#and it feels so small but then also I could straight up lose my job | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aayakashii · 4 months ago

Text

Part three to the story! You can read part 1 here, and part 2 here.

Warnings: SFW, gender neutral reader, angst and depiction of a panic attack. If you feel triggered by that, please avoid it and take care of yourself first!!!

Author's note: this derailed into Alan going through it so I'm not sure how I feel about it,,,, I feel like the story took a sharp turn into another direction that is detached from chapter 1. anyway, I would really appreciate your comments if you liked it!

touch starved – ch. 3

Are you available to go through that mission right now?

Alan watched as a typing bubble suddenly appeared on his chat with them, mildly pleased at how fast they visualized his message.

It almost made him feel stupid after stalling to send them a message for so long. Although he would never admit it, because admitting it would be acknowledging his anxiety to talk to them.

Right now?

Hm...

Yes.

I had to go finish some errands for Jin...

He didn't have the right to feel jealous over them, much less over something innocuous like that. It was just their job. And even if it wasn't, he still has no right to feel anything for them at all.

Alan narrowed his eyes at the message, his fist clenching unconsciously around his phone. He stopped himself before could actually crush it into bits. It wouldn't be the first time, actually.

I believe missions are a priority.

Darkwick policy.

Jin has Tohma.

He'll live.

He pursed his lips, mouth forming a thin line as he tried to get rid of that green feeling forming inside his chest, while he thought about typing all the other reasons why they should ditch Jin.

He needed to get rid of it.

I know he will live, it's about MY survival though hahaha

Alan managed to suck in a deep breath. Okay. So they were hesitating just because it was their job, and not because they favored Jin.

Don't wanna lose my head, you know?

Good, good.

Don't worry

I'll keep you safe

Alan cringed at his own corny message, but it was too late. He had no clue on how to delete something after it was sent, so he sat with his embarrassment, nibbling on his own bottom lip as he looked at the "Seen" under his texts that appeared as soon as his messages were successfully sent. A typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

...

10 seconds feel more like 10 hours.

You there?

He allowed a little bit of his anxiety flow through the message, his right leg bouncing up and down, restlessly, as the heel of his shoe made a loud tap tap tap sound in his room.

Soeey

Sorry*

I got a bit distracted

But okay

I'll see you in a few minutes

I'll let Tohma know I can't see Jin rn and go straight to Vagastrom

Okay.

Alan pursed his lips again, that time to suppress the smile that threatened to creep into his face.

His right leg rested, finally.

No big deal. He knew you were coming just because missions are, indeed, a priority. He knew that.

Deep inside his chest, however, he felt a bubbling pride come to the surface of his feelings.

You chose him over Jin.

He breathed in deeply and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to calm himself down befored you arrived. He had no right to act giddy like that, not him, not ever. He had to wipe that small smile from his face.

A soft knock sounded on his door as Alan finished organizing all the paperwork for the mission. Two cans of iced coffee and a few bags of chips also rested right beside the documents – it was the best he could get with the little time he had.

“Hey, I'm here” your head peeked inside his room, and Alan had to keep himself from flinching. It wasn't characteristic of him to feel jumpy since he was constantly aware of his surroundings, but he had found this new side of himself after the mission regarding Takeru's ghost.

Ever since he saw your body being dragged down by that anomaly, his nightmares seemed to be filled with images of you almost succumbing to that monster. Reminding himself that you were safe, at least for now, was a conscious effort he had to do most days.

He wondered if you had nightmares about him being bloodied from head to toe after he lost control.

“Thanks for coming after such a short notice. You can come in.” he opened the door, ushering you inside.

“It's no problem. Did you take a look at it already?” you walked towards his coffee table, where all papers seemed to be organized and sat on his floor, eyes scanning the pile of documents.

“Mhm, I did.” Alan joined you and slid one of the cans towards your direction “I'm pretty sure they only categorized this as a mission because of the amount of documents with omitted information. It's a lot of work.”

You took a sharp breath through your teeth.

“Yeah, I can see that…”

Alan stared at the troubled expression on your face and suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over his body.

Working with him must be a chore. Now that he was thinking things through, you didn't need to go through this after all. At least, not again, not when he could handle things on his own this time, even if it was a lot of work. He could just let you leave–

“Actually, you don't really need to worry about this. You are free to go if you have other businesses.” he blurted out, without much thought, his uncertainty getting the best of him.

Alan was everything except a man who was tuned into his emotions. And sometimes, they caught him by surprise when they took over his body and acted on their own.

It was the reason why he was so afraid of his own anger. He didn't know when or if it could take control over him.

You stared at Alan, who sat across from you on the table, and lifted an eyebrow.

“But you called me here.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking apologetic.

Truthfully, he felt conflicted.

A big, loud part of his mind wanted you there, with him. He wanted the comfort of your company, the normalcy and gentleness of being with you; someone so different from the Vagastrom House's students, and from the surroundings that were familiar to him – because he hadn’t known tranquility for most of his life.

Another part of him, however, wanted to push you away because he didn’t feel like he deserved said tranquility.

“Yeah, however–” he was interrupted by the loud sound of a can's lid being snapped open.

“Of course I'm not leaving, Alan. It's my job as an inspector and I want to help you.”

Alan's gaze towards you softened and he took a deep breath, nodding.

Of course you wouldn't up and leave, no matter how much he tried to push you away.

It was one of the things that shook him to his core while he was working with you – not once did you express feeling uncomfortable, but most importantly, you never seemed to be afraid of him, which was unprecedented for Alan.

He knew what the other students said about his past, and he was sure that you were aware of every rumor, of every story people passed on regarding his life. Yet, never once did their fear seem to rub off on you. Each time, you chose to stay beside him, trusting him instead.

He knew that pushing you away was never going to be that simple.

You worked diligently through the first few documents on your pile, laser focused on the task at hand. Your hands moved fast, peppering the paper in red ink as you circled the information that needed to change and the numbers that needed to be input.

Meanwhile, Alan was lost in his thoughts as he looked at you, his hand loosely holding a red pen against the paper, the pen's tip making a small stain on it.

His own lack of movement made you slowly lift your gaze towards him and he flinched again, putting his finger against the red puddle of ink to dry it out faster, and quickly moving the papers to pretend he was just as focused as you.

Your very presence, however, seemed to make it impossible for Alan to concentrate.

He frowned, trying to understand what was printed on that paper right in front of him, but his eyes wandered again from his papers to rest on you, so, so near him.

Looking at your hands, he still felt the faint ghost of your touch on his head. Despite digging his nails into his scalp that whole afternoon, he still couldn't remove the memory of your skin against his hair and it haunted him. He kept on banishing time and time again every greedy thought that merely implied he wanted more of that.

He scribbled random numbers down onto his paper, mind totally focused on the fact that you were right in front of him. He would definitely need to review each and every single document he pretended to correct, because, at that moment, the sound of his heartbeat thumping loud in his eardrums prevented him from concentrating.

He glanced sideways towards you as you moved to grab your coffee. Alan swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, as he observed the way your lips pressed against the can and one stray drop of coffee trailed down your chin, your neck and entered the confines of your uniform.

He licked his lips and gritted his teeth.

How he wished he could taste your skin – but no, no. He couldn't entertain thoughts like that, not when he felt so unworthy of your touch.

He shook his head, trying to chase his thoughts away.

His mind flashed to Dante and the purple and black bruises littering his body and a cloud of guilt immediately hid his desires under its gloomy shadow.

How could he ever think of touching you with the same hands that killed a man? The same hands that held weapons, the same hands that landed him in juvie.

Alan tried to hide all the blood under grease and car oil, but it was still there – and he would rather be damned than cause the same pain on you by cursing you with his attention.

He didn’t deserve you. Not your company, not your friendship, much less your affection.

His heartbeat kept on drumming loudly on his ears, every part of his body seemed to be pulsing in the same rhythm as his thoughts snowballed into a pit of self-hatred.

He felt heat emanate from his skin, even though his room’s air conditioner was blasting the same way it had always been. Alan tried swallowing through the sudden nausea, but his throat felt like it was closing up and his tongue felt heavy on his dry mouth.

He rested his head against his trembling hands, trying his best to breathe even though it felt like his lungs weren’t working. He felt like he was dying. Was he dying? But why? Did something curse him too? Or maybe he was just ill, he never really had any health checks done by Mortkranken anyway, maybe he had been sick already.

He felt like he was going to throw up, but he didn’t even remember where he was. Where was he? He couldn’t see. His vision seemed to have darkened and his chest hurt so, so much. He gasped, trying to force the air inside his lungs.

He wished he could have at least held your hand before he died. Oh, speaking of it, weren’t you working with him just a few moments ago?

“–lan. Alan. Can you hear me? Alan, focus on my voice if you can hear me, please.”

In between the clouds in his mind, he suddenly heard your voice, muffled and distant.

“I’m right here, Alan. Please focus on my voice, I’m right here.”

His head snapped towards you, breathing still erratic. His tunnel vision seemed to expand a little and he managed to make out your face. You were right beside him, an extremely worried expression on you.

Why did you look so worried? Oh, right, he was dying.

“I know it must be hard to focus right now, but I’m gonna keep talking so you can try to come back first.”

He managed to suck in a shaky breath through his nose, the feeling of salty water hitting the back of his throat. His trembling hands moved to touch his own face - it was wet with his own tears. When did he start crying?

This seemed to bring him back a bit more, so you kept on talking.

“Can you hear me better now? Let’s try breathing together?”

He looked at you, thoughts still hazy as his heartbeat kept on drumming loudly.

“Alan.” you called him and he tried to focus on your face.

“I’m going to touch your arm, is that okay?”

You seemed to have said something about touching him and he nodded, confused.

He suddenly felt your hands wrap around his wrists.

“Focus on my hands and on my voice. Okay?”

He nodded again, still unable to speak.

“Let’s try breathing together. I’m gonna count and you’re gonna follow me, okay?”

Your thumbs gently rubbed against his quickened pulse and he felt the fog dissipate a bit more.

“Breathe in deeply for 4 seconds. 1, 2, 3, 4.”

He followed your instructions, trying to open up his own airways.

“Hold for 7 seconds. Don’t exhale yet, okay? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.”

He moved his wrists, allowing you to hold his hands instead and you squeezed them, reassuringly.

“Now let go for 8 seconds. Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.”

He felt his chest hurt a little bit less and cringed at the damp feeling of his tears wetting his face.

You guided him through his breathing for a few more minutes, until Alan felt like he could speak again.

“I thought I was dying.” he confessed, voice raspy and low. You looked at him, sympathetically.

“You were going through a really bad panic attack.” you said, and he widened his eyes in surprise “You’ve never gone through one?”

He shook his head. So he wasn’t dying. Good. But also, he felt like running away from his mind even more after he that.

“It can happen to anyone. I’ve been through some as well, especially if I’m too trapped inside my own bad thoughts. That’s why I knew that breathing technique.” you grabbed a napkin on his table and kneeled closer to him, motioning with your hands towards his face. “Can I?”

"Okay" he managed to say and hesitantly closed his eyes as he felt you dry his tear-striken face with the napkin.

It was the closest you have ever been to him. He breathed deeply, basking on the scent of lavender fabric softener that came from your clothes, and leaned against your touch unconsciously.

Your eyes softened as you observed him in such a vulnerable state. You didn’t know what was it that plagued him so much that sent him spiraling so horribly, but nothing could beat the certainty that you wished you could protect him from those demons just as much as you wanted to keep touching him.

“Alan.” you murmured and he opened his eyes, suddenly embarrassed as he realized he was resting his cheek on your hand.

He quickly leaned away from you, gaze moving everywhere but your face.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice I wa-”

“Alan” you said, once again, louder. He looked at you, silencing himself.

“Would you let me hug you?”

Alan's eyes widened and, for a moment, his thoughts seemed to halt for the first time in that afternoon.

Your question echoed inside of his skull and all he managed to do in response was lean forward again, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

You leaned your cheek against the back of his head and made sure to keep breathing deeply and evenly so he could follow your example. His arms were hesitant, and looped awkwardly around your waist, afraid of holding you too tight.

Your hands pulled his arms closer and he froze, his already tensed up muscles feeling even tighter. You moved your hands to his back again and began rubbing circles against the fabric of his vest.

Alan tried his best not to allow himself to melt against your touch, but after a while, he failed to keep himself from indulging in the feeling of peace that you gave him. It was something he only found in you and he felt like he could happily drown in it.

Your head moved, and you leaned back in order to be able to look at his tired eyes.

“I hope you know you can count on me if you ever need to talk about something. You don’t have to deal with your thoughts alone.” you murmured, arms still keeping his locked in your embrace.

Alan avoided your gaze, looking down at the documents you two still had to write, long forgotten.

The persistent voice in his head still tried to claim he wasn’t worthy of anything you were offering him, but in your arms, your voice was much louder than any insecurity he could have.

He chose to listen to you, even if just for that moment.

He nodded, arms steadying around your waist.

“Thank you.”

Masterlist link

#tokyo debunker #alan mido #tokyo debunker alan mido

119 notes · View notes

supernovafics · 1 year ago

Text

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6.3k words

summary: in which the summer of ‘84 was both the best and worst time of your life

warnings: explicit language, underaged drinking, angst, fluff, implied smut, cheating

author’s note: second part to cardigan (but could be read out of order). i fully did not expect this to end up this long but hope y’all enjoy<33 (full “folklore” album series masterlist here!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“but i can see us lost in the memory. august slipped away into a moment in time.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

July 19, 1984

Ten.

That was how many days in a row you and Steve had seen each other.

From the first time you two talked to one another outside of Ralph’s Sandwich Shop, his first ever words to you being, “Potato chips on a sandwich? That’s kinda weird,” and the conversation that proceeded from that somehow led you to watching a movie in the theater room at his house that same night. To now this— him spending the majority of his afternoon with you at the library, where you had been working for the past year and a half.

You wondered how long the two of you would keep the streak alive.

If it was anyone else you probably would have gotten sick of seeing them that many days in a row, but with Steve you weren’t. In fact, you looked forward to whenever you got to see him again. And maybe that feeling, the anticipation toward seeing this guy who you probably shouldn’t even be seeing this often anyway, should’ve worried you.

Whenever you thought about how easily the two of you were able to go from absolutely nothing to this— an unlikely friendship that somehow felt like you’d known each other so much longer than barely two weeks— it startled you.

Before, you had simply known of him; of course, you had, he was practically royalty at your high school. “King Steve,” a charmer, a perpetual flirter, somehow dating straight-A student Nancy Wheeler. It was the combination of those things that told you during that first conversation you had with him that you should stay away from him, but for some reason, you still said yes.

Maybe it was because the home theater he had been bragging about sounded way too tempting not to take up the offer. Or maybe it was because you liked being an idiot sometimes.

If it was the latter that was true then you still were an idiot because there you were ten days later still hanging out with him and not regretting it one bit.

“I need to bring you better games here,” Steve said. He was standing across from you on the other side of the counter.

“What’s wrong with Uno? Is it because you keep losing?” You jokingly asked, a small smile on your face as you started shuffling the deck. “Also, I’m technically working right now, so I shouldn’t even be playing any games with you.”

“There’s no one here except you and me,” He said and then gestured to the quietness that surrounded you both. “Actually, I think the only other person that’s been in here all day was that old lady who just wanted directions to the park.”

You loved your job at the library and you really didn’t mind how it was rarely busy, especially during the summer, because it meant that you could spend most of your shifts reading instead of helping someone find what they needed or reshelving books. Now the majority of your non-busy moments during your shift were spent with Steve.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asked as you began dealing the cards, because what else was there to do but play another round of Uno?

“My guess is hanging out with you,” You answered. “What’s happening?”

“Party,” He stated simply, and you realized that probably should’ve been your first guess. “Need us to be beer pong partners again.”

It had been last week, two days after you and Steve unspokenly decided that hanging out with one another would become a common occurrence, when he dragged you to a party; some too big thing at Matthew Lancaster’s lake house.

A beer pong table was set up, which was not all surprising for a high school party, and you suggested that you and Steve play and be on a team with one another. You were insanely good, practically making every shot, and Steve wasn’t too bad at playing either, which made your team pretty unstoppable. It was a random hidden talent of yours that you would only show off every once in a blue moon because you deliberately didn’t frequent parties.

“I’ve retired for the time being,” You told him. “I can’t show off my beer pong skills too often or it won’t be a cool talent anymore.”

He laughed a bit at that but still nodded. “Okay, what do you wanna do tonight instead?”

“Don’t let me stop you from going to the party.”

Steve shrugged and shook his head. “Probably wouldn’t be fun without you, anyway.”

His words confused you as much as they made you feel so happy. And you quickly pushed that “happy” feeling away because you knew just how fast it could lead to feeling other things; things that would make you look like the worst person in the world.

Once again, you wondered why you were doing this. Why were you allowing yourself to get close to him when you’d probably just look like an idiot in the end? And why had he wanted to talk to you in the first place? Those fleeting questions would hit you a lot over the past few days, but you’d quickly push them away because you didn’t want to think too hard about everything. However, this time you couldn’t force them away.

“Why?” You asked, breaking eye contact with him for the first time probably that entire afternoon. “Why… are we friends right now?”

If he was surprised or confused by the randomness of your question, he didn’t show it.

“I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you that day, so I did it,” He made the answer sound so simple. “I didn’t really expect it to turn into this friendship, but it’s nice finally having something that actually feels so easy.”

What about you and Nancy wasn’t easy?

You wanted to ask that but refrained from doing so. He probably didn’t mean her when he said that. You knew that the only reason why he was with you instead of her, and had been for the past ten days, was because she was out of town for the summer. That thought hurt a bit, knowing that you were essentially some sort of “consolation prize,” but it kept you from looking too much into things. You took everything Steve said that could be read as flirtatious with a grain of salt and forced yourself to see it as solely platonic.

And you’d rather it all be completely platonic anyway because you really liked the friendship you’d developed with him.

“You’re right. This does feel easy,” You ultimately responded, smiling at him because now that the unspoken lines were finally verbally drawn— the two of you were friends; nothing more, nothing less— you felt the tiniest bit better about it all. “But, I’m glad it does. I’m happy we’re friends.”

Steve smiled back at you. “Me too.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“you back beneath the sun. wishin’ i could write my name on it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

July 28, 1984

The only reason why you allowed Steve to bring you to this party was because you were a sucker for a bonfire.

And the only reason why you were currently drunk off your ass was because you couldn’t say no to a game of hide and seek, especially a drinking version of the childish game, which Steve had suggested and you quickly agreed to.

There was something about this game that made you realize that maybe your entire friendship was a game; a game of who would break first. But, that was something to think about at a different time. Or actually not at all, because thinking further about that would probably only complicate things.

It was easy to pretend that there was nothing more to you and him when you both were sober. It was also so much easier to lie to yourself that you didn’t feel anything romantic toward him and that you didn’t see that maybe he actually felt the same way too.

There was a constant back and forth happening in your mind, with you continuously telling yourself that being friends with Steve wasn’t a bad idea, even though maybe it was because it was slowly making you want something more. Sometimes it felt as if it made sense to like him; it felt obvious. The way you could talk to each other about anything and everything mixed with how constantly you two wanted to spend time together made you fall in so deep so fast.

But, you couldn’t accept or think about any of that, and the reasons why were painfully obvious.

However, with the alcohol currently clouding your brain, that felt like a slightly different story.

“Sitting behind a tree? Not your best hiding spot.”

Hearing Steve’s voice right then should’ve made you feel at least the tiniest bit upset because it meant that you lost that round of hide and seek, but you drunkenly smiled up at him.

“I wanted to be original and we’ve been playing for so long I feel like we’ve done everything else at this point. But, that was at least two minutes, though, right?”

“It was actually barely thirty seconds.”

“Oh, wow,” You said with a laugh as you extended a hand up toward him so that he could help you up. You wobbled a bit before getting your balance and then you grabbed the red solo cup in Steve’s free hand to drink the rest of what was left in it as your punishment for losing; the exact contents of the drink were unknown, but it tasted fruity.

When you were done, you handed the cup back to him and then leaned back against the tree because it somehow felt nice and you weren’t bothered by the roughness of it touching the parts of your skin that the tank top you were wearing didn’t cover.

There were a ton of people at the infamous “Lover’s Lake” because of the party, but nobody had been paying attention to you and Steve running around like five-year-olds playing hide and seek and getting severely drunk in the process.

The lopsided grin taking over Steve’s features let you know that he was just as inebriated as you were, maybe even more so because he’d been drinking a bit before you two started the game.

“Maybe we should be done with hide and seek now.”

You gave him a nod. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Things became quiet for a few moments with the two of you solely staring at each other in the darkness and ignoring the loud rowdiness of everyone else who was only a few feet away. Steve closed a bit of the distance between you both and leaned in close to you; his gaze flickered down to your lips for a hint of a second before going right back to your eyes.

If this was any other moment, your mind would be running a million miles a minute, screaming at you to not allow the inevitable to happen. But, somehow, you were actually calm.

“We can’t do that, friend,” You told him, making your voice sound as serious as possible, but you couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“I know,” He responded but still shut the final space of distance between you both, bypassing your lips and kissing your cheek instead. “That’s okay, though, right?”

The reasonable side of you was obviously telling you to say “no,” but it was hard to make yourself care enough to listen to it. “I’ll allow it.”

The three words came out so quietly, but Steve heard you. He kissed your other cheek and then your forehead and then your nose before pulling away and smiling at you.

Before he could say anything, you did the same to him; kissing both of his cheeks, his forehead, and his nose, and then pulling back to lean against the tree again. That time it was your eyes that glanced down at his lips before going back to his eyes.

You were so close to doing it, and he almost begged you to, but then you were pushing off of the tree and asking him to turn around.

“Piggyback ride to the car, please?”

“We can’t drive right now,” He said as he leaned down a bit so you could hop onto his back.

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “I know, but I will die if I don’t sit down.”

The walk to your car should’ve taken less than a minute, but instead, it nearly took five because, of course, the two of you got a little lost and it took way too long to realize that the first car you had walked past was yours.

“God, we’re acting like such idiots right now,” You said, laughing as Steve let you down so you could get into the car.

He laughed too as he got in on the passenger side. “Yeah, definitely not our finest moment.”

You sighed in contentment when you leaned back against the seat, immediately finding comfort in it, which definitely said a lot about how drunk and exhausted you were because you never usually found your car as super comfortable.

You turned on your side to face Steve, and as if feeling your gaze on him, he turned to look at you as well. You silently admired each other. Sometimes it felt as if a thousand things were being said in the silences you two shared with one another, things that would probably always be left unsaid.

“I really like you,” He whispered suddenly and you realized that maybe not everything silently said would be left unspoken.

You let out a small breath before closing your eyes because it felt too hard to look at him right then. “I really like you too.”

“Please let me kiss you.”

