#i don't know what they do but from a complete outsiders perspective it feels like the race organisers sometimes get too much schtick
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velmalav · 3 days ago
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The Giver - Frank Langdon pt. IV
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masterlist
day one // night one // day two
night two - f.l.
synopsis: being the selfless person you are, you agree to travel to a 3-day conference with your biggest competition - dr. langdon. part 3 of I don't know how many yet :-)
warnings: cursing, oops there's only one bed, enemies to lovers, ANGST!!!!
Sometimes you just need to dance.
The gears in my brain haven’t stopped turning since I left Langdon in the lobby. Focusing in an academic setting has never been a problem for me; it’s when I thrive the most. Today was an exception. Notebook splayed open across my lap, pen clicked an excessive number of times in preparation, I kept reminding myself that I needed to take notes for Mel. Another task I’d been determined to complete to make me feel less shitty about making us late. And yet by the end of the eighth and final session, I hadn’t written one single word down.
This isn’t about the startling attraction I’ve realized I have for him; it’s the fact that somewhere from the airport to the hotel to the conference, I started to care about him. And it doesn’t make sense because he’s given me nothing to change how I feel. We’ve spent the entire trip arguing and avoiding each other. If seeing the man I hate naked one time is enough to alter my entire perspective on him, then I’m fucking doomed. And stupid.
But last night felt like we bonded. Yes, most of it out of spite, but somehow without noticing all these years, there’s always been a line to our games. We’ve never let it get in the way of our job and we’ve never actually hurt each other’s feelings. Until this morning. It took me crossing the line to find out there ever was one.
At some point, after waging war inside my head all day, my head started to pound. I was afraid to confront him, another thing I usually never hesitated to do. And so when a lovely ER nurse named Daisha made me aware of the mixer after the conference, I used it as a way to avoid the inevitable for just a little longer.
Theo, a senior resident like Langdon, also just happened to be another means of my avoidance. He was very forward, jumping from small talk to very transparent flirting to whisking me off to the dance floor. My entire aim of the night was to dance – my favorite coping skill – so I wasn’t reluctant to take his hand. In all honesty, it felt wrong. To dance with him. To flirt with him. I just don’t know why.
Well, at least I didn’t. Only half a song in, Theo’s arms around my waist and my fingers gripping into his shoulders, I lean my head back to shake my hair out. Just in time to spot Langdon pushing his way out. And it hits me. It’s the thought of him that’s making this feel wrong. I straighten up, pull away from Theo. He’s confused, trying to lean closer so he presumably can ask what’s wrong when I, like Langdon, start to push my way free.
I spin in Theo’s direction once I’m off the dance floor, giving a sheepish wave before booking it after Langdon.
.
The air is thick and filled to the brim with tension when I reach the hallway outside our hotel room. Langdon walks so fucking fast that he’s already comfortably leaned against the hotel wall, arms crossed with his neck craned upwards. His eyes are closed and by his expression, he seems to be in deep contemplation.
“Langdon,” I call out as I approach, holding up the key card he absolutely forgot there was only one of. His eyes drift open, but slowly, like he’s dreading my presence.
He’s silent, turns so he’s leaning beside the door. He avoids making eye contact. Having taken the hint, I simply unlock the door and let him enter first. Again, he does so without a word. But I can feel that whatever he was thinking about is laced with hostility.
Now that I’m alone with him, I have no idea what to say. Where to start. What to even bring up. But I have to say something, I have to cut this tension.
“Sorry about the keycard. I, uh, forgot to remind you that there was only one,” I say gently.
Standing on the other side of the bed, Langdon appears surprised by my words. I’m not sure I’ve ever apologized to him before. I never thought I’d need to or want to for that matter.
“It’s fine,” he says tightly, neck veins protruding and eyes fixated on everything but me. He begins to gather clothes to change into but there is no relief from his response. If anything, it’s starting to rile me up. I have a terrible habit of getting angry when I’m anxious, and I can feel it simmering underneath my skin.
“Langdon,” I repeat. It’s not a question but in the meek way I say it, it kind of sounds like one.
Nothing. Only the shuffling of bags can be heard. And fuck it’s hot in here all of a sudden.
“Listen, I know you’re pissed about this morning. And even though it’s hard to believe, I am actually really sorry. I should’ve woken you up,” I bite out, shutting my eyes. I’m fidgeting with the ring on my middle finger, awaiting the venomous response I’m sure will follow.
“Oh, you mean when you purposefully sabotaged my medical career? And then lied to my face like it was one of your games? Yeah, I’m still pissed,” Langdon snaps. His words are loud like he just yelled them right in my ear. I open my mouth to fumble out whatever I can think of, but he’s not finished. “And, yeah, it’s hard to believe you’d ever feel fucking sorry about anything. Especially that. Because all you’ve ever done is think about yourself, and it’s just fucking gross.”
Another line crossed. Seeing as though I was the first one to do so, I try and take the words in stride. But they keep beating in my ears like they’re on a timer. And instead of breaking down, my anger rushes in full force.
“Fuck you,” my voice scares me. Tears collect in the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. It’s those words that finally get Langdon to look at me. It doesn’t take him long to realize he’s taken it too far.
I toss my purse on the bed and start towards the bathroom, prepared to lock myself in there for the night. But just as I reach it, Langdon’s hand is yanking me toward him. It’s not aggressive but firm, and his other hand moves to rest upon the top of the door frame so we’re facing each other.
It’s clear he hasn’t thought about his next words because we stand there glaring at each other for what feels like hours. Both breathing heavily, unable to break eye contact. I speak first.
“Say whatever you want, but you don’t know anything about me,” I seethe. “All you see is competition, someone who reminds you of everything you wish you had. And you know what, maybe I don’t feel fucking sorry.” I pull my arm out of his grasp.
Langdon flicks his attention between both of my eyes, trying to read anything he can underneath the coldness of my stare. I’m hoping he can’t see the devastation lurking just behind it.
“All I see is someone I don’t want to know,” he breathes. His voice has lost its edge, a vulnerability breaking through without his permission.
“Wow,” I reply softly, matching his tone.
“Wow,” Langdon mimics, more incredulously. “Now why don’t you go find that dude at the bar and find a place to stay for the night?” out of all of the things he has said to me tonight, this is the sentence he says with the most aggression. Like we’re competing again. Because despite all of the reasons he could be upset with me, the sight of me with another man is what hurt him the most.
I’m not even sure he realizes what he’s just given away. Finally, the relief I’ve been begging to feel all day comes. And I start laughing.
Langdon’s face falls in confusion, still leaning toward me with his hand on the doorframe. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh, “You’re fucking jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” he states in a way that seems a whole lot like he’s trying to convince himself, too.
“Oh, we’ve said enough tonight. The least you could do is just admit it,” I push. “I mean, I knew you’d be mad about this morning, it was shitty, and I felt terrible. And maybe a little about the keycard. And I definitely know having to spend half your weekends this year at conferences isn’t helping either. But this mad?” He tries to interrupt, but I refuse to let him, holding up my hand in protest. “It all makes sense now. You saw me with that guy and now you’re fucking jealous.”
Langdon shifts uncomfortably on his feet, propping his other hand on the opposite door frame so he’s towering over me. He glances off past me, tongue swiping past his lips. He’s thinking hard about something. Then his head drops so I can only see the top of his forehead.
The silence is killing me slowly. My smile starts to fade in the thought that I might’ve gotten it all wrong. That he’s actually just pissed about this morning, and now I’ve made it all out to be one big joke. As he lifts his head, probably ready to lay into me again, I sputter out, “I-Frank, I’m sorry. I thought—”
Langdon’s hands drop from the doorframe, and within a second one hand curves around my cheek, the other gripping the back of my neck. My heart has just enough time to sputter once before his mouth is on mine.
My body relaxes into his touch like it’s second nature. I wind a hand into his side, jerking him closer until our chests are one. Senses flooded with only him, his touch, the sound of his uneven breathing, his smell. His mouth drags along mine, and I continue gripping him as to fight the moment we have to come up for air.
But it happens. We breath into each other’s mouths, reveling in the heat existing between us. Eyes shut; I prod at his lips with my own as if trying to find him in the darkness. His one tendril of hair grazes my nose.
“Fuck,” Langdon breathes. I open my eyes to be met with his immediately, harsh blue eyes penetrating me like I’m the first thing he’s ever seen. His eyes half-lidded, he dips down to rejoin our lips. With every second that passes, I crave more of him, wanting him so intensely I’m not sure my heart will remember to beat. I open my mouth, a wordless invitation to have more of me. We stay there, tongues competing against each other, a familiar dance that almost makes me laugh.
“So I was right,” I sigh into his mouth. “Definitely jealous.”
Langdon breaks the kiss, narrowing his eyes as his nose bumps against mine. “You are so fucking lucky you were, too,” he whispers, sending a tremor through my body. He gazes at my lips, temptation simmering in his expression. I anticipate more only for him to break out into a sinister smile. “Too bad we have an early morning tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to be late.”
Before I can protest or even muster of the courage to beg him to touch me again, he spins into the bathroom and shuts the door. And it hits me when the shower turns on. He played me – this is his revenge for me not waking him this morning.
A temporary truce, one that I know won’t even last through the night.
day three
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lurkingshan · 1 day ago
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I think the het couple in Heesu is fine (though I much preferred how the manhwa dealt with Heesu's feelings of isolation and the issue of being gay in a world where most are not without having a het couple). Honestly my biggest issue with them is how much time their sideplots take up when we could be spending that time developing Seungwon and Heesu's relationship. I just don't feel like for them being the main couple, they've really gotten the development and time spent together that they deserve. Again I could be biased since I'm coming from the perspective of having read the source material, which the show has deviated from at almost every step. But I just find it really hard to care about Jiyu's singing or Chanyoung's tennis issues. Especially when it feels like Heesu and Seungwon don't really have the same level of care put into their stories outside the other characters. Like I much would've preferred the time spent with Chanyoung's tennis issues to be spent seeing more about Seungwon and his Moms. Or just Seungwon and Heesu getting to be together. I feel like since the show invented the Jiyu/Chanyoung relationship and gave them much bigger roles than they had in the source material, they overcompensated in giving them all this sideplot that wasn't really necessary to the show and adds almost nothing of substance to it, while then cutting out or cutting short a lot of important developments between Seungwon and Heesu.
Hey anon. I'll be honest, I disagree with just about everything you've said here. I know it can be hard to be objective when you're coming in with a preconceived idea of what a story will be--whether that's due to an attachment to the source material or to BL genre conventions--and to get something completely different. But as a longtime kdrama viewer and someone who is decidedly not attached to the manhwa, I recognized what this show was doing from the start and I think it's done it all quite brilliantly. FWIW, I think this show is an example of a fantastic adaptation that adds a lot of depth and nuance to fairly simple source material, and I much prefer this version of the story.
Chanyoung and Jiyu get to be real and whole people in this story, not just props to serve the main ship. One of my longstanding issues with BL (and many het romcoms) is the way the other characters are often only there in service of the romance. They don't care about anything but pushing the main ship toward each other, and they are usually used just as comic relief or as the stand in for the viewers. That trope has its place, but I always like it when every character in a story is an actual person with motivations and conflicts of their own. Heesu has achieved that beautifully. Jiyu is one of my favorite characters this year, and that's not something you often get to say about women in BL. The friendship between Chanyoung and Heesu is such an important part of the story, and I also love that the show is unpacking the ways in which Heesu, and many forlorn piners before him, can lose sight of the good relationships they already have in their pursuit of the thing they think they want. Everything that happens with Chanyoung and Jiyu's romance supports the main narrative of Heesu's growth, he and Seungwon's relationship development, and the themes about how queerness makes things different for them. It's exactly what a good side couple is supposed to do in a story.
I also super disagree with the notion that Heesu and Seungwon are underdeveloped or haven't had enough screen time. First of all, when you consider that Heesu is almost triple the length of the average KBL, Heesu and Seungwon are getting more screen time than most KBL couples do, even if they are not the focus of literally every scene. They've been getting closer every episode and we've spent quite a lot of time with them separately and together. They are both working through their hang ups and fears, and the story is taking its time to let that play out organically rather than forcing it to go fast for the sake of delivering more romance tropes (another thing I often dislike in the genre). This is crucial not only so their development feels real and believable, but also because the queer couple having more obstacles to get on the same page is a huge part of the point. We have had the pleasure of watching Heesu slowly fall for Seungwon without even realizing it was happening, and now arrive at awareness but still have mess to wade through because Seungwon has been too afraid to tell the truth. It has been a fantastic love story from where I'm sitting, and I'm looking forward to the conclusion.
It has made me sad and pretty frustrated to see the vitriol many BL watchers have aimed at this show. If we want queer stories to reach more people, we can't reject anything that deviates even slightly from the BL formula. It's remarkable that Heesu in Class 2 exists, that it was given proper funding to develop a whole ass queer kdrama with great writing and acting and strong themes and great production values, and that it has executed its story at such a high quality level. I hope those of us who appreciate it for what it is are enough to counteract the hate being directed its way, because it would be a shame if it becomes the only show of its kind thanks to the backlash.
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ckret2 · 20 hours ago
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If you ever watched Hazbin Hotel..do you think Valentino has the same villainous characteristics as Aku (as they are both overlords and tall af cause Valentino is like 10 feet tall ) I'm planning to do a drawing of Aku in this mf's clothing and it just came to me in a vision
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I haven't watched the TV show yet, but I have watched the pilot.
So, my understanding of Valentino as a character is severely hampered by the fact that, like... i haven't seen the show. My knowledge comes from the pilot, a music video, angel's comic, the non-canon instagram accounts, and a bunch of posts i've seen other people make about the show (and the people i follow are more likely to talk about whatever the fuck vox & alastor's have going on than about valentino lol).
So take this entire answer with a grain of salt, because I may very well be just,, completely wrong about Valentino lmfao.
But: nah, I don't really think Val & Aku are very similar re: their villainy. Mainly because of the kinds of evil they commit.
Val is a very realistic evil—as in like, we encounter guys just like him all the time. He's an exploitative boss, he's manipulative, he's an abuser, he's a rapist. He controls people.
I read a good book recently (Terror, Love, and Brainwashing by Alexandra Stein) about the psychology of cults—from a perspective where a "cult" can be any size from "a single abuser and their victim/spouse" to "a dictator and the entire nation"—that argued the way cult leaders get people trapped and too mentally fucked up to escape is by inspiring them to simultaneously both fear and love the cult leader. If the cult leader makes somebody fear the outside world and love the cult leader, that's not enough, because the victim has a solution to their fear ("stay in the safety of the cult") and can still think clearly.
But if the cult leader makes somebody love them and fear them, suddenly there's no good solution: when you're in a scary life situation, you want to pull closer to the person you trust & love, but if the person you trust & love is also what you're scared of, this normal human instinct backfires and keeps you trapped in a state of fear without resolution where you can't think clearly and can't realize that the safest thing you can do is let go of the "safe" anchor you're clinging to. And, again, this psychology works at any scale, from couples to nations.
And maybe the show changed directions and I don't know it yet, but from the material I have seen about him, that's the kind of evil Val is. Angel's under his thumb because he feels like he has to stay close to Val (for love, for financial security, for safety) and Val's the only one he can depend upon, but he also feels constantly threatened by Val. The psychological torment of keeping someone suspended between love/terror is how Val maintains control.
