend to be busy cleaning until the stranger either a), leaves, or b), the rain stops and you can get out of here. however, it seems that misty has other plans. in a motion that you're sure she intends to be a show of affection and not a ploy to humiliate you, she runs in front of your legs and headbutts your ankle, causing you to trip over. you land with a less-than-gracious huff, and barely manage to pull yourself up from your stomach to your knees before you feel dazai's eyes back on you.
there is a small smile on his face, that creases his visible eye. you frown ruefully, and move to rise and apologize for the disruption. but to your surprise, he stands to help you up. his extended hand is slim. he has thin fingers, like wire, and a wrist wrapped in fresh, white bandages that show through his white button-down. his hands are just as cold as they look.
"graceful," he comments as he pulls you up. you purse your lips, choosing to ignore his comment.
"i'm sorry. i'll remake your food."
he considers you for a moment, looking you up and down. suddenly, you feel very seen. in a strange, unfamiliar way. you hope your apron isn't askew or messy. you hope you don't look as frazzled as you feel. why do you hope that?
"no worries!" and thank god he says that, because you truly are not in the mood to be doing much of anything. but you ask the obligatory, 'are you sure?' to which he just says, 'i'm sure,' so the whole conversation was redundant, really. shifting back to behind the counter, you begin to clean out the display case. and you're really finding yourself in a cleaning flow until dazai's voice breaks through your haze. he says your name. you're confused as to how he knows your name, until you realise you wear a nametag, and then you're just a little embarrassed as you reply, "yes?"
"does oda come here often?"
you glance up at him while wiping a shelf with a rag. he's not looking at you, rather staring back out into the rain. misty is approaching his table. she's usually shy; you wonder if she will let him pet her.
"often enough. he's usually here once or twice a week. never usually this late, though."
at your response, you see out of the corner of your eye as dazai shifts to face you, transfixed on the methodical motions of your hands cleansing the mess of the counter. he hums, "really?"
"yeah. he's one of my favourite regulars." and you almost leave it at that but your curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask, "what are you both doing out here at this time, anyways?"
dazai considers you. then he turns back away with a ghost of a smile. "business calls."
you can't help the look that crosses your face. what a tasteless answer. so dramatic. and then, something clicks. you blink. your area was under port mafia protection and recently, a rival group has been posing threats to it. it's never affected you, always in the western district of your area, so you've never really paid it much mind. you blink. so, this boy was affiliated with those groups. either the mafia or the rebels, but you're inclined to believe that it's the former because of his crypticness and the sheer amount of black he wears. (you're honestly a little surprised you didn't clock this sooner. no normal people dress like that.) your neurons are firing at a rapid pace, making connections. so... was oda in the port mafia too? your eye twitches. you have been serving a mafioso black coffee and almond muffins for months without knowing.
when you finally look back at dazai, he's watching you again. there's something like curiosity painting his expression, more than you've seen from the boy since he walked in. you're maybe perhaps a little shellshocked so all you can manage to ask is, "am i in trouble?"
he laughs an echoey, hollow laugh. you're embarrassed but also a little indignant because you think you have a right to know, maybe. "you haven't done anything. as long as i'm here you'll be fine."
your eye twitches again.
"so i am in trouble, then."
dazai frowns. "you have such little faith."
for a split-second you forget that he is a member of the most dangerous organization in all of yokohama and not just a boy your age, as you retort, "it's hard to have trust when the person left in charge of my safety looks like he weighs the same as my cat."
misty meows as if she understands you. dazai blinks. you blink back, before adding a tasteful, albeit a little uncomfortable, "with all due respect. sir."
and he smiles. it's a familiar one. faint smile lines appear, his left cheek creases deeply enough to dimple. it's a real, earnest smile. he looks young and alive like the boys at your school. he's cute, almost. you can't help but smile back, just a little. suddenly, you're thinking about his hand again, and how it felt in yours. you turn away with a light exhale and busy yourself with wiping down cases again.
"oda told me that he 'appreciated your sardonicism,'" dazai muses, "and i didn't know what he meant until now."
you turn the sink on and begin to sponge down various mugs. "thank you, i think."
"you're welcome."
menial conversation follows. dazai asks about your work, and you're glad he chose this topic, because really, you could complain about this establishment for hours if someone gave you the opportunity. he listens intently as you talk about your coworkers and manager, the abysmal pay, and the ghastly sanitary standards of the place. to this topic, dazai glances around and questions you.
"maybe you're a hypochondriac," he says, "it looks clean enough to me."
you stare at him, hands still in the sink, covered in suds. you blink. was he blind?
you're about to respond, when the door opens. you glance at the clock; 9:48. twelve minutes before closing. you're about to try and muster up the last of your energy to be the best barista you can be before dazai speaks first. "oda. you're back early."
thank god it's oda. you look up to see misty run to him purring, as he puts his umbrella down. "we finished up the..." he glances carefully up to you, "business early."
dazai waves a hand dismissively. "they know."
oda raises his eyebrows and looks at you. "you do?"
"i do," you affirm, "you keep less-than-subtle company."
"hey!"
you and oda both ignore dazai. the taller man addresses you instead, "then you should know that it's safe to go out for tonight. and the rain is stopping, too."
you exhale. it'd been easy to ignore how stressed you were about the 'dangerous situation' that you'd been told nothing about happening right outside your place of work. and then, it clicks; dazai was distracting you from all that on purpose with his torrent of questions. you look back at him. he simply smiles.
oda speaks again. "i'll be back tomorrow morning to check on things. get home safe."
turning to dazai, he states, "the car is waiting outside. take the umbrella."
his departure leaves three people in the shop, like it's been for the past hour; you, dazai, and misty the cat. so, two people, you guess. and you can't help the twinge of sorrow that makes itself known inside your chest at the fact that this may be the first and last night that you see him. the only thing you can say is, "it was nice to meet you, dazai."
he stands. misty makes a cat noise. he meets your eyes and there is something less than hollowness there. his smile seems more real than before.
"you'll see me again," he almost promises, as if he could read your mind.
"good," is all you have time to reply, before he is out the door. you bite the inside of your cheek to restrain the grin that is breaking out from across your face, "good."
flowers chosen: pink camellia & forget-me-not
. . longing for you & don't forget me
❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊
#i have not touched bsd in so long i am sorry ..#dazai osamu x reader#dazai x reader#osamu dazai x reader#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs#bsd#reader insert#mitsies 5k#insp by “a night to remember” by laufey & bea <3#this was gonna be longer and more dramatic but i had to cut it off bc too long!
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☢｜tamaki x reader. 2,4k words. sorry this is so late i literally forgot to post it last week anw the next n final part is coming in 2 weeks while i work n post some other stuff hehehe
“mum?”
“yes, love?”
“how did you not lose it when you realised dad was going away for good?”
that was the first thing you’d asked your mum on a saturday morning after waving her good morning. needless to say, the woman was taken aback to hear this question from you. she knew her daughter never asked about her parents’ divorce, not wanting to dissect those wounds.
it took her some time to come up with a response.
“i had you to look after.” she lied, not looking at you and instead focusing on her cake. “you kept me going.”
“but how was i helping in that situation? wouldn’t i make it worse?” you pressed on. if there was one thing your mum knew about you, it was that you were weirdly emotionally intelligent for a teenage girl.
she frowned, putting down the fruit she was decorating her cake with, and sighed deeply. she didn’t like lying to you.
“well.” she inhaled, “your question is phrased wrong.” she finally looked you in the eye. “because i did lose it. but before i was too far gone, i got back up. i couldn’t have you suffer like i did.”
the conversation replayed over and over in your head for the following week back to school. you wondered if heartbreak ran in the family. while not knowing much about your parents’ separation, you knew your grandparents also had a bad history. maybe love was just something the gods didn’t want to bestow upon your bloodline.
tamaki’s visit had, surprisingly, not been very pleasant. partly because your sickness made you… well, sick, and partly because tamaki was distracted the whole time. he’d brought you commoners’ food (haruhi’s recommendation), along with some more commoner candy ‘to sweeten your mood’ (what haruhi’s dad would take to work, according to haruhi). oh, and of course, you can’t forget how he would glance at his phone every so often. you ignored it at first, figuring out it’s the host club group chat, but your patience had its limits.
he’d come to your house, to check up on your health - his friend. supposedly. had you already been demoted to client status? well, you had the entire week to think about it as you rested.
during that time, tamaki seemed to reach out a bit more than usual, and once more, you believed he cared. you believed he realised you were important to him, even if your feelings weren’t exactly reciprocated.
and once again you’d been wrong.
because as time passed and you started making weekly appointments again, you began to feel that something was off. what exactly it was you couldn’t tell, but your gut was telling you to be suspicious. ‘suspicious of what, or who? tamaki?’ you didn’t like that feeling one bit.
no matter how many times he screwed up and misunderstood or failed to satisfy you in a host-client setting, you couldn’t give up on him. your mum’s words echoed in your ears, reminding you that men are a waste of time, that they just suck the soul out of you, that they’re not worth the heartbreak — but you were weak. and especially weaker than your mother. she disagreed, of course, but what did she know?
time seemed to start flowing normally again, tamaki wasn’t distant, haruhi and you never spoke to exchange more than greeting words, and your obsession was flourishing once more. you’d shower the halfer with gifts, spending a stupid amount of money — which the host club’s “mum” greatly appreciated — and you didn’t regret it one bit. everything was going smoothly, except for that tiny voice in your head.
it wasn’t until one of the host club’s organised excursions at the beach when your gut proved to be right. you wore your favourite swimwear for tamaki, and his compliments became straight up electricity up your spine. and just as you went to flirt with him like always,
“yo milord don’t forget about y/n’s gift today!” a familiar voice echoed by the palm trees. you could immediately tell it was hikaru, but you didn’t really understand what he meant. ah! perhaps they were expecting you to bring tamaki a gift again? well, you did, but this one felt a bit more personal so maybe you should tell him not to talk about it with the hosts— “even if it’s something stupid again, you ought to thank her for—”
the twins emerged from the bushes only to see you standing by the corner, hidden by the wall from their previous view. tamaki stood there, next to you, frozen. his facial expression almost screaming at the ginger to shut up but he’d been too late.
you furrowed your eyebrows at the two boys before turning your head to that stupid boy you were head over heels for.