It was difficult to describe exactly what his words managed to do to you, and you tried your hardest to disregard those feelings.

“We can’t.” You shook your head, eyes still shut. “It’ll ruin everything.”

“What if that’s okay?” He said, voice still quiet.

It could’ve been easy.

To finally do what you both had desperately wanted to do for weeks at this point, but had refused to admit. And doing it at this moment instead of any other time because, with the drunken states you both were in, none of this would be remembered. Which would also mean that it didn’t really happen, right?

Your eyes finally opened and you looked at him. “Neither of us is gonna remember this conversation in the morning.”

“You’re probably right.”

“And if you did, you’d regret saying any of this,” You said, and your words were met with silence from him. You couldn’t tell if that meant that they were the truth, or instead, quite far from it.

Even in your inebriated state, you were too scared to push him further and get an answer because you were unsure which response would be worse; “Yes, I’d regret it,” or “No, I wouldn’t regret it at all.”

Before he could potentially say a version of either of those responses, you began speaking again. “I’m really tired.”

You then pulled your eyes away from him and looked straight ahead at the people that were still partying around the fire. A part of you wanted to join them, but the other part of you just wanted to fall asleep.

“Me too,” Steve said and with how long he had been quiet, you were actually surprised to hear his voice right then.

Both of you fell asleep just like that for the time being, putting an end to a conversation that would not be talked about in the morning because just as you’d both assumed, it seemed as if it had been long forgotten.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“salt air, and the rust on your door. i never needed anything more. whispers of ‘are you sure?’ ‘never have i ever before.’”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

July 31, 1984

The sun had long ago set behind the trees, but you and Steve still had no plans to leave his pool anytime soon.

You swam close to him, your hands finding his shoulders and then pushing down to dunk him under the water. A laugh fell from your lips as you immediately started swimming away, but Steve’s hand quickly found your waist and pulled you back toward him.

“What was that for?” He asked, one arm still wrapped around you, causing your back to be firmly pressed against his chest, while his other hand pushed back his wet hair.

“For pushing me in the pool earlier,” You answered, only trying for a moment to wriggle out of his grasp but failing miserably so you stopped.

“That was hours ago.”

“Revenge is best when you don’t see it coming,” You said, smiling widely.

He laughed against your ear. “You’re evil.”

You attempted to pull away again but he was still holding on to you, so instead you maneuvered so you were simply facing him instead.

You were smiling up at him, and you assumed he’d match it with a smile of his own, but he didn’t. Instead, there was a certain look on his face that you couldn’t necessarily decipher. You almost asked him what was wrong, but he started speaking before you got the chance to.

“I remember the conversation we had in your car at the bonfire.”

You could feel your heart start to race a bit, not expecting things to take that turn. “Oh… You do?”

He nodded his head. “Do you?”

“I remember the whole thing,” You told him, and that was entirely true. You’d spent the past few days constantly thinking about that moment and running through every single thing that was said. You had also tried your hardest to push the memory away because it seemed as if Steve didn’t remember it.

“I don’t regret anything I said,” He told you and then a hand came up to cup your cheek. “I still really wanna kiss you.”

You were quiet for a moment, letting Steve’s words settle over you, before responding to him in a small voice. “Are you sure?”

Instead of verbally responding, he gave you the smallest of nods and closed the tiny bit of space between you both, dipping his head down and slotting his lips against yours.

All you could think at that moment was finally.

Finally, you were this close to one another.

Finally, you were kissing.

Finally, you were doing what you had wanted to do for so long.

The thing that both of you told each other and even convinced yourselves wasn’t going to happen, finally happened. And in a way, it sucked because neither of you felt bad about it, at least not bad enough to stop.

Your legs wrapped around his waist beneath the water and your arms came up to wrap around his neck, one hand finding its way into the hair at the nape of his neck.

You weren’t in the deepest part of the pool anymore so Steve was able to stand, but both of you were still almost completely submerged in the water. He walked you both over to one of the sides of the pool, pressing you back against it and deepening the kiss.

Nothing was said, and nothing needed to be said. In fact, you thought that if either of you said something, it would ruin the perfection that was that moment and harshly shove you both back to reality. A reality that told you that this was the farthest thing that should have been happening.

For the time being, with Steve against you and his lips finding that particularly sensitive part of your neck, you were happy living in this fantasy world. It was a dream that you didn’t want to wake up from, and you convinced yourself that it wouldn’t hurt too bad when you did finally have to wake up from it.

“We should…” You took a breath, biting back the moan that threatened to spill from your lips as Steve continued the assault on your neck. Your next word should’ve been “stop,” but stopping this was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. “We should go to your room.”

He finally, and sadly, pulled away from your neck and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. “That sounds like a great idea.”

You detached yourselves from one another just enough to step out of the pool and into his house, wet bodies leaving drops of water across the floor that weren’t the slightest bit cared about.

You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

After getting as close as you just had been, it was hard to go back to how it used to be; the friendliness and innocence that had surrounded the brief touches you two would usually share. Instead, your hand was intertwined with his as he led you up the stairs, and then his arms circled around you when you entered his room, cocooning you in the towel he’d grabbed from behind his door.

It was you that kissed him that second time.

You reached up to push his wet hair back and then leaned in, inwardly sighing in contentment. Both of his hands found your waist, causing the towel to fall and it was immediately long forgotten.

When you pulled away you took the smallest step back and simply looked at him, his pretty face and soft brown eyes that were full of nothing but adoration for you. You tried your hardest to find something within you that resembled regret or made you want to stop this, but you couldn’t. And you knew exactly what that said about you, but it was also difficult to force yourself to care about that either.

Steve eagerly brought you close to him again, which made you smile into the kiss he pulled you into. He slowly started leading you back toward his bed.

“Wait,” You said, detaching your lips from his and softly pushing him back a bit. “It would be really rude of me to lay on your bed with my bathing suit on.”

He slowly nodded and swallowed harshly as you removed your top first, letting that fall to the floor, and then going to your bottoms. “That’s very considerate of you.”

You only smiled at him and his sudden nervousness, which managed to wash away any and all of your own shyness at that moment.

His eyes met yours. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” You whispered, reaching out to grab his hands and pull him close to you again. You were about to kiss him again, but it was then that you noticed the time on the clock that was hanging on the wall behind him. “Shit, shit.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a look of concern crossed his face. “What’s wrong?”

“The time,” You answered and then sighed as you started grabbing your bathing suit. “It’s 12:40, and if I’m not home by one, my mom will kill me and then you.”

“Your mom loves me too much to kill me,” Steve responded, grabbing a t-shirt for you to slip on too.

“Yeah, kinda weird how after only one meeting where you two barely even talked, she somehow likes you more than me now,” You said as you put on his shirt which kind of swallowed you whole but you loved it and already knew that you would never be giving it back to him.

You looked up at him and your next words came out quietly. “I’m sorry I have to ruin this right now.”

Steve shook his head at you. “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry.” Both of his hands found your hips again, squeezing softly. “We’ll pick up where we left off next time.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Next time?”

“Mhm, next time,” He said, smiling back at you and nodding. “If you want there to be one?”

“I’d like that,” You responded and pressed a quick kiss against his lips.

Even as you headed back downstairs and Steve walked you to your car, kissing you for a few more minutes before you reluctantly drove away, your stomach had yet to fill with even a hint of regret or guilt.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“wanting was enough. for me, it was enough. to live for the hope of it all.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

August 12, 1984

The constant sound of something softly pinging against your window pulled your attention away from the book you were reading in your bed.

There was only one person that could've been throwing something at your window, but still, you were the tiniest bit surprised when you opened your curtains and saw Steve standing on your front lawn.

Even though seeing him was such a natural thing at this point, it made sense that you were at least a little surprised because no part of you felt secure with this “thing” you had going on with him, which was more than just a friendship but so much less than any type of actual relationship. You lived in the perpetual state that it would all abruptly end. And maybe that thought process came from you knowing that eventually, this would all have to come to an end; there weren’t that many days of summer left.

But then there was that tiny slither of hope that maybe it all wouldn’t have to end. You kept that thought buried deep down inside of you, though.

You lifted your window. “Throwing rocks at my window? That’s very rom-com of you.”

“Sometimes I like to be cheesy,” Steve said, smiling at you.

It was a sweet, adoring smile that you shouldn’t have been on the receiving end of; it was a smile that didn’t belong to you. It was so easy to see that, but it was nearly impossible to actually do something about it and let him go.

“Can I come up?” He asked. “I promise I’ll be quiet and your mom won’t hear me.”

“She’s gone for the weekend, actually,” You told him, smiling a bit. “I’ll be down in a second.”

When you opened the front door, he was quick to greet you with a kiss before pulling you in for a hug.

After that first kiss in his pool, there was an almost immediate shift that happened. An easy shift where you’d gone from constantly telling yourselves that everything was solely platonic to finally allowing yourselves to do every little thing that deep down you both had always wanted to do. With him now always greeting you with soft kisses, and you secretly spending so many nights in his bed because his parents were never home and most of the time it was easy to make up some sort of excuse to your mom.

Something else shifted too, though. It was a shift that neither of you spoke about because you never really wanted to acknowledge what exactly your friendship had transformed into and what it really meant. Not talking about any of it was a decision that you were unsure if it was completely yours or his because it was all so unspoken.

When you thought about it hard enough though, you could see that the decision was mutual, because on both sides it was easier to pretend that none of the outside things existed. In that fairytale, he didn’t have a girlfriend, he didn’t belong to anyone else. You were his and he was solely yours.

“Tell me about this thing that your parents forced you to go to tonight,” You said as Steve kicked off his shoes by the front door and the two of you started heading up the stairs. One of his hands was intertwined with yours and there was barely an inch of space between you both. It had become really hard not to be close to one another.

“It was this big event for my dad’s job, and they always drag me to stuff like that as a way to prove to his coworkers that they’re ‘good parents.’ It was very boring,” Steve responded with a small sigh and then gave your hand a light squeeze. “It would’ve been much less painful if you came.”

He sat down on the foot of your bed when the two of you walked into your room, and the oversized t-shirt you had on as your pajamas rode up a lot as you settled yourself in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and hands resting on his shoulders. It was an un-innocent position that, for the time being, felt quite the opposite.

“Going to something like that is something a girlfriend would do, not…” That was the first time you’d even minorly referred to Nancy, and it felt both weird and wrong. It woke you up for a second and made you falter a bit in your next words, breaking Steve’s gaze. “Not a… friend.”

One of his hands found the side of your thigh, rubbing the skin softly and trying to pull you back into this moment with him. You could feel him reading you so easily and knowing where your mind was going, and he didn’t want you to go there, and neither did you.

You didn’t want this– you and him, him and you– to break just yet.

“Um, anyway, you didn’t tell me that it would be so formal,” You said, gesturing with your head to the suit he was wearing.

Your eyes met his again and you could see the relief wash over his face because you didn’t bring up the unspoken topic. Things shifted right back to normal. Well, the normal that you two created for yourselves.

“I feel kinda ridiculous, and I hate this bow tie,” He responded, hand continuing to rub your thigh. “I should’ve probably changed before I came here but I just really wanted to see you.”

You let his words further push away any thoughts of Nancy that lingered in your mind, thoughts that finally told you that what you were doing with him was wrong.

“Stop. You look good,” You told him, your fingers playing with the bow tie for a brief moment. “Like, really good.”

“Okay, now I’m really glad that I didn’t change, then.” He smiled before leaning in to kiss you.

You only deepened the kiss in response and focused on nothing but the feeling of his mouth on yours and his hands beginning to snake underneath your shirt.

He pulled back, maneuvering things so you were sitting at the foot of the bed and he was standing. The black suit jacket he had on was the first thing to fall on the floor. You slipped your t-shirt over your head and tossed it to the side before helping him unbutton the long sleeve white shirt he had on.

His hands found your bare waist and squeezed softly. “I’m so fucking happy I’m here right now.”

“Me too,” You responded and then sighed in contentment, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment, when you felt his thumb graze over your already hard nipple.

Sometimes, usually in moments like these, it felt as if it was your sole purpose to be with him; canceling your plans just in case he’d call or show up, and meeting solely at his place, or yours, or the library.

How deeply intertwined you felt with him let you know exactly how much it would hurt when this all came to its eventual end. But then you were hit with the thought that maybe you would deserve it because you put yourself in this situation.

Steve’s hand came up to gently stroke your cheek and pull you out of your thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

Your gaze met his as you shook your head. “Nothing important.”

But, maybe it was the most important thing.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i remember thinkin' i had you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

August 23, 1984

You expected to see him that night.

So maybe him unexpectedly showing up to the library– which was now busy with a bunch of kids scrambling to do their summer reading assignments– was what should have told you that everything was about to go to shit.

“Hey,” You said to him and placed the book in your hand in its rightful place on the shelf and then did the same thing with the other one you were holding. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight.”

Steve was quiet for a few moments too long, which made you look at him, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you saw the look on his face. It was hard to exactly decipher his expression because it looked as if he was experiencing a thousand different emotions at once.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice quiet.

“I got a call from Nancy,” He told you, and you nearly flinched at hearing him saying her name to you for the first time ever. “She said she’s coming back tonight.”

“Oh…” Was the first thing that fell from your lips. It was the word that perfectly encompassed your initial shock at that moment. “That’s, um– That’s really, uh…” You almost said “great,” because if the circumstances were different and if things were actually normal between you two, it probably would’ve been great that his girlfriend was coming back after being gone for almost two months. But, things were far from normal and the circumstances weren’t different at all, so you were at a loss for words.

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, but what was really probably only seconds, you said something. “I really don’t know what to say to that, honestly.”

“I’m sorry,” He said softly and pulled his eyes away from you. He looked down and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I guess we, uh, both know what that means.”

“Say it, Steve.” You muttered. You had to hear him say the words in order for it all to be real for you. You couldn’t take all of the unspoken, reading-between-the-lines bullshit.

He was quiet for an unbearable amount of time before he finally spoke. “We can’t see each other anymore.”

From the second he kissed you in his pool nearly a month ago, you knew that those words would ultimately come. Each happy day that passed with you tangled up in his bedsheets or cuddled up on his couch laughing about nothing was leading to this moment.

It had all been so inevitable, but it still hurt harder than you had expected it to. You quickly decided to pretend as if it didn’t, though.

You nodded at him. “Okay. Got it.”

“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t– I didn’t–”

“Don’t,” You quickly shook your head, not at all wanting to hear whatever pitying thing he would say to you at that moment. “Please don’t.”

You were suddenly glad that you were at work right then because you could distract yourself from thoughts of him and everything that had just ended with the current busyness of the library. You looked away from Steve and noticed a little girl struggling to grab a book that was high on a shelf.

“It’s really chaotic here right now, and I have to actually do work for the first time probably all summer, so yeah…” You forced a small smile and then walked away from him, ignoring the words he said to you that you barely heard and couldn’t make out.

Over the next two final hours of your shift, you’d silently accepted that that brief conversation would be the last time you talked to Steve Harrington. Although there were a thousand more things that probably could’ve been said, it was okay. That ending was okay. Or at least in the long run, it would be.

So it slightly startled you when you saw him in the parking lot, leaning against the side of his car. When he noticed you, he waved.

“Have you been here this whole time?” You asked, walking toward him, but leaving a wide space of distance between you two.

“Maybe, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…”

For the first time probably ever, he confused you.

“I just— I wish things could be different,” He ultimately said, and hearing those words simultaneously made you feel happy while also making you feel so fucking upset.

“Things can be different,” You told him as you stepped toward him, the tiniest glimmer of hope inadvertently beginning to swirl in your stomach. “We could be together.”

Your hands found his, slowly intertwining them. His gaze met yours and you let the silent conversation play out. Your eyes pleading with him to not let go of what you two had, and him looking at you so softly while also battling whatever else was going on in his mind. After a few moments, he gave your hands a quick squeeze before he let go of them.

“I love Nancy.”

Not you. Those were the words he didn’t say, but you could read between those lines a little too easily.

“I love you” was the one thing you hadn’t said to one another, but you thought that you could feel how much he loved you through each soft touch, every longing look, every plea for you to stay in his bed for just a minute longer; one minute that always turned into at least five.

Apparently, you were wrong, though.

And now you knew for certain that you were wrong about every single thing that happened that summer.

Because you knew that you felt that way toward him. You loved him.

But he didn’t love you. He didn’t want to be with you.

He loved her.

His girlfriend— the only girl he was supposed to love.

You let the feeling of regret and guilt toward everything that happened this summer crash over you like a tsunami.

“I should’ve never done this,” You said, whispering that more to yourself, than to him.

“What?” He asked, unsure of what you’d just said.

“You love her.” You said as you moved away from him. “Go be with her.”

“I’m really sorry,” You heard him say as you walked toward your car.

You didn’t say anything in response to that. Mainly because there was nothing to say, but also because you refused to talk to him any longer. And quite frankly, you never wanted to talk to him again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“so much for summer love and saying ‘us.’ ‘cause you weren't mine to lose.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(read “betty” here!)

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things series #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic

534 notes · View notes

oldstateofmind · 1 year ago

Text

nobody else can heal it (but you) [part l]

➜ pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader ➜ warnings: spoilers from ATSV, a bit of angst cause i’m human, violence, torture, hanahaki disease but make it nightmares instead. english is not my first language. ➜ words: 4.3k ➜ a/n: I’ve watched this movie 3 times by now because I’m obsessed with Miguel. His character is so interesting and captivating, he’s so grumpy and sad and that just makes me wanna fix him. Ugh, I have a soft spot for anti-heroes. And being voiced by Oscar Isaac is the icing on the cake. This first part sets the tone because I just can’t jump straight to smut, but I promise I’ll compensate next chapter.

chapter l. bad disease

For too long, you've been yearning for Miguel; only to be trapped in an endless nightmare. While awake, you had to live with the fact that he was out of reach – tearing your soul apart. While sleeping, violence and death had his face – tearing your whole being apart. No matter when or where; you were maimed by the same man.

Ao3

It starts with a hiss; then a shadow moving in the corner of your vision.

In the dark, cold envelops your body; chilling to the bone. It’s awfully quiet besides the continuous dripping of water in the distance, the echoes of each drop remind you of a ticking clock; counting the time you’ve left – for what, however, you’re not really sure.

You rub your arms in an attempt to bring a bit of warmth back to your skin, and as always, it’s useless. It seems like a forever winter inside the place you’ve found yourself in for the past 2 weeks.

What once started as a nightmare that made you wake up in the middle of the night, now plagues your mind every time you close your eyes. There’s no escape from it, no matter how hard you try. You’re more than tired, it’s exhausting not getting more than 3 hours of sleep when your job requires attention and disposition.

Even the pills Lyla gave you last time you were at the HQ didn’t work – actually, they made it even worse. Because then, your body was completely knocked out while your mind was terribly awake, reliving the scene over and over again. You threw them down the drain once you woke up. Never again.

And even though you already know what happens by now, it is still dreadful to wait for the nightmare to unfound. Your senses are hyper-aware of every single tiny sound, every movement in the dark.

There’s something poetic in the way you can feel him move even with your eyes closed; the way you could recognize the pattern of his breathing in the distance even when fear creeps into your brain. Your spider-sense tingles as his heavy steps are headed toward you, it screams danger. Goosebumps break out across your body, sending a small, cold shiver through your spine.

Red is the first thing you see. And also the last.

“...to Y/N.” Someone is calling you in the distance, but the hazy feeling of the nightmare still lingers within you. It’s hard to focus when your brain still hasn’t turned off properly for weeks, still trapped in whatever curse this is.

“Earth to Y/N, is anyone there?” There’s a snap in front of your eyes, and you suddenly flinch with the unexpected sound. The touch on your shoulder grounds you a bit.

You blink your eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to brush off the dreadful feeling still creeping into the back of your mind. As your eyes adjust to reality, Gwen’s face is filled with concern.

“I’m sorry, guys.” It’s the only thing you manage to say, how could you possibly begin to explain what’s been happening?

“You’ve lost your cue twice now, what’s happening with you today?” The girl presses, still holding onto your shoulder. And for that, you’re grateful.

Not getting enough sleep has been causing you to lose grip on reality – and that scares you the most. Not being able to tell if the sounds are coming from your head or from somewhere else. Or worse, having to avoid him because it’s unbearable the feeling that eats you from the inside out; the sense of fight or flight kicking in every time you hear his voice. Not tolerating being in his company as shadows follow you around like a ghost, tormenting you into remembering.

And it’s just not fair.

“Nothing!” You say, adjusting the bass strap on your shoulder. Hesitating on letting you go, Gwen squeezes your arm before retracting her hand. You try to smile, “I’m good. I…I’m good.”

The smile stretched for too long, awkwardly pulling your face into a grin rather than a genuine beam. The avoidance of looking at the member of the band doesn’t really back you up on your lies. You hear Hobie huff in annoyance, while Gwen’s piercing gaze still hasn’t left your face. You feel slightly guilty about keeping your nightmares a secret, but it’s not like they would understand, would they?

After all, Miguel O’Hara was a difficult subject for you to talk about.

“I know that look, I have seen it in the mirror quite a few times,” The girl admits. And you knew it was true.

When Gwen joined the Spider Society just a few months ago, the melancholy gloom that followed her was palpable. The teary eyes whenever someone asked about her life, the avoidance of returning to her world, always crashing at yours or Hobie’s. Her father was a tough subject on which she never really dwelled, too painful to remember.

However, even if she could relate to the feeling of losing sleep over someone, she wouldn’t understand how it felt to be torn apart by your own brain, to have precious memories distorted in a sick and twisted nightmare that was a culmination of your worst fears. To know it was coming and having no power to stop it. And all the while having the face of the person you cared about the most in the world, in all universes.

No, no one could begin to understand.

You bit your lips, signing in defeat, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“That’s rubbish. Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?” Hobie chimes in, crossing his arms over his chest. He raises his eyebrow, seeing through your facade without breaking a sweat.

“You’re not even glowing like you usually do!” Pavitr shouts from the audience, waving his hand toward you. Sometimes he would come by to watch the band practice, but today you had not even seen him coming, which was a terrible sign because Pavitr always made an entrance when he stopped by.

“I thought you would be grateful for that.” You scoff.

“Hey, you can’t blame me! My eyes are sensitive.”

The typical headache starts to pound in your head like a thousand bells ringing directly in your ear. It’s disorientating the way your senses feel out of place – like a fish out of the water. Not even having superpowers was helping you stay afloat.

You took pride in being a Spider Woman, doing your job as best as you could so that at the end of the day, Miguel would see you. Your talent, your dedication. But lately, you feel yourself falling further down in his list. And it hurts.

“It’s just that–” You sigh, rubbing your eyes again, foolishly trying to make the pain go away. The ache in your head was bad, but the one in your heart could bring you to your knees. “I’m not getting much sleep these last few weeks.”

