#but the conversations im referring to i was talking about things that happened between ages 4-6

[theuntoaster]

Because I've had several conversations lately where people looked at me in surprise saying "how can you remember that? You were x years old", I've become curious.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE NEVER BEFORE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: your patience is thinning. despite having a conversation with dazai and being led to believe everything is okay, he's suddenly avoiding you again. luckily, or maybe unluckily, his hand is forced when he realizes that you're not waiting for him this time. whether he likes it or not, this confrontation is happening—except you slowly realize as it goes on that dazai's definition of intimacy is dreadfully different from yours.

{wordcount: 10.4k; ņsfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, i wouldn't say this is angst but it does deal with some references to heavy topics; jealous!dazai, depictions of dissociation (dazai), dazai's on the brink of a mental breakdown for a bit in the beginning, references to abuse (dazai. no actual depictions), references to dubcon (dazai. no actual depictions), dazai is wildly intelligent but not so much when it comes to sex & other forms of intimacy (he is quite uneducated in fact), slight oral (male rec), unprotected sex, sub!dazai, dazai and reader argue for a bit (he calls her a whore - doesn't mean it but still says it)}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 😒i hope you guys know im sitting here glaring at my computer because i did not want to post this fic. it's been sitting in my google drive for like AGES and im literally having to physically force myself into formatting this post because i wanted to keep it hoarded forever. anyway, read the warnings for this one pretty pls, this fic is a bit loaded—not exactly angst, but it references some heavy topics. let me know if any warnings are missing as always!

“I’m so sick and tired of him.”

You listen as Chuuya lets out another heavy sigh next to you, pointedly taking a sip of his wine, but you don’t even bother to glance at him as you glare down at your phone. Left on read, again, Dazai ignores your message asking him to meet you and Chuuya at the bar. You slam your phone down on the dark wood of the bar top before reaching for your own glass, taking a large gulp of it before opening your mouth to continue complaining, much to Chuuya’s displeasure.

“I thought things would be different after we talked. He moved back into my apartment but he’s still avoiding me like the fucking plague. I mean Christ, I broke up with my boyfriend, came crawling back to him because I knew he was pissed even though he’d rather kill himself—literally—than admit he likes me. Why the fuck can’t he even given an inch? Meet me halfway?” 

“Because he’s Dazai,” Chuuya says dryly. “What did you expect from him, honestly? … And we all know you weren’t going to stick with that civilian.”

“Oh, shut up,” you tell him bitterly. “That’s not the point. The point is I did, and I went right to him, and we talked, and he acted like everything was fine, and now he’s pulling this shit. How is he going to live in my fucking apartment and avoid me at every corner? And whenever I do manage to catch him, he makes up some bullshit excuse about a mission I know he doesn’t have and disappears.”

You lean back in your chair, brows furrowed and fingers curled around your glass. By now, all of the people that had been sitting near the two of you at the bar have dispersed to the dancefloor—if your arrival with Chuuya hadn’t been enough to send them scattering, your foul mood was more than enough to make them give you a wide berth.

“I’m frustrated,” you finally hiss. “I’m just frustrated, am I allowed to be frustrated, Chuuya?”

Chuuya side-eyes you. “Stop fuckin’ complaining to me about it and do something about it, jeez,” he says, hand sliding into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he fumbles for a lighter to light it.

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” you ask, becoming increasingly more irritated as you pull out your own lighter to light it for him. “I tried talking to him, now he’s ignoring me.”

Chuuya has the audacity to roll his eyes, looking at you with an unimpressed expression that makes you want to pluck his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on his skin. As if he can hear your thoughts, he leans back, giving you a suspicious look.

“I’m not talking about that shithead,” Chuuya drawls. “If you’re so frustrated, go find some sorry bastard to fuck it out of you. We both know that’s all it takes to get you to settle down.”

“Fuck you,” you say instantly, not appreciating how he acts like you’re a nympho. But already, your gaze is carding across the room, trying to see if someone catches your eye. When you find yourself disappointed, you look back at him and ask, “You offering yourself up?”

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Fuck no,” he tells you instantly. “No way. Don’t even say that shit to me.”

You’re almost offended, squinting at him and leaning back in your seat. “Why not? Like old times. You know what I like, I know what you like, we can make a good night out of it,” you propose as you lean your elbow on the bartop and observe him.

“Because shitty Dazai will never let me hear the end of it if he finds out,” Chuuya says pointedly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Bastard is annoying as is, if he finds out I’ve slept with you? It’d be the end of the world.”

“You have slept with me though, Chuuya,” you taunt. “Who’s to say I won’t tell him anyway?”

You won’t, but you like the way Chuuya’s lip curls up in irritation around his cigarette.

“Go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll tell him all about that time in Osaka.”

You gasp, scandalized. “Chuuya,” you hiss. “You would not. You swore.”

“Try me,” Chuuya says, raising his eyebrows at you, looking all too smug as you flounder for a response.

Humbled, and a bit mortified, you return to looking around the club, lowering your standards this time. You spot a blonde standing in the corner of the club, eyes flitting around curiously as he observes the people on the dancefloor, and a redhead laughing wildly as she spins with a drink in hand, teetering off to the edge of the floor. You purse your lips.

“No one is catching my attention,” you complain, sinking back down in your seat.

You decidedly don’t like the smirk that edges onto his lips as he looks at you, and it’s for good reason, because the next words out of his mouth have your eye twitching: “You’re that down bad for him already? Jesus.”

“I am not,” you spit out, glaring at him before pointedly returning to your hunt, looking around more intensely this time. 

But even as you do that, you start to wonder if that’s why no one is standing out to you tonight. How the fuck is anyone supposed to compare to Dazai Osamu? The thought is ridiculous—you don’t want to tug at blonde hair to pull someone down into a kiss, you don’t want a head of tousled red locks buried between your thighs, there’s only one person you actually want in your bed and he’s been avoiding you since you talked things out with him.

You let out a heavy sigh, considering just admitting defeat, but then your eyes drift to a tall, dark haired man entering the club, making his way over to the bar; his hair is a bit too long and a bit too straight, and his eyes aren’t the right shade, but they’re sharp enough and you’re tipsy enough to willfully confuse them for the familiar brown you desire.

“Nevermind,” you breathe out. Chuuya doesn’t even spare you a goodbye as you slip from your seat to make your way over to the man, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. “I found someone.”

Chuuya was right.

You think maybe you should stop doubting him as much as you do. This is not the first time that you’ve fought him tooth and nail about something only for him to be proven right in the end. But you’re not going to tell him that because he has a big enough ego and you’re not going to feed into it.

Dealing with Dazai’s fickleness the past two weeks has been much easier now that you’re fucking out your frustrations with strangers as soon as he’s gone for the night on whatever mission Mori assigns him. You take his aloofness in stride, ignoring the way he blows you off and avoids you in your own home. You think it’s bothering him, actually, because now when you walk past him without a second glance, you can see the way he hesitates from the corner of your eye, an indecipherable expression crossing over his face.

Good, you think. You hope he feels like shit. 

You let out a soft breath as you tilt your head to the side, giving the man you’re with better access. From the corner of your eye, with the tousled brown hair, you can almost pretend it’s him, but you know it’s not. His hair isn’t as soft as Dazai’s, who all but hijacked your expensive shampoos and conditioners, and you can’t feel the bandages that should be tucked beneath the tufts of hair. Your mind starts to drift, comparing how you think Dazai’s touch would be to this man’s. When you first kissed him, he was unsure and hesitant, would he still be now? Or has he grown more confident? You think he must’ve, you’ve seen him with people during events, lips tilted up in a sensual smile, lashes fluttering as he leads them into one of the backrooms. 

Sick and unfair, you think to yourself bitterly.

You let out a heavy, disappointed sigh.

“You good?” the man asks—you don’t remember his name, you don’t even know if you cared to ask. His voice is distinctly different from Dazai’s low hum whenever he teases you, a total immersion-break from your desired reality.

You roll your eyes, irritated. “Don’t speak.”

The man lets out a noise of agreement, fingers biting a bit harder into your waist as he continues kissing down your neck. You don’t really mind, the sting is nice, just enough force to draw your mind away from Dazai. The sigh you let out is more pleased now, eyes slipping shut as his hands slide up your body, kisses trailing down your neck to your collarbone. His lips are too soft; Dazai’s are horribly chapped no matter how much chapstick you force on him.

Dazai is out on another “mission”. You don’t even know if it’s a real mission or if he’s just claiming it’s a mission so he doesn’t have to stick around the apartment while you’re there, lowering the chances of running into you. For all you know, he’s just going back to that shitty shipping container he spent a year in and hanging out there until you leave for one of your own missions or a meeting. He looked particularly sullen as he left earlier, casting looks back to where you’d disappeared into the kitchen, not realizing you could still see him before he finally left your apartment. 

He’s such a pain in the ass, you think, getting irate again as he drifts back into your thoughts. He makes everything so difficult, things would be so much easier he just admitted that he wanted to be with you. You really don’t know how much more of this back and forth, wishy-washy shit you can take from him. You care about Dazai. You do. Probably more than anyone else in your life and you’re sick of him taking it for granted. 

You hum in approval when the man lifts his hands to your button-up, hesitating as he waits for your consent, and your gaze flicks up to the ceiling as he continues kissing down the revealed skin; from the crook of your neck to your collarbone, between your breasts, he unbuttons all the way to your navel.

You find yourself a bit bored, counting the specks on the ceiling, taking note of the crack that you’re sure is somehow Dazai’s fault. You think there must only be two more buttons left for him to undo before you can slide the shirt off of your shoulders but you start to feel uncomfortable under his touch, you feel prickly and his lips trailing down your body makes your skin crawl.

“Off,” you finally say, voice sharp. You press your hand against his shoulder to push him off of you, sitting up straight to sit properly on the couch. You scowl as you fumble through your pants pockets to find a cigarette.

This is Dazai’s fault somehow.

“Did I do something wrong?” the man asks hesitantly, trying to shift closer to you again. “I-”

“No,” you say bluntly, lighting the cigarette and lifting it to your lips. “Get out of my apartment.”

The man hesitates, you can feel his eyes lingering on you and you’re becoming increasingly more irritated, shooting him a glare from the corner of your eye until he finally rises to his feet, buttoning his shirt as he makes his way over to the elevator. You slump back against the couch, sighing as you look up at the ceiling and take a long drag from your cigarette.

Dazai’s fault. As soon as he crossed your mind, your whole demeanor had changed and you try to convince yourself that it’s because you just don’t know what his issue is. You don’t know why he’s avoiding you, you don’t know what changed after you met with him at the bar; you thought things would be good between the two of you. You thought you’d be able to be with him now that nothing’s left in your way but evidently there still is something preventing the two of you from being together and it’s something that Dazai is not sharing with you.

Bastard, you think bitterly, about to pull out your phone to send Chuuya a very irritated and very foul message about Dazai but before you can, the elevator leading up to your floor bings and you look up to watch the man you’d invited over leave.

Except as the doors slide open, you realize that someone is already standing in there.

You sit up straight when you see Dazai standing in the elevator, black gaze trained right on the man leaving your apartment. His movements are almost robotic as he steps out of the elevator, his head twisting to follow the man as he steps in the elevator. He looks distinctly unnerved as Dazai’s soulless gaze tracking him until the elevator doors slide back shut.

It’s only then that Dazai only turns to look at you. His face is eerily void of emotion as he looks at you, gaze dipping down to your unbuttoned shirt and the light bruises blooming on your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, wondering if he’s going to say something, but he only stands there staring at you.

“I thought you had a mission,” you finally say, leaning forward to put your cigarette out on the ashtray on the coffee table to button up your shirt half way so you’re not nearly undressed. When you finish, you pick up your glass of wine and take a sip. “You’re back early.” 

“I finished early,” Dazai replies, monotonic. 

He doesn’t budge from where he’s standing, limbs stiff and face blank. You glance down, noticing that he’s holding something in his right hand—a bag, takeout, maybe? Looks like it’s from that place in Hodogaya-ku that you like. 

“What’s that?” you ask, nodding toward the bag. Dazai follows your gaze down to it, staring at it as if he doesn’t even know what it is. You frown, becoming a bit concerned as you rise to your feet. “Dazai, you good?”

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave the bag for a second; after what feels like an eternity, he finally looks back up at you but he doesn’t even seem to be looking at you, rather it feels like he’s looking through you like you’re not even there.

“I got food,” he says blankly.

Your eyes widen a bit, wondering if this is meant to be his apology for being an asshole the past few weeks. Dazai never apologizes—he disappears until he can act like nothing happened or he does something to make up for what he did, but he doesn’t ever acknowledge what he did. It’s frustrating, but you’ve gotten used to his quirks over the years. You’d been wondering why he seemed so melancholic before he left.

You nod at the spot next to you on the couch, accepting the apology and sitting back down. “I’ll put on a movie.”

Dazai looks at the spot like it’s been poisoned, expression finally twisting from the emptiness into one of disgust.

“What?” you demand, offended.

Dazai doesn’t even respond to you; you can only stare in disbelief as he turns on his heel and walks in the direction of the kitchen. You don’t budge for a second, staring in shock to where he disappeared to, but after a few moments, you force yourself up to your feet and follow after him.

Your mind races as you make your way down the short hall into the kitchen, standing in the door frame as you watch him put the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter, pulling the different containers out of the bag and then opening the fridge. His movements are stiff and abrupt, almost robotic, and your irritation slips away when you see the expression on his face.

Closed-off. Withdrawn. Very reminiscent of the look on his face from that time he came back to your apartment after a mission that went wrong post-Dragon’s head Conflict, right before he had his first breakdown in front of you. He’d been trying to hold it all back, desperate to not lose control in front of you, but it was to no avail because it only made it worse.

“Dazai, what’s wrong?” you ask carefully as he stuffs another container into the fridge, so roughly that the plastic almost snaps. “Dazai-”

“Nothing,” Dazai responds sharply, voice cold and cutting but the way he takes in a sharp, shaky breath betrays him. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing.”

“Okay, that’s a lie,” you say flatly, sighing to yourself. “Can you just-”

“You’re the liar,” Dazai cuts you off, voice shrill and defensive in a way you’ve never heard from him before. Something crosses his face: a weird mixture of panic, anger and distress, like he knows he’s losing control of his emotions but he can’t stop himself. You don’t usually have such a hard time reading Dazai—it’s difficult, yes, but not as impossible as it currently is. It’s stressing you out because you don’t know what’s wrong and he’s clearly working himself up more over it. “You’re the liar. You’re the liar.”

Your eye twitches. Three breaths in and three breaths out. Now’s really not the time for you to lose your temper on him considering he’s on the brink of a mental breakdown for whatever reason. But you’re pissed, you don’t know why he’s calling you a liar and you don’t know what is going on, and you don’t want to deal with this especially after he just spent weeks ignoring and avoiding you.

“What did I lie about, Dazai?” you ask tightly, nails digging into your palms as you wait for a response. “Please, enlighten me.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tightening as he resumes tossing the food into the fridge.

“Dazai, stop,” you tell him, taking a step forward when he finally gets to the bottom of the takeout bag and slams the fridge shut so hard that it rattles. He grabs the empty bag and is about to storm over to the garbage can but before he can, you reach forward and grab his wrist, stopping him. “Will you fucking talk to me?”

“Let go,” Dazai hisses, trying to rip his arm from your hold but your fingers are too tight around his wrist, his bandages rough against the pads of your fingers—you don’t know why he’s still using those old scratchy ones when you stocked up with the softer ones but it only serves to irritate you more because why are you going out of your way to do nice things for him if he’s just going to toss it to the side? “Let go of me.”

“Tell me what your issue is,” you demand. “I’m done playing games with you, Dazai. Grow the fuck up and communicate.”

Dazai’s eye is wide and wild, looking far too much like a cornered animal as he bares his teeth at you and tries to yank out of your hold on him again. “My issue is that you’re a whore,” he spits out. “Let go of me. Now.”

You let go of him.

Instantly, the anger in Dazai’s face fizzles away. His eye is just as wide but his expression is lax, lips parted as if he’s only now just registering what he said. And you know he regrets it, you know that Dazai lashes out when he feels cornered; he becomes cruel and vicious, desperate in his attempts to protect himself when he feels vulnerable and since Dazai is Dazai, he knows how to hurt people. Knows exactly where the chinks in your armor are, drives the dagger in deep and twists it.

But even knowing this, it still hurts hearing that from him of all people.

“Okay.”

Your voice is quiet, you don’t even waste a second before turning on your heel and leaving the kitchen.

“Wait,” Dazai calls after you, voice wavering. “Wait, I didn’t…”

He can’t even finish the sentence because Dazai is Dazai and he doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t admit his wrongs. Doesn’t admit that he lost control and said something he didn’t mean to say. Would rather preserve his false visage of control than do anything like that.

“Where are you going?” Dazai asks and you can hear him trailing after you, words drawn long and shaky. “Hey, wait-”

You don’t know where you’re going. Leaving your apartment, you think, considering your feet are moving right to the elevator, but once you leave the building? You’re not sure. Maybe you’ll head over to Chuuya’s and crash at his apartment for the night, maybe you’ll go get shit-faced at a bar. You don’t really care, you just don’t want to be anywhere near Dazai right now. He’s put you through enough the past few weeks for you to stand here and take this shit from him. 

“I don’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice cold and sharp. “Maybe I’ll go find that guy I kicked out and finish the job if I’m such a whore.”

Dazai inhales sharply from behind you. “What?” he breathes out. “No. No. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” you scoff, not even looking back at him. “Didn’t mean it? You can’t even bring yourself to say it, Dazai. Clearly you did.”

That’s not true, you know it’s only Dazai’s pride that prevents him from forcing those words out, but you know it makes him flinch and you know it makes him hesitate. You also know how to target chinks in armor.

“No,” Dazai tries again, more insistent this time. You can hear him speeding up behind you when he realizes you’re going for the elevator. “No, you don’t need to do that. I don’t-I don’t get you. I don’t get this. I don’t get any of this.”

He sounds confused, borderline distressed—you don’t even know what he’s talking about, what he’s so confused and distressed about. How could you? He never explains anything to you, never communicates.

“You don’t get what?” you demand, reaching out for the button of the elevator but Dazai lunges forward to grab your wrist before you can. You finally turn to look at him, catching the way his jaw is tight and the strange emotion swimming in his eye. “You don’t get what, Dazai? Spit it out.”

“Why are you still sleeping with other people?” he asks, voice hitching. “You have me. You don’t need anyone else.”

You can’t help yourself—you laugh in Dazai’s face.

“No way,” you say immediately.

You don’t mean it in the way it comes out. You know it comes out as if you’re saying you’d never sleep with him, but you’re more so saying no way because you can’t believe he has the audacity to say this to you after he just spent weeks avoiding and ignoring you. 

Is this what his issue is? He doesn’t know how to cope with emotions so he evades and lashes out and just expects you to stick around waiting until he grows up? Fuck him. You deserve better than that, you waited long enough, you thought you were done with these games with him.

You don’t miss the way Dazai’s expression crumbles at your words, the way he stares at you, lips parted in disbelief. You don’t correct yourself, a part of you is happy that you can get your own knife in even if you do know you’ll regret it later. 

“What do you mean no?” Dazai’s voice wobbles a bit before he takes half a step back. His fingers are weak around your wrist but he doesn’t let go, feels a lot like a child clinging to their parent’s shirt. “What-I-I’m here. You want it, you were just going to-”

Not that that’s even the issue anymore, but you’re definitely not in the mood now. Honestly, you just want to go to bed. Your head hurts and Dazai is stressing you out and pissing you off all at the same time, plus you have no interest in fucking him when he seems like he’s on the verge of a mental break anyway.

“No, I don’t. I changed my mind,” you say, frustrated. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai replies, voice pitched and tinged with something too close to desperation. “No. You want me and I’m here, so you should-”

God, what the fuck is your life? You’re so frustrated that you want to pull your hair out and scream at him.

“Enough, Dazai.” You raise your voice at him. “Enough. I don’t want you. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai insists and your eyes widen when you feel his grip tighten on your wrist.

“Daz-” You start to say but you can’t even finish his name, cut off by his other hand finding its way to your hip, pressing you back against the closed doors of the elevator as he dips his head down to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your protest before you can even get it out. 

You think absently that you were right earlier when you were letting your thoughts wander to what kissing Dazai would be like. He’s no longer unsure and hesitant with his touches, his lips slide against yours with the expertise of someone who’s spent a lifetime kissing. The hand on your hip slides up your body so that he can hold your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. And you shouldn’t be indulging this, you know that—Dazai pissed you off, he has some nerve calling you a whore and then whoring himself out to you—but his lips are intoxicating, you can hardly think straight with them pressed against yours. 

He has your right hand pinned to the metal behind you, fingers curled tight around your wrist as he holds you in place. The way he kisses you is familiar, almost, and your brows furrow as you try to figure out why until feel his fingers brush through your hair, slow and lingering, dizzying, right before his tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip—a pattern of actions that you usually take to make your partners more malleable. 

Did he teach himself this just by observing the way you act with people at events?

You don’t fall for your own tricks though, so instead, your free hand drops to his waist, fingers slipping through his belt loops as you press into him, pushing off the elevator to walk him backwards down the hall to his bedroom. He lets out a surprised noise in the back of his throat, letting you walk him back; his fingers fall from where they’d been around your wrist and you take the opportunity to hook yours around his other belt loop, keeping his body flush to yours until you have his back pressed against his bedroom door.

You notice, a bit absently, that Dazai is a lot more pliant now with you in control. His hands are loose at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them—much like when you shared his first kiss with him—and he still kisses you back, lips moving slowly against yours, but it’s not with the intensity he had when you were pinned to the elevator door.

Strange.

You think kissing Dazai is a lot like a drug, one that you got your first hit of two years ago when you offered to be his first kiss but then never had another chance to get another taste of. You were bitter when he first started following in yours and Chuuya’s footsteps in taking people to bed to unwittingly ease information out of them—you’d find yourself watching him like a hawk as he drew people into secluded corners, as he pressed his lips against theirs and let their hands explore his body. You’d hardly be able to draw your eyes away once, not until he eventually led them out of the area to a bedroom.

You hated it. Truly. You like to tell yourself that you’re not jealous but you know it’s a blatant lie. As much as people would sell their souls to spend a night with you, they’d be just as desperate for one with Dazai because Dazai is Dazai. He’s untouchable. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. The youngest executive in history. He can be smooth and charming, yes, and he’s undoubtedly handsome. But more than that, he’s dark and unfathomable in a way that piques peoples’ interest in a sick and perverted fashion—they want to know what he’s like behind closed doors, they’re terrified of him but they want him, be it because of morbid curiosity or sheer lust.

And you hated that other people got to be with him in ways you couldn’t. Your only consolation seems to be that he had his eyes on you as much as you had yours on him, seeing how he’s pretty much perfectly mimicking the way you kiss and touch people, but you don’t know if that’s just because he was trying to learn through observing you—as he does with everyone—or if he hated watching you with other people just as much-

Oh.

Oh, you’re so stupid.

“You were jealous,” you realize, understanding what had triggered Dazai’s meltdown with the takeout food and insults toward you. Dazai stiffens against the door and you take the opportunity to trail your lips from his down to his jaw. “You were jealous over the guy I had over.”

“No-”

“You were.” You don’t even let him finish the protest, nipping at the spot beneath his ear gently and watching how he shudders. “How cute.”

“It’s not cute.” Dazai bristles. “You-you weren’t supposed-you’re not supposed to keep seeing people. I thought you were done with that. I thought we were-”

“We were what?” you ask coolly. “You avoided me for weeks after we talked, Dazai. Whatever we may or may not have been after we talked at the bar, it’s nothing when you start actively ignoring me for weeks after that.”

“But-”

You’re getting irritated again. “Dazai, you ignored me for weeks. I was pissed off and frustrated. And when I’m pissed off and frustrated, if I don’t have some way to relieve my stress, I do something stupid. Something stupid like putting a bullet in you the next time you stepped into my apartment after actively going out of your way to avoid me.”

“I was going out to get food,” Dazai says sullenly as if you were supposed to know that. “So we could watch a movie.”

“Last I recall, telepathy isn’t exactly part of my ability, Dazai,” you say dryly, calming yourself down by leaning in to brush your lips against his again.

A drug, you think again as the anger melts away when you feel his breath hitch against your lips. You reach behind him to open his bedroom door, guiding him in as you kiss him slowly. He’s fumbling again, unsure what to do with his fingers, clumsily moving his lips against yours until the back of his knees hits the bed, and he goes flopping down back on it. 

You snort at the surprised look on his face, joining him on the bed as you straddle his hips. You hover over him for a second before leaning down to give him another chaste kiss, enjoying the way he tries to chase your lips when you pull away.

“Tell me why you were avoiding me,” you say quietly as you lift a hand to cup his cheek. 

A foul move, you know. Dazai is always weak to gentle touches as much as he tries to pretend otherwise. You’ve noticed it when you watch movies with him and when he curls into bed with you on nights he can’t sleep. Just as you expect, he leans into your touch, lashes fluttering.

“Dazai,” you urge, “tell me why. What did I do?”

You didn’t do anything, you think bitterly, but you figure taking responsibility will be the easiest way to get him talking. You’ll fight about it later.

Dazai, to your surprise, turns his face away from you and your touch, a faraway look in his eye as he stares at the wall.

“You didn’t do anything,” he says. “I just didn’t-”

He cuts himself as if he can’t even bring himself to say it, and you know you have to do something because he seems to be withdrawing even more into his own head, eyes growing more distant with each passing second. You turn his head so that he’s facing you again and you lean down to press your lips briefly against his.

“You didn’t what?” you ask him.

Dazai still looks like he doesn’t want to answer, conflict spreading across his face as he stares up at you before he sighs and averts his gaze. “I don’t understand any of this. I didn’t want to disappoint,” he says so quietly that you barely hear him.

Your brows furrow. 

“Disappoint?” you question, a bit baffled. Dazai has a complex about failure. You know that too, have known it since you were sixteen. He can’t handle it, nothing makes him spiral quite like the idea of failure—you and he are quite similar in that regard—but you don’t understand what he means in this context. “Disappoint with what?”

Dazai doesn’t answer, doesn’t meet your eyes either, and your mind races to figure out what he might be referring to. You recall how he became hesitant and unsure when you finally took control, fingers twitching at his sides, body pliant as you moved him around, almost like a doll for you to maneuver as you pleased.