“what?” you asked, obviously confused. but it didn’t take long to understand the situation.
tamaki thought your gifts were stupid, and he discussed it with his friends. and none of them thought to tell you. at least that's what the situation told you.
for what reason? well it could be a) manners or b) they didn’t care enough to.
but jokes on you because it wasn’t any of the above, it was c) they had to keep you happy because your mother asked for a favour. the favour being to make sure tamaki didn’t abandon you.
well, that’s not exactly what tamaki said when he pulled you to the side to explain, but it’s what the twins confessed to when you started poking for the truth.
you were more than disappointed with the news, your gut feeling now transferring to your throat and making it so tight you couldn’t get any words out, so you returned to your beach bed, dragging it away from tamaki’s. but the universe seemed to really hate you that day.
“miss l/n, is everything okay?” haruhi’s ever-annoying voice reached your ears and all you wanted to do was turn around and strangle her small little neck until it snapped. it was her fault. it was because of her that the boy you swore would become your boyfriend before graduation would no longer be apart of that plan. her. her, that stupid bi—
“i’m fine haruhi.” you smiled at her and continued dragging your bed across the sand to get away from this madness. you didn’t bother with any formalities.
“do you need help? i could bring your things so you don’t—”
“for fuck’s sake will you shut up?!” you snapped, raising your voice at the host. she didn’t say anything, just nodding and bowing before leaving. thankfully nobody else had been around to witness the scene, or you would’ve been involved in ouran gossip. only gods know how tiresome that is.
tamaki didn’t come to talk to you after that, you wanted to believe he wanted to and the hosts told him to give you space, but at this point you gave up all hope. he wanted haruhi, some cross-dressing nobody, a commoner, and you could do nothing about it.
the bracelet you had in your bag stayed there, and there it would remain for the rest of your trip. you’re kind of glad you never got to give it to him, at least it saved you the embarrassment of possibly being ridiculed by a bunch of boys calling themselves “hosts” with no shame.
but you guessed you were the one who should be ashamed; for wanting a host — a man notorious for seeing women as bank accounts.
when you went back home, you didn’t talk to your mum about the twins’ confession. sure, you were angry, but you knew she just wanted you happy. as for tamaki, he’d texted you a couple times but you knew if you called him you’d just burst into tears, so you went straight to bed, not bothering to wash the sand and sea salt off your body.
—
the following month had been… weird. you didn’t bother dropping by the host club anymore. kyouya, expecting this, just sighed and deleted you from the list of clients. he didn’t think you’d come back again after the fiasco at the beach.
haruhi, however, felt bad for some reason. like, okay, yeah, you were a bit more than mean sometimes and yeah, you barely looked at her if not to glare at her to get lost, but you didn’t seem like a bad person. your affection toward tamaki seemed genuine, and your last interaction didn’t sit well with her. it wasn’t the usual glare, eye roll, scoff, avoidant gesture or whatever else you “greeted” her with. this time it seemed more hurt, more… defeated. and she was right. because you’d been defeated.
haruhi had won.
she didn’t know, but she didn’t have to. because at the end of the day, it was all one-sided. one-sided affection, and one-sided dispute.
the twins both had different reactions to this revelation. kaoru (being the emotionally intelligent one) felt guilty for not handling the situation better but hikaru (the… other one) told him not to bother, and that they did what they could. he’d miss having you around, but you were never super close to begin with.
as for tamaki, he didn’t really register what had happened at first. when his hosting routine started again but without you in it, his clients had some questions.
“is it true that you kicked l/n out of the host club?”
“i mean what did you expect, she had it coming after harassing haruhi like that.”
“yeah, i agree. i mean, i understand some jealousy, but wasn’t that a bit too much? it’s not like tamaki’s her boyfriend.”
“i don’t think she was too harsh, but i guess the hosts know better…”
tamaki didn’t know what to make of this. he’d never kicked you out of the club, he thought you’d come back. you always did. if you were jealous, all you had to do was say you wanted more attention and he’d give it it to you. after all, you were a client, you had every right.
wait, what was that?
“whatever do you mean, princess?” he questioned in that melodic voice of his. “haruhi and y/n are on perfectly good terms, we’re all friends here!” he smiled widely and sat his cup down, using his pinky to erase the klank! noise.
“come on tamaki, you don’t have to keep such appearances around us.” one of the clients giggled. “we could all see it. to be honest, i never really noticed her much until haruhi came around.”
another girl continued, “yeah, totally. i hope it wasn’t a repeat of anayokoji, at least.” she rolled her eyes. “she seemed nice… such a shame.”
“i… don’t understand, ladies. what are you saying?” tamaki looked puzzled. the four girls looked back at him and at each other. it was times like these that tamaki showed he was a little dumb.
“tamaki… l/n is totally into you. she’s, like, super jealous of haruhi.”
tamaki didn’t know what to do with this information. he was pretty annoyed when kaoru made fun of him for not noticing until now. and really, he didn’t notice. he was told.
“why do you think our mums got involved? this is what the female sex calls ‘girl issues’, sir.”
tamaki resisted biting their heads off; he had no time for their bullshit. he had to meet with you and apologise, right?
y/n>.< : y/n? can we talk please?
you didn’t respond. neither to that, nor to the other 10 messages he spammed you with. calling you sent him straight to voicemail, and he swore if he heard that damn automatic message voice again he would explode.
why did it happen this way? why were you even jealous of haruhi? did he look gay to you? but then you wouldn’t want him, right? his head was filled with so many questions, until haruhi answered them all with a single sentence.
“don’t sulk too much senpai, it was inevitable that she’d find out about me and get suspicious.” she patted his shoulder, “i guess that’s what happens when you’re a popular boy surrounded by women.”
tamaki’s head rose from his knees, his eyes wide staring at haruhi’s. “wait, what do you mean ‘she’d find out about you’?”
haruhi sighed and sent him a look of pity. “oh yeah, you guys don’t know. y/n’s known about my sex for a while now.” she shrugged. “she saw me changing.”
a light bulb went off in most of the hosts’ heads (wait, i’ve seen this before) before they all glanced at each other in mutual understanding.
“i wish we would’ve gotten closer since we’re both girls and you’re so obsessed with me having female friends, but i would feel horrible if i made her feel sad whenever she’s around me.” haruhi continued.
oh, so he didn’t look gay, you just knew haruhi was also a girl.
but why would you get jealous of his little girl? he was just protecting her like a father would.
“oh will you stop with that crap, milord?” hikaru whined “we all know, there’s no point in denying it anymore.” he stopped when his brother slapped him on the head and they left the room.
“well, club activity’s over. we’ll see you guys tomorrow.” they all waved goodbyes and soon enough so did haruhi, but tamaki just sat on the club couch, thinking about his (very) recent discovery.
so he came to the conclusion:
you like(d?) him → he likes (???) haruhi → you realised and grew jealous → he prioritised her over you → he ended up looking like an asshole.
because he is an asshole.
“guess that’s what happens when you’re just too pretty.” he joked to himself, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t find it funny if you were here.
“mum, why did you and dad divorce?” you finally found the courage to ask the woman when she was relaxing in her bedroom one night. she sighed and looked at you, putting her book to the side and patting the spot on the bed next to her. you got in, looking at her expectantly.
“i didn’t want to tell you this because you were so young. you looked up to him very much.” she gave you a sad smile and caressed your cheek. “your father fell in love with someone else, darling.”
you stayed quiet for a bit, and your mum grew worried. should she not have told you?
“is that why you asked tamaki not to leave me?” you asked and your voice cracked. your mother sighed and apologised, wrapping her arms around you.
“i want you to be happy, y/n. don’t be like me. please.”
maybe love really wasn’t something the gods wanted to bestow upon your bloodline.
#ohshc#ohshc fanfic#ohshc x reader#fanfiction#ouran high school host club#ouran host club#tamaki#tamaki suoh#tamaki x reader#light angst#part 2#part 2 of 3#he's dumb
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Shine A Light Into The Wreckage
Chapter Three - Gasping For Breath
Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.
1.7K
Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this (like seriously Ken tries to kill her in this one)
Series Masterlist
The stairs to the apartment were even worse in the dark. If she didn't already have which stairs weren't entirely stable memorised, she would have been falling through the floor.
The apartment was dark when she pushed open the door. Part of her hoped that Ken had gone to bed, but a bigger part of her knew it would have been too good to be true.
Hanging her jacket on the back of the door, she carefully placed her bag on the sofa and started moving through the apartment. So far so good, she allowed herself to think.
But, of course, nothing is ever easy. When somebody cleared their throat, she jumped out of her skin, nearly falling to the floor. "Jesus, Ken," she muttered as she straightened herself up. "You scared the shit out of me."
She looked towards the kitchen, where he was sitting in the darkness. She could hardly see him, but she didn't dare move to turn the light on.
"Why are you sneaking in?" He challenged, his voice calm. And that frightened her the most.
"I didn't want to wake you up," she answered quickly. "In case you were asleep."
Still, he stared. His face was blank, unreadable. "So, you weren't with anybody?"
She shook her head. "I just lost track of time at the cafe."
Suddenly he was on his feet, striding towards the window. He moved the curtain to the side slightly and looked out onto the street below.