Gwen snaps her fingers excitedly, “You should try one of those pills they hand over at the–”

“No!” You shout before you can stop yourself; memories flood your troubled mind. The blood, the screams. Talons ripping flesh, pain consuming your body and soul. But the worst of all; his words. Gwen stops in her tracks, caught off guard by your sudden outburst. The guilty eat you away.

“I mean, I–I’ve tried it,” You whisper, the lump forming in your throat makes it hard to say a single word, “but they… didn’t work for me.”

The trembling of your hands caught everyone’s attention. And It’s just too much.

“I’m sorry.” Whispering, you turn around to hide your face. You take the bass strap from your shoulder and place the instrument in its case. “Let’s just wrap this up, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

“Oi, Y/N,” Hobie calls for you, but you’re already grabbing your coat and heading toward the door. “We are here to help you, it’s what a band is about, innit?”

You look over your shoulder at them, heart aching at the thought of leaving them with no explanation – as a frightened animal, cornered with nowhere to run, all bite and no apologies.

“Right,” You agree but vanish in thin air seconds later.

ll.

Time becomes its own entity when you lose track of it. It’s another late hour, probably somewhere between 3 AM, and the coffee you got from your favorite spot in town is hot against your cold fingers. You dangle your feet at the edge of a building, admiring the view of a sleepy neighbor – no matter the time, New York is always full of light.

It’s been a few days since you left the rehearsal in a hurry, the band has been trying to get in touch with you but you’ve been avoiding taking their calls and answering their texts – you’ve been avoiding a lot of things lately.

Like swinging in the middle of the traffic, as an example. Something that came naturally, but now it has become too dangerous. The notion of space and distance have been lost days ago together with the full awareness of your surroundings. You’ve been trying to do your job, but it has become almost impossible to pay attention to your movements when the heaviness of your limbs begs for you to slow down.

There’s also Lyla, who you've lost count of how many times she chimed in while you were working, telling you about a meeting that you had missed out on. Not that it was totally required to be there, but if once you counted the days to be in the same room as Miguel, just so you could see him, now you avoided it like the plague.

You haven’t heard from him ever since you disappeared – only stopping by the HQ when extremely necessary – so you might not be in that much trouble. However, it definitely did some heavy damage to your heart noticing how O’Hara didn’t really need or wanted to see you in the first place. Not even a call, not even a message.

And that was devastating.

Blowing out your coffee, you sigh. The lack of sleep has been taking a toll on you. It started off as simply missing the timing from one building to another, and now you can feel the nasty bruise forming on the side of your hip. Actually, your body now looks like it has been painted black and blue with the number of bruises it’s collecting.

And you still can’t find the answer, nor any clue on how to make them go away. It will kill you eventually, you’re sure of that. It was just a matter of time now. Maybe then you could finally rest.

The bitter taste of the coffee spreads in your tongue and you welcome the caffeine with open arms. You’ve been trying to stay awake for the most part of the day, only hitting the bed when you’re completely and absolutely worn out. It does give you a few more minutes, but as the sun comes down and another moon appears, you can feel yourself slipping away, getting fewer and fewer hours of sleep, and slowly descending to madness as the nightmares start to feel more vivid, clouding your judgment.

Maybe you should ask for help, after all.

As a result of a very slow mind, it takes you more than it should to sense a new presence on the rooftop with you. Startled, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You quickly throw away the coffee, lamenting not being able to finish it.

You pull your mask down; if it was another one of those villains of the week the guy was fucked because you had run out of patience. “Honestly, I’m in a really bad mood today,” You say to whoever is hiding in the shadows, your senses tingling as the figure slowly walks towards you, “No tricks, please. Let’s do this quickly.”

The movement stops, and you roll your eyes in annoyance. Another guy who thinks that making a scary little entrance will impress you. You’re about to make a joke when the shadow speaks, making your heart stop for a second.

“Y/N.”

The cold creeps in underneath the flesh, freezing your blood and yourself in place. All the hair in your body stands up as your body tenses with trepidation and fear. There it was again, that voice that haunts you night and day.

No, please. I’m awake, aren't I?”

It was hard to tell, as your surrounding started to blur; the sound of the street and surroundings go silent, as the only focus of your mind is the man in front of you and the way his eyes glow scarlet against the dark of the night. Your heart hammers your chest so furiously you’re afraid it might break free.

“Y/N.”

Miguel calls out for you again, his tone nothing more than a whisper. But you have seen this scene before; a hundred times you’ve heard those same words roll out of his tongue as if it disgusted him – as if you didn’t deserve to be mentioned it.

You flinch as he steps forward, memories of talons ripping your skin apart make you fight against the rising panic; the outcome of the nightmare is inevitable, you’ve tried to change it, but the aftermath was always the same; killed by the man you loved the most.

“Stay away from me,” You warned him. It was useless when fate seemed to have your lines already written, with no chance to change the full stop by a coma. “Please, stay away from me.”

Miguel stops, the glowing of his suit hurts your eyes. You can’t see his expression, there’s a dark shadow covering his face, but the red tint gives his demeanor a haunting feeling – another shiver runs down your spine. Your vision starts to blur; the fine line between reality and dreamland crashes together in your mind. Nothing feels real, the foggy state of mind wraps around you, gradually taking over your sanity.

So you flee. Or at least you try.

Before you could jump from the building, Miguel’s strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you directly in his direction. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and quickly you are able to untangle yourself from his grip, kicking him in the process.

“Y/N.” You know it’s his voice, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like it. It’s disconnected from the man you’ve grown to love. Dread gnawed at your insides as the nightmare turns into another torture section. His mouth is moving but you can’t make up the words; every sound gets lost in the loud rush of blood in your ears.

Not that you need it, anyway. You’ve been living the same dialogue over and over again to know like the back of your hand.

“Don’t hurt me again,” You plea, raw panic in your voice. Your mind is erratic, coming up with ideas on how to escape, but your body doesn’t follow the same line of thinking, “Please, I’m so tired.”

But it’s all in vain; the man bolts in your direction like an animal ready to devour its prey. You find yourself half mad with terror – your throat tightens as anxiety eclipsed your thoughts.

Before Miguel can get to you, you attack.

It never works as the man is way above your abilities, but you try – anything to be freed from having another slow, painful death. Gathering the last of your strength, you shoot a web that miraculously lands on his foot and it sticks to the ground. Quickly, you jump from one wall to another, landing a kick on his chest.

It doesn’t do anything more than startle the man, but it gives you enough time to soar across the night sky, landing on another rooftop. The glowing of your watch catches your attention. Usually, you don’t have it with you, nightmares don’t really give you the option to flee.

But it seems this one does.

“Y/N!” Miguel roars. In the slip second your eyes had darted toward the gadget, the man had torn apart the single web holding him in place. He huffs, shoulders hunched forward as tension grows between you both.

Against your better judgment, you shot him a glance. And like magnets, his eyes find yours in mi the sea of lights that only New York could offer.

You press the bottom, eyes fixed on the man coming towards you like a bolt. His talons cut the air in front of your eyes – almost like a kiss – the petrifying realization makes you fall on your back towards the portal.

Then everything turns black.

lll.

When you open your eyes again, you’re absolutely and awfully exhausted. The weight of your body holds you down against the cold floor, almost as if it didn’t belong to you anymore. You had lost ownership after not taking care of it. Your eyelids are heavy, and for a moment you consider just going back to sleep, finally giving in to the sweet taste of relief.

But then, the warnings in the back of your mind start to go off, and you remember why you can’t. Grunting, you take off your mask and pick yourself up. There was no rest for you, not until you find out what the hell happened. And if it was all in your mind, of if Miguel was there.

Because that definitely didn’t feel like a dream. The phantom feeling of his fingers wrapped around your wrist still lingered, and the intensity of his gaze still made you shrink. A chill runs down your spine in trepidation. If he was really there were the nightmares just a premonition of the future?

No. Miguel would never do that.

Even though he didn’t… like you as you liked him, the man didn’t have a single motive to want you dead. Miguel was many things, but mostly he was righteous. Dedicated to his job in an unhealthy, and obsessive way? Yes. However, he still had kindness hidden underneath his scowl, and even though his heart was mostly painted black by the loss of his old life, it still beat for the new ones the Spider Society protected. Besides, he still had some humor in him; a completely dated and cringe type of humor, but there.

And every time it made an appearance, you would find it adorable. A tiny smile appears on your lips. How could you not treasure every moment with him when it was all so rare?

“Y/N?” Someone calls for you in the distance. You are still picking yourself up from the floor, the sudden movement makes you dizzy, and nauseous. You’re pretty sure you hit your head.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Margo comes into view, she quickly puts one of your arms around her neck and helps you get up. “You look terrible.”

“You should see the other guy,” You try joking around. And even though the blue avatar softly huffs, her expression of concern is serious. You must look worse than you thought.

Margo helps you get into a chair, gently holding you until you’re comfortable in your seat. “I’m sorry for barging in, I honestly didn’t know where I was going.”

“Where you running from something?” She jokingly asks. She grabs a tablet, reads something on the screen, and goes back to work.

“Yeah,” You groan, running your hand through your hair, “You could say that.”

The room was as quiet as it always was, the only sound coming from the girl who was softly humming a song. Looking around, you notice there was no one around, only the machines as a company. You wondered if Margo ever feel lonely here; the place was big enough to fit a few dozen Spiders, however, it was always deserted. The truth was that no one actually liked to be around villains after they were captured, and sending them home was a dreadful job. Margo was definitely a viable asset to the team.

You can feel your senses start to relax, the darkroom was a perfect invitation for a well-deserved rest. But with the sleepiness came the loss of concentration, and the last time you let your guard down, you fled from a very real Miguel.

Small talk would be, then. “So… who’s next?”

Margo picks up her tablet, tapping a few things before showing you a picture. “She calls herself 'Torment'. But you’re probably familiar with her. After all, you and Hobie caught her a few weeks ago.”

Wait. A few weeks ago? That's exactly the time when the nightmares started to occur.

Suddenly, a flashback hits you like a bullet. A purple and blue cloud, the touch of a finger. The laugh.

“Margo, I need to talk to her,” You demand, getting up from your chair as if you had been electrified. The pieces fall into place and make a clear picture. How could you have let this fly over your head? Of course, the nightmares weren’t something normal! It had to be a product of something, or someone.

“Y/N, I need to send her ho–”

“It’s urgent,” Holding the girl’s hand in yours, you squeeze them in a silent plea, “Please, Margo. Just give me 5 minutes.”

Margo presses her lips together; you must look desperate because she sighs, defeated. Then nods, “Make it quick.”

“Thank you.”

The Send Home Machine had come out of its cocoon, and now sat atop a circular base; waiting for the command to start the process of pulling the strings to weave the portal back home. You always thought the whole mechanism was a bit too much, but if it worked, then who were you to complain?

Margo brings Torment in, and she immediately recognizes you.

“Oh, I knew I would see you again!” The woman’s face lights up like a Christmas tree – that couldn't be a good sign. She claps her hands, bouncing on her feet. “Looking for answers, darling?”

A cold shiver runs down your spine, but it’s not fear that spreads through your veins. It’s anger. “What did you do to me?”

The woman laughs, throwing her head back. You can clearly see she was having too much fun with you. “Now you’re interested in what I’ve to say? You didn’t seem that excited when I first came to you and your little friend.”

Your blood boils. If she wasn’t already locked up and ready to be sent home, you would definitely teach her a lesson or two. Your knuckles go white as the woman stares, the smile on her face is disturbing. How could she find pleasure in tormenting someone like that?

The sound of the engine turning startles you, Margo sends you an apologetic look as the machine descends from its place atop the base. You’re getting out of time.

“What do you want?” You shout, desperate. You can’t imagine going another week, another day haunted like this. “Tell me!”

Torment’s stare is piercing, a shadow crosses her face when the smile fades into a thin line. The silence was agonizing, and with each tread of the web, you felt your sanity slipping away. This was your last chance.

“I’m so fucking tired!” You cry out, hitting the glass so hard it almost cracks. “Do you know how it feels to not get a single hour of sleep because your nightmares are too fucking real? Do you have a single idea of how torturing it is to have him, of all people–” Margo was listening, but you didn’t care. You wanted answers and you would get them. “Why him?”

“Poor little thing. You haven’t figured it out yet?” she hums, furrowing her eyebrows. And you hate the look of pity she has on her face. It was her that did this in the first place! “That must be tough, to keep all of that to yourself.”

No one knew about your feelings for Miguel. Well, you had a slight hunch that maybe Peter B. Parker might have noticed it. But otherwise, you kept all to yourself. Treasuring little moments as precious jewelry.

He was your boss! And besides, he was still too caught up in his late family. He would never open his heart again after the tragedy bestowed upon him. You couldn't blame him; a man forever stuck in the past, reliving each moment when he was happy.

However, sometimes, you would catch him looking. Exchange glances in a crowded room; during meetings. You would spend time with him alone; in a comfortable silence hard to find, or in an easy-going atmosphere that left you smiling like an idiot.

But that was what they were, fleeting moments. And even though sometimes you dreamed about a future where you could give him all the love he deserved, they were just that; silly dreams. There was no space for you in his life. You had accepted that long ago.

“You see, my abilities are a gift,” Torment simply says, still unphased at your suffering. “They search deep in your soul for what you seek the most. The nightmares are just an incentive to make you finally take the big step.”

“What?” A memory comes to the forefront of your mind; a finger touching your forehead, the slight shock that sent you back a few steps. Miguel’s face appears right after the electric feeling dissipates. “What do you mean?”

“You know very well,” There’s some sort of twisted kindness when her smile appears again, it irks you profoundly, “Take care, darling. You can thank me later.”

The machine finishes threading the web, encapsulating the woman inside a honey-colored web. The last thing you see is her waving at you before disappearing into nothing.

Outraged, you punch the glass again, and again. No, no, no. This can’t be happening! That woman must be lying, there’s no way the cure to this torment is–

“Calm down, Y/N!” Margo holds your wrist before you can land another hit. She’s saying something but you can’t hear it. Anxiety takes over your body as you crouch on the floor, hiding your face in your arms.

You will have to tell Miguel.

And that was worse than any other nightmare.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #sometimes i write

632 notes · View notes

phoenix-fell · 2 years ago

Text

Anti-Bumbleby criticisms answered with BB analysis - Big post

As expected, as Bumbleby gets more attention from the show, the anti-BB crowd have surfed in on their tidal wave of bitter lemons. So, I’d like to put my degree, job and training to use and compile my thoughts down in one place - a one-stop shop if you will - it’s long and will be largely unfiltered as I tackle the weirdest and most common criticisms and BB analysis. (I kinda miss Bumbleby analysis Megaposts, I might make one sometime to go alongside this as a point of reference as most I’ve seen end around Vol 6).

TIA for anyone who actually takes the time to read my ramblings and please feel free to give your thoughts/analysis and I’ll edit it in. FIRST EDIT - 8th Mar 2023 presenting labels and sexuality in Remnant - 4th from end.

Credentials: Double major 1st class grad in Literature and Creative Writing, specialising in fairy tales and WLW representation in media. Recipient of dissertation award exploring character psyche and the presentation of psychological themes. Literary critic, writer and content specialist.

Let’s start off with a cracker from Reddit!

“Why couldn’t the BB scenes be more of a background thing? Why do they need to focus on them like they’re a main plot or something?”

Is... Is it stuffy under all that homophobia? I could easily rhyme off a string of sarcastic quips like ‘gee, I wonder why, it’s almost like it’s important to the development of two of the main characters or something.’ But it’s so lost on some people that I’mma spell it out:

We’ve seen Blake and Yang’s trauma painted across the screen from ‘Burning the Candle’ when Yang first confesses her abandonment issues, to the White Fang / Adam arcs that gave us a picture of the abuse Blake has endured - not just as a Faunus, but from her partner (“Adam used to get into my head, make me feel small.”), right through to their separation that dealt with their respective issues with running away/being abandoned and the shared trauma which has tied them both together indefinitely. They’ve been apart, they’ve repaired their relationship, they’ve grown together. In a current volume that’s so inherently focused on character’s individual development, seeing Blake and Yang together was almost inevitable as they’ve been so completely involved in one another’s development throughout the entire series. This is without going into their fairy tale allusions that tie them together which I’ll go into further down or the references to Yin/Yang and numerous romantic tropes that show how integral they are to one another’s characters. Contrary to belief, it’s not romance for the sake of romance - in this instance, the romance very much strengthens their development individually.

Asides from all of this, it was decided from the very beginning that Yang would lose her arm (foreshadowed in the Yellow trailer). The moment they decided that Yang would lose her arm protecting Blake, was the moment a decision was made to invariably tie these two narratives together on a very fundamental level.

But also, don’t clown yourself into thinking you’re not a homophobe if you think any LGBT content belongs in the background whilst also rejoicing any onscreen developments between straight ships.

“If BB was meant to be a thing then they wouldn’t have had Sun as a romantic interest.”

Is there a universe where love triangles and bisexuals are a foreign concept?

But in all seriousness, I think that certain corners of fanbases seem to struggle with any concepts that are non-linear; something I often see with anime. By ‘linear’, I mean: love interest introduced > build up > canon > together forever. As opposed to ‘non-linear’; a character that goes on their own journey of discovery and, through which, has more than one interest and path over time and has the ability to change their mind. The show was never a ‘romance’ as a primary theme; it’s an action/adventure which has some romantic subplots. But to honest, Blake changing her mind shouldn’t really be this much of a shock to the fanbase given that our FIRST ever interaction with Blake, in her TRAILER, is her changing her mind about her partner (and first romantic interest) and deciding to pursue a new journey. A scene which is actually referred back to in the Season 6 opener when Blake uncouples the train and sees what she believes to be a hallucination of a hooded Adam on the opposite carriage, foreshadowing the importance of that original decision later in the series (“you didn’t leave scars, you just left me, alone”).

The arc that follows Blake thereafter is inherently tied to Adam (amongst other important themes), who is predominantly based off Gaston and the rose (or curse of the rose) from Beauty and the Beast. Blake and Yang are interchangeably alluded to as both Belle and the Beast throughout their character arcs from as early as the Red Trailer: “Black the beast descends from shadows / Yellow beauty burns gold.” and as recently as Blake describing Yang to the Hunter Mice in Vol. 9 Chapter 1. I can rhyme off these allusions until I’m blue, but again, I may save this for a master post.

The story that Blake is based on is a love triangle - she was never meant to have one set path from the beginning and romantic interests were always meant to play a huge part in Blake’s story/development; she was always going to have a romantic decision to make after conquering the curse / Gaston. Blake being haunted by her first romantic interest is foreshadowed in the ending of her trailer and first referenced in her conversation (with Yang) at Mountain Glen, and becomes an undeniable path of exploration once Yang loses her arm to Adam at the end of Volume 3. Let it be noted that Sun was present when Yang announced she was going to find Blake at the Battle of Beacon - a decision was made here for Yang to be the one to lose her arm protecting Blake, as was Adam’s poignant promise to take away everything Blake loves - “starting with [Yang]” or, otherwise, the solidifying of this romantic subplot. Which, again, is called back to with the infamous line: “What does she even see in you?” besides the obvious subtext, it’s setting the stage for these parallels between Adam and Yang, past and future, the previous love interest identifying something in Blake that used to be reserved for him, now directed towards Yang.

This season began with Blake declaring that Yang “seems scary, but isn’t”. Because, once Belle knows the Beast isn’t scary, she allows herself to fall in love (conveniently, this is said whilst walking through a fairy tale).

I could go into a big post about romantic foils and the ways in which Yang, Adam and Blake are all foils to each other but I might make a separate post instead for anyone new to the FNDM. Either way, I feel it’s worth mentioning as it’s Blake who directly compares Yang to a past love interest who was designed with semblances and characteristics that mirror each other. Point being, no one should be shocked that Blake has multiple interests given the character and fairy tale she’s based off and heavy allusions where Yang is concerned.

“Oh yeah, because Yang ‘literally purred at guys in their underwear’ Xiao Long and Blake ‘literally kissed a boy’ Belladonna are clearly bisexual because of [insert out of context reasons]” and “yes but Monty said...”

1. You mean... the one, and only one scene in 9 entire volumes where Yang shows any interest (albeit jokingly) in a guy, and the literal scene directly before she sees Blake from across the crowded room and proceeds to never express interest in men again? (Ignoring the very obvious implied trope here). And, in fact, only expresses interest in a woman from this point onwards? This is your frame of reference? Personally, I find it quite lovely that Yang’s perspective is never the same from the moment she sees Blake. Asides from this, while ‘bisexual’ is the label that these guys have gone with, Yang’s sexuality hasn’t been confirmed outside of being sapphic - it’s not outside the realm of possibility that she is, in all likelihood, lesbian. It’s important to note here that any young character expressing an interest in a man would not invalidate that same character being a lesbian. In fact, if we apply this to real life, it’s not uncommon for people not to realise that they’re queer immediately (I myself didn’t until I was 21). But in the opening episodes of the series especially, I’d very much chalk this up to writers exploring the characters.

2. As for Blake - there are, from what I remember, three kisses in the entire show so far. The one between Jaune and Pyrrha - on the lips after prolonged romantic allusions between the two (their romance is explicitly referenced by Nora - “practice what you preach, Pyrrha.” - almost fitting that it’s Nora to call out the Bees in Season 7 - A Night Off, no? Neat little parallel for y’all). The one between Ren and Nora after trying to work out the status of their romantic relationship - again, on the lips. And the one where Blake says goodbye (and thank you) to Sun by kissing him... On the cheek. (So hot, I know). Which is immediately followed up with Sun telling Neptune “it was never about that”. One of these is not like the other, can you guess which? I’ll wait.

As for referencing Monty - I could go on all day about this one, and the quote most notoriously used is ‘they’re a sisterhood’. Firstly, let me just say that I find it disturbing that anyone would use the show’s deceased creator as ammunition, whilst also disregarding his other comments on LGBT rep - specifically, ‘maybe there are LGBT characters there now / they’re just kids rn and figuring it out / it needs to be earned’. But also, it’s really disturbing and egotistical that anybody would pretend to know what Monty wanted better than the crew he handpicked, worked with, collaborated with and was friends with (special mention to the fact that his own brother is one of the cast). If you truly want to honour his legacy, then show respect to the people he put his trust in.

“I don’t have an issue with BB, but why does it always have to take away from Yang’s moments with Ruby?” / “All Yang’s feelings for her sister transferred to Blake.”

One from the hall of fame. The age old question of ‘can a girl have a romantic partner and still care about her family?’ I wish this wasn’t a serious question, but there are actual sides of the Fandom that seem to think that Yang’s forgotten about her sister that she raised because she has feelings for someone and that the sole purpose of Yang’s existence is to be her sister’s keeper.

