#and what's insane is that I feel like that's probably one of the least disrespectful things they've done to him these past years... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spiderhanzzz · 6 months ago

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"WORST REGARDS, YOUR KARMIC RETRIBUTION" — yang jeongin.

they say success is the best revenge, but sabotage feels better.

word count: 5.8k

pairings: jock!jeongin x nerd!reader

genre: fluff, humour, high school au, one sided enemies to lovers, slow burn, loosely inspired by i hope this doesn't find you by ann liang

warnings: swearing, partying, kissing, biblically accurate (religious) jeongin, everyone is the same age except chan, no use of y/n + gn reader, reader is literally evil incarnate plz dont do this irl ;;

playlist: ivy frank ocean, sexy to someone clairo, everybody talks neon trees, i can't radiohead

a/n: dedicated to @allforhee & all the other i.n stans out there :3 enjoy!!!

You know a lot of things. You know that the idea of zero was invented by an Indian mathematician and astronomer named Brahmagupta. You know how to recite your future Valedictorian speech in Latin. However besides these things, you also know that most things in life are pretty much uncertain.

Except your hatred for Yang Jeongin. That is your probability of 1.

Although your best friend Kim Seungmin says that your probability of 1 should probably be the fact that you’re a damn sore loser.

So when classes started to end and your school’s sports day rolled around, everyone knew not to cross your path. Either they would be on your team, or they wouldn’t even get near you. You’re not even that athletic; in fact, you can barely work out to save your life. But you’re the brains, the mastermind, of your team’s strategies. It’s like that saying, if you can’t beat ‘em, outsmart ‘em, or something like that.

You knew you were winning, or at least you thought you knew. Because just when you were about to cross your final lap of the track and field match, the corner of your eye caught a glimpse of Yang Jeongin’s infamously cordial grin. Disturbed by the audacity, you stop in your tracks to look at his friends sitting on the bleachers and feel a rush of satisfaction rush back in when you see them petrified for their friend’s questionable actions.

He won, of course. And though you took home five more gold medals than him that day, something about the utter disrespect of stealing the spotlight from somebody so clearly feared for a reason unsettles you.

Which is why you’re currently writing a letter to him threatening to take away his position in the basketball team if he doesn’t earn back your respect that he lost from a sports day event three years ago.

It’s less of a letter and more of a drafted email, since you’re not writing it by hand; he doesn’t get to have that sort of power over you. You’re not sending it either. God, no. You’re not that insane.

It’s simply a form of coping, nothing more. You’d reckon if you were to ask a therapist about this method, they would think it’s stellar. It’s like journaling… except instead of self-reflection, the end goal is to live in the delusional cloud where your nemesis knows and fears how much you hate them.

Do whatever your wretched soul can manage to revert back to the regular human state— that is, being absolutely petrified of my existence. Otherwise, say goodbye to that pretty “varsity basketball” title you adore so much.

A smirk twists upon the edges of your lips as your gaze fixes on the words you’ve just typed out. What’s the word for when you gain pleasure from the idea of torturing somebody else? You’re sure ‘sadist’ doesn’t apply when you only crave the suffering of one specific person.

You consider rewriting the entire letter on paper, for the sole purpose of leaving a crimson lipstick stain on the envelope for him to unseal. You don’t even use red lipstick, but perhaps the Irene Adler-ness of it all might subconsciously trigger a flight or fight response from him, as most stupid teenage boys do when faced with distinct power.

When other people fall asleep to daydreams about their crushes, you often drift away to slumber through the relaxation brought upon you from fantasizing about Yang Jeongin on his knees, begging for your forgiveness.

You would have fallen asleep to that dream for yet another night, but your best friend Kim Seungmin rang your phone. Now, if it was any other night, you would have sent him death threats and went back to your fantasies. However you had just asked Seungmin for a very special favor, so you decide to pick up.

“This better be about what I think it is,” you start. “I won’t put up with your post-exam depression bullshit tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that, I managed to get extra credits for everything.” Thuds and crackles fill the audio from the other side of the phone, and you can practically smell Seungmin’s bag of chips and old dusty laptop opening on his desk. “I got what you asked for.”

“Good, just forward it to my email.”

“I don’t understand why you would need it, though,” Seungmin’s voice is muffled by the chips in his mouth. “I mean, the team’s orders at Lucy’s Diner? Seriously? If you had a crush on one of them, you know I could just set you up, right?”

“Ew, I would never!” You fake gag, earning a chuckle from the boy on the other line. “C’mon, you know I have too much self respect for that.” “I think you mispronounced blatant narcissism and self obsession.”

The two of you go back and forth teasing one another for another moment until you urge Seungmin to send the list to your email. He inquires once again but you only brush him off, coming up with something about helping out at Lucy’s for the summer. Which wouldn’t be a complete lie, technically, if all went well.

You know you can’t tell Seungmin about your plan. Not right now. He’s reached that stage of being a teenage boy where he started developing attachment and empathy towards others, and now he’s practically attached at the hip with the rest of the basketball team. All he knows is that you hate Jeongin, and that’s enough for now.

And sure, this whole situation has made you question if you were actually a sociopath, but it needs to be done. You consider it a fair service to the community for taking down another straight male with no brains and a huge ego. They don’t know it yet, but he’s the common enemy.

Soon enough after the sports day incident you had come to the conclusion that if nobody could hate Yang Jeongin, you would make him hate you so much until a primal, animalistic desire to destroy you would take over his spirit. You assume he’d do something so utterly terrible, as men do, then afterwards everyone would finally see with their own two eyes that he is just like every other man in this cruel world. If anything, you’re volunteering as a sacrifice!

So as you zone out on Seungmin’s newfound amusement in the way Mr Marks’ glasses make him look like Chicken Little, you switch your tabs to open the sacred document.

In big, bold letters it reads OPERATION 143: 1 ENEMY, 4 PHASES, 3 YEARS.

The document itself already has over 25 pages, written in detail about your genius ideas to slowly infiltrate your enemy base from the inside out— most worked, but some of them just ended in your loss of dignity. You had even taken ideas from books and films like Parasite to further enhance its artistic integrity. These last three years were a performance, and Jeongin’s life is your stage. You have now entered phase four, and this is your closing act; nobody can steal your spotlight.

Contrary to the precise executions of your past eras, phase four is abstract. Its main goals are to disrupt Yang Jeongin’s peace as directly as possible, whilst leaving as little trail as possible. This, paired with the built up tension from the previous phases, is going to set in motion a domino effect, leading to the collapse of your greatest enemy’s social stature.

Accidentally letting a particularly mischievous giggle slip under your breath, you look back at the email you were drafting to him. You know exactly how to end it.

Careful where you run, Yang Jeongin.

Worst regards,

your karmic retribution.

This is your least favorite time of the year: the period just before summer break. Exams are over, so most teachers let students roam free during their lessons. But not going to school at all can take away from your total attendance, which then goes on your report card, so most students spend their school days sitting around in boredom and watching the sports teams play.

seungmo: Do u wanna come to practice

seungmo: Jisung bought cheesecake for everyone and I don’t want mine

seungmo: I don’t want him to take mine tho lol

That was fifteen minutes ago, and now you’re sitting on the bleachers on a date with a delicious slice of blueberry cheesecake and iced coffee, absentmindedly watching your best friend practice. Despite your close ties with Seungmin, you’ve never really been interested in the other team members— except for the occasional trading of homework answers with Jisung. Ever since middle school, you’ve sort of established that you want nothing to do with people like them: rowdy, sporty, and popular. Seungmin once noted that you say “popular” like it’s a slur. You couldn’t disagree.

“So… Karmic retribution, huh?”

You freeze.

“Pardon?” You turn around, only to be faced with the one and only Yang Jeongin.

“Karmic retribution?” He inquires further, expecting you to get the hint. “Y’know, what you called yourself in your… email? Death threat? Not sure what to call it, actually.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude,” you laugh off the question. “I don’t even know your name, let alone your email.”

“Well, that’s clearly a lie, since your name is on your email address. And my name was in your… Seriously, what should I call this thing?”

Fuck fuck fuck. You must have accidentally hit ‘send’ when you fell asleep on the phone with Seungmin. That prick; he always manages to embarrass you somehow.

“Listen, I didn’t even know you go here. I had to ask Chris if he knows which one you are, and you just happened to be here right now.” Jeongin rakes his fingers through his stupid gross sweaty damp hair, then dragging his palm across his face in exasperation. “Whatever I did to you, I’m really sorry.”

“What do you mean you didn’t know I go here?” You’re baffled, truly baffled, and you basically lost control of your body when you heard those words. Suddenly your voice can be heard by anyone within a ten foot radius, and if it weren’t for that they would have thought you were about to smother him with kisses by the lack of distance between your bodies. “I’ve been here since fucking middle school! I sit behind you in Spanish— I ask you for a pen every two and a half weeks only to lose it every single time. You’re saying you don't remember me?”

“Oh, that’s you? My bad. You sit behind me, so I didn’t really get to see your face up close.” Jeongin doesn’t even flinch at the proximity of your faces. He simply gives you a brief look up and down and goes, “Now that I am seeing you up close, you’re the one that always hangs out with Seungmin, right?”

Then it hits you: this is the universe sending you a signal to initiate phase four. Sure, him not remembering who you are might have set you back by a few milestones, but who’s counting? (You are. You always are.)

If anything, you’re grateful for the redirection, because now you know that before you can ruin him, you must first build him up.

“Alright, look,” you begin, taking a step back to put some inches between the two of you. He reeks of rubber and soda, the stench makes you ill. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

“‘Kay, cool,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “See you around, I guess…?”

“Wait, that’s it? You’re not even gonna ask why I hated you in the first place?”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re already starting over.” The genuine lack of irritation in his face makes you curl your fists and fight the urge to give him a black eye. “Plus, you’re one of those nice smart kids. I don’t have beef with your kind.”

And for the first time in your life you wanted desperately to become popular, because maybe then Jeongin would take you seriously.

But it’s fine. You’re going to destroy him regardless.

“Yo, not to interrupt this whole bonding thing we have going on, but I kinda need to head back to practice.” His voice snaps you back to reality. “Is that chill with you?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s chill.” You muster up your most convincing smile for him. One time in fifth grade your drama teacher told you you’re a natural actor, and you pray to God those innate talents are still there. Now that you think about it, she may have just been calling you a liar.

For good measure, you give him an awkward thumbs up before walking away. When you make eye contact with Seungmin, he raises his eyebrow as if to ask what the fuck was that? You can only shrug in response. You have no idea either.

You sit back down on the bleachers, occasionally eyeing your target, feasting your eyes on the way his muscles flex under his baggy Radiohead t-shirt when he dribbles the ball around the court and the sweat that drips from his hair. You’re used to your own deranged behavior, but this feels almost perverse. Maybe it’s because you’re basically acquaintances with him now (the word makes you want to spit your cheesecake back up), or maybe it’s because you can’t help but let your stare linger on the cross dangling from his chain.

Gross, you think to yourself, as you keep your eyes on him for the rest of the day.

On the last day of school before summer break, the unexpected happens: the basketball team invites you to their party. Well, technically, they invited everyone. It’s supposed to be Bang Chan’s last party before he graduates, and he just so happens to be friends with every single student. Thus, you and Seungmin are now situated in front of his front door, waiting for him to welcome you in.

You don’t usually go to parties, and to be very honest nobody really expects you to. The reasoning is a bit pretentious, you suppose, but you truly just don’t believe in the necessity of rebellion in leading to better adulthood. However you do believe in yourself and your incredibly sexy intellectual prowess, and you have an operation to carry out, so tonight you let yourself let loose just a bit.

“Ah, there you guys are!” Chan greets you and Seungmin, ushering you inside his… house is an understatement, honestly, it’s a mansion. “Mingle around!”

You’re still out of place, you notice. Since you didn’t plan on actually drinking or dancing, you decided to come in your usual get-up of your dream university’s merch sweater and a pair of baggy jeans. You mentally cursed yourself for not realizing that all of Chan’s friends would be the cool, charismatic type.

Suddenly wishing you had stayed home instead, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, which was (fortunately for you) on the second floor, away from most of the crowds. When you get there, however, you’re met with Jeongin’s sharp gaze in front of the door.

“Been a while,” he states, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Could I get you anything? A drink, maybe?”

“I don’t drink. At least not tonight,” you respond. Then you notice that his hands are also empty. “What about you?”

“Nah, I don’t do that stuff.” He shakes his head to enunciate his disapproval. “I don’t mind that the other guys do it, but I’m pretty religious, so…”

The devil perched upon your shoulder whispers hot but the angel on the other side exclaims what the fuck?

“Cool.” You stare at your shoes, thinking about how to turn this exchange into yet another round of revenge. When you get an idea, you beam up at him. “Wanna walk and talk with me?”

The moment he verbalizes his agreement, you grab him by the arm and rush downstairs. There, you do as you had suggested: walk and talk. Turns out Chan’s first floor is big enough for about thirty minutes of conversation.

When you get to the outdoor pool, you take off your shoes and dip your toes in the water with Jeongin following suit, sitting right beside you. Your conversation drifts to so many different topics— music, childhood TV shows, dating— you almost forget the reason why you brought him here. He’s observant, you notice, and he has thoughts on a lot of different things, something you didn’t think was possible. You always thought he was just dumb.

“Y’know, I was kinda flattered by your email, I’m not gonna lie,” he admits sheepishly.

“Pardon?” You look at him, puzzled. “Did you say flattered?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, no one really notices me like that.”

You stare at him, eyes blank and mouth agape. Surely this guy has gone insane, right? He’s one of the school’s most beloved students, by other students and faculty members alike.

“Like, I know they like me, but I don’t really stand out amongst the others. Chris is the friendly one, Minho is the mysterious one, Changbin is the strong one, Hyunjin is the artistic one, Jisung is the funny one, Felix is the kind one, Seungmin is the smart one, and what am I? I have all those qualities too, but they pale in comparison. People don’t have enough reason to hate me, but I know they think I’m boring. So being hated so passionately was kind of a big thing for me… I’m sorry, is that weird?”

If you didn’t want to slap him before, you sure as hell do now. How blindly privileged is this guy that his problem in life is not being the coolest guy on the varsity basketball team? You puff out your cheeks to hold back an exasperated sigh, and pull out a gentle smile instead.

“Jeongin, I don’t think people see you that way at all.” You place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Have you ever considered that maybe they might just be a bit intimidated by you?”

This is exactly how your mother talks to you when you start crying about how nobody ever has a crush on you on a random Thursday night. God bless that woman for gaslighting you into a positive attitude.