It was fine, she said to herself. Bob was a friend and he was probably long gone by now.
When Ken laughed, her stomach dropped. "Is that the fucking guy from The Hard Deck? The Hangman guy?" He yelled as he turned towards her, spit flying everywhere.
(Now, dear reader, I feel as though I owe you some context. You see, Bob was in The Hard Deck on the night that Jake flirted with her. He was absorbed in another conversation and didn't see her, not until this stranger was swinging at Jake and Bob had to step between them. Still, Bob didn't notice her, but she didn't notice him. They were too wrapped up in their own distress. So, when Ken saw Bob looking at the apartment building as he walked away, he got the two aviators mixed up.)
"What?" She stared at her boyfriend with furrowed brows. "Ken, that's not Hangman."
"But you were with him."
She scrambled to find words, tried to work out what wouldn't get her into trouble. But she couldn’t lie to him. He'd know instantly and it would only make things so much worse. "I mean, we met at the café, but I wasn't with him."
Ken laughed again, but this was bitter. "Somehow, I don't believe you."
When he strode over, she couldn’t stop her body from flinching away. "I never pegged you as a slut, Barbie," he said as he forcefully grabbed her cheeks.
"Ken," she tried to say, but it didn't come out right, not with the way he was holding her. "Please."
Her cries fell on deaf ears. He moved his face close to hers, almost like he was going to kiss her, but then he pulled away. "I don't kiss sluts, Barbie," he said and let go of her face, pushing her to the floor in the process.
She sniffed, but she didn't cry. Not when she had endured worse. "I'm not cheating on you," she whispered.
Ken picked her up. It wasn't loving. It wasn't her knight in shining armour scooping her up off of the floor and carrying her away. No, just as he had done the night before, he wrapped his fingers around her hair and pulled her to her feet. She cried out as she struggled to stand, but Ken ignored it.
"Bedroom," he said, voice demanding as he let go of her. "Now."
She walked into their bedroom and stripped off her clothes, just as she was expected to do. When Ken came into the room he pushed her down and flipped her over, forcing her to lay on her back and face him.
"You know I hate having to remind you of who you belong to, Barbie." The way he said her nickname, it was patronising. Like she really was just a toy for him to play with.
As he undid his belt and freed himself from his jeans, she felt physically sick. He leaned over her, pushing in with no regard for her comfort or pleasure.
Tears ran down her face, but she didn't sob. She couldn't look at him, and that only made him angry. "Let me see you, Barbie," he growled as his hands wrapped around her throat.
Ken never squeezed. He never ever caused her harm like that. But today was different. Today his grip was tight as he held her neck, like he was trying to cut off her air supply. Like he wanted her dead.
Suddenly she was gasping for air.
Desperately her hands clawed at his wrists, trying to get him to release her. "Ken!" She tried to gasp, but he sped up his thrusts. "Ken! I-"
His grunt grew louder and he moved faster, his hips snapping until finally, he finished, climaxing inside of her. He released her neck and tucked himself back into his jeans, leaving her there, gasping for breath.
On shaking legs, she crawled to the bathroom and reached into the cabinet for her birth control. As soon as she had swallowed it, she climbed into the shower, where she let herself cry.
***
"Baby On Board!" Jake shouted the moment Bob walked back into Natasha's condo. "We were just about to send the police out looking for you!" He shouted with a laugh.
He hadn't thought about how much his friends would have worried about his disappearance. His hands were in his pockets as he made his way out to the back porch, where Jake and Natasha already had a beer each.
"Sorry," he said, accepting the bottle that Natasha passed him from the box beside her. "Got caught up with something."
"And you didn't even bring back the coffees." Natasha and Jake didn't mention that, when Bob hadn't come back for an hour or answered their texts, they had turned to the coffee machine. It wasn't as good as the cafe coffee they had been promised, but it would do.
Natasha looked at him, eyebrows raised (although it wasn't the easiest thing to see beneath the lights strung up above them). "Is it a girl?" She asked.
Bob blushed deep crimson, and that was answer enough. "Our Baby On Board has a girlfriend?" Jake called, tipping the top of the bottle towards him. "I never thought I'd see the day."
"She's not my girlfriend,” Bob mumbled as he sat between Jake and Natasha.
Jake and Natasha looked at each other. "But you want her to be, right?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Bob took his first sip of beer. "I don't know," he said once he had swallowed the mouthful. "I mean, I've only just met her and she's got a boyfriend."
"So?" Jake replied and Natasha glared at him.
"Tell us everything," she said to the Weapon Systems Officer.
So, Bob told them everything. He told them about the day before in the cafe, where he had knocked over her drink and ruined her notebook. He told them how she had run to work when he tried to apologise. He told them about the replacement notebook and how she had invited him to sit with her. And he told them that he had walked her to her apartment.
"She sounds great," said Jake as he finished his drink and reached for another.
"Yeah, perfect," Natasha agreed. "Apart from the boyfriend."
"We're hating him for you," Jake continued.
Bob shook his head. "We can't just hate him. What if he's a really nice guy?" He suggested.
A scoff left Jake's lips. "He's with Baby Bob's dream girl. That's bad enough for me," he said, reaching past Bob to fist bump Natasha, who nodded in agreement.
Bob held his hands up in defence. "All I'm saying is, if she's with him, he must be great." He sipped his drink. "Besides, I think she's just looking for a friend."
"Are you okay just being that friend?" Natasha asked, her tone comforting.
Bob nodded his head. "Yeah, I am."
After the one beer Bob said his goodbyes. He climbed into his truck and set off to his own place. Just like he had said to Nat and Jake, he was okay with just being her friend. Even if he couldn't get their interactions out of his head. Even when he pulled into his driveway he was thinking about her. Thinking about the way she laughed at him, a laugh that lit up the room. The way her eyes seemed to shine when she told a story from her childhood. The way her emotions seemed to get the better of her when she briefly mentioned her story.
He thought about her apartment. It wasn't the nicest San Diego had to offer , definitely run down and cheap. From the little he had seen of the inside, the stairs would never pass any kind of inspection.
"Frodo!" He called when he opened the door to his two bedroom house.
Once Bob had completed his second stint at Top gun and had permanently relocated to San Diego, his mother had been so worried about him getting lonely. So, to ease her worries, Bob got a cat. Frodo had the life of luxury, more toys than he would ever play with and the best food Bob could get.
He found Frodo asleep on his bed, his black hairs covering the comforter. Not that Bob minded too much; it was Frodo's home as much as it was his.
She hadn't told him her name, Bob thought as he filled Frodo's bowl (as soon as Frodo heard the cupboard containing his food open, he went running). She hadn't told him her name as he was smitten.
He just had to hope she was at the café again tomorrow.
Taglist: @biancathecool @not-nyasa @burningwitchprincess @darksparklesficrecs @primroseluna @littlemsbumblebee @wretchedmo
#bob floyd#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd x you#bob floyd smut#bob floyd x reader smut#robert floyd#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd fluff#robert floyd smut#robert floyd x you#robert floyd x reader smut#top gun#top gun imagine#top gun bob#top gun maverick
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Part 1 is out! Hope you lovelies enjoy! A03
Masterlist
- Pairing: Joel x fem! Reader, Joel x You
- Rating: Explicit (18+)
- Words: 4.9k
- Tags: No outbreak, protective Joel, angst, fingering, oral, cream pie, abusive dance partner, tension, longing, porn with plot, smut, dom! Joel (reader mid 20’s, Joel in his early 40’s)
- Summary: You’re starring in the ballet Swan Lake, taking on the lead role in New York. You practice day and night and are always staying after hours. You keep seeing Joel around the theater, the hot maintenance worker you can’t keep your eyes off of. You aren’t the only one though because you think he’s watching you too.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
It was the middle of October in New York. Breezy and chilly as the days started getting colder. You spent most of your days tirelessly training at the David H. Koch Theater, slaving away to your art which was ballet.
You had just landed the biggest role of your career. You were picked to play the lead in Swan Lake and would dance as the swan queen. You still couldn’t believe it. After all those hard, grueling years of practice, you had finally done something right.
You had just graduated from Julliard, working extremely hard for this day. You swear you’d never get it. You always were too hard on yourself, needing to be absolutely perfect. Needing to keep every turn, every leap, every movement sharp. Make it look like it was effortless. That’s how you’d get someone to pay attention to you. See how hard you were working to get a lead role in a huge dance production.
Of course the position came with its downsides. You always had someone hounding you about watching what you ate. Telling you that you had to stay extra hours to get that one dance move perfect. Having to put up with bullshit from strict instructors. Having girls always talk bad about you behind your back because they were jealous they weren’t in the number one spot. Having to deal with grimy men that wanted to get in your pants just to say they scored big with the top girl.
It was brutal some days, but you put up with it because that’s the price you had to pay to do what you loved. And that was dance.
You spent the whole first week of training touring the grand theater and learning your dance pieces on the massive hardwood theater stage. Learning all your place markers, where you’d enter and exit, where you’d change your wardrobe, and so the list went on. It was a lot to take in as you had never done anything this big before, nonetheless perform in an immense theater as this. It was all overwhelming to say the least.
You always showed up on time, always made sure you looked the part. Never leaving the apartment without your makeup or hair done, making sure your pointe shoes stayed spotless and shiny. You were a professional now so you had to act like one.
As much as you loved ballet and being in the spotlight, you didn’t realize what all really went down behind the scenes. You had to deal with a lot of shit on the daily. Get yelled at constantly, have a smile on your face even when you didn’t have the heart to, deal with vicious dancers, see just how far some of those girls would go with higher ups just to have a chance at getting a lead role. It was all exhausting. You hated the drama, so you always did your best to tune it out and just focus on your dancing.