I’mma address this on 3 fronts. 1 - Logistically, the episodes for RWBY, excluding the intros, are 15-20 mins long currently and typically oversee several different storylines particularly as the cast grows larger, leaving us with... What? About 5 minutes of team RWBY interactions? It’s not a lot of time to pack in character development, relationship development, plotline, strategy etc. so often if they’re wanting to develop more than one relationship, they will alternate between putting these themes in the background (such as the yellow in Blake’s sword, references from other characters etc.) and foreground, and some developments have to be shoulder-to-shoulder to fit them in. This isn’t an indicator of how much one character cares for one another and is more a demon created by people’s perception of how they ‘think’ a protective sister should act.

Additionally, it should be noted that Yang fawning over Ruby and not allowing her to develop other relationships outside of her sister, would actually offer us nothing from a development perspective for both Yang and Ruby’s characters and would, instead, steer these two strong female characters down a path of co-dependency.

2 - It feels like a very easy excuse for Anti-BB folk to throw out there, conveniently forgetting how great of a sister Yang actually is (contrary to the number of RWDE videos I’ve seen arguing otherwise, as this is an essay I could write in itself). These very often take isolated incidents out of context and conveniently forget important information like Yang 1. Literally sacrificing herself twice to protect her sister 2. Sacrificing her entire childhood to raise her sister and 3. Importantly, the fact that Ruby is her (self-sufficient) Team Leader needs to be factored into their dynamic, as Yang gives her space to find herself as a leader and steps in when her sister actually needs her - not when the audience thinks she does. People hear ‘protectiveness’ and seem to think that this should mean that Yang should be overbearing.

3 - Anyone who says this doesn’t have siblings. I have older and younger siblings and, having largely raised my younger sibling, I can safely say that I still love them even when I’m in a relationship. I also feel extremely secure in arguing/disagreeing with any of my siblings because I inherently know they will still be there at the end of the day - a sibling love goes deep (referencing ‘Fault’ from Volume 8). However, in a romantic relationship that is not established and very new... you will feel insecure, that’s normal, it doesn’t have the luxury of established stability that siblings do, and therefore you will overtly express more anxiety about this as a result. It’s a very strange concept that if you have a sibling, you need to give them all of your attention and ignore any love interests. Yang has gone through her own traumas, she has every right to care about others, heal herself, and have a life that isn’t defined by being a caretaker for her sister. ESPECIALLY as she already gave up her childhood to fulfil this role, unselfishly AND as the person she’s bonding with is best poised to understand Yang’s trauma. Yang as a character deserves to receive the love she constantly gives out. Again, this is a demon born from the fact that it either doesn’t reflect the relationship commentors have with their siblings, or the fact that they’re *imagining* how that relationship should be.

Bonus picture below: Yang putting aside her anguish for Summer Rose, who she considered to be her mother, to prioritise comforting her sister about that same loss.

“I hate BB shippers because they pass off BS interactions as platonic. BS made more sense, there was no build-up to BB until Vol 6 and they let the BS build-up go to waste to force BB.”

First off, there’s nothing wrong with BlackSun as a ship. Shipping shouldn’t be dictated by canonicity and people have the right to ship it and to their opinions. And while a few of these seem to have referenced BS, I don’t actually think that BS shippers are at fault for the hatred coming this way, but rather that the ship seems to get used as ammunition from the Anti-BB crowd - to summarise, Anti-BB and BS shippers are not synonymous. I personally don’t ship BS, but I do enjoy the debate and actually think that Sun is a very important part of Blake’s development and arc. There did seem to be some form of mutual attraction between Blake and Sun. Had they gone down that route, I wouldn’t have hated it, I just never felt excited by it, which seems to be a large consensus amongst BB fans. An appreciation whilst feeling there was a better alternative.

Believing all the development between Sun and Blake was ‘wasted’ is also very closed-minded given how much he helped Blake in the White Fang arc and also disregards the importance of their friendship. BS has the potential to be one of the best and most supportive friendships in the series, I stand by that.

That said, I don’t think it’s entirely wrong to acknowledge that a lot of (not all) interactions between BS were platonic from Blake’s pov while Sun’s feelings were more explicit. The only real hint I saw of Blake reciprocating was a blush at the Vytal festival. Maybe the dance at a stretch, but there’s hints at both BS and BB and I will fight you on it. Now, it might be a question of timing; Adam was still a prevalent threat during this time which will have been weighing on Blake given the resurgence of the White Fang, and is clear when Adam rocks up seeking vengeance in Volume 3. For this reason, I honestly think it would have been disingenuous to have explored Blake in a full relationship with anyone at this point given these loose ends, and Blake undergoes a lot of development over volumes 4-6 as a direct result of this.

Additionally, if BB didn’t begin until Volume 6 then that means that BS had 4-5 volumes to happen - 2 of which where they were in their own arc, separated from the main cast. It didn’t happen. What happens instead is Blake’s guilt over Yang weighs heavily on her while she deals with her arc and Sun helps her come to terms with this, ultimately redirecting her back to her team, and Yang, while Sun’s interactions with her become increasingly platonic from his side.

Lastly, the only way you don’t see build up for BB, is if you actively will yourself not to see build-up. If you replace Blake and Yang’s moments with Sun, I don’t feel there’d be any misunderstandings on how these moments are supposed to be interpreted. Take off the hetero goggles, and we’re cool.

But on a sidenote and personal pet peeve of mine, the cries of ‘BB is forced while BS had build-up’ will forever irritate me - BB has a slow burn, a full arc, developed from a friendship and partnership as well as several tropes and allusions without going into too much detail. BS, firstly, never ended up happening, but it starts when Sun runs past, winks at Blake, magically knows she’s a faunus, then proceeds to follow around a girl he doesn’t know for two days who, at his own admission, didn’t speak that whole time. But... BB is forced? I’d say it’s subjective, but logic defies when this is the barometer for a natural introduction of a romantic pair.

“BB is ‘queerbait’”

Let’s address the ‘Goliath’ in the room, shall we? ‘Queerbaiting’ gets thrown around like a reflex at the moment by pseudo-fans who I don’t believe actually know the gravity of their statements or the meaning behind the word. I often see this slur paired with BB being strung out to keep the shippers watching. Now, there’s an essay in itself that could exist in this section, but are people really still clowning themselves that a show that’s explicitly shown that it wants to have queer representation in the cast and foreground is ‘queerbaiting’ it’s audience? Even weirder for me is the part of the FNDM saying that it’ll be baiting if they make BB canon. Please stop this nonsense and do some research.

Now, one thing I would like to tackle is that, sadly, some will still see pairings on the show through heteronormative glasses, so let me use that here. If the pair were a m/f couple and had several seasons of development and increasingly intimate moments, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that 1. It was heading in the direction of canon and 2. That it was a slow burn romance that’s building to its’ climax. Interestingly, the show actually does use the hetero goggles to frame BB on several occasions by paralleling this budding romance with several straight ships such as Arkos and Renora. Why? Because this is a narrative technique often used by writers to frame LGBT romances to separate them from ‘just friendships’ and, let’s face it, use an unconscious heteronormative bias to their advantage.

“BB is badly written, they barely interacted in volumes 1-3 then didn’t speak for two volumes.”

Tickle me pink. Volumes 1-3 are a very strange reference point for ‘in-depth’ development between characters. Crumbs, sure. The odd scene, absolutely. But let’s be real here - the show started as a low budget web series with an onus on cool fighting scenes and, most importantly, the episodes were around 5 minutes long whilst entertaining teams RWBY and JNPR, the White Fang, the Vytal tournament and several other plots. Nobody particularly interacted much but the writers did the best they could with what they had and the rest is left to us, the audience, to interpret that relationships are developing off-screen. Though from a critique POV in the interest of fairness, I would say the current season is a breath of fresh air by re-focusing the plot on the central characters as I think the show can sometimes be guilty of taking on too many plotlines.

As for volumes 4-5, while they’re in different continents, it’s obvious that they’re prevalent in each other’s arcs. Whether it’s Yang admitting she’s struggling with Blake’s abandonment - in the same episode the first lesbian character is revealed confessing their feelings to Blake (sidenote, all of team RWBY left Yang, and it’s Blake she’s mad at, this was always meant to be framed differently to her other teammates and IMO the struggle they go through is meant to frame the characters coming to terms with the depth of what they mean to each other), the parallels of them both getting onto the ship (named ‘Pride’ - wink wink), or Blake actively struggling to talk about Yang, yet referencing it when Sun is hurt (“Not again!”) showing it’s at the forefront of her mind. All of which culminates in their reunion in the Vol 5 finale.

Is it the best writing ever? No, nothing’s perfect. But they do explicitly use parallels throughout the series to drive the narrative forward as a foreshadowing tool to strengthen subplots.

“Blake being bisexual makes no sense - she was interested in Sun, it just seems so out of the blue, she and Yang just seemed like friends to me.”

Funny, because she and Sun seemed like friends to me too.

There are so many things I wanted to fire back at this, from the insinuation that if a woman first shows interest in a man then it’s out of the blue that she’s bisexual now that she’s showing interest in a woman... Like, how do you think it happens for bisexuals IRL?! Did you want her to burst onto the scene in Volume 1, announce she likes men and women, and then express explicit simultaneous interest in both of them? Start a harem? Proposition a throuple?

This particular take amuses me most of all as someone who is very openly bisexual. Yes, she and Yang seemed like friends. Great friends, in fact. That hold hands and blush and want to spend all their time together. And check each other out when the other isn’t looking. And make excuses for casual physical contact and flirt and giggle like a couple of giddy teenagers. Just like me and my ‘best friend’ did, before I realised I was bi. I’m sure that a lot of people thought it came out of the blue for me too. Blake being oblivious to being bisexual until it becomes too obvious to ignore is actually a very realistic scenario.

Bonus headline - just because you don’t understand/identify with something, doesn’t mean that it’s not good representation or realistic. I feel it’s also important to mention Blake’s VA, Arryn Zech, is bisexual and has spoken numerous times on the matter. The reason I bring this up is because it’s clear that the way in which the bisexuality of her character is presented on the show is actually something that’s incredibly important to Arryn - because good representation is significant.

Presenting labels and sexuality on Remnant: A Theory and - “BB is a terrible representation of LGBT and your critique ignores the female and LGBT people that have spoken out against it.”

They say, to someone who is both female and LGBT. Credit to the Anon who charged into my inbox to accuse me of the above - hope you enjoy. Now, there’s a couple of things I’d like to cover before I go into how sexuality is perceived in-universe. The first is that if you use this argument against someone who is queer without seeing the belligerent hypocrisy of your statement, please check yourself as, clearly, you only care about LGBT voices on representation when it aligns with your own rhetoric and ready to dismiss any narrative to the contrary from that same community.

Secondly, the queer/LGBT community is a vast and vibrant community of *individuals* with their own opinions and own voices. I didn’t nominate anyone to speak on my behalf, just as I don’t speak on the behalf of the rest of the community. Moreover, any art is open to interpretation. My opinion does not override theirs, nor does their opinion erase my own. And, believe it or not, it’s quite possible to have two or more differing opinions within one community without being at war with one another. I respect their opinion, just as I hope they respect mine.

We clear? Great. Onto the analysis! Huge shoutout to @crimsonxe for the brilliant discussion and assistance with the analysis in the comments that helped me construct this section! You’re awesome.

Let’s dive in with the headline - Homophobia doesn’t appear to be an issue on Remnant and labels don’t appear to exist, in the sense that it doesn’t appear anywhere in-universe. Now just to pre-emptively disclaimer: this may change, but in 9 volumes and however many supplementary materials, we’ve not heard any labels or had any representation of this type of discrimination. If that changes, I’ll happily remove this.

So why is this important, you ask? Ultimately, when you take away the inherent ‘fear’ that a lot of the LGBT community face IRL along with prevalent ignorance towards the community and society’s insistence on labelling sexualities and gender identity, it creates a world divorced from our own and is, from a narrative point of view, a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it allows the characters to explore themselves in a non-discriminatory environment that is inherently more fluid and free, whilst the audience will inevitably want to compare that to their own experiences. But we can’t - not properly - due to the still very real stigma and discrimination that exists in our own world. Instead, what we see are characters who express an interest in other characters and find other ways to allude to their preferences or identity. A prime example of this would be May, canonically a trans character, who does not use this term in-world but instead says, “To the Marigolds that meant I wasn’t their son, and I made sure everyone knew I wasn’t their daughter.” This is a theme that is poignantly reflected in the accompanying media for the series - such as the books; for instance, Coco, canonically lesbian, referring to “breaking the hearts of many women.”

How does this tie into the relationship with Blake and Yang? Glad you asked. If you bear in mind that Remnant has a very fluid outlook on sexuality and more of a ‘love who you love’ ethos which is blind to gender norms, it immediately subverts the assumption that interactions between m/f are romantic while f/f are platonic. It’s an open field, if you will. BB is a steady build from partner/best friend (though I’d argue that at least Yang had an immediate attraction, with Blake figuring herself out) with interactions that become increasing more intimate. Eye rolls and jokes become winks and innuendo (“I love it when you’re feisty!”), nudges become intimate hugs (Burning the Candle), become hand-holding (it isn’t coincidence that these two have held hands more than any other pair in the series), becomes pining, blushing, forehead touches (BB and Renora - remember those parallels), which evolves into flirting and... More. And yes, some of their interactions will still resemble the friendship they built their foundations on. But in a world where labels don’t exist, that journey from friend-to-lover is much more subtle and embedded in a gentle upwards curve of increasing intimacy.

“BB is only happening because the horrible BB fans demanded it, the show caved and gave in to the toxic fanbase, it wasn’t planned from the beginning.”

I’ve seen this in so many places, like a broken record. I have no doubt that there are BB fans that are fanatical, and I’d never justify the behaviour of any so-called fan that resorts to death threats or violence in any way. I’m hoping this surely must be a minority that has, hopefully, shrunk over the years as the audience has matured. However, this also really isn’t how shows work...

As many have pointed out in recent weeks, the show would be a very different landscape altogether if CRWBY were, in fact, that easily swayed by fans; namely, I’m thinking of Clover/Qrow, Pyrrha, Penny etc. While I don’t doubt that show-makers pay attention to the fanbase where needed and where it’ll be beneficial (seeing how fans react to developments, if allusions are clear etc.), sending death threats or whatever is actually much more counterproductive than anything else. But also... You’re not on the crew, you’re not part of those discussions. I feel confident that Miles, Kiersi and Kerry aren’t writing BB content with a gun to their head.

Lastly, the ‘it wasn’t planned from the beginning’ war cry is a tale as old as time. Like Beauty and the Beast. (See what I did there?) Asides from the fact that 1. Yang and Blake were actually the first created out of the team, and made with each other in mind, regardless of in what context (check out the original character designs/concepts) 2. Even if it wasn’t planned from the beginning, what difference does it make? There are tonnes of examples where the writers have felt the chemistry between two characters as the story’s gone on and decided to put them together (case-in-point from outside the anime world.. Chandler and Monica from Friends). In fact, while some writers like to plan every element of their plot from the beginning, there’s a great many writers who allow the characters to steer the plot as they grow - especially arcs with romantic undertones. The series was made predominantly for the action - it’s not a romantic series, so if they didn’t plan it from the beginning that wouldn’t be unusual, especially given that the episodes of the first few volumes are literally 5-10 minutes long. But regardless of whether the romance of the two was planned or not planned, it does not make it any less meaningful.

But let’s be real, the issue at heart isn’t that they weren’t sucking face in the first 3 seasons, it’s that they thought Blake would be with a guy, and she chose a girl. To which I say... Get over your bruised ego, and move on.

“BB fans deserve the hate they get because of x, y, z and cos it has toxic shippers.”

And you’re... Not... Toxic? If you’re an Anti-BB shipper and go out of your way to stalk and comment on BB tags/accounts just to harass shippers etc, then are you any better than the toxic fans you supposedly hate? To me, following BB tags and looking at BB content whilst being an Anti-BB shipper is so weird, why you trying to hurt your own feelings?

Also, saying that innocent shippers who are just living their best life should bear the burden of the toxic FNDM, is literally the definition of tarring everyone with the same brush. Some of us just want to eat our crumbs in peace, and from our POV, you’re the toxic ones being disrespectful. Bonus point: others being toxic does not give you licence to be hateful to anyone you come across that doesn’t agree with you.

“I’m no longer watching the show cos it’s trying too hard to be ‘woke’”

This ain’t an airport, you don’t need to announce your departure. But since you are, if your issue is the gay representation in the show then wake up and look around... We’re everywhere. The show is literally just reflecting the diversity you see day-to-day; but you keep sipping that haterade, my dude, we’re here to stay.

#anti rwde #rwby analysis #bumbleby #rwby

610 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 2 years ago

Text

Starboy

● PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

● SUMMARY: When on one day Mr. Bateman came to your office, you never knew how far it could go.

● WARNINGS: Implied flirt, seduction, small innocent touches, sweet-talker Patrick Bateman himself, minor possessive behaviour.

● WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

● A/N: One more prequel about Patrick and his little Cupcake, I enjoy writing their backstory so much! Btw, I was inspired by this American Psycho edit. As always, I hope you like this chapter!💕

● SONG REC: The Weeknd - Starboy✨

● LINKS: [Sweet like a Cupcake Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

The days after that “little accident” with Mr. Bateman felt like a horrible nightmare.

You were constantly thinking about losing your job, strolling around your office and watching the sun's rays breaking through the window. What if you just stayed silent and let him ground you into the dirt, soaking up all the shit he was saying–would your boss be satisfied with you then?

The click of the door opening caught your attention before Cindy’s sonorous voice reached your ear. “(Y/N), we should go get coffee! Our favorite barista finally came back. Woohoo, no more shitty coffee!”

With a dull smile on your face, you tapped the papers on your desk. “I need to finish this by the afternoon.” You looked over the documents again, and then sighed. “Just go without me.”

She whined, disappointment clear in her voice, and when you looked at her, she was already standing in the doorway, checking the time on her watch. “I’ll just rush, so our coffee won’t get cold. Do you want a latte or cappuccino?”

“Dealer’s choice,” you chuckled and took your place at the deck. “Just… Don't spill it… Okay?”

“Alright, alright…”

Then she walked away, leaving you alone in your office again. Back to work.

Leafing through the documents was a kind of meditation for you–it helped soothe your mind, distracting you from obsessive thoughts.

Your edits were quick, slashing across the page, adding notes in the margin with a well-loved red pen. The door opened again. “What did you forget this time?” you asked, not looking up. “Cindy, could you also bring me a cupcake–”

“Good afternoon.” A familiar, tenor voice caused your whole body to taut like a string. You knew who it was before you even looked up.

Ever hauntingly perfect, Patrick Bateman was standing in the doorway, casting a studying glance at you. You stood up abruptly, anticipating nothing but the worst. He might really be so vindictive to come in person with your termination notice.

“(Y/N), isn’t it?” he asked smoothly, closing the door behind him.

“Yes, that’s me,” you replied, attempting to sound as confident as you could. “How can I help you, sir?”

“First, call me Patrick,” he gave you his most cocky snow-white smile, roaming around your office and getting closer to your desk. “And please, relax. I’m not here to fire you.”

The corners of your mouth twitched slightly, but that didn’t really ease the tension. His presence here was making you feel weirdly thrilled.

"As you wish, sir, but I’m afraid that a first-name basis breaks the subordination rules of our company,” you pressed the pen against the tabletop, leaning a bit on your other hand. “Penalties are strictly enforced for things like that.”

Amused, Bateman was standing in front of your table, so the smell of his cologne easily hit your nose. “Our previous meeting was… Well, it was horrible as hell,” he said, watching you nervously rap the pen. “I just want to apologize, and I hope you’ll let me take you to lunch, at least.”

With a sharp click, your pen flew away in an unknown direction, but you just ignored that, continuing to act naturally. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I usually don’t have time to eat, 'cause I’m pretty busy and–” you stammered a bit as only now you noticed you were looking into each other's eyes for over thirty seconds straight.

“‘And’?”

“My boss won’t be happy if I don’t have these reviews done by–”

“Wait a second.” Patrick held up a finger to stop you before he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m your boss, sweetie.”

Gulping, you had no choice but to turn your face into a friendly expression and grin politely. “With all respect, sir, you’re the boss of my boss. And, I really need to finish these.”

Patrick huffed as he stared at you, his hazel eyes spinning with green and brown, until they were a hypnotizing spiral that sucked you in. “Okay, I think I get it.” He shook his head, smirking all the time from how timidly you were batting your eyelashes. “Now listen (Y/N), in two hours I will be at Four Seasons, the one down here,” he quickly checked his Rolex, and then glanced at you again. “I’ll be waiting for you there. Don’t be late.”

As if he didn’t want to give you a chance to refuse, Bateman turned around and left your office. The silence filled up your ears after the door closed. Your chest was rising and falling so quickly; you couldn’t really believe what just happened. Biting your lower lip, you thoughtfully slid your hand against the tabletop–a creeping panic was growing in your gut, making it hard for you to breathe.

When Cindy returned fifteen minutes later, you didn’t say even a word about what had happened just before she came back, because it would sound completely absurd. And considering her previous reaction to what you told her about Mr. Bateman, she would probably burn with envy. But there was one more problem–how to sneak out from the office without anyone asking questions?

“Erm, Cindy…I’m going on a quick break,” you mumbled as you got up to grab your coat.

“Wait, wait! Where are you going?”

“It’s nothing interesting,” smiling sheepishly, you wrapped a woolen scarf around your neck. “Oh, did I thank you for the coffee? It was really nice!”

“Hey! Stop messing around!” she protested, standing up from her seat, with arms crossed. “You usually don’t go anywhere for ‘breaks’!”

Sighing, you took your bag and glanced at your watch. Plenty of time. “I’ll tell you when I get back, okay?” a small bluff wouldn't be an issue–you concluded, watching Cindy sadly pouting. “One of our colleagues asked me for lunch, that’s all, you know. Nothing special…”

“And who’s this cutie pie? Ah, don’t tell me, I think I know who it is!” She clapped her hands, and her voice trilled with excitement. “If you say that it’s that nerd from our computer department, I’m gonna die!”

Humming, you gave yourself a few seconds to think before replying: “Yes, it’s him.”

“Eeeee!” she giggled, shushing herself with a palm. “Oh, my gosh, poor ‘Romeo’ finally made a step!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chided, holding out your hands to soothe her. “I don’t have much time, and I still need to find the place where we’re having lunch. So, see you later… Oh, and Cindy, if the boss calls, please tell her I’m out for some office supplies.”

On that bright note, you left your office, with mysterious excitement.

