#God I'm hurting because this is just making me that much more aware of how badly Ed is and WILL be hurting
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miwiheroes · 2 days ago
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Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5
Day 5: Byler parallels with Jopper and Lumax
Decided to combine Jopper and Lumax into one post because a lot of them are similar and would actually be more compelling if they were all combined, being that Jopper and Lumax are definitely endgame (they arent in any love triangles or anything)
So again, I'm gonna name the parallel and how intentional it may be. Even if it's not fully intentional as a complete parallel, this still counts as evidence because using the same tropes for Lumax and Jopper as Byler means that they are all romantic.
1. I Lost You
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The fact that Byler and Lumax's ones are in the same episode oh my god???? I honestly think this is intentional. While the 'I thought I lost you' thing is common in romantic tropes, to use it for three couples is very much insane and they must have noticed this. Putting the two in the same episode as well..... oh my god
2. Holding Hands
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I think that the fact its a parallel is not intentional, but hand holding is just very very common as a romantic trope. It's also the truth that they actually create a separate SHOT for each of these moments too, to signify their importance.
3. A Team
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(couldnt find a good screenshot with a caption for byler but there is alt text)
If you want two people to have believable chemistry, you make them work together well. It was never explicitly stated that Jancy were a good team, but you could tell. HOWEVER THIS IS JUST EXPLICIT they are spelling it out for u!!! Mike and El never really work together. They are a couple. But they aren't a team. They don't work together on plans, there's never any back and forth planning (like with byler in s3), and once again, it's never ever acknowledged by either of them that they work well together as a team.
4. On the Bus
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Both heart-to-heart scenes use this song behind it:
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Oh this is highly highly intentional. You do not just use romantic, TENDER EMOTIONAL music for one couple who are definitely romantic, and then put that in the background of a platonic scene. The creators are literally screaming at u guys here <3 THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ROMANTICCC HELLO
(also both these scenes end with them smiling at the other and they get interrupted by a noise before anything else can happen)
5. We have to kill it
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Sorry guys i totally forgot to include this one in the Jancy parallel post but literally fucking LOOK!! This is intentional to me because it is very specific, and if it's an accident that they all want to kill something and the other one agrees, then it still shows that these couples have chemistry because they are on the same page. AND one of them is reassuring the other, foreshadowing that they are gonna be a team in the next season.
Jancy are a team in season 2 after they have this convo in season 1, and Jopper are a team in season 3 after having this convo in season 2. So byler will be a team in season 5.
6. Staying in the Hospital
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Honestly this one's just cute, and recontextualises the fact that Mike peers over Will on the bed, and stays by him (even though it doesnt really need recontextualising). The fact that its very romantic and cute for Lumax to do it should mean the exact same thing for Mike to do it.
7. Looking longingly at someone who's pulling away
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erm this one is just so clear to me. Not exactly intentional but like- the thing with staring at someone longingly just to have them not look back at you is very slow burn romance. The fact that it's very obvious to ppl that Max is definitely aware of Lucas staring at her, but can't stare back because she's afraid to hurt him/ afraid to show her feelings again definitely parallels Mike too.
Also both Lucas and Max SIGH before going back to what they're doing...
8. TENDER EMOTIONAL MUSIC
so a tender emotional music scene for jopper makes it feel romantic:
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Sooooo.... doesn't that mean that it applies for byler too?? Who had it done to them not one, not two, but THREE TIMES IN SEASON 4???
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AND LUMAX HAS A SCENE WITH THIS TOO
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Thanks for reading yet another long ass post :))) The next ones probably going to be Rovickie parallels because they actually have so many after doing my research so yeah
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zhongrin · 2 days ago
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pssspspsps Rin rin I have an interesting question for you idk. Since you're my local yandere expert (?) what do you think yan!Boothill would be like? owo
hsdfhshdf i'm honored hello??? oh, hmmm.... let me think.... this is an interesting prompt.... 🧐 i haven't fully listened to his voicelines and read all of his stories, but from what i do know...
cw. yandere, possibly ooc boothill, gn!reader but mostly assumed you're an organic life
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.... i think the very core of yan!boothill would be that he's afraid of losing you and therefore wants to protect you at all cost, first and foremost.
mostly because of what he's experienced in the past (he's even worse if you and him have a child or if there's a child figure in the equation). i'd anchor on that vulnerability and make it a catalyst upon his exponentially overbearing behaviour.
i personally think he's not the kind of yandere who would ever hurt you physically. restraints, perhaps, but only when it's his last resort. he would be the type that treats you like glass... especially if you're an organic life of sorts (feels weird to describe it as that but hsr has intellitrons and sentient machines so yk). he's also more on the simple-minded sort, and he's in touch with his emotional side, too ー so i don't see him ever consciously try to play the mind games™️ with you. if anything, you should be able to somewhat manipulate him into allowing yourself some reprieve from his overbearing tendencies if you play your cards right.
due to his constitution, he's very much into skinship, and he makes sure to store the mapping of your body into his equivalent of SSDs, along with all the other important information about you. so don't ever think he wouldn't realize it if you get even the slightest bruise; he will. and he'll fuss about it until it's healed, no matter how much reassurance you give him.
and god forbid someone hurts you in front of him ー it doesn't matter where or when or who, doesn't matter if it's intentional or unintentional, they're getting a bullet to their vitals.
this man loves the feeling of your warm skin against his cold, metal chassis, but knowing that you can bleed and die drives him insane. i think, every time he cradles you close, he can't decide if the way your heart beats inside your body calms him or frightens him. the fragility of life haunts him, ever present at the back of his mind like a reaper's scythe ready to swing down, yet he can't help but feel drawn to you anyway.
another branch of possibility would be him putting you into some kind of machine or whateverthing that would last forever (perhaps portable too so he can bring you everywhere ᰔᩚ). but then again, i think he would only go down this path when he's absolutely cornered, like if he realizes he was about to lose you (e.g. you're dying right before his eyes and there's no saving you).
tldr, i think he would be a nice yandere to be stuck with, overall! just be aware that he's a wanted man, and you might end up being crammed into a supercomputer or some sort when you die, but hey, doesn't sound that bad, right? :3
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saltpepperbeard · 2 years ago
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so it’s no surprise that javid’s posts and potential teases make me take damage, but like...looking at the lyrics of walking on broken glass after he mentioned it?
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evilminji · 1 year ago
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You Know How There Are Those AU? Where SUPER Injured Ghosts Need To Retreat To Their Core?
No one seems to be USING that to its fullest potential! For SHENANIGANS! Because! Who?? Could POSSIBLY carry a Halfa's Core safely... but another Halfa?! A FULL ghost would KILL them. A human would be killed! What terribly precarious peril we find ourselves in! Oh nooooooo!
Well, no worry!
As much as Dani fuckin HATES this. That there is her brother. Her Template. Her Clone Daddy and Bestest of Bros. Like HECK she's gonna let him suffer for centuries and possibly DIE. She can take it, Doc! Pop him in! We'll go road tripping and-
What do you MEAN "No"?
Unstable??! Of course she's unstable! But the-.... Oh.
Turns OUT? Dani? Can hitch a ride in DANNY for Emergency Medical Aid... but NOT the other way around. Her body is too loosely held together. He would parasiticly consume her from within. Instead of feeding off her Ecto System like injured ghosts are supposed too, because she's a CLONE? AND an unstable one at that? His Core would just... see her body as free ectoplasm. All of it.
He'd eat her.
Which mean Frostbite can not and WILL NOT allow that.
But he's HURT! That big, off screen, cataclysmic Fight To Save Everybody From *cough cough mumbles* and settle us all in the DC universe, REALLY messed him up! What are we supposed to DO!? He can't STAY like this!!!
Enter-> My FAVORITE DCxDP Trash Ship! Vlad&Lex!!! *horrified screaming from the crowds, someone shouts "oh god, no! Please!"* Ha! There are no gods here, silly billys! Only two terrible, terrible HIGHLY Dramatic, self serving, incredibly damaged, gay peacocks. In Business Suits that cost more then your house is worth.
They're AWFUL~♡
And! Vlad was sent ahead to lay the ground work. Insure there would be no GIWs. Also because no one could stand him and his EXTENSIVE criminal record. But that's besides the point.
But!
You know what he found? A Business Nemesis. Who he routinely dates and/or Dramatically Hate Fu-*coughs* I mean, attempts a Corporate Take Over(tm) off. You know how it is. Business. He ALSO gets to make it no secret he's a "Meta", thanks to the INCOMPETENCE of one Jack Fenton, because that- *seething rant*
Yet? Dispite his STILL burning hatred for Jack? And his finally letting go of Maddie? You know what he STILL wants?
For Danny to be his Son.
*Gets a call from Frostbite*
...............soooooo........ what you're SAYING is..... I can be pregnant with Daniel.
You, Frostbite, need ME, Vladimir Masters, THE ONLY OTHER HALFA, to carry Daniel around inside my body, in what to all appearances resembles a pregnancy, in order to heal him. Because I am an Older And Stronger Halfa Upon Which He Relies.
:)
*instantly begins plotting*
Just? Imagine. Vlad is a FUCKIN LIAR. No one but him would even KNOW what was going on! He just? Rocks up one day, like? *falsely demure* "oh I couldn't POSSIBLY has any scotch, Lex! >:) I'm eating for Two~☆" and just? Deals the MAXIMUM amount of psychic damage he can.
Probably says it at their weekly, public, Veiled Threats Brunch.
It makes front page news. Luthor choked on his eggs. The paparazzi lost their SHIT. Vlad is doing the FULL Celebrity Mom Thing. The classes. The photo shoots. The Gucci sunglasses as he peruses high end strollers. All while HEAVILY suggesting that not only is "The Baby" Lex's.... but that he's going to withhold the child and deny Lex any access.
Danny isn't even aware. He's in a lovely lil medical coma. Dani is trying to find a good spot to plop down Amity. She just know Vlad is being... Vlad. Meh. He can handle it. Dan? He's not even IN the human realm and is not sure he wants to be.
But over in the LEAGUE? Everything's on fuckin FIRE.
Kon is losing his SHIT and Clark is thousand yard staring into the void. Kon's half brother is in the hands of a... Less Then Ideal... Meta that Batman is PRETTY sure is highly suspect. Might be a deliberate weapons experiment. Certainly is a hostage. And the DRAMA.
Lex has never been worse.
He might actually stab his...partner? Vlad. At the hospital. The SECOND the child is born. There are already long term kidnapping plans in the making. He's hiring lawyers. Getting VICIOUS. There have been talks with DEATHSTROKE. By BOTH OF THEM.
Clark wants to cry.
@hypewinter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @babbling-babull
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daenysx · 7 months ago
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Hey darling, I have a requests for Aemond if you still writing for him. I just want when he has so much pain because of anything(maybe he's tired of family pressure) and he just need his darling's arms.
thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy! you can send requests for aemond or aegon now that the show is back <333
prince aemond targaryen x fem!reader
you can see vhagar's wings if you squint your eyes enough.
aemond is restless these days, he is angry and resentful. his anger has never been directed to you but the peace in your shared chambers decreases day by day. you frown, not knowing what to do to make it all better. vhagar flies closer to the keep and you watch her. you can almost imagine how aemond looks on top of her; sad, disappointed in himself, angry, vengeful. your husband is far from being okay.
you settle down on the bed, the thin fabric of your nightgown does nothing to protect you from the night air's chill. you prefer keeping windows open though. each breath of fresh air is needed in here.
almost half an hour later, aemond returns to you. he smells like dragon and something unique to him, you've grown fond of his scent long time ago since you got married to him. he closes the door, takes a few slow steps into the chamber. you leave the bed to greet him.
"husband." you say lowly. he looks calm. flying on vhagar works like a charm most of the time, he gets to relieve some of his tension to the clouds. he looks at you with a tired eye, a graceful hand of his extended to you.
you accept his touch almost greedily. it's always easier with him, to deal with everything. you've never imagined you'd be a part of a war one day but life is tricky. there are too many reasons to be afraid of each minute that goes by, but aemond makes them all bearable. he's protective, even more so now. you like how he stands tall and charming, like a statue to protect you from all the darkness. he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you closer, close enough to put his head on your shoulder.
your hand goes to his hair. the lovely silver strands messed up by wind. you fix them, fingertips touching his scalp. he breathes heavily, his hands on your waist are insistent. he begs silently. he begs for the pain to go away. only for one night.
aemond pulls himself back with a sigh. he takes off his eyepatch, starts opening the buttons of his riding clothes. his fingers are cruel on his own skin, he doesn't care if he hurts himself. you hold his hands when he roughly pulls the fabric. his hands slow down in your palms, staying still like he's done something wrong. you bring each hand on your lips. they are shaking with hate. you look at your husband to see his eye get all glossy under the light of fire. his arms stay on his sides.
"let me help." you say gently. he sits on bed as you take care of him. he will not bathe tonight, you know, he only wants to be free of the fabrics he carries on him. the eyepatch, the clothes. all of them pulls him down.
when he's finally bare, he gets into the bed. you adjust your pillows to see his face better. the little distance between you is too much for aemond to bear. he puts his head on your shoulder.
"they all say the same thing." he says. you wouldn't hear his silent words but his mouth is close to your ear. you hold his naked body as he keeps going. "same thing. every day. as if i'm a fool who forgot what he's done."
he made many mistakes. mistakes are the nature of a war; thinking back with regret and pain, wishing to take the time back, holding grudge to gods and faith for not stopping the unfair crimes. aemond is too self aware these days thanks to the people he has to call family. they are masters to answer each sentence of him with his war crime. he thinks it's fair sometimes, he has to be punished in a way. he pushes his head closer to your neck to settle down, it's too much for a man to deal with.
"i'm sorry." you say. there's nothing more to say, he knows you try your hardest to forgive him for his crimes each day. you're mostly successful, your love for aemond is blinding. he kisses your neck slowly, curved lips leave a mark on your skin.
"i never wanted this." he says, regret drips from his voice. "i never wanted a power i cannot control."
"it's a dragon, my love." you reason. "no matter what your intentions are, you cannot make her agree with you every time."
"i only wanted-" he takes a breath. "i don't even know what i wanted. i thought the bond between us was stronger, with vhagar."
he doubts himself. it's dangerous to doubt the bond between a dragon and her rider in the middle of a war. aemond is a reasonable man when he's not mad but even he's having hard time facing with the consequences of his actions. he used to brag fiercely, the rider of the largest dragon in the world. now, he questions his worth more often, like he's a boy hiding behind his mother's skirt.
you kiss his forehead, his head must be hurting under all this worry. what feels worse now, accidentally killing the nephew who took his eye years ago, or doubting everything that made him aemond targaryen? he knows there are things he should understand, he's just not brave enough to face them.
because now, he's in your arms. the only place besides the sky that gives him comfort. being in the same bed with you is better than flying sometimes, he's free here. you offer every bit of relieve you can to him, he takes what you're willing to give. every kiss, every touch, every valyrian word you learn to prove him you love him, every minute you spend with his wounds and his troubles. he can't lose you. he has nothing in this world if he loses you.
you kiss him again, for your sake more than aemond's. when you're together you don't have to worry about him. you know he's safe and secure, you know if anything happens he'll be your guard. kisses are a way of communication now, a way of comfort. he closes his eye when your lips connect with his skin. he could spent his life here if he wasn't be a man who's hungry for power and vengeance.
he thinks the fire is easy. it's so easy to burn everything when he has vhagar. he doesn't look back, he doesn't deal with the places he burned. he has the blood of a dragon, he becomes one with vhagar when he whispers words to her. he knows he'd burned down the city if he loses you. he wouldn't look back. there are too many people disappointed in him already. if he loses the only one who holds him together, he'd have nothing.
aemond kisses you softly. he stops breathing when his lips are pressed against yours. he feels like a tamed dragon if there's such a thing. you stroke his cheek, push his hair back from his face. he is hungry for touch and you give him what he craves until he falls asleep against your neck. he holds onto the one person who keeps him sane until the sun shows itself.
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secriden · 19 days ago
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This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.
It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:
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At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:
Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.
In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:
Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?
Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.
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I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:
Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.
Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.
Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.
And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.
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Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.
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Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.
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I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.
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I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.
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And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.
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Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.
It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.
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So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.
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He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.
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And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).
So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.
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What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.
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Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.
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When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:
Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.
This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.
I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.
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But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.
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And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.
Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.
Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.
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And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.
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seriouslygoodomens · 1 month ago
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Alright I'm back. Bare with me please.
We NEEEED to be talking about this.
When Aziraphale and Crowley have their first big on screen fight/break up(how ever you want to view it) we see Crowley start yelling about how he hates the "great plan" and Aziraphale goes on to say "may he be forgiven" this leads on to Crowley having a bit of a sad rant as below, even going as far as saying "i will never be forgiven, not ever. Remember, this is the Crowley that said "I didn't even mean to fall, I just hung around the wrong people"
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Now what I want to add to this is how absolutely devastated Crowley sounds after this fight and how absolutely torn Aziraphale looks.
(Excuse my poor video, I couldn't find the scene online)
My rant doesn't stop there, no, no. I have more!
The ONE thing Crowley plays into is the "I'm a demon I'm not nice or worthy of forgiveness." And I think Aziraphale is aware of that.
1. He never gets mad when Crowley pulls the "I'm not nice" cranky pants act
2. He didn't even flinch when Crowley shoved him against the wall in the first seasons(but that could be for different reasons 😉)
3. He never, assumes Crowley is behind the wrong doing until Crowley says something dumb like "I got a commendation" regarding the French head cutting. He has learned over the years that what Crowley makes "evil" is usually not something truly bad like the whole bullets instead of paint but no one actually got hurt.
Aziraphale loves Crowley so much but he can't say it because they are always being watched. So you know what he uses instead? I FORGIVE YOU. We see it twice in the series. Aziraphale understand that Crowley thinks he will never be forgiven and that being a demon, he isn't worthy of anyone's forgiveness. So Aziraphale makes sure Crowley knows rhat he is worthy and that he cares so much about Crowley that even God herself won't forgive him, at least Aziraphale has. Aziraphale uses it as his I love you because in a way, it means so much more to them.
Here is the first "I forgive you"
Crowley is pouring his heart out trying to protect Aziraphale and get him to run away with him. He even tells Aziraphale how clever he is, granted he also called him stupid. This is another moment where Crowley is really trying to explain to Az how much he cares about him. Yes there is a LOT of miscommunication here because Aziraphale doesn't want to leave earth. He wants Crowley but he doesn't want to leave. He wants to fight for what is right. Crowley just wants to protect Azirphale and himself. He wants them to have peace together. The do argue and you can see Az is hurt again but instead of breaking things off like earlier, he says "I forgive you" which we can all agree doesn't just mean he forgives Crowley for being rude, he is forgiving so much
. The rude comments
. Lack of trust
. Showing he is worth forgiveness even with such a rushed apology.
Crowley could have left! By all means he should have but he could not abandon his Angel. There is nothing Crowley fears more than losing his Angel. He knew hell was coming for him, he knew they would destroy him for such a huge mistake but he stayed because his Angel is worth risking his life for. His Angel who forgives him time and time again for having to be a "demon" and put on the act. The Angel that has been by his side for thousands of years, just them against all else. Of course he stayed, and do we blame him?
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Now let's move onto the second "I forgive you" scene and boy, there is a LOOOOOT to unpack there.
I'm not going into the last 15 because there is SOOO many posts that accurately portray the meaning behind BOTH of their song and dance. Especially Aziraphale's side. So I'm just going to cover that last scene in the shop together.
. Aziraphale knows they are being watched, just like season 1 all over again. The threat is much great this time, though, it's the actual Metatron
. When he first came into the shop, he KNEW what Crowley was going to say by the first words and Az even said "I know we ought be talking about..." he then looked outside and the scene continued. The whole time he keeps glancing outside!!
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. When Crowley kisses him, you see Az lose himself in it. He leans in and holds him, ever so briefly before remembering they are being watched. The kiss is all they have ever wanted but it's the wrong time as they are being watched. Just watch him grab his back and straighten slightly
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. The first place Az looks after the kiss is outside to the Metabastard. Crowley never once follows his eyes though, would it have been different if he did?
. That man is broken! He loves Crowley beyond words, beyond books and would risk everything for him, that's what he is doing to protect him right now in this scene. As stated in one of the flash backs in season one "I can't have you risking your life, not even for something dangerous" which means Crowleys life is more important to him than getting into trouble with the other angels.
. If your volume is up super high(we had a loud thunderstorm) you will hear "I..... Lo..... I forgive you" now you might think I'm hearing things but I'm not. If you slow the scene down and watch Aziraphale's mouth and tongue placement he IS saying the letter L not F. He couldn't possibly say I love you infront of metatron though, could you imagine what would happen? So he says I forgive you. It's the only way he could safely say "I Love You" without making the whole thing with Metadickhead worse.
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. He grabs his lip and presses into it replicating the kiss! This doesn't add much to my rant, just thought it was super cute because it shows how much he enjoyed it and knows that he won't feel that again for a very long time, if ever.