There was one good thing that came with this territory though. The first week something had caught your eye. Not something, someone.
You had been rehearsing a dance routine for the white swan, and one of the stage lights had gone out while you were in the middle of your performance. Your strict instructor had yelled for someone to come help fix the damn light. She had been angry, upset that her time was getting wasted on mundane things. It didn’t take long for someone to come along and enter the auditorium. And that’s when you saw him for the first time.
He was all muscle, wearing a tight green flannel shirt that clung to his bulging biceps. His shoulders were broad and he was tall, standing a little over 6 feet. He wore light blue jeans and brown worker boots. His hair was slightly messy as he pushed it back. Dark brown hair that was sprinkled with grey and a trimmed beard that showed silver patches.
He looked to be in his 40’s which was intriguing. And he was handsome, a brooding sense about him that could entice you to linger your gaze just a little too long. He had intense dark eyes. Eyes you would be okay with staring into. A walking dreamboat.
And his arms.
God, his arms.
His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, exposing thick veiny arms. And his hands. His hands were big and strong, veins spiraling over long, thick fingers. It was hot. And then your mind wondered to dark places.
He could probably do a lot with those hands. Those rough, sturdy hands…
You caught yourself staring as he was walking up the wooden stage steps, eyes finding yours as they locked on you for a few seconds. Your heart was in your throat as you stared at the gorgeous man, wanting to feel just how soft his hair was, wanting to know what it’d be like to run your fingers through those thick tousled curls…
He was walking past you now, just trying to do his job and head to the light fixture that needed fixing. He gently brushed past your shoulder as he walked by. You felt the spark of electricity instantly as his touch lingered for a few seconds, the scent of mahogany and spice encasing the air.
You turned around to get one more glance at the handsome stranger, but then you caught him looking back at you too. His brown eyes flicked over you curiously, his eyebrow slightly raised, then he was turning back around, heading for his task at hand. Your instructor yelled at you to focus, and your mind went back to what you were supposed to be doing.
And that was the first day you saw the maintenance man. The day that you developed a hyperfixation for men that wore plaid shirts and had untamed hair. The day that would ruin you for good.
The weekend went by fast as Monday rolled back around. That meant a full week of training. More overtime to be spent in the theater. You didn’t want to know what sort of drama awaited you, but you pulled yourself together and got ready for the day anyways.
When you finished putting your hair up and finished your makeup, you headed out the door and said goodbye to your comfy bed. You just knew you’d be back late. You always were.
The theater was quiet today, aside from the stage manager Timothy and your instructor Carlotta bickering back and forth. Carlotta was an old, big shot ballet dancer that had toured the entire world. She was the most dramatic and strict instructor you had ever had. Every single thing you did she nitpicked. You just took it because she was only trying to make you a better dancer.
Carlotta was tall, too slim, barely ever eating anything that wasn’t green. She’d always yell at you if she caught you eating anything that was greasy or unhealthy. It was a real pain, but you learned not to eat around her anymore.
She’d always wear her auburn hair in tight buns and dress in fancy clothes that were name brand and custom made. She was a diva, a real piece of work. She had a thick Russian accent and always rolled her r’s.
She always had dark red lipstick caked on her thin lips and long eyelashes that could surely poke an eye out. Her heels were always at least four inches tall, and she acted like she was the most important thing in every room she walked in. Her confidence was set high, and she never doubted herself.
You remember the first day she saw you in the audition for Swan Lake. She called you a beauty and said your long legs were a godsend. She pulled you aside and called you a diamond in the rough and was positive that you’d get the lead. She was right. You had to thank her for her confidence in you. All she said was, “We have work to do,” when you got the part.
“Timothy, I do not have time for this today. You tell them to have my props ready by tomorrow or someone is getting fired!” she screamed as she raised her arms and pointed for Timothy to exit the room.
He shook his head and agreed to get them done by the next day, then took his leave as he slammed the side exit door, leaving an echo across the vast stage.
She glared at you and pointed to your feet that weren’t yet in pointe shoes. “Shoes, now! You’re late,” she spit as she had a deep frown on her red lipstick face.
“But I’m not…” you said defenseless, but she cut you off.
“Hush, shoes!” She pointed to her expensive Coach watch and clicked the glass with her long, pointed finger.
You were in no place to argue, so you just sighed and found a spot on the polished floor, quickly putting on and lacing up your shoes. You were actually ten minutes early. You weren’t late like she accused.
But whatever.
As soon as you got your shoes on, she demanded that you start from the beginning of Act One. She wanted you to cover all the solo dances for today, and then tomorrow you’d have to dance with your awful partner, Pierre.
God, you couldn’t stand him, but you had to do what you had to do.
Carlotta yelled your name and snapped her fingers, demanding that you hurry up and get in position for the first dance.
“Just a second!” you yelled as you hurriedly rushed to your first starting point, trying to find exactly where you were supposed to stand.
“No, now!” she yelled louder, getting annoyed with you.
You smoothed down your pink skirt and ran a hand over your too tight black leotard, feeling like it was suffocating you.
Carlotta huffed and pointed to your starting point which was a foot from where you were.
Oops.
You heard a few snickers coming from behind the rose red stage curtain. Three bleach blonde ballet dancers whispered to each other back and forth as they looked you up and down, clearly talking about you.
Your hands went to tight fists, and you held back tears that were burning at the backs of your eyes. Why hadn’t anyone been nice to you? This entire time you thought people would be more friendly, more welcoming. Turns out when you’re the star of the show that’s not the case. When you’re the lead everyone is cruel, unfriendly, harsh.
You just wanted one person. One goddamn person to be nice to you. Make you feel like you weren’t an outsider, but that didn’t happen. You just had to suck it up and do what you came here to do. Dance. That’s what you knew and that’s what you’d do. Even though you were dying on the inside from the weight of it all.
The spotlight shined down on you as you blinked and squinted your eyes, trying to get used to what you’d see every night in performances. You took in your surroundings of the theater as you looked around.
The walls were covered with red velvet material, the ceilings done in pastel-colored majestic art. The box seats up high were decked in gold with angel statues surrounding them. The theater was stories high as rows were stacked on top of each other. Crimson, lavish seats sat against the theater floor, along with marble staircases that led to the balcony and upper seats. A colossal, crystallized chandelier hung in the center of the room, giving it that Phantom of the Opera vibe. It really was quite a sight, something you thought you’d never get to yourself.
“Position, now!” Carlotta screamed at you as you jumped from her booming voice. You rolled your shoulders and stood up a little taller, getting in position. The dreamy music sprung to life as you started your routine, focusing on perfect movements, not wanting to be yelled at by every little thing you did.
So far she wasn’t barking at you. She was just observing, watching you, going over every little detail on you. You kept your head up and took to the air as you leaped and turned, pirouetting around the stage, getting dizzy from all the motions.
Before you could finish the routine, she halted the music as silence took over. You stopped mid turn to face her, your jaw clenching as you were afraid of what she’d say.
“Not too bad, but could be more perfected. Go again. From the top,” she commanded as she pointed with her long red fingernails to the starting position.
You internally groaned as you dragged your feet back to the mark she had showed you earlier. You heard more snickering behind the curtain and rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with them today.
“No rolling your eyes! You’re a professional, professionals never do that in public. Big smile and chin up. Now go again,” she demanded as she crossed her arms and sat down in a crimson theater chair in the front row.
You put on a big fake smile and got in position, waiting for the music to begin again. Once it came to life, so did your body. You pushed yourself to be as perfect as you could, lifting your legs as high as they’d go, making your spins as tight as they could possibly be, raising your arms as gracefully as you could get them.
Carlotta still had things to pick out when you finished, still wanted you to go again. “Better, but let’s go again. This time I want you to jump higher. Point your toes a little harder on your soubresaut.”
You stood there staring at her, trying to catch your breath from the previous routine.
“Well, go on. We don’t have all day.” She flicked her wrists your way as you sighed and went back to the start.
Before you could get back into position, you looked up into one of the dimly lit opera boxes and froze.
It was him. The maintenance man.
Your heart sped up entirely too fast as you focused on keeping your composure calm.
His broad shoulders filled the denim button-up shirt as he held a screwdriver in one hand, the other pressed down on the edge of the opera box, fixing something with the dark wood. His eyes were trained on what he was doing, but he looked up a few seconds later as his dark eyes honed in on you.
You looked down shyly but peered back up at him moments later. Running your thumb against every single finger slowly, trying to calm your nerves as you stood in the presence of the older, attractive man.
You gulped as you looked at his big hands, trying hard not to think about how they’d feel against your skin. Watching the way his rough hands slid across the wood, digging his thick fingers into the screwdriver.
His eyes focused only on you as his hands continued to work. Slidding, turning, digging, flexing his fingers…Making you bite your lower lip in response, almost able to feel that burn against your skin.
Carlotta screamed out your name as you jumped, coming out of your trance. “The routine? Hello?” She was raising her arms in a shrug and pointing at your position on the stage.
“Oh, sorry…guess I got distracted,” you said with an apology, getting into position once again.
Before the music started, you lifted your eyelashes and peeked back up into the left corner discreetly so Carlotta wouldn’t pick up on what was going on. Your eyes gazed back over to the mysterious man in the opera box, wanting one more look before you got back to work.
He looked back down at you as his eyes found yours, carefully watching you as his eyes trailed over your body and back up into your face slowly. You shuttered as you pulled your legs closer together, trying not to get too excited from the eye contact.
Holy shit. You had a crush and you didn’t even know the man. You could see this was going to be a big distraction here. You dropped your gaze once the music sounded again, repeating the routine once more.
Just breathe. Focus.
But you couldn’t. Not when he was watching.