It was your first time at Four Seasons, though you heard a lot of positive reviews about this place from the top management of P & P. Once you made just one step inside the restaurant, you met at least three or four good-looking females, all dressed with expensive clothes and jewelry. After a quick examination of yourself, you had to admit—your office uniform was looking unsuitable for this kind of an establishment, but who would care? If one arrogant snob didn’t force you to come here, all restaurant visitors wouldn't have to suffer from your “super luxury look”—you giggled sarcastically to yourself before you approached the maître d' — a young blond lady with a very deep neckline. As soon as she noticed you, she gave you a suspiciously friendly smile and greeted you:

“Good afternoon, Miss and welcome to the Four Seasons. My name is Veronica. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hello!” you smiled back. “There should be a reservation under Mr. Bateman.”

The last words you said made her face change literally before your eyes and now it was not as friendly as one minute ago. “Let me check please,” she was sorting through the pages of the logbook, looking at you from time to time from under her long lashes. “Please, follow me.”

The closer you were getting to the table, the more you felt an uprising fear in your chest and you couldn’t really understand what was really scaring you that much: him, this fancy place, or all of these things together. Wrapped in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice you had already reached the place as the maître d' extended her hand, inviting you to take the seat just across from Patrick, who at that moment was studying the menu, with his face half covered by it.

“Have a good time!” The blonde glanced at you contemptuously for the last time before she strolled away.

“Thanks…” You replied to no one, nervously undoing your scarf.

“Glad to see you again, sit down.” Bateman murmured, putting the menu aside, his brown eyes were exploring your frame like a scanner.

“I hope I am not late.”

“No, you are just in time,” he smirked as you finally sat in front of him, your hands nervously fixing the sleeves of your white blouse. “What do you usually prefer to drink? Tea, water, maybe coffee?”

“I had enough coffee today, but thank you,” you looked at him more confidently, as your strategy for this lunch was pretty simple–be nice, friendly, and polite. “This place is so lovely!”

“You think so?”

“Uh, yes. Well, I’m not the type of person who goes on lunch to such places,” you paused as you noticed how attentively he was listening to you, raising his right eyebrow. “So, I don't know what to compare it to, but this one looks exquisite.”

You heard him chuckling softly before Bateman took a sip of his whiskey, pointing at the menu with his stare. “Choose what you want to eat.”

With a warm grin on your face, you took the menu but once you saw the prices–you felt your hair standing on edge. “You know, I’m not really hungry.”

“Stop pretending, sweetie,” damn, did he call you like that again? “If you were not hungry you wouldn’t ask your friend to bring you a cupcake, right?”

Stunned by his sudden trick, you hid behind the menu for a second to reflect on what to answer him back. “You have a significant memory, Mr. Bateman.”

“It’s Patrick,” he smiled at you flirtatiously while his piercing gaze seemed trying to catch any little weaknesses of yours. “As you should know, my type of work requires such things.”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“And… I really prefer you to call me Patrick, but on the other hand, the way you say ‘Mr. Bateman’ sounds kinda hot.”

You nearly let out a nervous laugh but you held back yourself as you gave him a confused look.

Unlike you, Bateman couldn’t help but snigger at your reaction. “Relax, silly. I’m joking.”

“That's what I thought…” You were acting as if nothing happened, desperately trying to suppress an unknown frisson inside your body.

Then, a tall dark-haired waiter got your attention as he came across your table, with a notebook in his hands. “Are you ready to order, sir?”

“Beef Steak with Grilled Vegetables and Sweet Potatoes,” Patrick pointed with a finger, forcing his golden Rolex to wiggle on his wrist. “(Y/N), did you make your choice?”

“To be honest, I’d rather eat something sweet,” you glimpsed at the waiter with hope, because you didn’t even see the dessert menu. “Maybe you can recommend something to me?”

“We have amazing cheesecakes and tiramisu-”

“A dessert for lunch?” Bateman asked in surprise, cutting off the waiter and leaving you a bit embarrassed. “I think Sweet Pea and Tuna Salad sounds better,” he waited for the busboy to take away the menu and then added: “It’s healthier, and it tastes delicious. You are gonna like it.”

Confused, you watched the waiter walking away when you suddenly blurted out: “Actually, you could make an order without asking-”

“I could, but I wanted to give you a chance,” the way he kept interrupting everyone was really pissing you off. “So, how long have you been working in our company? Cause I can’t really remember you,” frowning a bit, he leaned on the back of his chair. “You must be a new one?”

With a cunning smirk, you took a glass of mineral water that was already standing on the table. “Well, you can say that,” you smiled again before continuing: “I’ve been working as an accountant in Pierce & Pierce for two years already.”

Satisfied with how awkward he was looking right now, you made a victorious sip of water, waiting for his next step.

“Two years… Huh, that’s a lot!”

“Yes, but it’s fine we never met,” you stated, meeting his languid gaze more decisively. “Usually, top management doesn’t see any of its workers and it’s okay.”

Bateman nodded, humming something to himself as if the puzzle inside his head finally completed. “Mm-hm, I hope you’re happy with your job and you don’t feel overworked.”

Was it some kind of test? As much as you wanted to lament about all of your grievances, you couldn’t take any risks–how could you even trust the guy who first antagonized you and then asked you out for lunch… in Four Fucking Seasons. That was so weird.

“I love everything about my work. But of course, it’s not perfect but nowhere is.” You replied confidently.

“Don’t you mind if I smoke?” Before Bateman asked, he was already having a cigar in his hand.

Even if you did, what would you say?

“Go on.”

And then you suddenly lost it, as you watched him lighting his cigar after your words, and you could swear to God–never in your life, you saw a man who was smoking sexier than that. Mesmerized, you couldn't take your eyes off of his beautiful features, especially his ideal cheekbones, which looked so sharp–you thought you could cut yourself if you touch them… Touch them?

Meanwhile, Patrick was definitely rambling about something, but you could only see how his perfectly shaped lips curled whenever he was speaking, and damn… His side profile seemed to be forged by a sculptor, as you didn’t really have any other explanations for how this man could be so fine… Wait, what were you even thinking?

“(Y/N), are you listening?” His concerned voice took you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, yes… Sorry! I just remembered about my report, which I should finish today and-”

“So, you’re really overworked if you can’t even stop thinking about your job while being here with me.”

Did he sound really offended, or it was just your slightly clouded mind–you couldn’t really find an answer as he added:

“Maybe I should speak with your boss about this?” he puffed on his cigar, giving you a challenging glance. “And guess what? I think we should have dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” smirking, Bateman blew some smoke rings, his dark eyes glowing with excitement. “Dinner, where we can chill a bit and have a proper conversation. Not like this.”

Just as you were about to reply, the waiter brought your meals, how unfortunate–you thought before taking a napkin, and of course, you touched his palm because Patrick was doing just the same thing. As if you were in some romance movie, you took your hand away like from fire, but that only spurred him to catch your palm again, stroking it nearly notably, and somehow, this time you didn’t even make a move—you only gasped. Rising your eyes on him, you could only see a devilish grin of satisfaction on his face and there was nothing really left for you to do, rather than ask yourself if that was really happening.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader

485 notes · View notes

xmads-omensx · 2 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 1 - I SIT HERE AND SMILE DEAR

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 4,091

Content warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, violence f you squint (pushing and shoving in a malicious way), mentions of alcohol, Ronnie Radke, blood, descriptions of a small wound

Tag List: @concreteangel92 @lma1986 @dragonfly92 @thisis--mj @bloody-delusion-expert @girlagainstg0d

(Please message or comment if you would like to be added to the taglist, or if I forgot to add you <3)

WARPED TOUR 2011 BECCA

My knee bounced up and down as I sat on the leather sofa in the tour bus. We had never had a proper tour bus before. The closest thing we had was Theo’s Dad’s old van that kept breaking down. Nerves shot through my body as I tried to slow my heart-rate and regain my normal breathing.

Warped Tour was by far the biggest tour we had ever done. Sure, we were still supporting other bands, but we weren’t performing in a small, run-down dive bar. This was real. Bring Me The Horizon. Pierce The Veil. Sleeping With Sirens. All Time Low. Motionless In White. Our favourite bands were playing alongside us. We were one of them.

“Quit bouncing your leg Becca, I feel like I’m experiencing a fucking earthquake right now, jeez.” Johnny, our bass player, complained.

The rest of the guys erupted in laughter.

“Calm your tits, Johnny! Leave me alone.” I laughed in reply.

I had never been this nervous for a set before. We only had one album out, Arachnophobia, that had been doing reasonably well, but I was still so nervous. What if we get booed off stage? What if we fuck up the timings? What if I trip and fall flat on my fucking face? Worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind at lightning speed, corrupting whatever positive and confident thought that I still possessed.

“I need some air.” I said to the guys in a small voice.

“You good?” Kevin, our lead guitar player called out to me from his seat at the opposite end of the sofa.

“No. I just need a minute of fresh air.” I tried to reassure him, ultimately failing miserably.

“You sure?” Luke, our rhythm guitar player asked from his bunk.

“Yep. I won’t be long.” I mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear.

I walked around the festival site for a little while. The tents where bands were stood meeting fans and selling merch were absolutely packed. We had been selling merch and meting some fans as well, but nowhere near the scale of any of the bands situated near our tent.

This was our first ever festival. As I said, we were a small band. No one really knew who we were. That could also be said about some of the other bands on this tour as well to be fair. Warped Tour seemed like a brilliant opportunity for new fans to start listening to us when our manager, Nick, pitched it to us. But now it seemed like literal hell on earth. God, what if people left our set?

I tried to push those thoughts down, but nothing worked. As soon as I forced out one doubt, another just popped up in its place. It felt like my mind was the hydra from ancient Greek myth. Equally as venomous and persistent. It was going to be difficult to keep those negative feelings at bay for the rest of the tour. I had always struggled with not feeling good enough, and this tour was just amplifying those ideas. If nobody came to our set, everything would have been for nothing.

My phone started ringing in my pocket after about twenty minutes of my walk. It was Nick. I stared at the screen for a second. Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

“Hey.” I said straight after answering the call.

“Hey yourself! Your set is in five minutes Bex. Get your ass to the stage right fucking now before I either lose my shit or lose my job. Whichever comes first.” Nick yelled down the line over the band who were finishing up their set before ours was due to start. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yep I’ll be there in a sec. I lost track of time, sorry.” I replied hurriedly.

“Great. Thanks. See you in a sec then.” Nick finished.

I started running back towards the stage when I bumped into something. It felt like a lamppost or something tall and thin like that. Except there weren’t any lampposts here. I looked up to see a tall, heavily tattooed man with long, black hair looking down at me with a slightly pained smile on his beautiful face.

I didn’t have time for this. I called out a quick sorry as I kept running towards the stage.

By the time I got there, I was doubled over and panting trying to catch my breath. “She’s here!” Luke shouted as I rounded the corner to the side-stage area. I was handed a microphone by Nick

“Good luck you guys. You’ve got this.” Nick encouraged with his arms round mine and Johnny’s shoulders. I took a breath in through my nose and out through my mouth as the rest of the guys walked onto the stage to begin the intro to the first song on our album, Make me Wanna Die, “Give ‘em hell kid.” Nick whispered in my ear with a pat on my back. I closed my eyes for a second then stepped out onto the stage.

The world around me seemed to slow down as I lifted my mic up to my mouth to start the song. My lyrics flew out of my mouth with a natural ease. This wasn’t as hard as I thought. A large crowd had formed at the stage. Not too bad for our first show of the tour. Some people in the crowd were singing along to the song, which filled me with pure joy and unrivalled confidence. I started to move and jump across the stage which excited the crowd even more. By the time we were halfway through our set, the crowd had grown significantly and even began singing even louder to the words that they knew.

I had never experienced such a buzz from the crowd. It felt electric. Looking at the rest of the band, it looked like they felt the same. Wide, beaming smiles were plastered on their faces. I was sure I wore a similar one on my own face. In fact, my face hurt because of the smile that covered my face.

Up until this point, the largest show that we had ever played was to only about eighty people. But now, we were performing to a crowd of about two hundred and fifty. It wasn’t a massive crowd by any means, but it was huge to us. All of our favourite bands started out like this, playing for much smaller crowds. It gave me hope that one day we could be as big as those bands. Someday.

“How is everyone doing?” I shouted into my microphone.

The crowd cheered in response. Holy shit.

“You guys having fun?” I asked.

The crowd cheered in response again. This felt so surreal.

“That’s good. We are too. You guys have been a great crowd.” I began. “This is our first Warped Tour, so thanks for making our first show sop fun because we are having an absolute blast up here.”

The crowd cheered and applauded.

“As you have probably gathered, I’m not exactly brilliant at this whole crowd work thing, but I’m not really used to crowds as fantastic as you guys.” I said with a huge grin on my face.

The crowed roared with cheers and applause.

“So anyway, this song is our last song of the set, and if you don’t mind we would like to play r for you.” I began. “I mean, it’s not like you really have much of a choice, we pre-decided the setlist before we came on stage.”

Laughter erupted around me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall, skinny guy with long dark hair cascading over his shoulders with tattoos on his arms, at least I thought they were tattoos. I couldn’t tell if it was black paint or tattoos. Either way, they looked good. He was standing backstage with four other guys who were all fitted in similar outfits. They must be the band following us. The man who caught my eye was the tallest of the group. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place it.

“This song was written by one of my favourite bands and are one of the bands who inspired me to pursue music. We hope you have had a great time here watching our set. We have been The Magpies and this is ‘Call Me’ by Blondie.

The intro started and an immense sense of joy coursed through my veins. Since I was a kid, Debbie Harry had been one of my heroes and I was so proud that we got to play one of her songs to a crowd of people.

And that was the moment that I knew we were going to make it.

“Holy fucking shit guys, you crushed that.” Nick yelled out at us with an impossibly huge grin plastered on his face. He clapped us each one-by-one as we came off of the stage. “The crowd fucking loved you guys.”

“That was kickass.” Luke exclaimed with a look that I can only describe as pure joy.

“Dude what the fuck just happened.” Johnny exclaimed.

“Fuck that was sick!” Kevin yelled directly into my ear as he swung his arm over my shoulder.

“Damn I’m pumped!” Theo laughed.

“How the fuck did we pull that off?” I laughed along with the rest of the guys.

“Because we are hot shit Bex. Hot fucking shit.” Kevin shouted back at us as he followed Nick away from the stage and towards the bus.

I paused for a moment and watched the guys, my family, walk ahead of me. I never thought anything like this could happen to us. Let alone at such a young age. I was only 18 when we did our first Warped Tour.

“Come on slow coach we want to go hang before the barbeque.” Nick called back at me. I laughed and followed after them

Every year, there was a barbeque on the first day of tour. It was mainly so that everyone in all the bands and crew could meet eachother. Kind of like an icebreaker night I guess. This was going to be the most nervous I had been so far, including the show. Because now, I had no choice but to meet all of those bands who were practically the reason that I made music. Plus, I was pretty confident in saying that meeting Oli Sykes in person might literally kill me.

The fact that we would be meeting our heroes in such a short space of time was seriously starting to make me freak out. How were we worthy of all of this?

We made it to the bus and all sat down to play some Xbox together before the barbeque. Luke had flung himself onto the black, leather L-shaped sofa opposite the door.

“I don’t give a fuck what the rest of you want, I’m playing Call Of Duty.” He said whilst signing into the game and running a hand through his short blonde hair.

“What the fuck man! We play that all the fucking time.” Johnny complained.

“Let me be play too and you can do whatever you want.” Kevin laughed whilst grabbing the second controller and joining Luke in the game.

“Fuck you guys I’m going to have a nap before we have to go.” Theo sighed with a yawn, tying his shoulder length, curly brown hair into a low bun as he walked towards his bunk.

I sat next to Luke and laughed at their childish bickering as they played their game. Johnny sat shouting commands at the two other boys.

“If you want to sit there and yell at us then you should have joined the fucking game asshole.” Kevin laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they had begun to slip down.

“Fuck you, there’s only two controllers dipshit.” Johnny argued back.

I started to block out their arguing as I picked up the book that I had been reading and snuggled further into the corner of the sofa. I had found comfort in books during the very short time that we had been touring. Sure, performing on stage was an escape from real life, for both us and the crowd, but that was still work at the end of the day. Reading, however, had the power to transport you to a different world entirely, a different dimension even if that’s what you wanted to find. It allowed my mind to escape the cage that it was trapped in and explore the endless possibilities that life held. It allowed me to hide from my problems. To escape reality. To run and never stop running, not until I was happy, not until I was free. And that freedom was the greatest feeling in the world.

Before I knew it, my eyes had started to droop and I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. The best that I would probably have on this tour. My dreams were surprisingly pleasant as I fell deeper into my slumber before a pair of hands grasped my shoulders and began to shake me awake.

“Rebecca…. Beccaa…. Bex…. Beckyyy…..” A deep sing-song voice chanted as he shook my shoulders. My eyes fluttered awake, and leaning over me stood Theo. “There she is.” He said once my eyes had fully opened.

“What?” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes.

“We have to go in like forty minutes, and we thought you might want to get ready.” He went on.

I stood up and stretched my arms over my head before letting out a yawn and making my way to the bathroom so that I could re-do my makeup and brush the birds nest that had formed in my hair.

I decided not to do anything crazy and to just touch up the makeup that I already had on, which was a more natural look with dark brown eyeshadow lining my upper lash line just a little bit. I tied up the top half of my long, brunette hair into a bun at the back of my head, letting some face-framing pieces hang loosely around my face. I changed into a white tank top with spaghetti straps and some black wide-leg ripped jeans with fishnets underneath. I grabbed an old, red Flash hoodie, that previously belonged to my ex but I liked the hoodie too much to return it, and tied it around my waist just in case it got chillier later in the night.

“Okay I’m ready.” I announced to the guys who were all sat on the sofa arguing over what movie to watch later. Unsurprising as they usually had this argument, then would watch a movie that wasn’t even part of the equation to begin with.

“Great, let’s go.” Nick said as he stood up, rubbing his hands together.

We all nodded in agreement and followed him out of the bus and towards the barbeque. There was an opening in the middle of where the buses were parked in which a large fire pit, surrounded by mismatched deckchairs, had been set up. The barbeque itself was positioned next to a staff bus, that the Warped Tour management team were staying in. They were the ones who essentially ran the tour and wanted to ensure that it went as smoothly as possible.

Straight away, a British accent caught my attention as five guys started approaching us. “Hey! You guys must be the Magpies.” One of the men asked us with a huge grin on his face.

Holy fucking shit. Danny Worsnop from Asking Alexandria was talking to us. THE Danny Worsnop from THE Asking Alexandria was talking to us. Us? We were nobodies here. He fucking knew who we were. Holy fucking shit I must still be dreaming.

“Yep that’s us.” Johnny said with a smile on his face, sticking out his arm to shake Danny’s hand. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to introduce yourselves, we are big fans, Becca especially. But I’m Johnny and I’m the bass player, this dumbass is Theo our drummer, Luke and Kevin here are our guitar players, and this shy bitch is Becca, our singer.” Johnny introduced. We each raised our hands in a wave when Johnny said our names.

“It’s so nice to meet you all. It’s about time a new band joined the lineup.” Ben laughed.

“Well, the Black Veil Brides guys are new here.” Cam said.

“Yeah, obviously, but I mean a band we haven’t met before.” Ben laughed at his bandmate and rolled his eyes at Cam playfully.

“We toured with them last year for a while. They’re great guys.” James said to the rest of us.

“Hey, you should totally meet them later if you’re up for it.” Ben enthusiastically suggested.

“Yeah, totally.” Theo said with a smile. “But let’s eat first, I’m fucking starving.”

“Agreed.” Danny laughed. We all started walking towards the barbeque and Ben fell into step with me. We fell into easy conversation. I could tell immediately that we were going to be good friends.

“So how did your first show go?” Ben asked.

“It went fucking amazingly. We’ve never played to a crowd that big before, and they actually seemed to enjoy our set which was fucking brilliant.” I gushed.

“Yeah, I caught some songs towards the end of your set. You guys fucking crushed it. Andy said he saw the last few songs and thought you guys were pretty cool.” He said.

“Andy?” I asked.

“Yeah. Oh shit you haven’t met him yet. He’s the singer in Black Veil Brides. He’s super cool, I think you’d like him.” Ben explained.

“Cool. It’s weird having this many people on a tour together.” I continued. “It’s only ever really been us supporting another band. Never any more than that.”

“I remember when we started out like that. We thought we’d never make it, but look where we are now.” He laughed. “Once you get used to it, it gets less weird.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I replied.

Before I even realised it, we had reached the barbeque. People from various different bands and their crew mingled about as they all socialised with eachother. It seemed as though most of the people here already knew eachother from previous tours.

Ben introduced me to his friends on the tour, which was already a shock to be hanging out with Ben fucking Bruce. I tried to push my nerves down as he introduced me to the likes of Vic Fuentes, Kelin Quinn, Oli Sykes, Chris Motionless and Ricky Horror. I surprised myself with how ‘normal’ I managed to act around them. After all, it’s not every day that you meet your favourite musicians. I tried to remind myself that I would be touring with these people, so it wouldn’t be the best idea to fangirl and embarrass myself the first time I met them.

Ben and I grabbed a burger each and sat down on some of the spare deck chairs to eat them.

“Have you just put gherkins in your fucking burger?” I asked Ben in utter disbelief.

“Yep.” He grinned, popping the p. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course I do that’s disgusting! I don’t think we can be friends after this.” I gasped at him in mock offense.

“Wow. You’re one of those?” Ben chuckled.

“One of what?” I laughed at him.

“Someone who doesn’t have taste.” He laughed.

I threw my dirty napkin at him in response.

“EW!” He screamed dramatically, throwing his own napkin right back at me.

I laughed hysterically at him.

“Okay. I’m glad you two are having fun, but I was sitting there, so if you could just move that would be great.” A deep voice tore through the bliss that I was experiencing with Ben.

“Oh fuck off Ronnie, we both know you weren’t sat here.” Ben rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Bruce? You’re gonna start shit on the first day of tour?” The man, who I assumed was called Ronnie sighed back.

“Just fuck off Ronnie, the no one has to start shit.” Ben said through gritted teeth.

“Seriously man, why do you have to make everything so damn hard all the time!” Ronnie shouted at Ben.

“I’m not the problem here man.” Ben raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Take your pretty friend here, and go suck each other’s faces somewhere else jackass!” Ronnie yelled.

“Woah, woah.” Ben started, raising his voice at Ronnie, “We both know that’s not what was happening here okay. Let’s just move on.”

“Move.” Ronnie said through gritted teeth.

“No.” Ben said with a laugh, as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, relaxing further.

Before I could even register what was happening, Ronnie lunged forward and shoved Ben out of the chair backwards. I jumped up and pushed Ronnie backwards so that he couldn’t lunge towards Ben anymore. Instead, he only stumbled back a few steps before he shoved me backwards too, nocking my beer out of my hand, making it spill all over me. I put my hands below me to try and stop the fall, when I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I lifted my hand up to get a look at it, only to be greeted with a shard of glass poking out the palm of my hand and blood dripping from the wound.