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shadyr4m · 1 month ago
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REWATCHING SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 OF ARCANE
+ some of my highlights and notable moments that I enjoyed bc people can’t understand media anymore
This is mostly an infodump of stuff I can fit into a twitter thread/didn't rly want to make into a thread. I'm not great at words so I apologize in advance, I am sure there are many people much better at analysis than I.
I want to start off by saying I am heavily invested in timebomb so this is very much going to be a ship analysis. If you're looking for someone unbiased i am very much not the person for that 😭
FIRST OFF:
The disc on the music box is adorable!!! It features au Powder (who I am going to refer to as just Powder for the duration of my analysis) and au Ekko
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Compared to the normal Disc
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This is very obviously because it takes place in a different universe, one without Vi or "Jinx".
The first scene starts off with AU Ekko writing in his notebook. (Cute mention is Powder's doodle in his notebook!!) Then we see flashes of the wild rune. This is when AU Ekko switches to canon Ekko.
Also one of my favorite silly images from this episode is this one.. Powder is being so adorable and Ekko is just scared out of his MIND. it's so silly.
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In the Last drop, Powder asks Ekko. "What is up with you? You've been out of it all day?". One thing I noticed in my rewatch is that i think Powder is aware this Ekko isn't HER Ekko. This is just one instance of many that makes me think this.
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This hideout seems so much more vibrant and loved, similar to Jinx's hideout after Isha. It's colorful. There are guard rails that I like to think was pushed by Vander. We can see Ekko's art scattered around. It just shows how much more support and family Powder has compared to Jinx, which i mention a lot.
Id also like to note Ekko being shocked au him went to powder for help. In his mind at this time he believes Jinx to be all that is left, no more Powder. Through out the episode we see that change.
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Notice how Powder gets upset at Ekko in this scene. However, she doesn't react explosively like Jinx would've. She handled it in a way that shows she had support. She told him to leave instead. Again, the main difference between Powder and Jinx isn't only Vi but also the existence of multiple support systems that Jinx simply didn't have.
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THIS FLASHBACK! Oh my god this flashback. The fact it happened after he upset Powder? I think it shows just how much he truly cares about Jinx/Powder. He remembers VIVIDLY the day that he thought he killed her. Jinx was his childhood best friend, and I don't think that kind of feeling ever truly goes away. He doesn't want to hurt any version of her, not even the alternate universe her. We see that showcased more later on. Also, random probably insane note. He is interrupted by small children playing, having fun. This isn't a coincidence, it shows he does miss the moments from when they were kids.
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While talking with Heimerdinger, we see Ekko look at Powder multiple times. Watching her laugh and be expressive, he smiles. When she doesn't return it we see him get upset. Once more this brings me to my point that he doesn't want to hurt her. Considering he hasn't known this Powder very long you can see where I gather my point that he doesn't want to hurt her in GENERAL. Any version of her.
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THIS SCENE!! He is such a bad liar it's adorable. This brings me to my earlier point, Powder knows what's up!! She suspects something 100%. He is talking about this dream her like it was real.
"You aren't the kind of person who helps other people with their projects. Your ideas change the world. I can't shake the feeling that that's who you're supposed to be."
Are you LISTENING TO THIS? He is obviously talking about Jinx. You can tell this by the first sentence because obviously Powder IS that kind of person. He's starting to see that Jinx is just a part of Powder, one that is unavoidable and that he unknowingly appreciates in a sense. Like two sides of one coin he can't see Powder without Jinx and that is good. I think it is here he realizes truly just how much he cares about Jinx.
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This whole montage is beautiful but I want to zero in on two things. Powder's reaction to the notebook and how she looks at Ekko after. NOW THIS. This is the nail in the coffin for her. She knows that this is not her Ekko. She has fully gathered that he isn't from this universe.
Also heimerdinger totally knows how Ekko feels you cannot tell me otherwise. Pushing him to go to the party? yeah he knows what you are.
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THIS WHOLE SCENE. I AM NOT ANALYZING THE WHOLE THING HERE BUT IT IS GORGEOUS. I saw someone talking about how it was animated on 4's to signify the way Ekko can only go back 4 seconds and I honestly shed a tear. THE SONG TOO? I encourage everyone to look at the lyrics because they're beautiful.
Okay now for my favorite part of this episode so much to dissect and i'm totally going to mansplain but yk..
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"I used to dream the undercity could be like this" — That sets the tone for the whole conversation and just what world he is talking about. The canon one.
"But somewhere, I got consumed by all the ways it wasn't. I gave up on it. Gave up on YOU." — Heavy emphasis on this line. Once more he is talking about Jinx. He is talking about how he got so consumed by the way that Jinx wasn't good, and he gave up on her. Believed she was irredeemable. Powder showed him that Jinx is capable of love and happiness, it's just under that tough protective shell. The undercity in the metaphor is Jinx, from my interpretation.
"I promise i'll never forget this." — Now time for my insanity. He doesn't forget this. That's why he saves Jinx from ending her life in the first place. He remembers Powder and knows that with the right support Jinx doesn't have to be the way she is. It's not that she "needs to be fixed" she just needs to be LOVED, like Powder. He sees that now. He sees how in the au the love that everyone shares for one another shaped the undercity beautifully, and made everyone in it much healthier mentally despite going through hardships. That is beautiful. People with mental illness are not unlovable they just need more support, it can't be cured, or fixed just healed. Mental illness is always there it is how you DEAL with it that matters.
Nothing too major to talk about with the kiss. It's sweet I love it, but nothing too notable for me to say about it.
Finally, Ekko leaves the au. I have seen people say that this is a sacrifice, he could've had everything he wanted and he gave it up to save the people at home. But i take insanity to another level. I see this as him appreciating his home. He knows he can never truly love this Powder because she isn't the version he fell in love with. He learned to appreciate Jinx even through her flaws, and that while this world has everything he could want and more he can have that home too.
I am experiencing HEAVY timebomb brainrot if you can’t already tell. I was tired of people taking things in the complete wrong way with this episode, if anyone has different views pls tell me I love hearing how other people took certain scenes. there are a few scenes I love but I would’ve made this post way too long..
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moonystoes · 6 months ago
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Wrong Number - Elisa De Almeida
Summary: When Elisa sends a picture to the girl she was flirting with at the club...except it wasn't the right number.
Warning: ...there is a picture here loll.
A/n: I'm so sorry but this is by far the worst fic I've written, I've tried to do something new and I'm not so confident about it. I still wanted you guys to read it and all the support from the anonymous asks helped me a lot. Thank you!
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This picture is NOT Elisa, it is from @/torinha___ on instagram
The loud music was almost making Elisa dizzy. She gave a small nod to Jackie, pointing to the club seats and tip toeing there to make sure she won't bump into anyone. Elisa didn't want to admit it, but she knew she drank too much than she should've. The squad decided to go and celebrate their win against bayern Munich at a fancy bar in the south of Paris, but they completely forgot about their early afternoon training the next day.
Sakina was the only sober one, restricting alcohol from her diet because of her faith. And even if Islam permitted drinking, she'd still refuse. She loves being in control and aware of her surrounding environments, and if she gets drunk she'd lose all of the power.
Elisa awkwardly bumped into Sakina's shoulder, giving her a soft wave before settling down next to her, "oh my God we are so done for tomorrow, he will kill us."
"He will kill you, not us," she reminded Elisa, "it's okay, just stop drinking or else you'll make tomorrow worse."
"Yeah thanks Saki," Elisa gave Sakina a weak thumbs up as she twisted her body to the table, "I'll just drink water from now on."
Sakina patted Elisa's back as she turned to glance at the other girls. She hates the smell of sweat and drinks, but she loves hanging out with the girls. She can see Jackie and Eva dancing, as well as Clare twirling around... obviously too drunk to even care about how crazy she looks.
When she turned to her left, she noticed a woman staring at Elisa. She wasn't sure if she should let Elisa know about it, or just stay quiet and see if the woman will do anything. But she saw her take quick steps towards the both of them, and that caused Sakina to panic and turn the other way.
"Hey," a sultry voice hit Elisa's ear, feeling a hand squeeze her shoulder. She turned around to see who it was, and she was stunned for a minute by the beauty of the woman.
It's been a while since Elisa had gotten the attention of a girl that way. Even though she's been getting popular on social media, it feels as though her dating life has disappeared. Her last relationship ended because of the distance (her moving from montpellier to psg), and even that relationship was short anyways and ended awfully.
And when she tried dating apps, it seems as though her dates never work. Awkwardness fills both sides, and they ultimately end up ghosting each other. For a second, she tried convincing herself that it's for the best...so she can focus on football only. But now she is getting a little humiliated by all of this. Even her teammates make jokes about it (Eva laughed after Elisa opened up about her dating history, then proceeded to say she has '0 rizz').
She glanced back to the glass of water in front of her, then back to the woman in front of her. Maybe she should try this one more time, it won't hurt anyone...besides, everyone is drunk and if she embarrassed herself she'd probably forget about it anyways.
"Hey sweetheart," she smiled back, as she chugged the cold water, hoping it will make her sound less drunk than she is.
But when she glanced back at the stranger, she noticed her face was in complete shock, "oh my God, you're a girl?!"
"Haha...yeah, does that bother you?" Elisa gets this a lot in situations like this. In pure daylight, it's obvious she's just a masculine woman. But in dark clubs filled with drunk people, some visions get blurred. She just hoped that the women that try and flirt with her are actually attracted to women.
"Oh...no it doesn't," she gave a soft smile, her hand softly moving from Elisa's shoulder to the nape of her neck, delicately squeezing the tough muscle in there, "I just didn't know you were a girl and your voice caught me off guard."
Sakina was glaring at the stranger, having to see Elisa fall into the same trap everytime. She knew Elisa was desperate for some love (she does get laid apparently...well, that's what she tells Sakina), and this causes her to end up being in sticky situations with many straight women.
"My name is Sophie by the way," she raised her little champagne cup to Elisa, stepping closer to her to the point where her body was between Elisa's legs.
"Hey Sophie, I'm Elisa," She grinned at her with a wink, she lifted her right hand and placed it on Sophie's waist, "no work tomorrow?"
"Ew don't bring work here I'm trying to escape it," she fake gagged, placing the champagne glass on the table and placing her other hand on Elisa's thigh.
Usually, Elisa would freak out by the amount of physical touches she's getting. Especially by someone who she met not even a minute ago, but Sophie was an attractive woman...and that made her lose all the self respect she had and allowed her to do whatever she wants to her body.
She giggled at what she said, "Yeah me too."
"Your muscles are great, I've never seen a woman like that before," Sophie looked down as she tapped Elisa's tough quads, making sure that they're real.
Yeah because you haven't seen women in the first place,
Sakina thought as her blood started boiling, maybe she was being too much. Maybe Sophie was actually not straight and Sakina had been a bitch this whole time. But it doesn't matter, what matters is that Elisa is definitely too drunk to actually thinking appropriately.
"Yeah?" Elisa smirked at Sophie, she lifted up her sleeve and flexed her bicep, looking at Sophie's dropped jaw.
"Oh wow, that's the hottest thing I've ever seen."
Elisa burst out laughing, she knew if she can continue with the flirting she can possibly end up in a bedroom. The way Sophie was approaching her was definitely strange, but she did love the attention. And anyone who compliments her hard work in the gym makes her feel confident and cocky.
Sakina was grabbing her head with both of her hands, she wanted to pull Sophie away and drag Elisa home. She glanced up to check up on Jackie, Eva, and Clare. And she saw them cleaning up the little table they were using.
Alhumdulillah, Sakina thanked god realizing that she will be driving them home now.
"Psst, Elisa we're going now." She tapped Elisa on the shoulder, making sure she won't touch Sophie's clingy hand.
Elisa glanced back to Sophie with an evident pout, "sorry, I gotta go...can I get your number? we can finish the conversation there."
Her hand kept delicately squeezing Sophie's waist, waiting for a response from her. Sexting wasn't something she did, but she had some experience with from the long distance relationship that didn't last 2 months.
Sophia stood there slightly speechless, contemplating whether she should actually give out her phone number to Elisa, or run away from this embarrassing day.
"Okay, give me your phone and I'll type it."
Unknown Number
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This is how it looked under the shirt 😉
You huffed as you stared at the 11:59 on your computer screen. Working is always exhausting, but the paycheck makes it enjoyable. Your eyes were slightly burning from staying on the computer for too long, and it makes you feel way older than you knew you are. You were hoping time would move quickly so you can start your lunch, but a sudden ding came from your phone.
You glanced at Jasmine, your coworker, as she gave you a shrug, "check your phone, I don't think anyone will care. I mean lunch is gonna start in 29 seconds...no 28...no actually 27."
You sighed as you pulled your phone out from your purse, but froze when you saw a notification from an unknown number. You rarely get these texts, especially after the cybersecurity course you took that left you traumatized. But something from this made you curious, for sure now as an adult you can think maturely when texting strangers. Maybe it's an important message or someone who needs help.
You pressed on the notification, and gasped. Turning off off your phone, you stared back at computer screen, moving the mouse around making sure you finish your job.
"Damn you really wanna finish all 60 seconds. 16...15...14." Jasmine laughed at your nonchalant face.
You frustratingly pulled you phone back, reading the texts again. You are an adult now! You can tell them off. What if they're a hacker and they'll get into your personal data and leak all of your pictures? You glanced back at the picture as your face flushed, damn even if it's gross and weird to send strangers pictures like this...you were guilty for finding whoever this person may be attractive.
Maybe they accidentally sent it to the wrong number,
??
This is Elisa from the club last night haha
Elisa? That's a girl name right? You closed your eyes, now you're definitely guilty for finding her attractive. You were so single that a nude picture from a random masculine woman is making your face turn red. You looked back at the picture, not knowing how to respond.
Wrong number
I didn't go to a club last night
Sorry x
I'm pretty sure the person would've loved that picture though
Seen 4 minutes ago
Elisa screeched as she saw those texts, throwing the phone away in the locker room. Sakina turned around horrified from the scream, "Eli, what's wrong!"
"Saki kill me," she dropped her face into her hands as she lightly sobbed. Her right leg was twitching up and down as she sat down on one of the locker room seats.
Sakina placed her hair brush in her locker as she sighed from Elisa's dramatic behavior, "oh come on...what did you do?" But when she turned to look at Elisa, her dameanor turned serious. Elisa's face was bright red, eyes filled with tears and eyebrows furrowed.
She stepped towards Elisa worriedly, looking at Elisa's phone laying on the ground. She walked towards her phone, trying to see what even happened.
"No!" Elisa jumped up and grabbed her phone, hiding it into her chest, "Saki I made a stupid mistake."
"You're scaring me, just tell me what you did." Sakin came closer to Elisa, pushing her back into sitting.
"Do you remember Sophie from yesterday?" Elisa guiltily looked down as she whispered to Sakina.
Sakina rolled her eyes, "yes...I do remember her."
Elisa sighed again, this time in frustration and humiliation, "well...I guess she gave me a fake number," she looked back at Sakina's angry face, but right when she was about to response, Elisa interrupted her, "Sakina I sent a naked picture to some random girl...or worse, fuck that could be a man!"
Sakina's jaw dropped to the ground as she heard what Elisa did, but Elisa interrupted her again, "please don't lecture me about it. I know, I swear I know."
She gave Elisa a tight smile, pulling her in a hug to comfort her, "it could be a girl, and she could be cute and sweet and would actually like you. Maybe God made this a chance for you to find your one."
Elisa took a deep breath, trying to calm down her beating heart. It's not the end of the world, she can just block that number and pretend this never happened, or she could try and talk to the stranger. Maybe sakina was right, "Yeah...you're right. I should put my trust on God for this one, and if it was a 60 year old man I will blame it on him."
Sakina slapped Elisa's shoulder sarcastically, "actually you're the one who decided to send a nude picture to a random person...maybe you're the one to blame here," Elisa covered her face again with her hands, raising her face to the sky as she was mumbling some prayer, "Besides...can I see what you sent her?" Sakina winked as she tried to take Elisa's phone, now placed between Elisa's thighs.
Elisa opened her phone and showed her the texts, but Sakina's loud laughter made her shut it down and turn away from her, "God you're so bad at texting...what type of opening is that? I think she's a girl, a guy won't text that way right?"
Elisa shrugged, opening her phone again and tapping on the chat to text. It could be a girl right? It has to be, or else she will kill herself and disappear.
What if she's a fan and leaks the picture? A thousand thoughts were in her mind, so she decided to just text the stranger a small apology.
Omg
I'm so sorry
I should've sent a message first
I'm gonna kill myself 😭😭
Haha, no it's okay!
At least it's not a 😼 picture
And you have a great back!
That's a girl... definitely, right? Elisa blushed at the compliment, hiding her face away from Sakina not wanting another lecture.
Thanks
Sorry for bothering you I'm pretty sure you didn't want to see this on a Tuesday afternoon
I'm just glad it's lunch break now
Also sorry about the whole wrong number thing I'm pretty sure you're bummed about it
Yeah I thought we were getting along pretty well
I'm just confused on why she gave me a wrong number
She was the one who approached me
:((( well at least you made my lunch break better
Oh yeah?
I'm glad
Wait you're working right? Not a student 💀💀
Lollll yeah I'm 25
What about u?
26
What kind of work do you do?
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My desk :((
I'm a financial analyst
That sounds way fancier than it it I swear
Seen a minute ago
"Elisa what are you smiling about?" Sakina turned around suspiciously, now her hair braided.
"Oh nothing," she shrugged sakina off, turning away so Sakina can't see her face. But she sighed loudly, realizing that she needed Sakina's advice, "she's definitely a girl. And around my age, that's good, right?"
Before Sakina could leave the locker room, she stood at the door and softly said, "be safe Elisa...and no more nude pics to her, please."
Elisa huffed out in embarrassment and nodded, glancing back at her phone to text you back.
Oh wow we're sending pics now?
Why is it sad 😔
Babe you already did send pics
I tried decorating it but I gave up in a day
Oh yeah
Haha
Sorry again
Can I get a face pic :)
Only if you do
No way
Why not ☹️☹️
Cuz I just started texting you
But why do I have to
Ma'am you just sent me a picture of your bare back
I promise a face picture is nothing compared to that
😭😭😭
Ohh god
you're never gonna forget that
You don't have to
I just wanna match a face to the body ;)
"Fuck." Elisa whispered, you were good at convincing and she knew that if you asked her for another nude picture her nïave self would have sent one again.
She looked up to the sky and closed her eyes, "please don't make her some old man that's lying."
There was also a small feeling of anxiety in her, she knew that if things got awkward she can immediately block you and move on. But what if you recognize her? Would you leak that photo to the internet? She groaned out and responded, women's football isn't even that big anyways.
Okay
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Is this from today?
No yesterday
Seen 2 minutes ago
You bit your lip, turning your seat away from Jasmine not ready for the questionnaire she'll make if she sees you like this.
Elisa is beautiful. No...she's hot and sexy and all of those words combined. You slowly faced Jasmine again, "Hey Jasmine... I need an advice."
Jasmine stopped drinking her hot tea as she glimpsed at you, "what for?"
You whined loudly as you threw your phone towards her, "this unknown number sent me a message accidentally, but turns out she's a hot girl."
Jasmine choked on her drink when she saw the selfie Elisa sent, "Oh my God! Oh my God y/n, do not fuck this up!"
You stared at her stunned, "so...you're not worried about how unsafe this is?"
Jasmine zoned out to think, but she glanced back at you, "well...don't give her personal information, and try to find more about her," she returned your phone back to you, "Ugh...smash. I can't believe how lucky you got...wait! You can put her picture on pinterest or Google search and it will tell you if she's catfishing you!"
You turned to look at the picture on your phone again, you knew Jasmine was right about that hack. But you didn't want to keep Elisa waiting. For some reason, there is a feeling in you that this isn't some random person catfishing...that Elisa is real.
You look really tan here
And cute
Elisa let out a small giggle at the cute comment. What if she means cute as in a friendly way, not attractive cute? Ughhhh everything is frustrating!
I get tan a lot for my job
And sweaty
Oh?
Why am I getting worried 😭
What do you mean sweaty
I will support you no matter what elisa
You're so dirty minded
I'm just an athlete
That's it
So naughty
Seen 2 minutes ago
"Ugh!" You shut your phone off and placed your head on your desk exhaustedly, "she said 'so naughty'... that's awful."
Jasmine cackled loudly at what you said, "if it was a guy it would be cringe. But it's not, so it's hot."
--
Elisa sent that message while standing on her tippy toes. She knew that her flirting skills are below average. She was staring at the screen hoping for a small message, but Eva came into the room making Elisa freak out and throw her phone in the locker.
"Hey Elisa, everything okay?" She worriedly glanced at her as she brought out her phone, "I'm gonna go and film a tiktok with Jackie. You should go to the gym room or else you'd get in trouble."