You stayed late again that night, going over the first act over and over again until Carlotta said you could stop. She gave you only one short fifteen minute break today and didn’t even let you eat. You had a turkey sandwich stashed in the break room fridge, but one of the ballet dancers had thrown it away.
One of the snarky blondes to be exact. “Oops, sorry. Was that yours? My bad,” she had said. You fumed with anger and yelled at her, wanting to slice into her. You had told Carlotta about what she did, but she just brushed it off saying you didn’t need to eat.
Today had been one of the most frustrating days at the theater. You were starving, you were lonely, and you were buzzing with emotions that left you wanting to curl into a ball and cry, letting all your frustrations of the day go.
This wasn’t anything like you imagined being a professional dancer would be. If someone had warned you, maybe you wouldn’t have taken the part. Maybe you would’ve stayed back in Florida. Maybe….oh, nevermind.
You were sitting on the edge of the stage, hanging your legs off the side as you slumped over and put your hands on your forehead, needing just a moment to breathe. To clear your mind.
As you continued to sulk, you heard faint footsteps against the dark brown wood that made up the floors. When you looked up your eyes widened, almost thinking you were imagining who you saw. There he was in all his glory, walking up to you slowly.
It was him. The man with the dark eyes that haunted your thoughts.
“Tough day?” he asked as a deep southern drawl left his mouth. A sound that could stop you in your tracks. A lull that could hum you to sleep.
He raised his eyebrows as he waited for you to respond, taking another step forward, stopping just a few short steps away from you.
“Yeah, you could say that,” you sighed as you sat up taller, trying to keep your restless legs still.
“They’re pretty tough on you, aren’t they?” he asked with concern in his simmering eyes.
“Unfortunately,” you grumbled.
“You new to this?” he asked as he took another step forward, making you nervous with how close he was getting to you.
“It’s my first big show,” you said with a shrug, not showing much enthusiasm.
“You don’t seem too excited,” he stated plainly, pointing out the obvious.
“All my life I’ve worked to get this far. I never expected to get the lead in this ballet, but I did. And no, it’s not what I expected, but I’m just trying to remind myself this is what I’ve wanted my entire life,” you replied adamantly, raising your voice just the tiniest bit.
“Jus’ be careful. Don’t hurt yourself. I see how hard you practice. You must be exhausted.” His dark eyes turned to a warm coffee color, eyes you wanted to swim in. They were absolutely breathtaking. They changed just the slightest more dark when he was talking about something serious. Something you were embarrassed that you picked up on quickly.
“I am exhausted. I don’t really have a choice though. They don’t give many breaks around here,” you shrugged defeatedly, putting your hands on the edge of the stage.
“Jus’ try not to let anyone push you around too much. Okay?” he asked with a calm demeanor.
“Okay,” you nodded, not wanting to tell him you’d still be pushed around, even if you didn’t like it.
“Wait. So you’ve been watching me?” you asked as you glanced up from your long eyelashes, looking directly at him.
“Oh, uhh no. I’m just around a lot and see you up there practicing. That’s all,” he said with rushed words, turning red in the cheeks.
So he was watching you. You knew it. You could feel his eyes on you throughout the day. That dark gaze that made you dizzy.
A slow tingle ran down the back of your spine at the thought of his eyes on you. Watching your moves, watching your form, keeping his eyes on you.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked coolly.
Sweetheart?! He just called you sweetheart.
Christ. You were already freaking out, and you didn’t even know his name yet. You had to calm the fuck down. He was just a man. A really attractive, manly man. The first person to even be nice to you in this city.
You gave him your name and then he repeated it back with a melodic tone in his voice, captivating you with his smooth, gentle voice.
Fuck. You had it bad.
“That’s a pretty name,” he said with a smile creeping up to the corners of his mouth. Sending butterflies through your stomach.
“I’m Joel,” he said kindly as he held out his hand for you to shake.
You looked at it for a couple seconds, blinking your wide eyes, and then reached your arm out and took his hand. Heat burned through you the moment his hand connected with yours. It was big and strong. Rough calluses lining the backs of his fingers as they scraped against yours.
You gasped when he closed his firm hand over yours and shook it gently, enthralling you in a trance like state as you stared into his honey eyes, wanting to sink into them slowly.
After a few seconds he pried his fingers from yours and placed his hand down against the stage.
Right next to your thigh.
The side of his arm grazed the outside of your leg, sending electricity zapping through your nerves. He was standing so close, leaning too close. It was almost too much.
You squeezed your legs together as your breathing picked up, warmth building against the insides of your thighs. You were sure you were flushed. You had to be. With a gorgeous man like him standing this close to you? Fingers practically on your thigh.
Oh, God.
You were going to have a hell of a time keeping away from this one. You just knew it.
“You from around here?” he asked almost softly.
You shook your head. “No, I’m from Florida.”
“Ahh, the sunshine state. I can see that.” He flicked his eyes over you and faintly smiled as his hand shifted just the slightest, his wrist now leaning into the outside of your leg.
Your breath caught at the feel of him through your tights, the weight of his gleaming eyes on you making you burn with heat. It was a lot. He was a lot.
“You have any family here?” he asked as he leaned against the stage, his bicep flexing on the spot.
You took your eyes off the thick veins in his arm and looked back up into his honey eyes. “No,” you said sadly, dropping your eyes again. “They’re all back in Florida, unfortunately.”
“That’s a shame. What about friends? You have any friends here? Surely a girl like you has some kind of support system.”
You looked down at the ground and sighed, shaking your head as your face dropped. “No. I mean I used to have friends. At least I thought. Once I got the lead role in the ballet, they all turned on me. Turns out they wanted my spot, and apparently I stole it from them.” You put the word stole in air quotes as you spoke. “So, no. Can’t say that I have anyone here.”
A wave of sadness washed over you as you looked back up at Joel, keeping back tears as you glanced at him with a melancholy look on your face.
He furrowed his eyebrows as a concerned stare met your eyes. Like he was apprehensive and worried. “Sounds like they’re jus’ jealous that you’re a better dancer than them. Girls can be little vipers. Gotta watch your back.”
“Yeah…I try. And my instructor is kind of a nightmare. She nitpicks every single thing I do, and it makes me feel like maybe I don’t belong here or maybe I’m not good enough...”
He cut you off as he cupped your chin and turned you to where you were eye level with his. You gulped as his dark brown eyes were searing into yours, his face intense as his hand stayed under your chin. A tingle running down your jawline.
“You do belong here. I’ve seen the way you dance. The way you lose yourself in the music, in your dance moves. You’re good. Best I’ve seen up on that stage actually.”
So he had been watching you dance all this time. You knew it. Holy shit.
“You wanna dance, right?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“And you want to be the star of this ballet?”
“That’s right,” you said quietly, your mouth dry from the contact of his fingers on your face.
“Then dance. Forget about them. Forget about all of them. Just go out there and do what you do best. Think you can do that?”
You nodded your head as you worked hard to keep your breathing normal. “Mhm,” you replied.
“Atta girl.”
Your eyes widened at the reference, a wave of slick pooling in between your legs as you pushed them closer together.
God, his voice was so smooth with that southern accent. It was making you come undone.
“Try not to let ‘em get in your head. A pretty thing like you should be treated better. Jus’ be careful. Don’t work yourself too hard.”
Pretty? He thought you were pretty. Holy…
He let go of your chin and took his hand off the stage, gently grazing the side of your leg as he backed up, leaving heat running along the places he had just touched.
“If ya ever need someone to talk to, I’m around. You know where to find me. See ya later, sunshine.”
He turned and walked the opposite way, heading for the exit door at the back of the room. Leaving you completely breathless as you watched him get further.
You just sat there gawking at him with an open mouth. Did he just give you a nickname? He called you sunshine. And damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound you ever heard.
Before he pushed the door open, he stopped and looked back at you, eyes flickering over you once more.
You closed your jaw and tried to look more sophisticated. Make it look like you weren’t freaking out on the inside.
He nodded his head toward you and then headed out the door as it closed with a loud bang against the echo of the auditorium.
You were left there sitting against the stage as your fingers dug into the sides with your legs pressed together. Leaving you with wanting thoughts and a pool of desire in between your legs.
You sat there thinking of his handsome features, his tousled curls, his honey eyes, his broad shoulders, his thick hands. You sat like that until the lights started dimming, signaling you it was time to leave. To go back to the empty apartment. When all you wanted was for him to fill the silence of those bare walls. A longing desire that needed to be put to sleep.
That night you tossed and turned in your sheets. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Those smoldering eyes haunted your dreams. He was so charming, so nice. The way he had called you sunshine. Enticing you with that low southern drawl of his. It did things to you. Immoral things.
You couldn’t sleep so you did the next best thing you could to get him out of your mind. You touched yourself. As you slid your hand beneath the sheets, you found your aching core to be wet and sticky. Slick was pooling at your middle, covering the inside of your thighs. Making them wetter the more you thought about him.
You groaned as you slid one of your fingers inside yourself, feeling your dripping wet walls as you pushed in and out, letting all your sexual frustration out.
You took your other hand and placed two fingers against your throbbing clit, pressing them down on the most sensitive spot that you could find. You moaned out as the slow circles turned into fast breaths and silent cries. Needing more, needing something else.
Dark eyes encapsulated your vision as you closed your eyes, concentrating on those bulging veins. Reflecting on that low drawl of his voice, pretending he was in the room with you now. Working you with those thick fingers of his.
Atta girl. That’s a good girl. That’s it, sunshine.
Your fingers were circling faster, pumping in and out harder, curling up into the spongy spot that made you see stars.
That’s my good girl.
And then you were coming as you released all your built up pressure, clenching around nothing and coming undone. Saturating the bottom of your sheets as you moaned out Joel’s name across the room, spilling yourself once more onto the bed.