“You really think so?” He looks at you with these wide puppy-like eyes and you finally understand what the girls on Instagram mean when they talk about ‘getting the ick.’

“Really,” you affirm with a bright smile.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Just as he pulls you into a warm embrace, you push him just subtly enough that he wouldn’t notice it until he’s falling into the pool. With a large splash, all eyes turn to the two of you. He comes up from the water, clothes and hair drenched, and you feel a sense of satisfaction wash over you when you finally see a distressed expression etch itself onto his features.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” You lie, faking your concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m fine.” He climbs out of the pool, and you curse yourself for staring a little too long at his defined muscles under his wet shirt. Then, he turns to you and says, “Needed to cool off anyways.”

And he laughs. Laughs at himself and laughs at your befuddled face and laughs when Chan asks if he’s alright, shooting him a quick thumbs up before grabbing the nearest beach towel. When his other friends crowd around him, he laughs and laughs and laughs and it drives you fucking insane. The resonating sound of his laughter surrounds the backyard in an instant, and for a moment you wish you had drowned yourself in that pool instead.

“I will shove my middle fingers in your dimples,” you mutter under your breath, and you consider it a promise.

“Be right back,” he tells you before rushing to the nearest bathroom to change his clothes, playfully flicking droplets of water onto your face and ruffling your hair, dampening it.

You watch as he walks away, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest when you notice his smile faltering as people start to focus amongst themselves again. Now it’s your turn to laugh, half out of disbelief and half out of pure glee.

Everything is going according to plan.

“I didn’t push him.”

Lie.

“We were just talking.” Lie.

“I still hate him.”

Lie?

Wow, three lies in a row. And to your best friend, of all people. This Operation 143 has really tested your moral compass, and it’s not looking great for you. No wonder why Seungmin is calling you at 3 AM, interrogating you about what the hell happened tonight.

“See, now, some of those statements kind of contradict each other,” he states. “I have no doubt that you still hate him, but I also don’t doubt the pure evil in your heart. You would have pushed him, and you wouldn't even be sorry about it.”

“Uh, well, you’re wrong,” you tell him. “Clearly you don’t know me that well then.”

“Whatever you say, but if one day you decide to come clean of your crimes, you owe me something. Something very very dear to me.”

At first you were nervous, because it’s obvious your best friend is on to you (note to self: be less evil on a day to day basis). But then you remember it’s your best friend, there’s only one thing he would want from you in this situation.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take you out for a fancy dinner,” you sigh. “That’s only if I confess my sins to you, Father Seungmin, and it’s not happening because I’m completely innocent.”

“Please never call me that again.”

“Noted.”

At that, your phone buzzes with a new notification. It’s from an unknown number, but you can see a display name. Jeongin.

~Jeongin: u up?

God, could this guy act more like a fuckboy? Somehow noticing the tension in the air despite your physical distance, Seungmin questions your mood.

“Jeongin just texted me.”

“Oh, so that’s what he wanted your number for.”

“Are you dumb?” You ask, but it feels more like an accusation. “Why the fuck else would he ask for my number, idiot?”

Seungmin makes a noise equivalent to a shrug, and you let it pass. You were just about to question him further about Jeongin asking for your number, but the man himself texts once again.

~Jeongin: wanna hang tmr?

“Ew,” you mutter quietly. “I think he thinks we’re friends or something.”

“Oh, right, I remember you don’t do those.” You can almost hear his eyes rolling at your annoyance at Jeongin. He’s expressed his disapproval for your one-sided rivalry many times, but you always bite back with words too vulgar to write down here.

“Yeah, you know you’re only my close acquaintance, right?” You turn your attention back to your phone, biting your thumb in deep thought. “I’ll be mean to him. Should send the right message.”

You need to change your technique anyway. Befriending him only to be annoying is only going to make him like you more, and betraying him out of the blue takes too much commitment. This is phase four, after all— you have such little time to get the job done. If you manage to succeed during senior year, people aren’t gonna care anymore because everybody is leaving anyway.

You won’t shy away from it anymore; it’s time to be direct. It’s time to be evil.

You: no.

Seungmin sputters out a laugh once you send the screenshot of your texts to him. “You couldn’t have even given him a reason why? God, you’re crueler than I thought.”

“Why can’t he just hate me back?” You whine, slumping your shoulders defeatedly. “Why is he so… So nice? What’s wrong with him?”

“Maybe he likes you,” Seungmin teases. “I kinda see the vision, actually. The nerd and the jock… Classic perfection.”

“You mean cliché,” you groan. “His type is probably other athletes or something. Popular people date popular people, Seungmo.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Seungmin continues in a sing-song tone, so you close your ears and make weird noises, a signal that it’s time for him to shut the fuck up.

jeongin (DONT RESPOND): oh

jeongin (DONT RESPOND): ok :[

A week later you’re sitting in front of the bus station, waiting for Seungmin to arrive. He had promised to take you to the new coffee shop that just opened up to get some work done as a means to get ahead of other students. Nerdy as it may be, this is your summer ritual with your best friend, and if you didn’t fulfill it by the beginning of the summer, the guilt is going to eat you alive until you won’t be able to properly enjoy your holiday.

The summer breeze (or lack thereof) feels like it’s burning you alive, so you pull off your usual sweater to reveal a tank top underneath. Huffing out in irritation, you send a quick text to Seungmin.

You: wru

You: why take so long

You: ur so not a gentleman this is why ur single

Instead of an answer, you receive a phone call in return. You pick it up. “Yo, where are you? I’ve been waiting here for fifteen fucking minutes, dude, I’m parched.”

“I brought a friend,” said Seungmin, completely disregarding your complaints. “Look in front of you.”

And there he is, walking towards you with none other than Yang Jeongin beside him, waving at you like a stray puppy. You close your eyes, trying to pretend for as long as possible that none of it is real. This is probably what I get for trying to sabotage someone out of the basketball team, you think to yourself, deciding to surrender to your fate and greet them with as much kindness as you can muster for the time being.

After approximately thirty minutes of sitting down and discussing the next academic year’s syllabus, you decide that that was the last bit of kindness in your heart. So when Jeongin leaves to go to the restroom, you waste no time catching Seungmin up on what you’ve actually been doing. The letter, the operation— everything.

“25 pages?” Seungmin asks you in disbelief. “My god, that’s a thesis.”

“It might as well be, at this point.” You nod solemnly at his comment. There’s no use denying anything; at your core, you’re just pure cruel and sadistic. At the very least you know your best friend will love you regardless, even if nobody else will.

“Listen, I love you, truly I do. But you’ve got to stop,” Seungmin grabs your shoulders and looks you dead in the eye. He has never looked this serious before and meant it. “He’s, like, falling in love with you.”

“Pardon me?”

“I know, I know, it’s your worst nightmare, and I know you don’t like him like that, which is why I’m telling you this. Stop now or you will break his heart even more.”

Just as you were about to respond, Jeongin comes back to the table. If he hadn’t, you’re not sure what you would have had to say. Would you disagree with even the thought of it, telling Seungmin he’s a liar? Would you have argued that if your plan were to work, Jeongin would hate you in the end anyway? Or would you have asked him how to make those feelings grow?

But no, no. He doesn’t like you, not like that. He’s just kind, that’s all. He can’t.

And the next hour passes by like torture, with both boys having to snap you back to the present moment about five times each. You couldn’t care less about the syllabus or the coffee or the new inside jokes you all made that day. All you could think about was how Jeongin’s hand would brush against yours when he borrowed a pencil, or the way his eyes would lock with yours when he laughed at Seungmin’s sarcastic remarks.

The entire time, your mind was calculating the probability of Jeongin actually being in love with you. Each answer was always too close to 1 for your liking.

You couldn’t get him out of your head.

To be fair, you never could. But it used to be about hatred. You used to find joy in boring two-hour classes because you knew you could just spend those two hours daydreaming about what Jeongin would look like with real tears in his eyes, with a scowl on his lips, with anything other than that damned smile.

You told your boss you’d be taking the night shift at Lucy’s for a while, because your days would be spent hanging out with friends on the holidays. This isn’t true at all, of course, you just found it more difficult to escape those Jeongin-plagued thoughts when you were about to drift to slumber. Unfortunately, this didn’t work the way you had hoped, because it turns out the diner basically doesn’t have any customers after 8 PM.

It’s almost 10 PM now, the hour when you’ll have to close up the diner. Nobody has come inside in the last forty-five minutes, so you figure it’s best to close up early. That way, you’ll get more time to scroll on your phone or read a book.

You should have seen it coming, really. You know you could never escape him. There, standing in front of the doors of Lucy’s diner, is your haunting, your shadow, your karmic retribution.

“I keep thinking about you,” he says, almost breathless, as he steps into the diner.

“How long have you been standing there?” “Like, five seconds,” he answers. Then, as if to emphasize his previous statement, he says, “You owe me sleep.”

“You don’t think that goes both ways?” You turn away from him, placing all the cleaning supplies on the bar counter. When you look back, he’s already eagerly striding towards you.

“What are you saying? That you want me?”

“I… I don’t know,” you mutter. You can’t look at him, not right now, not like this. You would break not just his heart, but yours as well. “I don’t know how I feel. I need a… an experiment or an investigation or something that I know is going to tell me if this is actually real, because I have no fucking clue what’s real anymore.”

Without another word, he places both palms on the counter behind you, trapping your body between his, and kisses you.

It knocks the breath right out of your soul. Every vessel in your brain is screaming at you, reminding you that it’s wrong and he’s not supposed to like you and you’re not supposed to like him back and that you sure as hell shouldn’t be kissing him at all, let alone your workplace.

Nevertheless, you can’t help it. Everything you knew has been proven wrong. Everything you have questioned has proven themselves to be true. You know nothing at all. You kiss him back.

Acknowledging your reciprocation, he lifts a hand to cradle your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheekbone down to your jaw. He takes a step closer, pressing your body flush against his. You haven’t closed the diner; somebody could walk in at any moment.

Running your fingers through his soft locks, he takes the opportunity to trail his lips to your neck. It’s at this moment that you begin to feel everything, and it’s all too real too quick. You push him away, taking one brief glance at his disheveled hair and swollen, rose-tinted lips.

You know you shouldn’t. You know you’re being a coward. You know the answer.

Be that as it may, you still run.

seungmo: Bball game @ school tonight

seungmo: Idk what happened w u and jeongin but pls come to the game

seungmo: U know how much ive been looking forward to this

seungmo: I'll keep him away, i promise

You shouldn’t have gone. You should have stayed home, rotting in your room for yet another night, catching up on all the studying you missed out on when you went to that coffee shop with Seungmin, finding yourself tracing the shape of your lips when you’re deep in thought, recalling the way Jeongin’s felt on yours.

The truth is, you do know how much Seungmin has been looking forward to this match. He had realized long ago that you couldn’t care less about sports, but still he found your face amongst the crowd every single time. Even though you had such a deep scowl it made him chuckle every time he saw you, he felt his chest warm with affection at the act of being present.

This is one of those unconditional, unspoken rules you’ve established in your friendship. You would support him, and he would support you. You couldn’t have ditched this.

But as you approach closer and closer to the basketball court, you notice something amiss. By now, you should have been able to hear the rowdy chanting of other students. You should have already been blinded by the lights surrounding the court, considering it’s already 6 PM. You should have seen Seungmin waiting for you, but he’s not there.

Nothing’s there. Nothing but Yang Jeongin, standing in the middle of the court.

“I’m starting to think Seungmin is playing matchmaker,” you say as you walk towards him.

His face cracks into a fit of laughter, and it lights up the whole area. “You think?”

You’re close enough to him to see how puffy his eyes are— is he just exhausted or has he been crying? He’s silent for a second, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, before opening his mouth to finally speak.

“Listen, I—”

“No, no,” you interrupt him. “Let me speak first.”

“I used to despise you, as you already know. For a reason that is so stupid that if I said it out loud right now I’d pee myself laughing, probably. And I guess that hatred helped me cover up my insecurities, and that I couldn’t believe someone like me and someone like you could be with anything more than enemies.” At some point, you started looking into his eyes, and now you can’t seem to pull away. “You’re not boring, Yang Jeongin, not at all. You’re certain. You’re my probability of 1.”

“So… Moral of the story, I’m different from all the other boys, yes?” He teases, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer inch by inch.

“You think that’s the moral of the story?” “Hell, no,” he chuckles. “The moral of the story is that sometimes you need to ditch that whole superiority complex and realize that you’re exactly like everybody else. You’re smart, yes, but you’re also stupid and naive and clumsy. And that’s completely alright. That doesn’t make you any less deserving of anything, it just makes you human.”

And as he tugs you into a kiss, you realize he’s right. It doesn’t matter what you know. Life is still uncertain, anyway, and the probabilities of most things are far less than 1. All you know is that whatever happens, you’ll be loved in the process.

#🕸️ SPIDERHANzZz !!!#stray kids x reader #yang jeongin x reader #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #yang jeongin #i.n #i.n skz #i.n stray kids #i.n x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfiction

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tellmeallaboutit · 7 months ago

Text

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 5, In Which You Turn Out To be Capable of More Than You Thought

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Part 2)

AO3

You had the sweetest dreams.

You lived in a beautiful mansion in a world where capitalism had fallen (which did not prevent you from living in a mansion), you no longer had to work (well, because capitalism had obviously fallen) and, most importantly, you became Raphael's one and only dark consort (you were not sure how capitalism fit into this narrative), whom he cherished and loved more than anyone, even more than the Crown above his horns.

Perched atop Raphael’s lap in the throne room, surrounded by a crowd of souls kneeling before you and begging for your mercy (including your high school bully Thomas, who once locked you up in the bathroom, and the ex who cheated on you), you suddenly heard the distinct ringtone of a Teams call. It's a sound that could never be mistaken for anything else; it could be used as a method of torture.

You made a mental note to suggest this to Raphael later on.

The call seemed downright disrespectful to your new status as the Archduchess of all Hells, so you ignored it; surprisingly, it did not stop. Thinking about how you would ask Raphael to execute whoever disturbed your bliss, you stretched out your hand to swipe the huge green button that was being projected right across the throne hall.

"Anya?" The voice on the other end was familiar, but you couldn't place it.

Your mind struggled to come to life and make sense of your surroundings.

Why were you lying naked?

What time was it?

Why did your whole body ache?

And why was there a wet patch beneath you?

To answer at least the last question, you reached down to touch the moisture between your legs, and saw thick white liquid coating your fingers in the soft morning light. You went for a sniff: smelt like a freshly burned match and salty musk.