I winced as I slowly tried to pull the broken glass out of my hand, completely oblivious to the fact that Johnny and Luke had ran over and dragged Ronnie away before punching him in the face, knocking him to the floor. The shard of glass wasn’t anything massive, but once it was out of my hand, more blood pooled in the palm of my hand.

From behind me, I felt a pair of arms snake underneath my armpits and begin to pull me up to my feet. Once I was standing again, I turned to see who had lifted me up. I was greeted by a chest clad in a black t-shirt with the Batman logo on. The shirt hung slightly loosely on the skinny frame of the person, who I assumed was a man, who now stood in front of me. I had to crane my neck to see his face, which was obscured by long black locks of hair. I could make out an array of tattoos on his arms that I hadn’t noticed before.

Holy shit. This was the guy that I had literally ran into before my set earlier.

“You okay? That looks deep.” He said, concern plastered all over his face as he took my hand in his much bigger one.

“Y-y-yeah.” I stuttered out, still in shock from what had just happened.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He led me gently away from where Johnny and Luke were being held back by Asking Alexandria and Ronnie was being dragged away by Jacky Vincent and Ryan Seaman.

The man led me to a tour bus where we met another man, who also had long black hair.

“Hey man, what the fuck?” The new man said with an incredulous look on his face as we got closer to the bus.

“Ronnie is back on his dumbass shit.” The first man, who was still holding my elbow, said in reply.

“Of course he is.” The second man scoffed while going into the tour bus, holding open the door for myself and the first man.

Their tour bus looked pretty much the same as ours did, except there was lots of makeup all over the place and various items that looked like they were made of leather. It was messier than ours too which I liked. It made me feel better about how I left things when I was getting ready.

“This is Jake.” The first man gestured to the second man. “I’m not too sure where the others are though? Probably still at the barbeque. It’s Becca right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s me.” I said quietly with a weak laugh.

He stared at me for a beat as I looked at him expectantly. It felt like he was looking right into my soul with those blue eyes of his.

“Who are you?” I asked timidly.

“Me?” He pointed at his chest.

I nodded my head. I could tell he wasn’t very good at talking.

“I’m Andy.” He said with a beautiful smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

#andy biersack #fanfic #black veil brides #andy black #andy sixx #we don’t belong #BVB #Andy biersack fanfic #black veil brides fic

16 notes · View notes

bbyquokka · 2 years ago

Text

— i need it

→ PAIRING: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

→ GENRE: idol!au | smut — MDNI!

→ SYNOPSIS: hyunjin struggles to contain himself during a meal, causing him to lose control.

→ WORDS: 2.4k

→ requested by anon | requests are currently: closed!

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

→ m.list — → you can also read it on my ao3

"Shhh darling. You're too loud." You coo, looking up at a flustered Hyunjin through your lashes.

"S-Sorry. Just.. too good." He hums, eyes fluttering close. His dress shirt bundled up at his stomach, his hands barely keeping it in place, back against the hard stone wall of an abandoned alleyway. His cock pulled through his boxer shorts and the zipper of his dress pants.

"Do you want people to hear how much of a slut you are? Mhm?" You cock an eyebrow, lazily stroking his saliva soaked length. He whimpers, shaking his head slowly. "Didn't think so."

You were due to meet the member 15 minutes ago for dinner, however, Hyunjin thought it'd be a good idea to beg and whine on the way there about how good he feels, about how he desperately needs you; to feel you.

"What is it huh? You weren't like this back home. Is it because we're in public? Do you get off knowing that someone could walk by at any minute?" You tsk, rolling your eyes. Hyunjin shakes his head side to side fast, tears prickling in the lower lash line.

"I just– feel too good, y/n'' You hum, wrapping your lips around his hard, angry cock. You instantly deep throat him, throat closing around his length as you swallow. A strangled moan falls past Hyunjin's lips, his legs shaking as they struggle to support his weight.

Your feet firmly planted on the floor, legs spread wide apart, with your dress raised to the knees, giving Hyunjin a full view of your clothed core. He whimpers, watching your fingers rub your clit through the material of your lace panties.

"I wanna…touch – fuck!" You hum around his cock, ignoring his desperate plea. You flatten your tongue, stroking the underside of his cock as the sides brush up against your cheeks. Hyunjin groans, too lost in the pleasure to care if anyone can hear him.

So lost in the moment, he forgets. Forgets what he is and isn't supposed to do. His hips buck suddenly, his cock reaching deep inside your throat causing your eyes to widen and to gag. Hyunjin's eyes widen, your gagging bringing him back down to reality.

A wave of submission, fear and worry wash over him in waves as you pull his cock out of your mouth with a wet 'pop' before slowly standing up straight. You glare at him, aura overpowering and making you feel taller, bigger than you are, whilst doing the opposite to Hyunjin.

He felt so small, small as a mouse. Desperate, pathetic whimpers and pleas escape his lips. Your hand squeezes the base of his shaft as you lean in slowly.

"Did you just–?"

"I– sorry, I didn't mean it!" Hyunjin stutters. You lick your lips slowly, watching Hyunjin tremble in front of your very eyes.

"Slut." You speak in monotone, Hyunjin swallowing thickly. Hyunjin lets out a shaky breath, your hand releasing from his shaft, disappearing into your purse.

You pull out your phone, bringing up an app before your thumb swipes on the screen. Hyunjin's eyes widen, his legs bucking beneath him. You smirk, enjoyment evident on your face as you watch your submissive boyfriend shake and struggle. The strong vibrations ripple through his body, his cock throbbing and dripping with pre-cum.

"AH– stop, i can't… so much, too much– so good!"

"So pathetic." You tower over Hyunjin, his legs shaking. His back slowly slides down the concrete wall, desperate whimpers and sobs shake his body. "Look at you. So consumed with pleasure you can't even stand straight."

You scoff, tongue in cheek. All Hyunjin can do is nod and whimper, his mouth loosely hanging open, pants leaving his lips at a fast, erratic pace.

"Stand up and get dressed. We're late enough as it is." You giggle, turning down the strength of the vibrator so Hyunjin can at least stand straight. He fumbles with his clothing, hands shaking from pure adrenaline. You lean in, kissing his lips sweetly, your actions contradict your previous actions.

"Oh, and try not to make it obvious that you have a toy inside you. Don't want your friends to think you're a slut too. But maybe you'd like that."

You both enter the restaurant, apologizing and making up some excuse as to why you arrive late. Hyunjin was doing his best to control himself, hide his raging hard on. His underwear soaked with his pre-cum, he could feel the material sticking to his length, the low vibrations buzzing throughout his body. He felt disgusting, humiliated; but he didn't hate it. He loves it.

You take your seats, Hyunjin sitting next to Felix. Felix kept an eye on Hyunjin, he knew something was wrong. When you're friends with someone for so many years, you learn about certain behaviors and moods. The way Hyunjin is presenting himself, shifting in his seat every so often, pausing between sentences to stop an explosion of moans escaping; he knew something was going on.

You knew Felix had an idea and that spurs you on even more. Your hand sneaks under the table as you're chatting casually to Seungmin, gliding it up Hyunjin's leg. His breath hitches in his throat as your fingers come into contact with his crotch.

You palm his length, slowly at first applying little to no pressure. You keep your idle chit chat, Hyunjin grabbing his glass of water and downing some.

"Are you okay, Hyunjin?" Felix leans in close, whispering. You squeeze Hyunjin’s crotch suddenly, a whimper escaping his lips as soon as he opens his mouth to reply to Felix. Felix blushes, as does Hyunjin. A deep shade of red.

He looks down at his lap, embarrassed and ashamed. You palm Hyunjin, adding more and more pressure the longer you carry on before pulling away; much to Hyunjin's relief. You casually pull out your phone, instantly opening the app.

Hyunjin's head dips low, his legs shaking as his hands bawl into fists on his lap. He squeezes his eyes shut, his pants replacing his moans. You smirk, amused by his reaction as you lick your lips slowly. You feel the material of your lace underwear sticking to your folds due to your slick, the look of pure desperation on Hyunjin shaking your core.

You lean in, lips ghosting along the shell of his ear as you whisper seductively. "Poor Hyunjin. You look so desperate, it's quite cute." Your tone of voice mocking, Hyunjin shivering at your words. Felix is watching, swallowing thickly as he shuffles in his seat.

He knows.

You smirk, licking your lips, keeping eye contact with Felix. You tilt Hyunjin's chin up so he is forced to look at you. You hum, content with his lewd look. His eyes glossy, tears threatening to spill, cheeks a nice rosy red, bottom lip swollen from biting it too much.

"You're so adorable. Your eyes are begging. it turns me on." You coo, stroking his plump, swollen lip with your thumb.

"It hurts." He whispers, his legs continuing to shake.

"What does?" You coo some more, pouting as you cock your head to the side.

"My cock. I-It hurts so much. I want to cum.."

"You can't." You state, almost demanding. "I told you this back home. No cumming until I say so. Understand?"

"But–" You raise your brows, your hand now gripping his face. Hyunjin whimpers, swallowing thickly.

"Not until I say so, Hyunjin. And don't even think about sneaking off to the bathroom because there will be punishment and you don't want that now, do you?"

"N-No ma'am."

"Good boy." You smile sweetly, releasing your grip on his face. You pull your phone out, showing Hyunjin the app you've been using to control his vibrator, purposely showing Felix at the same time. Felix notices, his eyes widening and looking away as his cheeks flush pink. You smirk at his reaction, making a mental note that you would like to play with Felix, that he too, also radiates sub energy.

"D-Dont raise it anymore. Please, I beg!" Hyunjin whispers, almost on the verge of it becoming a shout. You pout, finger hovering over the screen.

"No?"

"P-Please!" Hyunjin sobs. His sobs make you shiver and hum in satisfaction.

"Mhm, I do love it when you beg, almost makes me want to ride you right here, right now." You coo, rubbing your thighs together to create friction. Hyunjin shivers, his hands gripping onto his dress pants as he struggles. He lets out a pathetic whimper, loud enough for you and Felix to hear. Felix swallows thickly, trying his best to ignore the sexual tension and the situation that is currently happening beside him.

You smirk, noticing Felix struggling to compose himself. You raise a brow, licking your lips. A burning desire to play with both men tingles at the tips of your fingers.

"Oh shut up, Hyunjin. Any louder and your friends might hear you." You coo. "Oh wait, someone already did."

Hyunjin looks at you with wide eyes. You cock your head in Felix's direction. Hyunjin slowly turns his head, his eyes meeting Felix's. Felix blushes deeply as does Hyunjin. You lean over Hyunjin's lap to speak to Felix.

"I would love to play with you two." You whisper. Both men look at each other and whimper, thoughts and scenarios rushing through their minds. You giggle before resuming your position and talking to the members.

You go back to idle chit-chat, 'ignoring' Hyunjin. You laugh, joke about with the others, joining in on the teasing and the serious conversations. You had to elbow Hyunjin and give him the stern look, secretly telling him to act normal; which is impossible when lust is coursing through his veins at lightning speed.

Deciding that Hyunjin has gone long enough with the vibrator being on low, you decided to be cruel. Sure, Hyunjin isn't going to like you for it, but he knows it's all fun and games at the end of the day. He knows you will be pampering him in kisses and praises, telling him how much of a good boy he is for you. He thrives off the praises, makes him feel good because he knows you're enjoying this just as much as he is; that's why he obeys you so much.

You grab your phone, side eyeing Hyunjin. He's too busy talking to Chan to notice what you're about to do. He picks up his glass, taking a sip of his beverage. You smirk, increasing the vibrations to max. He splutters, coughing on the liquid.

"Are you okay?!" Chan asks, concerned as he passes Hyunjin a napkin to wipe himself clean. Hyunjin nods, not trusting his own voice. He knows if he speaks, it will come out as a pathetic squeak or worse; a moan. Felix looks over at you, then Hyunjin, then you again. You raise a brow, smirking as you wave your phone in the air. Felix understood instantly, the tips of his ears going red as he clears his throat.

He cannot deny that what you and Hyunjin are doing is turning him on. It's also making him curious. He has never seen his friend act like this before. He thought it was the other way around, but seeing you act so cocky and confident, causes his mind to race with thoughts. One thing he knows for sure, is that it's going to be a long night of pleasuring himself when he gets home.

"I–I can't! Turn it down." Hyunjin begs, his eyes filling with tears as he shakily breathes in.

"Mhm?" You look at him, pretending you didn't hear him. "Oh! You want me to turn it down?" Hyunjin nods fast, his cock straining against his clothing making it painful for him. His underwear soaked in pre-cum, sticking to his skin. He's uncomfortable. His cock hard, burning, desperate for release.

"No." You say with a grin before going back to your conversation with Jeongin.

He's so close. So close to embarrassingly making a mess in his own underwear. He's never done it before, he never plans on doing it. It's not unusual for you to tell him to hold his orgasms, but that's when he is naked. He's never had to worry about staining any of his clothing because he's never had to.

A wave of shame washes over him, desperation and eagerness. He's so close. His body threatened to betray him. The longer the vibrations carry on, the closer he becomes. His thighs burning, head dipped low so the members don't see the stream of tears falling down his face. He's in pain. He wants it, he needs it. But he doesn't want to go against your word. He's loyal to you; like a dog.

But it hurts. It's so painful. He cannot bear it any longer. His dress shirt sticking to his body due to his sweat, sweat patches forming under his armpits. His hair sticks to his forehead as he bites down harshly on his lip, drawing blood. He digs his own nails into his legs, clawing at them desperately.

He grips onto your arm desperately. You look to the side, your core throbbing at the sight of him. It takes everything in your power not to fuck him there and then. You reach out, placing a hand on his sweaty cheek and stroking it gently as you coo.

"What's wrong, baby?" He leans into your touch, broken sobs shake his body. He forgets where he is, forgets he is with friends as he whispers;

"I'm going to cum."

You smirk, reaching down and giving his hard cock a squeeze over his dress pants. That was the final push he needed. He grips onto your wrist, head hung low as his body shakes and convulses. Warm, sticky liquid coats his underwear, a feel of embarrassment and disgust washes over Hyunjin.

You watch your sub shake, struggling to come to terms of what he's just done. You cannot deny the fact that it was attractive. His nails dig into your skin, making you hiss. Hyunjin looks up at you with doe eyes, smiling lazily. Fucked out. That's the only way you could describe his current expression.

"Excuse me." Felix stands up and rushes off to the bathroom, making you giggle to yourself. Clearly he heard and needed some 'alone time.'

"Shh baby. You're alright, I'm here." You coo. Hyunjin whimpers, hoping you feel sorry for his embarrassing action; but you don't. It just encourages you even more. You lean in, ghosting your lips over the shell of his ear.

"I think you need a lesson in how to behave considering you can't do that, don't you think?"

→ note: wooo. idk what this is but uh, yeah. lmao! its a requests and like 'reunited', it became to long in word count for it to be a drabble and such. just a reminder (even though i have it stated at the beginning and on my pinned post) requests are closed. i need a few days to catch up, start my own stuff and just feel like myself again. i hope yall enjoy!

968 notes · View notes

inkyleaf · 5 months ago

Text

TG 212: Supernatural Shopping (M2F, RC, MC)

Against my better judgment, I went to the mall on an unassuming Friday. After losing my job a few weeks ago, I became paranoid about spending any money that wasn’t strictly necessary, and I’ve always had a difficult time in treating myself even before. But I really wanted the new Persona game. I walked around the mall for a long time, mulling over on whether I should buy it or not, and whether I even deserved it.

As I finished a small meal at the food court, I caught a glimpse of one of the most beautiful Asian women I’d ever seen on the other side of the mall walking out of a clothing store. Her long flowing skirt teased her slim legs that looked incredibly long thanks to her high heels, and her tight midriff was complemented by her glistening bare shoulders that popped in and out from behind her black hair. I was so focused on her that I managed to see her drop something that she was putting into her purse as she answered a phone call.

Wanting an excuse to see this woman up close, I briskly power-walked my way to the area, leaving my trash on the table. She also walked quickly and confidently in her heels; by the time I had gotten closer, she was already far away from the clothing store’s entrance. “E-Excuse me!” I yelled awkwardly. “You dropped something…!” I wasn’t sure if she couldn’t hear me or if she didn’t realize I was talking to her, but her shapely silhouette had already turned a corner. I picked up what she had dropped, a sleek and fancy black credit card with the name Yingyue Mu.

As I was walking in the direction the woman had gone to return her credit card, another thought occurred to me. What if I just…used the card? I was doing a lot of mental gymnastics to convince myself that it wouldn’t be straight up thievery. It’s wrong, but she looks pretty well-off. And it might not even work in the first place… And it’s not like I intentionally stole it or anything, it just happened to be here… I walked around the mall for a bit, lost in my thoughts. I was partially looking for the woman again so that I could return the card and be done with weighing my own morality, but I did not find her.

“Fuck it,” I said under my breath with a small smirk after thinking some more. “I’ll just try it on one little thing and be done with it.” I waltzed my way into GameStop and nervously handed the cashier the card for my copy of Persona 3 Reload. All it would take for me to fold would be the cashier pointing out the blatant Chinese name on the card, as I already felt guilty enough and didn’t want to have to lie. But all I was met with was a “Thank you, have a great day” as he handed me my game. I left the mall with butterflies in my stomach, giddy about my new game and anxious about keeping a credit card that wasn’t mine.

Once I settled back into my apartment, I played Persona for most of the evening and felt absolutely amazing. Like, way more electric than even a new game should’ve made me feel. But after waking up the next morning, I came down from my high and settled into a nice cozy Saturday with doing chores and playing more games. Later that evening, I realized I was out of food and went to the grocery store for something easy and frozen, forgetting that I still had the black credit card until it was time to pay at the self-checkout. …It’s probably canceled by now for sure, I thought, convincing myself that there would be no harm in trying. My eyes widened as I saw my receipt being printed. Not only did it work, I almost felt bad about not getting more.

I went back and forth in my head again as I pushed my cart to the car. I could always go back in and just get more…but I shouldn’t even be using this in the first place… Shaking my head, I made myself drive home before I could be tempted further, ending the night with some YouTube and gaming as I usually did. As I slept that night, a lot of my body hair thinned with some of it disappearing altogether.

My Sunday was mostly uneventful. I spent a lot of time looking for jobs online, as it still made me anxious that I wouldn’t be going into work on Monday morning like I had been weeks ago. Despite my best efforts in being productive and distracting myself, I found the credit card lingering in the back of my mind. How long can I get away with using it? Should I try again today? Thankfully, my lazy desire to stay inside today won out, and I figured that there’d be no shot of it working again after this many days had passed.

Without much to do on Monday, I found myself at the mall again, determined to put this morale issue to rest. I picked up a cheap, vaguely interesting game off the shelf at GameStop and handed over the card, expecting it surely be denied this time. I felt a pit in my stomach when it worked yet again. What the hell is going on…? After another mental back-and-forth, I told myself that it’s her for fault for not canceling this thing for so long, why should I feel bad? This kind of thing isn’t going to happen again, let’s stop being so weird about it and just go in! I picked out a basket and starting putting anything that mildly caught my interest. Games I’d play later, some merch, some gift cards, some accessories I’d probably never use…

The cashier was visibly confused seeing me walk up with all of these items after initially paying for one cheap game. “That’ll be, uh… $1,289.45,” he said meekly. “Fine by me,” I replied with an awkward smile. I felt an electric jolt shoot up my arm as he handed the card back to me. I became dizzy, and the world spun around for a brief moment. Something inside of my body felt off, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thanks…” I said with a blank stare as I regained my balance and focus. I cleared my throat and sat on a bench to sift through what I had just bought.

“Oh my God, I actually bought over a thousand dollars’ worth of stuff…!” I mumbled under my breath. I caught my hands shaking as I rummaged through the bags, unsure if it was from excitement, anxiousness, or something else. Although it was happening too slowly to notice in the moment, my arms and hands were shrinking and were developing a subtle roundness in certain areas. After relaxing for a few minutes, that euphoric feeling from the first day began to well up inside me, and it was much greater than before. I felt like I could do anything! Leaving all of my items on the bench for a moment, I spotted a cute girl and asked her on a date. I was swiftly rejected, but I didn’t care! I felt so good!

Although I wasn’t actively noticing, I think I had been lightly shaking all the way back to the car and back home. After unloading my bounty, I tried to chill with some games but was too hyper to focus. I spontaneously said fuck it and went for a short jog around the block hoping to use up some of this energy. It helped mentally cool me down, but I still felt like I never had before. I played Persona for the rest of the day but hardly cared about what was happening in the game.

Waking up and washing my face the next day, I was almost relieved to feel like myself again. Even though yesterday had been amazing, it was just so weird. I thought today would have been normal until I noticed my hands in the restroom. They had become much smaller, and my fingers much slimmer. My arms had also shrunk, and while I never had a much bicep strength to boast, my upper arms felt fluffier and were noticeably missing masculine tone. “What the…” I pondered about it for a while until a phone call snapped me out my own head. Some acquaintances I had made from my last job wanted to invite me to lunch to see how I was doing after being let go. I gladly accepted; it made me a little emotional.

I wore a long-sleeved shirt for our meetup so that only my small hands were visible. They’re different, but not different enough for someone else to notice, right? The group of three guys and a girl took me to our favorite burger joint, a place we used to indulge in once a week together. I entered the building excited to talk to these guys again, but once our food was delivered, an odd sensation came over me. They were grabbing their burgers with both hands and just chowing down…which wasn’t weird, I always did that, too. What was weird is that I felt a sense of repulsion watching them eat, like I didn’t belong here. Or rather, that they were somehow…disgusting.

I awkwardly grabbed my burger with one hand and shoved a big bite into my face to stop myself from overthinking. Not only did it taste bad, I felt my skin crawl from how nauseous the action made me feel. My hand and face were covered in grease and sauce. What the hell is this?? Feeling a few of their eyes dart my way, I continued to nibble at the burger as best I could without being weird about it. By the time everyone had finished, I barely halfway done. “Not hungry today?” one of the guys chuckled. I laughed awkwardly and thought of something on the spot: “Yeah guess not, I should’ve had my dentist appointment after this cuz it messed up my taste.” We chatted and laughed for a while longer. I really wanted to use my credit card again to pay for the meal, but knowing that the waitress would take it out my sight made me uneasy, so I only chipped in with some loose cash and took the half burger home with me to finish later.

At least, that’s what everyone assumed I’d do. I threw that abomination into the trash as soon as I got home and vigorously washed my hands and face. I never wanted to see another burger again in my life. Later that evening, looking at the frozen meals in my fridge brought similar feelings. Using the black card, I ordered a simple but hefty sushi and noodle meal. When I felt an odd fit of my pants the next morning, I assumed I had eaten too much in the day prior. What I didn’t realize was that my lower body proportions had begun to change as I slept and continued to change throughout the rest of the Wednesday. It was another indoors day for me, and I used the credit card to order more ample delivery meals. Besides my arms, I didn’t notice anything being explicitly wrong with my body until I undressed and took a shower that evening.