And that kind of evil is all but foreign to Aku. He maintains control because he's immortal, superpowered, and can beat up anyone who tries to stop him, and has amassed enough of a fortune to pay other evil people to help him beat up people. People don't obey Aku because they both love and fear him; they just fear him, but can't do anything to him.
And that shows in the ways that he loses control over victims, and how easy it is to lose control. From time to time he tries to get good people to help him by making them promises he won't keep; but rather than using that as an opportunity to psychologically ensnare them, he does nothing about the fact that they still loathe him even when they feel compelled to obey him. And when he gets what he wants, rather than stringing them along with further promises, he goes "lol PSYCH i was never gonna hold up my end of the bargain you idiot"—and makes it very easy for his victims to decide to turn against him.
When he manipulates people, it's very blunt manipulation. "I'll just lie about who I am! I'll pretend to be [a hot chick/a weird swamp hermit], and then drop the act once I have what I want." There's no elaborate mindfuckery. There's no gaslighting. He doesn't try to mentally tear down his victims (aside from, like, calling them fools).
The closest we ever see Aku get to attempting Val's style of love/terror control tactics is when he tries to convince a bunch of children he's a good guy through fairy tales. And he sucks so bad at that.
The Daughters of Aku (the cult) convince the daughters of Aku (the daughters) that Aku's actually the good guy; but like, Aku himself isn't actually involved in that process. He might have no idea what the priestess teaches her victims. We can't give him credit for her work.
While Val's evil like an abusive boyfriend, Aku's evil like an arsonist who sets strangers' houses on fire.
All that said though:
yeah you should totally draw him in Val's clothes. he'd rock that pimp coat.
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oneminutefiftysixseconds · 2 months ago
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just got around to watching the algarve finish and HAH. but seriously everyone involved riders and crowd both were so lucky it wasn't so busy
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emiqip · 2 months ago
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Pt.2 Apocalyptic Ponyo AU ft. Shockwave and his menaces @keferon
If there was something you learned while living in the ugly, rotten and forgotten parts of the city your whole life, it was that trust was to be given away scarcely and returned fiercely. 
Damus learned this lesson fast. Abandoned beside a squalid garbage bin after his guardian couldn't afford to take care of him anymore- not that they tried in the first place anyway. Life got only more complicated from there: food and shelter were always scarce and had to be fought for, especially if you were a scrawny kid like him and had to tussle and shove middle-aged junkies daily, to be able to scavenge inside the most recent load of trash from the local shitty restaurant in hopes for some lukewarm scraps. 
And then years passed and he became less and less alone. Other kids joined him and life became just a tad bit more bearable. He slowly warmed up to them, feeling for maybe the first time the warmth of what could resemble a family, even if his was little and a bit broken. They looked out for each other: yes the older kids obviously held the most authority and weight out of all of them, but it wasn't unusual to see the twins putting on their best intimidating appearances and stand tall in front of any adult after they dared pick on one of their older siblings- he had seen the scratches and bite marks covering the poor soul who tried to steal Windcharger's lunch...
It had always been left unsaid, but it was clear they loved and cared deeply for each other- that sort of care that looked rough and jagged from an outsider perspective, but it was their kind of love and nobody- adult or whatever could ever have a say in this. 
But it was when you cared so intensely that even at the mere prospect of losing something so dear, your body and soul started betraying you.
He felt it when the apocalypse hit and now... as he watched Blue- young, naive and kind Blue, caged behind a massive wall of sharp teeth and even sharper claws, smiling happily, without a care in the world.
The beast followed the gaze of its small prisoner and finally locked eyes with the new arrivals. Sharp cat-like blue eyes curiously took in the presence of the remaining kids, with its mouth slightly open in surprise, the monster tilted its head and from its throat came forward a small melody of clicks and trills. 
Damus felt his heart sink. God, what did he do in a previous life to deserve this? When he caught himself moving forward on shaky legs, it was already too late. His brain was in overdrive. He had to get the kid out of this situation now. 
"...Blue, buddy, I want you to listen to me very carefully." His throat felt dry and the hands that were clutching his weapon were clammy with sweat. 
"Uh? O-okay." The younger kid briefly looked at his captor before returning his focus on his brother. 
"...walk slowly towards me and hide behind us." 
"What?! Dee I'm not in danger yeah I know Sir. Pancake can be a bit intimidating at first even I was scared but he patched up my knee with some sea moss I don't know how he knew how to do that but-" 
"Buddy please- just- sigh come here Blue!" He hated interrupting his littlest brother during one of his spiels, but now was not the right time. Stress and frustration began eating up at him from inside: why couldn't he see how dangerous this thing really was?! 
"No." 
Wait. 
"WHAT?" 
"I said. No."
Bluestreak huffed, crossing his arms in a pure show of defiance. "I'm perfectly safe where I am, you're being a jerk." To everyone's absolute horror the child lifted his right hand and patted one of the beast clawed fingers to prove his point- in return he got a quiet happy trill. 
"If he really wanted to hurt me he would've done so already and I'm not letting you shoot him." 
He hated to admit he kinda had a point. When the twins left the scene they left the two alone, leaving the youngest completely unprotected against a beast several times bigger than himself. If that thing really wanted to see them all dead, he wouldn't even be here to ponder the possibility. 
Oh for fuck sake, he knew where this was going. They were NOT going to adopt a random fish person. 
Were they?
 \\\
Well wasn't this quite the situation he found himself in? 
Honestly, he had been only searching for a place to finally experience some peace and quiet, away from the grubby hands of the Senate and, consequently, his very dear colleagues. If he had to speak with esteemed senator Tyrest again and entertain him as he blabbed away about 'Rectitude' and 'Order', while an impressive persistent piece of algae clinged on his front teeth- he was going to lose it and offer himself as lunch to the first frenzied monster he found. 
As he reached the surface he began to notice the utter and total destruction around him. Apparently a massive cataclysm had hit a few days prior, leaving the city in utter squalor- he wondered how many lost their lives in the wreckage. Wondering the landscape now engulfed by water. He passed what were once streets, houses and parks- ordinary places where people like his spent their time just... living. 
He wasn't unfamiliar with humans, of course: little hardy creatures, with a knack for destroying everything they came across, even themselves. But he would be lying if he didn't admit he came to favor them- oh, yes! Their utter lack of self preservation had wholly endeared them to him. How depressing things turned out to be. 
He let his train of thoughts race aimlessly as he finally let himself breach the water and slowly heave himself on a random slab of abandoned concrete, perfectly warmed up by the midday sun and he prepared himself to doze off to the calming lull of the waves around him...
A voice- oh no, a couple whispering voices reached his audial fins. They sounded young, very young, but he could not discern the meaning of their words. Too entranced by the new language he didn't notice that one of the speakers was getting quite close to his face, until he felt a sharp poke on his cheek that abruptly made him open his eyes and stand on alert. 
What came after happened too quickly for his still foggy brain to follow entirely: three small humans, most likely guppies, scrambled away from him. The two he presumed were the oldest sprinted as far as possible, while the runt of the bunch got his tiny final caught on a stray rock and fell miserably on the hard ground. 
The other screeched once more as they hurried away to who-knows-where, leaving him and their tiny companion alone. Surely not the best wake-up call he ever had but it can only go better from here, can it? 
A tiny whimper woke him up from his stupor as he once again focused on the small pile of human still plastered on the floor before him. Poor dear must have hurt himself, well that won't do. Slowly, gently he caressed the back of the little darling as he kept softly hiccuping- it was a shame humans skin wasn't as tough as his, it would prevent such inconveniences to happen, not that he blamed the little thing for his own poor biology, of course. 
"Oh sweetheart, it's going to be okay I promise. You're a very tough small fry, I've got you." He let himself coo softly like he heard parents do to their own off-spring. Still minding his own size and sharp points, he dared to nudge the guppy over and inspect the damage himself- turns out the little one had only grazed his right limb, nothing a small dab of sea moss cannot fix. 
As he tended to the guppy's injury, he witnessed the little thing's mood change completely: from an inconsolable heap on the floor to a lively chatterbox- even if the meaning still escaped from him, the constant stream of sound made for a pleasant background as he continued his ministrations. And anyway, the guppy was happy just talking his audials away, who was he to stop his fun? 
Once he deemed his work acceptable enough, he gently prodded the little one to stand beside him, close enough to cover him with one of his fins as a make-shift blanket, and keep him cozy and warm against the evening ocean breeze. Sleep crept closer to him once more, as he listened to his new small ward rant about this and that, while the last rays of the sun warmed his back. Content and at ease he felt his body betray him as he recognized a familiar pleased rumble start in his throat. 
He let himself relax further, knowing this far out nothing would dare attack him and his little guppy. However, he was pleasantly surprised when from the rubble emerged three more small humans. 
Well, he counted six unattended little ones so far- this was getting quite awkward really, who was leaving all these children lying around? They were clearly sporting some sort of weapons, he guessed- although he felt that was reasonably natural, considering humans didn't have any claws or sharp fangs to defend themselves with. 
He watched as the two parties shared a fairly animated conversation. These were most likely his guppy's little friends or... siblings? No matter really since they were all way too young to be wandering around alone in a place like this. 
It was final then! He ought to protect and care for these little ones, until they wouldn't need him anymore.
pt.3 !!
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newtkive · 1 year ago
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confectionary clash - carmen berzatto
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pairing: carmen berzatto x afab!reader (established relationship)
summary: carmy's girl is the human embodiment of a sweetheart. that is, unless it's that time of the month and richie provokes her.
wordcount: 3.2k
warnings: swearing, fighting, weaponized incompetence from richie but we still love him.
a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but turned into 3k words. so it's written kinda like a drabble?? (hence the lowercase i can't be arsed to change) but just... long. idk hopefully its entertaining. also, i don't mean to demonize richie, he's my favorite character i think,, i just love writing him as problematic lmao cuz he's so funny. anyways, enjoy!
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as carmy’s confidant and girlfriend, you were always the voice of reason. with just a string of words, you’d be calming him down after a hectic work day, giving him a fresh perspective on his work dilemmas since you were outside of the restaurant circle. in the time he’s known you, he hadn’t seen you do as much as barely raise your voice. maybe the occasional snap, but you always follow it up with swift apologies and big watery eyes.
that is, unless you’re in pain. specifically cramps. the sight of you 180ing from a sweet girl with a bright smile and even sweeter words, to an evil sorceress with spells rolling off your tongue, inflicting curses onto anyone who irritates you is jarring. a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s what you were during that time of the month—dramatic.
carmy tries best to dote on you. you would never ask him to go out of his way for something, unless it’s grabbing a heating pad or water, but carmy wants you to. it takes prying to hear your desires and cravings after asking a million times, and you begrudgingly give in with no expectations. nevertheless, you end up with exactly what you asked for, or something close to it, and you’re endlessly grateful.
on days when you stop into the restaurant when you’re feeling down, carmy enacts this same routine. if it’s food, he’ll cook it for you; desserts, he’ll grab any extras marcus has (or marcus happily makes it from scratch if they're not busy, claiming he needs the practice). if you want snacks, he sends his right hand man richie out to grab them despite your protests.
richie does it often whenever you stop into the store, and he acts like it’s a chore sometimes, but everyone has a hunch that he really loves it. come on, twenty dollars to get a few items for you and pocket the rest for himself? plus a break from work? done deal.
richie wouldn’t admit it, but he liked taking care of you too. you were always a sweetheart to him, but it wasn’t in his personality to be as sincere as you, so this was a little act of service to show his love. besides, the year and a half you’ve known him has definitely earned you the title of a friend, and you’d agree.
now, you don’t ever want to seem ungrateful, but when you ask for a specific treat, you get disappointed when you don’t really get it. maybe it’s the fluctuating mood talking, but you always end up snapping at richie due to his poor choices. if you ask for one thing, he’ll get you the next, and you even suspect he does it on purpose sometimes. pulling reactions from people is his specialty.
it’s not like you’re a complete bitch about it, because he took his time out to go get you something, but richie has a problem with weaponized competence even with his new and improved attitude. you know he can get you the jolly ranchers you suggested, but he chooses to grab goldfish because it’s closer to checkout. it was annoying, but you never really brought it up to carmy. it's not like you needed to, it wasn't a huge deal. you figured richie could use the little break, and you don’t hate the snacks he brings.
except on days like this.
you were at the restaurant on a slow day, dragged yourself out of bed despite your cramps just to see your little grumpy boyfriend and hide in his office. even as you entered the establishment through the back you glared at richie (who sweetly waved) in passing, side eyeing a few of the newbies who ran in front of you despite their apologies. none of your usual bright smiles and cheery greetings. the bee line straight to the office was a clear enough explanation for how you were feeling.
upon entering, carmy looked up in a panic, which quickly melted into a soft smile at the sight of his girlfriend. “hey, baby.” he cooed softly, immediately scooting back from his desk to reach out to grasp at your waist. you let him, but pushed down the irritation, not favoring touch at the moment. however, his rough hands sliding a little under your shirt to grasp at the flesh of your hips calmed you down, earning a small quirk of the lips from you.
“whatcha doin’ here, love?” he asks, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss softly, still looking up at you.
you shrug, squeezing his hand, face a bit stoic. you’d been like this for a couple of days so he wasn’t surprised by your lack of friendliness. knowing you this long, carmy became accustomed to your monthly mood swings, and he felt privileged that you didn’t feel the need to put up an act for him.
“missed you.” you finally sighed, scooting closer so you stood between his knees. palms found both sides of carmy’s face and tilted it upwards a bit so you could study his appearance. stressed and tired. however, he seemed to glow at the mere admission of you missing him. it took a few seconds for his brain to rewire, looking up at you like you created the cosmos. the only reason you heard his soft, shy, ‘missed you too’ was because of the stagnant silence.
“hungry?” carmy asked, beaming from the attention. you shrugged again, allowing him to tighten his grip on your sides and tug you onto his lap. whining a bit in protest, you reposition yourself, legs falling over his lap and arms around his neck. your faces were closer now, and carmy looked at your sad eyes with a little pang in his chest. brows furrowing, he tilted his head and snuck a hand under your chin. long, tattooed fingers tickled at your chin, and before you knew it you were giggling and grinning while batting his hand away.
“cmon, i know you must want somethin’.” your grin was infectious and laced in his soft words. you hummed, already cheered up, and tapped a finger against your chin to make a thinking face. carmy chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and patiently waited.
a thought crossed your mind and you met gazes again. “i might go grab some little debbie snacks from around the corner.” you decided and nodded to yourself as if solidifying your decision.
as you started sitting up more, carmy’s grip tightened on your waist. “ah, ah, no. stay here.” he protested. soon enough he was calling out ‘cousin!’ and richie came bounding over, opening the office door.
richie’s face used to contort in disgust at any visual sign of affection exchanged between you and carmy, but he was used to it now. “what’s up, cousin?” he asked, almost seeming out of breath, eyes flickering between the both of you.
a short exchange between the two occurred: carmy asking richie to run to the corner store, handing richie a twenty, and richie asking you precisely what you wanted. you made it simple and easy, something he could remember: oreos and ho-hos, a midwestern's guilty pleasure.
“ight, cap’n, i’ll be back.” richie says, saluting you two before heading out. both you and carmy exchanged an amused smirk, knowing the only reason richie went was to get himself some cigarettes and hot fries he would scarf down on the walk back.
