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dancingtotuyo · 11 months ago

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Kryptonite | Dave York x Reader | One Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT/Mature

Summary: Running into Dave York changes your life and unleashes a new part of yourself.

Inspired by Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Tags: dark!Dave York, infidelity, Germany, song fic

Warnings: infidelity, violence and descriptions of violence, death (not Dave or reader), descriptions of blood, murder, self defense, explicit smut (p in v), oral sex (both m & f receiving), heavy groping, choking, smacking/hitting in a sexual manner, knife play, power dynamics, use of “daddy” in a sexual manner (minimal), consensual sex, possible dub con, cream pie

Notes: I wrote this one for the LOML @janaispunk for Christmas 🫶, though you won’t find it filled with Christmas festivities! Huge shout out to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for listening to my ideas, reading through it, and being an overall huge encourager!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PAY EXTRA ATTENTION TO WARNINGS ON THIS ONE

Words: 7160

THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND DARK THEMES. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR THOSE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

“I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.”

Dave York isn’t a bad guy. If one were to give him a chance, he would explain how he’s actually one of the good guys. He’s simply standing up for those who have been wronged by the fucked up system that abandoned the ones who do the dirty work. It’s all conjecture. How he rationalizes it all away. How he lets himself sleep at night, and go home to his wife and beautiful daughters. He does this for them. He isn’t a bad guy.

Yet, even he starts to see through his bullshit. He won’t admit it, but it’s getting harder to sleep at night. Tonight is one of those nights. That’s how he finds himself wandering the streets of a German city he can’t remember the name of.

The air is just verging on chilly, the breeze whipping at his typically well-kempt hair. He usually keeps to the shadows when he’s managing his side business, worried about being picked up on a camera, but it’s late now. He keeps out of the street lights, the stars shielded by the light pollution.

He inhales deeply. This time tomorrow he’ll be on a flight back to the States and slide into bed next to his wife. He’ll wake up, make lunch for the girls, and take them to school. The perfect all-American family. Dave loves them. His girls are his world. He is doing this for them. Every smile and giggle makes this all worth it. Alice and Molly deserve the world. Sometimes, he wonders if his wife knows. Carol hasn’t said anything, but sometimes he catches her just staring at him. Logic says she just loves him. How many times early on in their life together had he done the same thing? How long has it been since he looked at her with that awe?

If he’s honest, Dave doesn’t give his marriage much thought anymore. It’s something that’s just there like two planets orbiting each other but never intersecting. It’s something that’s just part of the persona of Dave York. The version of him his friends and family know. He is starting to wonder if that man still exists. He’s found himself feeling freer during his “work trips” than he does at home.

If it weren’t for his girls…

Dave can’t finish the thought as he collides with a woman in a blue dress and billowing feather boas wrapped around her neck. You.

“Oh shit!” Dave’s hands shoot out, steadying your form, one on each shoulder.

You let out a soft snort quickly covering it with a giggle. “Oh my god.” You try to sober but fail before another giggle takes over. You buzz with the carefree energy of someone a couple drinks into the evening but not wasted.

Any words forming in Dave’s head die there. Your eyes sparkle with mischief. Your smile leaves him stunned. He’s seen his fair share of women even as a married man, but never crossed the boundary of infidelity. Dave doesn’t label what is about to happen as infidelity because right now he isn’t Dave York from Arlington, Virginia, father to two and husband. Right now, he’s Dave York private gun for hire, or Patrick Smith born in Pennsylvania if you looked at his passport.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Dave’s hands don’t move from your shoulders. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Dave flashes a smile, the same one he used to pick up Carol years ago, but she’s the furthest thing from his mind right now. “I should be more aware of my surroundings. Especially with such a beautiful woman about.”

Your cheeks flush with heat. He has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not from the alcohol in your system. Dave has never been above sweet-talking to get his way during his time with the agency. “You’re American.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Dave winks. You laugh. Dave swears he could listen to that sound every day if given the chance. “But are you with anyone? It’s late. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out here all alone.”

You tilt your head to the side, life glowing in your eyes. Whether you’re always like this or it’s all alcohol-induced, Dave doesn’t know, but he wants to find out. He needs to know.

“And I’m supposed to trust you, Mr. America.”

He chuckles, looking up at the sky for a moment before bringing his gaze back to you. He can’t stop taking you in. You feel like a breath of fresh air in his stifling life. He smiles, the first time he’s felt fully himself in possibly years. “My name is Dave.”

You glance between his hand and his face, sussing out if he is trustworthy. He seems so, comes across as genuine. He’s a bit older than you, but handsome nonetheless with big brown eyes and the sincerity of a well-raised child.

You inhale deeply, choosing to be a little wreckless for once and jump head first into something. What’s the worst that could happen? You take his hand.

“I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon.”

It’s probably a stupid choice, but Dave gives you his number. His real number. He doesn't have enough time to see you again before he leaves Germany and he isn’t ready to let this go yet. He escorts you safely to your apartment, chatting idly over the 10-minute walk and the 30 minutes you spend on the front stoop. As he goes to leave, you stand on tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. In return, he pushes you against the front door, hands roaming up your sternum. You giggle at him like a smitten schoolgirl and hand him your phone.

Dave has a second number. He could’ve given you that one. He probably should have, but he wants easier access. He risks it. Dave is not a careless man, but he leans into the easiness of it in the moment. He kisses you again before leaving, much more chastely this time. He promises to see you next time he’s in town. He tells you he does business in Germany often. It won’t be long.

His veins buzzed with electricity the whole walk back to his apartment, his body alive in a way that feels almost supernatural. As he crosses the threshold, his phone pings with a text from an unknown number. Dave knows who it is before he looks at the text.

Over the next two weeks, Dave finds himself instantly reaching for his phone with each ping. The time difference is a pain in the ass but sometimes works in Dave’s favor. Like when Carol is sound asleep and you’re wide awake across the sea.

When the call comes through from a contact that they’re ready to move in on a target in Germany, Dave almost jumps up in celebration. He’s never hit the tarmac with his bags packed so fast. He tacks on a couple extra days to visit you.

Those extra days can’t come soon enough. He always prides himself on his ability to compartmentalize. He can tune out the rest of the world, get a job done with the precision of the assassin he is, and return to life as if nothing happened, but this time, he finds himself rushing through the process, eager to get to the finish line, eager to get to you.

However, when the night of the hit comes, he slips right into Dave York The Killer, cold, heartless, robotic. The crew is smaller this trip, the target not as high profile, but still a big payout. He forces himself to stay steady, forces himself not to speed through his progressions. The team doesn’t notice a difference in him. He takes that as a good sign. The target is asleep, alone, thank god.

Dave slides the knife into the victim’s chest. He’s lying if he says he doesn’t find a particular beauty in it. The firm pressure, the slice of the knife, the crimson blood. It’s always a rush, the planning, the practice, the kill, and Dave enjoys it all. This particular hit sends an extra rush of pleasure through his veins.

He takes the train to get to you, fighting the urge to show up on your doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. Dave York is not a patient man, but he somehow manages, pacing his hotel room still as he buzzes with the high of the night’s hit and the excitement of seeing you in the morning. You recommended meeting at a small cafe, but as Dave lays awake with the sun peeking through the curtains, he decides to surprise you at the apartment.

Dave has to force himself not to rush, which seems to be becoming a theme with him. He makes himself a cup of coffee in the hotel room and sits down drinking every drop until he can’t stand to wait any longer, leaving his hotel 30 minutes before he needs to.

Dave could’ve taken time to enjoy the city in daylight. He spends so much of his time in these destinations under the cover of darkness, missing the beauty, but he doesn't. He wants to believe he keeps to his training, keeping an eye out for someone following him and staying out of the view of cameras, but the truth is, he’s completely unaware of it all. His sole purpose is to get to you.

When your apartment building comes into view, he finally slows, aware of how early he is. Hell, he’s supposed to meet you there.

One of your curtains is open, giving him a faraway view into your apartment. Dave has fully accepted that he’s verging into creep territory, but he doesn’t care. It’s been two weeks since he’s laid eyes on you. That’s two weeks too long for him.

He holds his breath, waiting in anticipation for a glimpse of you, patience dwindling within a few minutes of waiting. The anticipation grows into anxiety. Did he come to the wrong building? That’s impossible. Dave never forgets places, even if he did, he would never forget yours. Are you home? Did you forget? He studies the window searching for any evidence of life. Has something happened to you? Oh god, has someone connected the two of you? Figured out his whole facade? He has half a mind to break down the door and go in guns blazing.

His phone pings. It’s the only thing that could break his concentration. Your name pops up, granting him instant relief.

See you in 20?

He smiles, glancing back up toward the window. You are okay. Everything is okay because Dave is a smart man. He knows how to cover his tracks, and you are a sacred treasure he wants to keep all to himself. He will hide you away, protect you from it all.

He catches the subtle flutter of the curtains. The world around him becomes nonexistent as his full attention is pulled toward the window. She moves into view, head whipping around as you search for a specific item. He smiles, all of the anxiety leaving his body.

Instead of responding via text, he hits the call button. The dial tone plays against his ear. She moves out of view, no doubt searching for her cell.

“Hello?”

A smile overtakes his face. Dave can’t remember the last time one did so effortlessly. “Look out your window, Darling.”

His voice sits low in his chest, sending shivers through your body. You pull back the curtain. Dave waves down below. “Are you stalking me now?”

“It’s not stalking if you showed me where you live.”

You bite back your smile, heat gathering in your cheeks. “We were supposed to meet there.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

“Give me two minutes.” You say and the line goes dead.

Dave watches you zip away from the window. The swinging of the curtains is the only indication you were ever there. His chest tightens as he waits. Dave York considers himself a patient man, but he checks his watch for the 5th time in two minutes.

Then your door swings open. You come barreling toward him, a smile plastered to your face. It’s contagious as Dave chuckles, spinning you around like an episode of The Bachelor. His lips are warm against your cheek. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine as your feet plant on the ground. Dave’s warm brown eyes meet yours. “How can you miss someone you’ve hardly seen?”

“How can someone not miss you?” He laughs, fingers weaving with yours.

“You lie, Dave.”

“I could never lie to you.” He winks.

Dave holds your hand all the way to the cafe. He pays for your meal. He’s engaging, charming, making conversation, desperate to know everything he can about you. You’ve never felt such intention from another person.

After the cafe, you walk through town, hand in hand in broad daylight. The conversation continues to flow as naturally as a river. Dave is captivated. There’s no other word for it. He wants you. He never wants to leave. He thinks he may need you for survival.

You steer your steps toward your apartment. There’s a time and a place for subtlety. Today is not that. Dave picks up on it, catching the dilation of your pupils, feeling the shift between you.

But when you make it to the door, Dave plays the gentleman, asking when he can see you again. You cut him off with a kiss, tongue quickly delving into his mouth. His large hands plant solidly on your hips. You pull him inside. Dave remains respectful, but commanding. You eagerly submit to him. He stays the night.

“After all I knew it had to be something to do with you.”

Dave is losing it. One might argue that’s a bad thing. He’s not so sure as his mind is overrun with flashes of you. He’s quick to check his phone each time it dings. He knows better than to assign you a specific tone, but he wants to, even knows which one he would choose.

His team is building quite the reputation in the gun for hire business. They’re turning down jobs, having to play the cautious game of balancing their time between murder and families. They can’t arouse suspicions. They take turns staying stateside, sending in different crews depending on the job and need. Dave accepts every job within a quick train ride of you. He goes on each one. Sometimes it’s just him. Those are the easiest. He doesn’t even need to tell the team. It makes it easy to slip in, add more red to his ledger, and run to you with his hands dripping, metaphorically of course.

He can never stay more than the weekend, usually no more than a night, but you take every moment. He’s a drug you crave, an addiction you can’t kick. In fact, you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter if you never get more than a stolen night here and there, you’ll take whatever you can get running your hands over his toned muscles, tracing the scars littered over his body, some new and red, some old and faded.

It gives him an air of danger that sends a rush through you each time, like there’s darkness embedded in each scar and it seeps into you. The feeling should unnerve you. It doesn’t.

You want to ask, but you bite your tongue. They seem almost glaring compared to the person you know. Dave is sweet and gentle. The most violence you’ve seen in him is the intense fly hunt you went on last weekend as it buzzed intently around the two of you on the couch. You wonder about the stories behind each nonetheless. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

He leaves again. He always does with the promise of returning soon. He can’t give you a date. He never can. His phone rings as he walks out the door. You catch the flash of a couple on his screen and a woman’s name drops from his lips. He doesn’t know you see it. Carol.

“But still your secrets I will keep”

You’re drenched. Sweat gathers across your naked skin. Dave thrusts into your dripping pussy, cock soaked in your juices. Your moans marry together, echoing off the walls of your apartment at 2 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon.

You called out of work when he appeared on your doorstep without a warning. He seemed broody, crashing his lips onto yours with more force than you were used to, setting your body ablaze in a new way.

Dave’s hips snap into yours with greater force than usual, his grip a little tighter, but it doesn’t hurt. Not how you expect it to. You like it, this rough side, the way his large hand pins both your arms to the mattress. “You’re taking me so good, Darling. Like a good little girl.”

His words strike a chord within you. Your walls tighten around him. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers run through your sopping folds, flicking at your clit with skill and precision. Your back arches. You feel like you need to crawl out of your skin. “I’m almost there.”

“I know, baby.” He keeps pace, pushing you closer and closer.

The invisible line snaps as waves of pleasure roll over your body. Dave keeps going, so close to his own release. He’s relentless, prolonging your own orgasm.

“I want to finish inside you. Fill you up like a dirty little whore.” Your cunt clenches around him. You’re not sure why his words affect you the way they do, but you love it. He moans. “Please, Darling.”

“Yes,” You hiss, feeling as if your orgasm has started over. “Please, fill me up.”

“Fuck!” Dave thrusts into you. Once. Twice. And then he buries himself into you, filling you with every drop he has.

Once the high settles to a mild thrum and you’ve cleaned up, you sit on the bed, fresh sheets below you, watching Dave as he gathers his things off your dresser. The sex was different this time, good, mind altering.

Dave has yet to put a shirt on. There’s a scar along his back that disappears beneath the waistband on his jeans. You’ve seen it before. You know all his scars, and you’re gathering his secrets too.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” Dave says, back still turned to you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he turns to you, with worried eyes. You saw a piece of him today that no one has seen before. Of that, you have no doubt.

“No, I liked it.” A small smirk quirks your lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying some new things.” Heat pools in your belly again. That same darkness flashes in Dave’s eyes. You want to pull it out and learn it.

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

He pulls on his shirt, turning his phone back on. Your heart drops, popping the bubble. “You can’t stay.”

Dave sighs. You catch the guilt hanging off of him. “I’m sorry, Darling.”

“It’s okay…”

Dave bites his lip. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I-”

“I know you’re married.” It rolls off your lips without a second thought. You’re not sure where it comes from.

Dave’s face pales, tongue going dry as sandpaper. “Darling-”

“And I don’t care.”

The color fills his face again as he steps over to you. “How do you know?”

You shrug, laying back on the bed. “She called you when you were leaving last time. I did my research, Dave York.”

Dave isn’t sure what to think. In his line of work, it’s scary to know you found him on the internet. It’s a safety issue. If something ever happened to Molly and Alice… but he’s trusted you with much more than anyone else.

“You mean it? You don’t care?” He searches your eyes for any doubt, but finds none.

“You’re the one traveling across the ocean to see me. I also think you’re not just ‘working for the government’.”

There’s a deep growl low in his throat. He oozes evil like your favorite book to movie villain, sending shivers through your body. He cups your neck, using force to pull your lips to his. It’s hot and needy like he didn’t just spend the afternoon buried inside of you. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, fighting with yours. He grabs your ass kneading it in his palms.

Then, he pulls away, voice gravely in your ear. “One of these days I’m going to tell you every single evil thing I’ve done, and you’re going to like it.”

You gasp, toes curling. He keeps eye contact with you, searching for any sign that you might reject him for it. You don’t ask. You don’t scoff. You believe him. You’ve seen the slivers of evil before, felt them. You’re beginning to wonder if they’ve seeped into you too.

Then he’s gone, disappearing like a ghost.

“I picked you up and put you back on solid ground.”

Adrenaline pumps through your veins. Your heart pounds in your ear. You can’t tell much in the dark, except there’s a man in your apartment, clad in black, and it’s not Dave.

You clutch the kitchen knife to your chest, thankful for Dave’s obsession with keeping things sharp. His boots are steady on your hardwood floors, leaving you to wonder if you’re safe huddled in the corner, or if you should sneak up behind him. Dave taught you to attack only if you are sure you can land a debilitating blow by surprise. You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not an assassin. You’re pretty sure Dave is.

Then, you see your chance. A small opportunity where you know you’ll be hidden in the darkness, not exposed by the open window. You know which floor boards to avoid.

You expect it to go by in a blur, but your mind feels clear. The exposed point on his neck calls to you like a beacon. The artery. He’ll bleed out before he knows what’s happening. Dave’s voice echoes in your head.

Your knife sinks into his neck, slicing skin and tissue like it’s softened butter. You pull the knife out, it drips with crimson blood. He tumbles forward, your lamp shattering into a million tiny pieces as he falls forward.