Oh, fuck.

Okay, so Raphael wasn't big on safe sex (which probably should have been expected from someone who lived in the House of Hope). Not that you remembered asking him for protection. Not that you were able to or wanted to. The thought of him coming inside you seemed insanely hot yesterday; but now, in the clear light of day, it just seemed insane.

Don’t human women all die horribly giving birth to half-devils?

The voice on the phone called out again, "Anya, are you still there? Are you okay?"

“Yes?”, you responded hesitantly and pulled your fingers away from your nostrils.

"You're fifteen meetings late for our meeting," the voice reminded you, and you finally remembered who it belonged to.

Your supervisor. Not a bad guy, not a good guy, just a burnt out middle-aged man who never imagined himself stuck in middle management while going through a messy divorce.

"We had a meeting?" You asked, even though somewhere deep down in your foggy brain you knew very well that you did have one scheduled.

You sat down on the bed and did you best to suppress a moan: your arse was bruised raw.

“Your development talk, Anya”, your supervisor sighed. “Did you… did you just wake up? It’s fifteen past ten.”

Quick, think of a believable excuse. Your cat died? No, he knows you don't have one. Your grandmother passed? No, that would be disrespectful to her memory. You were robbed? No, then you wouldn't be sleeping so soundly...

"No, I...I didn't," you stammered, desperately trying to come up with something, anything.

"Do you want to turn your camera on?" He asked. "It helps during these talks."

No, you didn't want to turn on your camera unless you wanted to make absolutely sure he saw you stark naked - which was definitely not going to work in your favour (or maybe it would, but you didn't want to test it). You shifted on the bed (your bed made a very obvious, very loud creaking noise) and your supervisor cleared his throat.

“I am not feeling too well, sorry”, you said. “I’d rather not”.

That wasn't entirely false - between the sore arse and what felt like bite marks on various parts of your body and what the hell was that purple bruise on your thigh?

There was silence before he spoke again, "Well then...I guess we're halfway done here. Did you hear about the news?"

“The news?”, you echoed.

"You haven't checked our company website?"

Does anyone actually bother to check those?

"Mmm-hmm," You responded noncommittally.

"Okay," your supervisor sighed. "We've been acquired, and as a result, there will be some changes and layoffs."

"Oh," was all you could manage to say.

"I'm currently making a list of potential layoffs."

"Oh," you repeated, starting to understand where this conversation was going.

"Anya," he began, his tone more serious now. "I don't want to sound harsh, I have enjoyed working with you. As a friendly suggestion: it might look better on your resume if it appeared that leaving was your own decision."

Hell no, you won’t let the corpo screw you over.

“Hey, no, I want a severance package. I’ve been working for this company for three years”.

"Sure," he responded. "You are fully entitled to it. But first, we'll have to review your work activity. You know, what you did on your work computer, which websites you visited, how often you were active."

Maybe you’ll let the corpo screw you over.

“Never mind,” you surrendered. “I’ll come by today to pick up my stuff.”

“I am glad we could find a mutually beneficial decision”, your supervisor said, wished you a nice day, dropped off the call, and left you naked and pissed off.

As you got up, you felt something dripping down your legs. Wonderful, washing Raphael’s cum off the carpet sounded like the perfect start to your morning. You used your blanket to clean yourself (it would be easier to wash later) and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

On your way there, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but let out an exasperated laugh. The make-up from yesterday was still smeared on your face in dark trails, making you look like a freshly fired and thoroughly fucked racoon.

Sighing, you stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash away Raphael's seed, sweat and the remnants of yesterday's make-up. Oh, you thought as you washed it all away: maybe you should have brought some of Raphael's DNA to study in the lab. Then you would have a solid proof. They also might have found a way to breed powerful cambion super-soldiers.

Anya, why do you always have to think such bullshit? Raphael is from Dungeons & Dragons, not Warhammer.

Your bruises ached even worse under the hot water.

“You know, Raphael”, you spoke to yourself as you wrapped yourself in a towel. “I start to think there might be some issues with our relationship”.

Your phone chimed with a message.

"good morning my lovely girl," it read, instantly piquing your interest.

Oh, wow. Okay, you guys might have some issues, but he is certainly kind of sweet. You were about to pick up your phone to type something as sweet back (good morning my favorite devil?), when another notification popped up.

“Did you know your Raul is one of the richest people in the country??”

Ah, damn. Your mum seemed to be in an excellent mood - why was that?

Probably because “Raul” made it to some mightiest and greatest list.

“I hope the date went well please call love mama god bless 🙏🥰”

As soon as you got yourself dried up, you were scanning the corporate website (last time you checked it when you prepared for an interview); the acquisition news was on the front page. You hastily scanned through the article.

“…was yesterday acquired by Avernus Capital AG, Zürich. The legal aspects of the transaction were handled by the Managing Partner Raul d'Avergni…”

By whom?

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Raphael! So you can remember to get me fired but a condom slips your mind? Does he even know what those are? Has he ever needed to use one?

Ah, now you understand why he hadn’t called for the whole three days. He was working hard on fucking up your life. Screw reigning over the nine hells as the Archdevil Supreme when there's a girl who spent six months after graduation hunting this job (damn this economy) to torment.

Yes, you hated your job, but it paid the bills. Your emergency fund would cover one month expenses, tops. Raphael gave you a thousand over Twitch, that was nice, but that won’t last long either. If you buy plan B and visit a gyno, that’s one hundred less, easy. You can’t ask your mother for any help, either - she could barely make ends meet as it is.

Fine. Breathe in, breathe out. Perhaps he got you fired to offer you a better job; wasn't that what he mentioned yesterday? That’s right. Your work for me is not yet done, he said. That’s it; he has another job and needs all of your free time.

You grabbed your phone to call him to confirm; and then you realized you still did not have his number, all the times he called you (which was exactly one) it was from a no caller ID.

So much for that plan. Fine, the other way, then. You fired up BG3, the save from his Sharess Caress room.

The sight of his avatar and the inviting huge bed behind him stirred a pang of longing in you. "Hey, I miss you," you murmured to the screen, "Could you call me, please?"

“Give me the Crown that dominates the elder brain”, Raphael answered, not a line off the scripted talk.

“I already did that and now you are here. What’s the next task?”.

“A crown for a hammer, a deal of a lifetime”, Raphael ignored you and carried on with his talk with Tav.

The devil didn't toss you any curveballs, no ad-libbed lines or cheeky glances that shattered the fourth wall; just the same old scripted scenarios you'd already seen and played through. You jumped between saves, but nada. Your mum called you three or four times in the meanwhile. You shot her a short message that everything was okay (everything wasn’t), and you’ll call her later.

Next, you scrolled through the missed discord notifications, filled with images and screen caps of Raphael and other Tavs, hundreds of other Tavs, elves, tieflings, humans, a wide gallery of his bloody harem (especially the modded Durges got under your skin) from the new romance scene Larian dropped. You were very tempted to tell them all about your night with Raphael and how it was the best sex you've ever had and on an unrelated note, do all women really die if they give birth to cambions?

But then again, you’ve been called crazy enough lately. Better to delete the whole app.

Who has time to chat in discord? Definitely not people with full-time jobs.

…Right.

In the afternoon, you decide to go to your office in the center of the city to pick up the few things they still had and hand in the things you still had . Company badge, laptop, chargers; three years' work fit into a cardboard box. Your last pay cheque will arrive on Friday, they said.

Thank you for your hard work and dedication, and for making us a euro while we give you a cent and go get lost. Interviewing for them took a whole day; leaving them took half an hour.

The office was half empty; the few who were there were preparing to celebrate the grand occasion of being taken over by Avernus Capital (wouldn’t have happened without you, by the way, and you doubted that the new owner would be that nice). You mumbled a few hellos and how do you dos, but you realised (not that you ever thought otherwise) how little you cared for these people, and how little they cared for you.

The only one you really wanted to talk to you couldn't be reached.

Wait, but Raphael's office was only two underground stations away, you thought. If you can't call, maybe you can pay him a visit and congratulate him in person on his great acquisition.

Raphael's office, a multi-storey eighteenth-century building with the golden letters D'Avergni & Partners plastered all over it, looked very unwelcoming from the outside; inside it had all the warmth of a mausoleum. Dark grey walls loomed around you, somewhere between an art gallery and a prison cell. Art Deco furniture with sharp angles filled the space as floor-to-ceiling windows let in cold shards of light. You were stopped dead at the reception desk.

The receptionist's lips curved into a polite smile as you approached.

She actually seemed nice, not the snotty bombshell type usual at such kinds of places; she had a tired smile and dark bags under her make-up.

"I would like to see Raul d'Avergni," you said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

She looked at you as if you had entered a church and asked for a personal audience with God. Doubt gnawed at your resolve, but retreating now would be even more awkward.

Some young men, sipping coffee from their plastic cups next to an espresso robot, looked at you curiously through their thick-rimmed glasses.

"Good morning!" chirped the receptionist, regaining her composure. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Ugh, no..." you replied, trying to sound confident. “I'm his (what, what, what?)… his girlfriend, actually”.

Brilliant.

She arched her eyebrows slightly, looking at your "Astarion approves" badge on your rucksack, which had seen quite a bit of action in its life (the summer festivals!), then at your "nique la police" T-shirt. Yes, you didn't give much thought to what you were wearing, but then again, you weren't planning to visit Raphael when you came here.

The receptionist did her best to remain professional, but you could sense that she was very doubtful about your statement.

"I am afraid Mr. d'Avergni is in meetings all day today," she offered with an apologetic smile. "Perhaps you could try calling him if it is a private matter?"

Yeah, great idea. Your cheeks flushed as embarrassment washed over you. Of course his girlfriend would have his number.

"You do have his private number, don't you?" she continued, her smile unwavering.

Now you felt like a complete idiot. The girl was obviously too tired to make fun of you, but the stares and whispered giggles of the posh idiots behind your back were not nice.

“Sure I do," you blurted out. "Just still couldn't reach him for some reason and it’s pretty urgent. Anyway, just let Raul know I stopped by. My name is Anya. Anya Berger."

"Of course," she replied in that 'not-a-chance' tone. "Have a nice day, Mrs Berger."

You retreated with your dignity in tatters and headed for the exit. What on earth possessed you to come here? You could have just as easily gone to the Microsoft headquarters and said you brought Bill Gates some home-made pancakes, and by the way, where was he?

Fuck.

As you made your way out, you heard the young man with framed glasses murmur to his coworker, "Such bullshit." You couldn't help but eavesdrop. "I've seen the birds Raul brings to the parties and they are top-notch. Not some..."

You stopped in your tracks. Normally, you were not the scandalous type (you were a people pleaser, if anything), but if the world wanted to treat you like a doormat, you would at least bark back.

“Not some what?”, you asked before he would finish the sentence.

"Oh, my apologies, miss. I wasn't talking to you. It was just a conversation with my colleague," he responded with a saccharine smile. All these guys sported slicked-back hairdos, boxy glasses and Patagonia vests. Your socks had more personality than these fucks.

“You were talking about me, you Patrick Bateman knock-off. So, what did you want to say?”

His faux-polite smile vanished in an instant.

"Wow, okay”, the guy sneered. “What did I want to say? In a completely unrelated conversation, I wanted to say that giving a drunk blowjob on a Tuesday night doesn't make someone anyone's girlfriend."

“You know what he will do with you if I ask him to?”, you said, your fists clenched.

You did realise how much of a cunt you sounded, but Raphael burned a guy’s mouth for calling him a two pump chump; surely he can burn this guy for being a jerk to you, too.

There should be some benefit in being Devil’s special little mouse, right?

The guy just scoffed at your threat, small drops of coffee landing on your face. His coworker looked embarrassed and quickly looked away.

"Oh, I don't know," the guy retorted, "Why don't you call Mr. d'Avergni and ask him to fire me? Oh wait… do you really have his number?"

You couldn't come up with a clever response, so your anger gave you a bad one.

“I hope a damn bus runs you over”, you grumbled under your breath.

For a split second, you found yourself hoping that very scenario would unfold. That some rogue city bus would burst through the wall and flatten him. Once wasn’t enough; it’d reverse and do it again for good measure.

Alas, no such luck.

The security at the door started to pay attention, but you didn't want to cause any more of a scene.

You chose to rise above (not that you had any choice) and strutted away.

"Mr. d’Avergni is not going to call you back, nut job," the guy called after you. "He's way out of your league."

Your fingers clenched around the straps of your rucksack, knuckles white as you retreated.

The moment you left the posh building behind, you felt terrible. In an attempt to make yourself feel a little better, you grabbed a subway sandwich with some extra ham and a sugar bomb coffee from Starbucks, but it did nothing to improve your mood. You found a spot on the steps of the library and sat down to eat and brood everything over.

Let's look at the cold, hard facts. You lost your job, that's one thing. You might be pregnant with a devil's spawn that'll tear you apart on its way out, that's two. You've only saved enough money to get by, that's three. And on top of that, some yuppie jerk ridiculed you.

That's four. On the plus side... on the plus side...

Well, you had the best sex of your life last night (by a large, large margin). Just thinking about that orgasm made you dizzy. And that kiss. His lips. His hazel eyes. The way Raphael looked in a waistcoat with a cigar. The way he looked at you.

…yeah.

You stared into the distance, catching the outline of a Catholic cathedral out of the corner of your eye. A thought occurred to you then; Raphael had been so irked by your cross. Going to an actual church will probably make Raphael jealous of the other Big Guy with the magical powers (even though he hadn’t demonstrated them for at least some centuries) that he might actually come out and talk to you.

You wolfed down the rest of the sandwich and got up.

The cathedral door, huge, twice your size, seemed to be closed. In the old days, you would have just walked away; it was clear you weren't welcome. But now, with all the rules and logic thrown out the window, you pushed against it and, lo and behold, it did open for you.

At first glance, the cathedral seemed devoid of life. There is something utterly captivating about an empty cathedral, as there is about all things that are not supposed to be empty. It was a beautiful church; no doubt about that. Obscenely rich, too, gold gilded altars and towering stained glass windows that painted kaleidoscopic patterns on cold marble floors. Marble statues of angels stood sentinel along the walls. Why do they always have these judgemental looks on their faces? Sinner, sinner, sinner.

I am; so fuck off.

Far richer than any church should be, and yet the first humble wooden box that caught your eye was "DONATIONS WELCOME".

As you navigated towards the altar (a good half-minute journey across the vast nave), you discovered you weren't alone after all; an elderly pastor dozed in his throne-like chair and a choirboy leafed through sheet music by the monstrous organ pipes.