__
in the twenty minutes richie was gone, the kitchen had gone to shit. the newbies had been running the wrong food to tables, online orders were filling the tablet nonstop due to a discount glitch, and carmy was close to losing it. sitting in the office, now alone with the muffled sound of your boyfriend yelling, you were more grumpy than before. arms crossed, you snapped your head to the side once the door creaked open. in walked richie with a plastic bag, inside of it holding your hope for a better day.
"what took you so long?" you frowned up at him, but sat up straighter in anticipation. you eyes almost shone as you looked at corner store logo on the bag.
"went the long way." he mumbled, digging in the plasic. the skeptical look on your face didn't leave as he pulled out an item and set it on the table. your frown deepened further as you noticed there was nothing at all you asked for, only met with a crushed sleeve of crackers.
“where are the oreos?” you sighed out, lips pursed in a bit of a pout.
“didn’t find any, so i got you some peanut butter crackers.” he mumbled, digging around the bag again, as if he didn’t just break your heart. if it was anyone else you'd believe them, but with richie you figured he just got bored of looking.
your jaw fell slack and you gaped like a fish for a moment, waiting for him to pull out more treats from his bag. but that time didn’t come, as he fished a pack of cigarettes out instead. “and the ho-ho’s?” your voice was hopeful.
richie perked up at that, putting the cigarettes down next to the crackers. the next second he presented you with a smushed mountain of brown and white concealed in a plastic wrapper sitting atop the palm of his hand. eyes flicking between the disappointment before you and his face, you frowned in disbelief.
richie only managed to emote as much as a ‘yikes’ face before placing it on the desk. “got smushed in transit, but tastes the same!” he gave his best attempt at a smile. your brows grew taut together and anger bubbled up in your chest. you were sure your face was quickly turning red.
“carmy gave you twenty dollars, and you come back with this?!” you hiss out, daring to look at the dry crackers and smushed up dream of a ho-ho. the sight only made you become angrier. this was something a senile old person would give you, not a competent 40-something-year-old man. his lack of care was clear, and you were boiling.
richie just scoffed—he had the nerve to scoff.
“no, not just that! i got a sprite and a few pack of cigs for myself and the guy.” he waved around one of them to prove his point. if you thought you were mad before, you reached a new level of anger. usually, you’d deal with the disappointment and thank richie for even going—aside from a smart alec remark.
however, the demon conducting your period for this month did not make your rational decisions seem clear nor enticing. as you shot up from carmy’s chair, you only knew you wanted to make richie as upset as you were in this moment.
with one finger poking his chest, you began raising your voice. as soon as you started talking, richie's eyes turned wide as saucers, exactly like a deer in headlights. a string of curses snuck into your tirade, between phrases such as “you always fucking do this richie!” and “are you fuckin’ dumb?! did you get dropped on your head?!”. you only figured he didn't fire back right away because he was so stunned.
outside of the office, the kitchen was calmer now. things were finally falling into order but still required carmy’s supervision until the sudden rush ended. the only disturbance was you. now, it was your voice yelling behind closed doors and not carmy’s.
the chef—in the middle of helping sydney plate a dish—just about gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around to look at the barely cracked door of the office. there was the telltale muffled yelling, but what shocked him was it was clearly you yelling.
turning back around, carmy gawked at sydney who silently shared the same look of surprise. it was only until they heard richie start yelling back that sydney silently pushed him toward the door. it didn’t take more than a second for carmy to snap out of his surprise and march over to the office.
throwing the hand towel he was using over his shoulder, he yanked the heavy door open before all but body slamming his way into the room and slamming the door closed. the yelling was suddenly clear, as if carmy was being pulled out from underwater.
“YOU GET ME WHAT I ASKED YOU, OR GET ME NOTHING AT ALL!”
“THEN YOU’D BITCH ABOUT THAT TOO—“
“OR NOTHING AT ALL!”
“hey, hey, HEY!” the two of you were too busy at each others throats to even hear carmy enter, until his voice brought you both to a halt, heads turning towards him.
carmy’s eyes were immediately glued to you, not paying the least bit of attention to richie. your arms were stiff as boards to your sides, fists and jaw clenched, brows taut, and race beet red. the man had never seen you look like this before, and his instinct to comfort you took over. turning to richie with a look that could kill, carmy finally spoke. “what did you do?”
“what did i do?! except take precious time to get your girl shit she didn’t even want?!”
an offended gasp left your mouth, and you retorted instantly. “oh please! because a crushed up sleeve of crackers and a mountain of mushed up cake is just what i asked for!”
“you’re ungrateful.” richie pointed a finger at you now. carmy launched forward and slapped it down. he knew richie would never hurt you, and you knew it too, as you just rolled your eyes in response, but carmy’s instinct’s took over. richie didn’t even look phased, just irritated. carmy stood in front of you and forcefully turned richie around by his shoulders to send him to the door. if carmy didn't have half of a sane mind, he would’ve kicked richie's bottom with his shoe for good measure.
“go take a break chef! or do whatever the fuck, i don’t care.” carmy shouted after richie, and the man left with a slam of the door.
you simply watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and that same deep set frown. carmy turned around to face you as the air settled, a hand running through his hair. blue eyes raked over your tense form and carmy decided he would give you a little space to calm down. however, the second he saw your bottom lip wobbling and eyes grow watery he threw that thought to the wind
“hey, no, no, don’t cry.” carmy extended his arms and collected you into them. the tense posture you held relaxed into his slouched form as he held you close; one hand in your hair, and the other rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled.
a pit of guilt burned in your stomach and spurred you into attempting to bury yourself into carmy. blue straps of his apron rubbed against your cheek as you shuffled impossibly closer. usually, carmy would love this, but right now he'd do anything to not see you so out of it. shushing you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
there were a few beats of you hiding away before you decided to pull back a bit to face him again—and boy did you look pitiful.
the same cheeks previously bright with anger were now flush with embarrassment and stained with tears. a tattooed hand found itself sitting on your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eye to collect a fallen tear. at the touch, your eyes fluttered closed, and carmy’s heart broke at the sight.
“you gonna tell me what happened?” your boyfriend asked, trying not to make you feel even more guilty. his full attention was on you. exhaling slowly, your eyes fluttered back open and were met with those bright blue ones that always calmed you down.
“i dunno, i just-“ you shook your head and carmy waited patiently, “it wasn’t even a big deal, but richie just really set me off for some reason.”
“yeah, may as well join the club.” carmen’s words were light, not at all sarcastic, but aiming to ease you and bring out a smile. it worked, your lips turning upwards and carmy mimicking the half smile. he looked down at you with such love, head tilted to follow every time yours moved, and thumb caressing your cheek as he took in every expression.
your smile finally faltered as you glanced back at the office desk. “i feel so awful. he went out and got me stuff and i just yelled at him.” you sputter out.
carmy followed your gaze over his shoulder to finally see what started all of this. at the sight of the crackers and ball of what looked like mush, carmy scoffs in both disbelief and amusement, because of course richie would bring you that. turning back towards you, the chef finally gets it.
“baby, if someone brought me that shit while my insides were shedding i’d kill them.” he chuckled.
“really?” you asked hopefully, smile forming again.
“yes, really. even if i wasn’t goin’ through that i’d actually kick his ass.” carmy mirrored your smile.
nodding, you let yourself chuckle along with him. strong arms found you again and you were wrapped in a tight hug, allowing his squeezes to take away some guilt you were feeling. a moment passed and you knew carmy had to get back to work. with a sigh, you pulled back.
it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek. guiding his face close, you met him halfway and pressed your lips to his in a kiss. lips moving against his, your noses brushed, and after a moment you let the kiss dissipate; lips slowly falling away from where they were molded together. one last peck was placed on carmy’s lips, as if saying, ‘thank you for being so attentive’. that earned an appreciate hum.
you both beamed, faces still close as you came back down to earth. “you gotta get back to work, and i gotta apologize.” you murmured and carmy nodded obediently.
with apprehension, carmy let you go, arms floating in the air for half a second as he walked backwards towards the door. “don’t go easy on him, though. richie lives for a fight. that was probably his anger management for the day.” carmy smirked, grasping the doorknob.
you just shook your head, eyes narrowed teasingly. before he turned to leave, you called out to him. “thank you, carmy.”
the man just gave you a confused look, chuckling. “don’t thank me, you're my girl.” with that he was back to work and you were left to your own devices. with one more glance at the monstrosity on the office desk, you left the room and went on a search for richie.
thirty minutes later, carmy was due for a smoke break and approached the back door. he slowed his tracks, lighter and cigarette in hand as he cracked the door and heard giggling. the sight before him was drastically different than before: you and richie sitting on a ledge next to each other, giggling and bumping shoulders. carmy breathed out a laugh at the sight and fully walked out. this caught both of your attention, grinning ear to ear as you clearly made up.
“hey, cousin!” richie grinned, and you both waved. figures.
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stclaretarot · 4 months ago
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PAC ⭒ YOUR NEXT MAJOR BLESSING
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reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.
BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!
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GROUP ONE
cards pulled · page of swords (reversed), five of wands, king of pentacles (reversed), ace of swords, eight of wands (reversed), temperance. 
channelled songs · dream merchant by the new birth. new axis by nct u. worth my while by manny norté. 
my dear group one ♡ what’s coming up may not feel like much of a blessing as, truth be told, it is a blessing of tough times and times of challenge. 
as this unfolds in your life, remember this one truth: “no rain, no sunshine.”
without difficulties and challenges, will we ever truly appreciate when things are easy? when things are going well? when things are falling into place? 
without these difficulties and challenges, will we even know what it’s like to be happy and at peace and content? whose to say, but i say no. i say we need the darkness and the misery and the pain to truly know light and happiness. to truly marvel in the blessings being showered upon us. 
so, as you go through this, dear, remember that this, too, is a blessing. that you are being blessed with hard times as much as you will be blessed with good ones. that you are being blessed with patience, and perseverance and an inner-strength. 
remember, too, that “blessings” are a manmade ideal. god bestows, and humans decide if this is a blessing or a curse. it is all about perspective. 
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GROUP TWO
cards pulled · queen of wands (reversed), three of pentacles (reversed), eight of swords, six of cups, eight of cups, death (reversed). 
channelled songs · get out by pinkfantasy. wake me up before you go-go by wham! i’m every woman by whitney houston. 
my dear group two ♡ your next major blessing sees you settling into yourself -- likely out of no other option but to settle into yourself. out of no other option but to become comfortable with yourself, in your entirety. 
you are being forced into this role of the “outside” -- in your community, school, or workplace. you are different from those around you. your views are different from those around you. and that is your strength. that is your blessing. 
you are not meant to be the same as everybody else. to share everybody else’s perspectives. to live everybody’s life. and sometimes we have to truly become isolated and feel not just alone but lonely in order to embrace who we truly are. 
are that is what this is doing, how this is blessing you. you are going to blessed with this experience that pushes you to be completely unique and original. to honour your uniqueness and original ways of thinking. to forge your own path and create a life for yourself that is truly your own. 
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GROUP THREE
cards pulled · eight of swords, page of swords, knight of pentacles, seven of pentacles, knight of cups, three of pentacles. 
channelled songs · i am the best by 2ne1. middle of the night by monsta x. infinity by superm. 
my dear group three ♡ your next major blessing is a blessing of clarity. clarity of the mind. 
the fog is being lifted from in front of your eyes and any confusion you may have felt (or held in your mind) is now gone for good and for the better!
up until now, you have been wandering aimlessly. putting one foot in front of the other because while you do not know where you are going, you know that you cannot afford to stay in one place for too long and rot. rot. rot away. 
but no more! you are going to receive this blessing of knowing exactly what you want to do, exactly what you want to out of life, and exactly who you want to be. 
honestly, dear, this is such a major blessing, because after so long of trying and trying and trying, things are finally coming together in your life. 
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GROUP FOUR
cards pulled · two of swords, judgement, nine of wands (reversed), seven of swords, the world (reversed), the star. 
channelled songs · run this town by jay-z & rihanna. stop by lous and the yakuza. put my hands on you by dean & anderson. paak. 
my dear group four ♡ this major blessing is another one of those “blessings in disguise.” though, to be fair, aren’t most blessings? 
but, now, for you, this is a blessing of fake friends and fake supporters being revealed and promptly removed from your life. all these snakes in the grass, lurking, spying on you and waiting for the vital moment to strike and hurt you. these people who are faking friendliness to your face, but are waiting to stab you in the back. these people will be made known to you soon. in a drastic way. 
what you do with this is up to you, however. will you take this blessing for what it is and cut them out, thus making space for true friends and supporters? for people who actually do have your best interest at heart? or will you forgive and forget, allowing naivety to take the reins? which, may be hard as these may be friends you’ve known for a long time. or a family member. or a lover. 
a blessing is a blessing is a blessing, but what’s most important is what we do when we are presented with one. what are you going to do? 
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linskywords · 4 months ago
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2024 HRPF recs
As has become my wont, I spent the last few weeks trying to catch up on some of the new fics in the hockey RPF tag that I missed over the course of the year. I definitely didn't get to everything, or even all of the most popular ones; there may also be a bias towards shorter fics here, as I was trying to get through a lot. 😅 But I hope you enjoy, and possibly find a gem or two that you missed!
First, some general favorites:
Scoring Effects by @helenish (McDrai, 30K): Ah, Helenish. A goddess among us. I love a good mistaken identity story, and this is a GREAT mistaken identity story.
barons by dilangley (MattDrai, 43K): Future fic in which Houston gets its own expansion team, Matthew coaches it, and Leon and Trevor Zegras play on it. Gorgeously done. The Trevor POV section broke me a bit, but it was worth it.
Living Things by @makeit-takeit (TK/Patty, 115K so far): I am so deeply invested in this series. It's very real and vivid-feeling future fic that does an amazingly thoughtful job exploring the NHL wife-and-kids pipeline and what happens when that doesn't fit you as well as you thought it would. The stories that are written so far feel nicely complete, but if you'd rather hold out for the full HEA, you can check out her Wild Ice for a different highlight from the past year.
put the stars in our eyes by @notthequiettype (McDrai, 17K): the McWedding story that I wish I had written. I thought it was going to destroy me, and instead it left me all warm and fuzzy.
Lost and Found by angry_geno_is_score (MattDrai, 2K): angry_geno_is_score had so much to choose from this year, as always, and I loved this as a microcosm of the hurt/comfort they do so well. If you like it, you know where to find more from them!
Next, we move to the irresistible new Sharks babies. I'm not sure I can oversell how hot these three stories managed to be:
come on (leave me breathless) by countthestars @moondoggiestyle (Will/Mack, 10K): I've already talked about how much I loved this one. There can never be too many stories of one player catching the other getting off in the shower, especially if they're as hot as this.
revising the shoreline by ohyellowbird @teex (Will/Mack, 6K): another super well done exploring-their-sexuality-while-not-talking-about-it story, aka my kryptonite.
teamwork makes the dreamwork by canary @bigdogenergy (Will/Mack and Will/Mack/Ryan Leonard, 19K): I'm sure a lot of you have already read this in the last week or so, but I couldn't not recommend it. Mack goes into heat and Will needs an alpha to help him out. Who to call but the ex?