The fabric of my clothing coming off felt odd, and the warm water hitting my skin made me flinch and realize that I had become almost completely hairless from the neck down. Contrary to how it felt hours ago, my stomach was much flatter, and my pelvis had grown wider. M-My body, what’s going on with me…?! I held my hands against my hips in confusion. I didn’t look like a girl, but I probably could’ve been mistaken for one from far away. Washing myself was difficult and uncomfortable, as I was so much smoother and felt the soap and my fingers against my skin in ways I never had before. My mind was racing – should I call my doctor? Should I…can I do anything about this? I thought about the past few days in critical detail.

The weirdness began after I spent that thousand-plus at GameStop…I felt that jolt, I thought, incorrectly identifying the beginning of all this. Then, I thought about the two things that I was interacting with at the time – the GameStop employee and the black credit card. At first, I wanted to assume that the employee had done something to me, but it felt ludicrous. I didn’t think the card itself could hold any power, so I wondered if I was being punished by some almighty being for my greed in that moment. I wasn’t religious, but I prayed that night hoping for forgiveness.

The next morning, all I was met with were my thighs being rounded out with supple feminine fat, making it irritating to walk without rubbing my balls the wrong way. Staring at my reflection and at my arms and hands in the mirror, part of me wanted to cry. I was scared that things were snowballing out of my control and I didn’t know what to do about it, or what was really even happening. I wanted that dopamine rush I got whenever I used the credit card, but I was afraid that using it might be related to the cause.

Taking drastic measures, I locked the card away into a small safe that was buried deep in my closet, then went outside for a breath of fresh air wearing clothes I’d kept from middle school, as my usual clothing had an uncomfortable fit by now. I couldn’t stop myself from wearing shorter clothing, as my skin felt like it needed the air, too. It felt calming, but I noticed a few lingering glances from passing strangers. It’s becoming noticeable… I dreaded, trying my best to remain calm. If I stop using the card, it’ll go away. I’ll be fine.

The buzzing thoughts in my head were initially based on my anxieties, but as I grew more comfortable and relaxed, my thoughts became more mean-spirited before I even noticed. Such a slob, wearing a run-down rag with a stain on it. Ew, she chewed off her fingernails like an animal. I can’t believe they even make dresses in her size… I was judging peoples’ appearances without even thinking about it. The feeling of disgust was similar to what I felt at the burger joint, why were these white people just so filthy to me?

I’m a slob, too. I’m white, I would joke to myself in my head, trying to combat my weird thoughts. I tried to keep things down low from here. I didn’t use the black credit card once for the rest of the day and for the following Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Subsequently, I didn’t notice many changes to my body beyond what had already happened. But fuck it was hard…I was soooo bored! I could barely get myself to continue job-hunting, and my video games were no longer engaging me like they had mere days ago. Even the stuff I got from spending over a grand at GameStop failed to evoke happiness. I didn’t know what withdrawal felt like, but I was going through it. I needed to buy something big and expensive, it didn’t matter what…I needed to use the card again.

Come next Monday, I was itching for dopamine to the point where I was trying to convince myself that I was in a financial emergency despite still having a decent amount of savings. Don’t have a new job yet, money’s getting lower, and I need groceries today, soooo… But no, I can’t use the card anymore. Besides, it’s surely canceled by NOW, right? Then, I saw a text from an online friend, linking me to a new and expensive high-quality Persona statue that just went up for pre-order. The website did a great job at highlighting its qualities and features – even though something in my head was preventing me from enjoying the game lately, this was something I’d have loved to have on display in my room. Fuck, but I can’t…!

To stop myself from ruminating too much, I ran outside to jog around the block again, but it didn’t help. I wanted that statue, I wanted to use the card, I still had to get groceries anyway…and maybe I could even pick up some new clothing while I’m at it, as even my smaller clothing was beginning to get uncomfortable. Somehow, I managed to resist the urge all day. My body was tense, as if I had to keep it in check at every moment.

Throughout the next three days, I found myself feeling a bit more relaxed. I was able to focus on my job search and actually enjoyed some gaming again. My temptations to use the card were lessening, and everything felt like it was going back to normal, except for my misshapen body. That all came crashing down on Friday when I accidentally tripped over my own feet and spilled a full cup of soda directly onto my PC. “NO…!!!” I screamed as the monitor went blank, hearing a few electric pops from within. I had just received this PC as a birthday gift less than six months ago and it was a godsend compared to my older hunk of junk, I needed this thing, and I knew that getting another one would be a huge hit to my savings.

I spent hours trying to dry it from the inside and was researching ways to troubleshoot on my phone, but it was fruitless. I was periodically yelling to let out my anger, but all I really felt was despair at the loss of the single most important item in my apartment. Can I really not afford it? I thought to myself. I have so much junk I could sell, especially from GameStop, but that would take so long…might not even be worth it…

After thinking for a long while, I took a deep breath and opened my safe with a clear head. This is an emergency, this is a real emergency, I thought. After today, no more black card. Last time. Feeling an odd blend of eagerness and defeat, I pulled the card out and went to Amazon from my phone. The PC was nearly $3,000, and I added a few more hundred onto that with one-day shipping. When the order went through, I was still astonished at how the card was working, but then I remembered that they would only charge me when the unit was shipped.

Still, I felt a sense of relief, as if I had some kind of confidence that the card would continue to work. “I did say today was the last day…day’s still not over yet,” I mumbled, beginning to change clothes for an outing. Having put off my groceries and other chores all week, I figured that I could wrap them up all at once while treating myself a little. With the panic and heartache I’d endured the last few hours, I figured I deserved it. Briefly glancing at myself in the mirror, it looked like my hair had grown a little longer, but I didn’t give it much thought.

Strolling through the mall as my first stop, I didn’t know what clothing to pick out. I didn’t want any of the women’s clothing even though deep down I figured they would probably fit my body the best, so I simply held up a few unisex pieces to my body and eyeballed them, figuring they’d work. Then, I got a late sushi lunch at the food court. The quality wasn’t amazing, but it felt like such a breath of fresh air after all of the cereal, fast food, and frozen meals I’d been forcing down my throat all week. That indescribably exciting feeling I got whenever I used the card was welling inside of me again after buying the meal and my clothing. The card is definitely doing something to me, I thought as I realized it, but is this really a punishment? For being greedy? Is buying necessities greedy? It just feels…so good…

Wanting to try a little experiment, I convinced myself to buy a $100 necklace to see how it would feel. As soon as the transaction had completed, I was practically tingling. I felt so good that I had almost forgotten all about destroying my PC earlier today. Today’s the last day, let’s enjoy it…right…?! As I moved from store to store, buying expensive thing after expensive thing, my jaw began to round, and my skin felt like it was boiling into a hot sizzle as my pale skin tone took on a yellower hue. I noticed that my hair began to brush against my shoulders and that my voice rose higher as my Adam’s apple fell back and higher into my neck, but I simply felt too good to care by that point!

I had a brief moment of contemplation when I went out to my car, needing to load my bags because I couldn’t carry anymore. I tugged at my hair with dainty hands and looked at my reflection through the car window. Through my now-slanted eyes with deep brown irises, softened chin, and heightened cheekbones, I could just barely recognize myself. This is bad, was a brief thought that went through my head. But I didn’t feel bad at all, I was ready to go back in for round two…! While I was walking back into the mall, I even pre-ordered that Persona statue from my phone. I can always talk to a doctor later. I can buy out the whole damn mall today!

My shopping spree couldn’t be stopped. Trinkets, toiletries, tools, clothing, it didn’t matter! It was all mine for the taking! I noticed that cashiers had begun calling me ‘ma’am.’ “Ma’am,” I said out loud to myself, scrunching my face. Such a disgusting abbreviation. Fitting for people behind registers, I suppose. By the time I found myself back at the clothing sections, my smooth skin had lost all traces of its Caucasian heritage, and my face had further morphed beyond all recognizability, as I was now sporting thinner eyebrows, fuller lips, a flattened nose, and even whiter, brighter teeth.

Instead of just buying new clothing like I had from the first batch, I went into the changing room with a bag this time. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror in awe. I was beautiful, but still horribly incomplete and covered with ill-fitting clothes. Unbeknownst to me, it was at that moment where my new PC had shipped, deducting over $3,000 from the card’s balance. I didn’t know why it was happening, but my dick turned rock hard mere moments later. I dropped my pants and boxers to my ankles, hypnotized by the feeling on top of my incredible credit card high. My scrotum was painfully constricting around my balls, and the skin around my pecs began to wobble as I mindlessly stroked myself.

I knew I could orgasm quickly, but I wanted it to last. Bouncing my slim Asian legs in place while licking my lips, admiring the face of the woman who stared back in the mirror, nothing in the world could have brought me back down to Earth. “Ooh…ooh…ooaah…” I moaned quietly through gritted teeth, embracing the pain that came with my testes being pushed upward into my body. I fondled my chest with my other hand as it swelled into two distinct mounds, feeling stiff and enlarging nipples through my shirt. I leaned towards the mirror. I need her, I need her, I need her so fucking bad…

Just when I was on the brink of climax, I heard a sudden schrriiiiiip from the floor. The tops of my sneakers had been ripped down the center up to my toes and melted down to the sides, revealing the tops of my feet. “A-Ah!” I yelped, practically losing my balance while barely maintaining my sexual high as thin plastic rods began to grow underneath the material around my heels, pushing them into the air. I had to release my cock to catch myself against the wall with both hands as a thin strap materialized around my ankles, too focused on myself and my reflection to even notice that my shoes had transformed into a pair of black high heels.

“FFFFF…fuck…!” I bit my lip as I continued to stroke on wobbly legs. In that mere moment, my cock had grown much smaller, became much harder, and felt infinitely more sensitive…! Another startling riiiiiipp sounded from my back as my shirt tore itself down the middle, ending at the small of my back while revealing my shoulder blades and upper back. My sleeves rolled themselves up into little straps while the front of my shirt cut low as it completely changed material while revealing and supporting my developing breasts.

“Ohmigawd, ohmigawd,” I whispered as quietly as I could with my eyes rolling into the back of my head. My silent stroking was quick to become more audible schlicking, and my dick had practically disappeared into a nub. Warmth slowly enveloped my whole body, as if I had been gently lowered into a sauna. Nearly gasping for air through harsh breaths, I slowly and awkwardly lowered myself to my knees as I finished, unable to notice the bottom of my shirt elongating itself into a stylish dark satin dress that would flow and playfully tease my sexy legs.

I kept my eyes closed for a long while as I took it all in, eventually placing my hands to the wall and mirror while still on my knees. I lightly coughed and cleared my throat as my eyelids fluttered open, still in awe from my reflection. I tapped and curled my fingers for a bit against the wall, thinking about how thin and petite they were while analyzing how they moved. After a bit of thinking, I began giggling to myself with a foreign voice, loving the sight of my lips curling and my eyes squinting in laugher. I had a hard time containing myself, probably because the situation seemed impossible. I knew that none of this made any sense, so why did this all feel so right?

I stood up slowly, legs still shaking in my heels, and patted myself down through my dress. Smooth, strong, sexy, alluring, were some words that popped into my head, especially once I stepped out of my fallen pants and boxers and looked at my body at different angles. When I shimmied my boxers up my smooth legs, the waistband suddenly popped out of the fabric as the fabric itself began to disintegrate and change, leaving behind a cute pair of silk panties that hugged my body. “I’m a…I’m a woman…a goddess,” I huffed, watching the material change before my eyes. I smiled at my reflection again, thinking about how obvious all of the earlier signs were in hindsight several days ago. If being a woman meant feeling this good, I was fully prepared to lean into it.

After cooling off and making sure I looked good, I took another look at the clothing in my bags and scoffed. These clothes were beneath me now. I left the whole bag in the room and continued my shopping spree, focusing on more feminine clothing and jewelry while learning how to strut in my heels. I don’t know anything about any of this…but what’s stopping me from learning? It’s all mine…! Anything I want, it’s mine…! Wanting to make myself even more beautiful, I put several bags of makeup, skincare, and haircare products into my bags, figuring that I’d get enough volume to trial and error with it without worrying about running out. Every time I was handed my credit card back from a cashier, I sanitized it in front of their grubby faces, hoping that they were bright enough to appreciate the luxury of being in my presence.

Once I had finally worn myself out of shopping, I treated myself to a five-star restaurant for a caviar and lobster dinner and figured that I’d leave grocery shopping to delivery services. It was my first time trying both, but I had the feeling I would love them. Having been relieved of most of my usual anxiety and self-doubt, I slept like an angel that night, knowing full well I deserved all of the wonderful things I’d done for myself.

Feeling my breasts and soft thighs the next morning, I was relieved that I hadn’t been living a dream. The overwhelming euphoria I got from using the card had died down, but I still felt like the queen of the world. “I really am…all woman. Every last inch,” I cooed to myself as I showered in the morning, wanting to abolish my usual habit of evening showering. After practicing a few positive affirmations in the mirror, I found myself feeling more than just willing to accept femininity. I was so excited! I practically spent all day learning how to use makeup and other products, and dressing up in the endless amount of clothing I had bought yesterday. I simply could not get enough of myself! I had become perfect!

Such brilliance and radiance obviously couldn’t go unnoticed. Everywhere I went, people treated me with respect and admiration. The quieter ones, I could just feel their eyes on me from far away. They either wanted to be me or lusted for a second of my attention. The men especially knew their place, always holding doors open for me and offering to buy me meals. And the ones who tried to get a little too close were met with swift embarrassment. After all, no one batted an eye if a gorgeous woman like me were to slap someone a little too hard. The amount of confidence and power I had was dizzying.

Of course, despite all of that, I still had a lot on my plate to figure out. I could buy anything I wanted, but my credit card wouldn’t be useable to pay the rent. My ID and undergrad degree had also become utterly useless, as I had essentially become a new – and better – human being. Looking at the name on my card, I figured that I could get a new ID and other documents forged in the name of Yingyue Mu. With my infinite wealth being limited to what I could use a credit card on, contractors and other shady workers became my best friends. As I worked on getting new documents, I hired professional photographers, editors, writers, and social media marketers to promote a fake story of how a dusty little girl from China made it all the way to being a superstar model in America, learning so many ins and outs of being a woman along the way.

Even though I was better than everyone else, I still had a lot to learn about business, social interactions, and presentation – three concepts I began to religiously study and practice day in and day out. At first, my fake social media story drew in and inspired some people, but it couldn’t stop there; I wanted more clicks, likes, and money. It wasn’t too hard to become a self-proclaimed amateur model with my natural beauty and talent and with all of the clothing, makeup, and accessories I had access to, but that wasn’t nearly enough. I had to reach out and gift my lovely self to sponsors.

After one short month had passed, I had already forgotten what it was like being a man. I knew I had always been one, but the thought of being one ever again was just unfathomable. Like, how could anyone be ready to leave the house within ten minutes of waking up? How could anyone wear any piece of clothing two days in a row? How could anyone literally say exactly what’s on their mind at any given point? The concept of masculinity just didn’t make sense to me anymore. I was okay with that, though. The mystery was kind of attractive in a fictional sense, since no man I interacted with on a day-to-day basis was anywhere close to deserving of me.

I continued to learn, grow, and make connections throughout the year while traveling the world, using my shining body and vibrant personality to model for countless amounts of brands and sponsors. That black credit card never stopped working, as it paid for all of my traveling, lodging, luxury meals…almost everything! Which meant that my savings were able to skyrocket, especially as I began making more and more money. Paying the rent for my apartment soon felt like providing charity to the poor.

By the end of my first year living as a woman, I had practically become a social media celebrity and had visited over ten different countries. I felt like I was committing a sin every time I returned home in America, as if I were living in a pigsty. Once I saved enough money, I could move overseas, buy a mansion in Europe, maybe? Although it may be preferrable to be around those who shared my pristine Chinese heritage… I daydreamed about my future a lot, even when I was at one of my modeling agency’s evening social gatherings where I was debuting a sleek zebra-print dress. After becoming exhausted from socializing and pretending to like these people, I took a high seat on an empty staircase and looked down at the little party, thinking about how blissful it must be to be an insect, ignorant to the fact that they could never even begin to fathom being as perfect as moi.

A Patron reward for Silv, thank you so much!! <3 This story features a man down on his luck finding a mysterious credit card that seems to change and invigorate him the more he uses it...

Also, stay tuned for a HOT summer beginning tomorrow... Be sure to tune back in cuz you won't want to miss July. ;)

(also I give up on trying to indent paragraphs on tumblr it's so annoying LOL)

RC = Race Change

MC = Mental Change

Patreon | DeviantArt | Blogger

#m2f #asian #racechange #mentalchange #slowchange #magic #transformation #m2f transformation #m2f body change #sexchange

40 notes · View notes

navstuffs · 1 year ago

Text

The Deal

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Summary: “I will do anything to save Arthur Morgan’s life. Even your soul? Even my soul. Anything.” / A Weird West story where you would do anything to save Arthur Morgan’s life, no matter the consequences.

Warning Tags: Weird West trope (wild west + horror/fantasy/science fiction), +14, angst

Author's Notes: hi and welcome to my first fic for my halloween event! i have had this prepared since august and am so excited to be sharing it finally! really nervous excited to be using the weird west trope. there is also this artwork i saw after i finished writing and it screamed THE DEAL. enjoy your reading!!!

my halloween's masterlist

"Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it." (The Monkey's Paw - W.W. Jacobs)

When Mr. Strauss asked you to help Arthur, you promptly said yes. Arthur always had so much on his plate, taking care of everyone and everything, so you would take any weight from his shoulder if you could. Arthur didn't like that at first, you alone going to collect debts, but you had proved yourself over and over again. You understood him, though; this life as outlaws wasn't easy, and any of you could lose your life every time you went out. It was nice to have someone caring for you after all those years, to have Arthur be protective over you since you two started going out.

So, of course, when Mr. Strauss asked for help collecting a few debts in a morning while Arthur was away, you promptly accepted. He explained it should be easy, nothing someone with your type of experience couldn't handle. A window called Jane Huxley, a frail banker named Joseph Willis, and lastly, an old man called Bernard Miller. None of them would present much of a fight if the situation arose, despite Mr. Strauss's warnings for you to be careful. Their debts were small but still needed for the camp. You had a vague suspicion Mr. Strauss didn’t want to endanger you, primarily due to Arthur’s anger.

It is late when you arrive at Bernard Miller's house, late enough for the moon to be up in the sky. You should have been there way earlier, but Mrs. Huxley had an outraged brother you had to defend yourself from, and who would have thought a frail banker could run that fast? You dismount your horse, your eyes scanning the situation ahead: a single cabin in the deep woods. Nothing is out of the ordinary, so you hope your last one will be easy.

It is a warm and humid night, and you can feel sweat on your neck. There were no houses along the way to Bernard Miller's cabin. You don't remember when you heard a single noise. It has been a while since you were deep in the woods like this. Your horse seems agitated, and you pet him, promising tons of sugar cubes after this.

The cabin in front of you is old and probably only has one room. As you walk closer, you notice candles lit from the windows so the old man could still be awake. You wonder how he lives in such an eerie place and all alone. There is no presence of a stable or any livestock. Maybe he has friends that visit him? As per Mr. Strauss's statement, Mr. Miller could barely stand. It is none of your business at the end of the day; your job is to get the money back and get the hell out of there.

You enter the house without announcing yourself, not surprised by how rustic it looks inside. It looks uninhabitable, with a couple of holes in the ceiling. There is a bed, a table, a nightstand, an old cupboard, and a chair. Sitting in the chair, probably the oldest human being you have ever seen. Older than Hosea and Uncle together, with wrinkles all over his body. When you enter, Mr. Miller eats soup under the candles and barely lifts his eyes to look at you. A big, white, messy beard, long white hair, and dark eyes are the only things you notice.

“Mr. Miller, I have come to collect the money you borrowed from Mr. Strauss.”

Mr. Miller stops mid-air with his spoon and looks straight at you. Immediately, every single strand of your hair raises from your arms. As a gunslinger, your survival instincts had to be high if you wanted to live to tell a story the next day. You learned very early to read dangerous situations and escape them as quickly as possible. Or fight, which was always your last option. That’s how people survived. But never freeze. The situation you are in right now gave you none of those options. You couldn’t run. You couldn’t fight. You are stuck in Bernard Miller’s enigmatic stare, unable to move. You bite your lips enough to almost draw blood, a resource you learned at a young age to wake up, but you still can’t move. As if the world is frozen all around you.

Bernard Miller gives you a small smile, and the world starts spinning again. Your heart beats to remind your lungs need air. You give one deep breath, and Mr. Miller returns his attention to his soup.

“I won’t ask again. Where is the money you got from Mr. Strauss?” You are surprised your voice isn’t shaking, but your legs are. Your hand is over your revolver to give you a certain sense of safety.

Mr. Miller continues eating, and you start roaming around his house. Your first instinct is to look into the old cupboard that the old man uses as a kitchen: nothing except for a few cans of old food. You don’t even think of taking those, walking towards the nightstand. When you pass Mr. Miller, you catch the soup he eats is grey with pieces that look like fish. He doesn’t flinch or complain when you roam through his bed, finally stopping by his nightstand. You find the exact amount of dollars you need in very clean notes when you open the drawer. Your hand stops mid-air as you approach to get the money. Why are those notes so clean compared to the rest of the house? You aren’t one to believe in curses; you believe a single bullet could end a man’s life, and that was it. No ghosts or devils existed in a world where humans could be so bad. The spoon hits the plate, waking you from your entrance. With one final decision, you get the money, relieved you are finally done with this place.

When you walk towards the door, a shallow voice mutters.

“He's goin' to die, you know?”

You stop in your tracks.

“What did you say?” You answer back, your voice is so low you would be surprised the old man heard it.

“The one you love. He's goin' to die.”

The hand grabs your pistol again as you turn in your heels to stare at Bernard Miller. He is standing, his eyes straight towards you.

“We're all goin' to die. We're humans.” You don’t even know why you are still there: you got precisely what you needed. But something, an invisible magnetic force, kept you there. One that you can’t fight or run.

Because Bernard better not be speaking about Arthur. The old man's yellow smile just gets bigger, as if listening to your thoughts.

“He's goin' to get very sick, and you won't be able to do anything about it, except watch powerless as life slowly drains from him. There is nothin' you'll be able to do unless one thing: you'll come to find me.”

“Old man, I don’t know what in the hell you speak of, but if you don't shut—”

“You'll come to find me.” Bernard finishes, decisive.

“Go to hell.” You whisper before leaving through the door.

It is good to feel the night air in your lungs. It makes you focus properly: you want to look back to the rustic cabin as you dash to your horse, but you don’t. Something says you wouldn’t like what you see. You ride away from Bernard Miller’s home, swearing yourself to never come back.