"Lord Almighty," the pastor creaked as he looked at you. "How did you get in?"

"The door?" you said, gesturing behind you.

He blinked twice.

"I was sure I had locked it. Oh, my memory. Getting old is no fun, child, I can tell you that."

The pastor was one of the types desperately trying to pass themselves off as your friend.

"Should I go or..." you asked, not really wanting to go anywhere.

The moment you stepped through the door of the church, you felt like you were crossing worlds again; the mundane real world was behind the door, and the world where interesting things happened was right there.

"Or no... Please stay," said the priest. "If you're here, it must be God's will. We don't turn anyone away. It's not like we've had many newcomers lately."

That might have something to do with being kid fiddlers, you thought, looking at the choirboy in the white and red outfit - fourteen, fifteen at the most - but you said nothing and came closer.

"And what brings you to the house of God, my child?" The priest's smile was warm and inviting. "Would you like to make a confession?"

No, no, absolutely not.

“Or, no”, you chuckled nervously. “No, Father, I wanted…”

(to piss off the devil by coming to the church)

“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”

The choir boy looked up in interest.

“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”

The choir boy looked up in interest.

"The devils?" the pastor asked incredulously, rubbing the dust off his glasses. "There is but one; you probably mean demons. What about them?"

"Just, ugh... Say, I am haunted by one. Ah, no, you are haunted by ghosts; possessed, then. What would be the procedure?"

You didn't really know what you were asking for. You didn't really believe that there was a step-by-step guide to getting rid of a devil in your bed, especially if you invited him, especially if you liked him very much.

The priest put his hand on his belly and laughed, the old wheezing laugh of a man with a heart condition. God, it smelt like incense in here; such a suffocating smell, as if it was meant to dull any common sense.

"My child," he said, putting a fatherly hand on your shoulder. "The Church may have its doctrines, but the idea of demons is simply a metaphor. A representation of our transgressions, our weaknesses."

He laughed a little more and then told you very gently, carefully, as if you were mentally deficient:

"Demons are not real. They are metaphors, allegories".

Having heard all your life that the Devil is watching, the Devil is waiting, and now all of sudden he is not real, and you were pretty sure he had fucked you raw yesterday.

Very helpful, Father. You suddenly felt an urge to bring forth the Antichrist just to spite the entire Catholic Church.

The cathedral door groaned in protest as it swung open once more. You looked over your shoulder.

The man entering the cathedral was the last person who should be treading on consecrated ground.

"Then who the hell is that, Father?" you muttered under your breath.

"Oh, my dear friend!" replied the priest with the broadest of smiles. "What a joy to see you!”

Raphael's attire was nearly identical to the first time you saw him in the cafe: a three-piece suit with a subtle shift in color, now a deep navy. A bit of a dated look of a wheeler and dealer in smoke-filled rooms; something very much “Mad Men” about him.

"Darling, you claimed not to be religious," Raphael smiled at you as he approached and gave you a light kiss on the cheek. "But look where I find you."

"Well, you're also the last person I would expect to see in a church," you replied.

"Why is that?” The priest asked. “This man has done more for the Church than any other, my dear child!"

They embraced, the priest and the businessman, like good old friends. Well, you always knew that the Church was in cahoots with the Devil, but not so literally. You shook your head at the hypocrisy of the Church, Raphael, and the way things were done in general.

"You exaggerate, Flavio," said Raphael. "Besides, it's my pleasure and duty to contribute to my community. I assume you've already met, but let me introduce you anyway - Anya, my paramour".

Raphael gestured to you. Better tell your colleagues that, you thought, since they doubted it so much. He should also find this guy in the glasses, introduce you to him and then fire him immediately (and have him run over by a bus while he was on his way to collect his things). In fact, that was now your main requirement for staying his little mouse.

"Blessed be, I'm ecstatic for you both," the priest gushed, barely containing his excitement. "Praise the Lord that you are finally doing better, Raul. It's about time..."

Raphael gave him a very cold smile and interrupted with a slight raise of his hand.

“Dimmi, hai preparato i documenti che ti ho chiesto? Il fisco sta facendo dellle indagini”.

"Haha!” the priest laughed. “La tua ragazza è venuta a chiedermi dei diavoli, forse avrei dovuto indicarle l'ufficio delle imposte".

Their conversation dove into rapid Italian, leaving you in the dust. It was rude but precisely their intention. Your attention wandered from them and across the hauntingly beautiful church interior, finally resting on the choir boy standing in the shadows.

He looked very pale. The poor guy was scared, scared shitless. His lips moved soundlessly; words stuck in his throat like swallowed stones. Tracing his petrified stare, your own eyes landed on the towering wall of the church.

The shadow Raphael was casting was not human; wings unfurled from its back and double horns crowned its head. It looked both eerie and beautiful in the soft candlelight. A part of you admired it for its artistic potential; this could be inspiration for some haunting fanart.

Wait a second.

“Do you see it too?” You mouthed silently to the choir boy who nodded frantically, sweat on his forehead.

A surge of relief washed over you - finally someone else shared your madness. But before you could reach out to him, he darted away into the ink-black abyss of the back room. Raphael's touch on your hand halted any thought of following him.

“Ah, pay him no heed,” dismissed the priest nonchalantly. “The boy’s mind is somewhat...disturbed.” He quickly clarified with an awkward laugh: “Not that we judge here – all are welcome under God's roof.”

Even the Devil himself, it seemed.

Your gaze returned to Raphael and then flickered towards the pastor; he either couldn't see or chose to ignore the monstrous shadow of his parishioner.

Or perhaps, he did see it and was merely delighted to meet his true master.

"Take all the time you need, Flavio," Raphael said, his hand dismissive as he sent the pastor scurrying. "We're in no rush."

The priest melted into the shadows of a side corridor, leaving you alone with the Devil in God's house. If Raphael nudged you back just a fraction more, your body would be flush against the cold stone altar.

You found the idea very intriguing.

"Our little escapade last night was quite... memorable, wouldn't you agree?" His fingertips traced a path along your cheekbone. "Did you come here seeking salvation from your sins?"

"Sins? No," you replied coyly. "There are other things that trouble me... Like how I lost my job because of you."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “And how exactly did I manage such a feat?"

"Well, my company was acquired by yours and I was restructured away."

A slight frown creased his brow as he considered this. "So, you were employed by Tenebris? That is an unfortunate twist of fate." He paused before continuing, "Did you enjoy working for them?"

"Not particularly," you admitted, "but it paid my bills and kept me fed."

He smiled, his touch lingering on your skin. "And what price tag did they put on keeping you pliant?"

"Two thousand two hundred euros net”.

And sixty euros. Plus a free travel pass and a discount at a gym you never went to. Plus a yearly bonus!

This revelation seemed to snap him out of his trance-like admiration of you.

"A month?" His tone held an edge of horror and for once, it felt good to see him rattled.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. His gaze was filled with genuine sympathy. It wasn't such a terrible salary - it was above the country's average after all!

"I see," he murmured. "This explains your living situation. My dear Anya, don't let anyone under-value you; your time is worth far more than that. As for your current predicament - and I confess to having contributed to it - I will make amends."

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain leather wallet. You couldn't resist taking a look yourself; there was a government ID card, a driver's licence and several other cards you couldn't identify. He pulled out a sleek black credit card and handed it over.

"I'll let my banker know you're authorized," he said. “He will contact you with regards to security details”.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," you quickly interjected, pride sparking in your chest. "I can fend for myself."

"Don’t you ever say no to me," Raphael warned with a playful edge to his voice as he pulled you closer into his arms. "It won't end well."

His jesting tone didn't quite mask the threat in his words, but you couldn't help but grin. Whatever he says, the very way he says it is just so nice.

"I'd rather have a job," you said, not sure if you were actually that eager to get back into the corporate grind.

"Then I shall arrange one for you," he grinned. "A prestigious position under a very demanding superior. It will keep you very, very occupied."

You were pretty sure that position was not what you went to college for. Then again, didn't he say yesterday that he had a job for you?

"Consider it limitless," Raphael added nonchalantly while your fingers traced the cool metal of the credit card. "If you manage to find its limit, consider me thoroughly impressed."

Did he want you to splash out on new clothes and the like? But there were more pressing matters at hand. Your mum had just cleared her towering credit card debt and was in need of some expensive dental work. The local cat shelter was on the brink of closure and rent was due.

"I actually wanted to help my mum out a bit, if that's okay, she's, ugh"... you started, rolling the credit card in your hands.

"Anya," Raphael interrupted sternly. "You shall have whatever you wish for.”

You nodded and looked into his eyes, remembering the pleasure of lying under him yesterday and how much you wanted to do so again.

"About last night," you said. "Should I take the morning-after pill..."

Raphael shook his head in disbelief.

"You Catholic girls... No need for that considering our activities last night, but even if there was...I've always envisioned having a family but never found the right woman."

It's such a stupid cliché, you thought, as your stomach fluttered and you let him lean in for a kiss.

But maybe. Just maybe. Maybe he really meant it. He had such a horrible life in hell. Maybe you were the first one…

…the actual first one, the one…

Right . You still don't want to die in childbirth, however flattering Raphael’s words might be. If you pay for Plan B with his credit card, will he see it? Nah, better use your own.

"...right," you murmured against his mouth, then remembered what else was bothering you. "And could you please tell your colleagues that we are together?".

Were you even together, you wondered in sudden fear, but Raphael nodded:

"I'll make it very much known, if that's what you wish for."

Your heart pounded in agreement. The more people knew, the more tangible it felt.

As Raphael's lips melted against yours, you glanced at his shadow on the wall and smiled; he must have thought you were looking at the confessional, for apparently the horned outline of his own shadow was not bizarre to him.

"Would you like to confess? I could absolve you of all sins" Raphael whispered in your ear, his hand slowly but surely tracing the full curve of your arse, still sore from his tail-whipping. "I am afraid you have to commit them first, though”.

He gave it a light squeeze and you yelped; he seemed to revel in the sound.

"We're in the sacred house," you blushed, squirming under his very bold advances and enjoying them very much.

"Indeed we are," Raphael concurred, his hands yanking you into the shadowy Catholic confessional, shoving you in first. The image of him cloaked in his holy robes flashed in your mind and a giggle bubbled up at the sheer audacity of it all. “What better place for blasphemy?”

The cabin was barely big enough for the two of you, dimly lit and very narrow; meant for one person only, the other chamber remained empty, separated only by a small window. The smell of old wood and incense filled your nostrils as he closed the door behind you.

The last time you went to confession, you were a teenager and the priest was so old and ugly that no dirty thoughts crossed your mind; but now you suddenly realised that there was no hotter place on earth.

Raphael's lips brushed your earlobe, his stubble against your cheek, "Kneel before me," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Show me how remorseful you are for cavorting with the Devil."

You weren’t sorry.

Not one bit.

Without hesitation or second thoughts, just like you had before the chair yesterday, you sank to your knees in front of him. Something told you that this will become a familiar position for you in the days to come.

The moment your face was against his groin, Raphael undid his pants. His cock sprang out, large, reddish and throbbing; even better than you had imagined. You couldn't help but wrap your hands around it, almost in disbelief that this thing was so real and so eager for your mouth. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you licked it off, savouring the salty and musky taste.

Raphael gasped above you, his body tense with pure lust. Your thighs clench together in excitement and you feel the soaked panties stick to your pussy as you feel him guide your head towards his cock.

“Repent, you little sinner”, Raphael muttered, his voice thick with lust. "Plead for your redemption."

Judging by his state, he should be the one pleading.

You teased him with slow, deliberate licks, the tip of your tongue tracing his frenulum up and down (he loved it). You nuzzled your cheek against his rigid shaft, a purr of satisfaction escaping your lips as you lavished it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Each vein was a roadmap for you to follow, every inch of his cock kissed and licked with a fervour that bordered on reverence.

"Enough," he said. "I want to see the depth of your remorse".

Your tongue slid over the top of his head and your lips followed, parting as you slowly took him into your mouth. Raphael moaned and you echoed him, your voice pulsing against his shaft, the church walls echoing the unholy litany. You sucked his cock greedily, desperately, drawing him into a warm, needy vacuum, and the harder you tried, the wetter you became.

You wanted to give Raphael the blowjob of his millennium; you gave everything to serve him, saliva slicking down his shaft, down your chin, down your t-shirt, as every muscle in your mouth worked hard for his pleasure. The world around blurred into nothingness; all you could focus on was the dark thatch of hair framing his groin and the rhythmic motion of his cock sliding in and out of you.

No one ever wanted to suck him off as much as you did, as deep and sloppy and messy as you did. You liked the scent of him, the taste of him, the feeling of him, the sound of him; everything about him; you’d love to suck him dry.

“Keep going”, Raphael let out a moan of such desperate pleasure it could be pain. "Dare to stop and I promise you'll taste hellfire."

As if you had any intention of stopping; this was an act of worship you could perform for eternity.

You glanced up; he was sweated, chestnut locks clinging to his forehead, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across his face, and you felt more powerful than ever in your life. He tugged his necktie loose and opened the collar, his breathing coming out harsh and shallow. He was at your mercy; at the mercy of your tongue and throat.

Raphael bucked his hips, desperate to thrust in your mouth, and you let him take control; let him grab and hold your head while you simply hang in his grip, pliant and passive, as his cock jerked in and out. He went at it with such ferocity as if he hadn’t fucked for months; which you very well knew not to be true.

Gag reflex kicked in, your body threatening to revolt, and you repressed it with all the will you had, tears gathering in your eyes, and with each move of his hips it became more and more challenging. Thankfully, his bucking became more desperate; your mouth clamped down harder around his cock, and you let your tongue run up and down his shaft.

You felt hot jets of liquid gush against your throat as Raphael cried out, his body shivered and he leaned forward as he came, and you felt stupid happy. A larger bit of his cum dribbled straight down your throat, the rest pooled in your mouth around his cock.

“Swallow”, Raphael said, his voice deeper, rougher now. "Take all of me."

He was not going to pull out, not until every drop of him was inside you, so you made two very deliberate gulps, rolling the slight bitterness of his release on your tongue before you swallowed it all down.

Then you looked up at him like a starving animal - hungry for more. Your fingers carefully gathered the stray droplets of his cum and you greedily licked them off. As a final gesture, you kissed the tip of his cock, to which he cursed under his breath; something in Italian; whichever it was, it sounded hot.

You grinned, licking your lips, so proud of yourself.