Elisa stopped 'adjusting' her hair in the mirror and nodded to Eva, "oh yeah... I go there in a minute."
Eva laughed at Elisa's accent and tapped her shoulder as she left the room. Elisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, until she heard a small ding from her phone.
Sorry lunch break is over
You're the one who sent me a nude pic
OH MY GOD PLEASE STOP
I have to go training now anyways
Talk to you later
Stranger
Bye bye Elisa
Have fun xx
It was 3 pm when you waved goodbye to your coworkers, exhausted and ready to go home. You were thinking about Elisa, you knew you had to quick search that picture to make sure you weren't getting fooled.
Once you reached your little studio apartment, throwing your bag on your couch and laying there. You weren't expecting anything when you went on pinterest and placed her selfie on quick search. But to your surprise, the same selfie was on there too.
You instantly sat up on your couch, no way... I'm actually getting catfished. You tapped on the post and saw the name 'Elisa de Almeida' as the caption.
Is that her full name?
Guilt was consuming your heart, you felt as though you were 'cheating' for searching her name on Google instead of just asking her.
Whatever, you'll search later. You will just text her and get to know her that way.
You do training for what?
You turned off your phone and went to the kitchen to make a quick lunch meal, not expecting her to respond quickly. But your phone's notification was heard, and you ran to the couch to grab it. Damn, she texts fast.
For my job
What's your job :(
I told you mine
I play football
And get paid for that
Elisa was on her couch when she heard a new message from you. She had been waiting for you to start the conversation, since she had no idea on how to text women.
When she saw the question, she frowned. She doesn't like to introduce her job to people no matter how much she's proud of herself for becoming pro. But she didn't want to lie, and maybe you wouldn't tease her or get overwhelmed and leave her.
Wait professionally??
That's so cool
Yeah
Thanks
I know your number is French but I know that players travel around
Where do you stay
Paris
I'm in my apartment right now
I can't believe you just play football like????
So if I search your picture online I can see what team you're in?
Yes but I'd rather me say it
Oh...too late I'm sorry 💔
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Seen 2 minutes ago
Elisa jumped up, fucking hell!
She stared at the black screen of her TV, are you going to be weirded out by her fans? Would that make you leave?
Elisa?
I'm sorry if I broke your privacy for this
My apologies xx
You huffed out a heavy breath, Damn it! You should've talked to her instead of doing this. Now she's probably uncomfortable with you because of this.
No it's okay
I just didn't know people can do that
Yeah haha
This is pinterest
And you can do that on Google too
That's how I know the names of the weird plants around my building
I'm really sorry if it made you weird
It's okay I guess I just wanted to lie to you and joke about my career but I forgot I'm kinda famous
Oh wowww
Were you going to lie that you're the female Messi or what
Wait if that picture was from yesterday, your fans are quick 😭
I actually prefer Ronaldo
Yeah sometimes they scare me
Ew not him
What type of fans do you have
The thirsty kind
They're nice and make cool edits of me
Sometimes violate my personal space but that's what you get when you're in public ig
Ohh I'm so sorry
Omg i just realized how scary it would've been if I were one of your fangirls and you sent me that nude pic 😭😭😭
Lolll 😂😂
I was freaking out for a while when I found out you weren't the girl
Aren't you happy that you found me though 😁😁
I am
You're pretty cute
Even when you refuse to show me how you look
Elisa :(((
I can't do it just yet
I know
I understand that
Where do you live
That's not a safe question to ask 🤨🤨
I live in Paris too
Just the unknown quiet side
That's cute
Pretty chill and tourists don't bother you
Do you live in a fancy apartment or with your family
A studio apartment
Gotta save my money to spoil my future wife
Wife?
Are you gay?
Elisa please if I weren't gay I would've blocked you and moved on with life
Elisa smiled brightly when she read your message, does that mean you're interested in her?
Good
Because I'm gay
I don't think it's hard to figure that out
But I'm glad you're comfortable with me knowing about it
It's easier when it's texting
It would've been harder in real life
I think if I saw you in real life I would scream GAY
Oh wow
I would've done the same thing
Nuh uh
Yuh uh
I would've also asked you out
If I wouldn't be shaking from anxiety
Really?
Am I your type
YES??
I don't think you understand the panic I had in my office when you sent me the pic of your face
Good
Now I wanna see you
Elisa stop
Sorry
No I'm sorry
I can send you a picture of my face
But
I need abs selfie
??
Hmm...I'm conflicted
I'm just kidding
Unless
Hmm
I wanna see you so bad
Okay calm down
Don't put your hand under your panties
HUH
Do you wanna meet up
That's kinda unsafe
I could be a catfisher
But are you though?
I can't believe a catfisher can text like this 🙈🙈
😭😭😭
You're so cute
And now that you mentioned us meeting
It makes texting you even harder
I'm on my bed now
Oh??
Do you need help with something?
...
Depends on what you can offer
Chocolate 🍫
Oh I was expecting something else
But I'd take it
I'm gonna sleep
Good night
Stranger
Good night Elisa
Dream of me
X
Elisa stared at the message you sent with a smirk on her face. It's been scary how fast the pace of your conversations is, but she was happy. It meant that the both of you guys are comfortable texting each other. She shut the phone off and stuffed her face into the pillow, dreaming of the one and only...'stranger'.
It's been a week and I still don't know your name
Xoxo gossip girl
Actually
I never watched that show
Please 🥺🥺🥺
You've seen my bare back and face
And locker room
And my TV
And the gym
Toes
You basically have seen everything
Maam
I was just gonna say it
It's y/n
I wanna see you 😔
You basically know my whole schedule
Yeah you're gonna go buy groceries today
Stop stalking me 😟😟
You don't have training today
You have a match
Turn off the phone and get ready
It's just 12pm??
The match is at 7
When do you have to get ready
We have to be there around 5
We're gonna be wearing suits today 🕴🕴
OMG
Show me to me rachel
Send it to me pleaseee
What
Who the fuck is rachel
Idk if I'll be free and send you a pic
Usually I turn off my phone before
It's a tiktok trend
Oldie
Ohh
I prefer instagram
Are you liking other women posts while texting me???
Whore
Give me your Instagram account and I'll like every post 😘😘
No don't say that I have pictures from when I was 14 there
Oh nvm maybe not every post
Wait why do you have posts from back then 😭😭
Your account sounds like a mess
Because I looked cunty in the pictures?? Besides my account is private and I have like 60 followers only
What about you?
What about me?
How was younger you?
I don't wanna talk about younger me
Nooooo
Please
I'm pretty sure you looked so cute 🥺🥺
Wait some of your fangirls probably have pictures
Ughh
Fine
Go and look on pinterest or whatever
if you don't want me to know it's okay
i was joking xx
no me too
its okay
you've seen my back i dont think baby me is that bad
go ahead
your back is not bad what are you talking about ;)
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THATS YOU?
stopp you looked so cute
OMG
No
Not this
Omg in my defense my ex gf at the time thought I was hot here
Pleasee I probably would be blushing too if I were her look at you 🥺🥺
YOU HAD A GF AT THAT AGE??
Yeah young love
She was in france for the summer
Like two weeks only and she was brazilian so my dad liked her
...your dad?
Ohhh
Wait that sounded wrong
She used to speak with my dad portuguese and he is from portugal
Ohhhh
So he wanted her to teach u?
Yeah but we were busy doing other things
Ew
Stop talking about your ex im gonna get jealous
Im joking
I was too scared to do anything like that
Well actually i did have my first kiss with her
But it was mostly really shy awkward football dates
Elisa im gonna block you shut the fuck up
Wow
What about you
Young love?
I had my first relationship when i was 20 💀
And she CHEATED
Ugh the audacity
Awhh
What awh
You think me getting cheated on is cute
Okay whore
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Omg no please no more baby pics
But you looked cute :(((
Baby eli
seen 4 hours ago
Elisa scratched her chin as she eyed Constance, hoping she would start a conversation, "what's wrong? Eli please..." Constance giggled as she saw Elisa's face.
"Awh thank you for asking I was questioning our friendship for a second," Elisa joked, smacking picaud's shoulder, "do you remember the girl from the club?"
"the straight one?" Picaud questioned as she buttoned the suit, trying her best to look presentable.
"the straigh- she was not straight." Elisa froze, looking at picaud's reflection in the mirror.
"Bitch please even Sakina, the straightest girl I know, noticed that," She tapped Elisa's shoulder to comfort her as she cackled.
Elisa felt blood running to her cheeks, was she that drunk not to notice? Maybe that's why she gave you the wrong number. Elisa felt deep embarrassment for not realizing sooner.
"Anyways... I'm sorry about it. What were you going to say?" She starting applying gel to her roots.
"Ugh... you're going to laugh at me even more now," Elisa rolled her eyes and contiuned buttoning her dress shirt, completely ignorning the concerning glance Constance is giving her, "Okay fine! She gave me a wrong number... and I accidentally... well not accidentally, I actually meant it...sent her a nude picture. A picture of my back, and it was another girl that's gay and around our age and she also lives here in Paris. Anyways, I just want to ask her out but I keep sounding like a cat in heat on how desperate I am and i don't want to scare her."
Constance jaw was on ground listening to Elisa's ramble, "Wait what?! Elisa are you out of your mind? Why the fuck did you send a random number a picture of your back?" She dropped her arms to her sides as she gave Elisa a disappointed look. Elisa turned the other way so Picaud doesn't look at her red face, "Oh my god are you hiding from me? Look at least she's a gay girl around your age...that's good, right?"
Elisa didn't respond for a second, "Ugh everyone keeps yelling and laughing at me for what I did...but I swear she's really cute."
Pauline took a step towards Elisa and gave her a tight hug, "Can I see how she looks?"
"I don't know how she looks." Elisa shut her eyes tightly, preparing herself for the 5th lecture of this whole situation.
It was a minute of silence in the bathroom stalls, Picaud thinking of a kind and non-hurtful way to call Elisa stupid while Elisa was thinking of a way to allow you to meet her.
"Elisa you're the master of how to get catfished 101," She groaned out, pulling away from the hug to look at Elisa, "but...I'm not 100% against it. I think you should just continue letting her expose things about her. Write on your notes everything she says about her personal information and read over it...if things don't match then block her and move on."
Elisa quietly thanked God, no more yelling and shouting at her face. She nodded eagerly at what Picaud said and immediately left the bathrooms. She has to stop being distracted, there is a match happening today and you were the only thing she was thinking about.
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That's it??
I wanted to see your face :((
Sorry I have to go now
Love you
I know you're busy
Good luck
Seen 3 hours ago
The players hugged each other, too tired to speak up after the tiresome match. The team won 2 - 0 against Paris fc at parc de princes, and even with the win they knew their performance wasn't the best. It was Chawinga that scored those two, and the rest of the team was lacking a lot chemistry and communication.
Elisa tried her best, but the memory of her losing the ball to the opposing striker keeps haunting her. She knew that Twitter is definitely going to be grilling her for it, and she had made a promise to herself that searching her name on Twitter is not allowed for her mental health.
She remembered you and smiled, at least now she can text you all night without the stress of a match in her head.
Glancing around the stadium, she saw many teenage girls screaming and waving at her to try and get her attention. She gave them a soft smile and waved back, making them scream even louder. Ugh I wish I can get y/n's attention like this.
Hey
The match just finished
I'm sweaty and everyone else is screaming and singing but I wanted to text you
I know
I'm proud of you
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I watched you play in front of me and I don't think I've been more proud and attracted to anyone before
Wait
YOURE HERE
Pleaer dobr leave
Please do t
Dnt
Slmt
DONT
😭😭😭
Im staying here baby I'm not going anywhere
I'm going out of the locker room
Where are you
Which section
I'm waving
Wearing a white jacket
Wait why am I looking at a bald man with a white jacket and waving 😟😟
WAIT I SEE HIM
Turn around
Seen
Elisa turned around and had eye contact with you, maintaining it for maybe too long for your comfort. She wanted to make sure it was you, pointing at her phone as she gave you a questioning glance.
Understanding her gesture, you looked down and sent her a message,
that's me :)
Elisa you're scaring me
that's why I didn't send you a picture of my face in the beginning
y/n
Can you come down
ok
The stadium was already empty, having only the ball kids and the cleaners going around and collecting things. You started taking steps down the stairs, getting closer to Elisa as she was standing right on the edge.
"Hey! You're not allowed to get closer!" A security barged near you and placed his palm in your chest, trying to stop you from getting closer to Elisa.
"She's mine, you can leave her." Elisa placed her foot on one of the advertising boards, ready to jump and pull you away from him.
"She doesn't have the right pass, miss." He pushed you backwards, even when you were frozen in place in the first place.
"I don't fucking care what pass she has, I already told you she's mine!" Elisa was fed up with the security man, it's been a long day and having you right in front of her was exactly what she needed, and she won't allow anyone to stop it.
He turned to look at Elisa's angry face, giving her a timid nod before removing his arm from your front torso.
She sighed as she signalled for you to get closer, "sorry, I'm not usually like this."
"Hey..." You shyly gave her a soft wave, almost like it's the first time you guys have talked.
"Hi," she waved back with a lopsided smile, she couldn't believe that you were hiding this from her, "I don't understand why you didn't want me to know how you look when you look like this."
You jokingly slapped her shoulder away, biting your lip in embarrassment.
"No, seriously!" Elisa had a wide grin, suddenly the win they had today didn't matter. It was you that made her happy. She placed her hands on your cheeks, pulling you in so that your foreheads are touching.
"You played so good, Eli," you whispered to her, you knew looking at her eyes will make you melt into the ground, so you kept your eyes down at her lips, "I'm proud of you."
"Thank you, I don't think people on the internet are going to agree though," You wrapped your arms around her broad shoulders to pull her more into you. It was slightly harder because of the board between you, but you managed through.
Elisa pulled away from your hug and bent down, making you confused on what she was trying to do. She placed both of her arms around your waist and carried you, turning around to the other side so you can both hug without anything seperating you.
"I don't care what they say on twitter, I am José Mourinho and I think you're a fast, strong, and a hot player," you spoke in a deep voice pointed your finger at her, making her laugh as she pulled you in again in a tight hug.
"Let me take you out," she murmured under your ear, "I need to take you on a date."
Your face was a blushing mess, it was hard to say no to her. Even when she looked attractive on the selfies, seeing her in real life was something else, "I want to go out with you too, but we're going too fast. We've only been texting for one week."
"Everything was going fast when I started our conversation with that picture, I think we will be fine." Elisa hoped she didn't sound desperate, but she cannot let you go, she will never forgive herself.
You laughed at what she said, placing your hands on her back to feel the muscles from the picture, "okay, let's go somewhere,"
She pulled away slightly to look at your face with a pink blush around her face. Bending down, she gave your right cheek a kiss and hugged you again, "ugh I can't believe you're real!"
363 notes · View notes
makeyoumine69 · 2 months ago
Text
Last Memory (Memory Reboot x5)
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𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Some time after Patrick and Evelyn got married, Bateman thought he could live a normal life and finally forget about you, but he didn't realize that he was already starting to lose his grip on reality, slowly but surely.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW, Patrick's POV, angst, lots of sex, canon violence, blood, near-death experiences, dark themes, obsession, strong hallucinations, blowjobs, pussy eating, rough vaginal and anal sex, cum eating, tainted love vibes, drug use, depressing thoughts and intentions, blackout and fainting, rough choking, spanking, masturbation, cheating, dirty talk and slurs, pet names, degradation kink, self-harm and panic attacks implied, unstable Patrick is a warning himself, I might have forgotten something because this chapter is long af, so forgive me if I really did.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 15k
𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: VØJ, Narvent—Last Memory; Timecop1983—Back to You
ᴀ/ɴ: Hello dear readers, I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I just wanted to make this chapter as good as possible! After several rewrites, I think I am finally happy with the result. I'm very sad that Memory Reboot will end in the next update, but I hope you enjoy this angsty story! Also, there are some easter eggs in this chapter, so be on the lookout! And please be aware that there is a lot of trigger material in this chapter, so be careful! Thank you so much for sticking with me, you are all incredible!
𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]
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An annoying, sonorous alarm sound woke me up and I had to hit it with my fist, almost breaking it, to make it fucking stop. Yawning, I sat on the bed and realized that I was still in Evelyn's apartment; these cream-colored sheets made me want to cry from how much I hate them, but instead of ripping them off, I stretched my arms. The tension in my body, coursing from my shoulders down to my groin, was an eloquent sign that I needed release. With a loud groan, I stood up and briefly grabbed my dick through my white underwear, which seemed to have been hard all night since that bitch Evelyn, who was my wife by the way, refused to have sex again. It was the second time in a row. Sliding my messy hair back, I walked into the living room and noticed that Evelyn had already left. I sighed with relief that I didn't have to see her irritated face since I was already on the verge of going nuts.    
In the kitchen, I took the bottle of Evian from the fridge and made a long gulp before checking the time on my Rolex, frowning right away as I remembered Evelyn yapping about me always keeping them on, even when I went to bed. 
God, why can't women have their mouths shut sometimes?
With a wry grin, I placed the bottle on the counter and paused for a moment to check my reflection in the gleaming metal door of the refrigerator. Today’s day in the office was going to be tough as hell since I had a fuck ton of stupid meetings I tried to convince Jean to cancel, but she reassured me that it would be too rude to ignore my business partners for too long. Hmmph…
A bit later, when I was almost finishing my work out, I suddenly realized that it had already been two months since me and Evelyn got married. And no, I couldn’t really believe this since all days were like one long day—a day that seemed to never end. Huffing, I did another push-up, the 50th in a row, feeling not tired at all. Small beads of sweat rolled down my tensed forehead and I could care less about brushing them off as I was so focused on the pleasant feeling of my muscles flexing each time my chest almost touched the mat. Normally, sports could easily help me to distract myself, to let off steam, to feel refreshed and clear-headed, but now I was more detached from reality than ever before. And it seemed that no amount of exercise could help. Also, my condition was aggravated by the lack of sex, proper sex. When my muscles finally began to hurt, I stopped doing everything and just lay on the mat, panting and looking at the ceiling above. Then, I slowly looked down at my groin—still hard as rock–before my hand involuntarily grabbed it, eliciting a small gasp to fall from my wet lips. Fuck, I was about to explode from my own touch. That was not normal at all. It was pathetic.
Frustrated, I was certain that even a quick release in the shower wouldn’t soothe my mounting tension. It never did, considering that over the past few days I couldn’t even sleep, and what was worse was that even violence couldn’t bring me this much-needed relief. As I made my way to the bathroom, I was thinking, literally drowning in my obsessive thoughts.
I need more…I really need to get this done. I REALLY NEED IT! I NEED THEM!
 I bit my lip and turned on the shower, then got rid of my white boxers, stepped out of them, and strided on the cold marble. The water washed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes and let the steam splash along my flushed face. My skin felt like it was on fire, as if I were about to crash into the sun. I couldn't find any way to relax. I felt desperate and angry. I was pretty mad, too. But would killing you have helped me find peace? 
If I knew you were gone, if no one could ever be with you the way I was, would that be what I wanted?
 I let out a deep, exhausted sigh and pressed my forehead against the wet tiles, ignoring the way the tip of my cock brushed against the wall, sending tingles into my very core. The images of you covered in blood, trapped beneath me, almost sent me over the edge. I didn't let myself think about it for too long, though, because I knew it would lead to addiction. As if I weren't already hooked. My breathing got a little uneven, and I started scratching at the white tiles as I got hit by a sudden, intense rush of memories. I remembered your voice, your moans, and the way you screamed my name. I wanted to ruin you, to make you bleed, to tear you apart and leave you just like you left me. The pain you caused was so deep, it lingered. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't realize what I was doing. I let my hand rest on my throbbing length while the fingers of my other hand slid down my lower back, right between my legs. The moment I touched my tensed asshole, I moaned. I was loud and needy. I was embarrassed but also aroused. I thrust into my hand, slowly at first but gradually losing control, while my digit slid inside my ass completely with ease. I couldn't hold back my whimpers as I was about to cum. My vision was filled with blood, intensifying my fantasies about you. With my eyes closed, I was on the brink of losing it when I suddenly heard some commotion coming from behind the bathroom door. 
"Damn!" I groaned and hit the wall in front of me, my dick pulsing even after I let go of it.
"Honey," Evelyn's voice echoed through the bathroom. I turned to see her casually walking to the shower, her blue eyes curiously examining my bare frame as if she was seeing me like this for the first time. "You didn't close the door."
Fuck, I really didn't.
Scrunching my nose, I pushed my wet hair back and spun around completely, giving her the full view of my nakedness. "I thought I'd leave before you got back..." my reply was brash and sharp. "...at least I hoped so."
Evelyn didn't react, she just stood in front of the shower, blinking and staring at me—at the way the water flowed down my sculpted body, to be exact—and something told me that just watching wasn't going to be enough for her.
"So... are you just going to stay and watch?" I said aloud before opening the glass door and letting some steam out of the shower. 