“Disappoint with this?” you finally realize, watching as he grimaces, confirming your suspicions. Your chest drops. “You avoided me because… you didn’t want to have sex?”

That makes you feel a bit sick to your stomach because what does he think of you if he went to this length to avoid you just because… Dazai’s entire body jolts at your words as if realizing how they came across.

“No,” he pushes out instantly. His hands dart out to cling to your shirt as if he’s worried you’re going to leave. “No, no. I want to. I do. Not just this… just in general. Everything. Me… This is just one part of it… the easiest to make mistakes with. I don’t like making mistakes.”

It’s only mildly reassuring.

“Dazai…” You start to say, pulling away, but his hands dart up to grab your waist so he can hold you in place on top of him. You think maybe the two of you need to talk. Again. “I just, I don’t understand.”

“I want this,” he repeats again, hands sliding down from your waist to curl his fingers around the hem of your shirt. He sees that you’re not convinced by his words so he pushes out a “Please” that nearly stops you in your tracks because you don’t think Dazai Osamu has ever begged for anything in his life.

You lean down to press your lips against his again. You set the pace this time, lifting your hand to cup his cheek—you pull the same move that he tried with you, nails gently scraping his scalp as you brush your fingers through his hair. Dazai melts into it in a way that you didn’t, lashes fluttering and lips parting instinctively, letting you deepen the kiss. Dazai’s breath catches as you push your tongue into his mouth, shivering when you trace the back of his teeth. 

Too pliant. All of the confidence he had earlier when he had you pinned to the elevator is gone. His breath wavers against your lips, and his fingers tremble as he grips at the hem of your button-up. Not a firm grip like you’d have anticipated, with his fingers digging into the plush skin of your hips as he grinds you down on his cock; instead, his fingers are clinging to the fabric as if he’s too overwhelmed to even think of grabbing your body.

“Tell me what you like,” you say quietly, fingers still absently carding through his dark locks as you kiss down his neck. Your other hand slips beneath his dress shirt, smoothing out over the bandages wrapped around his torso. “I want to know, wanna make you feel good.”

Dazai’s lips part to respond to you, but the only thing that escapes them is a pitched gasp—high and cracking in desperation, grip on your shirt so tight that you think he might rip it. He’s already hard, can feel his cock straining against his black pants, pressed against your thigh.

“I don’t-” Dazai’s voice is ragged; he sounds overwhelmed, almost confused. “I don’t know.”

“Hm?” you prod, nipping his neck and relishing in the way his whole body shudders at the feeling. “C’mon, Dazai, you’ve done this before. Tell me what you like.”

His gasp is choked when your hand tightens on his slim waist, lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back. More pliant and more sensitive, you note curiously, kissing back up his neck to tug at his earlobe with your teeth, a shiver running down your spine at the broken moan Dazai lets out into your ear. He jolts, eyes widening and face flushing—he looks as if he’s startled himself by the noise that escaped his lips, and you start to become a bit suspicious.

“I don’t know,” he tells you, sounding confused and frustrated. “I don’t know. It’s never felt like this before. How are you doing that?”

You pause.

You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, pulling your face back from his ear to look at him carefully because why is he acting like he’s never done this before? You know he’s slept around a lot. He picked it up over half a year ago when he got tired of hearing you and Chuuya brag about how easy it is to get things out of people like this. Made a point of making sure you knew about it when you had your boyfriend.

It’s never felt like this before.

Your chest swirls, and you feel a bit disconcerted as his words finally process. It’s never felt like what? Dazai doesn’t know why you’ve stopped, you can feel him tugging at your shirt, hazy eyes trying to focus on you. You wonder if the gears in his head are turning, realizing something might be wrong but unable to pinpoint what.

You kiss him to distract him, deeper this time. You press his head back against the soft pillow, one hand sliding to cradle the back of it as you try to break all of the quick-moving cogs in his brain so you can think in peace, cursing the fact that his mind has always been quicker and sharper than yours.

Dazai is Dazai. He’s smooth, charming—when he wants to, he could seduce anyone into his bed. You’ve watched him do it at events, sidling up close and leaning in to speak to people, dark eye lidded and voice low, a slow smirk curling at his lip as he brushes his finger lightly against the target’s lower back before guiding them out of the room. Christ, he’s nearly flustered you on more than one account. You want to say that he’s not the same kid who was nervous to kiss you two years ago, but he clearly is with how he’s reacting to your kisses and touches right now. But he shouldn’t be—maybe it’s because it’s you he’s with, maybe he’s just nervous because it’s you and not some random person he’s seducing for information.

But that doesn't explain the comment. Doesn’t explain it’s never felt like this before. 

“Never felt like what?” you ask as you kiss the corner of his lips and down his jaw again, all the way to the line of bandages peeking out from his dress shirt. You undo the first few buttons, watching the way his chest rapidly rises and falls under your touch as you smooth your hands over his chest. “Hm?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Dazai says, voice cracking and another breathy sound spilling from his lips as you kiss the underside of his jaw. “It’s just-it’s usually just-it’s not this.”

That doesn’t help you at all, you think. You’re about to press, but your lips on his skin have evidently made Dazai’s lips looser than they typically are because you don’t even have to voice a clarifying question to get him talking again.

“The way you’re touching me. Kissing me. It’s not like this, doesn’t feel so good,” he continues and you can hear the whine building in the back of his throat as he speaks. “It’s just sex.”

You slide his button-up off of his shoulders, revealing his bandaged body to you. You don’t make any move to remove them, but now you stare down at him, a bit perplexed. “This is sex,” you say, voice a bit stunted because you didn’t expect him to say that.

“No,” Dazai says, seemingly equally perplexed by your words, drawn out of the haze of pleasure into a more confused state. “Sex is sex. It’s penetrative.” 

“... Sex isn’t just penetrative, Dazai,” you say, baffled. “This is sex. It’s foreplay.”

Dazai stares at you like he doesn’t even know what that word means.

Oh, you realize, heart sinking as you realize why Dazai is so thrown off by all of this. How has he had sex without foreplay? Sex without foreplay is… it’s boring, not enjoyable at all. More animalistic than anything, borderline painful half of the time. Is that what he’s been doing with all of the people he seduces for information? The thought is a bit jarring, but the more you think about it, the more you think it might make sense. 

Dazai is prodigious when he’s given something that he can study and mimic; can execute flawless imitations of the behaviors he’s trying to learn. He learned the art of leadership from observing Mori. The art of war from observing the Colonel’s operations before his death. Adaptability from observing Kouyou during missions. Business from observing Ace’s meetings and transactions. Seduction from observing you interacting with people during events. Dazai is as terrifying as he is because he’s a perfect amalgamation of the entire upper echelon’s best skill sets. He’s adopted Mori’s mannerisms, the Colonel's strategic capability, Kouyou’s ability to adapt to any situation, Ace’s shrewdness with yen, and your charisma. 

If there’s something he can observe, he can mirror it to near perfection.

So, is it really that surprising to you that the front he puts up during events is just an imitation of how you act with people? That it doesn’t translate behind closed doors? That he had nothing to study and nothing to mimic once seduction progressed to the bedroom, so he let whoever he was with take the lead to try to learn from them in the moment? 

That maybe someone would use his ignorance on the subject against him?

Dazai is Dazai, you think, for the fifth time tonight. He doesn’t watch porn, he doesn’t ask people for help, and this isn’t something Mori would have ever taught him—you know that better than anyone. Mori sheltered Dazai from everything, even tried to keep you away from him; he didn’t want anything or anyone to taint the control he had over his precious Demon Prodigy. While you and Chuuya have had the chance to live, experiencing life and the outside world, Dazai’s been stuck under the watchful eye of the boss, hardly ever out of arm’s reach, caged like a circus animal to be put on display whenever Mori sees fit.  

Of course, Dazai would only see it as another way to get the job done, disregarding his own comfort and pleasure—because when does Dazai Osamu ever care for his own comfort and pleasure? He lived in a fucking shipping container until you dragged him out of it. It’s not a thought that casually crosses his mind, and he wouldn’t think twice once he thinks he has an idea of what’s going on. He doesn’t see things the way you do, was never given the opportunity to understand, taught by Mori to see things as tools and means to an end, even himself.

Dazai can see your mind racing. You know he’s going to put together that something is wrong soon if you don’t move on from this. But it’s hard—it’s a bit fucking jarring to realize that Dazai’s so overwhelmed by your touch because every other time he’s had sex, he’s probably been uncomfortable or even in pain. 

You lean down to kiss him again, halting his thoughts. You place two chaste kisses on his lips, sucking his bottom lip gently before kissing his cheek down to his jaw.

“What all have you done with people?” you ask him, sitting back on his thighs, lacing your fingers with his as you look down at him.

Instantly, his face is on fire. “What does it matter?” he demands, but you can feel his fingers tightening around yours.

You roll your eyes at his obstinateness. “Humor me,” you say dryly. “Are you usually the one leading, or is your partner? Are you the one penetrating or-”

Dazai’s grip on your hands becomes almost painful, so you quiet down, giving him an amused look. Maybe it's an awkward subject, but you want to have a vague idea of what he’s been doing before you do anything.

“... partner is,” he finally tells you, hardly looking you in the eye. It’s kind of cute. “... and only when it’s a woman, but she still takes the lead.”

“Do you want to take the lead tonight?” you ask him, running your thumb over his knuckles to try to get him to loosen his grip. 

He does, but only barely.

“Not tonight,” he says after a few moments.

“Not tonight,” you agree. “Did you prefer topping or bottoming?” 

Dazai thinks for a moment and then says, “Topping. Bottoming was…”

You force yourself not to wince, suspicions confirmed by the way he trails off.

You hum, sliding your hands up and down his bandaged sides soothingly, enjoying the way he slowly relaxes beneath your touch. “That can feel good, too,” you tell him. “I can show you that one day if you’d like.”

Dazai’s brows furrow, pointedly looking down at your clothed lower half as if trying to see through them. Your lips quirk up as he says, “But you don’t have a-”

“There are ways to work around that,” you snort, hands finally resting at his hips, drawing circles over his protruding hip bones. 

“… Not tonight,” he finally repeats.

“Not tonight,” you agree again.

You lift your hands back to his cheeks, holding his face between them as you kiss him again. You kiss him deeper this time, rolling your hips against his to make his breath hitch. You drag the tip of your tongue against the roof of his mouth—he tastes like cigarettes and faintly of whiskey. Tastes familiar. Like home.

You think you could kiss Dazai forever and never find yourself sick of it. Kissing him is like a drug, you think again. Kissing him gives you butterflies in a way that you’ve only ever experienced with him when you were sixteen, and giving him his first kiss. 

Kissing him is like coming home after being away for years. 

He kisses you back clumsily, all of the finesse he had earlier in the night long gone. His teeth nearly knock against yours, it’s a bit too wet and a bit too messy, but you think it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. You smile against his lips before pulling away to kiss the corner of his lips, nipping his skin when he lets out a shaky breath against your ear.

Your hands slide down his body to the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping beneath before you look up at him questioningly. “Can I?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.

“How else are we going to do this?” Dazai counters petulantly.

Brat, you think to yourself, a bit fondly. Thoughts race through your mind but you push them away—maybe another night. You don’t respond to him, raising your eyebrows and waiting for a verbal response.

His cheeks dust pink as he says, “Yes.”

You work quickly to unbutton his pants, patting his thigh so he lifts his hips. You trail kisses down his bandaged chest as you slide off his pants. He’s very responsive to your touch, each kiss makes his breath stutter, you can feel it in the way his chest rises and falls and it only makes you want to watch him fall apart more.

“Are the bandages okay?” Dazai asks after a few moments when you kiss down to his navel. You look up at him, brows furrowed, catching the hesitant expression on his face, dark eye trained on you. “Do you want them off?”

“Do you want them off?” you throw back at him, squinting up at him.

Dazai stares at you for a moment before he shakes his head, a strange expression on his face—you wonder if he was worried you’d ask him to take them off, wonder if his other partners made comments about it, pushed him to remove them. 

You wonder if it’s part of the reason why he avoided you for so long: he wasn’t ready for you to see him without them but thought you would ask him to take them off.

You leave it at that though, returning to kissing down to his hip bone, nipping the skin there and watching how his body jerks a bit in surprise. You let out a puff of laughter against his skin before you ease his briefs off, freeing his cock from where it was straining against the cloth—the soft ones you’d bought him when you’d found his rough, tattered ones in your washing machine a few months after he first moved into your apartment. 

You don’t usually find cocks pretty—they all mostly look the same—but Dazai’s is. Long, not too thick, his tip is flushed a pretty pink color and a vein runs along the underside. He’s leaky too, precum drips down from his tip, right along that vein and you want to taste him, so you do.

You lean in to press your lips against his length, sucking gently on the vein before kissing up to his tip. A bit too salty for your taste, probably because of his shitty diet, but you don’t mind because the pitched moan that tumbles from his lips makes up for the taste entirely. You peek up, breath catching at the sight of his head tossed back against the pillow, swollen lips parted in a pretty moan and long lashes fluttering. He looks stunning, you wish you could take a picture—maybe another night.

You think all of his previous partners have severely missed out.

“Ah,” he gasps. “Shit, shit-”

Even with just your lips wrapped around his tip, you can feel Dazai’s cock twitching in your mouth—you wonder if he’s already on the edge. You can see the way his abdomen is spasming beneath the bandages, how his fingers are curling around the soft sheets beneath him. You don’t want him to finish yet, you want him inside you when he cums, so you only spare a few chaste kisses trailing up and down his length before sitting up straight again. 

Immediately, he tosses you an accusing look. Bottom lip pushed out, cheeks flushed the same pretty pink as his tip. “Why-”

You silence him by pressing your lips against his. This kiss is lewder than your last, you push the bit of precum you’d gathered on your tongue into his mouth as you unbutton your own slacks. He makes a noise into your mouth but you don’t pull away until you feel him swallow. You smile against his lips before you pull back to slip off your own pants, watching his face twist.

“Yuck,” he says, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Tastes bad.”

“Have been telling you to start eating more fruits and vegetables,” you tell him, flicking his thigh as you shimmy out of your slacks and toss them to the side. “You don’t listen.”

The smile he tosses up at you is familiar, a welcome change from the distress and confusion that’s been plaguing him most of the night. “You’ve been thinking about what my cum tastes like for that long? Pervert.”

“More like I’ve been thinking about how high your cholesterol must be with how much canned crab and buttered bread you eat,” you say dryly, returning to where you’d been straddling his waist.

You lift your hands up, beckoning him to take them. He does, reaching up to lace his fingers with yours. A smile curves at your lips as you lean over him, pinning his hands to the mattress on either side of his head as you kiss him again. 

Your chest feels light in a way that it hardly ever does when you’re fucking someone, fluttering in the same way it was when you first kissed him two years ago. Usually when you’re sleeping with someone, it’s all about keeping up appearances. Flirty, sensual, seductive, you’re always more focused on the task at hand than you are enjoying yourself, this is… different. You mean, it always feels good—you know how to make sure it feels good for you while getting the job done—but this…

Feels like home, you think again. Being with Dazai feels like home and it scares you a bit because he’s so flighty and unpredictable but you push away the fear to kiss him harder. You have him now, that’s what matters.

“I like canned crab and buttered bread.” Dazai pouts as he mumbles against your lips.

“Shut up,” you tell him.

You feel him smile and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say so you cut him off by reaching down to position his cock at your entrance. Instantly, he chokes over a moan and your lashes flutter, feeling him slide between your folds. 

Shit, you hadn’t even realized how wet you were, too caught up in trying to make sure Dazai was feeling good, but now with the feeling of the tip of his cock pressed against your clit and his length firm against your core, your abdomen feels all hot and tight, head fuzzy.

You keep your forehead pressed to his, noses nudging, sharing the same sliver of air as you roll your hips, letting out a soft moan against his lips when his tip presses against your hole. Each breath he lets out hitches into a soft whine at the end, a glassy look to his eye. You don’t sink down on him yet, feeling how his grip on your hands tightens, how his breath becomes shuddered and his gaze becomes lidded.

You wonder maybe if he can cum just from the feeling of his tip pushing inside you—maybe another night.

“Please,” he breathes out for the second time tonight and who are you to deny him?

You don’t kiss him as you sink down on his cock, eyes fluttering shut when you feel how his cock stretches your walls—you want to hear him, hear the way he gasps, the way his breath catches, you want to hear his moans and whimpers. He tries to chase your lips but you keep them just out of reach until he gives up, fingers tightening around yours and hips jerking up.

“‘s so tight,” Dazai gasps as you rock your hips slowly against his. “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” you press, breathless. 

You distract yourself from the rapidly spreading heat by kissing his neck, letting go of one of his hands to bring it to his cheek, watching as he instinctively leans into your touch, hardly able to hold his eye open. He presses a sloppy kiss to your palm, hand coming up to hold yours to his face.

“Yeah,” he says shakily, lashes drooping and lips parting in another silent moan. “Feels…”

“Feels what?” you ask him, kissing the other side of his neck before trailing wet kisses up to his opposite cheek, feeling him shudder as you tug his earlobe.

“Right,” Dazai tells you, dark eye glazed over as he looks at you, lips wet and swollen and so entirely kissable that you can’t help yourself from leaning down to steal another from him. “Feels right.”

You wonder if Dazai feels just as at home with you as you do with him and that thought is enough to make you rock your hips. 

The noise that Dazai lets out is obscene and pornographic, pitched and breathy. You can hardly appreciate the lewd expression on his face—his hair matted to his forehead, eyes half-rolled back and lips parted in a pretty ‘o’—because the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls nearly has you tumbling over the edge.

Shit, you think to yourself, desperately trying to rein in the rapidly building pleasure. Shit, what the fuck?

You never cum this quickly—usually you have to slip your hand between the sweat slicked bodies of you and your partner to rub circles around your clit so you can bring yourself over the edge at the same time as him. You don’t think you’ve ever come from penetration alone—but the stretch of Dazai’s cock, the feeling of his tip bullying deep into your cunt, the sound of skin on skin and his pretty moans, it all goes right to your head and to your pussy, the telltale signs of your thighs tensing and your abdomen tightening warning you that you’re close already.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, voice shaky. “You’re so…”

You don’t even know what you're trying to say, mind becoming increasingly more empty of thought as you rock your hips again, setting a steady pace. Dazai chokes over air beneath you, the hand still intertwined with yours squeezing hard while the other one drops from the hand you have on his face to claw the bed sheets.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his moans are becoming louder and lewder, the way his head falls to the side, face half pressed into the pillow, eyes knocked back, body arched. Dazai’s already so gone that you think any second he’ll cum deep inside of you and that thought alone makes your body shudder. 

You grab the hand clawing at the bed sheets, guiding it between your bodies as you bounce on his cock. You can feel his hazy gaze trying to figure out what you’re doing but you’re more focused on guiding his finger to rub circles around your clit.

As soon as the pressure is placed on the sensitive nub, your hips are stuttering and a gasp is tearing from your lips. Dazai’s choking when he feels your walls spasm around him, hips thrusting up erratically to meet each of your rocks, but he’s just barely coherent enough to keep his finger rubbing circles on your clit.

Your breath becomes heavy and shaky, the pace of your hips quickening, fire spreads through you so rapidly that it’s impossible to control.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp when you feel yourself tipping over the edge, eyes trying to focus on Dazai’s face and the sight you’re met with is enough to push you over the edge.

Dazai’s jaw is slack, drool pooling at the corner of his lips, the white of his eye just barely visible, cheeks flushed a deep red. He's babbling out incoherent words: you can just barely make out your name, s’good, too tight, too much, and I’m gonna-

And then you’re choking over your own moan when you feel Dazai finish inside of you, cum warm and heavy as he fucks it deep in your cunt. His lithe body trembles beneath you, tense and arched, holding your hand so tight that you think he might break it, and your vision goes white as you cum on his cock, mind blank when the taut cord snaps within you, nails digging into Dazai’s skin.

Dazai’s cock is still twitching inside of you when you slump onto his chest, tremors still spreading through his body. You tilt your head up to ghost your lips against his jaw before sliding off of him, laying on the bed next to him. You feel empty without him inside you but you distract yourself by lifting your hand to his cheek again, tilting it to the side and forcing him to look at you.

More emotion swims in Dazai’s eye than you’ve seen him express in the entire two years you’ve known him, he looks at you so reverently that you can almost imagine three words spilling from his lips, breathy and adoring. You know he won’t say them, but it’s a nice thought, you think. You lean in to ghost your lips against his briefly, the tips of your fingers carding through his dark curls. You want to say something but you don’t know what.

Well. You do know what but you can’t say it.

“You wanted me soooooo bad,” Dazai finally says, a bit more clarity returning to his eye as his lips curl up. “I knew it, you wanted me so bad.”

“You’re so annoying,” you tell him but your voice is fond and you can’t help yourself from shifting forward to press your lips against his. You feel him smile against your lips and that warm, fluttery feeling returns.

Home. 

“You love it,” Dazai sings, nipping your cheek. 

A bit longingly, you think, I do.

Instead, you roll on top of him to straddle his hips, pressing your lips against his again. 

“You wish.”

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction. 

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door. 

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men. 

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son. 

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos. 

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him 

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June. 

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one. 

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle. 

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily. 

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass. 

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room. 

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at. 

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh. 

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.  

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself. 

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on. 

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans. 

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely. 

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people. 

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving. 

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean. 

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow. 

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway. 

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation. 

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him. 

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective. 

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. 

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently. 

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly. 

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet. 

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter. 

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera. 

What a funny thing. 

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything. 

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction. 

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters. 

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted. 

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward. 

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants. 

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing. 

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire. 

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer. 

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand. 

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds. 

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over. 

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it. 

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie. 

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added. 

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth. 

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him. 

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie. 

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog. 

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth. 

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair. 

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap. 

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table. 

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor. 

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time. 

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss. 

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts. 

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.” 

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching. 

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name. 

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly. 

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned. 

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more. 

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head. 

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole. 

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely. 

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly.  “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck. 

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes. 

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy. 

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths. 

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw. 

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.” 

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch. 

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly. 

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath. 

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her. 

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt. 

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily. 

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his. 

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit. 

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him. 

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would. 

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure. 

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

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[spaloonbabooguuscooties]

You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.

half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.

so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff

SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-

but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.

and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.

theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.

elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling

like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be

and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.

and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.

“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”

and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me

and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave

because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.

and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.

and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.

and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO

elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.

and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.

and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.

but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.

so now comes this.

because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.

and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.

anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman

sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !

[captainn-hook]

Character analysis on Prince Sidon (BOTW vs TOTK)

One thing I love about totk is how the game addresses Sidon’s trauma.

In botw you see how desperate he is for his father’s approval, it’s like Mipha set an impossible standard for dying not only for her domain and her people but for the whole kingdom of Hyrule. In their father’s eyes, she’s the perfect child, not only in personality but also in the way she’s honoured her family. Sidon sees how his father thinks of her, and although the king doesn’t do it consciously, he always put her on an impossibly high pedestal, and Sidon grew up believing that he HAD to meet that expectation, and that he would never, no matter how hard he tried.

When Link tames Vah Ruta and they both go to see the king, he tells his son:

“As your father, I am proud of you for fighting the Divine Beast alongside Link. You have grown much recently. I know you will be a worthy heir when your time comes.”

Then Sidon bows his head, as if he’s overcome with emotions because his dad tells him he’s proud of what he’s accomplished. King Dorephan isn’t a bad guy, don’t get me wrong, but the grief of losing his daughter (in this case, he thought she went missing and had been in the DB for 100 years, he didn’t know she died) made him sort of lose sight of Sidon’s achievements in those 100 years because he was so racked with worry and guilt. So although the king isn’t a bad father, he fails to reassure his son that he doesn’t need to do anything to make him proud (even though Sidon had definitely done stuff to make his dad proud over the years).

(Btw im pretty sure tripple digits in age is considered teens or early adulthood for Zora, so he’s still pretty young, I imagine around Link’s age if he were Hylian)

But that’s about all we get in botw.

So now we move on to totk. And oh boy do we get a load of Sidon angst. Some people might disagree with me but having read between the lines of what Lady Yona talked about (and just WHAT she actually said) in the first half of the water temple quest (before we find it, when we’re up in Mipha court), it really is angsty.

She’s aware of the fact that his sister’s death affected him a lot and still does despite knowing that her spirit moved on, and it (at this point) has started to affect their relationship.

Yona and Sidon have a disagreement before/after the battle with the Sludge Like, where they argue about him going with Link to this pillar of light that has suddenly appeared. It starts with Sidon saying: “Lady Yona! It is far too dangerous for you to be here” in reference to the sludge, but she has none of that.

She tells him that she wants him to go to the pillar with Link, and that: “For a long time, I have been concerned that you are holding yourself back and not acting as freely as I would have expected.” This has some credit because it’s mentioned somewhere how they were both childhood friends, and the Zora live long lives so it’s safe to assume their childhood is prolonged, which means that they’ve known each other for a very long time. Yona knows how he acts and behaves, his mannerisms and his fears, and that’s why she wants to push him to face them.

She tells him that if he goes with Link they’ll be able to overcome this problem, but he hesitates. She notices, asking him what is troubling him, and he hesitates again to speak what’s on his mind. This is when the Sludge Like comes in, and after the battle, the conversation continues.

Sidon hurries back to Yona and says: “Thank goodness. Lady Yona, if something had happened to you... I...” and there’s where it becomes clear just how terrified he is of losing her. He doesn’t finish the sentence, though, he changes the subject and tells her that she should go back to the domain in case more monsters show up. She tells him that he should focus on what Link said and that he can leave the court to them (Yona and the others that came with her). Sidon replies with: “W-well... Of course it would be best for me to accompany him. However, I cannot leave you alone in this dangerous place!” He’s ignoring what’s best and instead focusing on the safety of his betrothed, because of course he would! A monster just showed up and it took both Link and Sidon to take it down, imagine if neither of them were with her, what would happen? What would he do if she got hurt? And then the following dialogue happens (you dont need to read the whole thing, you can just skip to the bold parts):

Yona: “Did you not entrust this task to us already? We will not be on our own for long. We shall be just fine.”

Sidon: “But…”

Yona: “Sidon, my darling... I truly appreciate that you worry so for my safety. It speaks to the kindness in your heart.