"You are divine," Raphael said as he pulled you up by your hair, pressing you hard against the confessional wall before claiming your lips in a rough kiss – tasting himself on them. "Divine. You are a treasure. I cannot believe my own luck. I cannot believe…”

In that moment, if he had told you he loved you, you would have believed him without hesitation.These very words were on the tip of your tongue but you chose to channel it all into the kiss.

The priest's footsteps echoed through the church, amplified by the silence.

"Li ho presi," he happily announced.

Raphael hastily adjusted his clothing, looking genuinely embarrassed for a brief moment. The two of you stumbled out of the confessional, not exactly gracefully.

From the pastor's expression, you could tell he understood what had happened between you and Raphael in the confessional. Your faces were flushed and your hair was disheveled from his hands tugging and pulling on it. Your damp chin, which you hastily wiped with your sleeve, only made things more obvious.

“...Raul," Flavio chided with a tone heavy with disapproval. "I still hope to wed you in this very church, but you're making it exceedingly difficult."

His eyes didn’t even glance at you; apparently, any attempt at salvation or reprimand was wasted on you now.

"I donate millions to this church,” Raphael retorted dismissively, dusting off imaginary lint from his shoulders. "If you want others to overlook certain things, you should be prepared to do the same."

The Father raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he handed over some documents to Raphael.

With that, the audience was over.

The angel statues glared down at you with undisguised contempt; particularly the one clutching a sword. That’s exactly why people turn to devils, you judgemental winged pricks on high horses, you thought. You rolled the aftertaste of devil's cum on your tongue and thought that going to heaven was definitely not in your near future.

Exiting the church, you were met by two armed men standing guard at the doors. For a moment, you thought you were being apprehended for lewd conduct in public. Raphael's security, you realized.. Of course he had security. Both looked like dark, looming, emotionless twin shadows. What were they really? Cambions? Orthons? Surely no one could truly harm him?

You clutched closer to Raphael, his lips brushing your forehead as he attended another phone call.

“Mamma mia,” he blurted out mere moments after he picked up, and a chuckle escaped you at how stereotypically Italian he sounded. You hadn't realized that was an actual phrase they used. His furrowed brows and concerned tone quickly sobered up the mood though, "What happened? Where? Was it on Main Street?"

He looked genuinely troubled and you offered silent comfort by intertwining your fingers with his. He responded with a reassuring squeeze.

“One of my juniors got into a...”, he told you as soon as he had hung up. “Into some macabre road accident”.

Hit by a bus, you realized with a jolt but kept your silence.

You had to witness it yourself.

Without a word, you followed Raphael to the crash scene, the wailing sirens of fire trucks and ambulances echoing in your ears. Security trailed along behind, all of you making your way through the gathering crowd.

The sight that greeted you was both mundane and horrifying, in a way that only real life could be. The bus stood askew, its once deep blue body now painted with crimson streaks. And there, on the cold pavement, was...splattered…what was left of a person.

"I don't know what happened," an older Asian man sobbed nearby, his words falling on deaf ears. "I swear I've been driving this thing for twenty years, I swear I was not drunk..."

The policewoman stood tall and stern above him, her arms crossed in a way that made it clear she had already formed her judgement. Some other kind soul actually offered him an anti-shock blanket. Some less kind souls were taking pictures of their phones. News reports were arriving, too.

This poor man probably had a family to support. What would happen to him now?

You could handle all the exaggerated violence and gore on television, but you absolutely could not watch the man sprawled out on the pavement in real life; or at least what was left of him. It reminded you of the cherry pudding from the evening before. You could see his broken glasses scattered haphazardly on the ground and tears welled up in your eyes.

He was a jerk, sure, but he was also mortal, like you. Now he lay dead, wrapped in plastic sheets, and it could have easily been you.

Where was he now? Did Raphael claim his soul?

Did you cause his death?

You didn't mean for it to happen. Well, maybe you did, but...

“Don’t look, piccola,” Raphael murmured in your ear, his hand shielding your eyes. “You fainted over a cherry pudding once; this is by far worse. Damn it! My youngest and most promising. Just twenty-seven years old and newly engaged. An absolute tragedy.”

The same age as you.

"I'm sorry... he was so rude to me," you choked out between sobs. "I didn't think..."

“Anya, please, it's none of your fault,” Raphael’s voice softened. “Just the cruelty of fate; an accident. We cannot be held responsible for such misfortunes”.

“No?”, you asked with a faint hope.

You were not a bad person, even if you were fucking the devil; in fact, you were going to splurge his credit card on all the animal shelters and children battling cancer to make up for what you had just did. You were not a bad person.

You were not a murderer, no, no, no.

“No,” he repeated and then a slight smile, completely inappropriate to the moment, touched his lips. “Except when very much are responsible; unless we made it happen.”

Raphael’s words made you flinch slightly but he maintained his hold on you.

Yeah, well, you did that, you wanted to say, I did nothing, I only wished for it.

“The driver must have been under the influence,” he continued . “I cannot conceive any other reason for running over a pedestrian at a red light.”

You breathed out. The air was thick with the smell of gasoline, burned rubber and the scent of blood; metallic smell of death.

“Oh, you look rattled, poor thing, look at those tears”, he cooed and offered you a handkerchief with his initials on it. “Anya, love, my apologies, but I have to attend to this immediately. There’s going to be press, rumors that we work people to death that’s why he was not looking around. I need to be there for my company”.

For the company?

“…And for his family, of course”, Raphael added as if reading your thoughts. “That’s his fiance over there, I suppose. Oh, take her away, you morons…”

There she was, the woman in a suit, wailing like a banshee, as somebody tried to hold her close and hug her. What she had seen just now she would never, ever forget.

Raphael held both your shoulders and rotated you to face him.

“You.. you know what? Go shopping, distract yourself a bit. Then call my driver to take you to my place. We'll spend the evening together”.

His words were met with a hollow nod from your side. You cast another side glance at the accident, and he gently turned your face towards him again.

"And learn when to look away," Raphael murmured, punctuating his advice with a soft kiss on your lips, "It's an essential survival skill."

#bg3 raphael #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #fanfic #raphael x tav #raphael x player #raphael x reader #meta #knock knock

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animentality · 1 month ago

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Tbh I think it's still legit if you read and like Blue Lock for being so gay (at least subtextually), despite being misogynistic Kaneshiro seems to have sympathy for queer people to a certain degree. Besides the gay sidekick, As The Gods Will also has some other queer side characters (a lesbian, a trans girl, a few more hinted gay boys and a non-binary villain according to my memory) even though not all of them are well-written, the good ones are good. Specifically my most favorite is the gay sidekick Ushimitsu, he's actually a pretty well-rounded character with very strong role as a co-lead in ATGW 2, I never feel like he was disrespected in the story (rather I think he's obviously Kaneshiro's favorite), sure he's got an open ending that can be seen as tragic but it's actually in line of the whole theme of the story and I respect Kaneshiro to commit to writing it rather than just give a copout happy ending and it also proves his gay feelings as real & deep despite heartbreaking.

Now I wish Kaneshiro can have that same energy in writing Bachira as he's in a similar position to Ushimitsu in ATGW but somehow poor bee boy got pushed aside in bllk after U20 arc (probably in favor of more popular Isagi ship with Rin or Kaiser 🙃), I hope he makes good on the promise that Bachira will be a key character later in the series and this time since nobody will die in Bllk I hope Bachisagi will get a deserved happy ending.

well that's the thing, anon.

I feel bad for liking blue lock because it has such a misogynistic creator but it's hard not to cling to something so obviously queer friendly.

like honestly.

there's definitely Japanese media that's queer neutral or queer friendly but blue lock actually feels like it's always on the verge of just being properly queer.

it's not fanservice like free or yuri on ice. it legitimately feels as close to canon as it can get without changing genres. and I think the creator having queer characters in the past gives him some street cred.

i know what homophobia in a manga looks like. it's that awful rapist character from one punch man. this hyper masculine but also hyper feminine muscly man who sexually assaults other men.

it's tokyo ghoul having its only queer characters being pedophiles, rapists, and sex addicts/victims who get sexually assaulted until they're "corrected."

it's having no subtext at all and only ever using gay men as a one off joke and gay women as a fetish.

at least blue lock does seem to respect its characters enough that it takes their hinted at sexualities seriously.

it really doesn't go for the obvious "ewwwwww we're both guys" jokes. it's kept very ambiguous. it's subtle (except when it's not, lol).

the only character who really fits the usual offensive gay anime representation tropes is Shidou, but even him I wouldn't count as bad rep (as the closest to canonically gay character, aside from Bachira).

Shidou might be super flamboyant but he also gets to have the coolest fucking moments in the series. he's not just some pervert, he's a badass. he doesn't just flounder around like some useless weird loser who only exists to be the butt of a joke.

he loves to fight and play soccer and feel alive. he has the coolest aura in the series and everyone is constantly in awe of the ridiculous things he can do.

he's a proper villain, who's out of pocket and insane, but who's also intensely lovable and silly. and honestly portrayed pretty sympathetically. for all his faults, he can be very kind.

there's a lot of depth to him, and honestly, I think Blue Lock is pretty good at not doing anything to suggest oh hahaha homosexuality exists. isn't that funny

plus I think Bachira is canonically gay. we know he's canonically in love with Isagi.

kunigami and aiku are actually confirmed bisexual too.

Shidou and Sae were also highly suspect during u20, to the point where even homophobes cant deny they have something weird going on.

so to me... that's a lot of queer characters who are taken seriously and actually have characters outside of being a joke or a gag. they feel like real people. they have distinct personalities.

the bar is in hell, but it's more than most manga/anime manage.

so I have to give Kaneshiro credit. he's doing as much as he can, without overstepping the boundary I'm sure kodansha has set for him.

it's just a shame he's a sexist. also, I hope Kaneshiro grows a pair.

just have bachisagi get married in the last chapter you pussy.

let Shidou officiate!!!

#blue lock #shidou ryusei #bachira meguru #isabachi #bachisagi

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heartsouls · 1 year ago

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no plz tell me all your thoughts about the gregory hate so I can reblog it💀

OHHH boy this is gonna be a long one buckle up

Ever since Gregory was first announced I believe most of the fandom have interpreted him as this frail child who was always on the verge of tears and needed G.Freddy’s protection (think C.C 2.0), but once the game came out most ppl were shocked to see this kid actually has a lot of bite to him and kicked ass (ppl’s first reactions to him destroying the animatronics still make me laugh).

This was MY first introduction to him, so I wasn’t completely taken aback but still pleasantly surprised. Most if not all his actions made sense or at least made sense for a 10yr boy to think/act. Giant robots coming after me with the intention to kill (and insulting me for no damn reason)? Yeah I’d probably add an extra kick in there for good measure. Then came the first repair scene, when Vanessa revealed the high possibility of Gregory being an homeless orphan everything just clicked into place for me.

OF COURSE that’s why Gregory was so aggressive, he had to learn how to fight on his own to survive he’d probably had to face even worse than this! He wasn’t going to let that all go to waste bc some weird murderous rabbit lady wanted to drag him into her plans. It explains why he brushed off G.Freddy’s worries about him bc he’s used to have to just keep moving and bare thru pain, especially in an environment where that’s really the ONLY thing you can do. It’s why he’s so blunt and can come off as rude bc he was most likely never taught how to behave “correctly” bc really who has the time?

He was just using all the knowledge he learned on how to survive from a cruel and harsh environment for another. But this time he has an ally for once, an adult (father) figure who actually cares about his wellbeing, it’s no wonder why he became so attached (but struggles to show it bc he’s not used to it). And through all that easily irritable aggression, there are moments to remind us he’s still a kid.

A useless fridge magnet? Yeah that is pretty lame man.

Now imagine my shock when I see others hating on him and calling him a villain. “How could he KILL the poor animatronics? He was so mean, he’s the true monster!” Wh- DID WE WATCH THE SAME GAME? You mean the same animatronics that says he doesn’t have anyone to care about him? Yeah real sweethearts they are. Gregory isn’t a damn monster, he’s a survivor! He’s doing what he only knows best, IT’S TO SURVIVE!

“How could he be so mean to G.Freddy??? Those are his friends! He made Freddy feel bad!” Trust me when I say that Gregory cares about G.Freddy ALOT, did you see his reactions whenever G.Freddy got hurt??? That’s his father thank you very much!

“How could he have killed Vanny in that one ending?! He’s the real villain!” …Do I even need to explain this one?

And ohhhhhh don’t get me started on the awful “bratty gremlin devil” Gregory HCs. Now this isn’t to say that Gregory can’t be a gremlin or whatever. He can be, he is a bit cheeky, but then some started to intensify it and made it his entire personality. No, Gregory wasn’t just itching to rip Roxy’s eyes out or do the next batshit insane thing, he noticed the other upgrades and put two and two together (It gets more weird and slightly disrespectful when they add in the homeless thing as if that automatically makes someone act “feral”….tiktok.)

And then we have the complete opposite where some portray him as what I mentioned in the first paragraph. The poor helpless child who cant handle anything by himself…even though that’s complete bullshit (he’s also usually portrayed to be obnoxiously sweet for some reason). I don’t think many ppl realize how often were not in G.Freddy during SB, and Gregory is described to be quick on his feet and wits (plus his tools) and he doing damn well by himself! [Obviously this isnt to say that he didnt need G.Freddy’s help and protection, ofc he did, he just didnt need to RELY on it like some ppl make it seem he did].

(I know we went a bit off-topic for the last two paragraphs, trust me it connects)

All of this comes down to simply that some just can’t accept the fact that Gregory isn’t their perfect victim. He doesn’t crumble to the floor and beg for G.Freddy to help him up like they want him too. He’s not shy and sheepishly asking for help like they think he’s supposed to. And when they realize that part they try to push him into the other far end where he’s crazy, cold, and cruel. But he’s not. He cares, and he cares deeply. He’s still a little boy, he cried and tried to cover his face when he saw Vanny die. He should be leaping in victory, he killed his killer after all right? But he didn’t, bc despite everything she was still a human being, and he was so scared.

He has complex trauma (duh), he’s not this way or that way, and I get it. It’s hard to write or draw that kind of trauma for Gregory, especially when SB didn’t really give us much. But the way ppl act as if that’s what he actually is is soooooo frustrating. In my opinion the fact that his trauma is so complex and the fact he’s not your typical written victim is what makes him so interesting! And I feel like a lot ppl were slowly getting around to it…

Until GGY and Ruin happened and the hate came back so much worse, Welcome to the real Freddy Hell.