And then we enter the realm of vaguely devastating but gorgeously written JDTZ trade fics:
home by now by donderwolk @donderwolkenblog (Jamie/Trevor, 6K): The moment they found out about the trade, and a little bit after. Brilliant, impeccable, ruinous.
heat check by jolach @hyggles (Jamie/Trevor and also Carts/Richie, 4K): Outsider perspective on Jamie and especially Trevor as they deal with the aftermath of the trade, through the eyes of Mike Richards, who may have some experience in the area. I don't know how anyone writes this well, honestly.
Finally, one of my favorite things about reading through the past year's fics is finding a prolific new author I love who I had totally missed in my year of mostly reading people I'm already subscribed to. This year it was unsay (@tungpin). They seem to have started writing HRPF this year, and they tend toward the kind of complicated sometimes-ambiguous stories that I never manage to write but love to read. Here are a few of my favorites of theirs from this year:
malt (MattDrai, 4K): Leon meets Sasha Barkov and has feelings about how he wants to be more serious than Matthew does (OR DOES HE).
accessory to the rockstar (McDrai, 5K): once again we have Leon having thoughts about how he feels more than the person he's into, this time about Connor. Bittersweet and lovely.
the care and keeping (Jamie/Trevor, 12K): in which Trevor's friends get on Jamie's case about neglecting him post-trade, and Jamie does something about it.
That's it from me, at least for now! I know there were many excellent stories this year I didn't get to, especially the long ones that I just didn't commit to while reading for this list. Perhaps this is the year I do what I've been telling myself to do for the past two years and keep track of what I read and love throughout the year. We can only dream. 😅
Happy reading!!
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keruimi · 11 months ago
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Your Dream
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Pairing: Obanai Iguro x reader
Warnings: Mention of Sexual Abuse, Death, Total Angst
Note: It has a similar plot with my other Obanai Oneshot but why do I feel like this hurts more? Anyways, I am back to writing Kny especially when it's angst. And yes, it's Obanai Iguro again, my favorite character. The only reason I wrote this is because of the Obamitsu Angst in my fyp like stop reminding me, it really hurts. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it because I don't want to suffer alone.
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It was a normal life I live, working as an average kakushi who is mostly assigned in the kitchen.
When an odd request from Oyakata-sama changes my routine. When he assigned me to deliver meals to the new pillar, the Snake Hashira, Obanai Iguro.
At the age of eighteen, I finally experienced the anger of a Hashira with just my presence.
Knowing I was silent my whole life, I never found the reason why the Hashira glared at me on our first meeting.
I can't even count how many meals have been ignored or thrown whenever I deliver it to him.
Feeding the Snake Hashira became part of my routine that I completely memorize the route of his manor since he doesn't want anyone to be with him.
"Y/n, please take care of Obanai Iguro's health for me"
Those are the words I hold onto as I tolerated the cold treatment of the Hashira.
I lost track of the times I stay outside the freezing cold when he doesn't want to open his door for me.
It became more torturing when my heart suddenly beat faster when he started treating me differently after a year.
When he finally started to accept the food I cooked and delivered to his manor. Even if he can't finish it, I am thankful that it wouldn't become a waste anymore.
I knew our simple interaction progressed more when he allowed me to come closer to his space. Even a job that I shouldn't be doing, I'm doing it for him.
Like cleaning his manor, grinding ink for him, and helping him sort different poetry he has written.
Those simple moments introduce me to the new side of him that I slowly fell in love with.
It made me want to try harder until the walls he built around him completely fall down.
Until he can finally open his heart to me.
But that friendship I tried to stabilize, brick by brick, became nothing when he met her in the Ubuyashiki mansion.
My effort is almost nothing with how easy she manages to make him soften to her.
And I started to look for the reasons why.
The friendship I tried so hard to build is ruined and I felt like I went back to the first time we met.
The cautious aura that made it difficult for me to connect to him.
And I knew those thoughts are really happening when the food I brought is left untouched.
"I have already eaten with Mitsuri"
It was the sentence I kept hearing but I didn't stop doing my duty of making his food for him.
Because I learned to love taking care of him.
Those tasty delicacies I used to love cooking, change when I noticed he was disgusted just by the smell of it.
I adjusted so many things that I completely forgot what I really love.
Just to serve him right.
I prevent the cough that is threatening to leave my mouth as I grind ink for the Hashira I am serving.
As he wrote the letter he always sent to her.
It was breaking me. But I have no right to feel anything for him.
I already knew ever since, that a high-ranking warrior like him is not meant to love me.
But the weak side of me silently yearn that he can return it.
But seeing how in love he is with another woman. I knew I never had a place in his heart.
But just a mere presence that accompanies him in the garden.
I was just a shadow he would never notice. A person that serves him, and he would not change his perspective on me.
I was beside him so I could serve him, not to love him.
I wipe the single tear and escape my eyes before he notices as I force my body to move according to what he wishes.
While he remained clueless of my emotion that I tried so hard to get rid of.
The emotion that broke my heart when I saw the ring in his room while I was cleaning.
I could never look at the mirror just to see how my eyes portrayed the pain I felt when I saw it.
"Obanai-san really liked Mitsuri, don't you?" I mustered up the courage to speak my thoughts with a slight teasing tone as my back faced him.
I bit my lip to stop the sob that is threatening to be heard as I heard shuffling behind me.
"Obanai-san must treat Mitsuri-san right. Marriage is a dream for every woman. Especially when they will have a good man to love" I turned to him with a smile as I slowly opened my eyes and saw how soft his eyes turned because of embarrassment.
I don't know his past. I don't know what he loves.
I don't know Obanai Iguro.
But I know he has a hard time trusting others.
"I hope you both live a happy life" I managed to let out but it came out as a whisper as I took my things and left the room.
I froze the moment I left his manor as the tears I managed to subside finally escaped my eyes as I found myself crying on the way back to the village I live in.
I knew it was coming but my heart won't stop aching. My eyes can't stop crying. My mouth can't stop sobbing.
I really love him.
But he is not mine.
~•°•~
I lost track of the years when the female kakushi started to serve me.
The only woman I allow to enter my manor with the excuse of serving me.
Because I thought of changing myself even a little no matter how much I feel fear or disgusted by a female approaching me.
Because she gave effort to providing me with the most comfortable thing I needed. Especially during my meal time.
Starting with a simple window being opened, creating less flavorful food that I can tolerate.
I knew she was adjusting for me so I let her presence in my everyday life. Until that became like a friendship I was thankful for.
I can talk to someone about things without including battles.
I love her like a family.
That explained how my body felt frozen when I heard the news of what happened to her on the way to my manor.
The news of her being taken advantage of by a man who manages to memorize her route to my manor due to her everyday routine of walking her way there.
The anger I felt was unexplainable that I can find myself hurting a fellow human.
I knew humans can be evil, but I didn't know I could hate them more than I hate demons.
But I thought I made a mistake too.
If I just let her stay in my manor so she wouldn't exert too much energy just for my food, I could protect her better.
I know I'm slowly losing control when my self-restraint almost fell apart when I visited her quarters and I found her silently sitting at the corner of her room, hugging her knees.
As the spark in her eyes completely vanishes.
"She refused to eat nor let another woman near her. When the others approach her, she flinches. We don't know how to approach her anymore" the Kakushi who led me to her room stuttered out as I felt my hand grip the wooden door in anger.
Yet my eyes badly wanted to cry for her.
"Shinobu tried to check on her but she started to cry whether she was near. We just confirm the situation when the evidence of the sexual abuse was present in her body when we found her unconscious in the forest"
"Stop talking" I snap at him who immediately keeps his mouth shut as my snake hiss at him who scurried away.
"Y/n, it's me" I knocked on the door even though it was already open to make her aware of my presence in the room.
I don't know how I control my voice who I thought will be expressed in a trembled tone.
I am a man.
That is the first thought that came to my mind that made me decide to sit at the floor near the door.
"Obanai Iguro, you know me, right?" I spoke again and she kept her silence making my hands tighten its hold on my pants.
I'm not used to this side of her.
"Are you scared of me?" I asked slowly as silence occupied the entire room before she shook her head a little.
"May I come closer?"
With that question, I notice how her hands tighten on the blanket surrounding her making me release a shaky breath.
I never knew I was willing to hurt a fellow human just for her.
It made me want to make the man suffer badly. Worse than what he did to her.
"I'm sorry" I was left speechless when those were left on her lips and I immediately shook my head.
"Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. It was them that wronged you" I am not good at words but I wanted to completely express my concern and pain for her.
I badly wanted to avenge her.
"It was me who should apologize because I was not there for you"
"I am not your responsibility..." She whispered and I shook my head once again, wishing for her to look at me even once so she can see how badly I am hurt for what she has experience.
How desperate I am to show she was not alone during this time.
"You are. Because you are important to me" I felt tears in my eyes as Kaburamaru slithered his way to her and slowly circled around her shoulder in a protective manner.
"I am tainted..."
"You're not" I firmly stated. "I am the tainted one between the two of us" those words quickly left my lips without any hesitations and she finally had the courage to look in my direction.
"So don't look at yourself that way. For me, you are still the same Y/n that accompanied me" I stuttered out as I tried to stabilize my breathing.
"I will seek justice for you. That's a promise"
I saw how a tear left her eyes as she looked outside the window. Removing her gaze on me.
"In our generation, marriage is every woman's dreams. Is a symbol of acceptance. Is where you will really feel you are loved and chosen by someone" she whispered.
"But in order to be chosen, you need to be pure, compliant, and well-mannered. That's what it takes to be a good wife" she stated as Kaburamaru nuzzled his head on her cheek when he noticed her difficulty in breathing.
I badly want to lend her my shoulder to lean on, an advice to make her mind clear. But in this situation, we both knew she just needed an ear to listen to her.
Someone to comfort her with just presence.
"But if you don't meet those requirements, you will be shunned by society. You will lose the qualification that a wife has."
"Right now, I will not be the wife of someone. I will not be married to a man I will dedicate my life to. Because I don't have my purity that only my husband should have." She whispered.
It was a painful word to state out loud. But right now, I can't read her.
Because she completely closed off her emotions.
"I don't fit the standard that a wife should have." She whispered as she buried herself in her blanket that hid herself from me.
"And it hurted so badly"
I closed my eyes when she spoke those words.
And I hate myself because I can't do anything for her but just torture her attacker.
"What else is your dream other than marriage?" I ask her as she closes her eyes to rest it for a little while.
"I want to meet the one that is willing to spend their entire life with me" it was a hopeful wish.
Silence occupy the room and I thought she fall asleep until she whispered the words I never expected to hear from her.
"I love you..." It was barely heard but I knew it was the words she hide for so long.
That made it known to me that I could grant that dream to her.
But I decide to give her the time she needs to heal from that painful experience.
She needs to heal.
Those are the thoughts I could only think of as I laid her down in her bed in a more comfortable position when I noticed she had finally fallen asleep.
But I never expected that it would be the last time I would see her with her eyes open.
Because when I came back the next day, the news of her death was the one that greeted me.
It was a nocturnal death because her heart failed during her sleep.
It finally felt like my whole world collapsed and my mind completely shut down.
If it weren't for Sanemi being beside me, I would have completely fallen on the floor as I kneel in front of her room.
It hurts.
I wanted it to stop.
But I know that nothing could make her happy anymore.
Because that nightmare would continue living within her for the rest of her life.
I never manage to cherish her smiles more. I only shrugged the moments I have with her because I thought we would stay that way.
That I never knew I was running out of time.
It took every cell in my body to approach her cold body that is covered with white cloth as I kneeled beside her.
I silently slid the ring that she found on my mansion in her finger as tears continued escaping from my eyes as Sanemi just stood behind me.
I lost someone who made me feel like I have the family I never have.
In this life, we were parted to heal.
But I will make sure that her wish will be granted.
"In this life" I started to whisper as my lips lean on her fingers where the ring stays.
"As God as my witness, I promise to take you as my bride. Give myself as your other half" I keep mumbling as I squeeze her cold hand as tears continue to fall from my eyes.
"That even death can never separate us. Because in our next life, I'll make sure, that I will utter this words to you again"
And in that life, you will be alive to hear it
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sweetlady555 · 5 months ago
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Unlocking the hidden power of Mars 12H:
Hi everyone! I apologize for not having been uploading as much but I’m back and writing about Mars 12H because it's so powerful and I rarely EVER see anyone talking about it. As I’ve decided to step fully into my power starting November 2024, I’ve recently realized something powerful about my energy that completely changed my perspective, I will be using Kim Kardashian as my example as she is a Mars 12H native :$
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What Is Mars in the 12H? 🤔
Mars represents drive, action and motivation. The 12H is the house of the subconscious, hidden things, spirituality, behind the scenes, hidden strengths, the spiritual realm. When these two energies combine, they create an energy that works below the surface often in ways we aren't fully conscious of. 👁️
One thing you should know is Mars 12H natives makes moves in silence they don't need outside noise or your projections! You'll see how it's done just watch, you don't know need to know how, why or when they're going to do it, but just know they've been multiple steps ahead of you. Its like this divine calling thats always in your ear telling you which move shall be next and its such a strong force that its like if you don’t take action itll make you feel so……… wrong its like a itch. Usually Mars 12H natives do take the action and it leads to blessings I like to call them. Mars 12H natives do not feel the need to force anything, when the thought and feeling comes you do that shit! Mars 12H natives are always mysteriously led to exactly where they need to be.. this is likely why they get their rep for being so mysterious & secretive! Its imporant as a Mars 12H native to listen to your gut and trust that everything will work out as planned, and this doesn’t go for just Mars 12H natives it goes for everyone!
Let's use Kim Kardashian as a famous example on how Mars 12H manifests for the natives, as a Mars in 12H native I feel like I can relate to her ambition and I can understand her doings.
Kim Kardashain always knew she was going to be a star, if you have seen her videos of her younger self she states, "and you're all going to remember me as this beautiful little girl" For both Kim and people with Mars 12th house, the confidence and determination to become a star or successful often comes from a deep subconscious belief in their destiny. Even if they don't know the "how" or the "when," they just FEEL compelled to take action towards their dreams, sometimes in ways that seem hidden or almost effortless to others. In Kim's case, she didn't just fall into success, she actively pursued it through her work, image crafting, and seizing opportunities. Even before she became widely known, she had an innate sense of how to position herself and build her brand. This is the Mars 12H signature, an internal drive that doesn't always need external validation or explanations to succeed. Many people accuse Kim of "destiny swapping" with Paris Hilton but let's be so fo real right now.. Destiny swapping doesn't exist, and I feel like people just can't believe Kim rose above Paris Hilton which seemed so effortlessly, but not enough people credit her for her hard work and perseverance. People have accused her for being a reptellian too 😭 ? because I guess its that hard to understand hard work, dedication and logic actually does pay off! Kim has a vision and she's still actively working hard for her vision behind the scenes, and if its one thing we all know its that Kim will chase her bag regardless!
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My experience with Mars in the 12H :
Growing up, I always knew I was going to be something special, I knew I was gonna be influential (I have 10H placements so this might manifest differently) Last year, I had rose to fame very quickly online through my image and the amount of people who were confused af how I did it was flattering not gonna lie! I would hear people tell me things like “did you sell your soul?” or “whats the method?” or “you only got it because you had this and this” . I was always in my own bubble online posting what I feel destined to do no matter what my ego said. I thought with my soul a lot of times even if it was shocking, so honestly I could see how people would accuse me of “selling my soul” or having a certain method to my influential social media fame. There is a lot of pain & passion behind my doings and I logically plan everything out so it kind of flatters me honestly! To me this just shows how Mars 12H natives are skilled in making something out of themselves coming from being a underdog to becoming someone highly admired.