But you are the prince of the Zora. One day, you will lead the people of your beloved domain.

I can see right through you, whether you want me to or not. You are yielding to the fear of losing someone you love again.

You must overcome your past and face whatever the future holds with courage.”

Sidon: “But... I...”

Yona: “Enough is enough! You are not acting like yourself! You must leave this place to me!

Sweet Sidon... Do not get lost in the past. You must keep moving ever onward. Just follow your heart, as you always do!”

Sidon: “Like my old self... Like I always do...”

Yona: “It is all right. I swear it. I am not going anywhere.”

Sidon: “I see... And there it is, clear as day... I was giving in to my fear of once more losing someone I love... I… I…

You are right, Yona! I will not give in to this fear! Nor forsake my trust in you! I leave this place to you, my love.”

[skip]

Yona: “All this time he was clinging to regret over being unable to save his precious sister, Mipha... My poor, tormented Sidon.

And to think he was unknowingly paralyzed from taking action because he feared losing me as well...

Yet he has overcome this trial and placed his faith in me. At last, the Sidon I know and love has come back to me.”

During this conversation, Sidon hesitates more than once and you can see it starting to irritate Yona because she knows the potential he doesn’t see in himself, because it’s not just fear of losing a loved one, but it’s his own insecurity from not being able to save Mipha.

He doesn’t care that he was very young and wouldn’t have been able to anyway, he just cares that he couldn’t. In his eyes, he failed to save his sister. And I’m not going to go too deep into this point but it’s clear that she was playing both older sister and mother, because we can assume their mother died a while back (she’s never mentioned and it’s just the two of them and their father even as far back as age of calamity if you want to include that).

What I’m saying is that with technically both the loss of his mother and his sister, it’s safe to assume that he feels some sort of responsibility for not being able to help, even if he was too young to do so, his disregard for the age he was at the time shows how much weight was left on his shoulders after Mipha died.

He never expected to be the heir to the throne, the sole survivor of his family (along with his dad), sure he’s a prince and princes have responsibility, but Mipha was always going to be in the spotlight (not that I’d imagine him jealous of this, it’s simply just a fact, and I think he might have actually even been comfortable with that), she was always going to be the Zora Champion and then Queen one day, so to have all of that suddenly dumped on him after the calamity as a literal kid would’ve undoubtedly had its effect on him.

Yona understands this, she tells Link, knowing he’s probably caught on, how he was “clinging to regret over being unable to save his precious sister, Mipha...”.

She has to reassure her love that she’s okay. “It is all right. I swear it. I am not going anywhere.”, she comforts him because she knows he needs it, he needs her to say it to him because that’s the only way he will believe she is in fact okay.

But his character develops. Sidon realises that in fearing for Yona, he has made her feel as if she isn’t trusted. He recognises the position he’s put them both in, him worrying relentlessly and stressing out about his loved ones because of his trauma, and her having to watch him fall down this never ending rabbit hole and being unable to do much about it because all he tries to do is shelter and protect her, even when it’s unnecessary.

But she does what she can anyway, and it pays off, because he comes back to reality and understands that although there will always be the risk of losing her, he knows that she is more than capable of taking care of herself. He knows of her strength, it was just hard for him to see the situation from her point of view. But she pushes him to do so, and he betters himself for her.

I think he’ll always have some small hint of this trauma response hidden away, but after this discussion, he’s got a firm hold on it, and is willing to control his fears for the love of his life so that they can start to build a life together without the sense of utter doom and despair over his past looming over them both.

I’m glad the writers did this, and didn’t just make them seem like this perfect couple with no issues, it shows a real and healthy relationship, and it shows that Sidon isn’t this perfect person and that he indeed has faults of his own.

That’s my take on it, anyway.

[newartistgirl]

Lu little details (1)

  It’s the little details what make me hallucinate every single time there’s an update. Now, eventhough I may forget plenty of the ones I noticed while reading or thinking through (and some other I might have missed), I’m gonna try to list some of them.

  Im going to focus more on reference-to-games details not little details about the dynamics between the group.

  1. The first posts actually are full of references. Like really full. It would be endless to point out all of them. (Twilight and the soup, Legend and the seagulls, time being the one talking to the fairy, different views of the princess, Wind and the soup too, Twilight quoting Rusl (It’s not the only time), Legend thinking of “a separete world”) My favourite, probably, is Wind asking for Kaepora to repete what he had said. In this category I might add everything she took under consideration when decicing not just their personalities but also even their ages, and all the answers to some questions, being actually incredible the fact that Twi is ambidextrous (Tbh i don’t know what’s actually more impressive, the fact that jojo carefuly has in mind the dominant hand of each Link or the fact that someone, actually managed to notice Twilight would change hands) (Maybe I was not paying attention) (Now, I’m wondering if that drawing of Time shooting it was intentional. Because, if you look carefully, he is actually holding it like a right handed person would)

  2. Wild not knowing about wallmasters. This is the most obvious and straight to the point one of the boys having lived in different Hyrules and having had different adventures, however, in the comics that follow the stroryline you can also get from what they say several times hints of this exact same thing. Anyway, my favourite example of this is Sky asking who Ganon was.

  3. I would add here the different opinions of the Links on different matters (I’ve already mentioned the different views Hyrule and Wild have on the princess). Another example of this would be Wild and Wind “arguing” about Kings of Hyrule. It makes so much sense. (I’m not gonna go down that opinion/personlity lane, but it’s worth mentioning) And Twilight and Legend complaining about knights, all based on the game experiences.

  4. That image of Twilight holding a puppy and Wild, completely unbothered, next to him. I really like that kind of sense of humour, and it’s a funny tiny irrelevant detail that I very much appreciate.

  5. Warriors referencing his game. I think it’s happened three times. First, when they are talking and he hides himself from a lady and Hyrule laughs at him saying it’s the third time he’s done that, because being a lady’s man has already been proven as a danger .Second time, with the traitor little comic (I missed that one, ups). And third, while talking about the master sword and how “believing you are invencible” it’s a dangerous way of thinking. I know all Links actually make references to their respective games, but some other references feel more remarkable. 

  6. I almost forget about it. That conversation between Time and Wild about having entered Gerudo Town is another example of diference between the Links. It’s just that this one has a special place in my mind merely because I had never actually thought of that and it’s in fact wonderful how Wild reacts to hearing Time’s approach into granting himself respect and access to the town. Similar to this, due to the fact that it’s straight up linked to Wild, we have that scene where the gerudo outfit is descovered and he gets teased. (Fun fact; I had no actual clue that goron spice was actually a cooking item in botw until I red this. I had never shopped in the Goron City. And yeah, either I had already beaten Ganon or I was about to)

  7. In Lon Lon Ranch, as expected, we also have several references. Being the most noticeable; Malon explaining Hyrule wht they keep sugar water bowls around, the couple’s mask hanging on the wall, or how sky loves cuccos. (A little also “innocent” one may be that Malon straight up mocks her husband’s nose? Being this a reference to the design of the hero of Time)

  8. One that I also skipped (and very much love) is Twilight seeing some kind of resemblance between Time’s Captain’s hat and the Heroe’s Shade. We also see more Majora’s Mask references, being maybe the most obvious one Time saying: “Poor kid... He met a terrible fate”. Like, I can hear the Salesman’s laugh.

  I`m gonna leave it here for now evethough there are plenty more nice details that show the attention to detail of this comics. However, maybe it’s better to divide this into more defined categories, such as the different games or even characters. And maybe, that way, I can stress how much I appreciate some of those, because, let me tell you that I could rant on about every single one of this nonstop, specially if it’s related to who they are as characters. There’s in my opinion just too many good things to say about this guys and how the whole group works.

(please, correct any spelling mistake. I’m not a native speaker)

[jimmymcgools]

honestly you should expect this request every week atp. any director's commentary for chap 6? (specifically the kim patty scene or the 2.09 scene. both have driven me insane.)

gosh, of course! thank you for asking!

the kim/patty scene is a fascinating one because, like... i've been planning for those two to talk again for ages. and (this has been happening to me since i first wrote acb) i always go swinging out into these kim conversation scenes with thoughts of her opening up or talking and then i finish the scene and she's said, like, nine words.

it happens CONSTANTLY

me: ooh patty is good at getting people talking, maybe kim will talk to her more about--oh no nevermind she doesn't want to.

so remembering that feeling is what inspired the "i only talk about things with him" line.

“Guess I should be more surprised a lowlife like him was married to you in the first place,” she says, eyebrows inching upward in disgust.

bob on commentary voice: ohh she called him scumbag uh oh you’re fucked

insulting jimmy really is a time proven tactic to get kim to say something though right. 

Saul Goodman has a good heart. So, what happened to it?

(Her skin catches on tape and when she next tears it she feels as if she’s tearing part of herself, too—ripping and ripping through flesh, dragging pieces out of her chest and packing them away in boxes and never opening them again—)

there’s a throughline in the chapter of “you’re the one who made him this way” and i wanted to kind of hint at that there. i dont agree with her but i think KIM might sometimes think she’s the one who made him that way re: the final saul form.

“You want to know who he is? That little”—Kim gestures, encompassing the air around Patty—“performance you did.” She chuckles darkly. “That’s Saul Goodman.”

Patty’s earrings sway: little flowers today, with metal stems. She’s nodding, as if she understands, but she doesn’t understand.

Kim exhales. “Or that’s how it started, anyway. Because if you’re doing it for the right reason, it doesn’t matter if you’re cruel, right?”

driving myself crazy with the idea of like... i dont know. i think by the ham scam era kim understood the purpose of saul, you know, in a way she didn’t during s4/s5. or at least she can reflect on it now. 

the saulness of--i’m doing this thing and someone might get hurt and i KNOW that but i’m not *really* like this so it’s ok. i think it applies to both of them during the entire ham scam. the saulness of justifying cruelty to yourself even though like... ultimately what’s the difference between ~saul doing something and you doing it? people still get hurt. 

Saul Goodman was a suit of armor they built together—

(—and she left him alone in there—)

can’t believe im waxing poetic about fucking saul goodman from breaking bad but like. trying to garble out something about how he’s a justification for hurting people but he’s ALSO still that suit of armour. it’s all interconnected and juicy. 

“Well, I only ever talked about things with him.”

In bright moments, in rushes of excitement and glee, words spilling from her and falling through the air towards Jimmy. And in those times she was the kind of person she almost didn’t know she could be—after she got a new client, or did well in court, or passed another test. Words exploding out of her like fireworks in the dark.

but i was like ENTHUSIASM you know and personal service because that’s gotta count for something--

^ making myself so sad thinking about this precious excited s2 kimberly. 

im so glad people enjoyed this line! the fireworks thing is a little reference to the chapter in acb where they set off fireworks and kim talks about why she came to abq. 

... this new thing that moves through him and lets him wear an old name comfortably again, and wear an old expression comfortably, too. As if he’s just looking over at her from her sofa and there’s no expanse of years and wounds between them.

shoutout to me and @agentdanascully screaming about how jimmy looking at her in prison is literally just literally this exact face

like.... that’s the face?????????? ok im normal 

“I do want to move on,” she says. She wants to have a nice life. Somewhere with sunshine, she thinks—an old thought. Sunshine and palm trees.

“have a nice life kim” etc etc etc

kim and jimmy dreaming about the french riviera etc etc 

“He doesn’t deserve eighty-six years,” Kim says. “He doesn’t deserve to die in prison.”

pretty fuckin hard to argue with this one patty

that said i don’t think patty like... i think patty is more concerned about kim than truly suspect of who saul is. like, i think her purpose here is more to make sure kim is seeing things clearly. and by the end she’s convinced. 

“Three weeks,” Kim repeats. “And we’ll talk.”

TIME TO GET THE CLOWNS TO ACTUALLY SPEAK TO EACH OTHER NEXT CHAPTER (hopefully) (we’ll see)

[azucanela]

HOME PT. 1 | ZUKO

HOME MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: In which Zuko has a chance to go home.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: blood, weapons, fights, death threats

A/N: we love zuko in this house, also send stuff into my ask box im bored and need ideas to write kashdkfkjasdhlf 

When Zuko was banished, it seemed that Ozai was more upset that Y/N intended to go with him, than at the pain he had caused his son. She was a talented firebender, capable of defeating even Azula, his prodigal daughter, in an Agni Kai. Her tactics and strategies, despite her young age, proved effective time and time again. She had the makings of a great General for the Fire Nation Army, and Ozai saw it as a waste for her to search for someone who would likely never be found. Not when Y/N L/N had so much potential. 

Y/N just saw it as proof that Ozai never truly cared for his son. His recognition of the impossible task he had bestowed upon his own child.

At the end of the day, her loyalty lied with the prince, so she set sail alongside him and his Uncle, in search of an avatar that had been gone for a century. They had known each other since they were children, when Ozai had taken interest in her natural talent for firebending. She had been raised alongside Zuko and Azula, training with them. But as most knew, Azula had an affinity for inflicting pain to those around her in her free time, so when the time came for a sparring match between Y/N and Azula, the results were deadly.

Ozai decided Y/N would stick around a little longer when she managed to beat Azula that day.

Zuko had never been competitive, not like Azula was. Though he’d asked her for tips on how to improve, and she’d graciously assisted him. And so, a friendship blossomed in the fire of their youth. She became his sparring partner, and as they grew older, his right hand.

She never regretted stepping onto the boat with Zuko the first day of his banishment. But she was beginning to regret ever speaking with him in the first place. He had no goal other than finding the Avatar, it was his sole purpose at this point, even after nearly three years of searching. But there were moments in which she found him rather… peaceful. He was almost the same boy who Y/N had played tag with as a child all those years ago. And in these moments, when she caught a glimpse of the real Zuko, she couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in her chest each time they had an actual conversation. 

One that wasn’t about his never ending quest to find the Avatar.

The conversations they had in the middle of the night, when sleep failed to reach them. The ones they never mentioned when the night was over. Because what happened in Zukos’ room at night, stayed there.

Y/N had only ever needed to knock once and Zuko was opening the door to his room on the ship. She gave him a tight lipped smile as she slipped inside, hoping no one noticed because they both knew what it would look like from an outside perspective. Not that she cared what others thought. What happened between her and Zuko was their business, though nothing ever really happened. He would try to make tea, they would dump the tea because of how bad it tasted, Y/N would remake the tea, and then they would talk.

Sometimes she wished it was more than that though. 

It was a foolish dream to have, she recognized that as she took the teapot before he could even make an attempt to boil the water. “You couldn’t sleep either?” She asked as she began to heat the water with her firebending, holding the pot above her free hand.

Zuko scoffed, sitting back on the mat he referred to as a bed, “no, I just knew you’d be awake.” 

Y/N frowned, “you should’ve gone to bed.” She places the tea leaves into the steaming pot, moving to sit with her legs crossed, across from him on the floor.

“And put the entire ship at risk?” Came his response, his brow raised. 

Y/N laughed lightly, “what are you talking about?” Her head tilts as she looks at him in confusion, grabbing the two solitary teacups on his desk. 

“Last time you were left unattended you nearly blew up our only means of transportation.” He deadpanned. 

She rolled her eyes, looking to him as she spoke, “that was one time-”

Zuko was smiling now, “remember the time you nearly killed that man with a cabbage cart because he-” 

“Okay! I get it, you can stop now.” Y/N exclaimed, cheeks warming as she recalled the event. She handed him his cup of tea, and for a moment she could even forget that the only reason that they were on the ship in the first place was to find the Avatar, for a moment she could forget that Zuko had changed 

His hand grazed hers as he took the cup, mumbling a small, “thank you,” before he took a sip. Looking out the small window of the ship, he realized he would never forget his banishment. His home. He quickly brought his attention back to Y/N, only to realize she was already looking at him. 

She brought herself closer to him on the floor, “what are you thinking about?” She recognized the look on his face, the nostalgia, the pain. 

If he was honest, he was now thinking about the small amount of space between them since she’d moved to be seated beside him on the mat. Though he responded, “home.” 

Y/N hummed in response, taking a sip of her tea, “you miss it?” She asked.

Zuko scoffed, “that’s a dumb question. Of course I miss it. Why wouldn’t I?” Y/N was tempted to tell him that he shouldn’t miss the home that cast him aside for thinking of the best interest of the people. The home that was ruled by the man who scarred him for life. The man he still seeked validation from. 

Instead she shrugged, placing her tea onto the floor of his room, “well I don’t.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers, he looks to her incredulously, “what do you mean you don’t? We’ve been away for so long!” He exclaims, his temper beginning to show. It was rare for him to explode at her like he tended to with other crew members, Iroh had pointed it out to him, and though Zuko shut him down quickly, nobody could deny the accuracy of the statement. But they had grown up there, together. All of his happy memories, all of his dreams, his past and hopefully his future, were all there. Had that all meant nothing to her?

“The Fire Nation was never my home, Prince Zuko.”

He almost flinches when she uses his title. And she quickly changes the subject, though she can feel it lingering in his mind as they have their tea. 

She ended up falling asleep in his cabin after they talked for the rest of the night, awakening in the room she internally groaned, knowing what it would look like when she set foot outside of his room. Being on this ship for so long, she knew her fellow crewmates were looking for some gossip to spice up their lives a bit. Looking around, Y/N realized he wasn’t there. She brought a hand up to rub her temple she sighed when she sat up, deciding she’d go back to her room and get dressed before heading up to the deck.

They’d been coasting around Earth Kingdom waters that recently been put in Fire Nation control, and as she entered the deck of the ship, Y/N realized they had docked on one of the piers. The sea of people around the market made her wonder what the area could have to offer as she turned to look back on the deck, where Iroh had been seated with his Pai Sho board, along with several other crew members loitering in the area. “Good morning Iroh,” she said with a smile as she made her way towards him, “do you happen to know what we’ll be doing today?”

He smiled up at her, gesturing for her to take a seat as he responded, “well Prince Zuko was not very pleasant this morning, so perhaps something more violent.” He took the teapot on his side, “you should probably go look for him before my nephew does something unwise.” Iroh explained with a sigh, refilling his cup. 

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, suddenly grateful she hadn’t gotten comfortable and taken a seat when he’d offered it, “of course. He likely intends to do something irrational and stupid.” She cracked her knuckles, aggressively securing her dagger at her side as annoyance bubbled up inside her, “I’ll see you later Iroh.” 

She decided that if thugs hadn’t attacked him yet, she would, stepping off the ship and into the crowd. She slipped between the people with ease, making her way to some of the stands, shopkeepers yelling out deals as they tried to sell some of their products.

And then Y/N got distracted. It started out with a new dagger for her growing collection, then a new holster for said dagger which was now strapped to her leg along with the weapon. Would you look at that, with all this new stuff she was getting she’d definitely need a bag to carry it. Right? Right. Then it was some rare tea leaves for Iroh and new cookbook for the chef that lived on the ship, though it only served as a reminder that she was yet to eat. 

Making her way towards the part of the market that specialized in foods, the aroma filled her nose. Holding the strap of the bag tighter as she maneuvered through the busy market as she’d spotted a stand with a variety of foods. Y/N inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet smell as she reached the stand before picking out what she wanted to purchase. In the corner of her eye she saw cabbages and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto her face. Bringing out her small pouch of money, she went to hand the shopkeeper some coins, but the old woman shook her head.

“The young man over there paid for your things already Miss.” She explained, “scary guy. Just shoved this bag of money at me and told me to keep the change while you were on the other end of the stand shopping.” Though she ended up pointing in the direction of this elusive ‘young man,’ Y/N already knew who it was as she turned around and saw Zuko brooding against a wall in one of the emptier parts of the market.

She sighed, “thank you ma’am. Have a nice day.”

The old woman nodded, and Y/N put the foods into her bag as well, grateful for the variety of pockets within it as she made her way to where Zuko stood. “She had cabbages. I’m shocked you didn’t attack her.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “where have you been all morning?” She pulled two of the bite-sized pastries she’d bought from the old woman, handing one to Zuko that he begrudgingly accepted as they began to walk down the empty street before taking a bite out of her pastry.

“Around.” Came Zuko’s response as he ate the small pastry. “I just wanted to browse the marketplace.” Y/N took another bite of her pastry as she listened, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. 

She scoffed, “Zuko, I swear.” They were entering a plaza, with a fountain in the center, “it’s my job to know where you are. I’m here to make sure you don’t die during your search for the Avatar, because I’m your right hand, remember?” She exclaimed, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she got side tracked in her search for him,

“You were my right hand. At home. Not that it was your home.” He corrected her pointedly. It was quickly becoming clear that her statement had bothered him, and he wasn’t going to let this go. 

She looked at him incredulously, throwing what was left of her pastry at his chest, causing him to roll his eyes and throw what was left of his own at her face, though she dodged it. Y/N raised her brows, taken aback by this statement and action. He continued to walk as she stopped, dead in her tracks, “oh, is that what this is about? Because if you wanna talk about that we can-” A deep exhale escaped her, followed by silence. 

Zuko’s brows furrowed, “what? Don’t wanna finish the sentence?” He asked as he turned around, only to find that she had a knife pressed to neck, and was surrounded by a group of men.

Of course it had been thugs.

One of them reached to the pouch on her side, yanking it from its place on her belt while the other looked up to Zuko, “you’re going to give us your money, or your little girlfriend is gonna die.” He threatened, pressing the knife harder onto her neck, drawing blood.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N managed to let a bitter laugh escape her despite the situation, “in case you didn’t notice, we had just been arguing. I doubt he has a problem with my death at this point.”

Zuko glared at her, “could you shut up for one minute?” He exclaimed.

“Oh, I think I’m about to be shut up permanently but okay Zuko.” She replied, a sarcastic smile on her face as he narrowed his eyes at her.

He quickly returned his attention to the thugs, who had exchanged looks due to the strangeness of the exchange they were witnessing. “Here’s what’s actually going to happen. You are going to let her go, and if you don’t, you’re going to die.” 

The man with a knife against her throat laughed, “and how are you gonna manage that?” He asked, his four companions moving forward to form a circle around Zuko, weapons in hand. “We’ve got the upper hand.”

“Well, I’m not going to kill you. My little girlfriend will. And,” Zuko paused, eyeing the men surrounding him as he cracked his neck, “you don’t have the upper hand. Not while I have Y/N.”

The man was about to speak when a dagger suddenly pierced his leg, causing him to yelp in pain, dropping the knife he’d held into Y/N’s free hand. She threw the blade in Zuko’s direction and he caught it with ease as he dodged one of the men that lunged at him. 

Y/N kicked her captor’s injured leg, causing him to fall to the ground and allowing her to slip her bag off of her shoulder, wrapping the strap around his neck as she rammed the hilt of the dagger onto his head, effectively knocking him unconscious. Turning around to assist Zuko, she had a deadly realization.

One of the men was missing. 

Everything happened rather quickly after that, she extended her hand, preparing to begin firebending at the man that was attempting to sneak up behind Zuko, except no fire came out. Instead, a whip of water extended from the fountain, slamming him into a nearby building. 

The other three men exchanged looks, stopping their movements momentarily, then taking a few steps back before breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction.

Y/N was still staring at her hand in shock, though her eyes soon rose to find Zuko staring at her as well, the look in his eyes unreadable. A shaky breath escaped her, “guess that conclude your search.” She swallowed nervously, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued, “you can go back home now.” 

“We should get back to the ship.” Came his response. “You need medical attention.” Moving towards her, she took a step back.

“Zuko-”

“You aren’t the Avatar, Y/N.” He stated firmly.

“Really?” She exclaimed, disbelief clear in her voice, “because it sure does look like I am. No one else is capable of bending more than one element!” She pointed out. 

Zuko shook his head, “the Avatar is an Airbender. You were born and raised in the Fire Nation.” He rationalized. “It’s not possible for you to be the Avatar, even if the Airbender is dead, the next Avatar would be from one of the Water Tribes.” Zuko opened his mouth to continue speaking but Y/N cut him off.

“Zuko.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “What are you doing?” 

In that moment he is silent, and she wonders if he’s reconsidering his choice. In actuality, a million thoughts are running through his mind, maybe he could fake her death? Tell them that she died in this town, let her live out her life in peace while he continued a false search for the Avatar. Maybe this was a fluke, or there was a Waterbender hiding in the shadows that saved their lives. Or maybe he was in denial.

The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N wasn’t going back to the Fire Nation a prisoner. 

“Protecting the only home I have left.” 

Because sometimes home isn’t a place. It’s a person. 

You can imagine their shock when they discovered the last Airbender.

a/n: are there two avatars? maybe. is the reader a dual bender? maybe. will we ever find out? idk

[it-was-summer]

When I’m Away (Aged Up!Five x Fem!Reader)

Requested: Yes! Im so glad you guys enjoy my writing and support me! 

Plot: It was basically Five and fem!Reader were best friends and in love and when he jumped, she ended up in the apocalypse together with him. He finally confessed. A few years down the line they got married (as best as one can in an apocalypse xD) and eventually made it home together slightly aged up. Five was always insecure about the fact that he made Reader suffer though even accidentally. It was his biggest regret but most selfish happiness. Post-apocalypse saving, he overhears a conversation Reader is having with one of the other Hargreeves (Klaus, Allison or Vanya come to mind) and misinterprets it/mishears it. He thinks Reader regrets being with him and was truly miserable all this time and that crushes him inside. He starts doing his best to make things happier for her but also makes himself scarce. In a life or death situation, he ends up putting himself in the line of fire for her and before he passes out from the wounds, he whispers an apology to her with tears in his eyes and that he wishes that she can have a second chance now that she's young again. Of course Reader doesn't understand at all what he means and Five refers back to what she said and that's when she realizes what he means and that he misunderstood. He ends up blacking out before she can clarify his fears though and her next week is hell because she's so afraid Five won't wake up and will die thinking she never loved him. When he does she sobs, and she finally tells him that he misheard her and that she loves him and wouldn't trade her life with him for anything. (Right up my ally) Just because you wanted them aged up, I made the two of them 18, I hope that is okay!:) I hope that you like it!! @oceanspray5

Word Count:2623

You couldn’t really remember how it happened. The only thing you could remember is a flash of blue appeared and then a boy was there, in a mask. Everyone knew about the Umbrella Academy, you would be lying if you said that you had no idea who they were, but you did indeed recognize the emblem on his uniform. It was weird, however, that he was standing in your backyard. He stared at you, struggling to find something to say before you shrugged and said “Maybe the calculations were off.”