#THIS DOESNT EVEN COVER GGY AND RUIN #but i feel like covering what happened when SB came out gives the gist #bc lets be real #the hate that came from those two other parts #all tie back to SB #and go over the same points i made #if you really want me to make a post like this for GGY and Ruin.. i can certainly try #AND BEFORE ANYONE SAYS THAT THE HATE WAS ONLY BAD BC I MENTIONED TIKTOK #it wasnt just them it was also TUMBLR and TWITTER #so we have variety here #I made a posts similar to this before #i’ll take screenshots and add them to the post if find them again #anyways yea #you could say im a gregory fan…#fnaf sb #fnaf ruin #fnaf gregory

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wcters · 3 months ago

Text

𝗣𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦

pairing: nate fick x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k+

summary: you and nate hated not being able to act like a couple sometimes, but you never broke the rules . . . at least you tried not to

warnings: established relationship, angst, weapons, swearing, sexual innuendos, some outdated wording, war, war language, wounds, blood, violence, etc | this is based on the fictional characters from the series generation kill, not the actual war veterans. this is no way intended to hurt or disrespect the veterans

You knew what you were signing up for when you joined the marines: stress, rough work, misogyny, mostly men, and passing moments.

You had met Nate Fick when you were a teenager. You had met in high school through mutual friends and you had clicked. Soon enough he got the courage to ask you out and it's been the same ever since. You'd been through everything together. You'd graduated together, you moved with him to Dartmouth College, and signed up for the marines together. Seemed fit that you were stationed together.

You felt good knowing you were fighting for a good cause, but you never thought it would be this hard. Yes, you see and work with him everyday, but you don't get to kiss him, hug him - even hold his hand. Sometimes, when you both managed to sneak away, you'd get some time to catch up and act like a couple, but after that it's back to coworkers. You hated that, but you never broke the rules.

The sound of the Humvee's engine lulled you into a sense of calm. It never really was calm, but it did feel nice being in the one place you recognized. Ray was rambling about something stupid while Brad looked like he was just about ready to shoot him. Trombley was with the gun, probably tired of Ray's rambling too, and the reporter was asleep beside you.

"How much ripped fuel have you ingested?" Brad's voice broke you from your trance. You snorted, "too much. He's going to be shorting out pills." Ray laughed, lack of sleep clear, "I'm on it like a motherfucker Brad! At this point, I think my whole stomach is those fucking pills!" You looked to Evan and rolled your eyes. "No more of that shit." Brad told Ray. "Yeah, you'll overdose. Even though that would be great, we need a driver."

Ray started ranting again while you got into the least neck-breaking position you could and tired to fall asleep. You had gotten used to his insane rambles and it lulled you to sleep.

When you finally work up, the sun was out and you were still in the vehicle. "Y/n, you're finally awake after 50 fucking hours." Brad said as he saw you sit up. "Damn, I thought you were dead. I wanted to put Rudy in your place so I could see his beautiful gay face every time I looked back there instead of your hideous one." Ray added, looking at you through the mirror.

“Hideous? Wow Ray, that's a big word. I didn't know you knew words like that, let alone speak anything other than the simplest terms out there." Before he could rebuttal, Brad was on the radio. "Hitman Two, this is Two One. Do you want my victor to provide overwatch on the northeast corner of the M.S.R?" "Roger that. This is Hitman Two. All Hitman Victors align of Two One." Nate's voice was heard through the radio and you smiled when you heard it.

“We're not done this conversation you bitch." Ray pointed at your reflection. You just posted back.

Your Humvee pulled into the group of cars and it stopped. You opened the door and got out, stretching your arms and legs as you did so. You had seen Nate when you passed by so you made it your mission to find him. Right when you got close, you heard the sound of tires on cement. You turned your head towards the sound and saw two white trucks coming towards you.

“Sir, I observe men with A.K.S. They're in the lead vehicle." Rudy explained as you leaned down with your gun out. "Hitman, this is Hitman Two. We have two victors with armed Iraqis approaching. How copy?" Nate spoke into the radio. "Hitman, solid copy." "Hitman, I am seeing armed Iraqis in civilian clothes in white pickups marked with red diamonds."

“We should smoke 'em, sir!" Someone called out from behind you. You did a slight chuckle. Only a marine would be this desperate. "Hitman Two, this is Hitman. Interrogative. Can you . . . Can you wave them off? Over." A voice replied back. You looked to Rudy in front of you and raised your eyebrow. He did the same. "Hitman, this is Two. These are armed Iraqis in marked Victors with weapons pointed at us. Over." Nate was persistent with what he was saying and probably thought the same thing as you and everyone else did.

“R.O.E. States uniformed soldiers only, and they should be firing at us." This time, you turned back around to look at Nate and made eye contact with him. "This is Two. I'm requesting to at least snatch one victor, find out who these guys are. Over." "Negative. Wave 'em off." "Hitman out."

A couple of voices rang out saying things like "this sucks!" and "what the fuck?" until it was silenced with the sound of A.K going off. You stayed still while the marines shot at them while they drove off, and didn't realize anything was wrong until there was a hand on your shoulder. "You okay, y/n? You haven't moved." Right when you turned to face Nate you felt the pain in your side and groaned. You dropped your gun on the ground and instinctively put your hand to you side, then pulled it off. Red.

Nate must've realized this too as he caught you before you fell backwards. He sat down and pulled your head into his lap, his hand going to where your bullet hole was. "Corpsman! Shit, shit, shit. Corpsman!" You moaned in pain as he hand pressed harder and his yelling caused a headache. "I know honey, I know it hurts." You mumbled out a Nate as you started getting delirious. He slapped you cheek lightly to keep you awake. When your vision was clear for a couple seconds, you saw Doc Bryan.

“Hey y/n. You doing okay?" He asked as he grabbed a bandage from his bag. "Great." You joked with slurred speech. That was the last thing you said before you passed out. While you were out, Nate was worried. Probably the most anxious he had been in his entire life, but he managed to compose himself and lead his group. He watched as you were taken away in a stretcher to the Doc's Humvee.

Nate didn't see or hear from you again for a week or two, which felt like forever. He hated not knowing how you were. Doc Bryan had assured him that you would be fine, that it wasn't too bad, but Nate being your boyfriend worried no matter what the man said.

He was sitting and talking to Brad while the mail had finally arrived. He didn't really expect anything, and was surprised when one was dropped on his lap. He picked it up and noticed the handwriting on the front. It was yours.

"Y/n?" Brad asked him. "Yeah. At least I think so. That's her handwriting." Nate replied. Brad patted him on the back and got up. "Well, if you right her back let her know we miss her. And that we need her back to get Ray to shut the fuck up." Nate laughed at that and began to open the letter.

"Dear Nathan,

It's me. I think you would've figured that out from the handwriting on the front. Sorry I couldn't write you sooner, I've been in the hospital and haven't been able to get stamps. I'm doing good. It hurts, but doesn't hurt more than being away from your stupid face.

As much as I hate to say it, I miss Ray's stupid rambling about how pussy would solve the war and Brad's hate for country music. Hope they're doing well, and hope Brad can get Ray to shut the fuck up.

I also hate to say I miss out passing moments. They kept me sane out there. They were what I was waiting for everyday. I miss your touch, your smell, your face.

I've been wearing your shirts to bed. They still smell like you, without sweat and dirt. It feels weird being home, especially without you. I've been keeping up with the news and it's sounding like it'll end in the next couple months. I don't think I'll be able to come back. I'll keep writing you though, and when you get internet, maybe send you something else.

Don't let your hair out too long, and don't get shot. Who else is going to keep those stupid fucknuts in line.

Love you,

Y/n.”

He smiled and closed the letter, shoving it in his pocket. God he couldn't wait to see you, in real life, or in a picture that he would make good use of.

#emma writes #generation kill #hbo war #hbowar #generation kill hbo #nate fick #brad colbert #ray person #x reader #x fem!reader #imagine #hbo #hbo war imagine #fanfic #nate fick x reader #generation kill x reader #literally love this show

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jacenotjason · 5 months ago

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OK this will be an extremely long ask i am sorry. i love radford

i havent sent an ask to people in years but i am one of the radford fans of all time and demonic possession is a fun concept to me, so the idea of gadreel possessing him specifically makes me INSANE

i just think itd work extremely well. radford doesnt take anything seriously and doesnt understand boundaries, but he always puts his concern for others first and his well-being last. he annoys father gregor and compares him to priests hes seen in the movies, and he does spray holy water + offer free candy against kevins wishes, but he also warns rick about the trouble he could get himself into when not giving the right movie tickets, and helps kevin with his job with no pay in mind. hes annoying, but his heart is in the right place

but gadreel is the Ultimate Prankster. him trying to imitate radford would backfire Hard, because gadreels idea of fun is,, More Extreme. he allows kids to enter adult films, he steals candy and says its fine since hes friends with kevin, he tells his friends and brother to break the rules and disrespect authority, etc etc. im unsure what gadreels motives are other than to ruin everyones day, but hes doing a damn good job at it. all the blame is going to radford, and honestly, its just So Easy to blame him for it

i imagine it takes a while for most people to figure out that somethings wrong with radford. he does what he wants freely, wherever and whenever, so these mistakes could be rationalized by him having an off-day. i assume rad would look extremely tired after a days long session of gadreel torturing him (because he loves pushing the human body. bill cipher behavior). but i think what makes everyone truly concerned is when "radford" starts involving Others in his antics

it isnt like rad to encourage bad behavior. he would never tell rick to swap the prices of two items at his new job, or tell robert the best blind spots to steal from stores, or forcing kevin to take his anger out on someones property. the radford everyone knows is ditzy, but kindhearted. if theres trouble, radford would be the only perpetrator

and god, imagine how much worse it gets if "radford" gets in trouble with the police. john would be frustrated seeing his own nephew be so careless and cruel all of a sudden. itd probably even make him spiral and assume the cult had something to do with it, and that john and his family arent safe like he thought. and i think gadreel relishes in that knowledge

im also so curious as to how gadreel and radford met and how long the possession lasted, maybe it was a week? in my head, he came to radford in the form of a snake before revealing his true self and attacking, leaving no time for rad to fully process it and run away. i also assume skid and pump will have some involvement, and pumps eyes turning blue will be a clear sign that "radford" is associated with a demonic entity, or Is one. either way i love gadreels character being a "twisted" version of radfords if that makes sense

so um ya sorry for the longest ask ever. heres a drawing

OPOOOHMYGOHMOSIEJHIOSRHGIUSADHRUITGHSDUIGSDB !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE AWESOME!??!?!?!?!? FUCK OK OKAYAKOAJTYAOKATY THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS SO COOL

THANK YOU FOR THE DRAWING, EATING IT, YOUR POINTS ARE ALL CORRECT

Unlike Moloch whose possessions are more brutal and obvious, Gadreel hides and youre so right! Hes here for the long haul babey!!

yes i imagine the possession lasted about a week, week and a half. Gadreel can't feel pain (at least Radfords pain i mean, he has a higher pain tolerance, as a demon yknow) so he could very well accidentally snap a bone as Radford and not even notice. What im saying is Rad is hospitalized afterwards

AUGHHH the police thing. Gadreel sees the cops and WANTS to get caught by them, just for goofs. in a "Oh what would happen if i did this :)" way.

GOD THIS IS SO COOL YOURE LITERALLY THE BEST

OH!! AND ON THE SUBJECT OF HOW RAD AND GADREEL MET !!

Instead of possessing Patty in the morgue, Gadreel took the form of a snake and.... left lmao. or got noticed and thrown out bc oh my god a snake

he ended up near the candyclub and radford was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gadreel saw Radford as a hiding place and a means to have fun.

I imagine Moloch doesnt care about what his vessels look like, meanwhile Gadreel won't possess someone if he thinks theyre lame. like yeah he couldve possessed patty but then he would've had to.... do stuff. eugh. This guy looked WAY more fun.

im actually vibrating yourel iterally the coolest dawg.

#RAMBLES FROM THE DEPTHS OF MY SOUL.#saving #spooky month #radford spooky month #spooky month radford #gadreel spooky month #spooky month gadreel

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jujitto · 1 year ago

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▬▬ [ 𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗭 ] MTL HOW MUCH I WANT TO FIGHT THEM!

𝖺𝗍𝗓 ⭒ ۪ ׂ ۪ genre ۪ ׂ 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄 ⭒ ۪ ׂ ۪ cw ۪ ׂ 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗇 ⭒ ۪ ׂ ۪ wc ۪ ׂ 𝟢.𝟪𝗄 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌

MOST

SAN : He’s been bias-wrecking me a little too much for my liking. STAY IN YOUR LANE, CHOI SAN! Honestly, he can catch these hands but I'm kind of scared because he kind of feisty not gonna lie. Don't pretend y'all don't see the way he is ready to fight Wooyoung! 😭 And I know y'all seen the he kicked that guy in the bouncy music video. Probably pull out some karate//taekwondo moves on my ass. I still think I would win. Not fairly tho. My ass will be cheating. 🤷🏽‍♀️ ALL I GOT TO SAY IS HE BETTER DUCK BECAUSE I'M THROWING STUFF!

WOOYOUNG : I only put him second, because I feel like it would be fun to fight with him for some absolute reason. THIS BITCH PULLS HAIR, I CAN JUST TELL! OK, but I feel like play-fighting would eventually turn into actual fighting. Not going to lie I feel like he would win this fight because he’s crazy. You and I both know this motherfucker is crazy. WHY CAN I SEE HIM TRY TO SNEAK ME?!? 😭 If it doesn't become actually fighting, I feel like he would honestly somehow make me actually fight him. BRUH WHY CAN I SEE HIM BITING? WOOYOUNG IS INSANE. One bite and I’m swinging. And if he wins best believe I’m coming back for round 2 because I am not losing to him.

HONGJOONG : My bias. To be honest, I just wanna fight him just to be fighting him. I honestly wanna see who is going to win. Another feisty bitch. OK BUT WE WOULD PROBABLY FIGHT OVER THE FACT I BIAS MORE PEOPLE THAN JUST HIM. Why can I honestly see this though?! I kind of get the vibe of him saying if he wins I have to drop everyone else for him. Honestly I would try my hardest to beat him up because bitch the groups I stan are the groups I stan for a reason. I can see him getting his evil ass kids to help, especially Wooyoung. SEE THIS IS NOT WHAT WE FINNA DO. In regards to who would win the fight….no clue.

YEOSANG : HONESTLY WOULD FIGHT JUST BECAUSE HE’S TOO FUCKING PRETTY. How dare he be so pretty? It’s not fair. Probably would feel bad if I beat him up because he didn’t deserve it but at the same time he did, because why is he so pretty?! No one should be this pretty?!?? I CAN SEE HIM FIGHTING BACK THO?! I feel like he would curse me! I DONT KNOW WHY BUT I JUST GET THOSE VIBES FROM HIM! Sorry not sorry!