Christ. You had to get a hold of yourself. You needed to focus on your dancing, not the brooding man that made you absolutely crazy.
But he wasn’t just a man.
No.
He was more than that. So much more.
Part 2
#joel miller#joel x you#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel x female reader#joel miller smut#joel tlou#protective joel
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I really miss the romance dawn trio where it's Zoro and Nami on either side of Luffy. The monster trio is great and everything but it does make me sad how Sanji took Nami's place. I miss the times when Zoro and Nami would threaten someone simultaneously, weapons drawn in sync. It felt so good in a gender way.
I've only just started thinking about this but I'd love to create things for an AU where Sanji just never gets that strong, and Nami powers up alongside Zoro and Luffy instead. I think it could be good for both Nami and Sanji's characters in different ways.
I think Sanji's whole thing about being made to feel subhuman for not being strong enough could be explored in such an interesting and even more powerful way if he really never got that strong. If he didn't ever have to be the warrior, if just being a cook like he always wanted to be was enough. Of course all the Strawhats contribute to the fights, but if he had more of a supportive role like Chopper that could be so interesting when it comes time to explore his insecurities. Going from 'the standards you were being held to are completely unreasonable and there's nothing wrong with being human' to 'you don't have to be strong at all, it's okay to just be you' could be soooo good. HE WOULD SUFFER SO MUCH MORE. But I think he'd end in an even healthier place. The journey could be so interesting.
AS FOR NAMI!!! She could be more like Zoro, fighting with the words of someone she lost in her mind. Bellemere told her to never lose to anyone, that girls have to strong too. It could be such a good what-if parallel to Kuina. If Kuina had a supportive adult encouraging her that she can be strong too, if her father hadn't been sexist, she could have gone just as far as Zoro does. The proof that her gender never made her inferior fighting right alongside him. God it'd be soooo satisfying and it'd make the message so much stronger. Also, Nami's slow development of becoming braver could be in the forefront. She'd have to fight herself so much harder to constantly be on the front lines. Plus, the comedy of an incredibly powerful person being a scaredycat is too good.
Which of course brings up, what happens to the scaredycat duo? I think the answer is related to what happens to Sanji's advice to Usopp in Water Seven. I think just because AU Sanji isn't strong, that doesn't mean he becomes any more fearful or less likely to put himself in harms way. Instead of the background gag of Nami and Usopp cowering together, it could change to Usopp constantly having to brave the battlefield to drag Sanji back out of it. I think they'd fight a lot, but very differently from Zoro and Sanji's fighting. Usopp gets mad because he doesn't want Sanji to get hurt, and it's hard to be truly hostile to someone with those kind of intentions.
Remember when Usopp reassured Chopper that 'it's okay to run away, just do what you can do'? And some of the others kinda made fun of him, like, 'That's your motto eh Usopp?'. He was telling Chopper what he wanted to hear, but much later we find he didn't really believe it, not when it's for himself. He also told Chopper it's okay when Merry's mast broke under his watch, "because we can replace the mast, but we can't replace you!" I think AU Usopp would be saying this kind of thing to Sanji all the time. They'd be very close. So when Usopp's insecurity gets the better of him in Water Seven, it's a huge betrayal for Sanji specifically. How could he say those things to him if all this time, he didn't really mean them? If it's not true for Usopp, where does that put Sanji?
It could go a lot of other ways too, though. Maybe their close relationship based on not being the strongest and being okay with it together would enable Sanji to talk Usopp down from leaving. Or, bad version, Sanji could take it just as personally as Usopp does, since Usopp is to him what Merry is to Usopp, and they both leave. God, they'd all be so heartbroken. Lots to think about...
As for Nami, I think she'd be a lot closer with Zoro. They'd be bickering all the time, but it would have that trust that Zoro and Luffy have underneath it. That if one of them needs a break, the other is there to pick up the slack. This is already their dynamic in a different way, both acting as secondary leaders, keeping things from getting too out of control. To me the best example of that is Whiskey Peak, when they're the only two who weren't fooled. I think it would help both of them retain their silliness if they were always on equal footing, fighting side-by-side. Some of my favorite East Blue moments are the couple of times they played jokes on the others together, and I think we'd see a lot more of that. When you trust the person next to you to be perfectly in-step with you, it's a lot easier to have fun even in dangerous situations.
I think especially Zoro needs help keeping his goofy side, and for Nami it'll help her get over her fears to have her reliable best friend right there egging her on. I just think they'd have a lot of fun!
Nami & Usopp, Zoro & Sanji, they're both fun dynamics, but I'd love to switch it up. There's just so much possibility to explore...
#my posts#my aus#nami#nami & zoro#sanuso#I mean. yeah. it would be.#plus i miss the poly triad vibes of the romance dawn trio. bring them back to me....
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Pedro boys and why I'm swiping left on their tinders
This is all to be silly!! I love them all very much <3
Frankie Morales
His name there says Frankie (Catfish)....with his main profile picture being him holding you guessed it...a catfish. He doesn't have many other photos on there, with the exception of a few older military photos that are so blurry you can hardly tell which one he's meant to be.
The rest of his page is pretty empty aside from the music section, where you actually get the first real glimpse at what this man is about. While his music selection is very respectable, it does not overshadow the glaring issues with his profile.
In short, Frankie's profile makes you think "Am I dating the man? The fish? Or a catfish?" Swiping left fs.
Marcus Moreno
This one isn't his fault! His profile is perfect. No really. All the women at The Heroics made sure to help him with it! His photos are cute and show off all his best assets. The bio is a little cheesy in an endearing "yeah he's definitely a dad" way. The problem then? It's Marcus fucking Moreno!!! Leader of the Heroics!!!!!! On Tinder???? There's no way anyone is going to believe it's really him. I believe there's a verification option on Tinder now, but really...even then Idk. Unless he fully comes out on an interview or something to super casually mention he's on Tinder, it just ain't working. No one likes a catfish! (Sorry Frankie!)
Jack Daniels
Mr. "Tinder What?" himself!!!! Let's say he manages to figure out how to set up a profile and all that. It's gonna be inTERESTING to say the least. His photos are actually pretty solid. An intriguing mix of photos of him on the ranch and photos of him in the Statesmen HQ looking very well put together. Opening line is definitely "Save a Horse! Ride a Cowboy! 🤠♥️" Very on brand for him. Followed by something very pro-american about the flag or serving his country and honestly... that's where I'm gone 😅. We get to see a bit of Jack's political mind in Kingsman and let's just say i don't wanna know the rest of it.
I'm grateful this is Tinder and not Bumble. Because if Jack used the audio prompt and I heard that smooth Kentucky accent...forget EVERYTHING I just said. I would be taking a chance on him. Sorry 😔 I can't fix him, but I will have fun trying!!
Joel Miller
For namesake, we're gonna set this pre-outbreak. There's no time for swiping in the apocalypse. Profile isn't bad just very empty. He's not really trying and it's kinda obvious. His bio reads something along the lines of "Single dad of a spoiled teen" with mostly photos of himself and Sarah on his profile. A few photos of him and Tommy out camping or on a work site.
And as handsome as he is, the profile feels like something his kid forced him to make as a way of getting him off her back. I wanna sympathize and help her out, but I don't know I have the heart to attempt to win over this very clearly emotionally unavailable DILF. So for that reason, I'm swiping left.
Pero Tovar
If for some ungodly reason Pero was given Internet access and had a dating profile... it'd be a disaster. His bio reads something along the lines of "I don't open this app. If you wish to see me meet me at this pub" with approximate days and times he's there.
The first picture on his profile is a way too far away blurry shot of him training. If I was feeling brave enough to continue scrolling through his photos...the rest would certainly be borderline explicit highly suggestive photos of his torso and groin. And whilst I might think about it for approximately .25 seconds any remaining sense of dignity would kick in before I actually did anything about it. It'll sting momentarily, but I will be swiping left.
Ezra
Another man on this list who should absolutely NOT be given internet access. His photos are beautiful but uninformative...the only shots of him are blurred and artistically obscure. He pads the rest of his profile with photos of books he's reading and grainy shoots of the forest.
The bio...if there's a word limit best believe that Ezra has hit it. He used every given character at his disposal and managed to say very little with all of it. Something about a wandering spirit longing for companionship and a couple sexual innuendos for good measure.
While visually and verbally not the worst profile on this list, his pretension is so utterly palpable through the screen I actually don't think I'd be able to make it through the end of his bio without cringing...also his music selection is all just banjo instrumental???
#am writes#pedro pascal#pedro boys#ezra prospect#pero tovar#joel miller#jack Daniels#marcus moreno#frankie morales#pedro pascal characters
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yeah alright this got away from me. posting in pieces, part one is just stobin, no shippy stuff. steddie and rockie to follow. i'll drop it on ao3 once all 3 parts are done
now on ao3!
platonic stobin
rating: t
wc: 3.5k
---
Robin stopped being surprised by Steve Harrington showing up at her bedroom window months ago. Jesus, there's a sentence her 16 year old self wouldn't fucking believe for a second. The Hair, climbing up the trellis her dad built for the roses her mom planted and then forgot about three months later? Yeah right, as if. But it turns out alternate dimensions and sci-fi movie monsters and Russian conspiracies in Bumfuck, Nowhere, USA are all real, so how surprising really is The King himself, collapsing through her window with all the grace of a baby giraffe, out of breath like he- holy shit, did he fucking run here?
"Dingus, did you run here? What the hell?"
"Had to- hang on, Jesus. Holy shit." He bends over, hands on his knees, panting like he just ran a marathon. Which, she guesses, he almost did.
"You have a car, you lunatic, what could possibly be so important?"
"Didn't think about it. Had to get here."