The blonde grinned broadly but remained motionless. "You're not trying to bait me like that, are you?" 
Jesus Christ, this woman is really driving me crazy.
Irritated, still struggling with my boner, I wanted to drag her into the shower without even asking and make her freshly bought Chanel suit so fucking shitty that she would definitely throw a tantrum, but I managed to control myself.
Leaning against the wet glass, I watched her unclasp her jewels, gems that shone in the dim bathroom light, my hands instinctively slipping down to my aching cock as I was now the one watching Evelyn take off her jacket, the delicate shape of her collarbones forcing me to admit that my wife was, after all, absolutely gorgeous and even though I didn't feel anything... sublime towards her, I couldn't deny that every time she did things like that, she stirred up a burning desire in me.
"What if I do?" My voice dropped lower from the tension building at the base of my spine. "You'll find another stupid excuse to deny me, like you always do?" I gave myself a slow stroke, biting my lips and quickly licking them as Evelyn removed her blouse and placed her leg on the edge of the tub, pulling up her skirt so I could see her black stockings. "Why didn't you go for Bryce when you had the chance?"
My body stopped listening to me as I said these words, as if I was hypnotized, but I felt no remorse, only a pang of conscience for how pathetic I probably was right now, standing in the shower jacking off to the woman I didn't really love, who was probably having an affair with my best friend all this time as a bonus.
"And you're bringing up Bryce again," Evelyn murmured, grinning like a vixen, her hands working meticulously to remove her stockings, stopping only when she was done with her expensive clothes, leaving herself only in a white Vanity Fair lingerie I'd bought her a few days ago to stop her hysteria. "Why is this only bothering you now...after we got married?"
"W-what?" I almost choked on my breath, my hand around my cock stalled in its momentum. "What are you talking about? It...it never bothered me."
Still, her words struck a chord within me and now I was even more angry with myself than before. Evelyn obviously thought she was in control of this situation—her extra confident demeanor, the way she moved and talked, even her blue eyes looked different now, as a wicked spark glinted in them. 
For a fleeting moment, I just stood there, trying to lose myself in the warm streams of water, not really knowing what to say, and a suffocating panic crept into my chest, but then, as I found myself gripping the glass shower door with all the force I could muster so that it wouldn't shatter, my vision blurred for a second before I noticed Evelyn's slender body pressed against the glass, her small but pretty breasts looking so damn inviting that I couldn't hold back a groan.
"What were you saying?" She asked indifferently, the water gurgling mixing with her voice inside my head pulling me into a trance.
"Nothing," I replied, leaning forward and pressing myself against the glass door from the opposite side, my dick brushing against it ever so slightly, but even this mere contact made me close my eyes for a dear moment. "I said nothing..." my eyes darkened, pupils dilated. "Now...get in...will you?" I grinned and tilted my head, watching my wife flutter her thick eyelashes like bird wings.
Evelyn didn't answer, standing still with her body pressed against the shower door, and I couldn't hold back anymore—I just dragged her in, not caring about her expensive lingerie getting soggy—I'd buy her a new one if I had to. With a surprised squeal, she then giggled as the streams of water ran down her fit body, her elegant fingers stroking my cheek for a fleeting moment before I picked her up and turned her around to press her against the cool marble wall. Evelyn's gasp echoed through the bathroom, sending a shiver down my spine, as if I were really into her, into all of this, and if that was not me imagining you in her place, if that was not making me want to be somewhere else right now.
Somewhere where nobody could find me. Us. 
"Patrick," Evelyn's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Can you hear me? The water's too hot..."
"Too hot?" I repeated, finding her statement so funny for no reason, but I cooled the water with my free hand anyway, still holding Evelyn in my arms as if she weighed nothing. "I'd say something like..."
"It's not the water that's making it hot, it's me," she cut me off, her face turning into a serious grimace, and for a second I felt like I was going to lose my shit. Is she making fun of me? "I've heard that enough, honey."
Frowning at that fucking nickname I really hated, I noticed the way she was pressing on my shoulders, implying that she wanted me to get her down on the floor, and I did—I didn't want to think, I didn't want to guess what was going through her mind—I just wanted to follow. To feel at least something beyond hatred and disgust. But I guess that was too much to ask.
Without saying a word, I knelt before Evelyn, leveled myself with her perfectly waxed pubic area, her breath hitching as I planted a soft kiss on her mound before tracing a finger along her wet from the water folds through the absolutely drenched fabric of her panties, which were now clinging to her like a second skin. I looked up at her with a mischievous grin, the water hitting my eyes painfully, but I held on to watch that raw need emanating from her body—savoring it like a vampire thirsty for blood.
My actions were smooth, calculated. When I got rid of her damp lingerie, I let the wet clothes that were now spread out on the shower floor fall to the ground, forgotten, and I was sure that Evelyn would have to throw them in a garbage can when we were done. The involuntary arch of her back, her hips brushing against my face and the moan she let out when the tip of my tongue flicked around her feverish clit, that was something I could live with. 
Letting Evelyn grind against my face, I began to eat her pussy more feverishly, my one hand holding her open while another was wrapped tightly around my hard dick as I jerked off in sync with my oral ministrations. It was actually a turn-on, but only because I managed to block out all thoughts of you... In another situation they would have helped me to orgasm, but now... now they would only destroy everything. 
I groaned when Evelyn pulled my hair harder than I liked, but I didn't want to punish her for it, not now, because I was still going to fuck her and this would be a perfect moment to show her how I felt and what I really needed. But then again, all of this made me feel pathetic in some odd, twisted way, that I was a starved dog who had to struggle to find barely any food to survive—what was my life—I was not living, I was surviving.
"Yes...yes...just like that," Evelen keened again as I tongue fucked her flushed cunt. "Keep...g-going..."
I could feel that she was so close to collapsing, it was kind of amusing how fast I could always make her cum, if only she knew that I always did it for myself, not for her, but for me. "Cum around my face," I spat out, my overalls buzzing from the tensind at the base of my cock; these little tingles were going to make me explode, but I didn't hesitate, increasing the pace of my own stroking. "Let it go. Now!"
My voice was muffled, gruff, I was sure its vibration only added to the overwhelming rush of bliss that was about to descend upon my wife as her legs began to tremble, her thigh on my shoulder jerking as I dipped my tongue inside her while my thumb caressed her oversensitive bud. And then she climaxed, convulsing and barely holding herself from screaming, I watched as she silenced herself with her palm, her eyes closed tightly, I reveled in such reactions, I always had, so I didn't stop as I wanted to prolong this scene—a scene full of fake emotions and this was just an echo of something I had experienced and lost— because if I stopped, I would fucking die.
Maybe this is what I always needed? Just to...stop existing?
Panting, I finally moved away from her hot, now swollen cleft, my own heart pounding so fast, but I couldn't move, I just stayed on my knees, the water falling on me like a heavy rain from that day I followed you to the airport and watched the plane take you away from me. For the second fucking time in a row.
Meanwhile, Evelyn was slowly coming down from her high, her chest heaving and falling so fast that for a moment I thought she was going to pass out, but then she turned and leaned against the wall, swaying her hips in the most inviting gesture I'd ever seen her make.
"Shit," I murmured almost imperceptibly, my basic instincts finally taking over. "You want me to fuck you?"
Gasping, she nodded and craned her neck to look back at me, I quickly stood and hugged her from behind, my lips tracing a short trail of kisses along her shoulder as I aligned myself with her entrance, she was so aroused and ready for me that I felt no resistance as I pushed myself into her malleable body. Just a few fleeting seconds for both of us to adjust before my pace picked up, the sound of wet flesh against flesh filling the room, and I pressed closer to Evelyn, her high-pitched moans fading in my delusions as I gave in—the images of you were so clear in my mind now that I clenched my teeth to hold back my own moans—I was weak and I hated myself for it.
Luckily Evelyn was on the pill so I didn't have to worry about a sudden pregnancy, but there was still some fear I tried desperately to ignore, my thrusts became ragged, raw and deep, I was about to spill myself inside her, both palms cupping her breasts, rubbing soft mounds, but then I squeezed them quite roughly and Evelyn's loud whimper was a sheer testament to my ferocity. Feeling my whole system shatter, I managed to stop myself from sinking my teeth into her neck as my vision turned white as I reached my peak with your name on my lips, though I never let myself say it out loud.
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A little later that morning, as I dressed in my freshly tailored dark charcoal flannel double-breasted suit with wide white pinstripes, the sun was high in the zenith and its rays bathed Evelyn's bedroom in a soft golden hue. This brief encounter of intimacy with my wife gave me some hope that maybe there was still a chance to live a normal life, the one my mother and father always wanted for me, the American dream family they always told me about, but my parents never really tried to understand me, but since Sean chose a different path in life, not the RIGHT one, the legacy of my family fell on my shoulders.
Trapped in my thoughts, I didn't even notice the phone ringing somewhere next to me, I turned around to see a small black phone on the nightstand. At first I decided to ignore it, since I didn't really care about Evelyn's business, I didn't care at all, but this time something inside of me started to sting.
Who can call her at this hour?
With a soft click of my tongue, I finished adjusting my cufflinks and looked back at the buzzing phone, deciding to pick it up and find out who the hell was calling my wife. "Yes? Who's this?"
"Hello, Patrick," your voice crawled into my brain like a parasite, I swallowed, my skin covered in goosebumps and I sweated almost instantly. "How's it going? Don't you think it's a bit pathetic to think of me when you're banging your lovely wife?"
"You?" Was the only thing I managed to say. "Where did you get this number?"
I heard you laughing as if you were right next to me. "Tim gave it to me," you replied with blatant audacity. "Uh...you're not happy to hear me? That's a shame because I thought you missed me."
"Listen," I spat into the phone, gripping it so tightly that it was about to break in a half in my hand. "I don't know who you think you are...but believe me when I say I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR FUCKING LIFE! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"
"Patrick? Who are you talking to?" I turned to see Evelyn standing in the doorway, her blue eyes full of concern.
Caught red-handed, I took the phone away from my ear and chuckled. "It's just...a random call...nothing serious." When I said that, her face became even more worried. "Is something wrong, darling?"
Evelyn blinked several times before answering. "I definitely remember turning off the phone before I went to sleep...I always do..."
Her words hung in the air for some time before I could actually continue, and when I finally did, I tugged at my collar from the sudden lack of oxygen in my lungs.
What the fuck?
Under Evelyn's attentive gaze, I looked up at the receiver as if seeing it for the first time in my life, then I pressed it to my ear again and all I heard was silence—a deafening, eerie silence—even a single beep could not be discerned. My throat tightened uncomfortably and I felt like throwing up from the tight knot in my stomach, for I'd never felt such fear before.
"Patrick...are you okay?" The blonde woman asked, not daring to come closer. "Are you taking the medicine your psychiatrist prescribed you..."
"Evelyn!"
"No, I'm serious! This isn't funny Patrick, I'm scared," she suddenly confessed and I swore I couldn't remember seeing her so worried. "You need help...why don't you let people help you?"
With that Evelyn stormed out of the bedroom and I was sure she was crying. Damn women, never give you a chance to explain yourself. I cursed before slamming the phone down on its station with a thud, probably shattering the plastic, but who fucking cared? All they cared about was whether I was taking those fucking pills, but no one really cared about...me. 
It took me some time to calm down and finally go to work. I didn't talk to Evelyn before I left, as it was pointless in her current state. As soon as I was outside, I breathed in the fresh air and watched the passers-by walking here and there without even noticing each other, this scene I saw every day, I picked out my Walkman like in a slow motion movie, put the headphones on my head and then attached it to my belt, the next moment I heard Madonna's deep voice surging through my head.
The taxi ride to the Pierce & Pierce office took longer than usual because of the heavy traffic. When I finally entered the high-rise building, I didn't take off my headphones because I didn't really want to talk to anyone, I just walked through the long corridors like a ghost without a name. It was really interesting that I never really thought about my fucking coworkers constantly messing up my name—they didn't know who I was even though we met every week—but you—you remembered it so clearly, there wasn't a single day that you mistook me for someone else. Jean greeted me as always with her sweet smile. Today she wore a dress and high heels. I smiled at such details and pulled up my headphones so I could hear her. 
"Did I miss anything?" I asked casually, thinking I was late as I often was.
Brushing her blonde hair, my secretary rose from her seat, clutching her favorite notebook to her chest. "Timothy Bryce called to ask about lunch."
My eyebrows raised in skepticism at her words.
Bryce. Wants to see me after not talking to me for almost a week. Interesting.
"Uh, right, but I thought I had a pretty busy schedule today?" I asked nonchalantly.
"Well, yeah," she quickly opened her notebook and then raised her bright eyes to me. "But you have a little window..."
At some point, Jean's voice became as much white noise as Madonna's song, the lyrics of which slipped away from me like a leaf in the wind. The thought of Tim finally revealing that he and Evelyn were having an affair behind my back, as if they really thought I could be stupid enough not to notice, brought me a strange sense of relief. It was like an itchy splinter in your finger that you couldn't bring yourself to pull out, but you knew that the longer it stayed there, the worse it would get.
"Okay, Jean," I heaved abruptly. "Be a doll and make a rez in a good place. Then call Bryce back."
Jean was noticeably confused, but I was too overwhelmed with my own chaotic thoughts that there was no room for anything else. With a devoted nod, she returned to her seat and I opened the door to my office, where everything was the same, all things in the places I had left them. At least there seemed to be something constant in my life.
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The rustling of chatter and the clinking of silverware against plates mingled in a wild cacophony of sounds I was quite familiar with—I was born in the middle of this madness, to say the least, the lush life of people like me was something you couldn't really avoid, though I never tried to avoid it, I enjoyed every little benefit I got from being rich. 
So now I was sitting in Delmonico's lash interior, holding a glass of J&B on rocks in one hand and a cigar in the other. I waited for Bryce to come and soon I noticed his approaching figure, his black hair slicked back as usual, and I even chuckled at how fucking punctilious this man always was. Tim ordered a glass of Russian vodka and some seafood appetizers. After a short casual conversation we both fell silent and just when I was expecting him to tell me the reason why he wanted to see me, he suddenly picked up a shiny cardholder and put it on the table, then took out a pack of cigarettes to grab one.
"New cardholder?" I asked, definitely remembering that Bryce used to have a different one. "Looks...nice."
"It's platinum," Timothy commented before lighting his cigarette, his gray eyes scanning the room before focusing on me. "It's a gift...from our mutual friend."
Friend?
I almost bit the inside of my cheek to the point of bleeding. "Really?"
Bryce let out a puff of smoke and pointed to my empty glass. "I heard you quit drinking," he grinned and dabbed the ash from his cigarette. "That you're on... some medication."
"I wonder who told you that," my jaw almost snapped in anger, I had to claw at my knee to regain some composure. "And yes, I had to take medication for a while...but I'm on a break now." I hoped he could tell by the tone of my voice that I wasn't going to continue this conversation. "Who else would know how it works better than you since you went through rehab. Am I right, Bryce?"
I knew how much he hated talking about it, so his recent bravado faded like a cloud of smoke, but his cheeky grin never left his face.
"I get it, I get it," he laughed softly before sipping his drink. "You definitely got off on the wrong foot today, but it's okay," the man swirled his glass in his hand, watching the ice cubes clink against its walls. "I just wanted to tell you that... you're definitely missing something. Or maybe I should say—someone."
Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side. "Maybe you can tell me something more...specific, or are we going to play that crappy guessing game?"
Bryce shifted in his seat and wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by two familiar voices—Craig and David.
Shit, why did those two idiots have to come right now?
The moment was ruined, and so was I.
"Wow, I can't believe my eyes! See, I told you they had a date," McDermott let out a loud chuckle, my fists clenched, and if we were somewhere else, preferably alone, I'd fucking break my glass against his smug face. "I called Jean and she said you two were having lunch together. Isn't that sweet?"
"Oh, fuck you, McDermott!" Bryce retorted, but he wasn't really angry. "Fuck you and your cheap jokes. Your sense of humor is as flat as the ass of that chick you met in the Tunnel yesterday. Besides, how was she?"
The Tunnel, that damn club that started all this shit. I closed my eyes and tried to shake off the unwelcome memories of that day, but all I wanted to do was leave this place. Bryce's words became a breaking point, they helped a cup of weights to turn to another side without him even knowing it. Slowly I rose from the table, ignoring any questions, dismissing them with a clumsy gesture.
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This evening was destined to be spent in the Tunnel after everything that happened today. I didn't tell anyone about my spontaneous venture to find some escape in the nightclub full of drug-addicted chicks and yuppies like me. My mind was racing with the idea of doing some coke, all I had to do was find the dealer that Bryce and I always hang out with and get a gram. A very simple plan to forget about all the shit that was going on in my life for a while.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say.
As I strolled across the dance floor, I noticed the bar was pretty empty, so I decided to have a drink before finding the dealer, as the glass of whiskey I had at lunch was not enough. The bartender greeted me with a polite smile as he cleaned the bar. 
"Good evening, sir," the man took a shiny glass and set it in front of me. "What would you like to drink?"
"A J&B straight and a Corona." I replied, taking a seat and fumbling for my wallet.
The bartender nodded and went to get my drinks. While I waited, I looked around when I noticed the only person sitting at the bar—it turned out to be a redheaded girl, a very good looking one—I hummed to myself, absolutely sure that such a girl was definitely not alone tonight. 
"Your drinks, sir." The bartender placed an open bottle of Corona next to my glass, now filled with my favorite whiskey.
"Thank you." I handed him a few bills before he could even tell me how much I had to pay. 
The young man babbled something incoherent that I couldn't even make out, but after I gave him a dead stare, he just took the money and finally left me alone. Annoyed, I checked the time on my Rolex before grabbing a bottle of Corona to take a sip, but I was interrupted again. This time not by the bartender.
"Hey," a soft female voice hung over my ear, sending a massive wave of excitement through me. I turned to see that the chick from the other end of the bar was now standing so close to me that I could smell her flowery perfume. "Are you here alone?"
I wish I could say that, but my thoughts of you were always here, with me, but instead of saying that bullshit, I nodded and grinned, checking her body in the most humiliating way, thinking it would scare her away from me, but the gleam in her green eyes only increased after my move.
God, she doesn't know what she's asking for.
"Yeah, you could say that." I smiled again as she sat down next to me. "What about you?"
The girl leaned against the bar, her ginger hair cascading down her elegant shoulders, and for a moment I couldn't take my eyes off her. "I wasn't supposed to be alone tonight, but...you know how it is...most men are total jerks."
I could barely keep myself from bursting out laughing. "Did someone offend you?" She played with the gold bracelet on her wrist and nodded shyly, a move I suddenly found very sexy. "Do you mind if I get you a drink?"
"First, tell me your name," she muttered in a challenging way—a blatant provocation that I ate like a starved man. "Then I'll think about it."
This girl is so sweet, I bet her insides are the same.
At first I wanted to use a fake name, like I always did, but then I just gave her my real name, because in the end it would make no difference. "Patrick....Patrick Bateman," I finally took a sip of Corona and savored the taste. "And you?"
"Nicole," the girl said, still fiddling with her jewelry. "But I used to have a lot of different names."
"I like this one," I chuckled, smiling charmingly. "It suits a girl like you."
"A girl like me?"
"A beautiful girl...very beautiful I must say." My voice was deep and soft like silk, I noticed the way she straightened her shoulders, slowly but gradually relaxing. 
"You really think so?" She asked me, her eyes roaming over my mischievous face, then down to my lips.
Instead of answering, I just smiled in the most enchanting way possible before calling for the bartender to order her a drink. Nicole and I talked for a while—she told me she was from Canada and didn't really have any friends in New York—it was strangely satisfying but I tried to be sympathetic and supportive even though my mind was so far away from here. The ginger girl didn't even notice how she finished one cocktail and then another, while I didn't even touch my whiskey, just idly sipped my bottle of Corona because for some reason I wanted to be as sober as possible.
As the club was getting more and more empty, Nicole was ready to give me a blowjob right at the bar, but I convinced her to go to my place and to be honest, I didn't expect it to be that easy since I hadn't really planned anything like that. I forgot about the drug dealer because now I had to worry about what I was going to say to Evelyn tomorrow because I was definitely not going to spend the night with her. 
"Patrick..." Nicole nestled into my side as we sat in the cab. "Did I tell you I know...F-French?"
I crossed my arms and shook my head in dismay. "No, you didn't," I said, looking down at her red, messy hair. "But it's nothing special...you're from Canada and French is your second official language."
Nicole let out a cartoonish giggle that made me cringe. "Oh...you know it? Damn, you're such a smart man...Mr. Bateman...so fucking smart...most guys I've slept with....didn't know that..." she giggled again and tried to pinch my nose, but I shooed her away. "Can you believe that?"
At a certain point, I was even starting to regret bringing her along, but I hoped I'd be able to shut her mouth with something...sharp and maybe deadly. "It happens, Nicole. Like you said, there were so many bad people in this town. Fortunately, you're lucky to have met someone like me."