“You bitch!” He manages to his feet, blood spurting out of his neck. He tries to cover it with his hand, but he’s already losing color in his face. He stumbles toward you. You easily step out of his path, sinking the knife into his chest cavity. It’s more difficult, but you know when you hit his lung.

You watch him fall to the floor, air wheezing from him like a punctured balloon as he coughs and sputters. He’s trying to speak, but can’t. You cock your head to the side, watching it happen, watching the life drain from his eyes, listening to his final breaths. You did that. You took down a man bigger than yourself with two quick blows, without hesitation.

You can feel the thick, red blood dripping off your fingers, soaking into your clothes.Your chest heaves. The knife clatters to the floor. You turn your hands over. You should want this off of you, scratching at the skin to remove it. Instead, you just stare in awe.

Dave appears, heart racing as he takes in the scene. He was gone for only a few hours. A quick job in a neighboring town. “Darling?”

You don’t respond, still inspecting your coated hands. He puts a hand on your shoulder, desperate to know that you’re okay. You jump, eyes blow wide.

“What happened?”

“I don't know. I woke up and he was here… I just- I did what you taught me.”

Your eyes focus on him. He’s in weird clothes- tactical gear. He probably killed someone tonight too.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes snap back down to your hands. Are you okay? You don’t remember getting hit or knocked over, just the steel blade sinking into flesh over and over and over.

“Darling, look at me!” His hand wraps around your neck and your back hits the wall.

Your eyes snap to him. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the deafening silence that coats your apartment. His eyes are dark. Darker than you ever remember seeing them. You think, maybe, there’s a hint of cruelty floating in them.

“You’re okay.” His eyes scan over you to assure himself as well. He reminds himself that blood is not yours.

Your eyes drift back toward the body. The body that used to house a person with a life and family and-

“Look at me.” Dave’s voice is commanding, forcing obedience. The other side of him is coming out. This is not the Dave you know. It’s the one you’ve caught glimpses of. The one he told you about. This Dave is a monster. A monster you should run from.

“You did nothing wrong. He would’ve killed you.” His hand presses into your neck again. “You did the right thing.”

You thought this moment would break you, losing your Dave, but this Dave is yours too. You thought the monster would scare you. It’s everything you’ve ever stood against, but you want the monster.

A thrill shoots through you, unlocking a deep urge. The world should be blurry, hazing like the TV shows when someone experiences a trauma, but it’s buzzing around you instead. Your senses feel heightened.

Dave says your name. You look up at him. Time stands still. He knows you know. It’s a question of if you will accept it. You shouldn’t. You’re too good for him. He shouldn’t tarnish you, but he catches that look. It’s everything he feels after a kill. The adrenaline rush, the buzz of life through your veins. Maybe he didn’t tarnish you. Maybe he unlocked something in you. Your bloodied hands tangle in his thick hair as he surges forward lips colliding with yours.

This is wrong, so wrong. Another man’s blood is literally on your hands as they tangle in Dave’s hair. You should be disgusted with yourself. This is wicked. You’ve run from the wickedness your entire life. Now you feel like you should have embraced it. He bites your lip, so hard there’s a metallic taste in your mouth. It only spurs you on. A familiar ache grows in your core. Your teeth nash against his, meeting each of his tortuous movements.

His hand squeezes your neck just enough to make your head go dizzy. You should hate this. You should despise this, but your cunt clenches again. “You like that don’t you?”

He loosens his hold, the blood rushing back quickly. It’s a new rush, crashing over the edges of your heightened senses. You feel as if every nerve ending in your body is on fire and you never want it to stop.

His rough voice presses to your ear as he caresses your exposed neck reminding you how fragile your own life is. “The little slut likes when I get rough.”

You whimper at his words, your underwear growing wetter with each passing second. His knee presses between your thigh, granting some tension to your aching core. You move your hips against it. “Not so fast, Darling.” He tightens his grip on your neck, pressing you further against the wall. “You think just because you killed him you’re in charge now?”

Another whimper falls from your lips. An involuntary tear seascapes the corner of your eyes, beginning its descent. Dave’s eyes flicker to it, head cocking to the side. His eyes look different- wild verging on insane. You should be scared, but it’s still Dave. You trust him. Then his tongue is against your cheek, wiping it away with a long, slow swipe. Your nipples pearl under your thin nightshirt.

He whispers in your ear. “I'm in charge. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“Good.”

He produces a knife out of thin air. It’s one you’ve seen before. He’s sharpened it at your kitchen counter. He brushes the tip along your collarbone. Your eyes track its every movement. It’s not enough to cut you, but enough that you can feel how sharp it is. Your heart thuds harder, but your hips move against his knee of their own accord.

He clicks his tongue, forcing the knife down in a single swift movement. You cry out, expecting to feel pain, only to find your chest exposed and your nightshirt torn down the middle. He hand gropes your breast, squeezing it like a stress ball. A gasp falls from your lips as his finger runs over your nipple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

By your neck, he leads you in front of him to the bathroom. He kicks the door shut, pressing you against it. He produces the knife again, running it through your pajama shorts. The scraps fall to the floor, leaving you in the delicate lace pair of underwear you wore in anticipation of Dave’s arrival.

His tongue clicks appreciatively. The tip of the knife traces over the lace. You whimper, eyes falling closed. He falls to his knees.

“So pretty.” Dave presses his mouth to your clothes cunt. He works his tongue over the thin fabric, pulling it between his teeth. It’s just enough to tease and not enough to provide relief.

“Dave.” It comes out so hoarse you don’t recognize your own voice.

He grins up at you, pulling the knife through your underwear with a rehearsed flick of his wrist. They join your shorts on the floor. You’re bared to him while Dave is fully clothed.

You catch the blood in his hair, splattered on his clothes. It’s drying on your skin now. You know you should be repulsed by it, but the thought of what you did still makes you buzz to life.

“Stay right there.” He eases to his feet. “I mean it. Don’t move.”

He turns on the shower, pushing the hot water all the way. As steam starts to fill the room, Dave removes his clothing item by item. He’s not making a show of it per se, but he is commanding, concise. He pulls another knife from his belt and sets it on the counter. Your breath catches and he makes eye contact. A whisper of a smirk plays on his lips. “Standing so still for me, darling.” You squeeze your legs together, feeling the familiar squelching between your vaginal lips.

You eye the knife a moment longer, biting your lip. Something about it calls out your name. You’re not sure if you should grab it and find the nearest person to plunge it into or if you want Dave to use it with you, on you.

Dave catches the glimmer in your eyes as you eye it. A newfound excitement tugs in his belly. A whole new world is opening before him. One where he doesn’t have to hide all this shit from you, one where you might enjoy it too. You’re not shutting down after killing that man, his body cooling on your living room floor. You liked it. He likes it.

He kicks off his boots and socks. His pants follow. Your eyes travel over his body. The scars make sense now. You still don’t know what Dave does, but you know it’s bad. There’s a small band across his ankle that houses another knife. You should hate him for all of this, kick him to the curb. Instead, your cunt is soaking, and you’re not sure you’ve ever wanted him more.

He chuckles as you eye the knife on his ankle. It’s the only thing he wears other than his briefs now. His dick bulges, usually pulling your attention, put you can’t pull your eyes away from the knife.

Pulling off his underwear, Dave comes back over to you, pressing his body against yours. His teeth scrape over the veins of your neck and he bites down on your earlobe as his hand tangles in your hair.

You release a soft yell. You barely recognize the man in front of you, but it doesn’t matter.

He grips your thigh, hiking it over his hip, running his dick through your sopping cunt.

“You like my knives, Darling?”

You nod as pleasure plays like a movie across your body.

He gips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Use your words.”

“Yes.” It barely comes out.

His brows raise in amusement. “Would you like me to use them?”

“You won’t hurt me.” You say it as a statement.

Flashes of his softer side show before he clamps them down. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes.” It’s almost a yell.

Without hesitation, he grabs the knife off the vanity, pressing it to your neck. “On your knees.”

You obey coming face to face with his hard cock. The knife stays against your delicate flesh.

“You know what to do, baby.”

Again, you obey, taking it into your mouth. The knife is cool against your neck, the only reminder it’s still there. You don’t know how it never pierces your flesh either by dumb luck or expert skill.

Dave’s hips thrust forward, almost triggering your gag reflex. Tears fall from your eyes. Curses sputter from Dave’s lips as he uses your mouth. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You breathe from your nose, forcing yourself to nod.

“Shit!” Dave curses, pulling out of your mouth. “I’m going to paint that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your cunt clenches as a small moan tumbles from your lips. He chuckles, hand closing around your neck once more as he ushers you into the shower.

The water is hot, burning against your skin as if it might melt your skin off. Dave holds you under the water. Your breath catches as your body screams out. The water beneath you runs red as the blood washes from your skin.

Your back hits the cool tile wall granting relief from the scalding water. He lathers soap over the parts of your body still stained red, fingers occasionally brushing under your breasts, tweaking nipples.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even covered in blood.”

You whimper again, senses overloaded from the trauma, the rush, the teasing. “Dave, please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words, Doll.”

Your walls constrict again, desperate to be around something. Your arms and legs are heavy with need. He’s never used that term with you before. It should be degrading. It is, but it sets another wave of pleasure. You wonder if it’s possible to orgasm virtually untouched. If it is, you’re close.

“Fuck me.”

His tongue clicks as he floats around yours, almost taunting you. He grabs your boob, hard enough it should hurt. It does a little, but pleasure overrides the pain.

“Ask nicely, Doll.”

His finger trails over your collarbone traveling between your breasts and down across your hip. Your thighs squeeze. His palm slips around as he grabs the back of your thigh, kneading it.

“I said.” His words come out like a punch. Concise. Almost sharp. “Ask. Nicely.” He pushes your thigh over his waist, forcing your supportive leg to your tiptoes.

You feel his cock near your entrance, brushing your pussy lips. You moan, hips bucking. He pushes against your neck, running your head into the tiles behind you. “You little slut. You think you can just take it.”

You gasp. “Please.”

“What do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me, Daddy.” It tumbles out of your lips before your brain catches up.

He thrusts his cock into you, sheathing himself fully, hitting the deepest parts of you. Then he’s gone, making you feel empty but only for a second until he enters you again. His hand squeezes tighter around your neck. You come for air as he continuously splits you apart thrust by thrust, pulling out almost fully each time.

Your moans are loud, drowned out by the steaming shower. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Dave pays you little mind, shows little care as he continues with a brutality you’ve never encountered, a brutality that only makes you soak his cock. He doesn’t slow. You don’t want him to. He never touches your clit, but you're propelling forward, chasing that high in a way you never have.

The pitch of your voice steps up. The spasm starts in your stomach traveling down to your core as you flutter around Dave’s cock. Your supporting leg shakes. Still, he never eases up, working you through your orgasm.

It hits you like a punch to the gut, a scream piercing the air. Your scream. Dave doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stutter. He keeps pace, chasing his own release.

With each thrust, you yell. You hear the squelching of your sopping cunt against his dick over the roar of the shower. His continuous movements extend your release until he finally buries himself inside you, coating your pussy with his cum. “Such a perfect little doll for me.”

You let out a final whimper as he pulls around, dropping your leg. Your knees buckle. You barely keep yourself upright, legs tingling and shaking.

Dave kisses your cheek. The softness causes a sense of whiplash. He glances over your body, making sure the blood is cleared from your skin and hair. He rinses the blood from his hair as your brain slowly returns to the world. You expect to be exhausted, and you are, but there’s still that low buzz deep within your body.

You killed a man. You took a life. You should feel bad. There’s a fucking body in your living room, but all you can think about is the rush. You liked it. Watching Dave, you wonder if he feels the same way. There’s no doubt to you that he’s taken lives before. You wonder if he knows how many.

The water stops. Dave dries you off with the soft bath towel. He helps you into his soft white t-shirt and tucks you into bed.

“I need to make a call.” He kisses your head and shuts himself in your bathroom. You hear him on the phone, but his words are muffled by the door.

You lay on your back, sheets cool against your hot skin. Staring at the ceiling, you can still feel the blood dripping from your hands, hear the piercing of the knife. You heart rate picks up. What would it be like to do that again? Would you feel the same rush of adrenaline? Would it feel better?

Dave comes out, tossing his cell on the nightstand and sliding under the covers. His hand covers yours.

“What about…?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You don’t ask. He probably knows people. His fingers drift over your cheeks and jaw. They skim lower, following the same path down your neck as your arteries. They feel cool against your skin, drawing patterns where you anticipate bruises tomorrow.

“Did I hurt you?”

He’s almost back to the Dave you know, soft and kind, but you still catch the edges of his dark side. He’s more of a blend now. You think you might be getting the real, true Dave now.

“No,” you shake your head. There was pain. You’ll be sore tomorrow, sport a few scrapes and bruises, but it doesn’t feel like he hurt you.

Dave kisses your forehead, fingers tracing your collarbone now. A question forms in your head, gnawing at the corners of your brain.

“Dave?”

“Hmmm?” He sees distracted, entranced as he follows his hand over your skin, skimming the tops of your breasts. Your nipples tighten making you curl your toes with a familiar tug of desire. How are you ready to go again after that?

“What if I liked it?”

His eyebrow quirks. “The sex?” he pinches your hardened nipple making you gasp.

“All of it?”

His palm stops. The pitch of his voice deepens. “All of it?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“Use your words, Doll.” He cups your breath, teasing your nipple more. His breath is hot in your ear. “Tell me what you like.”

“I-” Can you really say this out loud? Will it blacken your soul? Or is it already charred and damned.

“Tell me.” He smacks your chest like a parent might smack their child’s hand away from an electrical outlet.

Your pussy clenches as you squeeze your legs together. He smacks your other breast in the same manner. You gasp, practically yelling out your answer. “Killing him.”

The air stands still. For a second, you expect a look of disgust to cross Dave’s face. Instead, a smirk grows. “You liked that?”

You nod, not able to say anything else. Dave climbs on top of you, kicking away the covers. He pushes his hand up your sternum, kneading your breast before running it back down. He repeats the motion, rotating between the two. Moans grow in your chest. He bites your earlobe.

“Did you like the way the knife slid into him?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dave growls in your ear.

“Yes, Daddy,” you repeat between moans. Your sopping hole drips onto the sheets below you. Dave’s motions steadily grow in intensity.

“Did my doll like the way her body felt alive? Like you absorbed that bastard's energy.”

Tears drop from your eyes. You want him again. You need him again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Does my doll want to do it again?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You practically scream. You should be ashamed of the answer. You should be ashamed that there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in your being.

“Fuck,” Dave says, shoving your legs apart. He pushes his cock inside you again. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure you will.”

Dave moves inside you. It’s not as violent, not as torturous as earlier, but it’s just as satisfying. The promise of more ignites a fire inside of you.

Dave takes you to the brink, pushing you until you pass out from exhaustion, spent, used, and sated.

“I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might.”

When you wake up the next morning, the body is gone. The lamp you broke is replaced and a new area rug is delicately placed in your apartment. Not a speck or splatter of blood can be found anywhere. Dave stands in the kitchen gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He cooks eggs on the stovetop and a steaming cup of coffee sits on the counter.

You wrap your arms around him. He hums. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, heart beating against your palm. “I like the rug.”

“Me too.”

“Kryptonite”

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dark!dave york #dark!fic #pedro pascal #the equalizer 2

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carmillas-vampiric-rage · 1 year ago

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Random Bi-Han Headcanons MK1

this man has consumed my thoughts omfg i tried to fight it why am i always shocked when this happens

anyway, here's like a random selection of headcanons i have about this little bitch

warnings: none. my tomfoolery. bi-han being a gay loser.

bi-han x black biracial reader (gn)

he nearly cried when kung lao sliced him with that round blade (he did). boy was legit so upset and surprised he managed to get that blow in despite him being GRANDMASTER and kung lao being INCOMPETENT. picture that scrunch face you make when you trying not to cry and you keep blinking and your eyes burning- that's what he did (canon event)

he is the definition of Mean and Angry Bisexual™. boy is what i like to call a homophobic homosexual. he notices a hot dude or nonbinary person and immediately looks away and says via voice over "no. that is gay."

saw this on another random bi-han headcanon post and i absolutely agree: bi-han loves women of color. i think he primarily dates woc too hehe. let's say hypothetically he hates white people because of tomas. i didn't say that you did. we love tomas in this house btw. and like that same headcanon post; he has a preference for black and black biracial folks. i do not take criticism hehe. this is canon and a fact (he's dating me after all)

absolutely loves when you wear your hair naturally, in any style, he loves when you embrace your culture and family history. he'd never mention or talk about your hair to you, as it seems rude and disrespectful to him, but he thinks it. and he also thinks whenever you wear your hair in a full afro, he's never seen anyone so beautiful. each and every time it astounds him that he's still awestruck.

big cuddler. idc what anyone says, he loves to cuddle. he's literally the most clingy lil guy. after finally finding his person and being able to be vulnerable for the first time since his mother died, he just melts, and becomes inseparable from you. after a hard day, or when he's enraged (a rare occurrence), nothing calms his mind down or relaxes his tense muscles like wrapping an arm around you and pulling you flush to him, your back to him as you sleep soundly. he listens to your soft breathing (or snoring lets be real) and tries to calm himself from the day's frustrations. if you awaken from his entrance, and unsurprising cuddles, you'll touch his hand and squeeze, snuggling closer to him -as if he's not already melted into your skin- and smile as he kisses your jawline and the back of your neck. most of the time, you'll turn over to him, his arm not removing from your waist, and grab his face, kissing his face and lips. the two of you will remain as close, foreheads resting against the other, sometimes talking, sometimes enjoying the sweet silence until you both fall asleep.

like so many others have stated; he was way closer with his mother than his father. when he was a child, being around her was the only time he could actually put his guard down, and be vulnerable. she would protect him. spending time with his mother, were some of the few times he would laugh or smile, as she told him funny stories from her childhood, or tickle him to get a confession out of him, if he'd been the one to steal the last cookie. she was his everything. his closest person. his best friend besides his brothers. and her death broke him. he closed off even more than he already did, vowing never to let anyone besides his mother see his unguarded side. but if he was being honest -and not constantly pushing the thought from his mind- he broke down the night she died, sobbing uncontrollably alone in his room as he clung to the soft baby blue sweater she always wore.