Your horse seems to share your fears, and you arrive at the camp in record time. The words of Miller stuck in your head as a chant.

“You'll come to find me.”

“The one you love is goin' to die.”

It had to be a way for him to scare you not to take his money. It had to. Javier is on watch and waves when he sees you passing.

When you arrive at camp and give your horse those promised pets and tons of sugar cubes, you calm yourself a little. You are back in your safe place, surrounded by the voices of the people around you. Maybe you need a drink. Or two. Slowly, the sense of normality floods your body. Sean, with Karen on his lap and Uncle singing together drunk around the campfire, makes you smile. You stop by the camp’s box, placing the money there, and a hand on your shoulder makes you jump. It is Mr. Strauss, with a satisfied expression.

“How was everything?"

"All good. Got everyone. Mr. Miller tried to scare me a little at the end, but I also got his money."

"Who?"

"The old guy? Bernard Miller? Creepy and ancient?"

Mr. Strauss looks at his record book, a slightly confused expression. You move your weight from one leg to another as Mr. Strauss flips through his book. When he is done, Mr. Strauss raises his eyes, simply stating.

“Well, at least it is done.”

He leaves without saying another word as you stand, uncomfortable. Why, for a second, it seemed Mr. Strauss didn't even remember Bernard Miller? You turn your face toward Sean’s group and notice Arthur sitting there, observing you. You smile, forgetting about Bernard Miller for a moment. His beard and hair are a little longer than the last time you saw him, almost two weeks ago. You want nothing else to run toward his embrace, but you and Arthur try to keep your relationship more private. Arthur looks tired, and you nod slightly toward your shared tent. Should you tell Arthur? He certainly is like you: he doesn’t believe much in those supernatural things.

It doesn’t take long for him to join you in the tent. As Arthur walks in, and you are shielded from the exterior eyes, his arms are on you. You two hold each other in the darkness, not speaking. After your eyes adjust, Arthur holds your face to give one good look at you.

“Missed ya.”

You don’t answer, holding him tightly with your arms. You are never letting go of him. He is going to die, you know? A shiver passes your body, and you hide your face into Arthur’s body. That doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Arthur separates gently, rubbing your arms.

“Heard you went to get some money back for Strauss. Did anythin' happen?”

“No.” You don’t want to tell Arthur precisely what happened. He might find you silly. As a gunslinger, you had to believe in real people, real danger, not some made-up ghost or whatever lived in that cabin. And he would be right.

“You sure?” Damn you, Arthur Morgan, who knows you so well that can even sense when you are lying. You nod, giving him a half smile.

“Yes.”

Arthur doesn’t seem entirely satisfied, but he doesn’t push it to which you are thankful. He tells you he doesn’t like when Strauss sends you on debt-collecting missions alone because some people could turn violent. You don’t discuss, simply letting that warm feeling spread in your heart. You liked it when Arthur got protective over you. You warn him you can take care of yourself, and Arthur nods, apprehensive.

“I know. I know you can.” Arthur mutters. He doesn’t have to complete the sentence. I can’t lose you is hanging in the air.

You are both dirty and exhausted, and his beard scratches against your skin when you deeply kiss him. Arthur kisses you a little longer than a typical good night kiss, but when you break away, he offers no resistance.

“I love you. You aren’t losing me, okay? And I am not losing you.” You tell him as a promise to anyone who might be listening.

He's going to die, you know?

You don’t know where you are going. Your horse is riding without a destination, just racing across the fields of green. Arthur just told he is dying. And instead of staying as his supportive partner, you flew. You had enough. Arthur didn’t attempt to make you stay; he watched miserably as you mounted your horse, leaving the camp. A place you should have left a long time ago with Arthur. Away from Dutch’s insanity, from death. Run away and never look back. Run away from all death and despair.

But Arthur is loyal, and you are loyal to him.

The tears flood into your eyes, and you are sobbing, loud. Your horse runs faster, fuelled by your pain. You need to get away from everyone right now. You are furious but mostly more irate with yourself. You still remember Arthur’s expression as he watched you leave: upset but resigned. He doesn’t even expect you to come back. It would be better for you anyway.

Your surroundings change as your horse rides away. As if the wind across your face can take all your pain and anger.

When you finally stop your horse, you repeatedly apologize to him, laying your head against his head. Your horse shakes his head, and you dismount, still apologizing with your fingers shaking.

It gives you a few moments to recognize where you are: right in front of Bernard Miller’s house. It is still old, still standing. As if you just left from collecting that debt long ago. When Arthur wasn’t sick. When everyone was alive and well. When things were still okay.

You'll come to find me.

You should jump in your horse and get away from there. But you don’t.

When he is sick, you'll come and find me.

The voice that has been tormenting you speaks in your head. You forget about your horse and anything around you and slowly walk toward the house.

What would you do for him?

How much are you willing to give for Arthur Morgan’s life?

“Anythin'.” You answer to nothing.

The door opens, and a young man walks out of the cabin. You stop mid-track, your eyes locked with the dark eyes in front of you. It is Bernard Miller. Except he isn’t old anymore. He is still wearing the same old dirty clothes he wore when you first came to collect the money, but he is young. Handsome. Black hair, the same slight smile on his face that bewitched you. Bernard doesn’t seem surprised to see you. No. He smiles as if he had been expecting you this whole time, and how dare you to be so late? He doesn’t speak as you start sobbing quietly.

“He's sick. As you said.” You mumble, pathetic. It couldn’t be Bernard, the only last sane part of your mind tells you: it could be anybody else, his grandson, a stranger, anyone else?? You had to hold onto that last sane thought.

“And what do you require from me?” The way Bernard spoke now. His voice was as if an icy knife cutting against your skin. You inevitably chill, wincing away. You hold yourself together for Arthur.

“You can cure him, can’t you? You shouldn't, it shouldn't be possible, but you can. I know you can.” You murmur, not knowing where that knowledge has come from. Bernard looks satisfied and utterly different from when you saw him, but you simply accept it. He shouldn't look like that, there was no possible explanation for this man to be Bernard Miller. But you accept it anyway; you will take whatever is coming to save Arthur’s life. And something told you this man, whatever he was, could help.

Because you had to be going insane, right?

“I can. There is a price to pay.” Bernard states, and you instantly nod.

He starts closing the distance between you, and your knees give in. In a sign of respect or adoration, you don't know, it doesn't seem to matter anymore. Bernard doesn’t seem surprised as your knees drop onto the floor with your head down. You don’t care; you say it out loud, and he knows it. Bernard opens a big, twisted smile, and you find comfort where you once found fear.

I will do anything to save Arthur Morgan’s life.

Even your soul?

Even my soul. Anything.

As Bernard touches your cheek, you close your eyes. The sensation of comfort just gets more significant in your chest as you disconnect from your body. The last part of you that screams you shouldn’t have done this is shut off. You know now, as inevitable as the sun will rise tomorrow, that Arthur Morgan isn’t dying of that damn disease.

You smile back.

You wake up hours later, extremely confused. You look around, and the cabin of Bernard is still there, but it looks much older than before. As if no one has lived there for years and years. You get up, hungry and thirsty. It must have been some sort of crazy nightmare, you think.

You ride back to the camp, trying to remember the events from last night. Arthur told you he was sick, and you left angry and furious instead of facing or even comforting him. By the time you arrive at the camp, he has left again. No one is looking at you differently, which you find weirdly comforting.

A few days pass until you see Arthur again, and he looks…better? His face isn’t as pale anymore, and he has some blush on his cheek. As if life is coming back to him.

“How are you feeling?” You wonder as he stops by your side.

“Fine? I almost haven't coughed the way here.”

You nod, happy. Maybe Arthur was getting better. What did those doctors know anyway? There is no one strong as your Arthur Morgan, and he would live many and many years.

The gang is over. After killing Micah, Arthur finds you where you two had agreed to meet. A start of a new life, as he said. Away from crime, away from that horrible life. Just you and him, a few horses, some livestock. A simple lifestyle. Arthur didn’t need much, you didn't need much. You had each other. You had forgotten entirely about Bernard Miller, happy to share a life you always wanted with the man you deeply loved.

But a deal is a deal. And when time is up, time is up: you have to pay the price.

You watch as Arthur leaves to get eggs from the chicken. He gives you a kiss and leaves whistling. He looks so relaxed and happy. It warms your heart to be the one to share that with him. After years of hard work, he deserves it. You both do.

When he doesn’t return after awhile, you look for him. It is a hot day, and Arthur might need a cup of water and a few kisses. You find him fallen behind the stable, his horse close to him. Unconscious. You run towards him, the cup of water forgotten on the floor, and roll him over. He doesn’t seem to be breathing. You remember a new technique to compress the chest that you read in a book that Arthur brought you from the library a couple of weeks ago, and you start compressing his chest and blowing air on his mouth.

“Come on, Arthur, come on.”

Hours pass, and Arthur doesn’t move an inch. You drop to his side, exhausted, looking everywhere for someone. Anything to save him. You close your eyes, praying for anything to save him.

When you open your eyes, you are in front of young Bernard Miller again. Your clothes are different, and you are younger again. You are on your knees in front of Bernard Miller, just as in the day you discovered Arthur was going to die and, and...

No, it isn't possible.

You blink, confused, as Bernard Miller smiles as if he has seen this scene multiple times and still loves it every time he witnesses it.

“Even your soul?” Bernard asks, his eyes glowing in the darkness. Whatever is left of you is gone by now, but you can’t wait to live with Arthur again. And again. No matter the price, no matter the outcome, no matter the ending.

Anything for Arthur Morgan’s life. To live by his side all over again.

“Even my soul. Anything."

taglist: @agqrtz, @daydreamrot, @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs. if you would like to be tagged into my halloween event, let me know!!

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfics #arthur morgan horror

75 notes · View notes

shantalanadevil · 6 months ago

Text

Nicholas Galitzine and his team have definitely decided that going mainstream is the goal and anything that they control will not "remind" people of his most famous queer role. Least he loses the newly acquired wine mom demographic and potentially the possible dude-bro one (that is expected with the new role that was just announced.

For more in- depth thoughts, you can read the below, which goes over why and how you can still enjoy the sequel (I plan to do that), even if you don't like the current events.

At least now people can't hide behind the "social media'' clause because of another production when there were questions why he isn't announcing the sequel on his social media. Even if casting announcements on an actor's own socials are never part of what is considered promotion for a project (trade announcements are, but that is done by the studio), actors WANT to do them as it's announcing they are booked and busy, thus it is part of their professional branding.

Thus when they don't do it, people who are familiar with the industry take notes.

Does it mean most people online will do a nuanced discussion on why the only white, straight and male actor from the main cast of a queer com-rom has decided not to put the trade announced sequel anywhere on his socials?

No, people will either do the simplifications of "He loves RWRB, why does it matter if he hasn't posted on Instagram on it" (the majority) or "He is homophobic and needs to be recast" (a very small minority) camps.

The first camp loves the movie and has an emotional attachment to the character, which quite often transfers to actors. But in their wish to spare their own feelings they will try to silence the voices of people who are right to ask the valid questions on how an actor is using his own social media to highlight the work they WANT highlighted. And how they can ignore the work they DON'T want highlighted.

This isn't speculation. This is how Hollywood works and there social media isn't used the same way normal people use it. It is a work tool.

The second camp will boil the whole situation down to personal homophobia and call it a closed case. Which is as bad as the first camp, as this just makes the first camp and pure NG fans defensive (as NG personally hasn't shown any signs of that) and stops any possible valid discussion.

As I mentioned in a previous post shortly after the sequel was announced, his team's strategy has been obvious for months, but they really f***ed it up in May.

They could have shared 1-2 stories about the announcement (even if grid is some standard, as shown yesterday) and they could have avoided 90% of the issue by doing the bare minimum. They *decided* to not even do that. Which spells things even more clear out.

Wine moms and dude-bros are more valuable than queer people. And most likely in terms of possible money they are not wrong. Those demographics aren't also known for being very rainbow friendly. Why do you think it is so hard for out actors to get roles in movies targeted at that demographic?

So NG and his team did the simplest of maths equation and came up with = don't highlight anything RWRB related on your socials so as not to scare out those two pools. The M&G finale story isn’t queer focused so that was approved (and further showed there is no social media clause for other projects, as that falls under the umbrella of promotion).

This is the same thought process that keeps *actual* queer actors in the closet. So I'm not surprised that the team of a straight actor is operating under the same assumption in terms of personal branding.

Does this excuse the handling of RWRB? No, and thus I don't care much about his other projects. Which I have the right to do.

Does it lower my excitement for the sequel? No, as he is a good actor and I care about Henry, not about NG (because of his own actions). I care way more about the RWRB story than I do for an actor who is just doing his job.

For the people that feel hurt by his actions and this is making it difficult to be excited for the sequel, I am truly sorry and I hope by the time when the sequel comes out and the contractual part of the promotion is here you will be able to find a way to enjoy the project itself.

For the people that claim to love RWRB and are dismissing any valid criticism towards how NG is using his work tools to treat a project you claim to love, you sound a little like the people in a relationship who claim you are ok with being the secret partner. Some really are. But most? Just use it as an excuse not to have to look the truth in the eyes, as that will hurt them.

For the people who love NG and just look at RWRB as one of his jobs, you actually have no staks in this specific discussion, you are winning. Unless you are one of the few morons who go out of their way to shit on RWRB and its fans and are purposely going into those spaces to be nasty. Then you can jump off a high place. Or the ones who take any, even valid, criticism of their *fave* as a personal attack. You can touch some grass.

Just needed to vent a little bit as I was getting fed up with people on Twitter from the first camp moaning how social media doesn’t matter and all should just look at the good stuff.

Lastly, for anybody asking, but why did he sign on for the sequel if he and his team think like this? Because most if not all studio films have a possible sequel clause in the contract for any film and as long as the studio wants to do so and fulfils some mentioned in the contract obligation (could be money, could be script), they have a pretty easy way of getting actors back.

#red white and royal blue #nicholas galitzine #queer media

34 notes · View notes

agaypanic · 1 year ago

Note

Childhood friends to lovers with Francis Wilkerson x male reader 🙏🙏🙏

Francis thinking he’s straight until he and reader get older and he starts to question himself. They start to lose touch when Francis gets sent to military school, but when he comes back he sees reader and is like “…ok maybe I’m a little gay-“ maybe ends in fluffy kisses 🥹

Kissing The Homie (Francis Wilkerson X Male!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Francis always thought he was straight. When he comes home from military school and sees his childhood friend for the first time in almost two years, he starts to learn some things about himself.

A/N: kind of unserious title bc i didn’t know what to title this lol also i feel like this sucks but i wanted to work on something

***

“What the hell do you mean you’re going to Alabama?” You asked your best friend, about to laugh. This must have been some insane joke. “Francis, you can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t, man.” He sighed, running a hand through his long hair and taking a drag of his cigarette. “My mom’s crazy.”

“Can you blame her? She’s got you as a son.” You snorted at your own jab, and Francis shoved your shoulder.

“It’s not funny, Y/n! I’m going to military school; I might as well die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Francis.” You snatched his cigarette to take a smoke. “You’ll get kicked out and be back here before you know it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He murmured. The two of you were quiet for a minute, passing the cigarette back and forth. In a week, Francis was getting shipped off to a military school across the country, and although you joked about it, you didn’t know when you’d see him again, if at all. Sure, you’d been friends since you were five, but being states away with probably little contact could change that.

“I’ll miss you, man.” You said solemnly before smashing the lit cigarette against the bottom of your shoe. Francis laughed, shaking his head.

“Don’t be gay, dude.” Now it was your turn to push him.

“Shut up.”

***

Contact with Francis became less and less the more that time went on. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault; you two just became too busy with other things. You pulled away from Richie and Francis’ other friends, realizing that you only ever hung out with them because Francis hung out with them. Not wanting to end up in the same boat your friend was in, you started focusing more on school. You and Francis tried to keep up with each other, but sending letters felt too time-consuming, and Francis used most of his phone calls on his family or girlfriend of the week.

You’d sulk about it, but that’s just how life worked.

Because you and Francis were childhood friends, your parents were somewhat close with each other. So you weren’t surprised when you came home from school one day, and your mom told you she got Lois to get you a job at Lucky Aide. The only bright side was getting money, although it wasn’t much.

After what felt like forever, spring break had finally come. It didn’t feel like much of a difference to you since you still had to work, but it’s the thought that counts. You got to work fewer hours because Lucky Aide had some kind of program going on where a bunch of people could work and do inventory for the week. Craig was in charge of it, so you didn’t care much about it.

“Hey, I got another box for you.” A voice sounded behind you while you were stocking a shelf. It sounded a bit familiar, but then again, this was a small town.

“Thanks, man. Just put it next to the open one.” You turned around and were startled by the baby blue eyes looking at you. “Holy shit. Francis?”

“Y/n, hey!” Francis dropped the box and roped you into a hug, patting you on the back. You hugged him back, a bit shocked. “I didn’t know you worked at Lucky Aide.”

“Have been for a few months. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Just for spring break.”

“Nice, nice.” You nodded, looking him up and down. Military school seemed to do him some good. Not behavior-wise, he was probably still a menace. But you mentally thanked whoever made him cut his hair. Sure, the long hair looked cool. But it looked so good the way it was now, short but messy. And after almost two years, he seemed so much more mature. Again, not behaviorally. He looked, dare you say, kind of hot.

Wait, you shouldn’t be looking at your friend this way. You didn’t like guys.

Maybe.

Little did you know, Francis was looking at you the same way. He didn’t think anyone would look as good as you did in a Lucky Aide smock. You filled it out perfectly. And you had certainly grown a lot since he last saw you, almost reaching his height now with broader shoulders. But you still had the smart-ass smirk on your face that he loved to see.

But Francis wasn’t gay. Nuh-uh. He just knew how to appreciate another dude’s looks. Yeah, that’s it.

“Well, listen, man. I dunno when your shift is over, but I get off at five, so maybe tonight we could catch up or something.” You suggested, continuing your task of restocking the shelves behind you. Even though he probably had something to do, Francis helped you by handing you items from the box.

“Yeah, that sounds great. My mom’s being a real pain in the ass-”

“What else is new?”

“-so I’m a little desperate to get away from home.”

“Well, I have a car now, so just let me know when you’re free.” He was about to answer you when Craig appeared at the end of the aisle.

“Francis! What are you doing here? The bouncy balls are not gonna recount themselves.” You laughed while Francis rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed his peace was interrupted.

“You better go.” You said, taking the final item from his hands. He sighed, briefly balling his hands into fists before letting them rest at his sides.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, man.” You patted his shoulder before pushing him away, watching him mope and drag his feet toward where Craig was waiting for him.

***

Instead of waiting until his shift ended, Francis snuck out behind you after you clocked out. He raised the collar of his jacket to cover his face as he ran out to your car, making you cackle as you fished around in your pocket for your keys. He practically dove into the passenger’s seat when the car was unlocked.

“Where do you wanna go?” You asked as you settled in the driver’s seat, turning the car on.

“As long as I’m out of the house and not at work, I literally don’t care.”

Half an hour later, you were tearing into a giant bag of fast food in a park’s parking lot. A random radio station played as you messily ate the cheap food. You reached down to the floor of your backseat and pulled out a bottle of cheap alcohol. Francis definitely wasn’t opposed when you offered to splash some in his soda cup.

“So, what’s military school like?” You asked, chewing through the last of the curly fries. Francis swallowed the bite of his burger and grinned over at you.

“Dude, it’s so much better than I thought it’d be. I mean, most of it sucks, but the amount of shit I’ve gotten into is crazy.”

“Such as?” Francis’ eyes lit up. Clearly, a story had popped into his head, but then he sunk into his seat as if it were embarrassing. “Oh man, this one’s gotta be good.”

“Okay, so it was sometime last year. A buddy of mine and I did community service for a local beauty pageant. It was perfect, half-naked women everywhere who would want some kind of attention. Of course, I showed interest in the pageant to get with one of them. But…” He trailed off, and you leaned toward him in your seat, silently egging him on. He looked away from you. “But instead, she and the rest of the girls thought I was gay.”

You couldn’t help but snort.

“Were they right?” You received an eye roll and a punch in the shoulder.

“Shut up, man.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t tell me all that and expect me to not ask questions.” You looked away and took a bite of your burger, confused by the slight disappointment you felt. It’s not like you really cared about the answer. “It’s no big deal if you are, bud.”

“And who said I am?” Francis’ voice was higher than it just was, like he was slightly panicked by the accusation.

“Those pageant girls, apparently.” You answered with a teasing grin. “Ever kissed a guy?”

“Gee, Y/n, no. Guess I never had the opportunity.” Francis sighed, taking a large sip of his spiked soda. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Sure, it seemed believable while he lived in a military academy in Alabama. But, especially looking the way Francis does now, you’re hesitant to believe he never even had the offer.

Huh, maybe you did like guys. Or at least a guy.

“Do you want an opportunity?” The words left your mouth before you even thought about them, surprising you further. By the look on his face, Francis was just as surprised.

“What?” He managed to choke out. You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the fact that you had just offered to kiss your childhood-turned-somewhat estranged best friend.

“Just saying, Francis. Better to kiss a friend than a stranger. Besides, who knows? You might like it.” You kept out the part that you were now secretly rooting for him to accept. You smirked at a now thoughtful Francis, trying to seem uncaring yet slightly intrigued by the whole matter.

A quiet Francis wasn’t a good one, which had you worried. You had half a mind to laugh, claiming that you were joking or that the cheap alcohol had taken your filter. But you were too deep now; you wanted to know what he’d say.

Francis licked his lips before turning to look at you, taking a deep exhale.

“Fuck it.” The craziest part was that he seemed completely serious.

Wordlessly, you both prepared yourselves. There seemed to be this unspoken agreement that whatever happened in your car would stay in your car until the both of you died. You took a final long sip of liquid courage before Francis took your face in his hands. You didn’t expect him to take charge of the situation, but you’re glad he did because the situation probably wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t.

The kiss was quick but enough to absolutely boggle your mind. Francis slipped one of his hands to the back of your head to draw you in. His fingers became tangled with your hair, keeping you in place after he pulled away. The two of you were quiet with eyes closed, not knowing how to proceed.

“Am I a good kisser, Wilkerson?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood. Francis took the shy grin off your lips with another quick kiss, and when he pulled away, you opened your eyes this time. His baby blue eyes stared at you, filled with surprise and profoundness and what you wanted to say was lust.

“Okay…” Francis licked his lips again, taking a deep breath. God, it was so hot. “I think I might be a little gay.”

“Agreed.” You replied, staring back at him. He immediately went back in for a kiss that was longer and deeper than the previous ones. And you didn’t complain in the slightest.

#francis wilkerson x reader #francis wilkerson #francis wilkerson x male reader #malcolm in the middle #malcolm in the middle x reader #agaypanic

71 notes · View notes