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The Energy Of A 12H Mars Native :
Mars in the 12H natives can have this strong powerful magnetic effect on others without them even realizing it but others will feel this on a subconcious level. They truly have a lot of appeal! Its almost like this hidden power or secret magentism that draws people in which could attract a lot of admirers, monitoring spirits, actual spirits even! 😭 The truth is though, Mars 12H natives do really have this strong inner power within them, they tend to be very confident in themselves and this energy reflects on the outside even through the screen. They have this aura around them that can’t be ignored. Mars 12H natives will often be seen as untouchable or enigmatic, just like Kim she knew how to use this energy to use this subtle allure to captivate her audience.
People with Mars 12H have this sexual energy that is more felt, not seen! This can make their presence intoxicating as others may sense their sexual energy without knowing where it’s coming from. Its almost hypnotic! Its a deeply rooted emotional and spiritual sexual energy often rooted in the subconcious. With Kim, she knew how to use this energy in her brand being percieved as seductive, powerful and confident, but it wasnt just about her body — it was about the way she carried herself and commanded attention without saying much.
Despite being more subtle, Mars in the 12H gives the individual an almost unconcious control over their sexual energy. Theres an innate understanding of how to play on emotions and create attraction often with very little effort. This creates an energy that is simultaneously passive and powerful and you can’t deny or ignore it either. Almost like being in the background but still being the force everyone notices.
There is a lot of fantasy and imagination that takes place with Mars 12H natives and how theyre percieved, natives with this placement tend to make others fantasize about them not just by how they look but how they make people feel! Their energy creates a sense of longing, almost like a dream or a fantasy that others want to live in. Kim Kardashian has been able to tap into this fantasy energy by cultivating an image of perfect beauty and luxury, which keeps her in a fantasy world that fans want to be apart of. This fantasy element is key to her sexual appeal, as it makes her seem unreachable and unattainable.
Mars 12H natives, if they aren’t aware of their power makes them a target for insecure people and spirits in the physical and spiritual realm. People will often notice this energy before you even do and project the most they can and throw as much dirt as they can on you because they’re afraid of your power! Its highly advised you take the precautions and make sure you are being careful in who you’re telling your business to, what things you might be opening in the physical and spiritual realm, who you let into your space, who you’re doing business with all of it! Dont let them take advantage of you!
I also had read that Mars 12H often repress their emotions or their anger and although it is that in some cases, Mars 12H natives just tend to strategically move instead of acting out on anger or resentment in the moment to avoid unnecessary conflict and to stay in power and their own peace. Its a silent strength many Mars 12H natives have where you don’t have to scream or shout to prove yourself, you can strategically wait for the right moment, then act with precision. This ability to stay focused and composed on long term goals is what makes Mars 12H natives have this quiet power behind them. People might not realize that this anger comes from a calculated, startegic place, its not random but it could be percieved as out of nowhere. The 12H is often linked to subconcious energies, hidden feelings and things that are not visible to others, so when Mars 12H natives express their anger it can come off as intense, mysterious or even uncontrollable to those around you. People may not fully understand why you do the things you do or whats going on beneath the surface so this often leads to people labeling your anger more extreme.
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The Spirtual Realm
Mars in the 12H natives are often deeply connected to the spiritual realm, but they experience it in a unique way. This placement can give them a natural sensitivity to invisible forces or energies like I mentioned earlier a divine force! Whether that may be intuition, sprits or subconcious currents that influence their actions. Mars in the 12H is often described as “Behind the scenes” or operating in the background, which makes these individuals especially attuned to the unseen world—the spiritual, emotional and psychological realm.
Mars, the planet of action, aggression and energy, in the 12h amplifies the natives ability to tap into intuitive and spiritual currents. This placement suggests that instead of being overly action-oriented in a physical way, Mars energy often works in more subtle and intuitive forms. For these individuals, the battle often happens internally-in the subconscious, in dreams, or in their connection to the spirit world.
Mars in the 12th house people often experience a sense of being guided by invisible forces, and they can be highly receptive to messages or signs from the spirit realm. This doesn't always mean they consciously hear or see spirits, but rather that they might feel guided by an internal voice or experience moments of divine timing that feel too precise to be mere coincidence. They may also experience heightened sensitivity to energy, such as a feeling of being watched, sudden shifts in mood or vivid dreams. Its not a common occurrence to hear ringing in your ears when you’re picking and feeling up on certain energies with these natives!
Since Mars 12H is a powerful subtle energy this makes spirits from the spiritual realm more attracted to them, Mars 12H natives are very assertive and felt by these spirits hence why certain spirits like to latch onto them. Its not common either to see spirits, see things move suddenly and even a spirit taking control over your body when you’re asleep. It sounds scary but don’t let this make you afraid, I once fell into this when I was around 8 or 9 when I was sleeping and a spirit had woken me up in the middle of the night and made me literally slam my face into my headboard that made the principal think I was getting hurt at home, i was always targeted by this spirit. I was the only one who could speak to it and make them do certain things like move toys and such. I didnt realize at the time I was connecting with aggresive spirits 😅 and not God. Its highly important for Mars 12H natives to strongly protect themselves when they are asleep because when you are asleep the veil between the spiritual realm and physical realm is very thin!
Mars 12H natives embody this spirtual warrior archetype, they can feel a calling to fight or stand up for spiritual causes or to protect others, but they do this in a way that is not outwardly visible to others. Mars 12H natives might actively avoid conflict when it comes to spiritual warfare or protecting their energy and their peace. They may also engage in energy work, spiritual practices, or rituals in private to protect themselves from unwanted spiritual influence. This is often done subtly or privately, as they don't always like to broadcast their spiritual strength. Their Mars energy in the 12th house can make them exceptionally good at clearing negative energy, transmuting it, and defending themselves from energetic or spiritual attacks, but they may prefer to do so behind the scenes, where others don't see it.
Mars in the 12th house natives may also experience periods of isolation or retreat, where they feel the need to withdraw from the physical world to connect with the unseen world. These moments of solitude allow them to recharge spiritually, process subconscious material, and connect with higher realms of consciousness. During these times, they may feel a deep connection with their higher self or with the spiritual beings guiding them.
When it comes to spiritual practices, these individuals are likely to have a natural talent for healing or working with energy, whether it's through prayer, meditation, crystals, or other metaphysical practices. Mars in the 12th house helps them channel life force energy in a quiet, powerful way, almost like a spiritual warrior operating in the background, quietly shifting energy around them.
Its important to watch out as a Mars 12H native what you are putting your energy into as these things will manifest almost immediately. When you decide to shift your attention to other IMPORTANT things you will often notice your energy was literally the foundation for whatever negative thing that was happening. So be Aware! You know how powerful your energy is.
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This was a long post but as a Mars 12H native, I rarely see any accurate or in depth posts of Mars 12H individuals, I had to really dig into my experiences to understand this was Mars 12H influence all along.. In my opinion, Mars 12H natives deserve so much more respect for what they do because a lot of it goes unseen and for multiple reasons lol. I havent wrote in a while but I was getting a huge urge calling to post about this. If any mars 12h individuals relate to any of these experiences please let me know because I’d love to hear from you! and please be careful 💟 may god protect your divine energy, space and you ☮️
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mabelstone · 11 months ago
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La Petite Mort
hozier x f!reader
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part four of lullabies <3 | part three | masterlist
cw: sex sex sex love making ❤️ no other warnings really, it's pretty gushy
word count: 2.6k
taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n xo
Hours later, the buzz of the alcohol had completely fled my system, leaving me with a residual fatigue and a love struck smile. It felt wrong, but simultaneously, nothing had ever felt so right or natural. Like the sense of deja vu that confirms you are exactly where you're supposed to be.
"Hey," he gently shook my arm from where I was sitting in a booth, almost unable to keep my eyes open. "You 'right?"
"Mhm," I grinned, fighting back a yawn. "And how are you, hotshot?"
"Overwhelmed," he huffed, extending his hand to me. He never enjoyed crowds despite their tendency to form around him everywhere he went. "Let's go home."
I let him lead me out, warmth flooding my cheeks at the simple gesture. The bite of the cold was sharper than earlier, my teeth instantly chattering. He, of course noticed immediately, shucking himself of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.
"Andy," I shook my head trying to fight him off, but it was no use. "Now you're gonna get cold."
"I have at least three layers on at all times, the cold fears me," he joked, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Thank you," I pouted at him, overwhelmed at such a small gesture. But it wasn't small to me. Everything Andy did was grand in my eyes. "So chivalrous."
"Well, you know me," he shrugged, stifling a grin of his own.
I started humming the chorus of tonights' song as we walked, unable to remember any of the words other than imagine being loved by me, and the beautiful melody that was sure to hang around for days.
"Don't do that," he laughed with embarrassment, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.
"Why not? It's a beautiful song, after all," I shrugged, unable to hide my smile that stretched from ear to ear. "And wasn't I the inspiration?" I teased, and it was now his turn to glow red.
"Mhm," he grinned, eyes focused on the road ahead of us. We were nearly back at the car, and the adrenaline was beginning to flood my bloodstream. "That's why you liked it, 'uh?."
"So good," I agreed, walking a bit closer to him that now our arms bumped occasionally. "Did you mean what you said? In the song?"
"'Course I did," he chuckled, unlocking the car and opening my door for me. He even helped me buckle my seatbelt. "Don't worry, it's just a song."
He climbed into his side now, the faintest pink tint to his cheeks, but otherwise, unbothered. I, on the other hand, was trying to get my stupid heart to slow back to normal.
I was fighting the urge to climb over into his lap and beg him to do all the things he'd been imagining. Instead we drove in what would appear to be comfortable silence from an outsiders' perspective. Obviously I didn't know what he was thinking, but I can promise you there was no trace of innocence in my thoughts. The air in the car was thick with desire, leaving me on the verge of choking on the tension.
We exchanged few words on the drive back to his, stealing bashful glances here and there. When the car stilled to a park, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.
"Andrew?" My heart continued to pound in my ears, his brows raising slightly in encouragement. "I want you," I confessed.
He turned to face me and I could see his quickening pulse through the thin skin of his neck. He swallowed thickly, pupils blown so wide I could scarcely see any green.
His gaze flitted between my lips and my eyes, and I'm sure I too was all pupil at this point. I couldn't help myself, leaning over the centre console to feel his lips on mine. My eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and I swear something inside of me had come alive for the first time in my life.
He was better than I had ever imagined.
Lips warm and soft, adding the perfect amount of pressure that made me crave more and more. His hand slipped up the back of my head, cradling its entirety in his palm.
He pulled back slowly, his hand still at the base of my skull. His lips were plump and looked absolutely delicious, my heart aching at the loss of contact.
"I want you, you know that," his voice was lower than before, our faces still close enough that I could feel the tickle of his breath ghosting my lips. "But you just got out of such a long relationship."
"You've treated me better these past few weeks than he did in six years," I reached my hand up to cup his face. His skin was warm and soft, the scratch of his stubble in my palm pulling me back down to Earth, reminding me that this wasn't just another daydream of mine. "Please, kiss me."
And he did, pulling me in as close as the confinement of his car would allow. It felt like coming up for air after holding your breath under water, like the relief you get when a siren finally stops blaring. His scent, his warmth, his gentle breaths exhaled through his nose, mingling with mine as we moved in synchronicity, as if we'd rehearsed this a million times. I'm starting to suspect he must have been having similar dreams of me.
I pulled away this time, giving him my best doe eyes through hooded lids as I suggested, "shall we go inside?"
Without a second thought, Andy was out of the car, opening my door for me. Within moments, our lips were connected again, my arms draped around his neck, his hands quick to grab my waist. He lead me into his house, our mouths moving fast, passion coursing through our veins like electricity. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me up the stairs. We were a mess of giggles and laboured breathing, bumping into walls, and desperately grabbing at one another.
Despite the desperation in our actions, he softly laid me onto his bed, crawling in between my thighs before kissing me again. I ran my hands up the sides of his torso, feeling him shudder slightly under my touch.
I could feel his hard on digging into my thigh, and suddenly my clothes were the biggest inconvenience known to man. "Show me, Andy," I breathed in between kisses, his lips now on my neck, my knickers well on their way to being drenched. "All the things you've been wanting to do to me."
He let out a deep, guttural sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a whine. He reluctantly pulled himself from me, slipping his shoes off in two fluid movements. He knelt before me, my entire ankle easily in the grip of his hand. He unbuckled my heels, slipping them off with a kiss to each of my calves. He slowly ran his hands up my legs, planting a trail of kisses upon each inch of skin he touched, the heat in my core beginning to boil.
He looked up through his head of curls, eyes dark and hungry. "You sure you want this, darlin'?"
I nodded desperately, hands instantly finding their way into his hair to bring his lips to mine again. His tongue prodded at my bottom lip and I let him in my mouth without hesitation, allowing him to explore. This only caused my desire for his tongue elsewhere to grow insurmountably.
All of my senses came to life when I felt his hand moving toward my inner thigh, opening my legs wide for him to grant him full access. His fingers made their way to my core, a soft groan fleeting from his lips. "Fuck," he breathed against my lips, slipping a ridiculously long finger inside of me with ease. I moaned into his mouth, one of my hands reaching down to grab his wrist, encouraging him to insert another. He did, curling his fingers with such precision that if I my brain weren't staticky from the feeling, I'd question how many lovers he'd had. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, kissing my neck as he did so, eyes glued to my face as if he were memorising every expression he pulled from me.
"Need to feel you," I choked out breathlessly, desperately cupping his face. "Please."
He smiled wickedly, kissing my lips once more before pulling his fingers out, dipping them straight into his mouth. My jaw nearly detached from my face at the gesture, my stomach flipping harder than ever. I watched in awe as he pulled his shirt off, his pants soon to follow, absolutely shocked that the shy, awkward, nerdy Andrew I thought I knew did not exist within these walls. I could see the outline of his cock through his boxers, swallowing hard. How on Earth was that going to fit? I sat up to rid myself of my dress, allowing it to pool around my ankles as he watched on, cock twitching beneath the thin cotton.
I made my way to him, helping him remove the last bit of clothing keeping us apart, eyes nearly bulging out of my head when I saw him. All of him. He may be the most beautiful man I have ever seen.
His hands quickly found my face, reeling me in with those lips once more before laying me on the bed again. His eyes searched mine again for any doubt, not finding any, but something else. "You okay?"
"Yes, just preparing," I laughed, only half joking.
"You're okay, you can take it," he kissed my cheek softly, lining himself up with my entrance. I gasped at the sharp sting of the stretch, holding my breath briefly. He halted all movement, no doubt used to this happening. "Tell me when, baby."
I rested my hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath before nodding. He slowly slipped the rest of his length in, our beautiful harmonisation of moans filling the air.
It was only painful for a moment before I was practically begging for more. He was as long and thick as you’d expect, but God, nothing could have prepared me. He began to form a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of me while I whined under his touch.