I don't care what anyone says, I don't care what we see in the game or if official heights come out... bi-han is s h o r t. my headcanon is 5'9. that may seem short for him but he just radiates 5'9 energy i do not take criticism. my man is stout so it only makes sense that he a short king.

bi-han used to be inseparable from his brothers when they were kids, their father taking in tomas at such a young age, bi-han always remembers him being there. there isn't a single memory from his childhood that both his brothers aren't in. he'd never tell either kuai liang or tomas, but he cherishes those memories of when they were kids, when they'd play outside every single day, look for creepy and interesting bugs, practice combat, aka, someone ended up with a black eye and sobbing. whenever those memories pop into his head, his permanent frown softens a bit, though he tries not to let anything show on his face. part of him does wish he could be close to them like they were as kids, but he's too stubborn and full of himself to actually try and repair the relationship he's mostly stilted over the years.

~~~~~~~

just a few super random headcanons of my babygirl. may come back to some of these or write another part if i think of more. feel free to add onto these i crave bi-han headcanons!!!!!!!

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dearweirdme · 9 months ago

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Not relevant to tkk, more about fandom I would say.

I am in my late 30s, married with two toddlers, super busy and successful in my very special field. I am also ARMY, heavily Tae based and following tkk love (?) story. The thing is, both of these sides of me have to remain hidden. I would never dare to mention in stan twitter my age or the fact that I have children cause the first slightly deranged person would call me all sorts of nasty things based on that. "Go feed your children grandma" or something like that lol. And I would never dare to even try and explain to my husband the delulu state im in with tae and taekook. Poor man would think I lost it. He already looks pressed when he hears me and the girls sing Korean and choose our biases lol.

I wonder if other people/women in the fandom have similar thoughts.

Hi anon!

I'm very certain that you are not alone in this. The agism is real! Speaking for myself (41.. yes be shocked everyone who hadn't clicked that yet 😂) I've had the craziest shit thrown at me just because of my age and for having a kid. For some reason there's people who think you stop enjoying music and everything that comes with it after you've turned 25 or something. Sure, life gets buzy.. but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to enjoy BTS or whatever music or entertainment you prefer.

But I totally get it. While my friends and family know I like BTS's music (I play it a lot, so it's hard to miss) no-one knows about me being a Tkkr, no-one knows about Tae being my bias, and no-one knows about my blog. It's not on purpose, it's just that nobody around me is actually also a BTS fan.. so the topic never really comes up (and I doubt I would ever let anyone in my real life know about my blog to be honest). It's a bit of selfpreservation for me. I just don't like the feeling of being mocked for something I love.

There are many 'older' fans around though and I've been lucky to find some Army/Taekook friends on here. It's so good to be able to scream in someone's dm's about how good Jk and/or Tae looks. And I've really loved sharing last year with so many of my anon's and followers. I think being a bit older (and really... 41 isn't old by any standard) gives us a bit of life experience that makes us understand some things better.

#taekook #fandom shenanigans

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jessjad · 3 months ago

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Unexpected

Chapter 15 - Epiloge

Summary: After a Halloweenparty Y/N actually didn't want to got to, her life seems to be turned around. The reason is a very stubborn Supe that seems to have her in his visier. Is it just a coincidance or more?

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 881

Warnings: none really, again some medical freedom

A/N: Here we are. The last chapter. Do we still remember the little secret Y/N had? Well, here comes the answer to that. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

5 Months later...

"You really don't need to come with me." Y/N said for the third time while she was putting on her coat.

She turned around to look back into her living space just to see Ben already standing there, waiting for her. He was wearing some black jeans, a dark green Henley, his most favorite boots and a very stubborn and determinate look on his face.

"I'm coming with." was all he said, his arms crossed infront of his chest.

One thing Y/N had learned in the last months was that the supe who didn't left her side anymore was a lot more work than she had thought. It was tough for him to get used to the new world he had woken up in. The technology, the new worldview of men and women. Y/N knew that he had felt lost.

After everything that has happened with Homelander on school side, mankind screamed for a change and the overthrow of Vought. Most people didn't want to be around supes anymore and they questioned if it was still necessary to have superhuman people on the loose. The discussion did not end, especially with recurring footage that the world should never have seen. Bloody, horrific splatter that showed how much the supes just did not care.

Everything Ben had lived for, worked for, was now the worst thing of all and he did not know what to do with it. The once most loved man had lost his worth and he just couldn't handle it. This drove even her to despair sometimes.

"Okay, okay." Y/N gave in.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting in Doctor Field's consulting room, waiting. Doctor Field was a specialist in DNA research and nuclear medicine. He was recommended to Y/N after she explained her new situation to her previous doctor. While Y/N sat quietly in one of the chairs, Ben paced around the room.

"Ben, can you please sit down?"

"Where the fuck is this mountebank?" Ben said, ignoring her question. "Back in my day they never left me fucking waiting."

He sounded annoyed, but Y/N heared that he was a little on edge too. And she could not blame him. She hadn't felt any different when she first told Ben about her appointment with Doctor Field. Of course he immediately wanted to know why. But she found it difficult to find the right words. By now, Y/N knew that he had an abandonment problem and it was difficult for her to know how he would react to this news.

So she explained to him that they had Alzheimer's in the family. After her grandma showed the first signs, Y/N's mum had herself tested, but nothing was found in her case. So Y/N had dared to take the test too, but her test came back positive. She had inherited the ApoE4 gene twice. Which meant she would most likely get sick. Ben then disappeared for three days.

"Sorry I kept you waiting." the door opened all of a sudden and startled both of them. "But now I'm here. So let's not waste any more time."

The doctor sat down behind his desk and opend up Y/N's file. Now Ben also sat down next to his woman. Eventhough he looked normal he couldn't deny that he was a little worried now. But only minimally.

"So? What are my results?" Y/N asked nervously, but doctor Field did not answer right away.

"To be honest, I've never seen anything like this before." Well, that did not really help. "Your original test results were several years ago now. So we repeated the tests using today's standards. Normally the results should not have changed much. But still... it's different in this case."

Y/N and Ben saw how his eyes drifted from one to the other.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben wanted to know.

Ben had asked Y/N almost the same question after he came back three days later. The argument that had ensued afterward because he had simply left Y/N alone and then acted as if it had never happened had ended in wild, hot sex and his word that he just had to get out, getting high and brake a few things. And Y/N believed him.

"The ApoE4 gene has... changed. There is a certain blueprint for every gene, but for you it looks different now. It has changed. The radioactive radiation you've been exposed to for so long seems to be affecting the gene."

"How?" Y/N asked surprised.

Did that mean, that there was still hope? With one quick look to Ben, she saw that he seemed to think the same thing.

"To fully determine that we need to make further tests." But now doctor Field was looking at Ben, not Y/N.

"No fucking way." Ben stared back.

"To fully understand what has happened here, we need to find out how the radioactive radiation affects you. You're a supe."

"Fuck off!" he shouted. "I'm not gonna let you do some tests on me like I'm a fucking lab rat."

"Ben..." Y/N tried to calm him down, but she knew it was uselss.

"No fucking way!"

And as the discussion continued, Y/N had to grin. No matter how this turned out, she wouldn't have it any other way.

A/N: This is it. I really liked these two. 🥹 Aaaand I left the ending open on purpose. Maybe I'll come back to them. 😊

Thanks to everyone who gave this story a try, reblogged or commented on it. It really meant a lot to me! 💜 And maybe we'll see eachother on my next story. 🤗

@lyarr24 @k-slla @leigh70 @deadlydivergentgirl @deans-spinster-witch

@chriszgirl92 @bitchykittenconnoisseur

#unexpected #soldier boy #the boys amazon #jensen ackles #spn #ben x reader #soldier boy x reader

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hermitw · 5 months ago

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i want to hear more about your theory surrounding yuki, kenjaku, and todo if you don’t mind 😭

Haha omg I'll have to remember. It's mostly vibes but I'm good at making connections sooooo

The most solid evidence and vibes first: Todo had those false memories with Yuuji, just like Choso did. Todo also gets those with his celebrity crush but he doesn't try to force a relationship with her, he still has more of a sense of boundaries and reality there.

They are also pretty rough on even those closest to them, kenjaku manipulating his sons and allies into killing each other obv but Todo got his scar from Yuki's intense training, and Todo beats his classmates half to death for not sharing his taste in women (I do feel that it's not fair to make a lot of connections between her and todo since she did raise him to adopt her worse personality traits, like being weirdly intense about that question). But even before they met Todo was beating up older kids, and Yuuji was also beating up the school bullies so it seems to run in the fam.

Kenjaku and his relatives (known and alleged) also share the same sort of aloof insanity, not worried about the societal norms and going after whatever they want without worrying what anyone thinks. They're also very blunt and honest, whether it's about their back getting musty or wanting to be called brother, they don't have much of a filter. Choso and Yuki both showed up in Shibuya like, "what's up I'm not actually on your side." which is very much the way that Todo showed up at the exchange event.

I think its sus that Todo and Yuki just happened to meet each other and there was no context given about his family. Like they just let a young child disappear with some strange woman on a motor bike.

Kenjaku, Yuki and Todo all have this strong personality of doing whatever they want to, without hesitation in the face of authority. Yuki using her special grade salary to travel overseas and reject missions, Todo kicking the door (or was it the wall? I forget) down to leave the principal's meeting. Kenjaku...I don't even have to give an example there.

Also that frame when yuki and kenjaku fight (I'll attach it below) screams parent/child interaction to me.

Since then (today actually) I decided that Coach Takagi is Todo's other dad, he's probably trans and the theories of Rock Lee and Guy Sensei from Naruto are enough evidence to convince me tbh (also tenten I love her but this isn't about that). Coach Takagi is a chaotic rulebreaker, he's more problematic than the students, and I think Kenjaku would see that man and think he looks like fun. I think that Todo inherited some traits from him as well.

Sooooo we know that Kenjaku's motive for everything is that he's just playing a game, looking for a good time, something to be interesting or funny. We see this in the manga but to avoid spoilers, just look at the way he was always playing with the curses - soccer with Jogo's head, Life (as he was manipulating his sons into taking each other's lives ugh), mahjong etc. And they're always chilling in Dagon's domain at the beach, or the playground, it's very recreational (I used to think it was just games to psychoanalyze and vet his curse allies tbh).

All this to say that I 100% believe that he slept around. We know he was pregnant and maybe that's part of the reason why Yuuji is his favorite son.

Todo and Yuki are older than Yuuji - from before Kenjaku was in Kaori's body, so it works with the timeline.

I think that he would have not kept watch for any other potential offspring, but part of him hopes that more and stronger sorcerers or curse users will show up to make things more interesting. Actually, they could have grown to be the people he used like Junpei and Yuuji (that speech he gave at the end of the Shibuya incident). Edit: I think kenjaku was looking for descendents of the old three major clans, like Yuuta (who is also from Sendai) and likely hit Rika with his car.

Hope this made any sort of sense - I am currently rereading the manga again so if I come across more evidence I'll be sure to gather and reblog w that eventually!

#The playlist of what I think kenjaku listens to is so funny too I love it #There were similarities in the way they all dress but that feels like a reach so I left it out here #Also kaori and Yuki's techniques being so similar is WEIRD but I can't find a way to make it make sense with the timeline so #Anon #Ask box #Answered #Jjk theory #jujutsu kaisen #jjk manga #jjk #jjk theory #Yuki tsukumo #Kenjaku #Todo aoi #jjk headcanons

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thedarkone121 · 6 months ago

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Hello! Have a ramble card, you may ramble about whatever you like :3

Oh, Dust. Dust, my good fellow and now-fellow mutual, I don’t even know where to begin with this power you have given me… I’m ill-prepared for such a responsibility! But, I guess I can start my rambling off with some facts about Anne-Marie.

Anne-Marie is mixed-race, her biological mother originated from the Caribbean Islands but she fled to England during the wars for independence and to get away from her own family situation. Anne-Marie’s biological father was a wealthy Englishman, one who went after immigrant women. He’s a slimeball, plain and simple.

Anne-Marie has no desire to know her biological father. Jekyll is her dad and that’s end of it. Her mother, Isabella, is still alive but Anne-Marie doesn’t know nor does she care. Anne-Marie wants nothing to do with Isabella and would rather leave her in the past. They did not have a good relationship.

Anne-Marie did have a group of friends while she was at the Orphanage. She was the youngest so the older kids did their best to look after her. They were the ones who gave her the name Anne because of her tendency to question things by saying “And?”.

I meant to save this for a sketch on the first day of Pride Month but I guess I’ll say it here; Anne-Marie is asexual — like most of my OCs, to be honest 🤣 she falls more on the sex-repulsed side of things, which confused the heck out of Hyde. Speaking of Hyde, Jekyll and him were both very confused when Anne-Marie came out but they were still supportive in their own ways. They’re trying, okay? 🤣 They did have a huge sigh of relief when they realized that Anne-Marie wasn’t interested in fooling around with anybody when she reached her teenage/adult years.

Do not mention the words Anne-Marie and marriage in the same sentence around Jekyll. Jekyll does not want to think about marrying her off. He wants her to be the sole inheritor of everything he owns. He WILL delay marriage talks for as long as he can.

(In a future scenario where everything is happy, an older Anne-Marie does end up being in a nice queerplantonic marriage with a Jonathan Harker-inspired OC who is AroAce. Lanyon and Everly helped set it up.)

Everly is Anne-Marie’s piano teacher, something that happened not long after Robert first met the girl. The two got along together swimmingly and Anne-Marie would often play Everly’s sonnets as a form of lessons. Everly is probably the only Lanyon Anne-Marie genuinely likes. Everly sees her as the daughter she wishes she could have.

It’s such a shame that Anne-Marie doesn’t like Robert because those two would’ve gotten along swimmingly on dissing the upper-class while they were at parties. While Anne-Marie, like Jekyll, was taught upper-class etiquette but she didn’t thrive off it like her father. She’s actually pretty crabby whenever she had to deal with snobs. The only reason she is able to get away with acting as the perfect proper daughter is because Jekyll lets her loose it in either an isolated room or during the carriage ride on the way home.

She has a collection of scary stuffed toys in her room. Stuff like bears with large teeth and creepy button eyes. It freaks Lanyon and some of the Lodgers out. Jekyll has gotten used to them. Hyde is still weird out by them.

Anne-Marie’s tends to favor spicy food. Her favorite is that Chicken Paprika their family lawyer got from a fellow lawyer friend. Jekyll and Hyde can NOT handle spicy food but they still try to eat it with her. Hyde keeps going despite how much pain he’s in.

I guess it’s time to mention some stuff I have in regards to Jekyll being a dad. I can’t imagine him having any biological children. I can’t imagine this man procreating. In any form of media, might I add. It is easier to see him pick up a child from somewhere and him becoming a dad that way.

No matter how much his reputation means to him, I think Jekyll is willing to go to war if somebody ever sighted Anne-Marie the wrong way. If Anne-Marie tells her side of the story of an incident she’s involved with, he WILL believe her. Frankenstein learned that the hard way.

Him reading her bedtime stories are the only times Jekyll is able to sleep. Anne-Marie is a koala bear when she’s tired and Jekyll is never able to escape when she latches on. Welcome to the life of a dad, Jekyll.

Speaking of which, I almost forgotten to mention that I don’t think Jekyll ever planned to have kids. He likes children and sometimes don’t mind their company, but he never saw himself as a dad. Him adopting Anne-Marie was a decision that still surprises him to this day.

One last thing to close off the whole ramble, Anne-Marie is able to hold her stare for a long time. It’s something she developed when she was on the streets. She uses it as a form of intimidation, as she found out that people can unnerved by holding a long form of eye contact with them. She’s still well-known for this trick, even when she lost her sight. So if she is staring in a general direction, the Lodger who is on the receiving end of it is still freaked out.

And that’s end of the ramble! Not sure if this counts since I tend to be organized when I’m writing but thank you Dust Mint for letting me get some of ideas out!

#darky talks #the glass scientists #tgs #oc #tgs oc #oc: anne-marie jekyll #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #tgs lanyon #tgs everly #darky rambles

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carrotsnake · 6 months ago

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dungeon meshi fandom rant

i usually stay away from fictional autism headcanons or indulging in them wholesale because i'm more on the 'characters are constructs' side of things. some may exhibit traits we relate to but placing real-world diagnostic labels on walking metaphors makes things too nebulous. however laios touden is an exception to me since autism allegories (despite no authorial intent) are pretty hard-wired into both his arc and dungeon meshi's core themes about being an outsider. so for once the fandom autism memes feel genuine to me lol. it doesn't feel as fanon-heavy or platitudinous, actually it's pretty uplifting. i appreciate the positivity.

that being said the most dogshit dunmesh take i've seen lately is the assertion that laios and falin show us autistic men are villified for things autistic women are accepted for. the fuck are you people smoking? some rebranded MRA-pilled bullshit? log off tumblr and go outside, then point and show me where this is the truth. i don't know if you guys are all living in a feminist utopia that i'm not privy too, but if so send me the address because things couldn't be less like that everywhere i've ever been.

countless times i've been told 'oh you're exactly like a female copy of [socially anxious male friend/co-worker/family member who shares my personality] and then i gotta watch them get special treatment as i get left behind and scolded for not being normal enough. him being blunt is rebellious & brutally honest, me being blunt is just being a b*tch with no filter. how many times do you see autistic women reaching high positions of power and being revered as a misunderstood genius.

how about everyone reminding us to 'be nice' to the supposedly harmless awkward guy who keeps making sexual comments & invading our boundaries because he can't help it apparently. but strangely enough, i have gone my whole life without creeping on others. only to be called creepy and off-putting by these same social equality preachers for not applying makeup or styling my hair right. autistic women are more likely to be sexually harrassed and/or abused than neurotypical women and no one gaf (let's b real they don't care when it happens to neurotypical women either if the man has a good enough sob story.) shit like walking strangely, having a speech impediment and talking too much about esoteric topics was enough to be outcasted for us. once more, with feeling: what are you people smoking?