The girl hugged me at my words, I could feel her drunk breath next to my lips, but instead of turning away I let her kiss me and it felt better than I expected. Soon the cab pulled up to the American Gardens Building. The walk up to my apartment didn't take much time, I was already thinking about how I was going to dispose of her body after I was done with her. Nicole, completely unaware of my dark thoughts, walked around my apartment barefoot as she kicked off her shoes, complaining about how fucking uncomfortable they were.
"Oh, this place is so fucking...c-cool!" She managed to say, swaying from side to side while moving. "Jesus, is that a telescope? Why do you even need that?" Nicole giggled like a child seeing one for the first time, but who knew, maybe she really was seeing it for the first time. "Do you... spy on people with that... thing?"
"No, Nicole." I replied curtly, standing next to her with my hands hidden in the pockets of my tailored pants. 
"Are you...an astronaut...from NASA?" She asked, then winced when she finally noticed my looming figure. "Are you... going to send me to the moon tonight, handsome?"
"I'll do more than that," I crooned, placing my hand on her waist and pulling her closer. "But I must say one thing you may not like..." a short pause, then a soft rumble left my throat. "I prefer that beautiful mouth of yours to be closed. Do you understand?"
I was expecting anything other than this bitch dropping to her knees and immediately working on unbuckling my belt. The way she was behaving was both amusing and enticing, but what I enjoyed most was that she was so naive and completely dumb.
"Look at you," I murmured before grabbing a handful of her ginger curls that were blocking her vision. "So inpatient, huh?"
By the time she managed to undo my pants, I was already so hard that my dick sprang out of the confines of my clothes and almost slapped her face, but it didn't bother her at all—I could only see an uncontrollable desire in those big green eyes that were now looking at me as if asking for my permission. 
Shameless, pathetic whore.
With a practiced move, I grabbed the back of her head to pull her closer to my crotch, then pressed my engorged dick against her lips, sliding it along them and making her lick off my pre-cum. "Yeah," I croaked, biting my own lips. "I definitely like you more like this...open your mouth, bitch."
Nicole obeyed and the next thing I knew I was thrusting into her mouth, her warmth welcoming me and making me grunt as I bucked my hips into her face, pushing myself further until I heard her gag around my shaft.
"'C'mon, choke on my dick," I snarled, pulling on her hair with brutal force, her nose rubbing against my pubis and I snaked my hand down to rest on her throat, wanting to feel my cock slide along it. "I'm sure no one has ever face fucked you like that...am I right, honey?"
I used that ugly nickname Evelyn always gave me and pulled myself out of her mouth to hear her answer, but she just gulped desperately for air and grabbed my legs for any semblance of support. 
"Oh-Christ...you're...s-so fucking big," she wept, trying to wipe the liquid mixture off her chin, but I wouldn't let her, pulling her head back. "Shit...you're really one of those guys...who likes it rough?"
With a devilish smile, I gave myself several quick strokes before answering. "Oh, darling. You can't even imagine how MUCH I like that kind of thing."
Panting, Nicole was not ready for me to invade her mouth again, but I didn't care, just as I ignored her little protest when I fucked her throat and felt the curve of my dick slide into her wet, tight channel. It was a bliss I had always sought, that fleeting moment of raw control over another human, once you tasted it you couldn't stop yourself.
Perfection.
As time passed, I came at least twice in her abused mouth, each time making sure she swallowed every drop, but then I got bored of fucking her face and left her sprawled out on my expensive living room floor, which I would definitely have to call the maid service to clean. Barely alive, Nicole literally vomited my sperm mixed with her blood, her plump lips swollen and bruised from my beatings—I couldn't stress her pathetic whimpering anymore, so I had to act—but she would last a while longer, I was sure of it.
As I rummaged through my stuff in the bedroom to get a condom, Nicole's pathetic whimpering was like music to my ears, but at some point I considered turning on some real music to muffle the girl's screams, although to my surprise she was not that loud. But just in case, I returned to the living room and stepped over Nicole, who was still lying on the floor, to get to my stereo and put on the latest Talking Heads album, True Stories.
"I didn't ask you what kind of music you like," I suddenly chuckled and moved closer to the sobbing girl to crouch down beside her. "But I doubt it would change anything."
After that, I stood up and decided to strip completely, every move I made calculated and mastered to perfection. One second, two seconds....ten seconds and I was almost naked, when the only thing left on me was my gold Rolex, I heard her weak, shaky voice:
"Whitney Houston," she murmured, barely audible. "I love Whitney Houston."
I stopped in my tracks. "Oh...really? What is your favorite song?"
My lips were curled in a smile that came dangerously close to something insane as I carefully placed all my clothes on one of my black chairs before picking up the girl and moving her to the window—away from my white couch that I didn't want to stain with her fucking blood. She didn't struggle, she didn't struggle at all as I positioned her against the window, pressing her bruised face against the cold glass.
"Take Good Care of My Heart," the redhead added as I began to poke at her soaked pussy, which was not shaved like most of the girls I used to have, and to be honest, I really liked it. "I...I really love the whole album."
"Oh yeah," I chuckled into her ear, fixing her in place as the tip of my cock plunged into her, causing her legs to shake. "This is such a good album..."
With that I bottomed her out completely, my balls slapping against her ass, red from my spanking, I thought I could see the outline of my hand. Her little cunt felt no worse than her mouth, but it was not as tight...after being with you, nothing seemed tight enough to me.
Fuck it!
Cursing under my breath, I sped up to pound into her as hard as I could. Thank God the glass didn't break, but I changed our position anyway. Now Nicole was bent over my black leather chair, her ass wiggling every time I thrust into her and I couldn't stop myself from spanking her, I wanted her to fucking scream and cry out in pain but all I could get from her was nothing that could signal that she was in pain. On the contrary, this girl seemed to enjoy it so much, as her hips moved in rhythm with mine, she bucked in my direction to meet my movements.
"Shit, you fuck like a whore," I blurted out, grabbing her hair in a self-made ponytail. "Is that why you came to America? To be a fucktoy for men like me?"
"Mmm...f-fuck me...please...fuck me!" Nicole didn't seem to hear me, I had to squeeze her throat to shut her up. "Ye-yes...fucking...c-choke me...please!"
Stupid bitch.
In one swift motion, I pulled out only to slam into her unprepared asshole, making her scream in pain and fuck, she sounded amazing. Quickly wiping the sweat from my forehead, I pushed her down on my cock, noticing the crimson drops of her blood on my dick, which only spurred me to move faster and more ferociously. This bitch didn't see it coming, but she was still pretty obedient, which started to seem pretty weird to me, because usually by this time women start to panic, fight and try to escape, but this fucking hoe didn't even say a word about the way I was treating her.
And that started to disappoint me.
When I thought I was not going to climax, I closed my eyes and let my imagination take control of my brain. Huffing, I rammed into Nicole harder, fantasizing about you—how we could go 69, your fingers buried deep inside my asshole - I could fucking feel the sensation of them and it sent an electric shock right through my tensed sac.
"Oh, fuck," I gripped her waist with both hands, fucking her with pure abandon. "You...fucking...arrogant prick...I hate you! I hate you s-so fucking much!"
All my curses fell on deaf ears as Nicole only whimpered in response, gripping the back of the chair and the next second I found her cumming around my cock, her inner walls spasming around me, triggering my own orgasm.
 When I was finally finished with her, I stood over her trembling body as she lay on the floor again. The girl was shaking and giggling, I thought she probably lost her mind already, so instead of using a knife or something, I decided to just strangle her with my bare hands. I wanted to see life slowly leave her body. I fucking craved it.
"Nicole," I shook her before getting on top of her, pressing her down with the weight of my muscular body. "Look at me."
Nicole's bloodshot eyes couldn't focus on mine for some time, she was stunned, dazed, ruined and intoxicated, I had to slap her face several times before she finally locked her hazy gaze with mine. The sweet anticipation of the kill enveloped my mind, my cock grew hard again as I placed both hands around her fragile neck, I began to squeeze it, lightly at first but then more and more forcefully.
"You made a big mistake coming to America, Nicole." I let out a taunt, not really expecting her to hear it or respond to it.
Everything was going according to plan when she suddenly smiled and covered my hands, not to take them off, but to stroke them with a wicked... attraction?
"Please...kill me already...I beg you..." She couldn't stop herself from crying and laughing. 
This was a psychotic episode I had experienced so many times, but I never expected to see it with my own eyes. I froze in shock, losing my grip, and as I did, Nicole pulled my hands back to her throat, shaking me as if to wake me up.
"No, no, no, no! Please...don't stop...please...I want to die! Patrick, please...set me free!" Nicole's voice cracked and I could finally see the sheer desperation in her green eyes, but this kind of desperation was different. 
This wasn't the kind of despair I'd seen before...this was something completely different. It was kind of a turn-off for me. The whole evening was fucking ruined, I couldn't believe it. Shaking my head, I stood up and stepped away from her as if from a fire. 
"Patrick...please!"
"Shut up!" I yelled, looking down at my own hands—they were shaking so badly. "Shut the fuck up!"
In a panic, I rushed to the bathroom to wash my hands for who knows what reason, then grabbed my robe and put it on. I couldn't really explain what was happening to me, but when I got back to the living room, I picked up Nicole's clothes and threw them at her.
"Get dressed," I ordered, and then I went into the bedroom to unlock my safe and take out several bundles of money. What was I doing? Panting, I paused in the doorway to watch her get dressed, then walked over to her and handed her the money. "I want you to take this, go to a hospital and get back to Canada. Do you hear me, Nicole?"
The redhead was silent, just looking at me with her pleading eyes. "But I don't want to go..."
"You have to." I emphasized the words by lowering my voice. "Just do what I say and everything should be... okay."
"But I don't want it to be okay." Nicole tried to touch me, but I pulled away.
"Just go," I repeated my previous words, this time in a more serious voice. "And never come back."
I spent the rest of the night sitting in the shower, literally sitting on the floor, crying. A lot. My eyes were so red and puffy that I didn't know which ice mask would help me look normal tomorrow. The hatred of myself that rose from my chest to my cheeks and made me nauseous—I hated myself so much that I finally admitted that I had changed—you had changed me and there was no going back. The man I was before died, now I was just an empty being, or maybe a new man had been born in my shallow soul?
When I finally managed to drag my ass out of the bathroom, the phone rang and I was sure it was Evelyn trying to fuck my brain for not coming back to her apartment and to be fair, I wasn't ready for anything like that at that moment, but considering how much of a pain in the ass she was, I didn't want any more consequences if I didn't pick up the fucking call.
As I walked into the bedroom, I took the phone from my nightstand and finally answered the call. "Yes?"
"Patrick! Jesus, I thought you weren't going to answer the call!" It was you, damn it, it was you.
My teeth almost creaked with anger and disbelief. "How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off?! Are you stalking me or what? How the fuck did you know I was in my apartment?"
"I... I didn't know... I just decided to try my luck and here we are," you replied, your voice was different than it sounded this morning. "Listen Patrick, I'm in New York right now...maybe we can see each other?"
"See each other?" Those words made me sick. "Do you even hear yourself?"
"I know that...things are pretty tense between us, but...maybe we can at least talk about it?"
"No, we can't," I clutched the phone as tightly as I could. "I don't want to see you and I don't want to hear you. Do you understand? If you ever call me again, I'll fucking find you and KILL YOU!"
With that, I dropped the phone on the floor and screamed so loudly that my throat began to hurt. Right now I was nothing but a living madness, the things that were happening in my mind were like an open chasm to hell—a place I'd be one day, I had no doubt about it.
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The few days I spent in a dizzy state, I couldn't really remember what I was doing, but the only thing I was sure of was that I couldn't stop thinking about you. Also, I didn't kill anyone for lack of thrill, there was no more adrenaline or excitement—you changed me and now spilling some blood couldn't help me to relieve myself anymore. I felt like I was being shattered into pieces, decomposed into something primitive, for the first time I saw myself as being even more inhuman than I really was.
Inhuman.
What a perfect word to describe everything about me, but I still couldn't understand where I belonged? If not here, could there be a place for a creature like me?
This question was swirling around in my head like a brain worm; that damn rainy evening when I decided to stalk my dear wife. After my rather long absence, Evelyn was about to go to the police, but then I showed up at the door of her apartment at night, high as hell, but she didn't seem surprised at all. I expected her to be mad and angry, but instead she treated me really nice, I could hear her crying and her desperate touch when she hugged me, weeping and sobbing something about being so scared and worried about me and although I didn't believe a single word that came out of her mouth, something stirred inside of me.
The raindrops were falling on my umbrella like Morse code, hitting the surface with such a precise rhythm that I really thought maybe something or someone was trying to send me a sign. The level of absurdity was over the top, and if I were in a different state mentally and physically, I'd be laughing my ass off at this shit, but today I couldn't do anything funny. I couldn't smile, I couldn't sneer, I was like a ghost, a shadow of the person I was before I met you. So here I was, following Evelyn down the street after the taxi ride until I saw her stop at some hotel—a luxury hotel in Upper Manhattan to be exact— and then, after some time, when I thought nothing interesting would happen, a sleek black Cadillac stopped by the street and I saw Timothy Bryce get out of the car—he was holding a black umbrella just like me. Evelyn was so excited to see him that she didn't even wait for them to go inside the hotel, she kissed him now and then without holding back her emotions. This scene made the stone fall off my shoulders; I was so damn happy that I was right and that this fake marriage was about to collapse, but I still couldn't understand why Evelyn married me at all. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if one day, when we finally had a serious talk about it, she would confess that she loved both of us—me and Bryce— and suggested that we all live together.
Say hello to an altered version of the American dream family.
The reality was always cruel, and I knew it too well.
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A loud clap of thunder echoed through my apartment, waking me up in my living room, drenched in sweat. Breathing heavily, I turned around to register some pornography playing on my TV, my robe was undone, I was completely naked underneath, some remnants of my cum stuck to my stomach.
Shit, I just blacked out jerking off? This porn really sucks.
And this was the 5th or maybe 10th porn tape I had watched, and I only managed to cum once. Cursing and scowling, I fidgeted on my couch to find a remote control. I was disgusted with my current situation, but then I noticed two thin lines of white powder on my glass coffee table and a twisted $100 bill. Now everything started to fall into place.
Fuck, where did I even get this gram?
I rubbed my head, and instead of turning off the porn, I turned it up louder—two perfect bimbos making out, their oiled bodies wrapped around each other like two snakes—my hand instinctively sliding back to my hard cock, throbbing and soaked with my cum.
"Oh-fuck..." I murmured through clenched teeth as I pumped myself, watching the girls play with their large breasts. "Yeah...suck her tits...suck them like a fucking pacifier..."
The louder their moaning got, the more excited I got, and just when I thought I was about to climax again, I heard... a fucking phone ringing loudly—it hurt my hearing. Confused, I stopped doing anything, ignoring the fact that one slut was now riding on the face of another. There was only one thing I could think about right now— had I turned off my phone or not? Because I definitely remembered pulling the fucking cords out of it, but that thing kept ringing? 
Slowly I got up on my stiff legs and walked to the kitchen island to grab the phone, the only light coming from my playing TV and I bumped into something pretty hard before the fucking receiver was in my hand.
"Patrick Bateman's apartment..." I almost whispered, pressing the receiver harder against my head.
"...Pat..." the echo of a familiar voice wailed from the other end of the line, but I still couldn't make out who it was. "...need... -h-help!"
"Who...am I talking to?"
"Patrick, please, help me," your voice sounded so clear now that it echoed inside my skull, drowning out all the sounds of the bad weather outside. "I'm...I'm at Paul Allen's...I need help...please...I think I'm gonna die..."
Was this some kind of prank? 
I turned around and scanned my apartment as if someone was watching me right now. I felt insane and cornered, if I was really losing my mind the best option now would be to take more coke and trigger an overdose and then...
"Can you hear me? Please, come here, I'll... give you the address..." and then I heard loud interference and noise, so I had to pull the phone away for a second. "Patrick? Please...talk to me!"
"What...what happened?" I asked, still not believing what I was doing. "Are you in pain?"
"No...yes....Patrick...listen...you should write down the address..."
Without thinking, I grabbed the Vogue magazine lying next to the phone and a pencil, and the next second I was writing down the address where Paul Allen was supposed to live. 
"Hold on! I'll be right there!" I suddenly said into the phone, but all I could hear was the agonizing beep. "Hey...I'll be there...do you hear me? I'LL BE THERE!"
Fuck!
I dropped the phone and took several deep breaths before I finally came to my senses, or so I thought. Then I rushed to the bathroom to clean up and put something on without worrying too much. So I grabbed the first suit out of my closet, fixed my hair and left my apartment to take a cab. All the way to Paul's, I was holding a crumpled page of Vogue that I had to rip out. At first I didn't even notice that I wasn't surprised when the cabbie just nodded and we drove off, so this address was real? It meant you really called me? And what about all the previous calls?
Perplexed, I leaned against the cool glass of the car window and watched the nighttime cityscape blur into something unrecognizable, almost falling asleep, but the driver turned on the radio with some cheesy pop songs that kept me awake, as I was too irritated to ignore how much I disliked such music. When the car stopped in front of a towering building like the one I lived in, I paid the driver twice what I was supposed to and got out of the cab. There were no pedestrians and for a moment I really thought that maybe I was still asleep and had to pinch myself to wake up in my living room?
As I entered the building I saw a table where the concierge should be sitting, but there was no one, so I casually opened the journal to find the number of Allen's apartment—I felt a creeping shock when I actually found his name in the journal.
Okay… this feels…too real.
Feeling a strange thrill of the rush, I closed the journal and sauntered quickly across the large lobby to the elevators. Paul's apartment was on the 15th floor, so when the door opened on the floor I needed, I stepped out of the elevator with a heavy weight in my chest. Every step I took resonated with the fast beating of my heart, and when I reached my destination, I didn't know what to do - whether to ring the bell or knock or…
Shaking myself off, I first rang the doorbell—nothing. Then I knocked several times, then again, still no answer. Finally, I put my ear to the door to listen, but I couldn't hear a single sound. Anger overcame me, so I kicked the door and turned to leave. How stupid was I? Maybe mixing my pills and coke wasn't the best idea, but this...
When I got back to the lobby, an old man, who must have been a missing concierge, greeted me with a fake polite smile. "Greetings, sir. How can I help you?"
Annoyed as hell, I stopped next to his small table, adjusted my leather gloves, and pointed to his journal. "I was looking for Paul Allen's apartment, he's my friend and I wanted to see him, but it seems...he's out tonight."
"Oh, Mr. Allen left on a business trip this morning." The concierge said casually, but then he noticed how pale I'd become. "Sir, is something wrong?"
"Did you say he left this morning?" I asked again, feeling a few beads of sweat on my tense forehead.
"Yes, sir," the old man opened the journal and began to leaf through it. "I can even tell you the exact time he left..."
"No need. Thank you." Was all I said before I turned on my heels and headed for the exit.
Outside I noticed that the taxi that had brought me here was still standing by the side of the road. It was strange but I didn't even think about it. I got in and asked the driver to take me back to my place, but first I asked him to give me a moment to sit and think. With shaking hands I picked up the crumpled piece of paper with the address on it, I traced my handwriting before throwing it out the window, my temples pounding so hard I thought my head would explode. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, not noticing that the concierge I was talking to literally ran out of the building, looking around, seeking someone.
"Let's go." I ordered the cab driver with my eyes still closed. "And can you please turn off the music...my head is killing me."
The taxi drove off and I didn't see or hear the old man following the car. "Sir, wait! I made a mistake about Mr. Allen-"
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Today, after I refused to go shopping with Evelyn and help her choose a fucking curtain for her living room, she finally told me that she never loved me, that she wanted a divorce and nothing else from me. The relief I felt was comparable to a good orgasm, to say the least, Evelyn was shocked at my reaction—did she really expect me to beg for forgiveness? But the single mention of Bryce made everything come to its place, I wasn't angry, no, I just couldn't solve this fucking puzzle, what was all this for? If she really liked Bryce, why couldn't she just tell me and go for him? How many times had I told her that? A hundred? A thousand? Millions? Luckily, I wasn't inclined to leave my stuff in her apartment, so I finished my busing with 'moving out' pretty quickly and smoothly, because something glorious and important was waiting for me. The last moment of my drama.
I imagine that maybe someday there will be a show on Broadway based on my life—a great example of a life that no one should have lived—I smiled at the thought, as I always liked to romanticize things in the most clichéd and poetic way. After all, Bryce was right, I was mental, and no matter how hard I tried to run away from the dark version of myself, it would catch up with me one day. And that day seemed to have finally come.
As I walked down Wall Street, wearing my favorite headphones and listening to Huey Lewis and the News, I stumbled by the phone booth—a random idea plagued my mind before I could really think about it. Opening my briefcase, I found my notebook, and soon I was dialing your office number, hoping you wouldn't answer. But my hopes were never to be fulfilled. 