After that he would occasionally pop in without the mask, inviting you out with him when his family was too much or when he was feeling lonely. You didn’t mind, it was nice to have a friend. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if that someone was sometimes a little too blunt.

The two of you sat on a park bench in the middle of the afternoon, sunshine shining down on the two of you when you spoke up “You seem less snarky today.”

“Less?”

“Yes,” you nodded, still waiting for him to say why he was in such good spirits, but his answer never came. You didn’t pry, you knew that eventually he would say something, but right now was not the time.

His friendship came easy, it was like learning how to walk. You didn’t need to remember how to walk, you just knew you could. That’s how it felt to be friends with Five, he was like a walk in the park. It was your feelings that came second, crashing down on you like a piano, leaving you bewildered and wounded.

You never said anything, thinking that it was just a mindless crush that would eventually disappear, leaving things to continue as they normally did. However, you couldn’t help but notice how bright his smile was, how lovely his hair looked, or how he had dimples. None of that made you want to confess, the only thing that made you want to confess is when he would reach out for you. When his fingers would brush against yours in silly moments of bliss, that’s when you felt your chest deflate, leaving you in desperate need for air.

It was Summer, green decorated the world and colors swayed in the hot wind. You watched from the front door of the Hargreeves door. You knew that today was the today. You were just simply waiting for a moment. You were waiting for his schedule to be clear. It was supposed to be clear after lunch and you knew that, so you were here at one in the afternoon, waiting. You were playing with the hem of your shirt when the door opened in a violent fashion. Your eyes gleamed and you stood straighter, but that’s when Five ran past you. You followed suit, ignoring his warnings as he started his own personal mission. You lept towards him, in an attempt to grab hold of him, succeeding only to be surrounded by blue lights. You didn’t let go till Five stopped running.

It was hard to breathe, that was your first thought. You couldn’t seem to get a deep enough breath. Five was screaming, frustration filling up his senses as he tried to escape this hell. Then he ran, back in the direction of the umbrella academy, back to his home. You stood still, noise becoming obsolete as your soul left your body. You felt as if you watched yourself follow Five, you didn’t speak, you didn’t cry. It was only when Five turned to you with a panicked face and teary eyes that you felt your soul return, running over to him and holding him tightly as the two of you sobbed in the wreckage.

Surviving with Five was the easy part, he was your best friend so of course it was easy. The hard part was remembering. Sometimes you would have dreams about home, about your family or friends, sometimes you would even dream about growing up with Five. Growing up normally, as normal as the two of you could be, given how one out of the two of you was especially gifted. You dreamt about school life with Five. Going to prom with Five. Something normal and desperately sweet, but then you would open your eyes and you would be in a crumbling house, feeling hopelessly lost.

It was getting colder and you were looking for something to burn that seemed relatively dry when Five flashed in next to you. “Need help?”

You smiled up at him, giving him a tiny nod as the two of you started to walk into piles of rubble. “Do you ever dream about what could have been?”

“What could have been?”

“Yes,” you picked up a wooden plank “, Sometimes I dream about us, I dream that we met normally, like in the movies.” You explained as Five stared at you. He bit his lip and held his hand out towards you, letting you safely cross a ledge.

“No, I try not to.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I think that if we were normal,” his hand lingered “, I think that things would be different.”

Your eyes locked onto his for a second before he bent down to pick up some branches. You looked away with a small hum “Maybe, but I think we would always find each other. In this lifetime and in others, I think it always had to be the two of us.”

Five swallowed hard, turning to face you. It had been months now, months since the two of you ended up stuck here, and yet you still seemed so lovely. Even when the entire world was gone, you were still his light. He decided then that, no matter what happened it had to be you. It would always be you. “Like soulmates,”

“If you’d like a definition, then sure, like soulmates.”

“Despite everything I believe in, I can find it in my heart that I have always loved you.” Your eyes became wide as you held the wooden plank closer to your chest, mind running rampant as you tried to string a sentence together in the midst of your astonishment. Five grinned, knowing that he must have said something right by the way your cheeks were turning a beautiful red. You let out a melodic laugh as you leaned towards him, pressing a small kiss to his temple, then whispering a sweet “I love you too.”

Your love for each other grew like wildfire with each passing day; each week, month, and year felt as amazing as the last. The depressing parts of the apocalypse were drowned out by kisses and days of being together. Days of surviving together. That was enough to make it all bearable. All the scorching hot days, the freezing nights and rationing seemed so little compared to how the two of you loved each other. It was a few days before the fortieth anniversary of the apocalypse when Five turned to you with the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face. “What?”You giggled lightly, pushing him softly in a lame attempt to get him to answer you.

“I found some candles and guess what started blooming,” he pulled you by your arm over towards a patch of dandelions. They weren’t exactly flowers, but you weren’t complaining.

“Lovely,” you sighed as a gust of wind blew through the two of you, Five’s mouth moving but you couldn’t make out the words until the wind settled and you heard him say “We should get married,”

It was something impulsive and unplanned. You knew that even with the paperclip rings the two of you managed to make for each other wouldn’t be legally binding, but it was enough. Marrying each other gave the two of you just an ounce of normalcy in the middle of the revived earth. It was enough to make the two of you feel good about the world again. Hope was slowly being restored and the two of you had hoped that this small union between the two of you would be enough to settle the horrible images that surrounded both of your minds every night. So with two small vows and “I do’s”, the two of you wore poorly constructed paper clips around your left ring fingers, proudly.

Now you were staring down at that same paperclip ring on a much younger hand. After escaping from the commission and running, you were addressing your situation silently in a fully furnished, not to mention, elaborate living room. You and Five had jumped back into time, and by some fault the two of you became eighteen again. You felt more alive, yes, but more anxious than ever. You wish the two of you had more time. More time to make up a plan for the apocalypse, a better plan. Five sat with his back against yours, muttering soft calculations in the silence of his home. You just wish the two of you had more time.

The time the two of you were running through a clothing warehouse was when Five first saw it. He saw how desperate your eyes looked. Given that the two of you were being shot at the time, but his mind traveled back to when you talked about normalcy. His heart tugged in his chest, seeing your panicked face move closer, grabbing hold of his hand tightly and yanking him under a countertop. Deep down inside Five always felt guilty for bringing you along, although it wasn’t willingly, his chest still felt heavy as the two of you escaped the warehouse alive. He wanted you to have a normal life, that’s all he wanted. He wished he could be normal for you, stable for you and above all be extremely and completely boring for you, so you could have that normal life that you clung to in your dreams.

You watched Five perform a dance you had never seen before, walking around the kitchen avoiding your stare from the table and escaping any attempts of conversation and he did it all with a sweet smile. One moment he would be talking to himself loudly down the hall, but as soon as he saw you, he sent you a sweet look and stopped talking all together. He seemed so strange, and yet you couldn’t put your finger on it. You were sure that he was just trying to figure things out the same as you, but he was worrying you.

You were walking around the house when you heard Klaus calling your name in a excited tone, he straightened when he saw you, bowed and then said “Mrs.Hargreeves,”

“Klaus,”

“How is the husband?” he asked as he sauntered over next to you, sitting on the couch before he patted the cushion next to him for you to take.

You sat with a tiny huff “He’s being,” you trailed off before saying “,Him.” You let out a defeated sigh as you heard Klaus laugh at your anxiety.

“He’s Five, he’s always been moody!”

“Yes, but he loves me.” You looked down at the paperclip wrapped around your finger with a groan “I think he’s just stressed, or something. He gets distant, yes, but usually he isn’t so happily ignoring me?” you vented before you brought a hand up to your forehead gently.

“Why did you marry him anyway?”

You grinned, feeling childish “Maybe, because he was the last man on earth,”  that was the last sentence Five heard before he walked away, locking himself back up in the room filled with equations. 

“I married him because I love him. I really do.”

Something you had learned at the commission was that a gunshot was less dramatic than it was on television, and the worst thing you learned was that the screen wouldn’t fade to black when things got gory. Now you were wishing you were in a movie, as the gun was pointed at you by Hazel, but instead of the bullet going through you a brilliant flash of blue took the bullet for you and Five was falling to the ground, bleeding out from his chest. You let out a scream, catching him before his body could touch the earth, holding him close in your lap as his siblings fought off the assassins.

“Five,” you said his name clearly, holding back tears as your hands were becoming red with his blood.

His eyes darted towards yours in a second and he smiled softly. “Hey,” you dragged him behind the bar, leaving a trail of blood behind the two of you “Hey, Y/N…” You looked down at the sound of your name, tears blocking your vision. “I’m sorry for,” he paused, eyes searching for the words as his mind became foggy and damp “,for everything really. Please, please stop this and maybe you can move on without me and be better. Be happier.” he said breathlessly as Grace rounded the corner at the perfect time.

“What are you talking about,” his eyes fluttered, fighting to stay conscious as he let out a tiny whine before he drifted off into a state of unconsciousness “,Five!”

Then next few days were absolute torture, you sat at Five’s bedside, waiting for some kind of sign that he would wake up. Grace said his vitals were fine, it was only a matter of time till he was awake, but that didn’t start the ball of anxiety from growing deep within your stomach, infecting all of you quicker than any virus known to man. He had to wake up. Did he truly believe that you could ever live without him? That you could ever do any of this without him? Five was the love of your life, your soulmate, the one person who was supposed to grow old with you… again. You were stuck in this body, feeling miserable as you stared down at your unconscious husband, begging to anything, to anybody, that he would wake up soon.

It was around three in the morning when his eyes opened, slowly, but surely they opened. The first thing he focused on was you, seeing the red around your eyes as you stared down at him. “Five,” you let out a heavy sigh, smiling with relief.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I’m your wife, why wouldn’t I be here?”

“You only married me because I was the last man on earth,” Five’s fresh eyes filled with tears as he watched you let out a small sound of understanding.

“Is this,” you paused, your smiling dropping quickly “,Is this what all this was about? You heard me joking around with Klaus and you thought I was serious?” You questioned, feeling your heartbreak for the man you loved. “Five, my love, I love you with everything fiber of my being. I didn’t mean it like that. I would never leave you. I could never replace you, my love.” you leaned down, kissing his nose gently, giving Five a easy going smile as you pulled away.

Five swallowed hard as he looked up into your eyes, suddenly feeling foolish for how he was feeling. All the guilt he built up, watching you panic. It was because you needed him, you loved him. You couldn’t bear to lose him, just like he couldn’t bear to lose you. He let his tears fall “I’m so sorry, I thought you didn’t want me anymore, I thought-”

You shushed him softly “It’s okay,” you slid into the bed with him, holding him close as he calmed down “, It’s always been you. I could never love anyone else, it’s always going to be you.” You whispered sweetly to him, feeling his body relax into your embrace.

[july-19th-club]

AGAIN i am only halfway through the book and im gonna have to go back and reread some chapters i skipped because this is what happens when im very excited to read a book so if you know whether i’m right or wrong here DON’T LOOK AT ME but listen. okay. so. as i understand it, ideal lyctorhood, the lyctoral state achieved without human sacrifice, which has never been successfully done, is basically like extreme drift compatibility, with the goal/main benefit that of having a constant flow of living and dead energy between the participants such that they fuel each other and reach this powerful physical equilibrium that allows them to do all kinds of sick things with their bodies and magic, share their mental resources, and also not age.

working from the assumption that a strong connection and understanding is a step toward making this easier, the candidates closest to ‘drift compatibility’ at the outset of the trials are magnus, abigail, pal and cam. which is why pal and cam are the first to spot the thing that feels off about the process as interpreted by all of the other candidates. they avoid any trial room that involves stuff where you have to deplete your partner to finish the task, and less than halfway through seem to have decided that they’re only here to get to the bottom of the murders. he says, “i don’t like how many of these spells are about sheer control,” and out of all the cav/necro pairings, he and cam (and mangus and abigail from what we saw of them) have the most even balance of power -- more like two disciplines in concert rather than a leader and a follower; a boss and an employee; a damsel (gender neutral) and a protector as we see with other pairings. cam, notably, is one of the few cavs who can hold a professional conversation re: the nuts and bolts of necromancy -- he clearly doesn't shy away from sharing his research with her, and while pal isn’t so up on swordcraft that he knows the best way to learn it, he still is familiar enough with cam’s fighting style to have a little code with her describing attack patterns and moves she does. so he’s primed not to think of achieving lyctorhood through consumption (most necromancers, like harrow, DO think of their discipline as ‘control’) and more readily through partnership.

of the ‘megatheorem’ (which he turns out to be right about) he says “it’s wrong...there’s a flaw in the underlying logic. the whole thing is an ugly mistake”. so he’s already convinced that the original developers of the theorem missed something big that has never been revisited. and based on his conversation with harrow inside his bubble in HtN, we can assume he’s been working on this question since they last talked. he says, “tell me you did it correctly...tell me you finished the work” now, he’s been dead for eight months. he doesn’t know what harrow refers to as ‘the work’ (erasing her memories of gideon). he can only be referring to ‘the work’ of complete lyctorhood, lyctorhood without resorting to messy, brutal soul-eating to drive the connection home. in this essay, i will explain why the team from the sixth house are the closest of all the characters, protagonists included, to achieving perfect lyctorhood with very little effort at all

[readingaccountability]

snow crash - neal stephenson

my playlist (because of The Way That I Am)

final thoughts:

okay, im going to be honest right out of the gate- i cant decide whether this is a book id recommend or not. it was really fun for the most part, but personally there was a lot more exposition than id like. the early portions of the novel have exposition which feels completely fair, mostly things relating to worldbuilding. stephenson creates his own vision of future america, and some places online referred to it as cyberpunk, and some as post-cyberpunk. id be more in the latter camp, mostly due to the way he plays with tropes, leaving the reader unsure of which will be subverted and which wont.

the use of language was really fun, and i enjoyed the worldbuilding a lot. his vision of a futuristic capitalistic earth feels surreal in its immediacy and recognizability. the back jacket blurb ends with "a future america so bizarre, so outrageous, you'll recognize it immediately." which, yeah. a texan info-tech magnate? two competing corporations owning the highway system? suburban city-states? this was another enjoyable thing- everything was colorfully named, and names treated totally normally, which kind of poked fun at how we have everyday things named very ludicrously and for the most part we are totally blind to it.

one aspect i really enjoyed was that the author often doesn't make certain things clear to the audience, until he does, and then it becomes necessary to reassess the entire story and setting. this goes to underscore the theme of the importance of information and the ways we take it in and perceive the world based upon it. for example, we don't learn that y.t. is fifteen until maybe 75 pages in, at which point a lot makes sense in retrospect. the same thing occurs in the worldbuilding, as suddenly a detail is given in passing and the reader must incorporate it into the setting, which by default we assume to be similar in many ways to our idea of america. it keeps the reader on their toes as well as furthering the worldbuilding. for the most part, the tech stuff didnt feel outdated to me, despite being a future projected out from '92.

however, aspects of the book are definitely very 1992. id put these into two camps: the first, being that the book does at different times use slurs. the main character is black and asian, the n word is used a few times by racist side-character/antagonist types, as are a few other racial slurs. there was also the occasional usage of the r slur, within the narrative prose itself, rather than usage as an insult within dialogue.

the protagonist, who is named, unfortunately, hiro protagonist, is a great character and felt very fleshed out to me, though at times he reminded me more of dirk strider than normally would be ideal. (its obvious that stephenson and andrew hussie are of a similar type of writer, and play with similar tropes, lmao.) hiro is a man of many worlds. he seems to shift between them easily, though never fully existing in any of them. this is reflected in his background, both in his biracial identity and in having been raised on a myriad of army bases. this is layered further in his fluidity in interacting with both reality and the metaverse, yet remaining slightly, consistently aloof. fascinatingly the first moment i sensed this drop was when we meet juanita- aka where his real and meta realities coincide. the description of them as the adam and eve of the metaverse is both insanely romantic and thematically key (good god i wish we had more than like, two conversations between them). juanita designed the facial component to metaverse avatars, doing the majority of this work when the two were together, and hiro can see echoes of both their facial tics in the face of every avatar in the metaverse. in a way, by having done this work juanita is positioned by the narrative as one of the gods of this digital realm. she is also hiro's call to action, being aware of the coming trouble and alerting him to it, as well as connecting him to the informational database he needs to prepare.

y.t., the secondary protagonist, fucking ruled. i loved that she was just a fifteen year old punkass kid whose mom doesnt know how crazy this part time job is. y.t. being worried about her mom was a great thread throughout, and a really good balance to how obviously independent y.t. is. i do wish there had been a chance to explain more about her background (she has a dad who left who is mentioned in a throwaway sentence, and a boyfriend who is mentioned near the beginning but never again.) i really enjoyed how obviously hyperaware y.t. was at all times about her own place within the insanities of the setting, while also consistently writing her as a teen maybe in way too deep who thinks about things in typically teenage ways. but like, that wasn't ever held against her? the narrative meets her where she is. it was honestly awesome. HOWEVER,

i absolutely hated the raven and y.t. scenes. how creepy!!! he basically statutory rapes her!!! we know hes at least late 20s early 30s, because hes the same age as hiro. if this sort of content is upsetting to read for you, i definitely do NOT recommend this book. (if you want to avoid reading these bits: ch 47 y.t. meets raven, ch 50 they are in a bar eating, ch 52 things happen that result in y.t.'s anti-assault device activating- she did not activate it on purpose, but forgot it was there- and raven is knocked out.)

please PLEASE dont take any of the following analysis as like, trying to be apologetic towards this scenes. because again they were awful and hard to get through and really gross. but im also cognizant that the author was obviously trying to convey something by making the choice, like the way it was written is obviously not condoning this sort of thing.

i think maybe what stephenson was trying to get at with that, was that we see hiro internally negate any potential for anything untoward with y.t. basically immediately, since he kind of senses that she might have a small crush on him (though this doesnt last more than a fleeting moment, especially from her perspective). vs raven, whose 'poor impulse control' warning tattoo eventually elicits a sarcastic remark from hiro after he finds out raven and y.t. were "a thing". i really dont think hiro knew how far it went? like it was just suuuper weird, but i figured it was meant narratively to 1. execute the chekovs gun of y.t.'s anti-assault device, 2. contrast hiro and raven (especially considering the bike-racing argument where theyre telling the story together, which is supposed to parallel them, while contrasting the differences in how they ended up?), and 3. just to get raven unconscious, i guess. but good god it was weird and i hated every second of it, why couldnt the device have like, activated way earlier?? gah. fucking upsetting. moving past that!

honestly i was really frustrated by how little screentime juanita got, because the way she was introduced was so fucking interesting and then shes mostly off doing her own thing. the bits of explanation she gives at the end about what she was up to on the raft are so sparse and im like damn, can we get a little bit of her pov in here? please? that would have ruled. additionally, shes supposed to be hiros love interest, but we see so little of them interacting outside her intro scenes. a huge portion of why hiro is getting into the sumerian mythology is literally framed as something that will help him understand juanita, but we dont get to see him talk to her about it barely at all.

the supporting characters were quite fun, i particularly liked the librarian. big surprise, i liked the overly literal ai information-dispensor, lmfao. watching him and hiro interact reminded me SO hard of geordi laforge having honest to god conversations with the computer where he tries to coax information out of it, aka one of my favorite little aspects of tng.

and lastly, the major plot themes themselves. i adore the way stephenson approached action, it was very entertaining. usually i cant really visualize action scenes written out, but his use of language was really really effective and engaging. the plot itself was absolutely fascinating, though i found the premise pretty contrived. which isnt bad in itself, i was fully suspending my disbelief until the last hundred pages or so. which for a 550+ page book, isnt too bad.

i did like the approach of linking the ancient to the modern, that is always really neat. and i think ultimately stephenson did it in an interesting way, not how i would have done it, but definitely interesting! creating these ideas about information infrastructures, and there being words that can access those and be used to control people, was wild. not sure if i agree about the equating of religion to a virus, though he did specifically establish that it was more the approach to religion, than religion itself. (maybe if juanita had been more goddamn present in the narrative that could have been elaborated on a little more. literally her perspective would have been perfect in balancing that out!!)

ultimately what did me in was the very very very long winded MONOLOGUE where hiro re-explained the whole premise, in ways that didnt really neatly organize into a cohesive argument. a lot of the scenes where hiro talks to the librarian, which are interspersed throughout the book, are really exposition heavy, because stephenson is rooting his ideas in historical concepts that need to be explained to both hiro and the audience. and i thought all that was fine, because it was a conversation where hiro was grappling with the information, and he was figuring it out along with the reader, and most importantly it was a conversation between him and the librarian computer program.

howeverrr later on we get a full rehash of all that, where hiro makes clear some stuff that was just implied for the reader, and hes literally just telling these important men whats up in this big long monologue. utterly worthless. i kept reading it and going YEAH, we KNOW, we know this we know this. and the important men barely interjected. it added basically nothing to our understanding of the situation, other than reframing it. but everything added was already an implicit thing, and didnt really need to be said again.

the resolution to the book was stellar, the last 30-40 pages, once hiro is onto the raft, were great. ultimately after reading and giving some time to digest it, i think it was a solidly great book with a few big drawbacks near the end, but which dont carry through and sully the ending.

[verytiredowl]

A character analysation of IdV’s Bloody Queen

Bloody Queen AKA Mary is a hunter in the mobile/PC game Identity V. She is personally my favorite hunter because she is easy to learn but hard to master. Her backstory is something that has always interested me though, so i decided to compile my thoughts onto this one post.

Something i appreciate about IdV’s character roster is that some of them are based off of historical characters, and interesting ones at that. So expect a lot of history lessons and references that should be explained in order to understand a character fully (especially with Mary considering how there isn’t a lot shown about her backstory through promotional content, and im talking about stuff like the official website here).

With that in mind, let’s just get into it.

There is not a lot we know about Mary other than the fact that she is inspired from a mix of stories, those being about a French queen named Marie Antoinette and Bloody Mary. These two are used in seperate ways, Marie Antoinette’s story being used as heavy inspiration for Mary’s backstory and lore, while Bloody Mary is a visual/gameplay inspiration.

Mary’s description on her info page and on the official idv website is 

This is strange because it really tells little to nothing about Mary besides her being aware that the position of a queen means a lot of vulnerability. It also strikes me as weird because every other hunter has a fleshed out backstory being written under this tab. (With the exception of Guard 26)

So overall, the ground to work on is pretty small, we dont have a lot of info revealed to us, and therefore leaves her to be a character who loses a lot of potential on a writing stance.

Intro Video

Mary does have an introduction video, though, which explains the base of what happened to her Pre-manor. 

The video explains how Mary was the queen of a country that had a bad financial crisis which was so bad people couldn’t afford food (if we are sticking fully to the Marie Antoinette inspo, this was in the 1790′s) and the public felt as if Mary didn’t care enough to help her people, the citizens voted her to be beheaded under a guillotine. Truth be told, Mary was actually trying to help her citizens by giving them cake.

We have probably the most lore information about Mary from her deduction descriptions, which explain her career as a queen more in detail, about struggles she had and her situation in general.

Deductions

(Credits to u/mawile94 on Reddit for the images)

The first conclusion is clearly telling us that the king Mary married had a problematic family, and the king’s family probably only looked at Mary as someone who will keep the family’s name up, someone who will have a child with the king. (Also, dont get confused: Maria Theresia is Mary’s mother’s name, not her actual name.)

Mary used to spend a lot of time away from the palace in Petit Trianon, which is a manor located in Versailles. The secret letter tells us that Mary was egoistic, naive, and was kind of a glutton. The letter mentions how rumors are powerful, and are going to spread really fast once word comes out about the “incompetence” and lacking abilities witihin the royal family, which will eventually be Mary’s demise.

Princess Lamballe is once again a historical recreation of actual Priness Lamballe, a part of the Savoy House (Western EU country). In real life, Lamballe was actually the confidante (someone who you would discuss private matters with as a royal) of Marie Antoinette after her 1 year old marriage came to an end. IRL, Princess Lambelle dies along Marie Antoinette’s side as she gets killed in the French Revolution. 

The shameful secret can really only be assumed to mean that Lamballe was actually Mary’s secret affair, especially looking at how all evidence suggests that the actual royal family Mary is connected to seems to be a mess. Mary is kind of confirmed to be wlw from this deduction which is fucking cool, but this rumor mightve been what also caused Mary to be beheaded. (But, IRL, the king Artois considered Marie to be physicially unattractive or even smart enough for him, in contrary to him, where he apparently was attractive. He did end up making up with quite a number of mistresses. But let’s not get into a conversation about how unhealthy or toxic royal relationships were in the 1700′s)

this is obviously saying Lamballe is being replaced by the Yolande (Countess of Polignac) as her confidante. IRL, this happens because the Countess of Pilognac and Lamballe start having quarrels against each other, in which they try to win over the queen’s heart, and over time Marie ends up preferring Yolande’s company. But Lamballe feels as if Yolande was a bad influence on the queen, yet she could do nothing about it. The friendship between Lamballe and Marie remained regardless, and she constantly admired Lamballe’s loyalty toward her.  "She is the only woman I know who never bears a grudge; neither hatred nor jealousy is to be found in her." 

Mary finally has a child, and it is a girl. Here we see the reinforcement of Lamballe’s loyalty, but with this conclusion also being titled as a rumor, it is also telling that this is one of many reasons people will start getting suspicious of Mary’s possible affairs.  

This conclusion only leads me to believe that one of the several reasons why Mary was treated the way she was by the public was because of jealousy towards her life and the things she achieved at a young age. The description of the people who are spreading the rumors are bitter, sour people who take joy out of seeing the bad in successful people. Here is where it all goes downhill (as evident by the subtitle under the deduction title.)

We will once again need a little bit of a history lesson for this one:

Koblenz, first of all is a city in Germany. The reason why the French would ever think of even setting up anything in Germany was because of the French Immigrants, and the reason why the Germans were cool about this was because the archbishop-elector (one of the chiep bishop electors) was the uncle of Louis XVI-a persecuted king of France. Along with the refugees that entered the city, two of them was Louis XVI’s brothers: The Count of Provence and the Count of Artois. them, along with Louis XVI’s cousin, Prince Louis Joseph formed an army of aristocrats who would seek to fight for the Ancien Regimé (The name of the political and social system that was popular in France at the time.) In the meantime back in France, the Royal Family gave in and decided to adopt the  Constitutional Monarchy, which was very modern at the time. This deduction description just basically explains that this is where Mary and the royal family fucks up, i just thought it would be interesting to know what they actually meant by what they wrote.