and critically, falin is pretty. she's conventionally pure, self-sacrificial, beautiful with hollywood curves, soft-spoken, and never questions anyone nor asserts herself over others when her needs aren't being met. her dislikes in the adventurer's bible are 'nothing in particular', she never spoke out against her village's bullying even when she had it worse than laios, quickly forgives her parents for exiling her, and never shows any opinion on marcille's use of dark magic. she's a paragon of femininity. anything less than that, and she would probably invoke similar if not more disgust from her peers than laios through the audacity of not conforming to gender expectations. but she likes holding bugs or whatever so...whoa! she's so feral and subversive amiright guys. but crucially she looks cute while doing it so we're not too uncomfortable to stan.

i love laios so much, he's in my newest blorbo collection for sure but calling the female characters who don't like him judgemental is not a good look. we as the readers who have been inside the main chara's head know he's a good guy - but in the context of dungeon meshi's world, where sexism is as prevalent as stranger danger, it's fair for them to assume bad intent and keep their distance. they're looking out for their own safety and you're mad about that because, what, it makes your 2D nigel sad? cry about it.

so quit using anime characters as fodder for your thinly-veiled 'everyday men milk themselves' preaches. the touden siblings are not a good example of this. if you unironically agree with that take: it's time to go talk to some real women broski.

#EVERYDAY MEN MILK THEMSELVES !!! laios wishes smh #i criticise falin's treatment because i think she has potential & deserves more autonomy beyond her chimera form #the hype cannot convince me she's much more than a lucy westerna archetype :( but that's a whole essay for another day #so it's unfair to use her as 'proof' the woman is treated better when she upholds high standards of what we should be to deserve acceptance #and from that meta lens the cast's love becomes conditional; it hinges on her continued passivity #carrot rambles

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rappaccini · 8 months ago

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been thinking on how peter's had a lot of love interests over the years, but only six of them most consistently stick around and impact his character. and how the big six model works for other spider-love stories too because it's a good round number that allows for love interest variety and a strong romantic character arc without overcrowding.

so peter's big six are as follows:

liz allan: the one-sided superficial first crush on a rich girl with more social capital that ultimately goes nowhere

betty brant: the first girlfriend who is working-class with whom he eventually returns to being just friends, who ends up with his friend

gwen stacy: the first love, who's his intellectual equal in the classroom and of a steady upper-middle-class (law-enforcement) background he aspires to, who dislikes his alter ego, who he can't be honest to, who dies

mj watson: the true love, who's his equal socially, who isn't the steadiest career-wise and had a hard upbringing, who knows and accepts his alter ego, who he ends up with

felicia hardy: the problematic situationship with a vigilante who isn't a good influence on him, who only cares about the alter ego

cindy moon*: the forced spidermarriage with another spider-person the universe insists he's the 'soulmate' of

[*YES, cindy hasn't been shipped with peter since the mess that was her introduction and it'll hopefully stay that way. but she makes the cut because she's a very memorable character with a very distinct dynamic with peter that's being replicated already-- particularly with miles and gwen: "look, male and female spider-people! let's force them to kiss and call them soulmates!"]

if you line them up, there's a narrative that starts to emerge.

they tend to appear in pairs with a class juxtaposition. in high school, peter is strongly driven by a desire for status and money, and his family's financial situation is precarious: he's choosing between rich (liz) or poor (betty). by going to college, he's settled on being middle-class, so while he's there he has to decide between upper-middle-class stability (gwen) or lower-middle-class authenticity and freedom (mj).

[to note: people didn't used to hate love triangles. that's why they're prominent here. and marvel used to let peter grow up, so he actually can have his love interests spread out.]

and once he's postgrad and his financial situation is kind of set, he's tempted by being a hero. felicia and cindy are contrasted with mj, not each other: does he want to use his powers selfishly and be more of an anti-hero (felicia)? does he want to lean into the mystical spiderverse that thinks he's the chosen one (cindy)?

(we know he's going to circle back to mj. aka, he's going to ultimately choose his humanity instead of his spider-powers.)

demographically, they're all white women and one asian woman (... who he has a hypersexual fling with that's immediately demonized, rejected and treated like it was never serious😬). so uh. peter's that kind of guy.

he prefers civilian girlfriends. makes sense given that he has dead gf trauma he doesn't want to repeat that might make watching her get into a fight be a bit too much. he wants his girlfriend away from the fight, somewhere safe, and he views his vigilantism as something he needs to do alone. [also, marvel used to do civilian love interests.]

the progression seems tied to peter’s age: two high school love interests, two college love interests, two postgrad post-divorce get-my-groove-back-fling love interests.

his overall romantic arc seems to be about peter finding someone who can love both sides of him and ground him, and intersects with the class issues his character constantly contends with. he's tempted by wealth and status, and then by stability and approval, or by the special perks of being a superhero, but ultimately he's a family man who wants something grounded and sincere with someone who has her own interests to pursue, the same way he does. ending up with mj goes hand-in-hand with peter figuring out his principles and embracing that he's an underdog.

at any rate, these characters are far from the only girls peter's had tension, relationships or hookups with, but these are the ones who have the most memorable personalities and the most distinct dynamics with him that have lasting impact on his stories.

tied to their staying power, the first five are also the ones who are adapted the most: if you're writing a peter-spider-man story, you're probably choosing his love interest(s) from this list. and the list tends to be condensed down even more from there (how many times have you seen peter's love interests advertised as betty-gwen-mj-felicia, or gwen-mj-felicia, or gwen-and-mj?) with each woman standing out and contrasting well against each other.

and the six— not the specific love interests, but their attributes and story functions— should be used more for other spider-people. if nothing else because it means each character can have a convenient shortlist of love interests to reference and return to, instead of a constantly-growing stack of quick relationships that never get to deepen or evolve with characters who become easy to forget.

miles

i mentioned this here, but miles's supporting cast is at its strongest when it creates original characters for him to interact with, fills them with elements of classic spider-man characters and their stories, and remixes those stories in a unique way.

so his love interests, at their best, are original characters whose qualities combine and reimagine the big six's.

for example:

katie bishop: liz allan (superficial interest in the first girl he crushes on in canon) x betty brant (first romance).

lana baumgartner: cindy moon (fellow superhero) x mj watson (dysfunctional family background; from his world)

kamala khan: betty brant (remaining friends) x liz allan (unreciprocated crush) x cindy moon (fellow superhero).

gwen stacy (65): gwen stacy (...) x cindy moon (forced spidermarriage) x liz allan (superficial attraction based on a need to gain status through a relationship with her)

barbara rodriguez: gwen stacy (classmate who's naive to his alter ego) x betty brant (goes on to date his friend).

tiana toomes: felicia hardy (initially problematic vigilante) x mj watson (family complications; the true love who balances him out and completes him).

... though there are six listed, honestly i think miles' love interest roster isn't complete yet, and there are one or two more slots left to fill. i'll circle back to that.

first, some notes of interest:

miles inverts the 2:1 civilian to superhuman ratio of peter's love interests. marvel seems to be moving away from the civilian love interest in general... and miles seems to want a partner who can come with him on adventures. he's a more social hero, and more forward-thinking. he's cool with his girlfriend getting in danger (because he hasn't been traumatized by that yet), and he doesn't like superheroing alone.

he's still in high school, yet has had a lot of love interests, which speaks to how characters age a lot slower than they used to these days... and how miles isn't as much of a loser as peter was at his age. he's less sexist and more social, and therefore he's more successful at getting girlfriends than peter was at his age.

instead of sorting the love interests based on when he met them, sort them based on why he's drawn to them: katie and barbara are his classmates. gwen and kamala are prominent heroes in their own right who he keeps getting pr-relationshipped with. lana and tiana are vigilantes from troubled backgrounds who he can influence for the better. two love interests reflect his civilian side, two reflect the hero he wants to be, two bring out both by helping miles remember why he's a hero in the first place-- because of the person he is under the mask-- and influencing him to stay true to that person.

given how editorial pr-shipping miles with gwen and kamala gives him this tendency to uh. step outside of his committed relationships to chase after the idea of dating the brand-friendly superheroes who give him more clout... miles has a recurring issue with objectifying women and treating them like accessories when he's having a crisis of confidence that he needs to work out.

specifically an issue as it pertains to gwen: all his worst instincts are externalized in how he treats gwen. he keeps ignoring when she tells him to stop flirting with him or that she'd rather be friends, has an extremely superficial interest in her mostly tied to using her as a stepping stone to success, and if they get together, he'd be stopping her from coming out. which means he's either so superficially attracted to her that he doesn't even realize she's queer... or he does know and is willingly keeping her from being her authentic self so he can have her as a trophy gf. either way it's a Bad look and he'll never conquer those flaws unless he fully moves on from her.

he's usually drawn to alternative/punkish, artsy, slightly older girls with chips on their shoulders who are more cynical than he is. he wants to fix them, and he's looking for someone to balance his more optimistic tendencies out.

demographically, miles is into white girls at the start of his arc (or when he's being written poorly), and starts branching out to date poc girls once he gains confidence and has a better understanding of himself. narratively this tracks with his overall arc about breaking away from his need to be like peter and committing to representing and protecting his community over getting white people to like him-- and the best realization of his romance arc that'll support his overall arc would be him ending up with a black girl, which we are hopefully moving towards with tiana.

he hasn't had a fridged/tragic love interest, intellectual equal, or been in a toxic dynamic yet in the comics (i mean. that's basically gwiles but no one will admit it. the confirmed toxic dynamic he's had thus far is in the games with phin mason)... raneem rashad, anyone?

anyway at this point, miles is still in high school and has had plenty of love interests. and he's a young enough character that we're just gonna have to see who lasts as more contenders are introduced.

if i had to guess,

kamala will stick around, but won't consistently be his love interest, and even when she is they won't end up together. she and miles are the two biggest New Generation Legacy Heroes and the pr shipping writes itself. but because she's too big a character in her own right and far from his corner of the marvel universe half the time, she might not be a constant adaptation. she'd either be watered down, or it would pull too much focus to explain her presence unless it's specifically a team-up or group story. and even if she does show up, we know it's a given they won't end up together. it's a solid stepping-stone romance.

gwen should have faded into history as a regrettable one-time thing. but because of spiderverse synergy that won't ever happen and the best we can hope for is a temporary relationship. because she's also got too much going on, has her own world and has Gwen Stacy Baggage attached, she’s too difficult to fit into his stories without completely compromising her character to force her into the girlfriend role. not that marvel has a problem doing that. and like kamala, being his love interest holds her back from being her own protagonist with her own stories. she should hopefully not be a constant adaptation... but the spiderverse movies are going to keep causing versions of them to at least flirt with the idea of a relationship. the horse is out of the barn re: stopping this ship from happening again, but hopefully it'll be reframed as an optional and always-temporary situation that isn't good for either of them. which can work; bad relationships can be good character development if you own that they're bad and let them end. if.

tiana (hopefully!) will stick around and make it to the endgame. she's That Great. she's an original character who won't contradict preexisting variants (unlike gwen or katie). she's too unique to be confused for another character. she's got a memorable design, cool powers, fun personality and great backstory that enhances the overall spider-man canon by making the vulture a more developed villain. and she isn't popular enough to steal his spotlight (kamala) or have better things to do elsewhere (kamala, gwen). not to mention that their relationship is the best miles has ever had. this is the girl he should end up with.

barbara might survive... or we'll just get a series of temporary civilian visions academy gfs in her image (like insomniac's hailey cooper). she's easy to adapt... but also easy to forget. and compared to the competition, we all know he's not gonna end up with her.

lana might last, but if she's readapted, she'll probably change a lot. she could step into katie's role as the initial white visions gf (... maybe the only visions gf; sorry barbara), or kamala's in adaptations where ms marvel being in miles's supporting cast would be too distracting but they still want that superhero-flirtation-to-friendship story. she could even take gwen's role as the white superhero he wants to fix and has a problematic infatuation with. it's a tossup, but lana has the range to participate in a lot of stories, and a compelling powerset and backstory that are worth exploring. another solid stepping-stone girlfriend.

katie's probably going to fade away. she has too little impact and is too easy to confuse with kate bishop, hawkeye, to be easily adaptable. no big loss.

... and we're probably due one more major love interest category to take the space katie's going to leave: a tragically villainous tech-powered girl of color, like phin mason or raneem rashad. (... or margo kess, minus the tragic villainy)

it's too early for miles's love interests to scale down from big six to a big four, three or two. the general progression seems to be white girl -> non-black poc girl -> black girl, and civilian gf -> hero gf -> troubled vigilante who becomes a superhero after falling for him. we'll just have to see who it ends up being.

(personally i'm rooting for kamala / lana / tiana to take the big three. realistically it'll be kamala / gwen / hopefully tiana.)

hopefully canon starts to standardize his love interests soon. because if he keeps getting new ones, all of them become easier to forget, and the worst relationship with the best exposure, gwiles, will rise to the top simply because she's the one that made it to the movies, which would be terrible for them both.

as for gwen...

even more complicated.

her character's even newer than miles's, and her romantic history is largely defined by having other people (men. and em jay.) push their desires on her, rather than gwen exploring her own. she's had a lot of false starts, and a lot of obviously queer tension with other women that marvel refuses to act on, but canonically she's barely dated at all and isn't motivated by romance.

gwen also sits between peter and miles in terms of love interest originality: it makes sense for gwen to initially interact with alternate versions of peter's supporting cast, because that's gwen's supporting cast too... but like miles, she should still have unique dynamics with those characters because she's not peter. and since she's gwen-65, she should eventually branch out to relationships with characters on earth-65 that 616-gwen never would have met or gotten close to.

so no, gwen should not end up with earth-65's em jay ~because every spider has their mj~. that idea implies that mj is drawn to peter's spider-powers instead of peter as a person, and that she'd have fallen for anyone who had them. it invalidates the uniqueness of peter and mj's romance by turning mj into a spider-groupie, and of gwen-65 herself (and any spider-person you're trying to shove an mj at to check a box). gwen deserves a love story that's totally new and all hers. no peter, no miles, no alternate version of a peter/miles love interest. give her someone new.

anyway so far i think we can make a case for maybe three or four of hers.

peter parker*: liz allan x gwen stacy. except in this case, he's the one with the superficial one-sided crush on her and he's the one who ends up dead.

miles morales (1610)*: cindy moon, the forced divine spidermarriage. with a bit of liz allan, for the superficiality of it all. (... and felicia, for the toxicity no one will talk about)

harry osborn: primarily betty brant (the high school sweetheart she never got to have who ultimately stays friends with her), with elements of felicia (a former vigilante) and mj (understands and accepts the alter ego)

em jay watson: yes she's an mj, but honestly? she's the gwen stacy (the first love out of high school in the same career path who hates gwen's hero alter ego) with elements of felicia hardy (she's the toxic relationship) and betty brant (going on to date one of gwen's friends)

[*gwen doesn't reciprocate their feelings, but at this point peter and miles' links to gwen are so inescapable it's a given that romantic tension will define their dynamics for the forseeable future. anytime spider-gwen is adapted, she's gonna have to deal with this shit from at least one of them. mentally i'm lumping them together because these fuckers are The Same.]

she has a few major slots left to fill... but gwen's situation isn't quite like miles and peter's. aside from having a different personality and story, she's queer and female, so her romantic arc's gonna differ.

gwen can't be in a relationship with someone on 65 who doesn't know her secret identity because it's already public there (unless there's a status quo reset that gives gwen her privacy back, she dates someone on another world, or we retcon her a high school boyfriend from her early spider-woman days). which makes her unique from peter and miles.

she hasn't seriously dated anyone who's only interested in her famous alter ego yet either. which, given ghost-spider's celebrity status on earth-65, should be an eventuality... johnny-65 or felicia-65, anyone?

gwen-65 was never a science-oriented person, doesn't share peter and miles' humanities-or-stem postgrad conflict, and already committed to music. so a science-minded love interest would result in a different dynamic because gwen wouldn't be their intellectual equal. which could be interesting.

... but if we reframe gwen's postgrad conflict to be 'musician or professional superhero'... dating another full-time vigilante is the logical next step. how about kitty-65? or spider-punk, who's both?

(... and if being torn between two worlds is literal in her being torn between '65 or 616'.... well. maybe dating another superhero who isn't peter or miles on 616 could work too...... so, cindy moon, kaine, laura kinney or anya corazon?)

she hasn't met or begun a relationship with her true love yet. if she even has one. who knows, it's not impossible that gwen will turn out to be ace (though extremely unlikely), or if she'll simply decide to remain single. after all, she isn't romantic and doesn't want a domestic family. she'd be happy on her own.

... and since this has to be stated somewhere, it's all but obvious at this point that gwen's queer. she needs to have both male and female love interests.