To feel his body weight on mine, his warmth, his scent, his love - I had ascended from my human form. I caved, begging him for more, begging him to fuck me how he wanted to.
He captured my lips with his mid way through a thrust, his cock slamming into that spot that made my brain fuzzy. I dug my nails into his shoulders, gasping into his mouth, “just like that.”
He obliged, one of his hands steadying himself with the headboard, the other cupping the back of my head. I wondered why, until he really found his rhythm.
With each delicious thrust, he would effectively hit my g-spot, making me weak as jelly under him, barely able to form words. My head was hitting his hand with the sheer force of each thrust, and I’m sure the thought of him protecting my skull would make me swoon if I weren’t on the brink of tears, producing noises I didn’t know I was capable of.
“Andy, Andy,” I chanted his name breathlessly, unable to even open my eyes as pleasure cradled my entire being. I’d never heard my voice this desperate ever, to the point that I had no autonomy over my words and vocality, like my soul was speaking without getting confirmation from my brain first. “You- feel- so- good,” I was near crying between each thrust, my mouth completely dry from all the panting.
“You feel good too, darlin’,” he grinned, removing his hand from the bed head and dropping it down to my clit. “So fuckin’ good.”
My jaw went slack, no coherent words falling from my mouth, just rhapsodies of praise in the form of whimpers and laboured breaths.
"Want you to cum for me," he breathed, his thrusts growing sloppy ever so slightly.
"Keep going," I barely got the words out, the coil in my stomach tightening as he dragged me closer to the edge with every word, every thrust, every skilled dance of his fingers over my clit. "Andy," I warned loudly, the high pitch of my tone sounding foreign to my ears, unsure if had even fallen from my tongue. "Oh, my God, I'm gonna-"
Within an instant, I unravelled beneath his touch, moaning a string of curses I couldn't even hear as the static in my mind grew overwhelming. I shook uncontrollably, every muscle of mine growing limp yet tensing and spasming at the same time. My back arched and my toes curled, crescent moon shapes from my fingernails marking his beautiful skin; a reminder to us both of how euphoric he had made me feel. My orgasm rippled through me like waves in a storm, pummelling me over and over as I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, unable to open them, unable to close my mouth as a slurry of cries dripped from my soul. Unsure of what came over me, I begged, “please cum in me,” wanting nothing more than to feel every ounce of his loving.
When I finally came back down to Earth, the waves crashed into him, the most angelic sounds flooding the four walls we were confined to. Overstimulation wracked my bones, panting into his mouth as he rode out the rest of his high, a clash of tongue and teeth as he kissed me once more. He pumped into me a few more unsteady times, his arms shaking as they struggled to hold his weight any longer.
He pulled out of me slowly, the loss of contact leaving me with a hollow feeling, immediately clinging to him the second his head hit the pillow beside me.
“Andrew,” I breathed in disbelief, titling my head to see the tired smile on his face. “I don’t even have words.”
“Could say the same to you!” He sighed, content with his arm around me, our bodies gently slowing back to normal. “What an angel.”
You are the angel, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I basked in his warmth, his scent flooding my senses as my soul unwillingly reconnected with my body.
“Write a song about this, would ya?” I laughed against his skin, tracing shapes into his chest, feeling like I was the main character in a cheesy rom-com.
“Way ahead of ya, love,” he grinned back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wanna have a shower? Or is that too much?”
I looked up at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Andrew. There’s a chance you just knocked me up. No, showering together is not too much.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” he groaned, abruptly rolling out of bed, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom. He laughed devilishly at the squeak he elicited from me, kissing my face while I smiled and giggled like a fool.
Fuck.
He towered over me, the beads of water dripping from his hair onto me. He looked beautiful, contented in serenity, similar to how I was feeling, I'm sure. He lathered my body in soapy suds, nothing remotely sexual in the gesture. I did the same for him, enveloped in the warmth of his skin, acclimated to the same temperature of the water. If this were my last moment on Earth, I would die happy. Andrew had a way of making me forget every bad moment of my life. Every poor decision, every tear cried for a man who only thought about himself. Surely, this was too soon to be labelled as love. But it sure felt like it.
"You are so beautiful."
i hope u liked it if u didn't tell me if u did leave requests of something you'd like to see in this next xo and i'm aware of all the run on sentences, i'm sorry if that makes it difficult to read. i will not shut up! even in text
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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 9 months ago
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Chapter 22: I May Be Right or I May Be Crazy
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 9.1K
Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ because it handles some heavy subjects! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Seriously it is DARK. THIS ONE IS REALLY DARK! Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Abuse (sort of- it's more the reader being used without knowledge of it and I'm not sure what to call that), Numbness, Mentions of character going through some HEAVY EMOTIONS and INTERNAL TRAUMA , Violence, Explicitly Described Torture, Fire, Graphic depiction of death, Blood, Gore, Sexual References, Family Problems. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.
Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
A/N: I'm serious guys this one is really gory, violent, and bloody. I mean, so is the show. BUT this is an additional warning if you don't like reading that kind of stuff, please do not read this. It also handles a really delicate issue with the reader going through something that no one should ever have to. I've never written something like this before and honestly I don't think I ever want to again, but it had to be addressed...
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
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"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Ben says, gently pushing back a few strands of your hair from your face, fingers trailing against your cheeks, warmed from the morning sun that peaks through the large trees which shield Legend's property from the rest of the world.
Butcher had finally found Mindstorm, figured out which cabin he was hiding at, and although you wanted to go to make sure that Ben was alright, you knew that you couldn't go with him.
There was something you needed to do and you needed to do it without Ben there. It had to be handed delicately. You weren't sure what you would learn, what it would confirm or deny, and as much as it hurt you to be apart from Ben, you had to do it alone.
It was two days after your revelation, after you received what seemed like divine wisdom while staring at your daughter as if seeing her for the first time in forty years and understanding what it was that you'd forgotten. It had been hard to laugh off why you'd shattered a mug during Butcher's little pow-wow, even Rosemary was concerned after, but you'd waved her off and said that you were just getting accustomed to your new supe strength.
But Ben wasn't fooled. When you went upstairs to clean the alcohol from your clothes Ben had followed and tried to get you to tell him what was wrong, but you'd only said that you were tired. He knew you were lying, but he only sighed and hugged you because he didn’t really know what else to do.
And now standing outside of Legend's house while Ben, Butcher, and Hughie were about to go after Mindstorm you wanted to tell him what you believed, but you still couldn't.
You had to find out for yourself.
"Yeah. I don't want to leave Rosemary or Lou." You reply leaning in to his touch. It was true, you didn't, but it wasn't the whole truth and it made you feel guilty. You'd never lied to him before or well, hadn't tried to intentionally trick him. And it felt worse to do this now that the two of you were starting over, and when everything felt more wonderful than you could have imagined all those years ago.
Ben eyes you for a moment and you're suddenly worried that he's been a mind reader this whole time and he's just never said anything.  But then his expression softens. "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't said too much since the other day."
"I'm fine." You touch the front of his supe suit, laying your hand directly over his heart and feeling the gentle thud in the palm of your hand. It was difficult not to touch him now, not after the boundary had been crossed so many times over the past two days. Somewhere deep down you worried that Ben was still uncomfortable with you doing something so intimate in public.
You were aware that everyone was looking at the two of you, Rosemary and Lou standing more towards the house on the front porch and Hughie and Butcher were standing by Butcher's car parked in the long driveway. Butcher's car still had a giant hole in the roof from when Ben punched through it and when he saw the hole, Butcher had threatened to send Ben back to Russia and you threatened to melt Butcher into a puddle.
But Ben gently touches your wrist, where your hand rests against his chest, frowning slightly.
"Fine. I've got a few things on my mind-" You whisper, hating how easily he could read you, but at the same time you loved it.
Ben made you feel seen, and after years of feeling invisible, feeling like you were losing you best friend, and feeling like he would never care about you the same way, it made you happy and comforted.
"Then tell me. I want to help." Ben's hand slides up your wrist to your hand, entwining his fingertips with yours and surprising you again. He was being so open and thoughtful in front of everyone. His eyes search yours as if he was trying to see your thoughts and it made you smile again to understand how much he loved you and cared about you.
"Ben." You breathe, squeezing his hand. "I don't want to talk about it now. Can we talk about it when you get back?"
"Is it why you're not coming with me?" His frown deepens.
"A part of it. But I really want to make sure that Lou and Rosemary are safe."
Ben raises his gaze to look at where Rosemary stands frowning at the two of you, before he looks back at you. "Okay." But he doesn't seem happy with the turn of events.
You didn't blame him, you didn't want him to go face Mindstorm alone even with Hughie and Butcher. You still didn't trust Butcher and of all your old teammates Mindstorm was the most troubled.
"Can you promise me something?" You ask Ben, looking up at him.
"Anything."
"Watch out for the kid."
"The kid?" Ben looks confused. "Lou?"
"No. Hughie." You glance over to where Hughie is standing at the back of the car with Butcher.
Probably talking about the Temp V they're going to shoot up to take down Mindstorm.
You really didn't want to leave Ben with Mindstorm of all people. Mindstorm was probably one of the only supes that could do something to Ben. Ben did have some psychic immunity, but you thought that Mindstorm could peel away the layers, sink deep into his mind, make Ben see the things that always plagued him. And the last thing you wanted was for Ben to be trapped in an automatic loop of him listening to his father say what a disappointment he was. You were trying to make him forget those things, just as Ben tried his hardest to make you forget the things your mother said to you.
If Mindstorm put Ben through that, you were going to hunt him down to the ends of the earth and make him understand what it was like for someone to peel the skin from your flesh bit by bit and then make him eat that brain of his that he loved so much.
Plus you figured that the worst thing that could happen is Mindstorm would lock you in your own head and you'd have to spend your final hours with your dead mother, which yes that would suck, but at least at the end of it you'd have a new fun superpower to torture Mindstorm with.  Seemed like a good trade-off if you had to spend your last moments with the bitch herself.
I wonder what he'd make her say to me, what I'd see. I've heard it all before, don't really think that he'd make me see anything I haven't seen before or heard before.
"Why?"
"Hughie's not like us. None of this is him. He's different. He's a good person and all of this is-” You glance over at Hughie again, before looking at Ben. “ Just look out for him."
Ben's hand tightens in yours where it still rests against his chest. "Fine. But if that fucker comes for me I'm not going to tip-toe around Hughie's feelings. I'm going to kill Mindstorm, that's why I'm going there."
"I know." You nod.
"I mean you saw the shit he did to those kids-" Ben whispers the last part because he doesn't want Lou to hear, but notices Rosemary perk up, where she stands on the front porch.
"Yeah. I remember."
Mindstorm was more fucked up than most of the others on your team, found joy in making people see terrible things. And his favorite targets were children. Stan had a hell of a time covering that up, covering up Mindstorm's morning walks through parks and on the edges of elementary schools. He liked to live in their minds as he took them apart bit by bit, exposed them to his own twisted reality.
Mindstorm wasn’t a good person, but you knew that Hughie was.
"I'm not asking you to spare his life." You whisper back. "He was one of the worst from our old team. I'm just asking you to look out for the kid."
"I will."
You nod, still worried. He was going with Hughie and Butcher, but it still felt like he was alone if you weren't with him. The problem was you couldn’t see the way around it. This was your chance to go alone to find some answers, but you didn't like it, didn't like leaving Ben.
Probably about as much as Ben hated leaving you.
“I promise I’ll come back.” He murmurs pressing his forehead against yours, green eyes soft in the morning light. He was mistaking you hesitation for your fear of him leaving and never coming back.
You reach up with your free hand to touch his cheek. "I know." Your thumb gently rubs over his bearded cheek, smiling up at him. "I love you." You whisper.
Ben leans down and kisses you softly, just a fleeting brush of his lips against yours that leaves you wanting more. "I love you too Sweetheart." He murmurs with a soft smile.
Again you weren't used to that, used to him looking at you like you were his whole world, and you never wanted him to stop.
Ben pulls away and raises his gaze to where Rosemary stands arms crossed over her chest with Lou standing beside her watching with wide eyes.
"Be careful." Rosemary says, but it sounds pained, almost as if it took a large amount of effort to say, but you were happy she said something to him that wasn't meant to hurt him.
Maybe that's a good sign. You think to yourself, but then you notice the frown on her face. Or maybe not.
He nods once, but as soon as he takes a step towards where Hughie and Butcher are waiting by the car, Lou runs to him, her tiny arms pumping as fast as she can.
"Ben wait!" She cries, throwing herself against his leg and pressing her head into his right knee. "Don't go. If you go Aunty y/n will be sad again!" Lou mumbles into the fabric, hugging him tight.
Ben stiffens, his eyes shifting to you and for a second you see something unfamiliar flash in his gaze, something painful. It shakes you to your core, and makes you remember how he looked when he stood above your bed the night he came back and said that he couldn't lose you and when he sat in the car and showed you how upset he was that he wasn't there for you when you were pregnant with Rosie.
It made you want to pull him into your arms and hold him close, make him feel loved all over again, show him how much you wanted him here with you despite everything that happened in the past.
He crouches down so he can look Lou in the eye. "I won't be gone long. I'm a little harder to kill than these other sons of-" Ben stops to sensor what he was going to say and clears his throat. "Um. I'm a little harder to keep away than other people."
"Do you promise?" She says.
"Yes I promise honey." Ben smiles tightly.
"Take this for good luck." Lou reaches into the front of her bright pink overalls to pull out a small yellow flower about the size of Ben’s pinky, holding on to the stem in her little hand.
You have no idea where she got it, only that she was holding it out to Ben as if it had the power to save the universe.
Ben looks from Lou's face to the flower, but takes it from her. “Thank you.” He places it carefully in his pocket and zips it in, but before he can stand to go, Lou throws her arms around Ben’s neck and hugs him tight.
You're sure that Ben must barely feel it, you'd seen a supe try to choke him out and Ben only laugh at them. But this is different.
Ben doesn’t move, in fact it doesn’t look like he’s really breathing. His eyes flick to where you’re standing, wide  in surprise and you give him an encouraging smile, because Lou already loves Ben just as much as you do. Ben’s arms are still at his sides awkwardly, but he finally wraps one arm over Lou’s back to hold him to him, gently as if he’s afraid he’ll crush her.
"I'll come back." He murmurs to her. "I promise." But his eyes aren't on Lou, they're on you, open and almost earnest. Making you understand again that he didn't want to leave you, that he wanted to stay, but if he had to go, he'd always come back to you.
Rosemary watches with a frown from the porch, but doesn’t say anything. In the days that had followed their initial meeting she was still trying her best to let him know that she wasn't going to be his friend, that she wasn't going to forgive him.
It hurt you. You didn't say that to her, because you didn't want her to be guilted into liking Ben, but it hurt. It hurt to see your daughter push him away, when all Ben wanted was family. You understood that. Understood that in the way he treated Lou and understood it in the way he treated you.
He was so different than before and you wished Rosemary could see it like you did, but you understood that she needed to realize that all by herself no matter how long it took. You all had time.
Maybe that was the problem, Rosemary had an eternity to hate Ben, but maybe the good thing was that you had an eternity to make him feel loved.
Lou pulls back from him and you take her hand while Ben stands.
"Oi' while we still got daylight!" Butcher shouts from his car, leaning back against the door.