To my surprise, I heard a male voice coming from the phone and all the words stuck in my throat like a lump. "Uh...hi...can I talk to..."
"Sorry sir, I can't hear you properly...it might be the bad connection," the voice replied and it made me really nervous. "I'm sorry, but if you want to talk to my boss, they are out of the office right now."
Out of the office…shit.
"Who am I talking to?" I asked, almost fainting.
"Vinc..." an unpleasant static noise came over my brain and I held my eyes closed for a second from the stabbing pain in my temples. "My name is Vincent...I'm .... assistant."
"Listen, Vincent..." I started to speak, not even knowing that he could hear my words. "I want you to tell your boss that...Patrick Bateman called and...this would be my LAST call," I laughed hysterically, leaning against the phone booth door. "I'm going to, uh... disappear..."
A short pause seemed like an eternity.
"You mean you are leaving New York City, sir?" Vincent's question surprised me.
My lips twitched in a wicked smile. "No...I mean...yes..."
"Are you going somewhere in particular, Mr. Bateman?" The man asked me and I stopped breathing for a second.
"I'm going...to a place where no one will ever...find me..."
And with that I hung up the phone. There was already a line of people by the phone booth, and as I walked away, they looked at me with the most disdainful look I could ever dream of mastering. Unfortunately, I wouldn't need it anymore.
Soon the white walls of my apartment would be the only witness to my last confession. My apartment smelled so fresh and good, the maid had just finished cleaning, and I was glad that if the police found my body, they would see that wealth and money were not a panacea for a happy life, although I had believed in it fervently for almost all these years. With deliberate steps, I walked into my bathroom, grabbed a small bottle of medicine prescribed by my psychiatrist, and popped a handful of pills at once. Then I looked at my reflection in the mirror and somehow realized that the mask I had worn for most of my adult life was about to slip. Right now, at this very moment, I was about to die. An abnormal dizziness washed over me, I could barely stand on my feet when I suddenly saw your silhouette behind me in the mirror. I gulped and turned around to see nothing but the empty doorway, my hands shaking so badly that I failed to put the bottle back in its place, dropping it on the floor and scattering pills all over the bathroom.
Holy shit.
A strong gag reflex suddenly took over me and I managed to get to the toilet faster than I could throw up—I threw up all the pills—Jesus Christ, I was so weak I couldn't even finish this... I was so pathetic. In the end, I finally accepted that as the darkness took me in its cold embrace.
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Knock…knock…
What is this? Am I still alive?
I kept questioning myself because I didn't feel anything, no pain, no remorse, nothing. But if I were dead, I wouldn't hear that strange sound, would I? I opened my wet eyes and looked up at the white ceiling—I was still in my bathroom— lying on my back, covered in my own vomit, saliva and bile. My mouth smelled like a rotten rat and I knew what I was talking about. The annoying knocking kept coming from my front door, and although I didn't want to get up, I felt that if I didn't, this fucking knocking would never stop.
With careful, unhurried movements, I crawled to the sink and, leaning on the bathroom counter, managed to stand up and quickly brush my teeth, avoiding looking at my reflection because I was sure I looked like shit. After that, I took off my stained clothes and put on a new robe that I had bought myself for no reason a few days ago. 
As I approached the front door, the knocking stopped and I thought it was just another hallucination, but I decided to open the door anyway and to my surprise I saw my concierge who looked very worried and even scared.
"Mr. Bateman, thank God you're all right!" The man blurted out, holding his concierge hat in his hands.
"Of course I'm okay," I replied nonchalantly. "What happened? Or did you just come to check on me?"
"Well," the concierge looked away before rubbing his gray mustache. "Someone was looking for you..."
My eyebrows furrowed, and I peered out into the long corridor. "Who was it? Did they give a name? Was it a policeman or something?" 
"No, sir." The old man gave me an awkward smile that made me even more angry. "They were so desperate...they were literally storming around the lobby...constantly saying things about you not answering calls and not opening the door...I told them maybe you just left..."
The rest of what he said fell on deaf ears, because now I was absolutely sure who was looking for me. "What time is it now?"
"11 a.m., sir."
"Today is Friday, right?" I asked, my head spinning. "It should be Friday."
The concierge paused. "It's Sunday, sir."
Sunday?
A sharp pang of nausea crept into my stomach, nearly breaking me in half, but I managed to grab hold of the doorjamb for support. "Where is this person?"
"Mr. Bateman, I had to call the police because they were being...kind of aggressive," the concierge explained, stepping back a bit. "The cops arrived pretty quickly...they found out this person had drugs, sir."
I stagger to the side as if from the hard blow. "And what happened next...did they arrest them?"
"I...I guess so?"
I let out a tired sigh, rolling my eyes and trying to keep it together - this poor guy was not guilty, it was just an accident, but how did you get caught with drugs? It was so fucking illogical to me.
My voice was unnaturally soft as I tried my fucking best not to snap at the man across from me. "Did the cops really take them away? Did you see that with your own eyes?" The concierge just nodded, and I could tell by his nervousness that he felt it was his fault at some level. "All right, thank you for your information, remind me to tip you next month." And with that, I closed the front door, leaving the man in a completely bewildered state.
Shit...this whole situation seemed like a fucking joke, but I had to think fast—I needed a plan how to solve this bullshit and maybe I could get some answers if I could help you. I took a moment to collect myself and told myself that one way or another I had to go there...to rescue you.
I'll do it even if I have to burn down this police station.
In record time, my impeccable appearance was ready, and now I confidently walked down the long, dimly lit corridor of the police station that was closest to where I lived—I hoped you were in that station, but if not, I would visit all of them until I found you.
Finally, I reached the reception area, where a pretty policewoman greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for..." I opened my briefcase and showed her my notebook with your full name written in it. "Are they here, in this department? I believe they were arrested today."
The officer smiled at me before she turned around and started to rummage through some papers, folds, notes... With each passing moment I was getting more and more impatient, but I had to play it cool.
"I think I found the person you were looking for," the woman said, placing several documents on the reception desk, implying that I should take a look at them. "They were delivered here an hour ago."
"Can I see them?" I asked, putting on my casual, seductive smile.
“And what is your relationship to the suspect?” 
Damn, not this fucking question.
I was a little stunned at first, but then I quickly tugged at my red tie and tilted my head in a condescending way. "I'm their lawyer, and I need to see them as soon as possible."
I noticed that her expression suddenly changed, her eyes gliding over my massive form—she was obviously trying to access my appearance and compare it to the look of a successful lawyer living in New York City—when I gave her an intense look and then winked, she visibly blushed.
After a small cough, she took the documents and only then dared to look at me again. "The suspect is now in interrogation room number one. Don't get lost."
"Thanks." I grinned broadly and, after closing my briefcase, left the reception.
It didn't take me long to find the interrogation room I needed. As I stopped right next to the door, I checked myself in the reflection of the nearby window—I looked perfect, not as perfect as I used to be, but not too horrible either.
A light knock on the door before I opened it. "Good afternoon, sorry for the long wait. How is my client? I hope you haven't done anything inappropriate in my absence?"
The moment our eyes met, I could see a mixture of shock, disbelief, and something beyond human understanding.
"And who the hell is that?" One of the officers—a rather fat guy with a messy beard—asked his partner, then looked at you. "You said you were from Chicago and your lawyer had to catch a flight here."
"Yes, that's exactly what I said. Why are you telling me my own words?" You crossed your arms and gave me a scorching gaze, I seized the moment of your confusion to nestle into the empty chair next to you. "Probably...my lawyer has handed this case over to his colleague in New York, so he doesn't have to come here."
Both policemen looked at us as if we were idiots—which we definitely were—but I hoped this affair would work out.
"But you asked to be allowed to make a phone call... the whole damn time," another policeman replied, pointing his finger at you and then at me. "I'm going to send you both to jail if you don't tell me what-"
"Jesus Christ, I told you several times...I was at a party...I took someone's coat by mistake and there was...this fucking bag of cocaine, but it's not mine! You can check the fingerprints and you won't find mine on this fucking bag! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?"
"My client is right. Before we get the results of the fingerprint analysis, the presumption of innocence should not be forgotten." I started in the most serious tone I could manage. "Remember that."
Both officers started arguing with each other almost immediately, using many different insults that I would definitely have to remember so that I could present them to Tim— he would love to hear them. I was about to say something clever when the door suddenly opened and a woman with dark hair stepped into the room.
"What the hell is going on?" The woman asked her colleagues, looking disappointed and quite angry. "Everyone can hear you outside."
"Oh, Miss Moore," one of the officers murmured like a guilty child. "Well, we..."
"Detective Moore to you, Rogers," she replied, her posture radiating confidence. You and I both stared at her for a while, I noticed her tanned skin and thick curly hair, she was definitely Hispanic, the accent was also quite noticeable. "Can I confide in you at least once?" Officer Rogers looked at his partner, neither of them said a word, and that made the detective even more annoyed. "We'll talk about it later, now go."
The cops didn't dare protest, and soon they left. Now it was just you, me and Detective Moore in the interrogation room. The tension was palpable in the air, my hands were sweaty and shaking, I had to brush them off my open coat, but before I could, you caught one of them and squeezed it barely sensibly—I gasped, almost choking on my saliva.
After a brief examination of the documents, the woman across from us raised her brown eyes and smiled, not too friendly, but not too menacing either. "So, my name is Andrea Moore," she turned to look at you, holding a piece of paper in her hand. "I already know your name," her piercing gaze finally stopped on me. "May I have your documents, sir?"
Swallowing hard, I unlocked my briefcase to hand her my ID. "Yeah, sure."
"Mr. Bateman...have we met before?"
"No...I don't think so."
Andrea hummed to herself. "Well, I hope you brought your law license with you?" 
Your grip on my palm tightened, I almost let out a hysterical squeal. "I... I must have left it in my office."
"Listen," you suddenly spoke up, gesticulating as if you were at a school presentation. "I need to call my assistant, Vincent Eisenhower...he will help sort things out-"
"Wait a minute...did you say Vincent Eisenhower?" Andrea suddenly stopped you, obviously surprised.
"Uh, yeah, he's my assistant at the company I work-" 
"...in Chicago?" 
"Yes..." you replied in confusion. "Is there something wrong with that?"
The detective didn't answer, and it made me nervous as hell, but you holding my hand in a gentle manner was strangely comforting, even though I despised such displays of affection.
Looking puzzled, Andrea finally took the pen and a clean piece of paper. "Can you give me the number...I'll call Mr. Eisenhower and ask him for...a real lawyer. Mr. Bateman, I hope you understand the consequences of your actions-"
"Leave him alone, it's not his fault," you cut Andrea off before I could say anything in my defense. "He didn't know what he was doing coming here...please...he hasn't done anything bad...he's just going through a hard time in his life and..."
"Enough," the detective raised her hand in a halting gesture. "I hope I can reach out to Mr. Eisenhower....You two better pray for that."
Andrea left as abruptly as she had come. We were finally alone. Both confused, frightened, and lost.
"Why did you even come here?" You asked, not looking at me, but not parting our hands. "How stupid of you to come here and act like you were my lawyer."
"I HAD NO CHOICE!" I almost screamed, turning in my seat to cut the mere distance between us. "Not after you terrorized me with those damn phone calls..."
As I said that, time stood still for us and I could see the inner conflict in your deep, mesmerizing eyes—you were broken and lost just like me—I looked down at our intertwined hands, waiting for your answer.
"What calls, Patrick? What are you talking about?" 
"You know WHAT I'm talking about...don't try to fuck with my brain," I husked, inches from your lips. "You think this is funny, huh?" 
"And you think it's funny to call my office and tell my assistant about your suicidal intentions?" Your warm breath wafted pleasantly around my face as you moved closer. "You think it's funny to appear and disappear in my life like I'm a toy you can play with whenever you feel bored?"
At first I didn't answer. Instead, I just kept eye contact with you, then I lowered my eyes to our hands again—my palm was bigger than yours, this little detail always made my heart flutter. Did I ever think that such a small thing would stir such strong emotions in me? Probably not.
Definitely not.
"By the way, did you manage to find out anything about that machine you told me about?" I questioned abruptly, putting my arm around your shoulders. 
You frowned and chuckled in disbelief. Well, at least the tension was relieved.
"What machine?" You fidgeted in your seat as I pulled you closer. "Hey, don't change the subject..."
"A memory reboot machine," I crooned, leaning forward so our noses rubbed against each other. "If you're here... that means you probably didn't find it."
The urge to indulge in this moment, to follow the passionate momentum and just kiss these lips I'd been thinking about all along, was unbearable, but I didn't want to be the first to fall apart and drop my defenses.
"Maybe I never needed this machine," you replied, pressing your forehead against mine for a brief moment. "Because I never wanted to forget...you?"
Was it a question or a statement—we never knew as we both moved towards each other, my burning lips pressed against your soft ones as we shared the most desirable kiss I could ever imagine. Gasping into my mouth, you let go of my hand only to wrap both of them around my neck as you responded with no less favor than mine. It was so hot, so desperate, so tragic. And it was all mine— your pain, your anger, your hatred.
Because you were my salvation.
With precise deftness, I carefully tilted your head back a little to deepen the kiss, my arms eagerly but not persistently roving around your back, knowing every little detail of your body, every dent and bump. As much as I wanted to tell you how fucking perfect you were for me, I didn't want this kiss to end, but as if you could read my mind, you suddenly pulled me away a little too abruptly and roughly.
"God, I hate you..." you wept, covering your face so I couldn't see your tears. "I really... I really thought you were going to do something bad... I was afraid it was too late..."
I was at a loss, I didn't know how to react or what to say—everything about you confused me, made my brain overload with different thoughts about what you said and why—now was no exception.
"But I'm here now...in one piece," I decided not to touch you, my hand resting on the back of your chair, ready to hug you at any moment if it was needed. "You should understand that...if I really wanted to do this, no one would be able to stop me..." I whisper above your ear and place my hand on the back of your head, gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on the table. "Even you."
I knew that this confession would mean nothing, just like all my previous ones, but as soon as I said it, you raised your tear-stained eyes and whimpered. "Don't say that...don't fucking say that! You can be a total asshole, but that doesn't mean you deserve to die..."
"Darling," I gently brushed your stray locks from your face, trying to distract you and keep you from saying words that would only make things worse. "You know so little about me...but I don't want you to say something you'll regret..."
"I've already said too many things that I now regret," you replied, turning away from me. "Have you ever thought about your family and how they would react if something bad happened to you? Have you thought about Evelyn?"
My eyebrows knitted together, the words you said pierced my heart like sharp daggers, but I didn't want you to stop, because you were right, I was always selfish, but you knew so little about my family, who would surely be sad about the loss, but they would recover pretty quickly, since they still had Sean. And Evelyn? I would laugh if things were not so sad.
Trembling and sobbing, you still sat with your back to my face. "I'm not going to ask you for anything except to promise me that you'll never even think about...hurting yourself."
Oh, dear.
With a soft clink of my chair, I stood up and placed both of my hands on your trembling shoulders. "I promise... if you stay with me, I'll never look back... on my previous life." I felt your body tense under my touch. "We can't reboot the memory, but we can...reboot our lives?"
This was it—the moment I had fantasized about so many times, considering different outcomes, scenarios—I was waiting for your answer when the door creaked and Detective Moore appeared in my vision. She was much more cheerful than before, which worried me a bit.
"So," she took a seat, opened a folder with documents and wrote something on it. "I spoke to Vince, and luckily for you, he has already contacted your lawyer-"
"Vince?" You asked in shock, but at least you stopped crying.
Andrea stuttered and cleared her throat. "I mean..." she paused and twirled the pen in her hand. "It happened that Vincent and I used to know each other..."
What?
We were both speechless, how the hell could such a coincidence have happened? 
"Well... I really didn't see it coming..." You murmured, brushing the remnants of tears from your face.
"Neither did I," the detective chuckled curtly before resuming her work on some papers. "Listen, we should wait for the results of the fingerprint analysis, and while we wait, you are forbidden to leave the city. Please put your sign here."
"What is this?"
"Your ticket to freedom," she explained. "A street bail."
I saw you hesitate, so I gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and you looked at me, I simply nodded, and you placed the sign. 
"And how long have you known Vincent?" You asked after you handed the document back to Andrea. "Just asking."
"Since childhood, I think."
"Oh... that's... a lot."
"Vince has always been known for being a good boy..." the woman paused, coughing awkwardly. "Uh, you can talk to him about... that if you're interested." Andrea closed the folder and shifted her gaze to me. "And you, I highly recommend that you never do anything like this again."
"So you're not going to put me in a cell?" I replied in a slightly teasing manner.
"No...not this time. But the officer who allowed you to come here will be severely punished, maybe even fired," Andrea explained, getting up from her chair. "It's her first day at the police station, but she let a man go through without even checking his papers. Such violations are very serious."
And although I didn't feel sad for this woman I would probably never see again, I looked at you and your big doe eyes. "Maybe there's a way not to fire her? I assured her that I was a lawyer and...I could pay a fine if I had to."
Detective Moore said nothing, she just grinned and beckoned us to follow her.
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An hour later we finally left the police station. For some time we walked in complete silence, the surrounding commotion drawing out my shallow breathing, my mind overclocked with the search for topics to talk about after all the shit that had happened.
"So... where did you stay?" I asked casually, looking at you from above, your eyelashes shimmering in the sunlight. "In the Plaza?"
"No," you replied almost immediately. "Not the Plaza this time...it was all booked up."
"You were really in New York... for the whole time?"
"Depends on what time you mean exactly," your slight smile made me almost stumble, but I pretended to see someone familiar. "Maybe I haven't left New York at all?"
No, that can't be.
"You know, since you can't leave the city... maybe we should spend some time together and... you didn't answer my question."
My offer made you stall, and I followed suit. Passers-by walked past us, not paying attention even though we were standing in the middle of the street.
"Was it really a question?"
"And what do you think it was?"
"A plea?" You smiled and stepped closer to me until there was no space between us. "If you weren't so stubborn...everything could be so much easier."
"And YOU tell me that?" I let myself pull you closer to me. "I have an idea...fuck the place where you stopped! We should go to Newport."
"Newport? Would it count that I left New York?" you asked me a little shyly. "Do you have a house there or...?"
"My family has a house there and since they are out of town we can use it to kill time...have you ever been to Newport?" My hands rested possessively on your waist and before I knew it, I added. "Me and Evelyn are getting divorced..."
"No, I haven't," you replied, finally resting your hands on my shoulders. "But I really want to...since I've heard a lot of good things about this place..." then you suddenly froze. "What... What did you say? Are you kidding me? God, I can't believe this...I..."
You continued to bubble something that made me smile in amusement and I couldn't help but hold you tightly in my arms— the place you always belonged to, though I understood it too late. The fresh breeze of change swirled around us, playing with our hair and clothes. Yesterday I didn't know if I would make it to tomorrow, but today I was sure that there would be so many tomorrows because I wasn't alone anymore.
With you, for you, in your name—I was still alive and finally free.
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P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞
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hollybell51 · 2 years ago
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Don't bet on it
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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader
Supernatural (2005)
Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)
Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.
Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.
Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.
Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…
“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 
There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 
“(Y/N)?” 
Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 
“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 
Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 
“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 
“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 
He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 
You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 
“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 
“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 
“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 
Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 
You smiled. “Lemonade.” 
He nodded slowly.
“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 
He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 
“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 
“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 
Despite yourself, you laughed. 
Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 
You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 
“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 
“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 
“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 
You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 
“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 
Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 
Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 
“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 
“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 
“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 
You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 
But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 
“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 
“It is.” 
“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 
“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 
“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 
The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 
You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 
“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 
“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 
“No, we’ve got two singles.” 
“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 
“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 
“I know, but–” 
“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 
“What’s that supposed to–” 
He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 
You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 
By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 
“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 
Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 
You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 
“Would you like some help?” 
You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 
He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 
“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 
“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 
Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 
He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 
“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 
“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 
Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 
“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 
“Should I keep going?” 
You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 
“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 
“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 
He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 
“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”
Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 
You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 
“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 
He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 
His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 
Oh. Oh. There it was.
He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 
Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 
He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 
It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 
It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 
You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 
“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 
“Hm?”
You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 
“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 
He looked up, frowning. “What?” 
“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 
He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 
“Is this alright?” he asked. 
You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 
“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 
You nodded. “Are you?”  
He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 
Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 
“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 
“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.
“Hm?” 
“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 
“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 
He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 
Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 
You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 
“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 
“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 
“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 
He nodded. 
You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 
“Please,” he murmured. 
You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 
Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 
Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 
“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 
“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 
You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 
At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 
You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 
He stared. “Do you want to?” 
You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 
Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.
His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 
Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 
A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 
“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 
Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 
You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”
“Touch me?” 
“Mhm.”  
He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.
“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 
You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 
It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.
“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 
“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 
You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 
His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 
He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 
“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 
“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 
You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 
“But?”
“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 
His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 
“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 
“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 
“Mhm?” 