being in the closet, pressured into comphet and sucked into imbalanced relationships where she'd be the subservient partner (usually to a man) are currently what defines gwen's romantic life, and the roadblocks stopping her from moving on. so before she gets any further, she's gonna have to resolve those issues first. which is gonna take a while, because of spiderverse synergy throwing her at miles like a tomato at the wall to see if gwiles will stick every year and marvel's reluctance to let her be queer and leave the male gaze.

at this point gwen's love interests can be paired too. and like peter and miles, it's reflective of her romantic arc (evolving from an object of someone else's desire to a subject who chases her own), which is related to her personal one (a queer girl fighting for equality and autonomy in a universe that wants to keep those things from her). it's about gwen's level of agency, equality and reciprocity in the dynamic:

she begins with virtually no say in her relationships and no equality over her partner, who she isn't even that into. she's shoved into forced romances with more popular and powerful men that she isn't particularly attracted to but knows she's 'supposed to be with' who trap gwen in the male gaze, pressure her to live up to an ideal that makes her uncomfortable (earth-8) or kills her (earth-616), and take her away from her world (peter and miles).

she starts to deepen her relationships with people she's sincerely attracted to [who are also her world's versions of peter's supporting cast] but can't be with because of extenuating circumstances related to gwen being a superhero and them being unable to keep up with her (harry and em jay).

logically, the next threshold should be overcoming those circumstances to actually have lasting romantic relationships with people who are her equals. and the love interests should be characters unconnected to peter parker, miles morales, or their supporting casts. something new.

since gwen's all but confirmed as bi at this point, she has to date at least one woman for an extended period of time to lock that in. at least one of those threshold three love interests must be a woman.

and given how much her story revolves around dodging comphet and escaping the effects of the straight male gaze, she should never ever end up with a cishet guy. she must end up with a queer person.

and then maybe we'll find out if gwen's genuinely not interested in romance, or if she was so traumatized that she didn't realize she could be in a healthy relationship with someone she's actually attracted to and like it.

if it's the latter, then she'd better get actual closure with harry and em jay, where she can actually be in relationships with them, since she's barely dated harry and hasn't even gotten together with em jay, or at least acknowledge why ghostgoblin or gwenjay didn't work out.

and then give her 3-4ish major male and female love interests to compensate for the toxic and one-sided relationships she's had so far and never let a straight guy get his hands on her again. most of her experience being that is too depressing.

#spider gwen meta #peter parker #miles morales #gwen stacy #miles x tiana #gwenjay #ghostgoblin #peter x mj

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wil-is-done · 11 months ago

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The Strings Between

Summary: A boy born of the moon, a girl cursed with a cruel past, and a bowstring between them.

Word Count: 1,607

He let go. The string released the held tension. The arrow pierced through the air, until it struck dead center of the bullseye, joining the eight others adorning it.

Kubo breathed, satisfied. He lowered his bow, releasing the tension in his arms and shoulders, as he exhaled. His aim stayed true today.

Light clapping came from the side. Nearby, a pale, dark-haired girl was seated on the steps of a storage hut, smiling from ear to ear – the source of the clapping. Kubo couldn’t stop himself from rubbing the back of his neck. At least his cheeks weren’t warming up again.

“I already said, no need to clap everytime, Aggie,” he said, tacitly smiling.

“I know. It’s impressive everytime,” Aggie innocently answered.

Kubo couldn’t follow up with anything but a blush. The village had only recently stopped the unnecessary and incessant hero worship of him after his defeat of the Moon King, and then came Agatha, a strange girl from a far off land, wandering through in the midst of an inexplicable fog, bringing back all that attention with her. It never ceased being equal parts flattering and embarassing.

Although, if he was being honest, if he had to receive any kind of undue attention from anyone, he’d much prefer it to be from Aggie. Rather than overwhelming or overbearing, hers was a gentle kind. Slighty pushy and insistent at times, perhaps, but overall lifting, rather than pressuring.

And just as Kubo started loosening the bowstrings, he finally noticed how Aggie’s eyes lingered on the bow, the curious glint in them.

“Have you tried?”

Aggie blinked out of her daze. “Hm?”

“Shooting a bow. You looked fascinated. Have you tried?”

“Oh! Um, no. Back in my village, the women aren’t part of the hunting parties. Even if I-” Aggie cut herself off. An untold story hung between her pale lips. “I’ve never used a bow before, is the point.”

Kubo raised a brow, but didn’t press on. Simply internally noted how odd for Aggie, after having that look in her eyes, to suddenly be acting so… meek. “Then I’ll teach you. Show you the steps.”

“Oh, no, no, that’s fine.” Aggie shook her head. She pulls herself up to sit a bit taller, withdrawing into herself without realizing. “I don’t think… little girls are supposed to…”

“Partake in the combat arts? Nonsense.” Kubo dared himself to be just a touch more forward, hoping he wasn’t breaching a custom alien to him. “My mother was one of the fiercest warriors I know, and surely she was once a little girl.”

Aggie returned his gaze. The glint returned, and she leaned ever so slightly forward. “Did… your mother teach you archery?”

“No, actually. My father did. She preferred the blade.”

Aggie tilted her head. She looked puzzled. Immediately, Kubo understood her confusion. After all, the only family she’d ever seen him with was his grandfather.

Kubo took a breath. Even now, putting it to words never became easy. “They’re both… still with me, in a way. They always will.”

“Oh.” A stiffness spread through Aggie’s body, a shock shot through her form, before what little she opened up wilted once again. “I’m sorry.”

Kubo faltered. He wanted nothingmore than to lift Aggie’s spirits, but he could barely maintain his own. “The time we spent together was far shorter than I’d like,” he said, and not just for Aggie. “All the more reason to cherish every second of it.”

Aggie broke her gaze with him, and he took the chance to quickly breathe a silent sigh and pull back his composure. This wasn’t the point of the conversation. He had to wrench this back on track.

“But!”

Aggie met his gaze again, and a spark in those eyes compelled him to listen.

“Don’t you wish, sometimes, you can go back? Be with people you lost?”

Kubo opened his mouth, then closed it. He really wasn’t expecting these musings bubbling to the suface today.

He didn’t answer, not right away. He moved, first, up the steps to sit beside Aggie. “I won’t lie, the thought crossed my mind. More than once, in fact,” he said. The golden-red rays of the late afternoon cast him back to simpler times. “But… then I ask myself, what would they want for me?”

Aggie waited, hanging to every word.

“I feel… they want me to walk towards the next dawn.”

It was strange. He felt lighter. Didn’t even realize he still had anything left to get off his chest.

Kubo stood. The moment’s surely passed by now. “Well, if you really don’t wish to try the bow, I won’t push it.”

“No, no, no!” Aggie rapidly said, standing up with him. “Um… new experiences are good?”

“Part of looking to the dawn?” Kubo smiled, Aggie matching him sheepishly. “Alright. But only if you try it for your own sake. Not for mine. Can you do that?”

Aggie nodded. When he offered the bow, she took it with gusto, and was off to stand in front of one of the targets. One couldn’t not chuckle at that energy.

“Alright, you’ve seen me do it a few times, so you should be familiar with the basic form,” Kubo said, stepping closer to her, but still giving her plenty of space.

Aggie gave a confident nod.

Kubo handed her a single arrow. “For starters, just remember to keep your legs as wide as your shoulders, keep your back straight, handle the arrow with your dominant hand, and draw the string up to just below your chin.”

Aggie took the arrow, practically snatched it out of his hands with an infectious energy. She adjusted her stance, gazed straight ahead at the target, nocked the arrow, then began to pull. Up to this point, Kubo was impressed. She’d done all the steps pretty decently, especially considering this was her first try.

However, an issue quickly made itself known. Aggie’s pull halted at about the length of her arm, and she didn’t make any more progress, as it became clear she didn’t have the arm strength to pull the string up to her chin. After struggling with it for a good ten seconds, her grip on the arrow slipped. The arrow flew forward about half the distance to the target, before losing momentum and clattering harmlessly to the dirt.

Aggie grunted angrily, stomping the ground. Kubo quickly coughed and turned away from a moment, not in any way related to hiding a laugh.

“Maybe we can adjust the bowstring to make it less taut.” Kubo offered to take the bow from a pouting Aggie, who gave it back with a sigh.

Kubo quickly loosened the bowstring to make it easier to draw. He truly felt a little for almost laughing. He was once surprised too by how much resistance a proper bowstring actually offers. Of course a complete rookie would be caught off guard too.

“Second time’s the charm.” Kubo handed the bow back to Aggie.

“Is the second time even going to do much?” Aggie murmured, wind taken off her sails.

“Honestly, your form is already mostly there. Only needs a few adjustments.” Kubo, bracing himself to be bolder than usual again, stepped forward and offered his hands. “Um. If I may guide your form?”

“Hm? O-oh!” Aggie swallowed, a bit of red coloring her cheeks, then smiled. “S-sure?”

Kubo nodded at the confirmation, before moving so she’s standing side by side with Aggie. His left hand on Aggie’s left, his right hand reaching around to guide Aggie’s right, he stood a little closer to align his form with hers, their cheeks now only separated by inches.

“Control your breathing. Pull the string all the way back… just like that. You’re still in charge of aiming, so align the arrow as best you can. Try to catch yourself between breaths, and… release.”

Aggie let go, the arrow was launched, soared through the air, and struck the topmost area of the target.

Aggie gasped, the brightest, widest smile gracing her lips. “I hit it!”

She was still staring at the mark of her success when Kubo turned to properly face her with a smile. The smile quickly disappeared.

He had never seen her from this angle before. He had never noticed the rope burn marks around her neck.

He had never faked a smile so fast than when Aggie turned to face her.

“I actually hit it, Kubo!”

“Just like I said, second time’s the charm.” Before his smile could fail, he pointed at the arrows she shot. “Mind picking them up after? We shouldn’t waste arrows just for practice.”

“Sure thing!”

Aggie took off to gather the arrows. Kubo stepped back and allowed himself to breathe.

Aggie hadn’t said much about her story so far. Even the gentlest of attempts would be with cold silence. No matter, he wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t even think of it. But now this, as well as the awfully heavy questions she asked earlier. It was clear any story she had must be too painful to tell.

He was willing to wait. If she never told her story, he wouldn’t think less of her, too. It was only Aggie, and Aggie alone, who could decide to tell her story.

Aggie had picked up the arrow that clattered to the groud, and plucked out the arrows stuck to the target board. When she turned to face Kubo, she wore a smile as dazzling as the dawn.

“Do you think I’ll get a bullseye on my third try?”

For now, Kubo had a new resolve.

“Let’s find out.”

It was of utmost importance that Aggie continues to smile.

This fic was commissioned by @kpyeeper, who wanted to see this rarepair of Kubo and Aggie, with Kubo teaching Aggie some basic archery and just generally be sweet with each other.

The semester I spent in archery club finally paid off. But anyway, this fic is long overdue, first pushed back in a big way by busy life stuff, then pushed back just a little more because I can't stop doubling back and tweaking around with it. I've never worked with this pairing before and I kept feeling like something's off, but with this I feel like I have finally arrived at a version that I'm happy with. I hope you're all happy with it too.

#kubo and the two strings #paranorman #kubo #agatha prenderghast

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atrwriting · 2 years ago

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Request! 💜

something about Aemond trying to seduce reader? Could be modern or canon, headcanons or a Drabble, I just want to know how you think he’d act and how he’d try to win reader over!

love your writing and eagerly waiting for updates on your stories ❤️💛💜

omg tysm for the request!!! and tysm for saying such sweet things i adore u!!!!!!!! xo

this is a fun request im excited

this could go one of two ways honestly like there's definitely a side of him where he's mean and scary and doesn't really mean to seduce someone but then he's mad at them and screaming and he just cant help but want to kiss you and throw you up against the wall but

ok let's get inside aemond's head for a second. i know this man wouldn't shy away from using a sword, arguing about history, or deciding which battle strategy is best because there just isn't a challenge this man wouldn't face. he's seen women before at court, he's discussed his possible future marriage alliances before, and he's been flirted with, but there's never been a moment where he actually considered that he might actually want to flirt with someone

and trying to seduce someone? omg YOU KNOW that man would experience hesitation for the first time since he was a kid. it would make him super frustrated with himself, almost making him doubt even attempting to make conversation with someone he likes

but then there's you

he's felt sexual/physical attraction before, of course, but coupled with actually enjoying the person's company and the things they say? the man is down BAD

he finds it difficult to steal you away from the prying eyes of the court, but he always seems to find you at banquets or walking in the gardens

first he'd try small talk (as our prince is always good and proper)

he loves conversation with you because you always seem to enjoy the conversation and his company and that definitely does something to him

and let's be honest his family likes when you're around him too because he actually smiles and isn't as moody

and then suddenly you're not just the pretty and kind person at court that aemond enjoys spending time with

he's no longer nervous around you because now he wants you and aemond targaryen is always up for a challenge

i feel like this man's big shabang attempt at seduction would be in a very specific situation

no one can convince me that aemond targaryen is a dancer, but for you? he would steal you away for at least one dance

everyone would be absolutely astonished someone got aemond "moody" targarygen out on the dance floor because that man does not dance

this man would have one hand on the small of your back to keep you steady as he leads

and the other hand is keeping yours with his, but gentle and soft as you both look at each other and enjoy the song

he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about how beautiful your smile is and how he loves when your eyes grin with your lips

when the song ends and everyone is clapping, he would definitely whisper something flirty in your ear

"i would only dance for the most beautiful girl in the hall, my dear"

now you've got this man giving you a small, shy grin that FORCES him to look away and clap with the rest of the crowd

he knows he's big, bad, and scary but nothing stops him from being soft with you

and that's how he wins you over: but showing you a side of him that no one else sees, that being the side where he does not feel like he has to go on the defensive or into offensive mode

he feels safe with you, and when aemond targaryen is on your side, you would always feel safe with him

ty for reading hope you liked it :)

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fic #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond smut #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x you

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zukotheartist · 8 months ago

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I finished Succession and Shiv's role was so interesting to me because of course, on one side it's so sad to see how she never stood a fucking chance because she's a woman and you have to change the system, not fight for a seat at the table (where, if you do get it, you'll go on to opress other women and minorities), so she just ends up staying with Tom, supporting him and having his kid because she'll have more power that way than if she lets Kendall be CEO.

(Maybe it's just extra sad to me because i'm sapphic and tho i do like men, id prefer marrying a woman exactly for the social aspect of it - i wont be expected to give birth, be a stay at home wife/mom, etc while Shiv's literally become like her mother and Marcia and all the other women her father's messed with).

BUT on the other hand...

it's such a nice fuck you to her because time and time again, she's chosen the opressor's side. She's a white "feminist" through and through. She only cared about important issues either on a surface level to appear morally good and superior to her family (Roman being the only honest one of the siblings, calling out how they're all terrible people but the others just try to hide it because they like being seen as a good person more than they like actually being a good person) or when they got so concerning that they could have even affected Her (abortion, Roman points out that she won't have a problem since she's rich and he's right to some extent but if abortion is criminalised, you're gonna have to be careful about getting it even if you have the money for an illegal one because rich people are always being paparazzied and "a source close to the family has shared this" and that and Shiv was most likely already pregnant when she was making the abortion argument when deciding who to back as President of the United States). She picked herself, her own interests and the opressive messed up system over and over again, thinking that with her power and privilege she'd be the exception if she fought hard enough, only to finally fucking realise that she was never going to win because the system that she constantly supported never cared about supporting her or people like her.

The only difference between her and Kendall (who also loved to play the feminist card when it was favourable but it was only for show, to get approval and treated his female workers like shit, mansplaining to his lawyer Lisa and to his assistant Jess, who are also both specifically black and would be even more affected by Mecken as President) is that Kendall's a guy so he can't play the woman card and instead has to go for the White Knight Saviour complex card. Shiv, being a woman, can act exactly like Kendall but then turn around and play the "oh but you're only angry with me because I'm a woman" card (btw, I DO think they were all sexist to her and that's not justifiable and she IS allowed to call out the sexism that she deals with personally, but she doesn't get to use the feminist/sexism card overall and then just ditch it when it's convenient).

Btw this same argument goes for their queerphobia, they were completely alright with it at moments and then at others, mainly when used against them, (like Kendall saying Lukas was being homophobic by calling Kendall's numbers gay) they would call it out "hey dad, that's homophobic/transphobic". So, which is it? Are the queer-trans jokes funny and alright or are they messed up?

These are ALL terrible characters and i love and hate them so much and the writers of this show are fucking amazing, holy shit, what a ride!

#shiobhan roy #roman roy #kendall roy #tom wambsgans #succession #shiv roy #romulus roy #ken roy #al's post

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thewordworrier · 2 years ago

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She’s The Lady Of Our House

Word Count: 3,550 words. A short one for me. To be honest, I think I’m a lil rusty at the moment. Notes: ~ Title from - “Mother Like Mine” by The Band Perry. ~ Female OC, but y’all know that. ~ I think this is written a little differently to how I’d normally write, it’s almost in the same veins as Once, Twice, Three Times... but not quite. ~ I couldn’t really be bothered to look up if the dates I mentioned actually co-incided with actual tour dates, so play along with me. Ohsnap, she finished something! Well, Mother’s Day in the UK is on March 19th, and Shelly is technically British so, why not? I didn’t get the chance to write something for International Women’s Day for her, and she recently told me the name of her third (!!!) baby so I figured, eh, let’s see where it goes. And I know I technically missed it! Only just! (But it’s not the 20th until I go to bed so? 🤷🏼) Title and image inspired by the fact that she’s always been Gerard’s heart, and while Frank may be the beating heart of the band, Shelly’s been the heart of the band-family. I think they’d be just as protective of her as she is of them. Anyhow! On we go.