But just before you think Ben is going to go to the car, he steps close to you and kisses you so fiercely you don't remember how to breathe and then he's gone just as suddenly.
You watch the car pull away holding Lou's hand tightly, while it goes down the long drive and finally vanishes in the thicket of trees. It doesn't feel as warm anymore, you're not sure if that's because Ben is gone or because you're preparing yourself for what you have to do next.
"Here you go kitten. This is the only one I could find" Legend says walking through the front door of his house and past Rosemary to hand you a knee-length dark green leather coat. It was vintage, and you had asked him to find something that didn't make you look ridiculous. Legend had closets full of clothes that would have made you look like you were in a Solid Gold music video, and Ben had started wearing the clothes around the house because he didn’t have anything else.
Of course on him they looked good, Ben could be wearing a paper bag and a shower cap and still somehow pull it off.
"Thank you." You release Lou's hand to take it, putting your arms through the sleeves so it hung over your jeans and your black t-shirt.
I swear if I lose one more jacket someone is going to pay. Yeah, because that's what I should be upset about, losing another jacket.
"What do you need that for?" Rosemary asks.
"Lou." You crouch down next to her, smiling up into her freckled cheeks. "I want you to go inside and draw me a field of sunflowers okay?"
"A whole field?" Her eyes brighten.
"A whole field."
"Can I give it to Ben?" She asks.
"Of course you can honey. I think he’d like that very much.” You tuck her dark hair behind her ear before she turns and runs through the large wooden double doors at the front of Legend’s home.
You stand. "I have to do something."
"What do you mean? I thought you just told Ben that you weren't going after Mindstorm?"
"I'm not going after Mindstorm."
"Then what? You’re going to kill someone else aren’t you?” Rosemary crosses her arms over her chest, obviously upset.
You don’t answer.
“Why? Why are you doing this-“ She shouts exasperated.
“Something about everything that happened doesn’t sit well with me.”
“What do you mean everything that happened?”
“Ben was Vought’s golden boy. And I don’t understand why Stan Edgar would just let him be taken like that.” You look at where Legend stands. You didn't think that he knew anything about it, hoped that he didn't. He was one of your oldest friends and to find out that he had betrayed you the same as Payback had betrayed Ben wouldn't end well.
By now he's lit a cigarette, smoking it thoughtfully. "I've wondered the same thing. Stan Edgar was involved in everything, and for him to give the go ahead for Payback to hand Soldier Boy over, means that there must have been some money exchanged for him to green light it." Legend blows out a lungful of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face. "Stan never brought up much with me, just that he was excited that the team was going to be given a chance to help out in Nicaragua." Legend frowns. "I will say that before the premiere that night, Stan seemed to already know that y/n wasn't going to be on that trip. In fact he was convinced that you were going to stay state-side and work with Vogelbaum on some things."
"Vogelbaum?" Rosemary questions looking at him.
"He was the main scientist for Vought, he had in fingers in every pie, knew the extent of all our powers, except mine." You wave a hand. "I always refused bloodwork, I didn't want him to be poking and prodding around in my DNA for too long. But he definitely was big on genetic testing. They were trying to make a new hero-" You pause remembering what Vogelbaum said the night of the premiere. You hadn't remembered what he said until now. When Vogelbaum mentioned the next generation of heroes.
"What is it?" Legend asks.
"Stan knew I wasn't going to Nicaragua. He knew that Countess would make Ben push me away, but what if he was working with Vogelbaum?"
"What would that help?" Rosemary interjects.
"The night of the premiere Vogelbaum said that he wanted me to come by the lab, to meet someone. He said that he was working on "the next generation of heroes" or something." You shake your head as if trying to move things back in place so you can understand. "There's something I'm missing about the whole situation. Some missing piece that doesn't fit." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Stan tried to come talk to me after Ben died, but I never heard what he had to say- I broke his nose and threw him out."
"Maybe he was going to try to get you to come to the lab again." Legend shrugs.
"But why were they so adamant about that it just makes no sense. Why was I important? Why me? It could have been anyone. Hell, they could have had Countess go instead of me. There were other women, other supes. Why did I matter so much?"
You glance at Rosemary again, examining her face and seeing the same thing you realized the other day. Deep down you understood why, but you wanted to be wrong, you didn't want to believe that someone would take that from you, that someone was capable of doing something like that.
"But do you have to kill someone to find out why?" Rosemary pleads. "I don't understand how you're okay with killing people-" She begins to say looking at you like she's never met you before.
"You think I'm okay with killing people?" You ask her. "You think I like this?"
"No but-"
"I've done a lot of shit that I'm not proud of. I've lost control. I've killed people. But believe me when I say that what I'm about to do, I do for you. It might not seem that way right now, but I hope that one day you can understand that."
"Mom I-" She starts, but you hold out your hand. She looks from it to you as if confused, but then finally takes it.
"If Homelander comes here, you kill him. Do you understand me? You don't give him a chance to speak, you kill him." You say, feeling your powers transfer into Rosemary. It didn't hurt, it never did, in fact if she did it to anyone else they probably wouldn't have noticed. Her ability was almost undetectable, the only thing that changes is the quick flash of molten gold in her eyes when she does so. But it was instantaneous and it didn't matter how long Rosemary held on to someone, all it took was skin to skin contact, one touch and that was it.
Rosemary's expression hardens. "Okay."
"I love you." You squeeze her hand once more before you let go.
"I love you too mom."
You take a few steps away from her. "I'll be back tonight. I promise. If Ben gets back before me, just tell him that I needed to do something and that I'll be back. Don't let him try to come after me."
"He's not the easiest person to tell what to do." She sighs.
"I know." You shrug. "He's just like you."
"He is not-"
"He is."
"You need to borrow the car kitten?" Legend asks, beginning to search through his pockets for the keys to his black 1967 Impala. It was in mint condition and Legend was proud of it.
He should be. It's a nice car.
"Nah I think I'll hitch-hike." Your smile is triumphant and maybe a bit mischievous, as you take to the sky, leaving the world and everything you know behind.
If only you knew what was coming.
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Stan Edgar was a simple man. He liked his whiskey neat, his coffee black, his cigars Cuban, his suits pressed, his dinner at 6 pm sharp, and his women poised. Stan Edgar rarely deviated from his plans, never cancelled a meeting, and took every phone call no matter how late. He read the Wall Street Journal each day, checked his blood pressure meticulously, and was in top shape for a man of his age. After years of shaping his image, Stan Edgar's life was the epitome of control and composure.
Not a hair was ever out of place, his apartment on the Upper East Side was perfectly organized, and he never got angry, he got even. He never lost a minute of sleep. He never raised his blood pressure and he knew the exact price that a minute of his time was worth.
He took his morning coffee in the dining room of his large five-bedroom penthouse apartment with a bowl of oatmeal while he read the Wall Street Journal and left his home at exactly 7 am only to return at 5 pm to read through various briefs before his housekeeper delivered his dinner to the same dining room table that he had previously had breakfast on.
When he was taken off the board from Vought, his schedule had deviated slightly, but it was easy for him to control the company, especially with the connections that Stan Edgar had worked his entire life to maintain.
Stan Edgar's life had reached a point of comfortable routine and after forty years it was as it should be. He knew the ins and outs of New York City, he had a stable home, various rental properties, rising stocks, and a control of most of the inner workings of Vought even with Homelander's hostile takeover. Homelander was proving to be a bigger problem than he hoped, but Stan Edgar did not allow himself to revel in Homelander's destruction of the company Stan worked so hard to build up.
Every moment in his life was mapped out to the second and Stan Edgar had worked hard to make it to the top, had crushed many an executive, assistant, and person to gain the power and status that he had.
When Forbes did a profile on him, they had proudly described his rise to power, of course there were details left out, pieces of Stan Edgar's life that he had worked hard to sweep under the rug. But he did not lose sleep over that.
His apartment is cold, silent, and dark when he walks through the front door at 6 pm sharp, odd because Stan expected his housekeeper to be standing there to take his coat as she had been for the past twenty years. The same navy blue wool coat he shrugs out of and hangs on the maple coatrack just inside the front door in his foyer.
You can hear the sound of his footsteps along the marble tiled floor as he makes his way through the silent apartment, his dark brown shoes polished to a shine, squeaking slightly against the polished tiles.
"Roberta?" Stan calls looking for his housekeeper. His voice caries through the darkness.
You could smell the tobacco from his last cigar on his suit coat, his heady cologne, and his hair oil that was just a little spicy. It was old fashioned, something that you could remember from the first time you met him.  You could hear the steady beat of his heart in his chest, perfectly maintained by the bottle of medication you had found in his bathroom only a few hours ago.
You already knew Stan Edgar's routine by heart, knew exactly how he spent his days, and the kind of person he was. Today was not the first time that you had trailed him, wove through the crowded streets behind his thin form as he moved oblivious to your shadowing, and watched his driver Carlos pick him up and drop him off at the correct times. You had done it many times, taken days to understand who he was, understand where he went at what time, and who he met with.
Nothing in Stan Edgar's life was a mystery to you.
Hughie's revelation of Victoria Newman's relation to Stan Edgar was not a surprise. It was a piece of information you held close to your heart if things between the two of you ever went South. You didn't fear her power and you weren't above torturing the weapon that Stan had turned her into. It would have been difficult, she was after all a senator, but it would be easy to inflict a small problem within her body telekinetically, something that looked normal to the naked eye.
Of course what you were about to do to Stan was going to be difficult to explain to the police.
You had contingencies in place for that though, there was nothing to worry your head over. The hardest thing you'd done today was get out of bed this morning and your day had included disposing of Stan Edgar's security detail, who hadn't even been able to touch you, let alone know that you were following him.
Some security detail.
You took a drag from your cigarette, leaning back in the high-backed chair in Stan's ornate living room, the tip burning orange in the darkness, the smoke obscuring your form where you lounge back against the faded green velvet. It already smelled like cigar smoke and you knew that it was where Stan smoked his nightly pipe after dinner, the velvet holding the strong scent of tobacco and Stan's ancient cologne. You hadn't had a cigarette since you were pregnant with Rosemary, but there was something about the drama of smoking one that you couldn't pass up.
Stan turns into the living room, but his foot hits something solid where nothing should be and he pauses.
"Roberta?" He says again hesitantly. "Did you move the couch?"
She wouldn't answer him, couldn't answer him. Killing her had probably been a mistake, but when you realized that she was an ex-hero hired by Stan as an extra precaution to make sure no-one entered his apartment, it had made you feel better, especially when she tried to electrocute you, which had surprisingly slowed you down, but not enough to spare her life.
You hear Stan's fingers fumble against the light switch on the wall and the hiss of his surprise when his hand comes back sticky and wet.
You can see him clearly in the darkness, Homelander's x-ray vision meant that you'd never have a problem seeing in the dark ever again. You watch Stan's nose wrinkle in disgust, confused at the discovery, but then watch as he reaches again and flips on the light, his eyes leveled at the ground trying to figure out what it was that he stumbled onto.
His security detail had come to sweep his apartment as they did each day thirty minutes before he arrived home, and it had been the last thing that they had ever done. The blood from the bodies was soaking through the hardwood floors and trickling down to the oriental rugs below Stan's modern living room furniture. The thick copper smell of blood was everywhere and you weren't sure how he missed it.
You hear the sharp intake of his breath as he sees the bodies, traces the ripped limbs and headless forms of his pathetic security detail at his feet. There were others in his bedroom, one in the kitchen, and another hanging from the horns of a moose head over the fireplace at your right where you sit, the blood flowing thick down the beige wallpaper and dripping onto the once pristine floors. There were nine in total, and although the past version of you would have maybe felt some remorse for their deaths, you were finding it difficult to, especially after realizing what you had.
"It's hard to find good help these days." You arch your brow taking a drag from the cigarette perched between your index and middle finger. "I'd say you paid too much for their service given how easy they were to dispose of. I'm kind of disappointed, thought that they'd be a bit more of a challenge."
Stan looks up from the bodies, eyes wide, to see you sitting there in the armchair. There was blood flecked over your shirt, on your jacket, in your hair and on your cheeks that you hadn't bothered wiping away, you figured that there would be more soon and you didn't care.
"Y/n." He keeps his voice composed, but you can hear his hand shift to his pocket for his phone.
It doesn't get far.
You telekinetically pull him over the back of the couch and force him on his knees in front of the ornate square coffee table poised in the center of the room. His hands palm down, fogging the glass with his body temperature. His body is outlined in bright purple, completely at your mercy and under your control, your own eyes glowing bright purple.
You allow yourself to take another drag of cigarette and let a cloud of smoke trickle out from your full lips. "It's good to see you Stan. How long has it been? Ten years? You look good better than my teammates did anyway."
"I was wondering when you were going to drop by." He says tightly eyeing you. "Are you going to keep pretending that you're not Indigo?"
You smile and laugh at him. "I think I'm done pretending."
You weren't surprised that Stan knew. When you'd seen him at your art show all those years ago when you moved back to the city you had suspected he knew, not to mention that he had called Legend to ask about you. It was unfortunate that Stan knew, because now you worried who else knew, but you also figured that the cat was out of the bag as soon as you fought Homelander.
Plus, maybe the secret would die with Stan.
"Is Ben here?" Stan asks, and you hear the way his voice sticks on Ben's name. His eyes shift to the dark corners of the room as if he believes that Ben will materialize from the shadows.
It's like him to be more afraid of Ben than me. No one was ever afraid of me. I was just Ben's little friend, another supe that they could dress up and put on display. They should have been afraid.
"No, I came alone. Thought I'd give him the night off."
"I’m surprised you let him back into your life after everything that happened." Stan replies, but you don't miss the twitch of his body as he tries to escape the grip of your powers. He wouldn't. Your hold was unbreakable for someone like him. If you had decided to use your powers on Ben or on Homelander, you were sure that it wouldn't hold them for long, they were too strong.
You examine Stan again. His body is rigid in your hold, head tilted up to stare at you, hair flopping forward into his face from when you yanked him over the couch, and his knees are pressed into the blood soaked carpet on the living room floor.
You knew what he was doing, he was trying to get inside your head, try to make you turn against Ben the way everyone else did, but you wouldn't fall for it, not again.
"Well you did you best to keep it that way, didn’t you Stan?"
"I don't know what you're talking about-" Stan's words are cut off in a gasp as your telekinetic grip tightens on his body, squeezing him tight for a moment before you release the pressure, but keep him where he is.
"Do me a favor, don't lie to me. It's insulting, plus we're old friends." You smile sweetly. "And I always love seeing my old friends. Especially ones who stabbed Ben and me in the back."
Your glowing purple eyes flick to the large painting on the living room wall. It's one of yours, a depiction of a quiet forest from your last show. It was weird to see a piece of the new life you crafted hanging there. "I'm flattered you bought one of my paintings."
"You always were talented. I was disappointed that you didn't start trying to sell them earlier. Probably would have sold more when you were a hero,  could have enhanced your image." He says, but you can hear the edge beneath his voice. He's trying to keep conversation, make this diplomatic, when he knows there's no way out. You’d made sure of that. No one was coming to help Stan Edgar.