"Is someone dead?!" Oh fuck, Is the Upside Down back? Oh shit, oh no, it can't be back, right? Superhero girl closed the gates! Right?! Oh god, oh no, oh fuck, it's back, the Russians are back, they realized they couldn't let her live after what she's seen, her parents will never even know what happened to her, and they'll kill Dingus too, and dorky little Henderson, and that menace Erica, oh god, they're gonna die, and Hopper's gone and superhero girl is far away and she doesn't have superpowers anymore anyway, which is frankly bogus because what the hell, Robin never even got to hang out with a real live magic person before, which, ok, that's a selfish thought, but that's ok, we can think selfish thoughts and then set them aside and not act on them, thoughts are not actions, thoughts happen all the time without our consent, they don't determine our character-
"Bobs, you're spiraling. Nothing bad happened, I just realized something and I freaked out and I had to talk to you right away. Forgot to call. Sorry, I should have called. Ran straight out of the house. I don't even think my shoes match, what the fuck?"
She's gonna kill him, she really is.
She loves him so much.
"Jesus, you're insane. Sit, you absolute dweeb. I'm getting you some water, when I get back you can tell me what the hell is going on."
He's sitting on her bed when she gets back upstairs, staring at something in his hands. Christ, his hands are shaking. What the fuck, Dingus?
He takes the water and downs it in one go- ugh, sports guys- then flops onto his back and covers his eyes with a miserable groan.
"I know we've got the whole twin telepathy thing going on, bubba, but I'm gonna need at least a little bit to work with here. Give me something. Is it your parents? The kids? Uh, what was her name? From Thursday? Janice?"
"Janine, and no. Ugh. Here." The arm not covering his eyes flops out towards her, holding- ah. A zine. He had promised to drive up to Indy last weekend to the secret bookshop she told him about and get her some new ones, even though she couldn't go with him because her cousin Randy got caught cheating on his fiancée and her parents made her come with the rest of the family to help him move. Fucking Randy. Maybe he should make better choices, so the rest of them wouldn't have to clean up his messes. Jerk.
Anyway.
"Marked the page." Which, yep, there's a purple paper clip stuck to a page near the middle, because Steve knows how much she hates people who dogear books, even books that aren't really books at all, so he's been training himself out of it, because he's sort of the best. Again, 16 year old Robin would have her committed for thinking that, but here we are.
The pamphlet isn't one of the periodicals she sent him for, so he must have picked it up on his own. It looks handmade, just some folded sheets that look like they came out of a typewriter, bound with the kind of twine you can buy at the hardware store. It's called Awakenings. The page he's marked looks like a personal essay, no title, no real signature, just a pair of initials at the end of the page and a half of writing. She starts reading, trying to figure out what the hell spooked Steve so bad.
"I've always been normal. I've always had crushes on men, just like the other girls. There was never a feeling of "I'm different," or "Oh, this is wrong." There was never anything to think very hard about. I'd giggle and blush when the boys looked over at us on the playground, same as everyone else. Later on when I was older I looked at my poster of Harrison Ford, shirtless and hairy and sweating, and I touched myself, and it felt good, just like it was supposed to. I didn't mind thinking of my future husband, and our future kids, and the pretty house with the pretty garden we'd have, just like my parents have, just like they wanted for me. I was normal. Everything was fine.
I thought everything about me was normal. So I didn't understand why the other girls at sleepover parties would giggle and stop and say "Ew, gross!" when we practiced kissing. It felt nice! I wanted to keep going! But it seemed like no one else did. I didn't understand why none of them talked about getting butterflies in their stomach when Laura, who was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, transferred in our senior year, why they seemed so angry at her. Those butterflies were what jealousy felt like, right? So why did the other girls seem to feel so different?
I made my first lesbian friend in college, on the very first day, right across the hall in my dorm. We sat next to each other at Orientation and I thought I'd never have another best friend that wonderful in my whole life, so I'd hold on to her with everything I had. She came out to me the night before Christmas break, hiding under the blankets in my dorm room with the twinkling lights glowing. She was so scared. I held her and told her I loved her no matter what, and she seemed so glad, to have someone to talk to.
When she talked about falling in love with girls, I was so confused. The way she described it sounded like what it felt like to have girlfriends, I was sure. I felt that all the time. I asked her if she was sure she was gay, and she looked so shocked and angry and hurt, and I didn't know how to fix it, so I tried to explain. That what she felt couldn't be liking girls, because I felt that too, and I was normal. I liked boys, so I couldn't be gay. I couldn't be.
I'm glad it was her I said all that to. If someone else had told me about being bisexual, I think I would have hated them. I would have cried, and screamed, and said horrible things. Because I wasn't gay, I was normal, and it was so scary to think that might be a lie. Thank God it was her, my best friend in the world, who I never want to lose. Thank God I listened.
Because I'm not normal. I'm queer. I like men, and I like women. I can love them both the same, but it doesn't matter anymore, because I love her. I love her, and she loves me, and I don't need to be normal anymore."
Robin's face feels wet, which probably means she's crying. She cries a lot, reading these sorts of stories, in the zines she has to keep hidden under her bed, or, these days, at Steve's house. It's never going to be her, she knows. Not here in Hawkins, but it still makes something ache deep inside her, like pressing on a bruise, but in a good way, seeing love happen to other people. People like her. Seeing that it can.
"So?"
Oh shit. Right, Dingus. They're about him right now. Something about this essay in particular freaked him out.
"Uh. It's. A nice essay? I'm glad things worked out for them?"
Stevie lets out a pathetic whine, sort of like back at Scoops when he earned a particularly bad tally on the You Suck board. "Robbiiiiiiieeeee!"
"I'm sorry! I think I'm missing something, what's wrong with this essay? I don't get it, bubba, I'm sorry. I need some context." She does feel bad. Usually she can pluck whatever's bothering him right out of his brain and into the light, where it almost never looks as bad, but she's at a loss right now.
He's got both hands over his face again, and his response is so muffled she can't make out a word.
"Try again in human sounds, please."
"Ugh! I thought everyone felt like that!"
Huh? "Felt like...what, exactly?"
"Like that!" He flails wildly at the pamphlet in her hands. He's sitting up now, hair all askew from tugging at it, and there's a vaguely worrying crazed look in his eye, like right before he tackled that guard. "Like kissing boys and girls both feel nice, and like seeing a handsome guy and feeling jealous of him makes my stomach flutter, and like having friends feels the same as having crushes! I thought that was just how everyone felt all the time!"
Oh.
Oh.
Oh no.
Poor Dingus! No wonder he panicked and ran here like a crazy person!
"Stevie, can I hug you? Please?" She's not much for physical touch most of the time, but Steve is, and also she's found in the last few months that she doesn't mind so much when it's him. She sort of understands why other people like hugs so much, if they always feel like hugging Steve feels for her. And she really thinks he needs to be hugged, right now.
He nods miserably. She drapes her arms around his shoulders and holds on as tight as she can, hauling him sideways until he's practically laying down on her. He clutches her back and buries his face in her shoulder. She can feel her neck getting wet with tears, a sensation that would normally make her want to claw off her own skin, but this isn't about her. Dingus needs her.
"It's ok, bubba. I'm so sorry. I know how scary this is. When I first figured out I had a crush on Linda Sanderson I cried so hard I threw up, you know? I get it. It's gonna be ok, I promise. We'll make it ok. We faced down evil Russians and giant meat monsters, what's a little sexuality crisis, huh? We got this! We're the goddamn Wonder Twins!"
He snorts at that, which she's pretty sure leaves snot on her neck, which. Ew. Still. Problems for Later Robin.
"We are not, Will and El are the Wonder Twins."
"Uh, nope, no chance, I barely even met them so therefore I am vetoing their application. Sorry kiddos, better luck next time! Find your own nickname, losers!"
Steve sits back, laughing, and she preens a little at being able to bring him back from the brink so easily. She loves him so much she feels like she's glowing with it, sometimes. It almost makes her wish she was straight, because what girl is she ever going to find who loves her this much? But only almost, because. Well. Girls, amiright? Phew.
"So what now, Stevie? You wanna say it out loud? That helps, sometimes. You wanna not say it out loud? You wanna go to a gay bar and find you a boy? You wanna never think about it again? It's totally your call."
"Say it out loud, huh?"
"Hm. It took me like a month, and then the first time I could only say it sitting in the back of my closet with the bedroom door locked and the closet door closed, and I could only whisper it. Just "I'm a lesbian," to myself, like the world's most ironic little goblin. And I had to throw up again after. But it did feel good, once I rinsed my mouth out, anyway. Cleansing, you know? And it gets easier every time." Steve's eyebrows are raised and he's chuckling again, so that's a win. She's not lying, but it is sort of funny, she supposes. In hindsight, anyway.
"Ok. Ok, I can do that. I think. Yeah, I can do that."
She's so proud of him. He's the bravest person she's ever met, she thinks. "You wanna get in the closet?"
"Isn't the whole point to come out of the closet, Robs?" He's smirking at her. Bastard. She whacks him in the shoulder on principle. He may be having a crisis, but he's still a jackass. Her favorite jackass in the whole world, but still.
"Har har, you're a regular Bob Hope. Alright then, bigshot, let's hear it."
A little of that fear creeps back onto his face, and she wishes she could wipe it off, but that's not how this works. They can't make the scary things less scary. He couldn't make the Russians less terrifying, but he could hold her hand and make her laugh and carry some of that fear with her. She can do that for him now, too.
She grabs his hand, and he clutches back tightly. He takes a deep breath.
"I'm...fuck. Ok. Ok, I can do this. I'm...bisexual." The air leaves him in a big whoosh, and he laughs a little. "Yeah, ok, fuck. I'm bisexual. Holy shit, Robbie, I'm bisexual!"
"Hell yeah you are!" She's grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. She's so fucking proud of him.