~~~ The first time Shelly received something for Mother’s Day, was, surprisingly, not when she was actually a mother. She didn’t qualify for the ‘holiday’ in the slightest. Nor was it at the time of year she was used to. Growing up in the United Kingdom, Shelly always celebrated Mother’s Day in March, ish. She celebrated both for her mama and her grandmother, although she would focus more on her own mother, naturally. That was perfectly normal for her. So when she started working for My Chemical Romance, she had to start adjusting her personal timelines because not everything matched up on either side of the pond. Mother’s Day, in America, tends to fall in May, for example. She was pretty glad that she was so organised, that she had her planner. If she didn’t write things like that down, then she’d forget. Although she would probably never be as forgetful as the four ‘boys’ she considered her charges. Then again, she wasn’t entirely sure that they knew what day of the week it was most of the time, and that was okay. That was her job. They were very good at just following her directions; all trusting her to get them to the next destination on time and in one piece. She hadn’t let them down so far. Shelly had managed to arrange some time for each of the boys to call their mothers on the day in question, had managed to schedule enough time in one location so they could all do it in one fell swoop. After each call, she was called in with the son/s in question to be gently questioned in front of them; the usual is he behaving, is he treating you nicely, sort of deal. And then she was genuinely thanked for arranging the time for the guys to call home. “Not a problem ma’am,” she said with a smile. “A boy’s gotta respect his mama.” Once the last call had been made, the guys waited until Shelly was settled down and absorbed in a little paperwork again. Then, one by one, they wandered past her table and dropped little gifts on it for her - just little things they found at the gas stations during rest stops, but it was the thought that counted. The first item was put on the table near her and she blinked rapidly, not taking her eyes off of the paperwork she was almost hunched over. Then the second, which made her glance over at the items, focusing more on them and not at whoever was walking by as the third was put down. She frowned, the fourth was put down and the footsteps scurried away as she sat up a little. Shelly focused her attention on the little pile of items on the table instead of the boys down the other end of the bus. Curiously, she reached out and pulled the items closer - a couple of larger packets of her favourite candy, a little cat keychain, a single pink rose and, finally, a small (pocket sized really) stuffed bear she vaguely remembered looking at. “Boys,” she said quietly before looking up to see them gathered together, watching her as she looked over the gifts. “What… What’s this?” They exchanged looks before Ray spoke first. “It was Frank’s idea, actually.” Shelly tilted her head, glancing at the shorter guitarist, who was looking… A little embarrassed actually. “Frankie?” He hummed and cleared his throat a little, glancing at the brothers before looking back at her. “Well,” he said quietly. “Gerard said -” “Hey!” He frowned at Frank, wondering where this was going. “- When we interviewed you, that your job was almost like that of a glorified babysitter, and you agreed.” She grinned. “I made a similar comment to Andrea, actually, so he’s not wrong.” Gerard relaxed a little, his eyes focusing on her hands as she rubbed the small bear’s ears with her thumb. “And with the way you look after us, making sure we’re presentable, that we’re on time, that I don’t get as sick as often as I could…” Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s almost like you’re the band mom,” Mikey finished quietly. Shelly blinked rapidly for a moment. “Which isn’t a bad thing!” Frank added quickly. “We call Ray ‘band dad’ sometimes,” Gerard said with a grin. “But a mom always does it better,” Ray finished. The blonde glanced back down at the small gifts, staying quiet for a moment. The guys glanced at each other before Frank cleared his throat. “We’re just tryin’ to say that we appreciate you and how you take care of us.” “We’re not trying to be weird,” Mikey shook his head. “Though we guess that it could come off that way.” Shelly didn’t say anything. Instead she just pushed herself to her feet and made her way down to their end of the bus. Frank was the closest, so he got a hug first; her arms around his neck taking him by surprise. He recovered quickly and hugged her back before she reached out and pulled the other three towards her as well, ending up in the middle of a band hug. “For goodness sake,” she mumbled, making sure each boy had a little ‘squeezy hug’ time while staying in the middle. “You didn’t have to do that at all.” “We’re sorry it’s not much -” Ray started, shutting up quickly when she shot him a look. “Don’t even start with that,” she said. “It’s the thought that counts, the fact that you even bothered in the first place.” “That means we did okay then?” Gerard asked quietly. “Oh darlings! Yes, of course!” Shelly then squeaked as they squeezed her in another band hug. “You didn’t have to though, but thank you, I really do appreciate it.” “We appreciate you,” Frank mumbled from near her shoulder, squeezing her a bit tighter, almost like he was trying to say, ‘especially me’ - she did a lot to protect his health after all. “And I appreciate you all being so good for me,” she said as they started to let her go. Gerard swallowed quietly at those words as they all retreated to go and sit back down. “I’ve heard stories about those like me, who’s… Er, bosses? Charges? Whatever,” Shelly waved it off, settling back at her table. “They make it really difficult for their version of me to do their job, or make it really awkward or uncomfortable.” “Why would you do that to someone who’s just trying to help you?” Mikey asked with a wrinkle of his nose. Shelly shrugged. “Some people get off on the power dynamic I guess?” Ray and Mikey pulled the exact same face and she giggled. The noise made Gerard smile down at his sketchbook. He didn’t see Frank watching him before the short guitarist went to sit opposite Shelly. She smiled at him as he sat down, and he watched her attach the cat keychain to her pencil case. “Looking after you boys is like looking after a herd of kittens,” she said quietly, a smile on her face as she finished twisting the keyring onto the zipper. “You were a little cautious until you were coaxed out from under the sofa. Now I’m chasing you around, rescuing you from situations and trying to keep you in one place.” This comparison seemed to amuse Frank because he laughed and Gerard looked up at the noise, glancing over to Shelly soon after. She had moved the rose and bags of candy closer to her and was sort of… Petting the small bear again, rubbing one of its ears between her thumb and forefinger. “I’m sure we’ve been compared to worse behind our backs,” Mikey said. “People best not do that in front of me, I’m not gonna stand for that.” “Mama bear’s protective,” Frank grinned at her, getting a small smile and a giggle back. “I’m more of a lion than a bear,” she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m a Leo after all.” “And you did just call us a herd of cats,” Gerard added. “So that seems to track.” Frank looked from Shelly to Gerard, and then back to Shelly again, tilting his head as he looked at her. “I can see that.” “See what?” “The Leoness,” Frank said. “You take pride in your hair, your mane. And you always seem to do your make-up in that cat’s eye fashion, even if it looks softer on you.” Shelly looked briefly amused. “That’s true. I think it suits my features better.” “So, not mama bear,” Frank moved so Gerard could take the window seat next to him. “But mama cat?” “Mama lion,” Gerard mumbled, a little shyly as he settled. “Technically.” “Like I said,” Shelly looked over some of her paperwork. “People best not say bad stuff about my boys in front of me. I’m not afraid to get my claws out.” Frank made a friendly, flirty growling noise which made Gerard roll his eyes. “Oooh, feisty mama!” The other three guys groaned and Shelly blushed. However, when Gerard looked over his sketchbook, she had a tiny little smile on her face, so she couldn't have been that mad. “Right,” she said. “Moving on! Let’s go over what’s happening next, shall we?” ~#~ This became a tradition - Shelly would remind them about their mothers, and they’d remember her on the day as well. She didn’t remind them because they’d remember her - if anything, she never expected anything. She was pleasantly surprised when they remembered the year after, although she sighed softly at them and shook her head, moving to stand up. “Darlings, I’m not your mama, you don’t need to -” “Band mom,” Ray said before she even finished her sentence, being the first in line to hug her and give her the small gift. “How many times do we need to tell you that?” Mikey hugged her tightly before he gently put his gift on the table next to her. “Although,” Frank was next, waiting until he’d had his hug before he continued. “If you want me to call you mommy…” “Frank!” The joint chorus made him laugh and he scampered away, dodging the others as he did so. Shelly rolled her eyes and shook her head, though neither of those actions did anything to soften the blush on her face. “One day Frankie,” she said after a minute. “I’m going to call your bluff on something like that.” Frank clicked his tongue at her and shot her finger guns. “I can’t wait.” Gerard sighed from in front of her and shook his head, putting his own gift with the other three before turning to her. She smiled at him, held her arms out and made little grabbing motions with her hands. He didn’t need to be told or asked twice - he wrapped his arms tightly around her and leant his chin on her shoulder. “Gimme gimme,” she murmured quietly enough so only he could hear her. “I like your hugs Gee.” He hummed happily and replied just as softly. “I like yours.” Shelly squeezed him just a little tighter before letting him go and stepping back so she could sit down again. They didn’t always buy her gas station gifts - but they always got her something, and it was always something small. It had to be, otherwise she’d scold them, they all knew that. But she didn’t mind - as she said the first year, it was the thought, the effort, the inclusion, that mattered to her. She was always happy with the little things they chose - she started to develop a little collection of interesting trinkets. She always made a little note of who got her what (not that they’d ever know about that because she kept that to herself) - and not just for this one occasion. When they found out her birthday and started remembering that, she made notes for that too. When they came back ‘to her’ after going home to see their families the first Christmas she worked with them, they returned with little trinkets for her then too. (Although for Christmas, she was guilty of having things for them when they came back; baked treats and little useful things mostly, but they were very appreciative.) They never forgot her birthday, or her at Christmas, or (American) Mother’s Day - but that first one was special to her; she held onto the keychain, the bear and the rose petals that she later on pressed and preserved. She was sentimental, sue her. All three items would later go on to live on a display shelf in her future family home - right in between two photographs; a more casual one of her and the boys not long after they’d finished recording Revenge, and the other was one of them attending their first awards show with her by their side; one of the first times she’d dressed up a little more for them. Not enough to stand out, the show wasn’t about her, it was about them, after all, but she put more effort in because of how proud of them she was. ~#~ The first time Shelly qualified to celebrate the day, she wasn’t even sure that it really counted. Maybe it was more of a technicality. Mother’s Day, in America at least, fell in the first few days of April that year, the 3rd, specifically. Her boys would celebrate her the day after - because they refused to not do something for her; and she had long since insisted that the actual day belong to actual mothers. Well. That year, she was, technically, an actual mother, if the pregnancy tests she’d been taking - at least one a week for about three weeks; if they were to be believed. The tour they’d been on had been so busy, so hectic, she’d hardly had time to think about the results, let alone think about telling her husband. So, she reminded the guys to call their mothers, and/or the mothers of their children on the day itself. The day after, she didn’t get much of a choice in regards to them celebrating their ‘band mama’ - her. She always pretended to be a little cross with them when they did more than she expected - which was almost every year. Shelly glanced across the table at her husband as Frank wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her against him, kissing the top of her head. She watched Gerard scowl playfully at Frank, which made the guitarist laugh. “That’s my wife,” Gerard grumbled. “And my exception,” Frank said with a grin, which just got bigger when Shelly shifted in her spot, which moved her closer to him. “Now now,” Mikey said from next to Gerard. “Put my sister in law down, you dog.” “I would never take you away from your babies Frankie,” Shelly shifted away from him and closer to Gerard, who wrapped his arm around her as soon as she got close enough. “Wouldn’t want to leave them without their dad.” “Because you’re a good woman Shell.” “Yeah, and she’s my woman,” Gerard almost growled. “Hands off.” Frank just laughed while the others shook their heads. The whole thing was interrupted by a waitress bringing over a shareable, fancy dessert and the guys wishing her a ‘happy (band) mother’s day.’ She nearly told Gerard that night, but he was feeling possessive and she was more than willing to let him lay claim to her again - like she’d ever turn that down. Because of this, the busy touring schedule and all the travelling, she didn’t really get the opportunity to tell him the news for another… Five days. April 9th. ~#~ Just under a year later, Shelly had her first, fully qualified (not just on a technicality) Mother’s Day - she had an actual baby now! Melody Grace was born the November after she broke the news - apparently she had been a bit further along than she’d first thought. Gerard, however, chose not to wait until May; when he would normally celebrate Mother’s Day. Shelly was predominantly British, English, after all - and he knew that she was proud of that, really. Instead, he double checked the dates and decided to surprise his wife on the date that the British would celebrate Mother’s Day. He woke up before she did and managed to see to their baby before the little one started making enough noise to wake her mama. He fed her, singing softly to her as he winded her and got her ready for the day. He’d actually managed to steal some alone time with their daughter the day before - and during that time he’d managed to start making a card using Melody’s little handprint. Gerard had enough time to start gathering together stuff to make Shelly some breakfast before he heard a little bit of noise on the baby monitor that he’d thought to bring with him. As soon as he heard his wife, he scooped up their baby and made his way up to the bedroom. Shelly was sitting up, rubbing her eyes a little and looking confused. “Good morning love,” he said quietly, trotting over and gently putting the baby in the arms of his wife. “Morning,” she mumbled, holding Melody close and cooing to her. “Hello to you too pumpkin. Have you had some morning time with daddy?” Melody gurgled happily up at her mama and Gerard beamed with pride before leaning down to kiss his wife. “I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” He said, waiting for her to nod before disappearing back to go and make her breakfast - although he made a detour to his office first. He made her a simple breakfast, not because he couldn’t make her anything complicated, but purely because she didn’t often eat a lot in the morning. He made sure the tray was balanced, put the card he and Melody had made on it, alongside the gift he’d picked up and made his way back up to their bedroom. He carefully put the tray on the bed by her side before gently taking their daughter from her. Shelly looked up at him, clearly confused. “What… What is this?” “Have a look.” She frowned at him before reaching for the envelope propped up against the glass, flipping it over and opening it before easing the card out. She turned it over and her expression melted. “Is that -?” She glanced up at her husband, not opening the card because she was distracted by the picture on the front. “A little one’s handprint?” Gerard finished with a nod, moving around to perch on the edge of the bed next to her when he saw her… Almost crumple? “Hey, hey, it’s alright!” “It’s so tiny,” Shelly sniffled and leant against him as he hugged her as best as he could with one arm. “What’s all this for Gee?” “Open the card,” he kissed the side of her head. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow before opening the card in her lap. Gerard watched her read the simple but heartfelt message before she frowned. “Gee?” Shelly carefully put the card aside, tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted to look at him properly. “It’s only March. Mother’s Day is in May.” “Over here, yes, that’s right,” he paused and could almost see her putting the pieces together. “But you’re mostly British, baby. The American date is for you as our band-mom. But you’re a baby mama now.” The blonde rubbed her eyes a little bit, obviously touched. “Gee, she’s not even one yet, she doesn’t know what’s going on.” He chuckled and gestured towards a small box on the breakfast tray. “No, but when she does, she’ll take over from me.” “You did not need to do anything for me for this,” she sighed, picking up the box and examining it, not quite opening it yet. “What’ve you been buying?” “Open it,” he urged gently. She frowned at him before doing as she was told. Nestled in the box was a pendant; a heart shaped November birthstone with a little silver oval tag attached. Engraved on one side of that tag, was the letter M, and on the other, Melody’s birthdate. “If we have more,” Gerard said softly. “Then you’ll get one for each baby. I… I um, I know you don’t like anything too big or obvious -” “Gee, it’s perfect,” she whispered. “It’s like the bracelet I have with you guys’ birthstones on it.” “Those are stars though.” “Mm, I know,” she put the box down and moved to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, love.” Gerard beamed and managed to kiss her properly. Not for long though, because Melody squirmed in his arms. “Sorry pumpkin,” he adjusted her so she was higher on his chest. “Let mama eat first, then you can have more cuddles.” Melody cooed up at her father, and Shelly giggled. “And after breakfast, daddy’s gonna do whatever mama wants, all day.” Shelly snorted softly into her drink. “Gee, you do that anyway.” He grinned at her upon hearing this. “Of course I do, you’re my woman, that’s my job. But really, I’ll even cook for you, if you want.” “Oh no, let’s not go that far.” “Hey!”