Yolande has left behind the Royal Family and made a run to escape the country. If you’re wondering, at the start of the revolution Princess Lamballe was actually in Switzerland, but as soon as she got notified of the situation she revisited the royal family to aid them, and reassumed her position.

This letter in particular is pretty cut-and-clear: the intention of the revolutionists was to smudge the royal family’s name in the dirt once and for all. What real-life anti-monarchist propaganda would consist of at the time was promiscuous imagery of Lamballe and the queen as lovers to further “besmirch” the queen’s reputation.

This is just obviously hinting at the aftermath of the French Revolutions and also telling us the present (at the time the letter was written). Mary gets executed by the Guillotine, and-well we all know how the rest of the story goes.

Overall, Mary’s deduction story is just a short summarization of what actually happened before and during the French Revolution: it even added the details of how actually sketchy and corrupt the royal family within was, not just the dissatisfaction of the public. As a summary of what this meant for Mary, as the Hunter, she feels pure bitterness, and anger towards the citizens for the way they treated her and the people around her. And as we can see, there was no reference towards Bloody Mary what-so-ever, and the reason why that is is because according to the Chinese version of IdV (which is what the original game’s region/language is) Her name actually would translate to “Madame Red”, not Bloody Queen. I think it was just the translators having fun with words, and since her design is very similar to that of what a person would think Bloody Mary looks like, i guess it made sense to them lol

But regardless, we’ll still take a look at Mary’s design.

Mary’s design is simple compared to other hunter designs in IdV. A simple, ball gown which was originally white, but turned red due to Mary’s beheading, pools of blood dropped all over her body. Mary also used to have long hair, but assumed by the very broken looking locks of hair, her hair probably was cut down by the guillotine. Eagle-eyed people will also take notice to her neck, which is stitched back onto the rest of her body, which the designers wanted to include really bad since its prevalent even in concept sketches as well:

Mary’s gameplay design is based solely on mythologies about Bloody Mary, however, which makes things kind of confusing, but i guess thats what idv excels at the most lol

anyway, you’ve reached the end! if you have read this far, thank you so much, i put so much effort and research into this and i hope people will make good use of it. I also hope i made you more interested in playing mary and/or the French Revolution, lol  but thank you for reading this!!

references:

The Count of Artois and the Coming of the French Revolution by Vincent W. Beach 

The Princesse de Lamballe; a biography by Hardy, B. C. (Blanche Christabel)

My history textbooks

And wikipedia lol

[freddiesaysalright]

The Most Dramatic Season Ever - Week 4

Summary:  It’s your time now! You are ABC’s new Bachelorette and this is your journey! All these men (including our fav BoRhap boys and then some) are competing for your heart! Will you find love? Will you get engaged at the end? Or will you end up heartbroken? Find out, on the most dramatic season ever!

Word Count: 9.5k 

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @moon-stars-soul​, @danadeacon​, @deacyblues​, @thesundrop​, @cupidben​, @lostlittlenerd​, @delilahmay39​, @timmvrphy​, @queenmylovely​, @loveandbeloved29​, @free-pool-trash​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​, @local-troubled-writer​, @babyalienfairy​, @littlecarowrites​, @allthethingsicant​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @squishy-gay-astronaut​, @sherlollydramoine​, @butlegendsneverdie​, @dogmom2014​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Alright, we are halfway through the season! The drama continues this week on The Bachelorette! 

Warning(s): None

Night 1  Week 1  Week 2  Week 3

Week 4 here we go!!!

London was beautiful. You had never been before, so you were eager to explore somewhere new. Plus, you knew several of the guys would be familiar with it. This was an opportunity to see their world. And that was exactly what you planned to do.

The men settled into their hotel suite. It was a large, airy place, with a wide balcony overlooking the city. Then men all gathered on the balcony to take in the view.

“I’ve never seen Big Ben before,” said Mike. “Except in pictures.”

“What are you talking about?” Joe teased. “He’s right here.”

He pointed to Ben, who laughed. “That’s a much bigger Ben than I am.”

Joe then wrapped his arms around Ben in a bear hug. “Well, we’ve got the best Ben.”

“That, we do,” agreed Gwilym, who reached out and pinched Ben’s cheek. 

Ben laughed more and flushed. Then all the guys gathered in a group hug. 

Of course, Luke was not with them. He was inside, journaling by himself. After everything that happened, he avoided the other men, and they avoided him right back. So, he missed out on the bond that had formed between the rest of them. Despite all competing for the same woman, they had become solid friends.

When there was a knock on the door for the date card, Mike went to go get it. Everyone watched the hallway anxiously. Then, they all heard him release a delighted cry. They exchanged confused looks. Mike returned without a date card, but with something much better. You.

They all cheered when they saw you and engulfed you in a warm group hug. Then they all settled back onto the couches so you could catch your breath.

“Welcome to London, guys,” you said, scanning their faces. “I’m really, really happy with the group that’s still here, and I hope that we can just continue this crazy journey all together.”

“How are you enjoying it?” Taron asked.

“Well, I haven’t gotten to see much, but so far, I love London,” you said. “In fact, I came here today for someone to explore it with me.”

They all watched you, hoping you would say their own names.

“Gwilym,” you said, finding his eyes. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I’d be honored,” he replied, getting to his feet.

You smiled and followed suit, holding out your hand to him. You could see the disappointment on some of the other men’s faces, but you were relieved that they also seemed genuinely happy for Gwilym. Maybe you really could leave all the drama behind. 

You and Gwilym waved goodbye and headed out the door. You went out on the streets of London hand in hand.

“I’m gonna let you take the lead here,” you told him. “You live here, right?”

“I do,” he chuckled. “I’m not originally from London, but I live here now.”

“Well, show me around, stud!” you urged.

He laughed again and you were off. Gwilym walked you around almost everywhere that was nearby. He was knowledgeable about the history of everything too. That was one of the most attractive things about Gwilym to you. He was so well-read and intelligent. But it never came off as condescending. He was still incredibly kind and humble as well.

You stopped inside a pub to eat and grab a drink after all the walking. You ordered fish and chips because that’s what you’d always heard in the movies. Gwilym laughed beside you and kissed you on the cheek.

You each had a beer as you waited for the food.

“So,” you said as you sipped. “How are you since we last talked?”

“Very well,” he answered. “I’m excited to be getting to know you better and see where we go from here.”

“I’m excited too,” you said. “Every time I think about our connection, I always feel hopeful.”

“Hopeful?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” you said. “Since you told me your story, I feel like you’re the most hopeful person in the world. What you went through was...unbelievably sad. And yet, you’re still here, looking for love, pursuing it wholeheartedly. It makes me hopeful too.”

He smiled sadly at the glass in front of him.

“I’m flattered by your admiration,” he said. “Losing her - especially the way I did - was the most difficult thing I’ve ever been through. We actually moved to London together from our little town, so coming here with you really is like a fresh start. It’s making me feel like I’m re-discovering it.”

“Is that a good feeling or a bad one?” you asked.

“It’s bittersweet,” he said. “I feel like sometimes, I still miss her so much, and it still hurts like an open wound. And other times I feel like I’m fine.”

“That’s sort of how grief works,” you told him. “Moving on from something like that isn’t a linear projection until you’re over it. You have setbacks. You’re still allowed to be sad and confused sometimes.”

 “You’re right,” he agreed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is...despite all of what happened and all the hurt, you have made me hopeful. What I’m feeling for you is something so good that I fully believe that love can happen for me again.”

A smile spread slowly across your face as he spoke. You leaned over and kissed him sweetly, conveying your absolute adoration of that sentiment. Gwilym was so deserving of love, and you wanted to show him that.

Your food came, and you split the plate between you. It tasted amazing, and as you ate the fries, an idea came to you.

“How good is your eye-mouth coordination?” you asked.

He blinked. “My what?”

You giggled. “Like, if I toss you some fries, can you catch them in your mouth?”

“Depends on how well you throw them,” he retorted. “The real question should be how good is your aim?”

“Oh?” you returned, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Yes,” he said. “And since we are in the UK, they’re chips. Not fries.”

You snatched one off the plate and tossed it at him, hitting him square in the nose.

“Looks like my aim is pretty good there, chief,” you teased.

You threw another, and this time he caught it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

“Okay, we make a pretty good team,” he said through a laugh.

You threw a few more to him, and he caught most. However, when he threw them to you, your catching abilities were abysmal. You blamed it on Gwilym’s arm, and he let you. 

It felt really good to sit and laugh with him. You felt like many of your conversations with Gwil were so serious. So to be lighthearted and goof around with him showed you another side of him. A side you were glad existed.

After lunch, you continued to walk around a bit. Then Gwilym stopped at an intersection, tugging your hand to stop you from crossing the street. You shot him a quizzical look.

“Gwil?”

“If we turn right here,” he said. “We can get to my flat in five minutes. I’m not presuming anything by asking this, but would you like to come over and see it?”

You looked down so he wouldn’t see the deep blush creeping up in your cheeks. On any other date, this would have implied sex, but you two were on camera, being followed by a whole crew. You weren’t embarrassed by that. You were embarrassed that you were disappointed they were there. You were really attracted to Gwilym, and would not have turned down that invitation outside of this. 

Actually, you weren’t going to turn it down either way.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you said, looking back up at him.

“Great,” he replied with a grin.

God, he was handsome.

Gwilym’s place was humble and cozy. He opened the door and allowed you inside, and you felt like he had just done the same with his heart. Everything about this place screamed “Gwilym Lee.” You walked through the front and into the sitting room, which had aged leather furniture and warm lamplight. The kitchen was smaller than what you were used to in the US, with a vintage look. It was also strictly practical. 

Gwilym also had books everywhere. There was a half shelf in the sitting room beside the fireplace. A corner of the kitchen counter was dedicated to recipe books. They were also randomly on whatever surfaces he had set them down on while reading. You pictured him walking around, nose to the pages, glasses on, focused.

He had few decorations, but there were plenty of pictures. Some of his family and friends. But the majority appeared to be of him with his students. Gwilym was a literature professor, and he was clearly dedicated to his work.

“Would you like to see upstairs?” he offered. “There’s something really special up there I’d like to show you.”

“Please,” you said.

You followed him up the wooden staircase to the second floor. There were only a few rooms up here. Gwilym’s bedroom, a guest bedroom, a hallway bathroom, and one more door at the end of the hall. That was where he led you.

He opened the door, and you gasped at the side. Across each wall, floor to ceiling - bookshelves. Fully stocked, too. There were thick, leather bound reference books. Paperback novels. Limited edition classics. Everything you could imagine for a personal collection.

“This is my library,” he said, looking between the shelves and your face.

You wondered if you looked stupid with your mouth hanging open. Gwilym’s eyes shone as he gazed at you. How beautiful you were to him in this moment was beyond words.

“Gwil, this is incredible!” you cried. “Your very own library!”

He smiled. “Take a look around, see what you like!”

You went to the first shelf to your right and extracted a worn-looking book. The spine was damaged so you couldn’t read the title until you opened it.

“Anna Karenina,” you read.

“Ah, that’s quite a special one,” he said. “Very close to my heart. It’s my grandmother’s copy. If you look at the publication date, you’ll see why it’s so special.”

Your eyes scanned the page until you found it.

“1890?!” you gasped.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “She inherited it from her great-aunt. Because I collect so many books, she left it to me.”

“That’s amazing,” you said.

“Have you ever read it?” he asked.

“I have,” you said. “It’s a tragic story, but one of my favorite classics. This is a real treasure.”

“It is,” he agreed as you returned it to the shelf.

“You’re free to keep looking, if you like,” he offered.

You did. You perused the shelves and spotted another favorite.

“Oh, Summer of Katya!” you said. “I loved this book!”

“Another tragedy,” he said. 

“Yeah, but what a wild ride,” you replied. “That plot twist had me shook for days.”

“Me as well,” he said. “A great story.”

“So, how many of these books have you actually read?” you wondered as you set Summer of Katya back.

“All of them.”

Your mouth fell open again.

“All of them?”

“All of them,” he laughed. 

“That would take me the rest of my life!” you cried looking around again.

Gwilym watched you as you walked along the shelves, and you stopped to talk about a few more things. A small smile claimed his lips. You stopped talking and met his gaze.

“What?” you wondered. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just...you sort of seem to belong here in my home.”

You beamed. “I like feeling like I belong to the things you love, Gwilym.”

He held out his hand, which you took. With it, he pulled you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. You sort of felt like you belonged there too. Maybe you could. And maybe spend much of your life in this room, picking out what to read next before crawling into bed beside your husband. That would be a rather heavenly way to live.

For the evening portion of your date, you and Gwil met at a bar right on the River Thames. Like usual, it was reserved for just the two of you to enjoy your date. You sat down together and you smiled at him before making a small toast.

After you each had a bit of your drinks, you took his hand.

“I really had a great time with you today,” you said. “I feel like, so balanced with you. We can be serious, we can laugh together, and we can have intellectual discussions too. I feel like I can be every part of myself around you.”

“I’m relieved,” he told you. “And I feel the same. I haven’t struggled in opening up to you, and that's really nice.”

“Can I admit something to you?” you asked.

“In the spirit of such honesty, I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” he teased.

You chuckled and glanced down at your lap before looking back at him.

“When you first told me you’re a professor, I was really intimidated by you,” you said.

“Intimidated by me?” he questioned.

“I was nervous that you were going to think that I’m dumb,” you said.

He pursed his mouth in confusion. “W...why would I think that?”

“Because I feel like…” you trailed off. “I dunno, I’m not the most well-read person in the world, and I enjoy things that in the academic world might seem frivolous or silly. I try to keep up with current events, but I get distracted, and I think that all of that put together I -”

“Hold on,” he cut across you. “Y/N, none of that amounts to intelligence. You don’t have to read every book in my library or know every detail of Brexit to convince me that you’re smart. You are smart. A lot smarter than me in many ways.”

“Thank you,” you said, blushing.

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered.

“Of course.”

“Who told you that you’re dumb?”

You blinked, unsure how to answer him.

“Hardly anybody thinks they’re dumb on their own,” he went on. “Which leads me to believe that somebody, somewhere convinced you of it.”

You blinked again, this time to get rid of the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I...I, uh, had an ex who said that to me a lot,” you answered at last. “Anytime I disagreed with him or tried to address something he’d done to upset me, he told me I was being stupid, or that I didn’t understand anything. So, I kind of just became convinced that I wasn’t very smart.”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he said. “In all my conversations with you, I’ve found you to be not only extremely clever, but also funny, kind, and giving. In fact, my admiration has grown so much that I can finally say…” he trailed off.

You had been forming a smile as he spoke, but when he hesitated, it faltered.

“Say what?” you pressed.

“Y/N, I’m falling in love with you,” he said. “It seems unbelievable that it should happen so fast. But you are exactly the kind of girl I’d like to be with for the rest of my life.”

You smiled so wide, you thought your face might crack. Then you leaned over and took his face in your hands to kiss him. 

“Gwilym, I’m so happy to hear you say that,” you told him when you parted. “I feel like we’re really progressing. And I don’t want to stop.” You reached across the table and picked up the rose that was waiting there. “So, Gwilym. Will you accept this rose?”

“You know I will,” he replied, kissing you again.

Gwilym was very much a gentleman when he kissed you. It was slightly reserved, but with enough passion for you to feel how much he wanted to do more. Each move was thoughtful and considerate, just like him.

Gwilym: I really am falling for Y/N. I hate that she’s been with such terrible men in the past. She deserves so much more. I’d like to give her that.

You pinned the rose to his jacket and then you grinned at each other.

“You ready to go?” you asked.

“Go where?” he wondered.

“One of the most iconic places in London,” you said.

You offered your hand. He took it and followed you out. You walked together down the street until you reached it. The London Eye.

“Oh, God,” he sighed. “We’re really doing this?”

“Yes!” you insisted.

You had a whole pod reserved for the two of you. You were excited as you went up, but the higher you got, you also grew nervous. You clutched Gwilym’s hand.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re frightened,” he teased. “You went bungee jumping in the mountains!”

“I was scared of that too!” you returned. 

“Come here, cariad,” he said gently, pulling you into his arms once again.

You leaned on him and looked out over the city. The sight was breathtaking. All the lights from the buildings looked like stars. The way they reflected off the river was stunning. You felt like you were looking down from outer space or something.

“This view is beautiful,” you said.

“I like mine better,” he replied.

You faced him and saw that his his eyes were fixed on you instead of London. 

“Smooth,” you giggled.

“Kiss me,” he breathed.

You did. This kiss was different. It was deeper, more intentional, more open than your kisses before. Gwilym was fully giving himself to you and this process. To accent your joy perfectly, a fireworks show began over the river. You hardly noticed their colors or the sounds. Everything was just you and Gwilym.

Back at the house, the men were waiting for a date card. A few guys were bemoaning not being with you right now, but were holding out hope for a one on one. When there was a knock at the door, Richard went to fetch it. He returned with a card.

“It’s a group date,” he said. “Joe, Rami, Allen, Taron, Richard, Mike, and Kenny. Are you ready to meet Her Majesty? Ayyyy-yo! Y/N.”

“Ay-yo?” questioned Allen.

“What, like Freddie Mercury?” suggested Rami.

“What would Freddie Mercury have to do with a date, though?” Taron wondered.

“We’ll figure that out tomorrow,” said Mike. “With all of us on this date, that means…”

“Me and Luke are left,” Ben said with a heavy sigh. “It’s gonna be a two on one.”

A two on one meant a lot of risk because at least one of the people on it would be sent home on the date. It made Ben nervous because even though Luke’s behavior was atrocious, you kept him around, so there had to be a real connection there. Also, he was still angry at Luke for starting that stupid drama in the first place.

“I’m not worried,” Luke said. “Y/N and I have overcome a lot and I think that makes for a strong foundation.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. Just don’t tell her any more sh*t you’ve made up about me.”

“I didn’t make anything up,” Luke returned. “I heard what I heard.”

“You didn’t hear anything because I. Never. Said. It.” Ben shot back.

“Neither did I,” Joe added. “But let’s leave this in the past, okay? All any of us can do is focus on our own relationships with her.”

Luke and Ben glowered at each other a moment longer before looking away.

The next day, everyone but Gwilym, Ben, and Luke, got on a bus and headed out from the hotel. Mike, Kenny, and Joe had never been to London before, so they were in awe of the city as they made their way to the unknown destination.

Taron: I feel terrible for Ben and what he’s going to face tomorrow, but I’m also really glad Luke isn’t here to ruin the group date again. Those of us here are actually decent blokes, so I think it’ll be a fun day.

“Is that Wembley Stadium?” Joe wondered, pointing in the direction the bus was heading.

“It is,” said Richard.

The group exchanged apprehensive looks as they were dropped off at the legendary arena and escorted into it.

Inside, on the field, was a stage setup. You stood center stage, smiling at the men. You were wearing all white - a white v-neck tank top, and white pants with a red and yellow racing stripe up the sides, belted at the waist. You also donned a yellow, military style leather jacket. 

“Hello, gentlemen!” you greeted as they climbed up the stairs to join you. “Welcome to Wembley Stadium! How many of y’all have been here before?”

Taron, Richard, Allen, and Rami raised their hands. Joe, Mike, and Kenny did not. They were also the ones still looking around, while the others stayed focused on you.

“Well, surely you all know about the legendary concert that took place here in 1985, Live Aid,” you said, and they nodded. “And I’m sure you know which act stole the show.”

“Queen,” said Rami.

“Yep!” you confirmed. “So we’re gonna have some fun today. You’re all going to be dressed like Freddie Mercury and give me your best Live Aid performance.”

Their eyes widened as they looked at you, and you bit back a laugh.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be lip-syncing,” you assured them. “There also won’t be an audience. The person who does the best job gets to talk to me first at the cocktail party tonight.”

“Will you be the judge?” Taron asked.

“Actually, I won’t, I’m just enjoying the show,” you said. “The judges are some very special people who are quite familiar with Freddie.”

“Oh my God…” Rami said under his breath.

You smirked. ��Guys, please welcome Queen and Adam Lambert!”

The guys clapped as Brian May, Roger Taylor, and Adam Lambert emerged onto the stage. They first hugged you and then turned to face the men.

Richard: I can’t believe this...it’s f***ing Queen! We’re on a date with Queen! I mean - we’re on a date with Y/N - but Queen is there! I’m blown away right now!

“Hullo, guys,” said Brian with a gentle wave. “We just wanted to let you all know - don’t be nervous. This is meant to be something fun to show Y/N you can come out of your shell a bit.”

“Yes, have fun,” Roger agreed. “Don’t be afraid to make an arse out of yourself. Freddie certainly wasn’t.”

Everyone chuckled.

“So, you guys have fifteen minutes to change and decide on one song from the Live Aid set you want to do,” Adam explained. “You can watch the clip of your choice as much as you want in that fifteen minutes.”

“The costumes are backstage,” you said. “You guys ready?”

They nodded at you. 

“Okay, fifteen minutes starts now!”

While the guys got changed and prepared, you and the band went around and checked up on them. You went over to Mike first, who was watching the video of Live Aid and scrubbing through it quickly.

“How’s it going?” you asked.

“Okay,” he replied. “I don’t really know any Queen songs, so I’m listening for something that sounds familiar.”

“You know We Will Rock You?” you wondered.

“I know those words of it,” he laughed.

You giggled. “Well, I’d go for that one, then. It’s second to last.”

“Thank you,” he sighed.

You looked over and saw Rami chatting with Brian. Richard was talking to Roger, and Allen and Kenny were talking to Adam. Everyone was in the iconic white tank top and light wash jeans. They also had the studded armband and mustache. You went over to Taron next.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked. 

“I know what song I’ll do,” he told you. “Bohemian Rhapsody. That way I can sit behind a piano for most of it.”

“Nice,” you chuckled. “You play, right?”

“I do,” he said. “Although, as you learned on our Disney date, I’m much more of an Elton John man than Queen. Don’t get me wrong, I adore them, but Elton is more my style.”

“I’d love to hear you play some Elton for me sometime,” you said. “But honestly, now is the time to get out of your comfort zone and show me your edge, Taron.”

“I’ll do anything for you, love,” he replied with a grin.

Then you headed over to Rami.

“Hey, sweetie,” you said as he pulled you into a hug.

When you parted, you had to take a moment. Rami really looked like Freddie for a split second. With the mustache and the clothes...he had even styled his hair. He was getting really into this.

“Woah, you look great!” you said.

“Thanks,” he returned. “I’m really excited for this.”

“I know you’re an actor, so you’re not too worried,” you joked. “Which song did you pick?”

“Radio GaGa,” he told you. 

“Good choice,” you praised.

You chatted with Rami for another moment before moving on to Richard.

“Just be grateful we picked Live Aid and not one of our shows from the seventies,” Roger was saying as you approached. “You’d all be in leotards.”

“I dunno, I think I could make it work,” Richard returned with a chuckle.

“I definitely think you could make it work,” you agreed. “How’s it going over here?”

“Pretty good,” Richard said. “I know what I’m going to do.”

“Awesome!” you said. “You a big Queen fan?”

“Massive Queen fan,” he told you. “This is kind of a dream for me.”

“I think you’ve found your man, Y/N,” Roger teased. “This one’s clearly got the best taste.”

You laughed.

The fifteen minutes went by more quickly than you anticipated, but most of the guys seemed ready. There were a few nerves you could feel, but they weren’t too bad. Kenny was up first.

Kenny did “We Are the Champions” and he was pretty good. He clearly knew the words, but he was also nervous and shy. You found that surprising since he was a pro wrestler and part of his act was to put on a bit of a show. You cut him some slack, though. This was out of his element.

Taron was second, and he was better. His performance did come out more like Elton than like Freddie, but he was really feeling the music. You could tell he had wanted to play and sing himself, so he was holding back a little bit.

Mike was third. He did “We Will Rock You” and had a lot of energy, but it was more his own than like Freddie. You didn’t mind, since you liked Mike’s style, but it didn’t bode well for him as far as the competition went. 

Allen was fourth, and he did “Hammer to Fall.” So far, he came the closest to looking like Freddie up on stage. He was upbeat and had obviously studied the movements. The only problem was that it came off a little too rehearsed.

Richard went next. He had the same idea as Taron to do “Bohemian Rhapsody” so he wouldn’t have to move around so much. He was even more reserved than Taron. Evidently, he was not much of a performer at all, despite how much he loved the music.

Joe was sixth. He did “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” It was similar in idea to Taron and Richard, because he got to use an instrument. Joe could actually play guitar, so he mimed it well. Like Mike, he was more Joe than Freddie. Joe wasn’t a shy person at all, so he was still  entertaining.

Finally, it was Rami. From the first notes of “Radio GaGa,” you could tell there was something different about Rami’s performance. Every move, every step, every turn was intentional, but looked effortlessly Freddie. It took you off guard. Rami looked the most like Freddie, and with this performance, you were convinced he had a spiritual connection to the man. You looked over at Brian and Roger. Brian had tears in his eyes. Roger was closing his mouth just as you looked. They saw it too. Adam placed a comforting hand on each of their shoulders.

When Rami finished, the whole arena was deathly silent. All eyes were fixed on Rami, who stood breathless on stage, but looking proud. He also looked like...not Rami. That last note rang out, and for a moment, it was as if Freddie himself stood there.

Finally, Roger cleared his throat. 

“Well done,” he choked out. “We’ll just need a...a moment to uh, discuss.”

The band walked out of earshot for a moment and you approached Rami.

“I think you shook them up,” you said. “You certainly shook me up.”

He shot you a worried glance.

“In a good way,” you assured him. “Believe me, you were incredible.”

The band returned and appeared to have recovered from their shock.

“Everybody did a fine job,” Brian began. “Just remember to not be so shy. Show Y/N that you can open up and be yourself.”

“This really brought me back,” Roger added. “But one person in particular really captured Freddie’s spirit today.”

“And that person is Rami,” Adam announced. 

You let out a cheer and clapped for Rami, and the rest of the men joined you. You hugged him around the neck as you congratulated him.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said bashfully.

“Congratulations, Rami,” Brian said. “Enjoy your time with Y/N first tonight, and remember to use it wisely.”

Everyone thanked the band for their part, and got autographs before they left. Then it was time for the evening portion of the date. It was still at Wembley, in a private box, which overlooked the field. The stage set up had been removed already, so it was returned to its sport ready look. It was still lit up in the darkness by the stadium lights.