SEONGHWA : ANOTHER PERSON I WOULD FIGHT BECAUSE WHY IS HE SO PRETTY?! But I would honestly feel so bad after it because he stays getting disrespected by those members of him (he know who he is!) The only one member I would probably feel bad for fighting because he didn’t deserve it but he did deserve it if you know what I’m saying because no one should be that pretty and I mean no one!

MINGI : OK I LIED ANOTHER PERSON I WOULD FIGHT AND THEN FEEL EXTREMELY BAD ABOUT FIGHTING. just seems like a really good person until I just feel like fighting him. Would it be necessary? No but I would still fight him just for the fun of it. But then I would feel bad because. OK, BUT MINGI LOOKS LIKE HE CAN FIGHT BUT ACTUALLY CAN'T! TELL ME I’M NOT WRONG! Honestly, I can see myself winning this fight, but then at the same time, I see myself going to apologize to him after fighting him. Because he honestly doesn’t deserve to be fought.

YUNHO : NOW YOU AND BOTH KNOW THE REASON WHY YUNHO IS ONE OF THE PEOPLE I WOULD LEAST LIKELY FIGHT! Because he’s so damn tall. Why you gotta be so tall for?! If I fought him, all he would have to do is back hand me and I would be across the room. It’s kind of like that dog meme with that guy who asks his dog if he wants the ball and he throws it across the room and the dog goes flying after it that’s how I will be. Legit. SO HELL NO I’M NOT FIGHTING THIS TALL LANKY MF! HELL NO! YUNHO IS A NO-NO! 😂

JONGHO : ANOTHER PERSON I WOULD NOT FIGHT! I’m not fighting him because he can break apples in half, so what makes me think I can fight him!? If he can break an apple so easy what makes you think he can’t break me in half! I would literally be so scared for my life! Do you not see how ready he is whenever his Hyungs are doing something annoying?!? HE CAN FIGHT I CAN JUST TELL! YOU AND I BOTH KNOW HE CAN! 😭 So fighting him is a risk I’m not willing to take because I’m not ready to be sent to an early grave just yet OK…..OK!

LEAST

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michelleelizabethtanner · 4 months ago

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When do you think Rio realized he was scared of losing Beth? & How do you think those feelings changed over the four seasons?

Hi Anon! TY for the ask. Sorry for sitting on it a bit.

It’s such an interesting ask. Because I think that the outcome of season 4 could be interpreted in a lot of different ways. Although, okay… that sad moment with the bourbon and his glistening little eyes as he leaned on the bar, and then told his bartender to pour it out. Or the “you think you’d have her?” moment. It certainly implies that he’s pining pretty hard, and is almost mourning the loss of her before she’s even really gone. Season 4 really tried to play into our little shipper hearts. So okay. While it can be interpreted in many different ways, (including a lot of his sadness being attributed to Nick’s betrayal rather than the loss of Beth), I’m in a romantic mood so I’m choosing to believe that it was all about Beth.

I don’t think he was afraid to lose her in the first two seasons. He was even gonna let her go. Several times! She was the one who kept bringing him back. At least in his own warped mind. The search function doesn’t work for me anymore so I can’t find my old posts, but he was going to let her go after he tested her with the truck. She forced him back by getting him arrested. Then he was gonna let her go in 2.04. She forced him back by giving his money to her loser husband and falling back into the basic bitch lifestyle instead of making something of herself. I think he genuinely believed he would let her go both those times. And that him staying was justified by her disrespect.

Season 3 gets interesting because he holds on to her as a form of punishment for them both. For her for all her sins, and for himself for being unable to handle her appropriately despite them. I think this is when he really realizes how compulsive this entanglement has gotten for him. He doesn’t understand the reasons, but he hates it. And he hates himself. A man like him, who prides himself on discipline and personal ethics, not being able to adhere to his own personal code…. Shameful! It’s probably why he killed Lucy the way he did. He wanted to hurt Beth, to prove to himself he could be hard, prove to her he didn’t care. Except he did care and he didn’t feel better after. He felt worse. Her tears hurt. Her pain hurt. His own persistent caring about her despite hating her huuuurt. And he knew he was fucked. He could never let her go now.

So season 4 he leaned into it. He pursued her like an equal. Made her his banker. “He trusts you.” Showed her his humanity. Reminded her who they once were to each other, despite the denial. And still she betrayed him. “I just thought that things were different now.” “You just didn’t choose me.” Idk if he was afraid of losing her. I think it maybe was that he was afraid of never actually having her and never getting over her. Never getting over his weakness. Through the whole season he continues the push and pull. Pull her in, then fuck with her again. Be vulnerable with her, then shut down again. He’s never able to allow himself to just let her choose him. He’s constantly sabotaging it despite wanting her validation and attention so badly. Because he never believed he would actually have her. Not in a way that wasn’t against her will. Not in a way she would ever admit to herself.

It took Nick getting sooo close to successfully manipulating her for Rio to decide to drop the pretense. I think one thing that always bothered Rio about Beth is her unwillingness to get out from under a man. (Not himself, of course. Haha! Because Rio is a giver. He wants to see his princess happy and grateful to him.) But like she wouldn’t leave Dean despite Rio giving her a locker full of cash. How she refused to allow Dean to take the fall for her despite it being the answer that made the most sense. How she jumped straight to doing what Nick said. I think it drove Rio insane that he kept having to watch it. (Despite the fact that it was a self-inflected torture. He’s such a masochist lmao.) It probably felt a lot like disrespect of all he’d done for her. So he changed his tactic. Instead of being an antagonist in her life, he became her open champion. To show her he was capable of seeing her in a way the rest of them don’t. Of supporting her independence in a way no one else ever had. Idk if it was even to specifically keep her. Because he never actually had her. It was to set a truce. To give her what she was looking for so he could stop torturing himself with her. Releasing her. And in doing that he left her room to actually organically choose him. I just wish we would have gotten to see her do it. 🥲

#asks #headcanon #brio analysis #good girls nbc

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elwolfen · 8 months ago

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Alfred Molinathon Day 2:

The Steal (1995)

Cliff Williams

His Role: I didn't expect much going in. Hell, I have never heard of this movie till I watched this for the marathon. A sculptor and clean freak roped into a hi-tech robbery with the messiest American woman to exist and it's a romance!? Excuse me? I love it. I was not expecting a romance, I just knew it was a comedy!

He was hilarious to watch in this unraveling series of events. Him playing this Tony Brummel character and Kim, as his fiance? I love her aggressive, fake New York accent and her playing dumb. Every time no one was looking, he'd just quietly snap at her. To which I was mimic but with more aggressive growling because I thought it was funny to me.

Kim being tech savvy and Cliff being a luddite (being opposed to new tech) is interesting. She'll go on about the intricacies of what she can or can't do with her laptop and him just trying to grasp any of the words she's saying. But then the reverse happens when it comes to his building planner expertise, and she gets feel the ame as hedie with her hacking. Very nice touch, simple and effective.

Every time she'd make a mess and he just stare in disbelief of her disrespect, I really felt that (even though I can also be quite messy). Her being like, hey, I made you coffee and he finds the milk and stuff spilled all around the cup of coffee was insane. I swear she had to do that on purpose!

Kidnapping Childwell was certainly a chore for the two, first getting the man in the first place! Cliff putting on a fake beard over his beard was an interesting choice, and it constantly falling off when waiting for Lord Childwell to get ready was making me squirm with anticipation of the fact he might get caught, always trying to fix while quickly switching back to his stoic and stone-faced persona as the driver. I'd probably keep questioning my eyes or sanity if I was the Lord. And the drive while Kim tries to start the gas to knock him out, my God! What was the issue? Have Cliff help you! Instead, it kept spiraling out of control till the point she just shoves the little hose into the man's mouth and held his nose. Goodness, savage. After getting him to Mrs. Fawkes and taking the poodle pictures, Cliff is constantly threatening to cut off his ears and be like: I'm not being serious, calm down, you should have Stockholm by now. And yet he gives him a coat because he's worried he'll be chilly when they drop him in the middle of nowhere... he's giving this man whiplash! Probably Kim too. To be honest, I'd be the same.

I realized when watching this that wet suits? Kind of sexy, at least on those two~

Kim pretending to be French while Childwell shows up to the house and also starts speaking French, what does she do? She just outright drops it and says she's screwing with him. Just so random and hopefully it was believable for the moment. This movie has the calmest and most quaint car chase ever between the two duos (Kim & Cliff/Childwell & Wilmot). Not super tense or funny, it was just weirdly low stakes. But after that's all said and down, the inflatable boat going off in the car and the other duo driving into the water, we get Cliff getting reasonably upset and wanting to back out but BAM! A kiss from Kim! Then straight to the sewer.

The whole sewer scene. If I had a nickle for every time there was a sewer scene on 1995 movie with Alfred Molina in it, I'd have two. Which isn't a lot but- yes I know he wasn't in the sewer in Species. Anyways, it's a great long scene building the tension, and he's so damn impatient, I understand why. Being heard and someone slowly coming down to their little hideaway and the water quickly rising? Add in the fact that it was his fault they heard him, but it was whoever put that thing he accidentally kicked down the later when having a leg cramp. Kim just waiting and waiting, almost like a gambling addict waiting for a big win. Which, oh boy do they. After they finally leave and have to dive and swim underwater, I was actually worried Kim just outright drowned when Cliff couldn't find her, I would've been devastated. But thankfully she doesn't, I needed the two just caressing each other's face in the water, thank you.

The robbery was successful and they live on a beach, a nice call back to the beginning, where she saw Cliff's very interesting sculpture. At first, it looks like a cobblestone walkway (on the wall), but if you slide the two pieces apart, there's a beach underneath. She says that she likes the beach, he explains that it's metaphoric and also he doesn't like the beach. Yet, here they are together at the end. Finally, he can just retire and follow his interests instead of being a planner for the town council, all with Kim. It just ends right after.

Overall, I enjoyed Cliff and Kim's antics and blossoming romance very much. And of course him getting angry or frustrated never get old

~~~

The Rest of the Movie: I went through most of the plot on the above section. But we have Jeremiah, the man who instigates the whole thing. At first I thought from the description it would just be for money, but no, it's to steal from a corrupt bank chairman for cheating the people of Golanda and give it back to them. A more noble act than I expected. But after appearances, he disappears halfway through the movie, which I didn't mind. But the end he tells Childwell and Wilmot what's going on and I didn't exactly know why but it all went well in the end. 28 million was sent to the people of Golanda to help heal the damage that banker cost them.

~~~

Childwell and Wilmot were an unexpected turn into the story, I really liked their shenanigans with trying to figure out what kind of car he was transported in during the kidnapping (a Morris Minor or a Moggie as some call it). He has perfect memory of his surroundings; the feeling, sounds and the not very helpful clues in the pocket of the coat that Cliff gave him. Wilmot thinking it's all political got a chuckle from me.