#She Speaks #She Writes #my fan fic #Gerard Way x OC #March 2023

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overheaven · 1 year ago

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hypmic spoilers

hahah nooo don’t humanize Rei he’s so sexy and unknowable…

no but really i do want him to always be at least a smidge “irredeemable” if you know what i mean. “redemption” is so trite and misused in fannish type stuff these days so i don’t even like using that word but it’s the best i’ve got. i really hope his motivations don’t end up wholly justifying his actions yknow? i don’t think he needs to be a villain (i don’t think there are any villains in hypmic actually, just antagonists. characters with wildly different motives and morals yknow.) but i would be very sad if all of his edges got smoothed.

while i love guys who are just Bad and Gross all the way through, it makes for an interesting character that he was “good” (or at least “honest”) at some point but then he got burned or even just backed into a corner and had to play the villain to get [his loved ones or even himself] out safely. again, Hypmic just doesn’t have many characters who are just evil for the sake of being evil, the main characters DO often have good intentions and multilayered backstories, complex conflicts that they have to deal with and navigate imperfectly. they all get messy. but i do fear Rei’s choices being undermined by a big HAHA IT WAS ALL AN ACT!! AND I’M SORRY!! moment. he’s a lot like Ardyn from FFXV for me, where yeah the guy as we know him was forged in grief and genuine good intent, but that doesn’t absolve him of the dubious things he’s done on the way here. remorse doesn’t mean shit when you’re digging your heels in and continuing to stomp down a path of spite.

i mean he even tells Saburo that one time like “even if i had a good reason for it, i still abandoned you kids.” so he’s aware of the role he’s been given, he’s not biding his time until he can shuck off this slimy facade and reveal a kind sad repentant man uwu— he IS a bit of a scumbag and he knows it. & he doesn’t expect his family to forgive him! (also i personally would love if he’s been kind of like. leaning into it too much and yknow. might as well have fun with it! if you want me to be a suspicious scheming conman, i will be! he’s committed to the bit too much etc etc. his solos are all about hustling and manipulating people and all that… it would be charming if that’s a genuine side of him just as much as his more “noble” ideals are)

ULTIMATELY i don’t want fans to end up with a really shallow take of “aw he was just a wife guy all along 🥺 he made some mistakes but he’s trying to take the world back from these Evil Women 🥺 he loves his sons 🥺 which means he’s Good, actually” UGH. like that’s my worst nightmare lol. but i guess other interpretations don’t have to be my problem even if that comes to pass because yknow he’s subject to my own He Would Not Fucking Say That sense when i come to this fandom & i can always pretend i do not see it i just. (claws at my skull) please let him be gross. just let him be sleazy and mysterious. he can have a heart of gold underneath but please understand that he’s still Like This now and he can’t go back.

THAT ALL SAID i don’t take issue with the most recent events, he’s still not showing us all of his cards and he’s still always cryptic. there’s a lot of potential for him to still be dishonest and stubborn, weaving webs and burning things down, all that. Otome is posed as someone who had good intentions but became “corrupted” so to speak. Rei even says he thinks something of this nature & that’s why he’s trying to destroy what she’s done in order to correct it all. so narratively, Otome is the Big Bad and Rei is “on our side” (i.e., on a team, part of the main cast) but we really shouldn’t forget that he’s a foil for her. whatever ideals he has are not The Solution just because he’s on this side— they’re his ideals, not the story’s ideals. his goals & methods are probably just as Wrong as hers by now. also i love them both a LOT i think they should both get worse.

i don’t have a conclusion to this post lol. just pondering the state of things and admiring the complexity of this character that i love, and how you can’t have his complexity without baggage, and hopefully things will get even MORE complicated as the story goes on… it’s great.

also i hope he pays attention to Jiro soon because i don’t want my baby suffering from too much middle child syndrome please please please let him have a one on one with Jiro too

#hypmic #rei amayado #amayado rei #meta #tagging this in case anyone wandering the tags might be interested in some meta #i wrote half of this on my phone and half on my computer i think hope the formatting isn’t weird. fuck the mobile app #pangs stuff #rei tag

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imaginationofomi · 2 months ago

Text

Come Together

Twenty-One

The car ride back home might as well have been silent. Tony had fallen asleep and Francine was on her way out, but Bonnie sat wide awake, glancing at Nayeli repeatedly while she drove back to other side of town. She unpacked the last few hours and felt a myriad of emotions when she considered all of the details.

"That was a lovely evening," she said as they got closer to her youngest's home.

"It was."

"And Tatianna just adores you."

"It's a mutual feeling." Nayeli wasn't saying much, and Bonnie knew when something was wrong with any of her children.

Unsure of specifics, she pushed a little more to get her to open up, "EJ's definitely smitten, dare I say, in love?" Both families got a front row seat and backstage passes to the budding union. Bonnie was entirely surprised that EJ hadn't pulled her and Maxwell to the side to ask for their blessing.

"You really think so?" For the first time since they got in the car, Nayeli took her eyes off off the road and looked over at her mother even though she couldn't see much through the darkness.

"I know and so do you," Bonnie stated.

"Yeah, well that feeling's mutual, as well."

"If that's the case, why did I feel so much tension coming from you today?"

"Mommy, I love him. Bad," Nayeli sighed, "and I feel like I'm crazy for it because there's no way I should be in love like that this soon. He's promised me the world, and I want to believe him. I do believe him, but-"

"But nothing. EJ and Jalen are two very different men."

"I know that. That's not where I was going with it." Like at all. Jalen wasn't even in the realm of her thoughts until the name was brought up against her will.

"Oh. Carry on."

She sighed again and shook her head, "What if things change down the line? Like he feels this way now because everything is new and fun and intense, but what happens when that fades? We haven't seen each other on our worst days yet. What if it's too much for us? It just feels like we're going a step too fast. We still have a lot to learn."

"Your concerns are normal, but you're making mountains out of molehills. Every couple has to learn to deal with the other being upset, including new ways to communicate when the old ways stop working. There are reinforcements for a reason. I'm not saying don't be concerned, but don't let those concerns consume you. Don't look for a problem when there isn't one."

"I'm just being crazy then?"

"I wouldn't call you crazy. I understand what you're feeling. Something seems too good to be true, you wait for the other shoe to drop. I'll be honest, when Maxine told me about him, I was skeptical. I've never heard her refer to a man outside of family as a gentleman or anything remotely positive. She didn't say one bad word about him, and I won't either. I'm actually impressed by him. Bringing our families together speaks more than any conversation could. His intentions are clear, so it's time to decide if you're ready," Bonnie explained.

"I thought I was."

"What's making you think differently?"

"Everything. Nothing. I'm just worried that one day I'm going to wake up and realize that I latched onto him so quickly because he said all of the right things and I'm not getting any younger." It would be a sad day for everyone because it would mean that their love wasn't real, and she wanted it to be. She wanted her mind to be free of doubts, but they still sat at the back of her head like children in class, hands raised and waiting to be addressed.

"That's reality for some women. I don't think it's yours. Do you feel like you're settling?"

"No! Absolutely not, but talking about marriage and introducing families after a couple of months of knowing each other? I've been on edge about it for days. At first I accepted that things were just different with him, but what if it's not? What if we both just don't want to be alone and all the serotonin and dopamine rushes from a new relationship are making us think we're in love? What if we just trauma bonded because he saved my life?" Nayeli asked, panic in her voice and face.

"Honey, that's not what trauma bonding is," Bonnie said and patted her arm.

"You know what I mean."

"I do, and if I hadn't seen what I saw today, I might be worried right along with you, but I'm not. I can tell the difference between lust, love, and unhealthy attachments, and today, I saw a man deeply in love with my daughter."

"Lust can look like love."

"Lust looks like lust. All passion, no depth. If your relationship was nothing more than lust, EJ wouldn't have invited us over. He certainly wouldn't be talking marriage nor would he have gone to church with you, and you wouldn't be about to have a fit. I listened to him brag about you, watched him dote on you. He knew things about you that your father and I didn't even know. He treated us all like we're family. He actually took the time to get to know us. I watched his daughter express how important you are to her, and you boohoo cried about a damn cupcake. You love him, you love Tatiana, and he loves you. It's okay, Baby Love. Stop trying to make sense of the timeline. No one is telling you to walk down the aisle tomorrow. Express what you're feeling, continue to date him, fall in love a little more. There's nothing wrong with that, and if the time comes where you have to go your separate ways, be at peace knowing sometimes things don't work out but your love was real, because it is. Let good things come to you, Nayeli. You had trash for so long that you're waiting to open the box and find more, whether you realize it or not."

Nayeli exhaled and pressed on the accelerator when her light turned green, mulling over Bonnie's words. Maybe her mother was right, though she didn't agree. She'd have to spend some more time with it and herself.

"Thanks, Mom," she said because the advice was welcomed either way. When they reached her home, she pulled into her driveway and cut her car off, helping Bonnie get Tony into her vehicle while Francine yawned and stretched herself out in the back seat.

Nayeli said goodnight to the rest of her family but tried to keep Leticia back. Now that they weren't in mixed company, they could have a real conversation, but Leti made an excuse to dip, leaving Nayeli frustrated and annoyed. She walked into her home, checking on the starter plants she had in various windows. After another week or two, they would be done hardening off, and she could plant them outside.

She showered, gave her hair and scalp a good scrub for the week, and moisturized her body before moussing and diffusing her wet curls into place. Her phone was active thanks to the group message. Renée had met a man and sent him over for approval. She refrained from replying because the last few times she did, Renée would suddenly disappear. She'd taken herself out of the chat completely, but Morgan added her right back in. She only spoke when spoken to directly.

Free of visitors in the comfort of her home, she turned on some music and danced naked around her living room, letting loose to hopefully clear her mind so she could organize her thoughts. There was much to consider, but her phone alerted her that she had a text message, and two minutes later, she was putting on clothes and preparing for Ezra to come see her.

She wanted to say no when he asked to stop by. She hadn't been out of his house for more than a couple of hours and wasn't anywhere close to making sense of the mess that was her brain, but they didn't get a lot of alone time that day, and she did ask him to talk. Clean panties and a t-shirt were all she wore until he said he was five minutes away, then she pulled on sweats, leaving her door unlocked for him and sitting on her couch with a pillow in her lap.

"Baby, it's me!" he announced himself, and she heard the deadbolt click into place. Facing the hallway that led to the front, she smiled softly at him and tilted her head back when he bent down to kiss her.

"Couldn't even make it a few hours without me?" she teased, lifting her knees to her chest to open the spot next to her. He grabbed a hold of her ankles and pulled her legs over his, resting a hand on her knee.

"You said you wanted to talk, but we didn't get to before you left," he said.

"Yeah." The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say them. How could she ask him to slow down after the day they had? It would've made more sense to tell him before, but she didn't want to disappoint anyone, least of all, him and Tati. Her mouth opened and closed, still nothing came out. She was ready to put it all on the table earlier, and now she was thinking twice. Part of it was her conversation with her mom. The other part was the conversation that would follow, "It's not a big deal. I was just in my head. Forget about it."

Ezra took her response as a slight, feeling like she no longer wanted to communicate with him, and it hurt, "Don't shut down on me. I messed up last time, but you can talk to me. I want you to talk to me about whatever is on your mind," he said.

"I'm not completely sure how I feel right now."

"About me?"

"About us. Today was an eye opener, and it gave me some things to think about."

"Like what?"

"Like.....maybe we're moving too fast," she answered quietly and looked down at her hands, "I'm just a little overwhelmed. Your family is amazing, and mine loves you, but it feels like we're going at warp speed. We're making all these plans when it's possible we won't feel the same way in six months, and if that's the case, we'll have introduced our families for nothing. I think we should've waited until we knew each other better."

"Waited for what?" Ezra asked, a little bite in his tone.

"To start talking marriage and family plans. We just jumped right into everything. I'm not saying I don't want to be with you, but I wa-"

"You don't have to say anything else."

"Ezra, please listen to me. I'm scared, okay? I'm scared we're doing this for the wrong reasons, and I don't want to-"

"The wrong reasons?"

"Okay, don't interrupt me again," she said and pressed her lips together.

"You had no problem interrupting me when I tried to speak a few days ago."

"I'm sorry. My emotions were heightened and-"

"So mine mean shit?"

"No. I just need you to listen to me for a second." Afraid that he would speak over her again, she held her tongue.

"I'm listening," he said, but he wouldn't look at her. His mouth had formed a hard line, and he removed his hands from her legs. It was happening, the very thing he was afraid of but knew he had to accept. He was trying to keep his composure when really he wanted to leave.

"I don't want to wake up one day, look at each other and realize that we fooled ourselves into thinking we were perfect for each other, that we settled. I don't feel that way now, but I want to be sure, and I want you to be sure. I just want to take a couple of steps back."

"Okay."

☼☼☼

Everything was not okay. Or maybe Nayeli only felt that way because she was harboring a mountain of guilt. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that she'd hurt Ezra's feelings. When he left her house a few weeks prior, he didn't acknowledge her with more than a word. No kiss, no eye contact.

They'd spoken since. Everyday in fact, but the energy between them was strained. When they did see each other, Nayeli could feel him holding back, and though she'd technically asked for it, she wasn't expecting it to sting so much. She missed the way they were before she opened her fat mouth, even if she did enjoy the time she got to herself.

"Ugh! I needed this night out. Cheers!" Morgan brought her out of her thoughts, and she picked up her Arnold Palmer, tapping the glass against her friend's.

"Me too. Cheers."

"How's the bakery?"

"Thriving. Holiday season is always exhausting, but this year has really been over the top. I think I've made more cookies in the last two weeks than I have in the last few months."

"EJ did his big one with those posts."

"He did." Nayeli tried not to look sad. She thought she made the right decision by being honest, but she wondered if she should've waited a few days for her mom's words to digest. She'd slept on it and felt wary, slept on it some more and regretted not giving herself time to process before she told Ezra what she was thinking, "How was work this week?"

"Nothing I want to talk about," Morgan said and took one long, slow breath, "But guess who I heard from yesterday."

"Who?"

"Brittany."

"She's finally getting back to people?" At one point, Nayeli thought she might've changed her number or they were all blocked because no one's calls were getting through and texts went unanswered. Brittany liked to keep her read receipts on, but all of her messages were delivered and unopened, another badge number at the top corner of the app. That was how Nayeli knew she was just intentionally ignoring everyone.

"Exactly. It doesn't sound like she's doing too hot."

"No one sane would be doing well in her shoes. Her husband is having a baby without her, and she decided to stay," Nayeli pointed out.

"That's why I feel like she shouldn't be upset. You chose to live with the foolishness so be happy for him! Don't sulk," Morgan said dismissively and used a knife to cover her piece of brown bread with softened butter.

"You know it doesn't work like that."

"It shouldn't work at all. I would've been on the phone with a lawyer as soon as the hoe showed me a pregnancy test. Sign these papers and pay me alimony plus some extra for all the emotional distress I been through, nigga."

"We just have to let her live her life and hope one day she sees the light." It didn't seem likely, but when no one else had hope, Nayeli did.

"If an outside baby won't make her stand up, nothing will. Enough about that, though. I took your advice."

"What advice? I dole out a lot."

"Starting my jewelry line. I made an Instagram and an Etsy for it."

Nayeli squealed excitedly and reached across the table to shake Morgan's arms, "Good for you! When'd you do that?"

"Last week. I already have two orders."

"Congratulations! I'm so happy for you." She got up to hug her friend, praising her for stepping out of her comfort zone and speaking affirmations over her, "I'm placing my order too. Send me the link," she said and went back to her chair, smiling politely at the older woman that was watching them.

Nayeli felt herself relaxing as they switched topics and joked about the first chapter of their latest book, Trading Places. Only she, Morgan and April were reading, but that was fine with her. It would be easier to have a discussion that didn't end with two of them cursing each other out. All was fine and dandy until Morgan asked the foreboding question.

"Why are you avoiding him?"

"Who?" Nayeli stuck her fork into her shrimp scampi and twirled some noddles around it.

"EJ."

"I'm not avoiding him. I saw him yesterday." It was their most awkward encounter to date, but it did happen.

"He cornered you yesterday," Morgan corrected, shrugging when Nayeli raised an eyebrow at her, "Angelo pillow talks."

"I'm not avoiding him," Nayeli said again. She wasn't necessarily a secret keeper, but she didn't believe in sharing all of her relationship problems with her friends. One issue would lead to two and before anybody knew it, her entire circle would hate whoever it was she was dating. But she also thought about how she kept things to herself in her last relationship and how that didn't help her. If she wanted different results, she needed to use different tactics, "He told me he's going to marry me." She expected laughter, a look of astonishment, a noise of surprise, anything other than Morgan slightly dropping her head in confusion.