You met the men in the box and gave a toast. Then, you took Rami by the hand and led him out. Also reserved for you was the next box over, so you could have private conversations. You and Rami went in there and sat down to chat.

“You were seriously amazing today,” you told him. “That was like, Oscar worthy.”

He chuckled. “I dunno about all that, but I definitely had fun. Freddie Mercury is pretty special to me.”

“Why’s that?” you wondered.

“Well, we sort have a lot in common,” he said. “We’re both kinda awkward brown boys from immigrant families, but with a lot of dreams.”

“I can see that,” you said. “You feel that strongly about acting?”

“I do,” he said. “I take it very seriously. I believe in myself, and I hope that someday I can be big enough to win an Oscar. I wanna be like Freddie, where kids who look like me can start believing that they can succeed too.”

You loved that idea and what it represented. The only thing for you was that actors were away a lot, and you wanted to raise a family. With a partner.

“How does that dream fall in with your desire to have a family?” you asked.

“Lots of actors have families,” he said. “I’m already settled in LA, where most of the jobs are, and that’s where I’d want to raise my family. And I’d work with my partner to make sure my schedule didn’t interfere with important things. I know it won’t be easy, but I am family oriented, and I know I can do both. But the last thing I wanna do is settle.”

“Settle?” you questioned.

“I mean, I don’t want to take some safe, nine-to-five job just because I want to get married and have a family,” he said. “I want to pursue my dreams so that my kids will have someone they can really be proud of. Someone who didn’t give up on his passion.”

You smiled. “I like that. You’re a very driven person, Rami, I hadn’t noticed that about you before.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re learning now,” he said. “I am driven and focused and there’s a lot I want out of life.”

You both paused to sip your drinks.

“What about you?” he said. “What are you passionate about?”

“I’m most passionate about family,” you said. “I didn’t really have those connections as a kid. My family isn’t very close. I want that unit, that strength that comes with being together.”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment,” he said. “Is there anything else?”

“Like what?” you wondered.

“Like hobbies,” he said. “Y/N, don’t you have interests besides that?”

“I read a lot,” you told him. “And I like fashion and beauty, but those are just normal girl things.”

“Are you kidding?” he returned. “There’s a lot there to go with. Do you ever design your own stuff?”

You blushed. “I...well, I do sort of have this dream of starting my own clothing label.”

“That’s awesome!” he said excitedly. “Tell me more!”

“Well, I’d want to use all recycled materials so we’re not being wasteful,” you said. “That way it’s like thrifting, but you’ll still get the latest styles. Everything would just be re-designed and…” you trailed off. “Sorry. It’s kind of a silly idea.”

“Not at all!” he insisted. “I think it’s a great idea. Environmentally friendly and everything. That’s amazing, Y/N. Don’t doubt yourself.”

“You certainly help me believe in it,” you replied, all embarrassment fading away at his enthusiasm. 

“I want to help you believe in yourself,” he said. “It’s important to me.”

“It is?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he said. “I want to be there for you. I’m falling in love with you and I want to help you see yourself through my eyes.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You grinned. 

“You’re falling in love with me?”

“More and more every day,” he assured you.

With that, he kissed you. Rami’s kisses were always deeply passionate and romantic. It made you feel like you two were on the cover of a romance novel or something. You felt like you were in your own romance novel because you were falling for Rami too. He was just so special.

Rami: I really am falling in love with Y/N. I can just see a wonderful future with her as my wife. She’s everything you could ever want.

After Rami, Joe wanted to see you. Your time with Joe went as well as it usually did. You laughed together a lot and discussed the date. He reassured you that he was falling for you. You were tempted to say it back, but hesitated. You felt strongly for Joe, but there was still more to explore there.

Allen pulled you after Joe. You were still holding back with Allen, and you felt that he was too. He had told you more of his story on your one on one, but since then, you hadn’t had a serious conversation. You didn’t feel uncomfortable around him or anything, but there was something more you wanted. Like he was only giving himself partially to this. You wanted him to give everything.

Richard came next. Similar to Allen, he held back from you. He had divulged even less information about himself. Less than any of the other men there. Richard was fun and easygoing, but you wanted him to dig deeper. He just wasn’t going there. You needed to find out why.

Taron followed after Richard. Taron was not afraid of giving his heart to you, and you could feel it ever since that one on one. Every time you spoke to him, the relationship moved forward, in the right direction. You always looked forward to your time with him, and today was no different.

There was a piano in the private box, and Taron made good on his promise to play for you. He began with “Your Song” by Elton John, one of your favorites. His voice was swoon-worthy, and you loved listening. Each time he sang, you pictured him in your house together, singing your kids to sleep or just serenading you before bed. He felt like home to you.

“Life really is wonderful with you in the world, Y/N,” he said as he finished. “It’s becoming pretty difficult to imagine my life without you in it.”

“That’s sweet,” you said. “I’d have a hard time without you, too.”

“Really, Y/N,” he said. “I’m falling in love with you. Hard.”

You met his gaze, heart racing with joy.

“I’m so happy you told me,” you whispered. “You’re amazing, Taron.”

He kissed you. Short and sweet because neither of you could stop smiling.

Mike and Kenny also made things difficult on you because they both told you they were falling in love as well. You felt like all of them deserved roses tonight, but you knew who you wanted the rose to go to. As you all gathered back in the original box, you picked it up off the table.

“Thank you all for an incredible day,” you said. “We got a bit of a rock concert and I got to see you all just have a good time. But I wanna give this rose to someone who really proved himself today. Who showed me something new and moved our relationship forward.”

You found Rami’s eyes.

“Rami, will you accept this rose?”

“I will,” he assured you, getting to his feet.

You pinned it to his jacket as he kissed your cheek. Then, you bid them all goodnight. You were still riding the high of the day when you remembered that the following day, you had your two on one with Ben and Luke.

The date card arrived for Ben and Luke while the rest of the men were at the cocktail party with you. Gwilym retrieved it and read it out loud.

“Ben and Luke,” he said. “I want us to grow. Love, Y/N.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Ben groaned.

“What, eager to go home?” Luke taunted.

Ben rolled his eyes and went to his room for the night.

The next day, Ben and Luke each placed their luggage by the door. Whoever went home, the producers would come and take their luggage to the airport. The two men were driven by car to meet you in a lovely garden and park. Everything was blooming so it was the perfect time of year for a date like this. You just wished you weren’t dreading it so much. One of them was going home, but you felt like you needed time with both of them. Hopefully today would be enough.

“Hi, guys,” you greeted, trying to sound chipper as they hugged you one by one. “So today, we’re having a picnic in the park. It’s really beautiful here, so let’s have a good day, yeah?”

“O’course,” Ben agreed.

“Definitely,” Luke added.

“Okay, let’s go.”

You led them over the set up that was reserved for you. It was a small table with three chairs around it. You sat first - in between them - and then poured everyone a glass of champagne. The champagne was more for you, really. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, and you needed to feel at ease. These two had such animosity between them.

“So, Luke, you wanna go talk?” you asked.

“Sure, yeah,” he agreed.

You walked around a hedge to another small table. You took a swig of your drink and then looked at him.

“So, I know you’re not over everything that happened in Asheville, and neither am I,” you said.

“No, I’m over it,” he protested. “Really, I’m not mad at you anymore. I wanna move on.”

“I wanna move on too,” you said. “But I feel like we have to talk about this because this is a disagreement on something fundamental, and I don’t think you understand that.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Like, you were angry at me for taking off my clothes in front of Joe,” you said. “Because of your beliefs, you felt like it was disrespectful. I don’t know any other way to tell you that I don’t share those beliefs and you can’t force them on me.”

“I don’t want to force them on you,” he said. “But I think that you should be more aware of our feelings in this and behave - y’know - properly.”

That familiar anger stirred in the pit of your stomach.

“Okay, Luke, I behaved just fine -”

“Really?” he scoffed. “Getting naked in front of a guy on your first date with him is fine behavior?”

You could have screamed.

“Oh my God,” you sighed. “Let’s get one thing straight, okay? I can do whatever the hell I want. This is my journey, it’s my body, and whatever I decide to do with it is up to me and not subject to your approval.”

“Y/N, I’m just trying to help you,” he said gently. “I prayed about it, and I feel like my purpose here is to save you.”

“To save me?” you questioned.

“You’re being led astray by these other men,” he said. “But together, we can -”

“Okay, Luke, stop,” you said. “We’re not getting into theological arguments today. Clearly, it doesn’t matter to you that I don’t want to hear it. The other thing we need to address is why you lied about Joe and Ben.”

“I didn’t lie,” he insisted. “I know what I heard.”

“But none of the other guys heard it,” you reminded him. “And if they said it out loud, they said it to someone with ears, so they must have heard it. Just be honest and tell me why you did it.”

“I know I heard that conversation, Y/N,” he said firmly. “I’m not a liar.”

“So literally every other guy in that house is?” you challenged. 

“Y/N, please,” he begged. “I love you. I want this more than anything. And look at what we’ve overcome.”

“Luke, we haven’t overcome anything!” you cried. “We’re still working this out because you’re not being honest with me!”

“I’m telling you my truth!” he returned. 

A beat passed in uncomfortable silence.

“Do you believe me when I say that I love you?” he asked.

You held his gaze. Then you took a deep breath.

“No,” you said heavily.

He looked away, unable to form words.

Ben: I’m kind of nervous about today. She’s kept him around long enough for me to think there must really be something there that I’m not seeing. I just hope my connection with her is stronger.

You and Luke returned to where Ben was still waiting. Nothing else had been said. You grabbed Ben’s hand and led him away next, desperate for some relief. Luke made you feel like every step of this process was such a battle. Ben excited you, and you hoped he still did.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Okay,” you said. “I’m sorry to put you through this, I know it’s not easy.”

“No worries, love,” he said. “You’re worth all of this. Every part of this journey.”

You smiled, and you felt warmth returning to your body. You realized within seconds of talking to Ben that Luke made you feel cold and closed off. Ben made you feel warm and open. That was the feeling you were looking for.

“How are you?” you asked him.

“I’m perfect, now I’m with you,” he replied. “I’m not going to lie, watching the other guys going out with you throughout the week isn’t easy, but I’m here for the long haul. I’m ready to stick it out if it means you and me at the end.”

You leaned into his chest and hummed happily. He wrapped his arms around you. Then he pressed his lips to the top of your head. You felt cared for and respected.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I was that you believed me last week,” he said. “Knowing that you trust me, and you’re willing to hear from everyone, it makes me fall for you all the more. You’re fair and kind and patient. I dunno how you put up with the lot of us.”

You giggled and then looked up at him.

“Well, you’re all so handsome, it’s hard to stay mad at you,” you teased.

“I see,” he joked back. “You’re just in it for the eye candy.”

“Haven’t you heard?” you asked sarcastically. “I’m actually looking for a trophy husband.”

He chuckled. “It’s almost hard for me to joke about, since I actually like almost everyone.”

You smiled. “Really?”

“You’ve got a fantastic group here,” he said. “As heartbroken as I’d be if it’s not me and you, I know you’d be in good hands.”

“That’s so sweet, Ben,” you said. 

You felt such a soft affection for him in this moment. That comment made one thing abundantly clear to you: Ben wanted only what was best for you, whatever made you happiest, even if it wasn’t him. You wondered how he’d never been in love before, when he gave it so freely and selflessly. Your value to him did not hinge on your behavior with the other men.

You chatted with Ben a while longer, just trying to forget about what Luke had said. Plus, you liked Ben a lot and enjoyed talking to him. It was quickly becoming more than liking him, which scared you a little, but you knew he would be there to catch you once you fell. You were still teetering on the edge.

Your decision was made when you returned to where Luke waited. There was no need to give him any more chances. You didn’t trust him anymore, and you had such different beliefs, it never would work out. You sat down and picked up the rose.

“I’m gonna be perfectly honest and say that this was not a very difficult decision for me today,” you said. “So far, this has been the easiest decision I’ve made.”

You looked at Ben and decided to get right to it.

“Ben, will you accept this rose?”

You heard Luke suck in a soft breath as you and Ben stood up. You pinned the rose on him and hugged him tight. Then you looked at Luke.

“Can I walk you out?” you asked.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, still dazed.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Ben.

You and Luke walked together toward the car that was waiting to take him to the airport. Ben heaved a relieved sigh and sat back down with a wide grin on his face.

Back at the house, Joe was closest to the door when he heard it open. The producer was there to take the luggage.

“Guys!” Joe yelled. “It’s happening!”

The rest of the men rushed to the door to find out who it was. They watched with bated breath as the producer’s hand stretched out and grabbed Luke’s luggage. They all roared with delight and began jumping and hugging each other as the door closed again. Luke was leaving at last!

“Hold on, let me get champagne!” Gwilym cried, jogging to the kitchen.

They all followed him, still laughing and congratulating each other. Gwilym handed out the glasses and Joe stood on the counter to make a toast.

“To Ben,” he said. “For getting that f***er out of here at last.”

“To Ben!” the others echoed before taking a drink.

“And to Y/N,” Rami said. “For making the right choice.”

“Y/N!” they cried, and they all downed their drinks.

Back on the date, you walked Luke to the black van waiting for him. You stood outside the door to let him say something. 

“I just…” he trailed off. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” you said. “We’re just too different. We have different beliefs, different values. And we couldn’t move past those things.”

“But I love you,” he said.

You shook your head. “I don’t think you do. I think you love the woman that you want me to be. The version of me that you created who does take part in your faith and share that with you. But that’s not who I am.”

“I…” he lost words again.

“I really am sorry,” you said. “I hope you find that person.”

“Thanks,” he said dully.

You opened the door for him. He slid into the seat. You closed the door and watched the car pull away. You were certain you had done the right thing. Luke was so wrong for you in so many ways. But you meant what you said. You were sure that girl was out there somewhere for him. But he was not for you.

You hurried back to Ben and leapt into his arms when you saw him. You kissed him as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“It’s just you and me tonight, baby!” you cried. 

“Thank God!” he returned.

That night, you and Ben went to a fine restaurant and had a wonderful dinner. It was similar to your one on one, where the conversation flowed. You talked about serious things and lighthearted things. Neither of you brought up Luke again. Ben looked as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

After dinner, you walked around nearby and saw a street performer playing the cello. The melody was soaring and beautiful. Ben spun you into his arms and began to sway with you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood with him, heart full. He opened his eyes to meet yours.

“Y/N, I’m falling in love with you,” he said simply.

You saw how much he meant it in those beautiful green eyes of his. Tears welled up in yours. You were no longer teetering. You slipped right off the edge.

“I’m falling in love with you too,” you returned, without thinking.

You were not supposed to say “love” to anyone but the person you got engaged to, but you didn’t feel bad about breaking the rules for Ben. He had shown you today how much you meant to him. And he meant that much to you too. If you weren’t with him at the end of this, you wished only for him to have a happy and fulfilling life. You genuinely hoped he was at the end of this though because you weren’t ready to let him go. You weren’t sure you ever would be.

The following day, you once again decided to cancel the cocktail party. You knew where your heart was, and you didn’t want to drag out the whole night when your mind was made up. So when you arrived at the hotel, you were ready.

The hotel had a lovely ballroom on the first floor where you were having the rose ceremony. You walked in and forced a smile. This was going to be a pretty tough one. Two men would be leaving that you really liked.

“Sorry again for the cocktail party,” you said. “But I really am just trying to follow my heart.”

You waited a beat before picking up the first rose. There were only four.

“Joe,” you called.

He walked forward proudly.

“Joe, will you accept this rose?”

“I will.”

He returned to the group. You picked up the next rose.

“Taron,” you said.

He beamed at you and jogged up.

“Taron, will you accept this rose?” you asked with a smile, since his was contagious. 

“Of course.”

You pinned it on him and he walked back over. You saw Richard take a deep breath.

“Richard,” you said.

He exhaled before walking over.

“Richard, will you accept this rose?”

“Always.”

As Richard returned to the group, Chris Harrison walked out.

“Y/N, gentlemen,” he said. “This is the final rose tonight. When you’re ready, Y/N.”

You picked up the rose. You found the man you wanted to give it to.

“Allen,” you said.

You saw the relief wash over him as he approached you.

“Allen, will you accept this rose?”

“I certainly will,” he assured you.

He walked back over to the group. Mike and Kenny looked dejected, and you understood why. It was never easy.

“Kenny, Mike, I’m sorry,” Chris said. “Take a moment, say your goodbyes.”

They took a while to say goodbye to the guys, which did sort of make you feel good. You liked that the remaining men were friends.

Kenny came up to you first.

“I’m sorry,” you said, suddenly choking on the words. You weren’t sure when the tears started. “You deserve so much -”

“Don’t, Y/N,” he said gently. “It was a pleasure getting to know you.”

You nodded and he pulled you into a hug. 

“You’re gonna be amazing,” he whispered to you.

With that, he left and headed to the car waiting for him. Mike came up next. You actually sobbed. Mike was such a wonderful man, and you hated that you weren’t there with him.

“I’m so sorry,” you sniffled.

“It’s okay,” he assured you with a smile. “You’re beautiful and strong, okay? I know you’ll find your happiness.”

“You will too,” you replied softly.

He reached over to wipe away a tear with his thumb.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

He too, departed.

The remaining men moved forward to engulf you in a group hug. While you were sure of the decisions you had made, you hated to hurt people, and both Kenny and Mike had told you they were falling for you. But you couldn’t get there with them, and it was terrible. They were great guys. You just knew they weren’t right for you.

“So,” you said, fanning your face a bit. “Next, we’re going to -”

“Y/N!” someone bellowed from the lobby of the hotel.

Your brow furrowed. 

“Is that…” you trailed off, eyes going wide with horror.

Then he appeared in the doorway of the ballroom.

“Luke!” you cried. “What are you doing here?!”

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said, marching toward you.

His body language looked dangerous. Joe was closest to you and you reached for him. He immediately caught on and wrapped his arms around you, placing himself between you and Luke.

The other men stood in front of the two of you, not allowing Luke any closer.

“She sent you home, Luke,” said Richard darkly. “You can’t be here.”

“I just wanna talk, Y/N,” Luke said, ignoring Richard and trying to look around him. “Y/N, please! I just wanna work this out!”

“Well, I don’t!” you returned. “Just go!”

“I know there’s something here!” he insisted. “There’s gotta be! Don’t give up!”

You peered at him around Joe’s arm.

“No, there isn’t!” you shouted. “You’re scaring me, Luke. Just leave.”

He moved forward, but Ben placed a hand on his chest.

“Not a step closer,” Ben warned.

“Just stay out of this,” Luke spat. 

“She asked you to leave, Luke,” Allen said. “So go.”

“No, I’m not giving up,” Luke said. 

“Oh, my God,” you whispered into Joe’s chest. “Oh, my God.”

Joe lowered his lips to your ear. “Don’t worry. We’re not gonna let him anywhere near you.”

“This is just crazy,” you went on. “He’s acting crazy.”

“Y/N, please!” Luke continued to plead.

Chris Harrison at last approached, accompanied by security guards. Chris went directly to you.

“What do you wanna do, Y/N?” he asked. “Do you wanna talk to him?”

“No!” you insisted. “I want him to leave!”

“Okay,” Chris said. He turned to Luke. “Luke, it’s time to go.”

The security guards stepped toward him, but he stepped away.

“Wait!” he pressed. “Wait, Y/N - just - please. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me here. That’s the only way I’ll believe it.”

You met his gaze with a scowl.

“I don’t want you here,” you said venomously. “Get out.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging. Then, he straightened up, turned on his heel, and stormed out. You hoped that was the last you ever saw of him.

“You alright?” Joe asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” You looked at Chris. “He did actually leave, right?”

He nodded. “We made sure of it.”

You took a deep breath.

“You wanna tell them where we’re going next?” he asked.

You let yourself smile, even though you were still a bit shaken.

“Yeah,” you said. You addressed the men. “Guys, we’re going to Killarney, Ireland!”

Allen whooped and pumped a fist in the air. You laughed. You knew he’d be excited to be back home in Ireland. But the rest of the guys seemed excited too. You gazed at them in awe. It was hard to believe that you had already narrowed it down to seven guys. Seven incredible guys. You couldn’t ask for more.

That night, as you packed in your hotel room, you heard a knock at the door. For a moment, you feared Luke had come to speak to you again, but you told production you didn’t want him near you. Still, you peeked through the peephole before answering. The man behind it took your breath away. You thought your eyes were playing tricks on you. It couldn’t be! Could it?

You opened the door apprehensively.

“Jamie?”

To be continued…

[adrenaline-roulette]

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader)  Word count: 7k+ Warnings: Language, angst, minor original character death, grief, mentions of illness and treatments, stress, breakdown, drinking, drunk, stealing, Four is redeemed! *Disclaimer, here we are, the first briefing  for who the Ghosts new target will be! This chapter is dark, I’ll warn you now, and I would dare say the next few chapters will be angsty too! Though if you’re all very well behaved, then maybe we’ll start getting some fluff and maybe a bit extra going on between Four and Eight.... Read Chapters One, Two, Three and Four first (Or don’t? I can’t make you do anything, after all I’m just text...) 

Chapter Five: I need a Doctor

“I am the fairy king! Bow to me or you shall die!”

You stare up at the shouting blonde stood atop One’s trailer, the fairy lights you had purchased weeks earlier were now coiled around his body, now no longer producing the beautiful glow they once had. Up until a few minutes ago, the lights had been plugged in and twinkling away merrily, that was until Four had somehow gotten himself tangled up in them. He then decided that the shining bulbs suited his alter ego of ‘Fairy King’ quite nicely and had proceeded to race around base with them on, only pausing for a few moments when he realised, they no longer lit up.

The rest of the team were either asleep, or trying to sleep, you knew for a fact that One was in the latter category, as he had screamed at the top of his lungs “Stop fucking tap dancing on my roof!” The moment Four had begun parading around on the trailer.

You want to tell him to stop, but considering you were the reason he was so highly intoxicated right now, and that you were only one or two drinks away from being on his level of drunk, you find that it really isn’t your place to tell him off. “Oh, powerful fairy king!” You call out, lowering your torso in a sloppy bow, keeping your head tilted up so you can watch Four closely. He was teetering on falling over, which if it weren’t for how close he currently was to the edge of the trailer, then you wouldn’t think anything of it. “Your majesty, perhaps we should move this conversation to more sturdy ground?”

Four wobbles on unsteady legs, his face growing pale as he backs away from the edge of the trailer. For someone who spent most of his time jumping from skyscraper to skyscraper, it was rather comical to see him afraid of what would only be a short drop. “That is an excellent idea my loyal subject, now help me down please!”

You’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to help Four down, but it likely shouldn’t have gone this way. Skipping over to the bus, a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s sloshing away in your hand, you pause just beneath Four, waving up at him with a cheesy grin, before extending your arms in front of you, with the plan of catching him. Without even so much as a pause, Four leaps off the trailer and into your waiting arms. Anyone who wasn’t currently shitfaced would’ve seen that this was a terrible plan, and that it wouldn’t end the way you both expected. However, being shitfaced as you were, it took you more than a few seconds to comprehend what had happened. One moment you were standing upright, and the next, your entire body had been slammed into the ground bellow, a heavy weight pressing against your front. “Ugh, fuck…” You groan, blinking bleary eyes down at the mass that was slowly crushing you.

Four looks up at you, a lopsided grin brightening up his entire face. “ ‘As anyone ever told you that you’re very comfortable?” He mumbles, speech slurred and slow.

“Can’t say that they have.”

“Well, you are.”

Four lowers his head down, cheek resting against your chest as his eyes flutter closed. You want to protest; this man was five foot eight and made of pure muscle! Yet your aching body began to relax, as you heard tiny snores escape the Brit. As you allowed yourself to drift off, ignoring how you were sleeping on the ground, your mind started to wonder. ‘How had this man, who you had shared no more than five consecutive words with at one time, gone from being the person you avoided at all costs, and now to the person you got piss drunk with, and allowed to fall asleep on you?’

*****

“Briefing room, five minutes!” Seven called behind your closed trailer door, not bothering to knock, knowing full well his voice could be heard clearly through the thin metal that was your trailer. You’d just finished your morning routine of; wake up, drink coffee, go for a run, drink more coffee while you updated yourself on the happenings of the world on your laptop, eat breakfast, have a ten minute internal battle over whether you should go back to bed or not, in that time drink a third cup of coffee, ignore Five’s suggestion of perhaps not ingesting so much caffeine, shower, then return to your trailer while your hair dried and go through the building blueprints One had sent you.

Slowly, you stood up from your bed, stretching your arms above your head after having sat hunched over for too long. You close your laptop, then set about searching for a sweater to throw on over the top of your shirt. Outside, the base was stifling hot, yet for some reason, the briefing room was perpetually freezing. One always insisted on turning on every single fan in the shipping container, and it was just too much! After the third team meeting there, you had vowed never to return without a sweater. Finally, you found the one you were looking for, dark gray with a red #mood splattered across the chest. The sweater itself was perhaps one or two sizes too large, but it was warm and snuggly.

You made your way towards the briefing room, slipping the sweater over your head when you were halfway there. As you pull the material down your torso, you fail to realise that you’d put the garment on backwards, coming to an abrupt halt when you notice that the hood was over your head, completely obscuring your face. Behind you, Four silently leaps from the roof of a shipping container, walking up behind you as you struggle to readjust the sweater. “Oh yeah, you should wear all your clothes like that. Prove to everyone that you’re as stupid as your role in the team is.” He snarls, pushing past you, knocking his side against your shoulder.

You can feel your eyes roll, trailing behind Four as you both head towards the meeting “You know, at first it was kinda intimidating, the whole, ‘you don’t belong here’ schtick. But really, now it’s just sad. You don’t have to feel threatened by me, Luke never felt threatened when he discovered Leia could use the force too! As a Skywalker, you should know better than to allow your emotions to cloud your judgement.” There’s a grin clawing at your lips, which you no longer bother to hide, picking up speed and walking past the scowling blonde. If you had looked back you would’ve seen Four raise his eyebrows in surprise, not having expected you to talk back. Quietly, he was actually rather impressed that you had, even if in doing so you had continued with the Star Wars trend.