He's laughing again, a little hysterically, and he hugs her tight again, and she holds him back just as close and thinks oh, he's like me. I'm not alone. I have Steve, and he's like me, and he's mine forever and ever.
When they separate, she looks at him seriously.
"So do you, like, want this to be a thing? Because we can totally make it a thing, and like, get me a fake ID and go to a gay bar and do all kinds of wild shit if you want, but we don't have to, you know? If you need to just, like. Digest this, for a while. It's totally up to you, I just know it took me a while to feel ok with it, and I have no idea if it's different for you but I just want to be what you need, you know? You've been so good with me, and I've never had a queer friend before, so I don't know how, but I want to be just as good to you. You're my Dingus and I love you and I don't know how much of a gay guru I can be on account of, you know, I've never met any gay people besides me and the pretty lady at the bookstore but I couldn't even get real human words to come out of my mouth when I tried to talk to her so I don't think that counts, you know? But I still wanna help! Let me help!"
"Bobbie! Bobbie breathe, you're gonna pass out. I don't think I need a gay guru, I just need a gay best friend, and I have that, so I promise I'm good, ok? Promise. Also I love you too.”
She takes a deep breath, following his lead the way they worked out in the horrible days after Starcourt, when she couldn't sleep without him next to her, warm and alive and breathing, and even then she would wake up in the night with her breath coming short and her vision tunneling and Steve would hold her hand against his chest and breathe slowly, in and out, until she could follow him, and the world wasn't so terrible and scary and loud anymore.
She still thinks about that awful hour underground, thinking she was strapped to the corpse of a boy she never let become her friend, but Steve is always there now when she needs him, and he never complains when she grabs his wrist or puts her head on his chest to make absolutely sure that big, stupid heart is still beating.
When she's breathing normally again, he drops their joined hands down between them, toying idly with the chain linking her ring to her bracelet. "I think...I think I'm glad I said it, and I'm glad we talked about it, but can we maybe just...put it away, for a while? Like it's not...ugh. I guess this is kind of shitty to say, so like, hit me if you want, I guess, but I kind of don't think it matters right now?"
"No no, that makes perfect sense! Like, you still like girls, right?" He nods. "And you don't like. Have a crush on any boys right now. Or do you? Oh man if you do you have to tell me though, it's platonic soulmate law. It's in the bylaws, Steve, don't make me soulmate fine you!"
He laughs and shoves her face away. "Jesus, Rob, no! I don't have a crush on any guys, who would I even crush on in this town? We're not exactly swimming in eligible bachelors. I don't have a crush on anybody at all, I'd tell you, I swear. I know the rules!"
"Oh phew, good. You have to tell me when you do, though, I'm way excited to get you back for making fun of Tammy."
"It was the God's honest truth, Bobbie! She sings like a muppet!"
"Oh my god, shut up, Dingus! Ugh! As I was saying, you super duper have to tell me when you do, but for now, I think maybe you don't have to think about it really at all if you don't want. I mean, practically speaking, it's not really relevant to your everyday life, so we can totally revisit when that changes, but you don't have to like. Join a pride parade tomorrow, you know? You are you who are no matter what. You don't have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to me, not ever."
He leans his head on her shoulder, and she scritches her nails through his hair. It really has no right being as soft as it is, with the amount of hairspray he uses. It's frankly rude, is what it is.
"Thanks, Bobs. I think I'm just gonna put it away for now. It just...another thing to know about me, you know? Like, I'm bad at fighting people but good at fighting monsters, all my best friends are kids except you, I'm bi but it doesn't matter because there aren't any boys to date in Hawkins anyway. Plus my dad would kill me if he found out. Like actually kill me, not "oh geez I missed curfew, my dad's gonna kill me" type kill me, like I think he'd actually try and beat me to death. So there's really no reason to talk about it right now, you know?"
There's a pit of ice in her stomach, and she tightens her arm around him like she can keep him safe just by holding on tight enough. She hates how casually he said that, just like she hates how casually he always talks about how his parents treat him, like he honestly believes it's normal. "Jesus, Dingus. You know you can come here if you need, right? My parents love you, they already think we're getting married. They'd make you sleep in the guest room, but I could sneak you in here easy."
He snorts again. "We're totally gonna end up married for tax reasons anyway, we're never beating the rumors." That makes her snort, too. He's not wrong, though. She isn't going to be allowed to have a wife anytime soon, and if she has to choose someone to be her next of kin, it's always gonna be him. They're planning to move in together when she goes to school next year anyway. No one is ever gonna believe them that they aren't dating, but that's...fine. Honestly, there are worse things. Better to have Steve by her side than not, and if no one else understands them, well, they understand each other, don't they? That's more than enough.
"Yeah, I know I can come here if I need, Robs. It's fine mostly, I swear. They're not home until Christmas anyway."
He takes another deep breath, like he's settling himself. "I'm just glad we talked about it. I feel better now."
She cards her fingers through his hair again, basking in the feeling of her favorite person so close, and so content. "I'm glad, Dingus."
They're alive, and they're together, and they're queer, and neither of them is ever going to have to be alone again.
"Hang on, did you say you've kissed girls and boys?!"
part 2 part 3
#stranger things#platonic stobin#steve harrington & robin buckley#steve harrington#robin buckley#bisexual steve harrington#steve's bi awakening#my writing#robin calls steve bubba and steve calls her bobbie and i will die on both those hills#you can pry their weird nicknames from my cold dead hands#autistic robin buckley#it’s subtle but it’s there and it’s important to me#also her parents are therapists i’m sure of it
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Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, stalking, abduction, manipulation, threats, intimidation
Tags: @leveyani @kanaosprotector
This is fine
Kamado Nezuko
💕Nezuko's clinginess and atalking tendencies aside, I think the biggest problem you are going to face is her protective brother who, whilst smelling that you have no bad intentions, is still showing a tad bit of caution. Whilst Nezuko is able to tell that her darling is uncomfortable and that her questionable actions play part in it, she is genuinely not able to grasp the full extent of the situation which is why you get more often comforting head pats as if that will help you to calm down. It isn't like Nezuko is very frightening but she is still someone who goes where you go and who even stalks you, even when you are asleep. Admittedly, she is partially quite protective in doing this too. When you do grow more comfortable around her, she senses that and whilst she may not be able to detect what exactly happened to solve the problem of your feelings, she is happy now that you are feeling happy too and finally stops fussing over you now that there is nothing she feels like she has to worry about.
Kocho Shinobu
🦋Shinobu of course knows about her obsession but she has done well to hide it behind her sweet facade so far, although eventually all secrets have to be exposed in the face of danger. She is such a little menace with her sweet smile but her threatening aura to the point where you are scared of the woman who knows the one or other thing about poisoning someone. There is always something fake about Shinobu in the way she presents herself which keeps you on your toes. I reckon it is probably when she has the heart to open up to you that your perspective slowly changes as you see a vulnerable and genuine side she hasn't shown you before. Shinobu, as witty and quick-minded as ever, recognises how your feelings start changing and feels happy about it. Yes, she is using that a tiny bit to her advantage but at the same time she starts giving you trust she hasn't given you before. A part of her is still fully committed to poisoning you if you were to try to escape her though.
Rengoku Kyojuro
🔥It is not common for a man to choose another man as a romantic partner but Kyojuro brushes off all possible criticism with a fierce enthusiasm that scares the people who had to give their comment in the first place. It is that enthusiasm and his sheer determination that is your problem though as Kyojuro has his beliefs that do not waver. He is convinced that your relationship will work, he is determined that he has to protect you as his lover no matter your own status and sometimes all of this can be downright oppressing. It is just exhausting to argue with him because he will never listen to the words that go against his own determination and conviction. So instead of arguing you at one point just embrace the flames of his feelings as you are too tired to fight against him and that is how you start getting used to him and his behavior. Kyojuro himself is highly pleased as he sees that you start seeing his point of view, as optimistic as ever and more loving now that all tension is gone.
Daki
🌺How can you not love her?! As someone who has been spoiled by her brother and who has always been praised as a beautiful woman, Daki is very entitled as she genuinely believes that you have to love her simply because. The wariness you present her with though is not what she expects and she makes her upset feelings quite clear to you as she insults you, screams at you and throws her temper tantrums where you even get hurt as you are the first man who has not kneeled before her beauty. Accusations and wrong ideas that you do not find her beautiful are in her head and she cries to her brother that she has never been insulted like that before in her life. Honestly, there is no way that the isolation doesn't play a part in your change of heart around Daki. You would do yourself a favor by having that change of heart quick though and in return Daki will do a real 180 as her pride is restored and she feels validated that she can win ever men's heart which then allows her to spoil you and praise you for your adoration.
Kibutsuji Muzan
🩸What gender you are honestly doesn't matter because Muzan will still discriminate against you simply for being a human. He doesn't tolerate anything but obedience and fear in everyone he faces so of course you have to displease him straight away. Human, know your place. He is cruel and terrible but he believes that he has the right to do so due to his own god complex so you get little to no mercy whenever you anger him in any way and as you find out pretty soon, he has a terrible temper. I call Stockholm Syndrome because with the way he treats you, there is no way you would fall willingly in love. Muzan has disciplined and trained you to behave properly after all because your previous behavior was intolerable in his eyes. I'm not saying that he treats you good after his training but he treats you somewhat better for as long as you show him the respect he believes he deserves. Then you may get some praise from his side and more affection as you now know how to behave in his presence.
#yandere demon slayer#yandere kimetsu no yaiba#yandere kny#yandere nezuko#yandere kamado nezuko#yandere shinobu#yandere kocho shinobu#yandere kyojuro#yandere rengoku kyojuro#yandere daki#yandere muzan#yandere kibutsuji muzan
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