“Are you sure?” 
“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 
“Yeah, alright.” 
“Alright?” 
He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 
You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 
Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 
“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 
“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 
You smiled. “Magic word?” 
“Please,” he practically growled. 
Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 
“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 
“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  
“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 
The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 
“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 
You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 
“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 
“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 
“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 
For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 
He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 
You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 
Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 
As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 
Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 
“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 
“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”
“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 
He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 
Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 
“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?
You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 
He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 
“Is this alright?” he asked. 
You nodded. “Mhm.” 
“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 
“Mhm.” 
“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 
“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 
“I want you to feel–” 
You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 
“But I’m–” 
“Cas.” 
He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 
“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”
He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 
“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 
This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 
“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 
Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 
“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 
“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 
“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 
He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 
“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 
“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 
“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 
“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 
“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 
“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 
“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 
He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 
It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.
And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 
“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 
Cas froze immediately. 
“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 
“Is this not–” 
“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 
Cas frowned.
“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 
His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 
“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 
Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 
“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 
He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 
“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 
“I don’t want to squash you.” 
You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 
“How do you know?” 
“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 
He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 
You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 
“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 
“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 
You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.
You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 
“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 
“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 
He swallowed, his eyes dark. 
“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 
He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 
You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 
Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 
“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 
“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 
“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 
He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 
He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  
“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 
Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 
“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 
“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 
You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 
He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 
You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 
“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 
“Hm?” 
“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 
“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 
You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 
You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 
You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 
When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 
He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 
“What’s wrong?” you asked. 
“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”
Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 
After a moment, he nodded. 
It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 
“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 
Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 
“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 
You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 
“Should I not have?”
“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 
“You don’t?”
You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 
“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 
You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”
You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.
“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 
“Hello.” 
You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”
He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 
“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”
“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 
You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 
“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 
“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 
“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 
You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 
He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 
“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 
“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 
You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 
“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 
“What do you want?” you growled. 
“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 
“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 
He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 
You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 
He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 
“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 
“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 
“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  
“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 
“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 
You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”
Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 
“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 
“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 
You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 
“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 
Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 
“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 
“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 
Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 
“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 
He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 
Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 
“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 
“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 
Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 
“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 
“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 
Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 
“No? Who else?” 
Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 
Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  
“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 
It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 
“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 
“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 
“No, I mean–” 
You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 
“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 
“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 
Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 
“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 
Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 
“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 
“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 
You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 
“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 
You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 
“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 
“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 
“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 
Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 
“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 
“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 
You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 
“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 
Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”
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reiderwriter · 1 year ago
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♦️Pardon The Way That I Stare♦️
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Chapter 8 of That's What You Get
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Summary: After some encouragement from Emily and Penelope, you try to explain your reaction to Reid at work. Until you find yourself reacting to him more and more, distracting you from doing your job. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, Reader is just really horny for Reid (REAL). A/N: We're getting closer to the climax and I'm SO beyond excited for everyone to read the next chapter because I think it's going to be so good but also so evil and I enjoy that very much. If you like the series, let me know by dropping a message in the replies or in my inbox, and follow my other account @reiderslibrary for just fics from me without my random thoughts and bullshit in between... You can find masterlist here, and the series masterlist is linked here!
You were stupid, there was no other logical explanation for it. Staring at Emily on your doorstep as your brain stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, trying to process the words she’d just said to you, there was really only one thing running through your brain.
“I’m a fucking dumbass.” you groaned, your hands coming up to your head as you pondered your next move.
“There’s no chance that you’ll believe this was all just one practical joke that I’ve been playing to test how quickly you could turn up at my place with wine?” You looked up hopefully at Emily, and she returned with a concerned look of her own, that silently communicated ‘No, I wasn’t born yesterday.’
“Worth a shot, come on in.” You opened the door wider for Emily and grabbed a second glass from your kitchen to share the wine before she could start her interrogation.
“So,” she prompted as soon as you returned to the couch, and you sighed heavily as you nodded and began.
“I married Reid in Vegas.”
“Yes, I got that from the text, what I didn’t get was why, what, when, where, who, and how! Question words, Y/N, important information if you please.” You chuckled at Emily’s tone, and you melted a little into your couch. Just like with Penelope, letting others know had comforted you. You’d never been one to bottle up your emotions, and you couldn’t exactly tell Spencer how you felt about him, so your dearest FBI-assigned best friends were a welcome compromise.
“You promise not to tell anyone? Penelope knows, and so does Rossi, but no one else does. Well maybe someone else but I don’t know who that someone is - long story.” You rambled, still aware of the promise you’d made with Spencer, and knowing that you’d actually broken it twice now.
“Scouts honor, now get on with it.”
“You were never a scout.”
“That’s beside the point, Y/N, now spill!”
“Do you remember when we finished the case in Vegas last weekend, and we all wanted nothing more than to go home, but the jet was landed?” A small nod encourages you to continue. “Well, Reid offered to show me this bar that he thought I’d enjoy, and honestly, I’d had a tense phone call with my mom and was feeling a bit crappy, so I thought a drink wouldn’t hurt.”
“A drink might get you married though.” You glared at her at the interruption, and she held her hands up in surrender as you continued.
“The bar was amazing, and he noticed I was feeling down, and I don’t know, he just has this way of making me feel calm and fully together. I was a mess earlier that day, but with like one short conversation, he kind of turned my mood entirely around.” You flushed then and decided to ignore Emily’s next interjection.
“Oh god…”
“Apparently after that, we went to a casino or another bar or something, but honestly, I drank so much I don’t remember any of that. But at some point, we bought a very expensive engagement ring, made our way to the Bureau for Wedding Licences and then a chapel and now we’re legally married.” You tried to end your story there, but Emily wasn’t having that.
“No, you’re not stopping there. You said you kissed, and you ruined everything, and you mentioned a wedding night in that text, do not shortchange me now, Y/L/N. Wait, should I be calling you Reid now?” She grinned at the flush that coated your entire body with that, and you buried your head in your pillows.
“Okay, okay. Well, we’re trying to figure out who the witnesses to our wedding were. We know that two team members were there, and Penelope was one of them, but Spencer doesn’t know that yet. Again, another long story.” You let your words sink in as you realize the tangled mess you’d spun for yourself in the last week.
“We spent some time researching our options on Saturday night, to see if we could get our memories to come back and I might not have left until a couple hours ago?”
“Y/N! You’ve been banging Reid for the last three days?”
“No! No, nothing like that, we didn’t- well, we did just not at his house, but also I don’t think you want to hear about that.” You spilled all the details about your last few days with Reid, his touches, his care, the dates you’d been on, the way you’d wrapped yourself around each other in your sleep, but still woken up to an empty bed, all the way up to that fateful kiss and your stupid reaction.
“So there, I’ve ruined it.” Emily looked at you pityingly and started to say something when your doorbell rang a second time.
“That’s reinforcements,” Emily said, standing and moving to greet the newcomer herself. You were relieved when Penelope Garcia came marching through the door, ice cream in hand and mouth already moving.
“Have no fear, your guardian angel is here. Emily texted me en route and I disentangled myself from my plans with a now very suspicious Derek Morgan to race over here. I think I managed to throw him off the scent by mentioning my ukelele lessons with Sam though, he always kinda glazes over whenever I go into heavy details about that.” She perches herself on the couch beside you and starts organizing things on the table, pulling out three tubs of ice cream and locating adequate spoons in the drawer.
“Pen, you didn’t have to do all this…”
“Yes, I did. Emily tell her I did. I need all the details that you suddenly remembered Y/N or I’m going to go crazy, and let me tell you, I am not an effective tech analyst when my mind is all aflutter with wonder.” You smiled awkwardly at the situation. You’d glossed over the details of your wedding night with Emily, going no further than insinuating that you’d had sex, but now the pressure was on.
“We just want to help you, Y/N. And we’re morbidly curious.” Emily joined in. Both of their eyes were trained on you in a hopeful expression, leaving the ball firmly in your court as you fought down the embarrassment rising from the back of your throat.
Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.
“I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” was all you managed to squeak out before they were reacting, asking twenty questions each in the space of a minute as your body both caught fire at the memory and shrunk down to the size of an ant at the attentions.
“Calm down, calm down, I’ll tell you more but you have to calm down.” They stilled themselves and bit their tongue, and you continued.
“Well I don’t want to get into the, uh, specific details, but let’s just say that he’s very good at putting theory into practice. That or he’s actually very experienced in sex and nobody ever realized, because the things he was doing were like, expert-level maneuvers. I didn’t think I was that flexible until he was hitting from-”
“OKAY not that much detail, this is still Reid we’re talking about.”
“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly and decided to spare them all the details. “All I’ll say is that we both finished multiple times. And I might have stupidly let him finish inside of me.”
“Y/N, you should know better! Safe sex is really important, especially if you’re fucking in a hotel room in Vegas.” Emily half-chastised you, but you could hear the humor in her voice and just rolled your eyes.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly having sex with a stranger, I was having sex with my husband.” That got you a teasing cooing from the two women and you buried your face in your hands again.
“So he’s your husband now, is he? How long have you been married? Like three days?”
“Five. Fuck, we’re running out of time.” The length of time that had elapsed since you’d walked down the aisle shocked you as soon as you’d acknowledged it, and you downed your glass of wine as your brain ran rampant.
“Rossi said that if we didn’t tell everyone in a week, he’d do it for us so we didn’t lose our jobs, and we need to file for an annulment soon so we don’t have to get a divorce but there’s like… a one week window, and it’s already been five days. Shit. shit shit shit shit.”
“Hold on, Y/N, you said he kissed you earlier today, right? I wouldn’t exactly recommend getting married and then dating your partner, but it sounds like you both at least like each other enough to pursue this relationship, why would you need an annulment?” Emily’s confusion only served to remind you of the reason they were both here in the first place.
“That’s the problem. I think he thinks I don’t like him like that. And it’s totally my fault that he thinks that, because when he kissed me I didn’t react well and then he just left, and I think I ruined everything.”
“Define not reacting well,” Emily probed further.
“I pushed him away and slammed the door in his face. But that was only because I remembered everything that happened between us on our wedding night, and remembering the most satisfying experience of your entire existence while face-to-face with the man who you’d hitherto never thought capable of that, and having it occur in like 0.02 of a second is a paralyzing experience.”
“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” Penelope whispered from her side of the couch and you nodded heartily in agreement.
“And what, he just left?” Emily asked again, tone incredulous with all the information she was receiving.
“Well when I’d had my moment and realized what I’d done, I opened the door again and he wasn’t there. And that was only like a minute later. He messaged me this after he left.” You grabbed your phone and opened it up, showing the girls the message and noting their winces in reaction to his words.
“It’s bad, right?”
“No! No, this is salvageable! You just have to… be brave?” Penelope didn’t seem to believe her own words as you pulled your phone back and poured yourself another glass, ready to drown your sorrows once again. Emily was a little more confident.
“Okay. Here’s what you do. I’m going to talk to Rossi for you tomorrow morning at work, get him to hold off on his big reveal while you go and explain everything to Spencer. How does that sound?”
“That sounds doable, I guess.” You sniffled a little, rereading the text having made your emotions jump back up to the surface again as you fought off tears.
“Brilliant. And then you can stay married and continue having wonderful sex, and make some genius babies and make me their godmother.” You threw a pillow at Penelope that she was just too slow to catch, and filled the rest of your evening with wine, ice cream, and good company.
–X–
Emily sends you a thumbs-up text after she talks to Rossi the next morning, and a weight falls off your shoulder. One step down, one to go right?
You’d arrived at work probably a little bit too early, having spent the night tossing and turning and playing every possible outcome in your mind over and over again. It had been half an hour before the next person turned up, and Hotch had only given you a confused half-nod in greeting before secluding himself in his office. Rossi had been the next to arrive, about twenty minutes later, and he too had questioned your presence but not in so many words.
“Early morning, Y/N? Settling into new routines in your newly-wed life, are we?” You’d stuttered out an answer but he was halfway up the stairs by the time you finished, obviously meaning the comment to be rhetorical.
Morgan, Emily, and JJ were all next, showing up only a few minutes before your shift officially started, but there was no sign of Reid, and you were running out of time - and privacy - to talk to him.
Then at 9 sharp the elevator doors opened, and from your seat at your desk, you watched him step out, feeling your tongue grow thick and your heart beat faster as he made his way into the office. This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel, this was cartoonish like a teenage boy in a brat pack movie watching the hottest girl in the school walk down a corridor. This was Spencer, your husband, and your best friend, and here you were feeling giggly and shy.
You almost felt like texting Emily back, telling her if you started giggling and twirling your hair, to take you out back and put you out of your misery.
He didn’t make eye contact with you as he settled into his morning routine, pulling off his scarf, putting his bag away, and then moving to the kitchen to fill up on his morning coffee. You did your best to covertly follow him, trying not to alert the others to your heart eyes as you looked at him and forgot everyone else.
“Spencer, can we talk?” You blocked off the entry to the kitchen as he spun around to face you, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.
“Sure, Y/N, what’s up?” His voice didn’t betray any of his emotions, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you could tell you’d hurt him the day before. You took a deep breath and walked closer to him as he continued making his coffee, again refusing to look you in the eyes as he continued as normal.
“It’s about yesterday-”
“We probably shouldn’t talk about this here, right?” He cut you off in a whisper, his voice sending shivers down your spine as you gripped the countertop beside him for support. You’d gotten closer than you expected at first, somehow magnetically drawn to him, your body language just as open to him as he was closed to you.
“I think we need to, Spence. I’m sorry, I panicked.”
“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done that-”
“Spencer I got my memory back.” His eyes widened and he blossomed in front of you again, attention entirely on you now as he took in your words.
“You did?”
“Partially, only the… Only the memories of your hotel room.” His eyes darkened in understanding, moving unconsciously closer to you, placing a hand next to yours on the counter as he effectively trapped your body in.
“Oh. Those memories.”
“Yeah. So you can see why I was a bit distracted.” He nodded at your words, but he was still coming closer to you now. Your body felt weak underneath you, entirely reacting to his closeness, the warmth rolling off his body, the electricity sparking between you despite him not touching you anywhere.
“Distracted?” His eyes darted to your lips as he grew closer, and your legs chose that exact second to give in underneath you.
Your knees hit the ground uncomfortably, as he reacted to your sudden movement, trying to grab you and pull you up, but only managing to grab the hand that was already holding the counter above you, awkwardly twisting and pinning your arm up.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry, I think… I think I should go,” you were face to face with his crotch, and looking up at him in that position was certainly giving you unwholesome thoughts. He jumped back as you scrambled out from underneath him, begging whatever god was out there that none of the profilers you worked with would question the dazed state that would follow you for the rest of the day.
–X–
Despite your need to straighten things out with Spencer, you’d avoided him for the rest of the day, and, having been called out on a case, you spent the better part of the week avoiding him as well. After literally falling for him, you’d decided that maybe in your newly weakened lovesick stage, it was best for everyone on the team that you try to stay as clear-headed as possible.
Not everyone on the team, though, agreed. He’d trailed after you like a lost puppy for days now, and you wanted nothing more than to give in and throw yourself in his arms. But there was a murderer on the loose and you needed to give your entire attention to it.
He’d tried multiple times to get you to help him with some work, suggesting that you go through some files together, or check out one of the witnesses together, much to your discomfort. Luckily, Hotch had picked up on some of the discomfort between the two of you and had kept you somewhat apart, not asking questions.
But the last night on the case, he’d cornered you, and you had to work twice as hard to extricate yourself from the situation.
“Y/N, why are you avoiding me?” He’d caught you alone in the hotel lobby, pulling you into a dark corner without much foot traffic to confront you. “Is it because of the kiss? Because the way you talked about getting your memories back the other day made me think we were okay about that again, but if we’re not then I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not the kiss, Spence, and we really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You tried to turn and leave, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you back into him, bodies pressed flush up against each other now.
“Spencer let go, someone could see us.” Even you knew your voice sounded half-hearted, not really wanting him to stop touching you at all.
“If it’s not the kiss, then why are you acting like I don’t exist?” His face was close again, and you felt your body reacting the same way it had done in the staff kitchen. Your knees went weak again, but he was prepared this time, holding you up in his arms, gently maneuvering you so you were pinned against the wall.
“Is this it?” He asked, letting his hands trail over your body as you whimpered under his touch. “Your reactions?”
Your brain was empty of a response, so you just held still, desperate to see what he would do or say next.
“You know, the deadline on our annulment has passed. It’s been over a week now,” he said, his forehead resting on yours as he brought his hips ever closer.
You were the one that gave in first, pushing your head up to capture his lips in a crushing kiss, needing him the way you needed water, food, and sleep. You’d deprived yourself for so long, and now you were hungry, ravenous, and he was the same. Your lips opened, and soon his tongue was snaking in, caressing you in ways both familiar and new, and your entire body heated up to its boiling point.
You moaned under his touch as his hands wandered, silently begging for more of him. Your brain only kicked back into gear when you registered the sound of voices about to turn the corner. Quickly pushing him off, you pulled yourself together just as JJ and Morgan found you there.
“Y/N, Reid, Garcia got a positive ID on our unsub, we’re about to go SWAT his house, get your gear ready.”
Either you were very good at masking your emotions and the physical outburst you’d just shared, or Morgan was just too caught up in getting his job done that he didn’t look too closely at the way Reid’s tie was half undone, your lips were pink and swollen and that both of you were breathing abnormally. Whichever it was, you were just thankful that neither of them questioned you as you all left to go and do your job.
–X–
To your detriment, you’d avoided him on the jet back as well, choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and sit in a single seat at the end of the plane rather than risk his hands on you again like last time. You already couldn’t be trusted around him, and you wanted to take no risks with everyone else present.
He’d sat in your line of vision purposefully though, making eye contact every now and then to remind you that he was still watching you. You’d feigned exhaustion and pretended to sleep in the end, despite the flight duration only being a measly two hours. He’d let you exit the plane alone though, and said a general goodbye to the team upon landing, giving you a second look and wave before taking himself home.
The ball was firmly in your court.
“What the hell was all that?” Emily whispered in your ear as you both watched him leave alone. “What happened to the plan?” You smiled awkwardly, not wanting to admit how fucking horny the man made you feel, and how it was affecting your work performance so badly that avoiding him was the only way to keep your job.
“We had the talk, everything’s fine.”
“The two of you aren’t walking out of here hand in hand, so obviously everything is not fine, Penelope, tell me I’m wrong.” The other woman had stumbled into the bullpen upon landing and Emily had immediately drawn her into your hushed conversation as soon as Morgan had made to go home as well.
“What’s going on, hot stuff, I thought you’d be enjoying every second of your marital bliss by now.”
“He’s too distracting.” You whisper shouted at him. “He kissed me again last night and I almost let him take me in the lobby. And Morgan and JJ almost caught us, so yeah, he’s too distracting.”
“Oh god, you’re horny for Reid.” Emily laughed slightly at the implication as if it had just dawned on her and you hadn’t had an entire conversation where you fawned about how good in bed he was.
“Yes, I’m horny for Reid, okay, now please stop laughing, I’m in pain.”
“Well you know there’s only one solution, right?” Penelope said as if it were clear as day. “You need to go have sex with him again. See if you can be normal with him when you’re not so pent up.”
“I don’t know, Pen….” You were still staring at the elevator doors, even after it had been so long since he’d left.
“What is there to not know? You like him, he likes you, you’re married. Like you said before, it’s not like you’re having sex with a stranger, he’s your husband.” Having your words thrown back in your face gave you the boost of confidence that you needed, and you sprang from your chair.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Emily repeated and you looked back down at the two women.
“Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go seduce my husband, I guess?” You turned on your heel and left, marching out to the sounds of whoops and cheers from the two women behind you.
🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee
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starguardianniom · 4 months ago
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Billy and Lighter
I love their dynamic so much.
Freaking Lighter of all people sees Billy as his worthy rival.
Ngl but I legit think it's because Billy is the only one he can fight without being afraid of passing out.
Given Lighter faints at the sight of blood and that Billy is an android, if Billy gets hurt he will probably leak oil, but no blood, which is perfect for Lighter.
I honestly, half-seriously thinks that's the sole reason Lighter considers Billy is rival, because he won't risk embarassing himself if he manages to hurt Billy while fighting as Billy has no blood for him to faint to.
But he also does respect him given he thinks highly of him and actually likes him like a brother too.
They playfully tease one another but you can also clearly see that Lighter has a high opinion of Billy and is also happy for him to have found happiness somewhere else too, and that's so wholesome, my heart.
I was pratically screaming of joy in my head the entire time yesterday when I speedrun the chapter (I had the day off lucky me so I used it to clear out chapter 4 entirely yeah!).
I took so many pictures, will upload them this weekend, now I need to go do that certification exam to get my people to level 50, given I need to level up pretty much everyone I have right now (Billy, Anby, Nicole, Corin, Soukaku, Ben, Anton, Seth, Jane and Lucy are the characters I currently have the game refuses me Piper and just sended me a lil army of Corins, Anby and Soukaku, now I have Anby and Soukaku to M4 and Corin to M3, though it gave me Billy M2 and Seth M2 thank god) I'll be at it for a while.