*****

“Doctor Genevieve Lushnick, for twenty years she has worked as a general practitioner in a family owned GP clinic, and if she has it her way, will continue doing so until retirement. However, over time, her remedies have become more extreme. She stopped prescribing antibiotics to help fight infections, and instead would recommend her patients undergo unnecessary surgeries.” One begins, displaying images of the Doctor on the screen at the front of the room. Just the sound of her name makes you sick to your stomach, a sweat breaking out on your forehead, though no one seems to notice.

“This is Doctor Gregory Lushnick, Genevieve’s husband. He, is the surgeon who has been performing the procedures, along with a well-paid, and unethical team of doctors and nurses. Genevieve will suggest the surgery, telling the patient that it is a matter of life and death, she will then refer them on to Gregory, who will of course agree with her course of action. The patient, who at this point has been warned if they aren’t operated on soon, they will die, will pay an exuberant fee, any amount the Lushnick’s request, which they then pocket for themselves.”

Three lifts his brows at the information they had all been presented with. “How have they gotten away with this? Surely they’ve had patients who know at least a little bit about general health, who know if a procedure they’ve been recommended is necessary or not?”

One nods, folding his arms across his chest while gazing out over his team, all with an equal expression of shock and disgust. Except for you, who looks on the verge of tears. “That actually happened a few times. A Doctor went and visited Genevieve after hearing about the outrageous number of procedures she had recommended. He went in complaining of an ingrown toenail that had become infected, which he did in fact have at the time, but was treating it himself. Genevieve took one look at it, and informed him that the infection was too far gone, and if they didn’t remove his toe urgently, the infection would likely spread, and perhaps enter his blood stream. He asked for some further testing to ensure Genevieve was correct, to which she obliged, and sent him to pathology to have blood taken.”

“Yeah, but if he got blood tests then that’s it right? Game over? The tests would prove that there’s nothing wrong with ‘im.” Four interjects, leaning his hip against the edge of the table everyone was stood around, taking care to watch you from his peripherals.

“In a normal situation, then yes, you’d be correct. But this isn’t normal, nothing about the Lushnick’s is normal. The test results came back in, and of course, they read perfectly, no deadly infection obviously. But the convenient thing about living in the modern age we do, is that all test results are sent through electronically. All Genevieve had to do, was edit the results, and suddenly, her patient was suffering any ailment she wished! When she presented the results to him, and he played along, saying he would organise the procedure shortly. Instead, he went to the Minister of Health, and presented his findings. The Lushnick’s found out who he was, and what was happening and fled the country. No one knows where they went, so they escaped punishment.”

“Alright, so they fucked off somewhere else, but they’re not hurting anyone, anymore right? So how does this affect us?” Seven shrugged, One’s eyes boring into his.

“I know exactly where the Lushnick’s are. They’ve been performing their surgeries in secret for a few years now, but they’ve moved on to more desperate patients, and are providing more extreme remedies. Rather than patients finding her, Genevieve is seeking out her own patients, the one’s who are unable to afford a visit to the Doctor’s surgery. She’ll play nice, offer them a free consult to ensure they’re all healthy, then she’ll drop the health bomb on them. These people are so afraid, that they will believe anything Genevieve tells them, and will do anything to get the money needed for their life saving surgery.”

Your hand grips the back of a chair, while your other presses flat against the wall nearest you. Your head is swimming, memories flooding back to you in a tidal wave. Heart racing so fast you think it’s about to explode, all the while sweat drips from your skin. No one notices, no one cares. They all have questions that need answering.

Four notices though, how could he not? For weeks now, he had done nothing but watch you closely, always checking to make sure you were safe, and not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger. If you were going to stay with the team, and it looked as if you were, then he would keep an eye on you from a distance. He may not be your friend, but that didn’t mean he cared any less, not really.

“What kind of surgeries are they doing now?” Five asks, her hands resting on her hips.

“Similar to what they used to suggest, only now more extreme because they have a more desperate clientele. From what I could find, the most chilling was what she and Greg did to a fifteen year old boy. He was complaining of shortness of breath, and if he had been seen by any other Doctor, he would’ve been diagnosed with mild asthma, and given an inhaler to use. But Genevieve instead informed him and his father that he had a potentially life-threatening lung infection.” One pauses, a frown creasing his features as he looks over at you, your skin having grown pale and your eyes unfocused, you looked about ready to collapse. He pulls he gaze away for a moment to finish, though his eyes continue to dart back over to you. “The boy underwent surgery to have an entire lung removed. His father paid nearly twenty thousand for his son to have the surgery. Two weeks after the procedure, the boy died.”

A chocked sob rips from your lips, causing everyone to focus on you, six pairs of eyes staring you down. They all either thought you were crazy, or just overly emotional over the death of a kid you didn’t know. How could they know the truth, it’s not as if you had ever told anyone? “Eight? Are you alright?” Five asks slowly, reaching a hand towards you just as you step backwards.

“Hey, sit down for a second kid…” Three offers, gesturing to the chair you had just released from your vice like grip.

“It’s the sweater, she’s probably just over heated.” Four shrugs, though even with his air of indifference, his eyes are clouded with worry.

Another sob followed by your nose sniffling. Were you crying? When had that started? You bring one hand up to your face, your fingers shaking the entire time, until they press against your cheeks, only to pull away a second later damp with tears. Lips are moving, but you don’t hear any of the words that are spoken, there’s a ringing in your ears which is too loud to ignore, and it drowns out everything other than your internal voice. The expressions the Ghosts wore changed from that of curiosity and caution, to full blown panic now as it dawned on them, that you truly weren’t alright. Just as One walks over to you, you spin on your heel, racing away from him and the team. You’re vaguely aware of people calling out after you, but you don’t turn back.

You throw yourself into the gray McLaren which had unofficially become your car, after the driving display you had given a few weeks ago. The engine revs as you try to clear your mind enough to decide on where you were going. Should you be driving in the state you were now? Probably not. Were you going to anyway? Definitely. Were you more than willing to run over Four who now stood between you and the exit you wanted to take? Without a doubt. Pressing the tab on the door, the window lowers at what felt like a comically slow rate.

Four had sprinted after you the moment you left, and was now trying to decide what his next move should be. Behind the car, he could see the others grouped together, all unsure of what to do, just like him. “Either get in the fucking car or move. You have ten seconds or I’m driving through you!” You bark out of the window, providing him with the motivation required for him to spring into action.

The passenger door slams shut, with Four diving in just milliseconds before you slam on the gas, the car fishtailing for a moment, before flying through base. Four stares dead ahead, his mouth slightly agape, while you glare at the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles had turned white. When you had given Four his options just before, you had never expected him to pick the first, and from the looks of things, neither had he.

 Silence fills the speeding car for twenty odd minutes, your eyes locked on the road ahead, while Four was staring out the passenger window, his elbow propped up on the centre console,  while his other hand was resting with his fingers pressed to his lips. You felt as if you were being strangled in the silence, but neither of you were prepared to break it, both too stubborn to admit defeat, and voice your curiosity. Reaching one hand out, your hover above the power button for the stereo, taking your eyes off the road for just a second.

Oh, how things can change in one second.

The car had been travelling in an undisturbed straight line down the freeway, though all of that changed in a heartbeat. With your eyes focused elsewhere, you never saw the massive pothole looming ever closer to the McLaren. Just as you look back at the road, your eyes fall to the dip in the road, something that you should’ve avoided at all costs. Your barely functioning brain kicks in at the last minute, and just as one of your front tyre’s dips into the pothole, you spin the steering wheel, attempting to keep your remaining tyres from hitting the hole too. It was too little too late however, and instead of avoiding the pothole, the car spins out, flying off the edge of the road and skidding along the red dirt uncontrollably.  Your shriek is the first sound to pierce the silence the entire drive, and it seems to be what snapped Four out of his shock.

Four reaches out, taking the wheel in one hand, attempting to straighten out the cars path, while his other hand wraps around the handbrake, pulling it up with all his might. The McLaren spins for another few seconds, until coming to a halt, a cloud of dust having been kicked up by the erratic tyres. “Jesus Christ Eight! What the fuck was that about?”

You can’t answer him, your words are choked in your throat, and refuse to budge. You unclip your seatbelt and bolt out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition as you sprint away from both the car and Four. Why was he here? Out of everyone that could’ve blocked your path and jumped into the car, why did it have to be fucking Four? He didn’t give a shit what was going on with you on a regular day to day basis, so why the hell would he care about this?

Where were you even running to? You were in the middle of nowhere, and all that was around you was desert and the highway. There was nowhere for you to run to. As this realisation hits you, you stop dead in your tracks. Heart pounding in your chest. Clenching your fists at your sides, your drop to your knees in the middle of the desert, titling your head back, and screaming gutturally towards the sky, as fresh tears flow freely down your cheeks now.

*****

Four had never seen someone lose control as you were doing now, he’d seen his fair share of people in pain, screaming and crying over the death of a loved one or because they were in pain. But this, it felt different to him. Watching you collapse to your knees, he felt his chest tighten, and his own breath hitched in his throat. Your scream rumbled through his entire body, and echoed around the empty sky, there was nothing around for miles that would block your screams. He didn’t know what else to do, so he grabbed the keys, pocketed them before jogging over to you.

“Hey… Hey, it’s okay – You’re gonna be okay.” He whispers, kneeling beside you now, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso. He was sure that if it weren’t for the vulnerable position you found yourself in, that you would never return his embrace as you now were. But you did, your arms circling around his neck, as you pressed your face against his shoulder.

“Any other target… It could’ve been anyone else.” You cry out, hot tears splashing against his thin t-shirt. Four tightens his grip around you, slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, and guiding you down with him. You follow him down, and he half expects you to break out of your emotions when he settles you against his lap, though that never happens.

He rubs soothing circles against your back, listening for the sounds of your cries to ease, before he finally asks. “What d’you mean Eight? What’s wrong with the target?”

You shake your head, pressing further into his shoulder, as another body shaking sob overtakes you. Your mind is swimming in horrifying memories, and all you want to do is to claw them out of your brain. You want to forget; you need to forget. “Eight, look at me… Talk to me.”

Four rests his hands on both of your shoulders,  gently guiding you away from him so he could look you in the eyes red rimmed and now puffy, though your tears had slowed at the very least. “Hey – Hi…”

*****

You blink across at Four, sniffling as you attempt to clear your thoughts. Why did he suddenly care what was wrong with you? For weeks now, he barely spoke a word to you, when he did, it was always something snarky or sarcastic. There was never any care for your wellbeing, so where had this all come from? “Hullo… I’m sorry. Please, just forget about that. I’m sorry.”

You move to pull away from Four, but his large hands on your shoulders tighten their grip, and you honestly just don’t have the energy to fight against him. “I’m not going to forget about this. Talk to me Eight, what happened back there?”

“What happened? I lost control of the car, it spun out. Happens to the best of us.” You shrug, opting to play dumb for a little while, just to see how far you would get with doing so.

There’s a fierce glare that settles over Four’s eyes, and you can feel a physical chill run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to be stupid. We both know you’re the furthest from stupid a person could possibly get.” Four breathes out deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, before opening them and reconnecting his sight with yours.

You’re not sure which is more likely to occur first, your heart stopping entirely or for it to literally explode under the amount of stress you’re experiencing right now. “It’s the Lushnick’s. I – I know them. Or at least, I did know them.”

Four stills his movements, where he had been drawing tiny patterns against your shoulders, he no longer seems able to do even that. “What do you mean you know the Lushnick’s?” His voice comes out strangled, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was worried about you.

“Doctor Genevieve, the clinic she worked in was local to my family when I was little. When I was around five, I had a babysitter, Kellie, she would look after me every afternoon after school, and some weekends. She would’ve been around seventeen, and at the time was my best friend. I didn’t get along with the kids in my class, so I turned to Kellie, she was always there for me, and I loved her like a sister.” There, that was the easy part to talk about. You could just leave the story there, but really, you know you couldn’t do that. You had given away too much to stop now. “Every afternoon, she would walk me home from school. On the walk, we would pass by the clinic where Doctor Lushnick worked. One afternoon, when we were heading home, Kellie started to feel dizzy, I remember she was struggling to walk, and I was worried. I left her on a bench, and ran to the Doctor’s clinic. The receptionist grabbed the first doctor she could find, Genevieve, and we all ran to Kellie to help her.”

“Fuck Eight, I’m sorry –“

You cut Four off before he can say anymore. “Let me finish. There’s more to tell, and I can’t stop now.” You pause for a moment, waiting to see if he had anything else to say, but clearly he thought better than to speak up again. “Doctor Lushnick performed heaps of tests, I remember she kept sending Kellie for more and more blood tests, x-rays and ultrasounds. Always telling her and her family that the results had come back inconclusive. It must’ve been around two weeks, until Kellie was given her diagnosis. Heart failure. I don’t remember much of what happened after that, there was a lot of adult conversations had that I wasn’t made a part of. What I do know though, is that Genevieve sent Kellie to have a heart transplant. Kellie was terrified, I can still hear her crying, begging her parents not to make her go through with the surgery. Her parents didn’t want her to have it done either, but Genevieve and Gregory made it sound as if it were her only option. They told Kellie and her parents that without the surgery, she would die.”

Tears had returned to your eyes now, and Four pulled you subtly closer to him, not enough so you were embraced as you were before, but enough that you could feel his warmth soaking into you, and hear his steady heartbeat. “Kellie had the surgery, and was recovering relatively well.  She was in the hospital still so the nurses could keep an eye on her while she healed. After school one day, I lied and told my parents I was going to a friend’s house, and that no one needed to pick me up until later. Instead I went to the hospital to visit Kellie. I had gone to see her twice after the surgery, and both times she had seemed alright, at least in my eyes she did. This third time though, when I got to her room, everything was different. She was pale and sweating, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. There was no one else in the room for me to get, so I pressed the call button from the side of her bed, and in came running nurses and doctors.  No one really explained to me what had happened that day until I was older. And it wasn’t until I was much older, did I realise truly what had happened, and with the information One gave us today, I knew for sure. Kellie was never supposed to have had that surgery, her body underwent unnecessary trauma, which it couldn’t heal from. Doctor Genevieve and Gregory Lushnick murdered my best friend.”

Suddenly, you were pressed against Four’s chest, as your felt tears stream over your cheeks. He held you firmly, his warm embrace was one of comfort and peace, two things you had never associated with the man. “When One was telling us about what they had done to others, I just couldn’t stop the memories from coming back, everything I felt back then, it all came rushing back to me.”

“It’s alright, fuck Eight. I’m sorry, I am so sorry. I wish there was more I could say..”

You gulp, before looking up at him, your eyes scanning over his handsomely chiselled face for the very first time. In the time you had been with the team, not once had you had the opportunity to look at Four up close, and of course this would be your first chance. While sitting on his lap, crying your heart out, as you both grew more covered in dust. “Promise me we’ll make them pay. Promise me that we’ll get them both, and that they won’t get away.”

Four allows a deep breath to flow from his parted lips, the lines on his forehead smoothing as he takes in your words. “I promise you, they won’t make it through this alive.”

*****

Allowing Four to drive you both back to base had likely been one of the best decisions you had made in a long time. Despite the panic and anger which had clouded you before, now faded to a dull shadow, you were still shaky, and your concentration was easily lost. Four driving truly was the safest option, if you both wanted to arrive home in one piece. “Can we stop in town?”

Four glances at you for a moment, retracting his hand which was resting on your knee. The entire drive, you would find Four resting his hand somewhere on your leg. To you, it was grounding and comforting, serving to remind you that you weren’t alone. It let you know that someone else on the team understood your connection to the targets. For Four however, you weren’t sure if he was doing it out of habit, or for comfort too. “Sure, what do you need?”

Turning to look at his side glance, you allow a tiny smile to tug at the corners of your lips. “I desperately need a drink. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like, but I’m sure you’d rather forget that this all happened.” You shrug softly, before turning to look back out of the passenger window.

Four’s eyes grow wide at your comment, and he finds himself at a loss for words. “I- You- What?”

Pressing your forehead against the window, you take a deep breath in, before blowing out through your mouth, fogging the glass up in the process. “I appreciate you following me out here today, I really do. But, let’s be honest, we’re not friends. You hate me. You’ve made that perfectly clear since the day I arrived. So, while I’m happy to extend the invitation of getting piss drunk with me, I’m not expecting you to accept.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Hate you… I’m sca – Way too sober to have this conversation right now. But put it this way, I don’t hate you.”

Four focuses back on the road, while his words swirl through your mind. ‘Scared? Was he about to say he was scared? Scared of what though? He always seemed so grounded, almost as if nothing could touch him, let alone hurt him…’ On the drive away from base, you hadn’t paid any attention to where you were headed, not really. All you knew at the time, was that you needed to get as far away from everyone as was humanly possible. Which is why it came as a surprise to you when Four pulled into a small town, not the one you had visited with Two and Five a few weeks ago, but an entirely different one which you had never known to exist. “There’s a liquor store just up that side street there.” Four observes, while pointing to the left of the town, where sure enough, there was an opening in the path for the side street.

You nod, climbing out of the car, just as Four lowers his window and the passenger side window. “I’ll be back in a few. Want anything?”

Four shakes his, carding his fingers through is windswept curls. “Thanks, I’m good.” It’s said with such a firm edge to the words, that you know the conversation is over, before it really began.

As you walk down the street, you look back over your shoulder at Four and the McLaren. His wrists are wresting on top of the steering wheel, as he picks at his nails, clearing them of the dirt that had gathered there from earlier. Music was pumping through the speakers, and you could see the car shaking with the intensity of the bass Turning the corner, the liquor store comes into view, a small bell chiming as the door pushes open. A man, likely in his forties or fifties is stood near the cooler section, collapsing empty beer boxes.  Looking at the few shelves that lined the wall nearest the register, you feel a lump rise in your throat. In your haste to leave base, you hadn’t brought anything with you,  no phone, no wallet, no money!

“Can I help you with anything?” The man calls from the opposite side of the store, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Just looking thank you!”

The man squints at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hope you’ve got some ID kid…. You don’t look old enough to be buying anything from here…”

Your jaw drops at his words, a scowl marching across your features. How dare he question your age, suggesting you weren’t old enough to drink! You had never been ID’d before now, and now that you were not only dead, and still waiting on One to present you with your fake ID’s. But you didn’t even have your bloody wallet with you, where said fake would be kept, this was the time, of all times where the world decided to turn against you and start questioning your age? “Of course I have ID with me.”

The man watches you for another moment, as if assessing whether he could trust you or not. With a final huff, he bends over and picks up a box of beers, pushing the cooler door open and heading inside to restock the fridge shelves, clearly having decided you were trustworthy. Oh buddy, wrong decision.

Maybe it was because of the shithouse afternoon you had just experienced, or maybe it was because you were sick and tired of people making assumptions about you. No matter the why’s, you found yourself snatching bottles of Jack Daniel’s, Malibu, and salted caramel vodka. Without a second thought, you cradled them against your chest, then bolted for the front door.

“Get back here you thief!” The man screams after you, having re-emerged from the fridge just as the door swung closed behind you.

This was wrong, so fucking wrong! It was one thing to steal money from a stranger’s bank account (Granted that stranger then went on to fake your death, and now was your employer…) Or to work from afar and have people do the dirty work, while you reaped the benefits, they did the snatching and grabbing, you just made sure they didn’t get caught. But this? This was you stealing, with no one else there! This was all you!

Your feet pound against the pavement, the McLaren coming into view just as the store clerk sprints after you. “Open the fucking door Four!” You shriek from the top of your lungs, praying to any deity who may listen that he will hear you over the pumping music.

Despite your thieving tendencies, someone answers your prayer, and Four looks up and over to you through the open passenger window, his eyebrows shooting up into his hair line as he spots you sprinting at full speed towards him, three bottles clutched in your arms, as a pissed man follows close behind. He leans across the centre console, pushing the door open before returning to his seat fully and twisting the key in the ignition. With the sound of the door slamming shut behind you, he throws the car into reverse, getting you both the hell out of town! “What the actual fuck Eight? What did you do?”

You stare down at the three bottles, now laying by your feet, rocking back and forth as the car moves. Laughter bubbles from your chest, and you can’t help the burst of chuckles that rip through you. “I didn’t have any money…”

For a brief moment, you could’ve sworn you saw Four grin, though the look is soon replaced by a sigh. “And you didn’t think to come and ask me if I had any?”

“Do you have money on you?”

“No… But that’s not the point! Your first instinct was to steal what you wanted!”

“Are you seriously telling me off for stealing? Sorry, last I heard, One met you after a robbery gone wrong.”

Four’s grip on the wheel tightens for a few moments, before his knuckles relax somewhat, tension visibly leaving his shoulders. “Now we’ve gotta find a new liquor store.”

*****

Walking through base, you felt everyone’s eyes on you, all boring down on you, as if thinking if they stared long enough then they would understand what had happened to you. There’s a part of you that wants to explain yourself, and to reassure the team that you are in fact, not insane as they may now think. However, before you even have the chance to consider explaining yourself, Four is dragging you by the hand towards your trailer. “If anyone needs us, don’t. Just don’t fucking need us!” He calls out behind you, gripping the bottle of Malibu with such intensity your genuinely worried he might smash the glass.

Four’s warning seemed to have worked, at least for the time being, and you watched as the Ghosts all shuffled away, back to whatever they had been doing before your arrival. One stays out for a few moments longer, arms folded across his chest, and both eyebrows raised in confusion. You can see the questions he’s dying to ask dancing across his eyes, mixed with a look of what could only be described as, understanding. You don’t take the time to dwell on One, as you’re far too preoccupied with Four who had swung your trailer door open, and was pushing you inside and up the steps, his hands pushing against your lower back to keep you moving.

Four followed you up, placing the Malibu on the small table opposite your bed, while you plonked down on the bed, the bottles of Jack and vodka falling to the foot of your mattress. “Right, you stay here as long as you need to. Drink, get smashed, scream, cry. Whatever you wanna do.” His broad shoulders shrug, as he turns away from you, and steps back towards the door, resting both hands in his front pants pockets.

Quickly, you twist off the cap of the vodka, the strong scent of salted caramel filling the air. “The offer still stands. Only this time, I’d like you to join me…”

Four turns on the spot, looking back at you in surprise. “You sure?”

“Yes, I – I want you here with me please.”

There’s no need to ask him a second time, though you would’ve if necessary. Four reaches out and takes the vodka from your outstretched hand, bringing it to his lips and taking a deep swig. Just as you do the same with the Jack. “Cheers to your first mission briefing.” He chuckles, his crystalline eyes sparkling in joy.

You roll your eyes up at him, as you move further back on the bed, leaning your back against the wall. “Let’s try not to make this a tradition yeah?”

“It’s been five seconds, and you already hate drinking with me enough to never want to do it again?”

“That’s not what I meant. The drinking, I’d be willing for the to be a tradition.  The whole, me running away from base thing though? Yeah, let’s not do that again.”

Four nods, his curls swaying under the gesture, before he takes another swig, savouring the sharp after burn the vodka left in the back of his throat.  You crawl up off the bed, and shuffle over to the small, mint green radio that was set up towards the back of the trailer, fiddling with the dials before it decided to pick up something other than static. “I won’t let that happen again… You won’t be hurt like that again.” Four breathes out, though the words are drowned out by the functioning radio.

“Fuck! I love this song!” You squeal, turning the volume up to full, dancing to the blasting music.

“Seriously, Kesha? Out of all the music you could love, it’s this?”

“Don’t be an ass. This is my trailer, and my booze, I can and will kick you out if you’re not careful!”

“It’s stolen booze, so technically, the shop still owns it, not you….”

You don’t really think about your next move, all you know is that one moment you were drinking from the bottle of Jack while dancing and being sassed at by Four, and the next, you had grabbed one of your multiple decorative pillows, and had begun attacking him with it. Four grabbed his own pillow, and retaliated in kind, swatting you left right and centre, all the while attempting to not spill either of your drinks. And thus started the great pillow war of 2020.

*****

You don’t know what time it is, there’s a gentle stream of light washing over you as you carefully peel your eyes open, though a set of curtains over the window make it impossible for you to see anything else, other than the suns rays. Lifting your arms above your head, you stretch your aching body, before finally giving in and opening your eyes fully. It takes far too long for you to realise something was wrong. This was not where you had fallen asleep, quite the opposite actually. You know for a fact you had fallen asleep outside, in the dirt no less, with Four using you as a pillow. Yet somehow, you were now alone, in a strangers bed, inside a strangers trailer….

You sit bolt upright, your stomach instantly churning at your sudden movements, you blanch at the taste of bile as it rises in your throat, swallowing it back down. Slowly, you look around the trailer, finding nothing familiar in the small space. “Four?” It had to be his home… You had been inside everyone else’s trailer, but never his.  With a great deal of care, you pull yourself off the bed, pressing a hand over your eyes for a moment, as you feel a wave of dizziness wash over you. “Four? Hello?”

Looking around, you find no trace of him, or at least nothing that pointed to his whereabouts. You pass by a mirror as you walk towards the door, and you take a moment to assess your reflection. Your hair was knotted, sweaty, and had flecks of dirt tangled in it, there were deep set bags under your eyes, and overall you looked, and felt like death. Though all that combined, you still felt better now, than you had yesterday during the briefing.

You allow the trailer door to swing shut behind you, spotting a determined looking Two, marching across base and headed to the rec room. Was there another meeting this morning? Had you slept through the announcement, and Four couldn’t be bothered to wake you up? There was no time to think over the millions of possibilities as to what had happened, all you know, was that if Two was storming off somewhere, it was likely the best course of action would be to follow her.

Four Eighths Taglist (If you want to be added just let me know!) @not-the-cleavers​ @jinxfirebolt18902​ @sj-thefan​ @softnorris​ @dear-vista​ @mixer2b​

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Chapter six out now!

[ladybugsfanfics]

Shut Up And Kiss Me [10/?] | Tom Hiddleston x reader

pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

style: part 10 of ?

wc: 2.8k

warnings: pining, halloween, bad references, 

summary:  You and Professor Hiddleston have been colleagues for many years now, and through those years the hatred for each other has only grown. Now, as a new school year starts, you’re being told that you have to share a classroom or a class. Neither are happy about the outcome, but knowing you’ll never come to an agreement, you let the class choose for you. Team-teaching is rare in 2019, but it is a lot harder to do when you can’t stand the person you’re doing it with. 