"Okaaaaaaaayyyy?"

"Okay?"

"You expect me to be shocked and appalled? Alright, I'll give it my best shot. Gasp! He said what? No ma'am, y'all been together for two seconds. That's weirdo behavior..........And scene. I'd be a fool to act like I didn't see that coming. EJ referred to you as his wife before I knew he was talking about you. It is weirdo behavior if you ask me, but I'd rather have a marriage minded man than one that'll drag me along until I kick his ass to the curb. I've known him longer than you, and I think he's genuine. Are you trying to say you don't feel the same way about him?" Morgan asked, adding pepper to her salad.

"That's not what I'm saying at all. He spent the night at my house on Thanksgiving, that's when he told me, and the next morning, I shared something personal with him, and he laughed at me. After that, I started thinking how can we talk about getting married if I can't confide in him? That led to a bunch of other worries I have. I just started to spiral and-"

"IIIIIIIIIIIII'M going to stop you right there." She held a hand up and shook her head sharply twice, "BayBEE, listen to me with both ears, please. Lift your hair if you must. Your first real boyfriend was a bum. Absolutely. Don't carry that shit with you. EJ is the complete and LITERAL opposite. You had one disagreement. That doesn't mean you can't confide in him. Did he acknowledge that he was wrong and apologize?"

"Yes, and I got a house full of my favorite flowers."

"A house full? Because he laughed at you?" Morgan looked at her with incredulous eyes and began to chuckle, "You started crying didn't you?"

"I was angry," Nayeli defended herself which only made Morgan laugh harder.

"Aw man, I gotta try that shit on Angelo. I might not get flowers, but I'll get something. Why did EJ laugh at you?"

"You've cackled in my face enough for one night."

"I promise I won't even giggle."

"I'm good," Nayeli said, forking more of her scampi and a piece of shrimp into her mouth.

"Come on, Nye. Friends share," Morgan whined, but Nayeli stayed quiet. Speaking everything out loud, not just the thoughts in her head but the situation as a whole, made her feel foolish. She had all the reassurance in the world, but fear still sat deep in her belly and she didn't know how to let it go. Her mother made perfect sense, and so did Morgan.

Against the warning from her brain telling her to keep her mouth shut, she told yet another truth, "I'm worried he won't like sex with me."

Morgan tucked her lips into her mouth and bit down, allowing several moments of silence to pass until the ache in her chest from holding in too much noise subsided.

"I'm not going to laugh, but I totally see why he did. Bitch, that fool is in LOVE, and you ain't even tickled his pickle or juggled his balls in your left hand yet? I need you to pick your chin up, walk in his house like you KNOW his dick stands at attention for you, and fuck that nigga 'til your shit get sore! Because hooooooooooow have you not done that already?"

"I'm nervous! I feel like a damn virgin."

"You're acting like one! Refer back to what I said thirty seconds ago. And stop avoiding him!" Morgan popped her wrist, earning a glare and pop back.

"I don't know what he told Angelo, but I literally talk to him everyday. First person I text in the morning, last person I say goodnight to. I am not avoiding him," she said yet again, "I needed some time to get my head together, so I went back to my regular routine because I slacked on volunteering, and I wanted to make up for it. It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me wanting to make sure I have a clear mind. I cannot do that with him around because I don't think straight."

"Is your mind clear now?"

"For the most part."

"Call him and let him know because there's a line of women waiting for everything you're not sure you want, and you're gonna be pissed if he decides to give it to one of them."

☼☼☼

Nervous energy thrumming through her body made Nayeli feel like she was back in high school. Staring at the mural on one of two of EJ's gym locations in the city, she hoped that he would be happy to see her and that her olive branch could ease them back into comfortability.

She was tired of the distance between them, of the rigid conversations and cumbersome exchanges. She wanted her damn boyfriend back, and she had to be the one to take the leap because she was the one that pressed the slo-mo button.

The noise of a car passing made her turn around, and she saw the Escalade that was behind her the whole drive over. If her eyes weren't playing tricks on her, she'd also noticed them sitting outside of the confectionery a few times. The windows were deeply tinted and she never got a good look at the driver, so she wasn't sure if they were a creepy customer or another problem entirely. She just made a mental note to tell Ezra.

One of the local hip-hop stations played over the speakers when she walked inside and waved at the desk attendant, Claudia. The acrid smell of sweat and rubber chilled by the AC pushed into her nostrils from all corners of the building, a main source coming from two fighters with head gear in the left ring going at it. Fit bodies glistened with perspiration, and she watching the slightly shorter man deliver a blow to his opponents abdomen that knocked him off balance.

"Please let me take a picture of your hair to send to my colorist. I need that shade of red," Claudia said lightheartedly.

"On my way out. I kind of came on a mission. Do you know if EJ's in his office?"

"I don't, but you can head back there and wait if he's not."

"Thanks," Every step she took made her more nervous than the last. Some of the people she passed recognized her from other visits and spoke. One man in particular, the one that nearly had to get his jaw wired shut, kept his greeting brief. He thought he was hot shit at one point and hit on her not realizing that she was Ezra's girlfriend, though they weren't official at the time. She hadn't even gotten the chance to say anything before Ezra was on his ass about being respectful because his comments were out of line. That happened a while back, and the man hadn't said anything to her but, 'How you doin', Miss Gallagher' since. Ezra's door was slightly ajar, and she rapped her knuckles on it twice before she walked inside, "Knock knock."

"Hey." His dimples said that he was happy to see her, and the way he came from behind his desk and pushed the door shut said he was waiting on her, "I've been thinking about you." They hugged each other for a long time, most of it her doing because if she got another two second embrace she would scream bloody murder.

"Same. I brought you lunch." The thin handles of the paper bag dangled from her fingers. Lifting her head, she poked her lips out and didn't give him a chance to meet her halfway, standing on her toes to kiss him and only pulling away when she'd gotten her fill.

"Thank you, baby." He kissed her three more times and took the bag out of her hand to set it on his desk. He sat back down and kept her with him, ecstatic that she was finally coming around. Acting like his feelings were only at half capacity didn't work for him. He missed his lady, and he was tired of being away from her so much, "How's your day going?" he asked, reaching into the bag to pull out the container of bulgogi, white rice and steamed vegetables.

"It's been good. I'm done for the week. Everything going smoothly here?"

"Not really. There's been some friction between a few people. I'm not trying to have another incident where somebody ends up in the hospital." Ezra wasn't a fan of talking to the police, and even in Briton Beach where most of the force was Black, he learned quickly the same rule he used for Black cops in a predominantly white area applied there; all skinfolk ain't kinfolk.

"Start kicking people out," Nayeli said, grabbing the plastic fork from his hand so she could feed him......and eat off his plate. Knowing her game, he laughed at her but accepted the first bite and chewed while she took the second.

"I should." They continued like that, sharing his food though she made sure he ate most of it. When his container was empty, she tossed it and got two water bottles from the mini fridge under his desk, perching herself on his lap. She slung her arms over his shoulders and pecked his lips until she reached satisfaction, "Mmm. You missed me?"

Like crazy, "Yes. I didn't expect spending less time together to suck like this."

"It does suck, but if that's what we need, so be it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Not in this case. It just made me realize how stupid I was being. I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't say that. When I really thought about what you said, I knew you were right. We did move fast, and Brandy told me I was gonna hurt my own feelings if I didn't give you time. It's my fault for trying to push. I'm sure about you, and I'm sure that won't change, but I can't expect you to be there with me. It's okay." He stroked her cheek with his thumb and pressed his forehead to hers. Nayeli's eyes shut slowly, and she put her hands on his chest, lowering her chin to connect their mouths. It was what she needed to hear, that they were okay.

"Thank you for being patient with me."

"I gotta tell you the truth. It's not something I'm used to, but you're worth it." They sat quietly as he rubbed his hands up and down her back underneath her sweater.

He was content with her back in his arms. All was right in the world. She apologized again for causing him pain, fully explaining her thought process and why she didn't want to tell him what she was thinking at first. The conversation brought them to a needed understanding, righting the wrongs and aiding future communication.

"I want a do over," he said.

"........For?"

"The first time we spent the night together was great, but the morning after didn't go well. That's why we're here, so I want a do over."

"Okay. Let's do it." Nayeli nodded, "We can do yoga together this time." She hoped he wasn't grumpy first thing in the morning. She didn't want her energy messed with.

"How do you feel about staying at my house?"

"I'm....unsure. I wonder whether or not it's too soon for Princess." So many questions would follow, and she wanted/needed to be present in the moment. Ruminating on the future might make her spiral again. She had to take things one day at a time.

"She's been trying to get you to spend the night for over a month," Ezra chuckled, "But if you feel more comfortable at your place, I'm cool with that. We'll just have to wait until my parents make it back out here." Christmas wasn't too far off, so they wouldn't have to wait that long.

"That could be a good idea. Let me think about it, but before I forget, I noticed a car following me on my way here, and I think they circled the block. I saw them again right before I came inside. They were sitting in front of the bakery, too. I'm pretty sure they've been there the last few days, actually."

"What kind of car?"

"Black escalade, license plate is 6BHF994," she rattled off, "I should call the cops, right?" Though what exactly would they do? She hadn't been approached by anyone nor could she prove that they were following her.

"No, that's your security. I don't trust your ex. Maxine filled me in, and I just wanna make sure you're safe when I'm not with you," Ezra explained, "You need to pay better your attention to your surroundings. Niles and Austin been watching you since your birthday."

She did need to pay better attention because her birthday was nearly a month ago. She'd been tailed for weeks without realizing it, "Thank you, but why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to panic about needing them. They're just a precaution. They call if they see anything funny, and they're armed just in case."

"Do you have security here?"

"I can handle myself. I keep eyes on you and Tati."

"You need to be watched, too," she said, walking to one of the windows that looked out into the gym. She peeked through the partially opened shutters and rested her back against the wall.

"That's what cameras are for. I got two people in the control room. What's the matter?"

If his conversation with Max made him want to hire extra protection for her, he was just as in danger. Nayeli didn't like the uneasy feeling coming over her. Nausea slowly worked its way to her throat from her stomach, "I'm worried for you, that's all. You don't have any armed security?" she asked and looked through the shutters again. Nothing seemed abnormal. People were still going about their day, working out, heading to the locker rooms to shower. A trainer stood off to the side talking to a parent and their teenage son, regular activities, but that feeling of discomfort wouldn't leave her.

"Nothing goes down over here." Every city had its rough areas, but even the lower income sections of Briton Beach were well kept and managed. The part of town they were in was supposed to be one of the safest, "We don't keep cash on hand, and people come here to train or workout. I could pay somebody to sit up front with Claudia, but what's the point?" To him, it was money that didn't need to be spent.

"Anything could happen. What exactly did Max tell you?" It couldn't be the same thing she'd told her.

"Basically to watch my back. She said Jalen sounded crazy and she wouldn't put it past him to do something stupid. I didn't want him trying to get to you or Tati. I gotta be sure y'all are cool. I'm good."

It wasn't that Nayeli thought he couldn't take care of himself. She knew of his capabilities, but what were his fists against a gun or a knife? Against someone blindsiding him? Crazy wasn't a word to take lightly, and when she thought back to seeing Jalen on her birthday, there were multiple red flags. Only a man that'd lost their mind would think she would accept a marriage proposal after calling the police to remove him from her property.

"I think I'd be more comfortable if you or someone around you was at least armed."

"I am. I've been licensed to carry for like eight years."

"Good." Hearing that made her feel a little better, but her stomach still hadn't settled. It was like the energy in the building was off. She thought she was just nervous about fixing things with Ezra, but maybe her body was trying to tell her something, "Do you and Princess want to come over tomorrow or Sunday? I have a bunch of garden chores to do, and we could make dinner together."

"I like the sound of that. She has a game at 10:30 if you wanna roll. We can make it a full day."

"Yeah! What sh-" Four consecutive gunshots followed by screaming and glass shattering cut off her sentence. Face ashen, Nayeli dropped to the ground and crawled to Ezra's desk.

"EVERYBODY GET THE FUCK OUT!" Someone shouted, firing off another two shots. Whether they were at someone or in the air, she wasn't sure. Her eyes were tightly shut, and part of Ezra's body covered hers as he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a gun, checking the magazine to make sure that it was loaded. "I know you're here, EJ. Let's have a conversation man to man!"

"That's Jalen," she whispered and gasped, recognizing his voice. More shots ensued, one of which went straight through the office window. Ezra pushed Nayeli closer to the ground and covered her.

"Get in the bathroom and don't move," he told her, handing her the gun; a heavy, all black 9 millimeter, and his phone, "You said you know how to shoot, right?"

"Yeah."

"Safety's right here. Don't open that door unless I say it's okay. Call the police, now."

"But-"

"Do what I said, Nayeli." There wasn't any room for a discussion. Ezra watched her slide herself across the floor to his private bathroom. The tile hurt her knees, but she shut the door. Some noises could be heard. No shots, thank God, but there was talking. She dialed 911 and relayed what was happening to the dispatcher. She told the woman where she was and got informed that there were officers already headed in her direction.

Nayeli was antsy on the floor. At any second, Ezra could be killed, and it would be her fault. Jalen was upset over her. He'd brought a gun there because of her, and what if she had the only other gun in the building? No, she couldn't stay put. Slowly, she opened the bathroom door and stayed low to the ground, moving to the window to get a view of the room and plan her next moves.

There weren't too many yards separating her past from her present and future. Mouths moved, and Jalen had a pistol aimed at Ezra's chest. She bit her tongue to keep herself from sobbing out loud, stuck the gun in the waistband of her jeans and rushed to the door.

"Jalen, don't, please." His eyes found hers, and she watched him falter for a few seconds, lowering the gun before he pointed it at her. He wouldn't shoot. He was trying to scare her away because he couldn't complete his desired task in front of her.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said, his hand beginning to shake. His face and clothes were dirty, skin greasy with neglect. His eyes were empty until he looked at her, now full of pain and dread, "I checked the parking lot more than once. Your car wasn't there."

"Why are you doing this?" Little steps brought her closer to him, but he didn't want her too close. He backed up, putting distance between him and Ezra, exactly as she wanted.

"My life is over. When I leave, I'm taking him with me."

"Your life is not over, but it will be if you pull that trigger." Nayeli did what she could to keep her voice calm, continuing her advance so he kept moving toward the door. The police had to be taking their sweet time as she couldn't hear any sirens heading their way.

"I have nothing left, Nye." Jalen's voice cracked, the shaking in his hand worsening.

"That's not true. You have sisters. You have a brother. You have a niece. You have your parents and friends."

"None of that shit matters!" he yelled, "None if this was supposed to happen! We were supposed to move, and everything would've been fine. I wanted to start a family with you, but he took you from me. It's a life for a life."

"He didn't take anything. I'm a person, not a toy, and I broke up with you because you lied to me. You would've continued lying to me had I not called you out for it. You showed me what I wanted out of life meant absolutely nothing to you when you ignored me for over a week because I dared to demand more commitment from you. I didn't even know Ezra's name at the time. Stop blaming him because it wasn't his fault. Life goes on. You'll find someone new to start a family with. Please, just put the gun down," Nayeli begged.

"No. It's you or no one." He adjusted his grip on the firearm, and the shaking in his hand subsided as he lifted it higher, over her head. At Ezra once again. She was running out of time and options. Reaching behind her, she grabbed the handle of Ezra's gun and prayed she wouldn't have to shoot another human being.

"Then you'll have to take me too," she said firmly, advancing once again. His concentration was broken, heart furthered shattered at her declaration. He lowered the gun until it was at his side.

"What?"

"If you want to shoot him, you're going through me first. I won't stand here and let it happen. So shoot and make it count because if anything happens to him and I'm still standing, you won't live to see the inside of a cell."

Jalen couldn't believe his eyes or his ears. Nayeli was the least violent person he knew, but she threatened his life without blinking. She'd never made a threat she didn't carry out, "You'd really take a bullet or kill me for him?"

"Are you willing to find out?" She started to lift the gun out of her waistband.

"Nayeli-" Ezra spoke for the first time since she'd come out of his office, and she quickly told him to be quiet. She had the situation under control.

"Tick tock. The police are already on their way," she said, a bold-face lie because several squad cars were pulling up and parking outside, sirens off but lights flashing as they all readied their weapons. Car doors opened, cops getting into position and clearing pedestrians that were being nosy or were unaware of what was happening.

Jalen could easily see that he was surrounded, death in one direction or another because jail wasn't an option he was willing to live with. An officer spoke to him through a microphone, telling him to come out with his hands up and palms facing forward.

"Close your eyes," he said to Nayeli, "I don't want you to see this."

She didn't trust that he wouldn't shoot Ezra the moment she did. She kept looking at him, watching as he walked to the door with the gun still his hand, finger touching the trigger. What he planned to do hit her a second too late.

"Ezra, get down!" she shouted as Jalen aimed his gun at the cops and fired.

#black fiction #black literature #black love #polyamory #romantic fiction #romance #love

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