But honestly I expected Lighter to be a bit more mean toward Billy and feeling superior to him but it seems like I was worried for nothing, Lighter loves Billy and Billy loves him back, though I'm pretty sure Billy also thinks that he wasn't able to escape Lighter entirely given he now has Anby around. XD Lighter keeps forgetting things and Anby keeps forgetting the line between fiction and reality, I imagine Billy must be used to Anby because he had to spend half his time reminding Lighter of stuff all the time. XD
I swear Billy had it better than Lighter back then, given he was the Champion that means he was the strongest of the Sons of Calydon, which means he's stronger than Big Daddy, and Big Daddy is most likely the one who raised and taught Caesar how to fight, so if she didn't get the title of Champion back then, then Billy was most likely strong enough to beat her too and Big Daddy. But then he left. But he also got to meet Lighter before that, but Lighter is weaker than Caesar but still has the title for some reason, so it's a bit murky there as to why they needed 2 champions.
I think Billy wanted to leave or something happened that made him leave and then Big Daddy brought in Lighter to pick up his title but Billy sticked around long enough to make sure Lighter was up for the job given they have a good brotherly friendly rivalry relationship together so once Billy thought Lighter was ready he gave him his title and left. And then Caesar got to be the new boss of the Sons of Calydon when Big Daddy retired, and was strong enough that she was able to beat Lighter apparently.
But the title of Champion is basically being the number 2 of the gang, so if the leader isn't around it's most likely the champion calling the shots and making sure everything is alright and settling disputes and what nots, but since Lighter is pretty scatterbrained, most of the duties went to Lucy while Lighter is just now extra muscles, since Lucy is pretty much the one making sure everything is alright and being the brains of the Sons, but she clearly doesn't have the strenght to be the Champion because Lighter is the one with that title.
So I imagine Billy used to handle negotiations and relations and other stuff with Big Daddy before he left and probably used to be deadly efficient, in some parts of the story he is a lot more aware and shrewd than he presents himself most of the time, such as asking us about the H.D.D and asking why we'd bother to be proxies when we could have done so much more and get a much more lucrative job, or when he was ready to sell us out to PubSec to save the Cunning Hares and himself pointing out that the Cunning Hares could get their record cleaned if they reported a proxy, which was a very smart way of thinking given their situation back then. He is also knowledgeable about the Outer Ring, so he is way much smarter than he acts too.
I do feel like Billy is seen as a superior predecessor to Lighter and while Lighter doesn't resent Billy at all for it he also feels the need to prove himself to him in some way to live up to his "brother's" legacy.
Lucy probably didn't have much to do until Billy left and Big Daddy retired. Then she basically became the second half of the Champion title in the Sons of Calydon, being the brain to Lighter's brawn, but Billy before them had the title on his own to the point that he is still feared today by other people in the Outer Ring.
It does beg the question of what was Billy like back then, probably less happy and more brutal and having the mindset of a weapon maybe, but he was still cared for a lot.
I also like to think that Big Daddy called him Billy Kid because he honestly saw Billy as "his" kid when he bought him from a group of drifters, now I really want the whole story, if they release Big Daddy and Lighter, give them more content with Billy, I need more, Hoyo!
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genericpuff · 7 months ago
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wait wait wait, regarding that Minthe post, you're telling me that Rachel literally wrote the character as having BPD.....and portrayed her as an abusive mean piece of shit??? WOW. fucking WOW. sorry for being so angry, but even if she "retconned" that - it's still so god damn disrespective. as someone who has BPD it hurts so much to see my mental illness villanised :(
ugh I'm so sorry pal. and I don't blame you for being angry about it, like I don't even have BPD and I'M fucking pissed LOL like I can understand why Rachel might have wanted to backtrack from that knowing fully well that Minthe's story wasn't gonna have a happy ending, but writing her with BPD in the first place and then BACKTRACKING from it as soon as she likely got heat for it (or just realized it wasn't a good look) isn't much better because it means now all she's done is written the stigmatized negative effects of BPD into her character without showing the more positive outlooks of healing and managing. Maybe that was doomed to happen considering Minthe is someone who doesn't get a happy ending in the myths, but it begs the question of why she'd write her with BPD to begin with because in hindsight it really does seem like she just wanted to use it as a way to make her "evil".
But like, when you read the actual episode, you can SEE the potential there for character growth, you can SEE that she's aware of her actions - but doesn't understand why she's "like that" which is a VERY common feeling among people with undiagnosed mental illnesses - but it was never meant to be.
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Like jfc not only is it HEAVILY IMPLIED, but again, the episode is literally called "Splitting". And we see exactly that with Minthe, who can't seem to rationalize with herself that she messed up.
But... that leads me to another point that I failed to mention in that first ask response: she DIDN'T mess up. Like, yes, she messed up by escalating it to the point of slapping Hades, but it wasn't her fault that she didn't make it to her date with Hades. Whose fault was it?
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Continuously throughout the first season we see Thetis being an awful influence who manipulates and gaslights Minthe. They're "friends", but it's clear Thetis does not have Minthe's best interests in mind. In this very scene we see Thetis manipulate Minthe and even attempt to get her so drunk that she won't be able to show up to her date. And then of course when that plan works and Minthe freaks out, Thetis spins it around on Minthe in a very passive-aggressive way.
But of course, the narrative has to find a way to turn this whole thing on Minthe being the bad guy. Hence we get the slap which shifts the focus entirely away from what led up to it back onto Hades who has, in a lot of ways, put her in a situation that she can't control. And of course, being in those kinds of situations does not help with mental health.
Like, sorry, I'm really going off here now, but... the slap happens in Episode 76.
When is it finally addressed again? Episode 103.
It took Rachel nearly THIRTY EPISODES to finally bring it back to Minthe, and in that time the reader has spent SEVERAL EPISODES reading about how sad and lonely Hades is, and about how cute and lovey he is with Persephone. The reader has not had ANY time to reflect on Minthe's circumstances, because it completely pivots away from her to focus on H x P as a sort of distraction from the fact that Minthe is a victim in her own right.
And when it DOES return to Minthe in 103, we get this harrowing reminder that her entire life is dependent on Hades-
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And once again, here comes Thetis to the "rescue", reinforcing the negative feedback loop that Minthe is trapped in where she's put in unhealthy situations. She drags her to a bar and the whole time Minthe is not having fun because she's understandably still reeling from what happened.
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Now we DO get some character development here, where Minthe realizes exactly what I've just finished explaining, that Thetis isn't her friend, that she'd rather not have Thetis as a friend than continue being talked down to and manipulated.
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But then, as we know, because Rachel still needs Minthe to be the "bad guy", the breakup between Hades and Minthe winds up being all about Persephone from a POV that attempts to villainize Minthe for being "jealous" (rather than focusing on how shitty Hades actually is for having an emotional affair with Persephone to begin with) and then Minthe goes right back to hanging out with Thetis anyways for the sake of having the "evil other girl" who wants to "ruin" H x P's relationship.
It's not until Season 3 that we finally see Minthe tell Thetis to fuck off for good, but by then it's too little too late, and Minthe has lost an entire character arc. Rachel tries to go "see! Minthe's life is so much better now that she's taking care of children!" but that's an entirely different solution to a problem Minthe never had. She never got treatment for her BPD. She just got away from H x P which, while is a good thing, isn't actually analyzed as such. It's treated more as a "good thing" for H x P and the readers, because now they don't have to be subjected to Minthe's evil scheming anymore, something something "the evil is defeated". And don't even get me started on this comic's problem with constantly resolving female characters' story arcs through motherhood.
It bums me out so fucking much. Minthe deserved so much better. She's one of the many characters in LO who make it so painfully ironic when they're done dirty, because despite Rachel's attempts to write a "feminist retelling" that focuses on "moving on from trauma", she's inadvertently done more damage to feminism and the stigmas around mental health and trauma through her assassination of grounded and realistic and relatable characters like Minthe and Demeter who are shown ZERO empathy or understanding for their actions (unless it can be done so by making Persephone and Hades into the heroes). It happens so often throughout the comic it almost feels like how the comic markets itself as a "progressive feminist retelling" is some sick joke that I'm just not getting.
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yayll · 5 months ago
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Could you maybe write smth up. About literally spoiling Dazai. Because i want to sit him down on the couch and kiss his pretty fucking face and buy him everything he even glances at.!! Hold his hand on walks, take him to like roooftops to stargaze and stuff and just stare at his PRETTY AHH FACE instead. Kiss his forehead goodnight!!! Cook him stuff and cuddle him and kiss him (again)!!!!....
Im lonely and past the point of no return sorry shdkhdkfjf
HIIII there, angel! i'm so sorry this took me a bit, but umm... i kind of went insane with this concept i read your ask and i immediately just blacked out because oh do i feel the same way about this god forsaken man.. and HEAVY on the spoiling. ahh, i hope it's to your liking, and i hope it makes u feel less lonely :') it was such a pleasure to write my first request xx
~ a little something about cherishing Dazai on days he needs it the most ~
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Spoiling Dazai. Now there's something you can proudly admit to being happily guilty of. You couldn't count the times you've held him for hours after a terrible day at work, or made sure he had more than just canned crab and a few bottles of Sake. You'd do anything for him to be comfortable in his own skin, and you want to make sure he knows how much you adore him... that he knows he's allowed to take up space in the world too. You're also aware that he would rather die than to ever elaborate on the vague and dismissive little comments he makes about the debilitating weight of all of his past mistakes, the ones that make him resentful and tired when it really gets to him, but that never deters you.
You've put the pieces together long enough to understand that it's not easy being Osamu Dazai, no matter what silly mask he puts on for the world. He hasn't always been a good person, an exemplary man, and you're more than well aware of that. Still, he doesn't have to be the jester who's always entertaining the masses at his own expense.
You remind him that he isn't cursed forever, that he IS worthy of flesh and blood, and when you kiss him it's like you're absolving him of all sins... you make him new again. He is utterly bewitched by you and you feel it in the way he comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder, squeezing your waist just enough to let you know your warmth is the reason his own blood circulates. Or when he whispers the most silliest and unhinged things in your ear late at night so you'll curl up those precious lips into a smile... Just for him. He gets off on the happiness he gives you, simple as that. He already feels he doesn't deserve to hold on to such a good life, but he's nothing if not defiant, and he'll squeeze out every little bit of love within that void of a heart for as long as you'll have him.
But... Today is your turn to love him so much it actually hurts, It's what he gets for being a menace 24/7! That is why you chose to make sure he has an extra special day today, by bringing him out of his comfort zone with a... mystery date!
"Oh? And to what do I owe the pleasure of being courted by such a beautiful creature such as yourself on this fine day?"
Dazai sips on his tea, eyes narrowing as they peer at you from the teacup curiously. You flash him a cheeky grin, already plotting your mission to make him so flustered he can't even look at you later.
"I thought we could go out somewhere and spend some time outside... Since we've both been so busy lately. Wouldn't that be nice?"
He raises a brow, and gives you a knowing smile back. Dazai's freakishly omnipotent in that way, and it's one of the many reasons you can never truly know if your surprises land or not.
"Mmm, it could be. Where to, my love?"
"... It's a secret."
He then pretends something has hit his chest, and he grips it, dramatically throwing himself back onto the chair causing his tea to flop about in the teacup.
"Oh my, is today the day you finally take me out and end it all?! I don't know if I can take the deceit, the absolute betrayal... What an occasion-"
You cut him off with your index finger as you place it right on his lips, zipped tight and his eyes burn into you, waiting for your next words. He eats this shit up.
"Shush! Let's go."
And with that, you grab your coats and zoom out and into the day. It's one of those days where It's cloudy, but the sun still peaks out just enough to send down warm rays of light. As you walk hand in hand, you see the way those very rays hit Dazai's side profile in the most devastating way.
You want to take a photo but you don't want to ruin the moment, so you quickly tip toe and peck him on the cheek, causing him to abruptly stop in his tracks. He blinks for a few seconds, still facing forward, and you swear you can see the highs of his cheeks turn red. You end up tugging him to follow you to the park, smiling to yourself in triumph as he recovers.
You walk to a quiet part, and plop yourselves down next to each other on the soft grass. Still holding hands, you rub your thumb in circles over his bandaged fingers, silently looking up at the cloudy sky. Finally, Dazai is the one to break the silence.
"Love used to always be an empty four letter word to me, but you..."
He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard as he tries to feign composure.
"... You are, by far, my greatest love, and my most beloved weakness altogether."
You were supposed to be the one to sweep him off his feet today, now your vision is blurry and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You slowly sit up, and look down at him, noticing that his eyes are closed. He looks like a sleeping beauty. Your chest aches, and you wonder if this is the same type of ache he lives with on the daily. You murmur, studying the way his messy bangs frame his face, and his expression unreadable.
"That's not fair, Osamu..."
"You sound so pretty when you say it like that... Osamu."
You swallow hard, and curse him in your mind for being the man that he is. For being all you've ever yearned for. You look down at your watch, and check the time, heart beating wildly.
Thump, Thump, Thump.
"... It's fifteen till 5."
"Mm, why does that matter?" Dazai purrs as he squeezes your hand, eyes still closed.
"It always matters. Any time with you matters. You matter, Osamu."
You spend the rest of the evening nuzzled into one another, whispering secrets and trying to name constellations and giggling when you can't figure them out. He lets you kiss him silly, his eyes closed the entire time while you also toy with his hair and the nape of his neck; where you smooth over the soft fabric of his bandages and his skin, giving him goosebumps. Your touch is a sensory heaven. He's dreaming of you while awake. You'll always wake him up from the nightmares, from what cannot be undone.
When it gets too cold to stay out, you head back home and cook him whatever he asks for as he rests his chin on his palm, gazing at you with those unreadable dark eyes... always thinking too much. Always somewhere else. This time, however, you could tell he was present. He would eat sewage if you poured it for him with that loving manner of yours. You finally crawl into bed together, and Dazai cradles your face in between his hands, facing you. He mumbles, so soft.. so tender. It's a tone only you get to hear.
"It really is selfish of me to think I can have this and more."
"Desire isn't bad, Osamu."
"Mm, no, I suppose not. But it's not always wise to have desire, not for someone like me. I can't afford that."
You hear the genuine ache in his voice, and you lean in to kiss his forehead, a gentle kiss that stays planted for a few seconds before you pull back.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing, love?~" He whispers, his voice a little strained as he looks at you with those eyes, those beautiful and endless orbs of cosmic proportions that are going to consume you one day. Hopefully.
"I think so. I'm being selfish."
You smile faintly, and you proceed to make sure that you end the night the way he deserves, the way you wanted to spoil him.
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elkian · 1 month ago
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More about GGG's finale and core plot (that is, BIG SPOILERS BELOW)
One recurring trend is loneliness. King's actions help connect people, and our protagonist continues in her footsteps, but the loneliness of the characters who play antagonists is especially notable.
The God Awards (which I've mentioned before, the whimsy of them made me totally blip over the red flags and implications) mention Inspekta doing everything for them. What would they be without him, Capochin asks?
"Lonely!"
Inspekta gathered the lonely hearts together. Gave them purpose. Gave them a charismatic leader to follow.
Saul is one of the most antagonistic non-Bizzy humans, and a recurring refrain in Milldread is how lonely everyone is. How gatherings are now somehow either discouraged or outright illegal (hmm, wonder whose idea that was). In fact, most of the Milldread citizens only have good or at least compassionate things to say about him.
(Sometimes I feel like the antagonists are shown a little much compassion given the way this plot goes, but it is also important to remember that deprogramming cultists etc. is based around showing compassion and reminding them that the world is not innately hostile to them. And there's only so much a single game can say in the span of a few hours, so, like, I get it.)
In fact, you have to insult Saul twice to progress in Milldread. How do you do this?
One, you get a dog to make a dog noise, and Saul loses it and comes over to harass the dog (and fail).
Two, after this point, he'll say that he "hates that shaggy little man". This is the line you need to give Budd to progress. When he asks for an insult levied at Saul, you can travel the town... and find that everyone has good things to say about him. He's misled, he's actually very sweet, his friends miss him.
It's very telling that the only way to effectively insult Saul to Budd is to use his own words to do it. Even writing this, I realize that this also implies a bit of a persecution complex with Saul - the people around him don't hate him, or even think he's particularly incompetent. They're worried about him. They understand that he's stressed. He was lead astray by a bad element but he snaps out of it (with help) in time to rejoin his community.
And speaking of throwing words back in faces...
Capochin shows a pretty regular skill for recognizing voices when you fling words at him - it's funny, because a lot of people in this game don't, so he's an outlier and that's amusing. In the battle against him, it means you have to work around him - you can't use his own words against him directly.
Instead, you put words in "Inspekta"'s mouth and bring that to Capo.
He shows an awareness, to a level, that this isn't really Inspekta talking. But this realization is a long time coming, and he can't repress it anymore. He can't deny reality when it's thrown in his face, when he's all alone, when nobody wants to work with him anymore. When even his god is only using him, spending more time with the Godpoke, leading him astray.
The Bizzyboys (and Hector; Yugo Limbo said that all of them come from Drain, hence them looking alike(?) ) evoke a very specific type of person, to me: the incel. Or at least, something adjacent. They're all referred to as "he" as Bizzys (I'm of a mind that Bizzyboys are all he/him while Bizzy, as, like, an honorary gender, mostly because it's just a silly idea; though in retrospect it also meshes with the enforced similarity situation). They're all lonely. They've banded together under a mutual purpose, but they don't really support each other.
And when they start to, between Hobbyhoo and BuzzHuzz? When they begin to collaborate, talk about taking a break from all this fash shit "investigating"?
Capochin shuts them down. Hard.
And Patty says he's scared of Capochin, but the other Bizzies say he would never hurt any of them. But when Capochin blows his top, all of them get really timid.
Capochin not getting involved in the violence until there's literally no one else to hide behind is so cliche that it almost just seems like a joke, until I took in the rest of the story.
Playing this game makes me think a lot of Fallout: New Vegas, a game where you can also destroy fascism and avert a cataclysm as a vaquero-themed courier.
One thing that becomes achingly clear in FNV is how the Legion is a cult of personality: it's not just the Legion, it's Caesar's Legion. Legate Lanius is terrifying, yes, but nobody talks about him as a leader so much as a warrior. Once Caesar dies, it seems obvious to me that the entire thing is going to crumple like a house of cards. Caesar didn't leave any backup plans, any true heirs, because the whole thing was his vanity project. There's no point to the Legion without Caesar, and he never once considered that there should be.
Inspekta and the Bizzyboys work very similarly. The whimsy and goofiness of the setting, which we also see in Smile For Me, lead me to miss some major red flags (I am also just. very dense.), which is a known problem in real fascism - the use of cutesy facades to cast absurdity on any claims of propaganda.
Anyways. My point is that the Bizzyboys seem at first to be a group, but are really more underlings in a cult of personality. Everything falls apart when faith in the system - in Capochin, in Inspekta - is lost. And Capochin is the Joshua Graham to Inspekta's Caesar; both of them culpable, both of them seeming in charge, with Capochin primed to take the fall as soon as things go wrong. But he volunteered for that! He wanted to be Inspekta's #1! The right-hand chump! The prime goon! He's getting everything he ever worked for, so don't question the system, Capo, because that's the same as doubting Inspekta. And doubting Inspekta means you're not a good Bizzyboy. Means you're ungrateful. Means that maybe what you have should go to someone who'll appreciate it.
They literally have their names stripped away - and I think the constant belittling and name-withholding of Patty, who genuinely displays real competence and intelligence at points if you pay attention, is a deliberate ploy. You don't want to be like P. You don't want to be a failure. Look at you, earning your letters! You almost have a full name! Not like that loser at the bottom of the barrel. You're a real winner, here.
And you, P? You need to try harder. Look how Alexei has his whole name back for doing hardly anything! How can you fail to get even a single letter back, compared to him? When Patty asks for his name back in Milldread, Capochin mentions solving mysteries - mysteries of "what does Capochin want for lunch", etc. It's silly, but it's also sinister. It's the most overtly self-centered bit of Bizzy lore we get for maybe the whole game. Capochin outright says he comes first and we laugh because of the delivery.
(The videos are fantastic, because they really set up the reveal in a lot of both subtle and unsubtle ways. Even the very first video, where Capochin insults Patty for asking a scripted question, before moving into the answer, is foreshadowing for the constant emotional abuse all of the Bizzys and Patty in particular are subjected to. There's probably much more I'm forgetting.)
Under the whimsy and humor of the game is a very real statement about cults and fascism and the kinds of people they recruit, and how they do it. They amplify the concerns of the disenfranchised and alone, people who have difficulty connecting with a community. They give those people somewhere to belong, ideals to uphold, and targets to gang up on.
Anyways. Good game.
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