Wilmot himself is quite interesting, having fall out of favor after some sort of exposure of his "parties" yet many people seeing him and knowing his style of living are quite friendly towards him. I love that everyone keeps asking if this whole search and the fact they keep seeing Childwell in his trousers (helps the process, really) and Wilmot simply says: of sorts~

~~~

The comedy itself is hit or miss, got a real taste in the beginning when Kim was in America. They tried with physical humor and such, but the cuts, pacing and delivery were very hindered. But I do believe it got better later on.

It's a nice quick watch, so if you have the time, I suggest checking it out if you like these type of heist movies.

#Alfred Molinathon #Alfred Molina #The Steal 1995 #Cliff Williams

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pillowfriends · 8 months ago

Text

my thoughts on the WoT characters after book 5

before I start posting Lord of Chaos thoughts, I wanted to sum up what I think of the characters after The Fires of Heaven (and New Spring) so I can look back on it later. I’m sure I’m missing some, just listing everyone I have thoughts on.

Alanna: I have my eye on her after those sus forced bonding comments… time will tell but I don’t trust her at all. I like her though, she’s fun.

Asmodean: he was funny as hell, what a pathetic guy, and had objectively the most hilarious death in the series so far.

Aviendha: this is probably the character I have the least complicated feelings about. I just like her. she’s funny, she’s badass, her relationship with Rand is great.

Birgitte: a hot bicon. every word that comes out of her mouth is gold. she’s such a bro.

Egeanin: standout side character to me I love her so much. yes girl unlearn your cultural biases! and be unhinged and horny on main!! she better come back!!

Egwene: girl I want to like you but you're making it so hard 😭 as a character she's great. as a person I'm struggling with her dumbassery and her superiority complex and the way she's treating Nynaeve.

Elaida: she’s cringe and bad at her job but I kind of stan. she’s doing her best and it is absolutely not good enough and she’s being puppeted by the Black Ajah and only succeeded at deposing Siuan because a bunch of teenage boys stabbed people for her. I can’t even be angry at her tbh.

Elayne: book 5 was so great for Elayne. she's maturing a lot and she really shot up the list for me. her interpersonal relationships are so funny and I love how excited she is about making ter'angreal.

Faile: maybe absence makes the heart grow fonder but I miss her and want her back. she was so silly but also loved Perrin so much and I’m such a hopeless romantic that I loved the sappy parts.

Gareth Bryne: this man is a CREEP!! Siuan get AWAY from him! ugh ugh ugh. and I know it’s only going to get worse.

Galad: unfortunately this man is one of my favorite character archetypes. I didn’t vibe with him at first but now I really do.

Gawyn: I want to put him in a paper shredder. I am so angry at this man even after a full book to cool down post-coup. please let me deck him. I do think my feelings will change but right now I’m still angry as shit.

Graendal: problematic queen. do I think RJ will do anything interesting with her, probably not, but am I intrigued, yes.

Lan: THIS MAN BREAKS MY HEART DAILY. ohhhhh my god. not normal about him.

Lanfear: hmmm complicated feelings about book Lanfear. I found her introduction painful and annoying - it’s way too obvious - but she improved and I do love how crazy she is. it didn’t really sink in for me until her conversation with Rand in Tear that she’s delusional and obsessed with LTT to the point of being completely out of touch with reality, and therefore v scary. TLDR I love her now. RIP gone too soon.

Leane: I have no idea what’s cooking with her, I just have to RAFO. I’m either going to think she’s an icon or get angry at RJ for being sexist and I don’t know which.

Liandrin: the balls on this woman are actually insane, trying to Compel Moggy. she’s way too cartoonishly evil to be really interesting though. but she makes so many sexually charged dog references which I love tbh.

Logain: he’s fine I guess. hard to tell where his story is heading and he kind of hasn’t done anything.

Loial: he has never done anything wrong in his entire life, he's perfect and I love him.

Mat: I've come around and I like him now. his memory stuff is really interesting and so is the way he interacts with fate/the Pattern.

Melaine: best Wise One I love her so much.

Min: she’s never clicked with me as a character and I think her motivation is kind of dumb and repetitive. I also really dislike how salty and disrespectful she is towards Siuan but that has to do with my personal issues about the Siuan plotline so I can’t totally blame her for that.

Moghedien: I NEED to put her in a petri dish and poke her with a stick. girl you are not subtle about your petplay kink. somehow she’s scary and pathetic at the same time and I just love her a lot.

Moiraine: I can’t even put it into words. she’s my everything.

Morgase: I feel so fucking bad for her, her POVs were horrific, what a survivor. I'm excited for when she gets a bigger plotline.

Nynaeve: my favorite character who’s on page at present. first of all she has a Forsaken collared. second of all she’s so angry and I love angry women. also she has no self awareness which makes her POVs very amusing, but also sometimes devastating — I love her struggling with fear and her perceived cowardice in TFOH.

Perrin: I constantly forget he exists. not in a bad way but not really in a good way either - he’s just bland to me.

Rand: he is my idiot baby boy. go insane faster please it’s interesting.

Rahvin: good riddance you creepy fuck. not even awful in a compelling way to me, just awful. good as a character, well-written, but AAAA.

Siuan: her arc after being stilled is distressing to me and I don’t like reading it - her loss of power and influence, the way the other Aes Sedai all treat her, the sexual harassment… so I have a hard time separating that out from Siuan herself. I’m… torn. I love some of her scenes and some feel very out of left field. we’ll RAFO again.

Suroth: GIVE ME MORE. her POV was fascinating and she’s so awful.

Thom: against my best wishes, I actually like him now. he’s so dad coded and protective of Nynaeve and Elayne, and a badass, and has a good sense of humor.

Verin: what an icon!! favorite Aes Sedai bar none now that Moiraine is gone.

[inevitably there will be a part 2 when I realize I forgot some really obvious people]

#wheel of time #eve reads wot

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summertimemusician · 1 year ago

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Linktober Shadow Day 5

Master Kohga

*slams this down* LATE AND WITH ONE HECK OF A HEADACHE BUT I MADE IT!

Also I feel like we also need to talk about that the reason the Yiga are such doofuses usually is because they're riding the high of a full 100 years victory, and that after getting throughly kicked in the ribs they're probably gonna commit more crimes and probably return to their even more brutal roots actually, Kogah probably being the most likely one to shift to that first.

This goes out to you Warriors fans and simps, because ooh boy is he a delight to write, I think the duality of his name and status as a soldier is neat even if he's not my favorite Link.

Though the regular Linktober one will have to wait after I'm a bit more rested though so either later today or tomorrow, sorry folks.

Also uh warnings ahead?

TW:

Some descriptions of violence, specifically wrist targeted violence, kidnapping, and Reader going a little feral in defense of Warriors, nothing too big, but as this is coming from a horror fan I advise anyone who is squeamish to skip this one.

On a scale of one to ten of intimidation wrought by enemies of the Chain has faced, you’re pretty sure Kohga and the Yiga wouldn’t make even a negative ten on a normal day.

You’re not sure if it’s due to Wild’s most blase attitude about having a literal clan of traitorous, murderous Sheikah at him, a mix of bafflingly phlegmatic and elated with amused delight when talking about schemes you’d more associate to slapstick comedy than anything, the way you’ve seen any Yiga members dive for any throw bananas like a starving Wolfos pack on a lone Stalfos even if there was a cliff right in front of them with even more single minded determination than what was given to their mission, the way he’d refer to them as “Look they’re technically insane menaces to polite society out for mine and Flora’s blood, but they’re our technically insane menaces to polite society out for our blood” with a mix of bemusement and amusement or a mix of all three but according to the resident cook they truly weren’t a threat compared to, say, the cultists of Hyrule’s time whose sole goal wasn’t even to kill him but simply make him bleed, or Majora whom indirectly inflicted endless torture on Time, or Demise who literally started the cycle all of your heroes inevitably went through (because you could never blame Sky, none of you would even if it took shaking the notion into his thick skull). And they’ve apparently gone even more docile and to ground after Wild had defeated their master.

“And THEN he apparently has the nerve to go through our base and raid our banana supply! The nerve of that pesky, insistently annoying pest- Hey, are you even listening?” The sudden call made you jump, hissing as your wrist restraints dug into your skin, because apparently shackles with spikes on the inside of them are a thing and you very much would not have liked the approximate feeling of barbed wire wedged into your skin, biting into your flesh with all the viciousness and brutality that ensured you wouldn’t move your hands without feeling agony, the tone indignant as the presumably dead man stomped his foot nearby, “This is serious! First he peels me and my clan members like a banana, greatly exaggerates the rumor of my death and then THIS?!”

You school your features, trying really, really hard not to act out again as it comes down dangerously close onto Warrior’s unconscious head. Nodding along with the seriousness and solemnity worthy of a funeral, “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Such disrespect, at least you guys didn’t exaggerate about his death. And you’re supposed to be the bad guys here?”

(Well, more like you couldn’t move, really, funny thing about spikes on one’s skin and having one of your legs broken to the point glancing at exposed bone makes you want to dry heave at the gory sight, it.is.agony. Funny, how pain is an effective restraint in keeping people pinned down better than any arrow.)

You quickly revised your opinion and reassess the threat given the situation you're in now, as after your patrol on Wild’s Hyrule with Warriors you’d gotten ambushed and kidnapped through a mix of a double Silver Lynel ambush and sheer element of the surprise as bait, Warriors going down protecting you with all of the ferocity of his namesake, and choosing to risk getting a little roughed up over being separated from him.

You’re quite proud of yourself really, what with the way that you almost fully tore a chunk out of a Blademaster’s throat with your teeth and before they gave up, leg broken and with the spikes on your wrist as you woke up first with the fury of Volvagia’s fire scorching your veins, overwhelming the icy chill of terror in your veins and only instinct driving you because who knows what they’d done to him. Worth it. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you let something happen to your favorite soldier boy. At least now you’re both in the same place, even if it’s with the man running the doomsday show himself.

“I know right?! Once I get my hands on that little nuisance, I am going to kill him dead!”

It’s a bit of a pity, in a way. You’re sure that under better circumstances you’d be as amused as Wild by him and he’d be a lovely conversation partner, you doubt the Yiga would follow him if he wasn’t charismatic after all, like watching a wet cat get their head stuck in a jar you had to admit watching the man struggle and fail was just a bit hilarious.

Alas by the whims of the gods spinning the wheel of fate and making it be fully comprised of misfortune to the point you really would like to have a nice chat involving your fists and their faces and maybe one foot straight up Hylia's gash, twas not to be, but it works in your favor. You just needed to stall for as long as you could until Warriors woke up or had an opening stop feigning sleep, either works.

“I just had a thought, a truly magnificent idea worthy of someone as worthy of being the Calamity’s most trusted champion! You travel with that twerp and his companions don’t you?”, the man stilled, then swerved towards you, you contained a flinch in a sudden movement, just on the edge of cartoony, adamantly looking over his shoulder rather than the twisted, crimson eye of the cold mask of the leader of the people who joked about keeping one of Warriors’ eyes as a necklace for it worked just as well as gem, “You could work for us instead, we’d pay you quite well for the information.”

Adamantly trying not to look at Warrior’s behind him, you hummed, head tilted, pretending to think about it, then shrugging, “Eh, I’ll pass. You Yiga don’t take well to traitors no?”

The man crossed his arms, adamantly nodding, “Of course not! Any and all who forsake our god should be slowly watch as their body parts are fed to Moldugas while they’re still alive!”

Cool, cool, lovely imagery to have, you were going to have one serious talk with Wild about proper threat assement once you’re back in camp by the way. You smile a bit back, remembering Warrior’s and using it as a reason to force a grimace away. Of the way he could charm better than any prince, making people fall in love with him effortlessly for better or worse and how you or Legend would viciously defend him from the worse crowd even if it gave you both Time’s exasperation (and grief from the other Links, who are all menaces whom you wished were less perceptive at times). Of the way he amusedly shared with you he main advantage was that no one could ever tell wether he was being friendly or baring his teeth, and how he slowly let you notice wether the curve was sharp or soft as you got closer. Making a point of showing your bloody, bloody teeth from both the Blademaster and which dripped down your head from one heck of a Lynel kick, you did not have Warriors natural charisma but you’d make do with your mediocre charm. “Well, I’m not in the habit of liking traitors much either you see. Sorry to let you down on that, plus if I can turn on them I can turn on you right? Better we skip that, I can give you a banana cake and banana pretzel recipe from where I’m from as compensation though?”

(You did not, in fact, know a recipe for banana cakes and pretzels by the way, but at this point you'll say anything just to buy you more time. Nothing like the age old ancient technique of lying. Wars would be proud his lessons came in handy.)

To his credit, he didn’t flinch. You’d actually be a bit shocked if he did given his clans entire gimmick to be fair. Sliding away from Warrior’s prone form and towards the one actually open door, keeping his back to the soldier, although his attention immediately focused on you like a Guardians aim, completely missing the light twitch to Warriors’ fingers you could spot in the dim torch light, “Fair enough, though you’re missing out on a lot if you ask me. Now! Banana cake you say? Might you be a person of culture after all even with an horrendous choice of company?”

Would you look at that, looking like a horror show does have it’s advantages!

“I mean I’d write it down but you know,”, you make a vague motion with your wrists, wincing a bit at the spikes, those would be a pain to get out later, you’d much have preferred ropes or chains, “But if you get some paper or get me to a kitchen I can direct your folks how to make it? You’d be the first to get a taste of it if you’re there too.”

He hums, pacing back and forth, Warriors eyes lightly crack open, the sapphire clouding with shock at your state, you can’t look at him long enough to figure out the ensuing combination of emotions, flashing, but you do see when the gems are forged into cobalt blades, you quickly mouth to him ‘Get free’ as soon as Kohga isn’t looking at you, he closes his eyes as Kohga turns towards him and nods. Though the Poe flame azure of his gaze could have probably killed the leader of the Yiga ten times over as he addresses you, “You’re an awfully generous hostage aren’t you? Though I like the way you think.”

You shrug, “I mean I’m not being manhandled, plus I’m bored so why not make some good food to kill time?”

You can see him weight his options, unnervingly staring at you beneath the mask. You adamantly don’t look at Warriors’ as he slides his boot very lightly against the wall, a small blade springing from the small compartment, thanking the Three the Yiga didn’t check either of your shoes as he twists around as silently as he can manage to cut himself free as Kogah nods, “Anyone with an appreciation for bananas should be allowed to share their wisdom, can you walk?”

You give him a flat look, you think Warriors bites his tongue to keep from making an equally indignant sound as Kohga seems to have the dots, awkwardly coughing, “That was a retorical question of course you can’t! I shall however extend you my benevolence, and call on my subordinates to carry you-“

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence when Warriors pounces with a snarl, you lurch back, hissing as the spikes make your wrists bleed and chocking down a shout at the pain that crawls through your leg like lightning, but it’s enough.

Warriors wraps the remains of his rope around the Yiga Clan Leader’s throat in a makeshift garrote, and make sure to use his momentum to slam his head against the cold, hard ground of the hideout, doing it again for good measure with all of the strength and ferocity you knew for a fact he kept as well sheathed as a hidden blade.

It all took but a second, he didn’t even scream. You doubt that killed him, but he isn’t getting back up any time soon.

You slump over, coughing blood from your mouth, it wouldn't help much but it was a start, “Welcome back to the land of the living, Wars.”

He rushes towards you as soon as he finishes tying Kohga up with the remnants of his own rope, gently wiping the blood from your sight, he was battered and bruised but the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life as he checked you over, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, relief ringing like a sword being sheathed, it would be alright. “Can’t say I’m happy to be fashionably late this time. What did they do to you?”

“Hey, none of that,” you gently touch your foreheads together, you smile, tasting rust on your lips though Warriors doesn’t mind as you lightly try to take his mind out of it, “You should see the other guy.”

He sighs, fondly exasperated as he shakes his head, you consider the quirk of his lips a win even as he pauses over your wrists, eyes flashing with rage before focusing on your leg, “I’m sure, that was a killer performance. Maybe after all this is over you should take up acting back home.”

You snort, “I mean I did learn from the best-“

it distracts you long enough for him to snap your leg back into place. And all you know is that you with pain, ripping through your throat as you finally, finally, feel safe enough to pass out.

(Warriors winces sympathetically, heart breaking a little at your pain but knowing it was the only way you wouldn’t focus on it, better than for . Holding you close and allowing you to muffle your scream into his shoulder as he wraps your leg in his scarf, guilty and fury carefully hidden behind the soldier mask, knowing that the only thing that would satisfy the flames of retribution in his chest would be to use the Yiga as kindling until they eventually burned the remnants of protective rage all away to ash.

But he could make do with taking you as gently as he could as you pass out in his arms, resolve himself to get the contraption on your wrists out as soon as you were both back at camp. And to kicking Kogah on the way out. It's not nearly enough but it's a start.

You protected him as best as you could, it’s his turn to return the favor as he can as well. Anything else can come later.)

#linked universe x reader #linked universe warriors x reader #out of all the links I wouldn't like to see angry I'd say Warriors is definitely right up there because he has such keen self control #that when he does get angry he's more vicious than almost all of them combined #he's seen some stuff in the war and likely is holding in just as much as Time Wild and Sky #so out of the Chain he's probably the best liar and the one who can hold his emotions in the most effectively #because when he does need to eviscerate someone he's unleashing all of his focused fury on them #plus it helps him multitask on the well being of his comrades better as well as on the mission #aka in this house we appreciate Warriors for managing to strike the duality of perfect prince #and protective soldier that does what needs to be done and will make it so not even his enemies dental records help identify their bodies #it's a fine line but the man can work it you can't share your soul with someone who was loved by a god killed a god #became a vessel for a good has a beast in their soul and was marked by many realms and live through a war your existence caused #and not be just a little feral methinks. helps that Reader also is a little feral and gets it when in survival mode lol #summer writes linktober shadow 2023 #summer writes #Warriors can feign sleep really well and always has knives on his boots due to the traitor purge in the war of eras #I have many thoughts on the Yiga Clan but not enough energy to dwelve into them all today sadly

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