A/N: so I have a part this week, but I think I might stop the weekly updates. A lot of things are going on at once and I’m not sure I can get out a part a week. I think I might be able to get out a story or an update of a story each week but I don’t think much more than that and I have so much other shit Im working on that I want so share with you guys. I let you know of my decicion, and i hope you enjoy the part ^_^

If you want to be tagged, please send an ASK ^_^

Previous | Series Masterlist | Part Eleven

Since Friday, Tom’s mind has been set on the kiss. It has been set on the kiss in the bar. The one in the shadows where no one could see them and his heart pounded in his chest. The one where afterwards, so certain that Y/N just wanted to because she wanted to have some recollection of it, he had stood up and walked away as if it meant nothing. 

Even though it meant everything. 

He can recall every minute of it. Every second of what happened before and after is drilled into his brain after countless reenactments. 

The slight fear in her eyes as Benedict smiled and told Tom what he needed to do to jog her memory. The way she downed two shots in a matter of seconds and then shook her head a little as if it would get the taste away. The burn of his hand as she took his in hers, the touch scorching hot. The nervousness that floated in her beautiful eyes as she told him what was going on. The way his gut hurt when his lips met hers. The way his skin heated under her touch. The fireworks that erupted in every part of him, rooted in his stomach but exploded outwards into his veins. 

He remembers it all. And it felt just as hurtful as the kiss during the play. 

Tom got to kiss her twice, both times with the knowledge that, for her, it wasn’t something with feelings. It was something she had to do, and something she wanted to because she didn’t remember the first time. 

---

As Tom rings the doorbell, he vows to kill Benedict when the night is over. Not only does he have to wear a costume, he said yes to going trick or treating with the kids. Kit and Hal will make fun of him, so will Benedict and Sophie. 

At least, when the door opens and Y/N stands there in a costume, he feels better about it. She’s wearing a wine red, short dress with gears placed neatly around. The corset accentuates her waist, and the fingerless gloves makes her her arms look longer. Tom’s gaze stops at her legs, where she’s wearing kneehigh boots and flashing  a lot of skin. 

Tom’s heart drums in his chest and he has to tell himself not to stare. His gaze travels up again, which is when he notices the tophat. Gear-goggles placed neatly atop it, giving the steampunk vibe Tom supposes she’s going for. 

“Didn’t know you were coming?” she says and lets him in. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

“The same to you,” he replies, “Benedict didn’t mention it.” 

Y/N smiles. “You won’t see much of me though. I’m going trick and treating with the boys.” 

“I thought I was going trick or treating with the boys?” 

Y/N’s brows crease. She doesn’t reply, only closes the door and walks into the living room. Moments later, Tom hears her annoyed tone as he follows after. She’s standing in front of Benedict, voice low but annoyed. “We agreed. We had an agreement.”

The older man shrugs with a smile. “I can’t recall that. When did we make this?” 

Y/N gives Benedict a playful punch in the arm and glares at him. She moves from him, glare still set on Benedict, and sits down by Kit. With one last glance at the kid’s father, a glare Tom is very glad he’s not on the receiving end of, she smiles and turns to Kit. 

“I honestly don’t understand how you can actually enjoy having her hate you,” says Benedict when Tom stops next to him. 

Tom shrugs. “It’s not too bad.” 

His best friend sends him a look.

He sighs. “It wasn’t that bad. Currently I wish things were slightly different.” Tom shakes his head. “When did you ask her to go trick or treating?” 

“Saturday?” 

“So, same time as you asked me?”

Benedict nods. “One adult per kid.”

Tom pats Benedicts back. “I think we’ll handle it.”

 ---

They walk down the street listening to Kit chatter. Tom holds Hal’s hand, the boy keeping himself a little ways from his brother’s constant talking. Y/N holds Kit’s hand, listening intently to the words the four year old says and smiling fondly at him. Something about the way she seems to beam whenever he does and replies to his talking as if the boy was her age, it makes a smile creep into Tom’s features. 

He tries to push down the extra sense of fluttering in his gut, but it’s hard. He can feel the nerves shoot around, telling him that he needs to be alert and that every minute they spend together is a step further. Yet his mind contradicts this, showing every scenario where she doesn’t like him. There are many. 

Yet, seeing her with Kit, he can’t keep his mind from going that way. It shows him pictures of what she would be like with her own kid. It shows him pictures of her smiling and laughing as she holds a baby. It shows him scenarios of dates they go on, or just sitting on the couch cuddling with a movie. 

Tom takes a deep breath and diverts his attention back to the two kids running to ring the doorbell of a house. He stands next to Y/N as they watch the kids, racking his brain for some way to start a conversation. 

“Did you remember to say thank you?” she asks as the two boys return. He lost his chance. 

Kit nods and Hal shakes his head. Y/N smiles and shakes hers, too. “Remember to next house, okay?” 

The boys nod, and Kit goes back to his chatter. 

Most of the night continues like that. Whenever the kids go away and get some more candy, Tom racks his brain for a conversation starter, but whenever he’s close to one or about to ask her something, the boys return and Kit takes up her attention. 

To be honest, Tom doesn’t really know what to do. There’s something he would like to say that he won’t ever say, and there’s something he would like to ignore or have go away as soon as possible. Those are the same things. 

Even worse, during classes both on Tuesday and earlier Today, their students kept diverting the subject. They got to teach something, and then as it bordered territory, the students shot out with the questions they wanted to. 

It is clear that the kiss during the play did nothing to stop the students from ‘shipping’ them. Rather it made the whole thing even worse. And it hasn’t made Tom’s life any easier. 

The clock ticks away, and finally the words come from Y/N. “Okay, last house and then we make our way back, okay?” 

Kit looks a little sad at that, but still nods. Hal nod furiously and decides not to join his brother to get some more candy. Instead he turns to Y/N and holds up his arms, clearly asking for her to carry him. With a sad smile, she does. The two year old lies his head down on her shoulder and, if Tom isn’t mistaken, closes his eyes.

“I bet Kit’s just as tired, he just doesn’t want to show it.” Y/N turns to Tom, the smile on her face turned to something less sad and more soft. 

Tom nods. “Probably.” 

God, he spends so much time trying to come up with a conversation starter and when she does first he can’t even make sure the conversation lasts? He’s an idiot.  

Kit comes back with a smile on his face and hops right back into his chatter. Now he seems to include Tom in it. Though Tom only half listens, nodding at the right places and catching Y/N’s soft laughter whenever it slips. He smiles himself whenever her smile brightens. Her eyes sparkling, her lips parting showing off a set of white teeth, her cheeks a tint of red. 

And as his eyes travels a little further he remembers that she’s barely wearing clothes. He takes in more of the little things. Like the slight red of her nose, the press of her lips together as if to keep her teeth from clattering, the way she shifts a little as she walks. 

He steps around Kit, whos walks between you, and over to your other side. Shifting off his jacket he doesn’t say anything as he moves a sleeping Hal from your shoulder and places him in his own arm, handing you the jacket in the movement. Tom feels the wind on his arms as he’s taken off the warmth, but he also feels it in him that Y/N needs it more. 

She gives him a smile and mouths thanks. 

“I thought you don’t like each other?” 

Kit’s voice startles both of them, and Y/N gives him an amused smile. 

“Well, kiddo, sometimes, even if you don’t really like someone, you try to be a decent human being. And either way, we’re making it to friends now. I’d say we’ve gotten there, right?” 

The smile and look she sends Tom when she turns her head to see him has his heart beat faster. He wants them to be friends, so of course he nods. But he would like them to, maybe at least try, be more. He makes a silent prayer of that happening in the future. 

For now, he takes the friends. “Yes. It’s called making progress.”

 ---

They arrive back at Benedict’s around nine. Neither Sophie nor Benedict comments on the fact that Y/N has Tom’s jacket on, but if they believe he doesn’t see the look they give each other, then they are very wrong. 

During the hours Y/N and Tom went trick or treating with the kids, the two parents have managed to change into costumes themselves. Benedict is dressed as Sherlock Holmes and Sophie as a female version of Watson (at least, that’s what Tom presumes based on the costume contents). 

“Babysitters here?” asks Y/N as the two takes their coats.

“Came half an hour ago,” replies Benedict and hands her a coat as well. Something twists in her face for a second and she shrugs out of Tom’s jacket and hands it back to him, taking the coat Benedict hands her without hesitation. Tom supposes the one she puts on is hers. 

“Then we’re ready to go, right?” 

They nod and walk out into the cold evening air. A taxi waits on the curb and they all get in. Tom in the passenger seat in the front and the three others in the backseats. He finds himself happy with the choice seeing them crammed together. Yet something churns in his gut at the thought of being confined to a crammed space next to Y/N. 

He needs to get out of his head.

The trip to the bar takes little time. It’s being rented by one of their mutual friends (work) that decided it was time for a coworker Halloween party. 

Music floats in the air when they open the door inside. A bartender stands at the bar, or rather leans against the back. Only one person sits by the counter, but he isn’t ordering anything. There are some people on the dance floor, rocking out to Bohemian Rhapsody. 

Tom looks to his friends, notes that Y/N mimes the words to the song and also makes a silent conversation with Benedict about where to go. They find Eddie in the bar, though Tom can’t guess as to who he is. 

“Are you dressed as Newt Scamander?” asks Y/N, and when Eddie proudly nods and beams at her and continues the conversation by talking about Harry Potter and everything that has to do with it, Tom slides into a seat with a deep sigh. 

He wishes he’d dressed easier. Even with the costume being easily recognizable in what era of time, that doesn’t mean anyone will notice he’s dressed as Hamlet. Apparently, Y/N doesn’t. 

“Hey, guys,” says a voice. Tom takes his gaze of the chattering coworkers across from him to look up at the owner of the voice. He meets Emma’s gaze with a smile. Out of their many coworkers, Emma is one of his favorites. They don’t have that much time to talk, but she’s definitely has many ideas and interesting topics to talk about. 

Y/N, seeing the younger girl, gets out of her seat and gives Emma a big hug. “It’s been too long since I saw you. How’s the project going?” 

The sociology professor smiles and nods. “It’s really good. The students are engaged, I’m engaged and we’re making progress. A lot of progress. Wrote an article not long ago about equality that they posted actually.” 

“I’m so happy for you.” Y/N gives her another hug and looks like she just met her number one celebrity. Tom can see why. 

“Thank you.” Emma turns to everyone else. “So, I noticed you come in and I have some information about this ‘party’.” She uses air quotations around party. “The bathroom is up the stairs, the dance floor is where you see some dancing and the bar you’ve probably noticed. Fire escape routes are posted on the walls, but just for safety, it’s the door you came in and you can break through the windows. Also a fire escape on the second floor, so if you’re in the bathroom you can still get out. Other than that, there’s one free drink on me. Nothing over ten pounds. I hope you have fun and I love your costumes.”

Emma smiles at them all. Tom takes a minute to check her costume. A cloak of some sorts which hides a black sweater where small peeks of a white shirt pops out, with a red and yellow tie. She wears a skirt and her hair is curly and huge. Tom can’t pinpoint exactly who she’s being. 

Y/N can, though. “I love yours, too. Hermione, right?” 

“Knew you would get it.” She smiles. “Anyways, I hope you have fun and don’t hesitate to come talk to me through the evening. I brought some other friends and they don’t really know anyone so I’ll probably mostly be with them.”

“Your age, right?” asks Y/N. 

Emma nods. “You wanna meet them? Pretty sure you’d get along.” 

“If that’s what it takes to catch up with you, of course.” And then the two women walk away, making a detour by the bar before sitting down at a table with three other people. 

Neither of the four left at the table say anything, until Sophie breaks the silence by asking anyone if they want to get something to drink. Tom volunteers to join her in getting the drinks. 

“So,” says Sophie as they walk, her voice a little lower than for normal conversation. “What’s the deal with you and Y/N?” 

Tom rolls his eyes. “There is none.”

“Are you sure? Because Benedict told me about the kiss and that she doesn’t remember it, but he said she wants to.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and ignores the feeling that floods his veins. “They both mentioned it, yes. But I don’t think that has anything to do with it.” 

Sophie shrugs. “Seems like there’s more than one reason she wants to if you ask me, but what do I know?” 

Tom nods. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Sophie, but I can tell you that we are making progress into friends.” 

She smiles at that. “Appreciate it. Especially thinking of Hal and Kit, they love both of you and after that day you babysat Kit asked questions I would rather avoid.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She waves it away, but Tom still feels a little guilty. He casts a glance Y/N’s way. Her head is thrown back in laughter, a big smile on her face and when she recovers she speaks with glee and enthusiasm. He only notices that when she teaches, mostly other than those times she seems grumpy. 

He tries to ignore the stab to his gut, but it’s not easy. Either way, they’re becoming friends. He wants to be her friend. He’s always wanted to be her friend. Finally, he’s making progress. 

It only took five years, some hate, and a push from their superiors. 

It only took five years to glue the million pieces of his heart together. It’s still not whole, but it’s getting there. 

Finally.

permanent tags:@devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

tom tags: @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert @satanskatze @timetravelingsociopathicwalker

tags:  @plooffairy @just-the-hiddles @jennytwoshoes @lokissidehoe @fruitfly123 @princetale @scorpionchild81 @noplacelikehome77 @winterisakiller @lostsoldieronahill @nonsensicalobsessions @cherrygeek86 @louhpstuff @olyamoriarty @sunshinein17 @kthemarsian @kumikowi @secretcupcakekitty @buckygrantbarnes @josis-teacup @runawaygiirl @januarycalendargirl @funny-fangirl @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpiomindfuck  @dr-kayleigh-dh @inmyworstlies @twhgirl @maah-chan @florencia93c @i-am-a-mes @o-deya @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @cantaloupewatch @carpediem-spero @createdbyanintensenerd @beananacake @lysawayne @nightrose64 @bradfordbantams @feyre-thehighlady @thundermaximoff @lys-syl @beenthroughalot

[dirtyahs]

A Day Spent with Councilman Kai Anderson. (Part 3.)

hi friends!! I got another Kai request so i just decided to combine those prompt requests into part three :) 

Thank you @slytherinintj13 for the request! I hope you enjoy <3 (i forgot to include prompt #18 tho im sorry)

Prompts: “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” + “I dare you.”

Word Count: 2,778

People I think would enjoy this: @evanfuckingpeters @stellaholland @reaperprincess89 @whydonthumansfly

Warnings: choking, hitting, hair pulling, spitting, degradation, breathplay overall super rough kinky shit

You sighed as your hands moved through the racks of formal dresses, searching desperately for the right one. Just like most things, you put this off until the last minute and the council meeting was tomorrow night. You and Kai had been talking regularly since your last interaction and were getting closer and closer.

You found yourself falling asleep under a blanket with him, missing his touch when he got up to get more wine from the kitchen. You never thought you'd fall for someone as extreme as he is, but even though you disagreed with him politically, he was smart as hell and you admired his passion. Not to mention, the sex got better and better. He pushed your limits, but always respected your boundaries. You had never been able to find a partner that could be as rough as you wanted, but Kai did it with ease. Aftercare was a work in progress, but you expected that. He would awkwardly cuddle you for a few minutes, but soon enough get up to go work on something else. He was trying though and you did see an improvement. 

You had a few dresses slung over your arm as you made your way to the dressing room. You weren't exactly sure what Kai wanted you to wear, but you knew you wanted to tease him just enough. Maybe do a little harmless flirting to get yourself in trouble later that night. The first several dresses were terrible. They didn't flatter you right or just weren't as cute as you had initially thought. But after what felt like fifty different dresses, you found the one. It was black and velvety, thin straps crossing along the open back, low cut enough that it was tasteful, but still something that would drive your man absolutely crazy. You picked a pair of cherry red heels to match his tie and were on your way back to his place. You had been spending a fair amount of time there and he was surprisingly welcome of all of your things in his space. 

"I'm back!" You called into the kitchen, trying to hide everything you had just purchased - you wanted to surprise him tomorrow evening.

"How'd it go?" He gave you a quick smile before glancing at your bag.

"I found everything I needed." You grinned up at him, "But it's a secret until tomorrow." You smirked at him playfully, turning around to walk upstairs. He followed you, bringing his hand down against your ass teasingly.

"Why won't you just show me?" He whined, sitting on the bed you two had now gotten used to sharing.

"Because!" You started, "I just want it to be a surprise." You planted a kiss on his cheek, his hands instinctively trying to wrap around your waist. 

"I bought the sluttiest dress imaginable." You whispered to him, hoping he'd pick up on your joke. He did, pulling your body down on top of his.

"Yeah? Sounds perfect for my little whore." He growled, grabbing fistfuls of your ass with his words.

"Yeah, I'm going to flirt with all of the other councilmen, maybe show them how dirty I can be." It was fun to rile him up, it always made for extra rough, extra dominant Kai. 

“I dare you." He hissed, "See what happens." The day had gone by shockingly fast, and you had been in the bathroom for several hours. Kai was minutes away from breaking the door down and dragging you out by your hair, but you finished just in time. You took one last look in the mirror at your perfectly curled hair and "natural" smokey eye and smiled. You felt more confident than usual and you couldn't wait for Kai to see you.

"It's about damn time!" He huffed when he heard the bathroom door open, turning to face you, eyes immediately going wide.

"Perfection takes time though..." His tone changed quickly, his hands sliding over the velvet material hugging your hips.

"So this is okay?" You looked up at him, straightening his tie.

"More than okay. You're going to show up every old bat in that place." He smirked, making you chuckle. His young age had always been a point media tried to make to show his lack of experience. He had a high approval rating though. You thought it was because you'd convinced him to tone it down a bit, but he'd never admit that. You linked arms with Kai, him leading you inside the large, expensive looking dining hall. Everything was pristine and white, red and blue flowers adding pops of color on every table. It wasn't long before Kai had you two in the center of a conversation, mixing with other councilmen.

"Kai Anderson! It's great to meet you." An older man stuck out his hand for Kai to shake, giving him a big veneered smile. Kai responded with a firm handshake, immediately introducing you to the man.

This is my girlfriend, (Y/N)." Kai grinned, watching as you extended your hand also. You didn't have time to be shocked about him introducing you as his girlfriend. He'd never called you that before. You didn't think he had any interest in being completely monogamous, but that was going to be a conversation for later. This was your chance to get under his skin.

"It's so wonderful to meet you, sir." You flashed him a flirtatious smile, flicking your hair over your shoulder.

"Kai has always told me how much respect he has for a man like you." You gave him a sneaky look up and down, almost able to feel your "boyfriends" eyes boring into your exposed back. His hand met the skin on your back gently and you pulled back from the older man whose cheeks were now dusted red. "Beautiful girl you've got, councilman." He nodded before turning around to escape the situation. Never letting his camera ready smile fade, Kai leaned down into your ear, growling quietly,

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"You looked up with the best innocent doe eyes you could manage.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You couldn't help but flinch a bit when his hand tightened on the small of your back.

"Watch yourself..." He hissed, leaning back up to tower over you, his words sending a chill down your spine, the excitement rising in your tummy. The night went on, you continued flirting with the older men specifically, Kai's hands protectively touching your back the whole night. He continued introducing you as his girlfriend.You had been especially friendly to the councilman of a major city in Arizona, leaving Kai's side to bring him a drink, putting your hand on his shoulder when you talked to him, making sure your cleavage was perfectly visible. You could see the anger building behind Kai's eyes, constantly watching the clock to see when it'd finally be time to go home. The room had began to quiet and people started to fizzle out. It was down to you and Kai and a few other couples all sitting around a table.

"I think it's about time for us to head home." Kai said, linking his fingers with yours. Your heart was racing. You two said your goodbye's to everyone and you made sure to give a tight hug to the man you had been playing with earlier, Kai now visibly angry, forcing you to walk faster than you were comfortable with.

"I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing," He started, leading you outside without looking at you at all. "But the amount of disrespect you showed me tonight was unbelievable." He hissed, opening your car door for you still.

"Kai-" He cut you off sharply.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you when we get home." He growled quietly, closing the door a bit too hard after you sat down. The car ride was silent but you felt the heat between your thighs, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the harsh level of degradation you were bound to receive moments from now. Kai's jaw was clenched tightly, his knuckles turned white from his tight grip on the steering wheel. He pulled messily into the driveway, crooked as all hell.

"Get inside." He demanded and you weren't about to question him. You stepped out, heels clicking along the cement to the front door, walking inside before Kai. The door slammed so loud the walls shook. Kai's hand tangled in your hair, pulling you so your back was against the door.

"Do you think that was funny? What you pulled tonight?" He was yelling at you now, his free hand pinning your waist against the door.

"Kai I don't know what you're talking about." You choked out, but you knew damn well what he was referring to.

"Don't play dumb with me, (Y/N). Flirting with every man in that room? Bringing them drinks, hugging them before you left? You trying to whore yourself out to all the men with more money than me? As if I don't take good enough care of you?" His nose was almost touching yours now and his hands still held you tightly.

 "Kai-""Shut the fuck up." He hissed, his erection pressed against your leg he was so close to you.

"You're so fucking hot when you're mad." You smiled, watching his jaw clench once again, face turning red. He kicked your legs apart, hiking your dress up and touching your exposed core.

"So you wanted this? You wanted to piss me off." He hissed, "And now your pussy is soaked from me degrading you." In one sharp movement his hand crashed down against your cheek, a sadistic smile spreading over his lips.

"You want to act like a whore then I'm going to treat you like one. Get on your knees." You obeyed immediately, watching from the ground as he untucked his shirt and loosened his red tie, unhooking the clasp on his slacks, pushing them and his boxers down to his mid-thigh.

"Open." You did.

He smacked his cock against your tongue a few times, 

"You dirty bitch. You wanted to get me angry so I'd fuck you rough." With those words he forced his full length down your throat, making you gag immediately. 

"Oh what? Isn't this what my little whore wanted?" He hissed, pulling out only to slam down your throat once again, your eyes pinching closed to try and stop the tears from falling.

"Open your eyes. I want to see how pathetic and desperate you are." You listened, looking up at him as blackened tears fell from your waterline. He was fucking your throat now, snapping his hips forward rapidly.

"For such a dirty bitch your mouth makes such a good fuck toy for my cock." He was angry - genuinely angry. And it only aided to the wetness between your thighs. You gagged as he pushed balls deep, making him chuckle. One of his hands came down and pinched your nose so you couldn't breathe.

“I own you." He hissed, looking down at you."I own you. This mouth belongs to me, your pussy belongs to me, every breath you take belongs to me."

The tears were flowing now, your face was covered in watered down eyeliner, nude lipstick smeared over your cheeks. You tried to nod the best you could, watching his face twist with pleasure. What felt like several minutes had passed and he pulled from your throat and released your nose at the same time, making you cough and gasp, airways finally cleared.

"Get up." You looked up at him, fingertips shaking.

"Did you not hear me? I said get up, whore." He took a fistful of your hair at the top of your head and forced you up, making you cry out.

"You wanted this." Was all he said before tearing your dress down your shoulders, letting it pool around your feet, exposing your naked body, just in the red heels now.

"Get upstairs. I want you bent over the bed when I get up there." He shoved you forward by your hair and you nodded.

"Yes sir." Your voice was shaky. Your legs felt weak but you pushed yourself up the stairs, making your way to the bedroom and bending over the bed like he told you to. You left your heels on. Your breath hitched when you heard the door close behind Kai and he snickered to himself.

"So my little girl actually can listen." His hands slid over the curves of your ass, smacking firmly. You looked at him to see his tie in his hand now, shirt unbuttoned.

"Since you kept running your mouth tonight," He wrapped his tie around your head, "I don't want to hear you anymore." He tied it in a knot behind your head, gagging you to force you into silence.

"How are you feeling?" He teased, knowing you couldn't respond but you tried. A warped "good" came out of your throat and he chuckled.

"I'm going to change that." And he moved out of your line of vision. You knew exactly where he was though when he littered your ass with painful spanks, covering you in bright red hand prints. You cried out with every one, but it only made him laugh to hear your pathetic whines.

"Why should I fuck you, hm?" He hissed, running one long finger over your soaked folds.

"Please..." You tried, hardly audible with the makeshift gag in your mouth.

"Do you deserve it?" His hands were running over the burning flesh of your ass now, somewhat cooling the pain. You nodded quickly.

"You think flirting with other men makes you good enough for me to fuck?" His words cut through you, 

"The only reason I'm going to give you anything is to prove who you belong to. I'm going to fuck you stupid, bitch." 

He spanked you again, forcing more tears to fall from your tear ducts. "Understand me?" You nodded, your inner thighs soaked with your excitement. Your heart jumped when you heard him kick his slacks aside, followed by his shirt sliding down his arms and onto the floor.

"Regardless of you acting like a dirty whore, you're my dirty whore." He hissed before spitting between your thighs, sliding two fingers along your soaking wet folds. You whimpered but nodded, if you could speak you'd be begging for him to fuck you. You tried your best to grind your hips against him, trying to plead the best way you knew how in this situation. All he did was laugh before grabbing your hips to hold them steady before slamming every thick inch into your soaked pussy.

You arched your back, still managing a choked out scream even with the tie in your mouth. Kai gave you no time to adjust to him now deep inside you, but immediately began thrusting in and out with no mercy. It hurt, but in the best way possible and you didn't want him to stop. He was growling through clenched teeth, 

"Could any of those old bastards fuck you like this? Hm?" You shook your head in reply, fists clenching the white sheets beneath you.

"No sir..." You tried, but failed. You just about screamed when one hand pulled the knot behind your head, his red tie soaked with your spit falling out of your mouth.

"Talk to me whore, tell me what I want to hear." He took a fistful of your hair and pulled you up so your back was flush against his chest, his breath was hot on your neck.

"I'm sorry sir! I wanted to make you angry." You croaked, hands searching now for something to hold on to. "None of them could fuck me like you! No one could ever fuck me like you!" 

He smacked your cheek, smirking against your neck.

"Good girl..." He hissed, letting out a parched groan, suddenly spilling his load deep inside of you, each of you moaning in unison.

"I-I'm close too, sir." But with your desperate words, he pulled out of you abruptly, pushing you back down to bend over.

"You think you deserve to cum? After your little stunt?" He chuckled, watching as you collapsed onto your stomach, tears pricking at your eyes.

"Kai, I said I'm sorry." You whined, looking over your shoulder at him, he was shaking his head.

"Too bad princess, this is your punishment." He flahsed you a playful smirk and kissed your head, running his thumb over your cheek.

"Change and take this makeup off, I'll be downstairs with Netflix on. Maybe if you behave, I'll change my mind."