"I sell enough now. Thanks though." Your body stands from the chair, listening to the rapid beat of his heart in his chest, and gesture to the collection of tobacco pipes that line the mantle beneath the body of the security guard. "My dad had a pipe just like this one." You stop at a simple one, not carved, plain, a dark cherry wood that tapered into solid black. "Used to smoke right before he went to bed every night. I spent a lot of time sketching him sitting in his chair by the fireplace, learning what he looked like, tracing the plains of his face." You take another long drag from the cigarette.
It was hard to think about your father after all these years, you hadn't thought of your family in a long time, not when you had Rosemary and Lou and now Ben. But you could still remember those quiet evenings when there was a hint of a chill in the air and your father would smoke his pipe and listen to music from the phonograph he had in the corner while you sat at his feet and drew him. Sometimes your mother would join him with her own embroidery in the matching arm chair next to his. As much as you never got along with her, you could see how much she loved your father and how much he loved her.
"I'd never met Homelander in person before a few days ago. I'd seen his face on billboards, on energy drinks but never in person. I would have realized it years ago if I had." You trace the gentle curve of the pipe with a fingertip, exhaling another trail of smoke.
"Realized what?"
"I'm only going to ask you this once Stan." You pause as you turn to look at him. "Why does Homelander have my father's nose?"
It was obscure. You knew that. But it was what you had realized the other day when you were looking at Rosemary, the one feature that distinguished her from Ben, the one piece of yourself that she had, was the same one that Homelander did. You suspected that the smell of hair dye you smelled when you met Homelander for the first time was to cover up the brown hair that he must have shared with Ben, just as the makeup on his cheeks would cover the familiar freckles Rosemary had. They could have been twins, you could see it now.
Stan doesn't breathe, his muscles straining under his suit as he silently fights for his freedom, his heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears, but he doesn't answer you.
Your eyes glow a dangerous purple and the ceiling light flickers above the two of you, the sound of the static with each blink breaking up the wet tap of the blood dripping to the floor and the low pitched thrum of your powers that fills the room.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Stan swallows.
"What did I say about lying to me?" You sigh, flicking the cigarette into the full length white curtains that remain closed over the living room windows, immediately catching fire. Of course they would, you'd soaked them in gasoline moments before Stan came into the room.
His eyes flick to the flames as they reach up to the ceiling, but the fire alarm wouldn't go off, you'd sabotaged it. 
"The human body can withstand 50 pounds of pressure per square inch before it starts to crush. I’ve never crushed anyone before, mind you I’ve also never been crushed." You shrug your shoulders turning back to look at him. "But I'm very interested to see what it will do to your body."
Stan utters one word. "Please."
"It's funny." You take a step closer to him, tapping your lip thoughtfully. "I didn't ask you to beg for you life, I asked you to answer a simple question."
Stan still doesn't answer. The high pitched snap of his fingers one by one breaking is sharp as you increase the pressure on his hands , like the crisp sound of a wishbone at Thanksgiving.
Stan inhales sharply, his gaze lowering to what used to be his fingers, not quite realizing what the sound was. You watch as the realization rolls across his face like thunderclouds on a stormy day, as he realizes  they have been reduced to mush beneath your powers and a scream rips from his throat, echoing through the empty hallways, but there's no one there to hear him scream. Blood swells beneath the ruined flesh, turning his skin a sickly shade of purplish-red, before oozing through the breaks in the tissue by the sharp points of what were the delicate bones of his hands.
"Ooo. That doesn't look too good buddy." You click your tongue. "You want to rethink your answer? Or do I have to do your toes to match?"
"Vogelbaum tried to tell you at the premiere." His voice is a weak growl, eyes not raising from his hands. "I tried to tell you too, but you broke my damn nose."
"Tell me what?" You hold your glowing purple hand over him like a warning prepared to crush whatever you have to, to make him speak.
He continues to look down at his ruined hands.
"Ah-ah-ah." You place a fingertip beneath his chin, feeling the stubble of his five o'clock shadow, so his gaze is now on you. "I want you to look at me."
"Ben was a manic, crazed, he needed to be replaced. He wouldn't follow orders, wouldn't listen to us. He only listened to you!" Stan spits, his eyes filled with rage and pain. "It was easy to turn the rest of the team against him. Countess was jealous of his attention on you, it was logical that she would be the one to break whatever you two had. Even Noir was easy to convince. He always was obsessed with you after you saved his life from that asshole." More blood seeps over the glass table.
You withdraw your hand from Stan's chin for a moment surprised. You knew that Countess was always trying to get between Ben and you, but the news of Noir's obsession was new.
"What do you mean Noir was obsessed with me?"
"Oh please." Stan seethes through his gritted teeth. "Did you really think that you kept losing things? Your hair ties, your underwear, your hairbrush, even that stupid fucking necklace you always wore! Noir was harder to keep out of your apartment than Ben whenever you were out of town. Not to mention he always asked to be put on the same interviews, given auditions in films you were in. Noir was always trying to get between Ben and you, but you never gave him the time of day. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to make sure you never figured out that he kept breaking in to your apartment?"
Your body goes cold. You knew the necklace Stan was talking about, the pearl necklace that your father had given to you all those years ago, the one that you'd lost a few months before your birthday and never figured out where it went, and the one that Ben had replaced on the night he gave you everything you wanted. You had noticed some things missing, the hair-ties and hairbrush, but you thought you'd left in the hotel rooms that Vought paid for, you had no idea that Noir had been in your apartment.
Whenever he talked to you, you thought that he was being friendly, that Noir was trying to be nicer to you because the rest of the team avoided you due to your close relationship Ben, but you never imagined that he wanted to be more.
"Noir was first on board with the plan. It didn't take much to get the others to fall in line." Stan continues.
"What plan?"
"The plan to replace Soldier Boy. But it had to be handled delicately, there couldn't just be any supe that took over. It had to be someone worthy, someone who exemplified the bullshit American Ideals that Ben used to boast about in all of those ridiculous films."
"So what? You sent Ben off to fucking Russia and you replaced him with Homelander? You shoved all that American dream shit down Homelander's throat and look what you created. You created a fucking monster!"
"It wasn't supposed to be that way. Vogelbaum wanted the replacement to grow up with a mother. He saw how Ben lived with only a father's influence and he wanted a soothing reassuring person in the replacement's life."
"You're not answering my question." You snarl, your hands beginning to glow brighter as you tighten your grip on his feet, preparing to crush them into mush.
"We had the genetic material from Soldier Boy it was harder to get it from you!" Stan shouts, feeling the pressure intensify in his feet, thinking that if he answers your question you'd spare them.
You stop for a moment, tilting your head to the side. The heat from the flames on your left growing with every passing second as they spread to the other curtains on the second large window. “What are you saying?”
“Did you really think we didn’t know what you could do?" Stan almost laughs, but it comes out in a choking cough. "We knew. Your power is one of the rarest we’d ever seen. And Dr. Vogelbaum hoped that your son would have the same one, that your son would possess some quality that you had and the qualities that Soldier Boy had. The perfect weapon. The perfect supe." Stan croaks. "A supe that could adapt and walk away from death like you could. A supe that was perfectly under our control, different than Soldier Boy."
“Are you saying that Homelander is my son?” Your voice is dangerously low, no more than a snarl.
Stan swallows. “Yours and Soldier Boy.”
With those words, the bones in Stan’s feet snap loudly as they both are reduced to nothing, but crushed bone and flesh, never to be used ever again.
But his scream of pain is wiped out by the roaring in your ears as you realize what he's said, realize exactly what Vogelbaum did all those years ago, realize exactly why he asked you to come to the lab when you danced together at the premiere.
It was what you suspected, but that didn’t mean that you were any less ready to hear it. The wave of emotion that crashes over you squeezes your heart in your chest, because what kind of a monster would do that? What kind of person would take something like that from you or from anyone?
Anger, pain, shock, rage, and horror all war in your chest, grappling against your ribs, choking your next breath from your lungs, and make you feel as though your body is tearing itself apart.
You think about the hollow look in Homelander's dark eyes, remember what Hughie told you he was doing to Annie, what Hughie told you he had threatened to do, and remember what Butcher said that Homelander did to his wife. You remember how cocky and confident he was at the Twins home, how unaffected he was by the gore of the bodies on the upper levels, and remember the way he didn't seem to care that he was hurting Ben, that he killed Butcher, and then tried to kill you.
That monster is my son, is Ben's son. He's Rosemary’s brother-
You could feel the anxiety rising, threatening to rip your own heart out of your chest, but then it suddenly shifts to all encompassing rage. The entire room shakes with the force of your anger, spider cracks appearing in the drywall all around the room, the windows in the room shatter sending glass blowing outward onto the street sixty stories below the penthouse apartment, and the furniture begins to shift and slide along the floor restlessly as the flames flare bright red and orange and cause the wallpaper to curl black.
"How did you get my genetic material?" Your voice is eerily calm as you gaze at him, vision going red.
Stan looks up at you, painful tears in his eyes. "We couldn't do it when Ben was with you. He was so damn protective of you, if we tried to touch you with him around he would have torn us apart, so we had to wait for him to go shoot one of those stupid films overseas." He gasps. "Vogelbaum said that you wouldn't remember. Said that it would be just like a bad dream.
You freeze when he says that, the memory of the nightmare that had plagued you for decades flashing across your mind, every detail becoming crystal clear. The voice of Vogelbaum telling the nurses to hold you down, the smell of his breath, his face gazing down at you from between your legs with a sickening smile on his face, while you tried to clear your head, the sound of your own screams ripping from your throat as you tried to fight the drugs they pumped into your system to keep you quiet.
"Egg extraction was difficult." Stan coughs, blood appearing on his bottom lip. "You killed two nurses and two orderlies. Almost killed Vogelbaum."
"I should have." You spit savagely. "If he was here, I would make him suffer. How could you do that? How could you do something so inhuman-"
Your body doesn't feel like your own, your skin is too tight, your next breath catching in your lungs, and a shudder of absolute disgust shakes through your bones. You feel the urge to throw up, to expel whatever images you can, to purge yourself because it meant they had been inside you, touched you, defiled you in a way that they believed was justified. Disgust, shame, horror and pure uninhibited rage shift along your skin in waves crackling in the air around your body. Everything you know is a lie. Everything that you thought you knew about the past nothing more than shades of gray.
"In the name of science there is no boundary, no limit that cannot be surpassed." Stan tries to smile, but it comes off as a grimace and as soon as he opens his mouth, his entire front row of top teeth rip from his mouth and land on the glass table, flecking blood over the surface.
Stan sputters, choking on the blood, eyes widening in pain, but he continues, his voice sticking around the holes where his teeth once were. “Vogelbaum tried to tell you that night. Tried to get you to come to the lab but you refused. He wanted the subject to have a mother, a figure that he respected, a way of reigning him in-"
"You have taken everything from him!" You snarl grabbing Stan by the throat, raising him to your face. "You have denied him the right of family. You made him into something inhuman something unrecognizable-"
"We didn't do anything." Stan cannot hold on to your wrist, tries to raise his ruined hands to place them against you skin, but they only slide off leaving smears of his blood against your flesh. "You chose this. You did this to him. You denied him a mother. We tried to allow you into his life and you refused."
"Don't you dare turn this on me. What you did to my son is not my fault. You turned him into a monster because you wanted a puppet, a weapon you could control. What Homelander became is all you and Vogelbaum. It has nothing to do with me." You throw Stan back against the opposite wall. "You made damn sure of that."
He lands in a heap, tries to rise to his feet, but the ruined stumps no longer work so he props himself up against the wall,  taking shallow breaths, blood trickles down the corner of his mouth.
But Stan doesn't stay on the floor long, you raise him up, his body glowing again bright purple as he slams back into the wall, arms outstretched, legs hanging limply beneath him as he gasps for breath.
"When Butcher's wife had her son, Vogelbaum was happy he got another chance. Happy that Ryan had a mother figure to rely on, but Ryan has not turned out anywhere near as powerful as your daughter.”
Your jaw tightens as you tilt your head, fear breaking through the rage and numbness that has begun to build beneath everything else.
"What did you just say?"
"It took us years to find her, but as soon as I saw her at the art show ten years ago I knew. She's the spitting image of Ben. So we put things in motion."
"What things?" You snarl, tightening your grip on his chest so tightly that you hear the cracking of his ribs.
"Her ability to keep powers for 24 hours is unmatched. She’s almost indestructible. Almost as indestructible as you. She was so helpful in our development of our Temp V.” He exhales in one breath sharply, wincing in pain.
"What?" Shock grips you tight, holding you in place.
They used Rosemary for that? For the shit that Hughie and Butcher shoot up?
"The scientists at Vought couldn't figure out a way to temporarily give someone powers." Stan gasps. "But her blood was just what we needed to understand it."
"You took her blood?" You roar, the furniture in the room flipping back towards the door, crashing against the walls.
"She gave it to us. When I approached her she was adamant about not telling you. You were so against being a hero again and having her do anything connected to Vought.” He smiles around the holes in his mouth. "She agreed to help us if it meant leaving you alone. But-" Stan swallows again, gasping out another breath that sounds like a wheeze. "We were always watching. Always have been watching. There is no where you can escape us, no where you can go to get away from us. You think you're free?" Blood trickles over his dark lips and down his chin, but he continues to smile. "You never will be. And when your granddaughter finally develops her powers, she won't be either. Vought is already prepared for her, nothing can stop it."
Your face hardens at his mention of Lou, anger flaring deep in your soul, rational part of your mind no longer in control. There was no semblance of the control you were so proud of left.
You didn't know who you were anymore. All you knew was that this man had taken something from you, stripped you of what you were so long ago, and he would pay. Because you'd be damned if he was going to take Lou away too. If he really had already gotten to Rosemary, you'd failed her, but you wouldn't fail Lou.
You take in a breath, but the cold numbness is quickly coming to pick away at the heat of your rage, filling your chest cavity. "You've always been a snake, slithering your way to the top, choking the other people who challenged you, slimy, pathetic. You were afraid of Ben all those years. Cowered in the fucking shadows from his rage, afraid to speak, afraid that he would be your end. You were wrong Stan. You should have feared me instead. Because I am the end of you."
"Y/n please-"
But his next words are lost in the blood curdling scream that rips from his throat as his body begins to cave in on itself, the snapping of bone and the smell of blood filling the room as his limbs flatten and shrink into his body, ribcage caves in to his torso, his head crunching down into his neck until the thing that was Stan Edgar is nothing more than a soccer ball sized lump of flesh and ground bone, dropping to the ground with a sickening wet thud.
The flames lick at the walls behind you, steadily curving around the room as you stand there. Stan's blood is soaked into your hair, dripping down your cheeks, but the heady copper smell is obscured by the smoke that floods the room.
Despite it all you can't hear the sound of the flames, can't hear the sounds of the city below, can't feel the heat of the fire, can't feel the stickiness of the blood as it coats your cheeks. There's a buzzing your ears, that comes after Stan's death. An uncontrollable shudder shakes your body as you stand there in the ruined room, the cold feeling unfurling from the center of your chest like the petals of a flower. You can't feel anything, not rage, not shame, and definitely not remorse.
Because everything you know is a lie, everything you knew about Homelander, and now everything you knew about Rosemary. And if she hid that from you, what else had she lied about?
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A/N: I did try to warn y'all. This chapter was a lot, and completely out of my comfort zone and I really miss writing the happy fluff 😭. But this chapter had to be done. And honestly… the reader's Homelander is showing. Somethings I think he may have inherited even though he was kept apart from her.
If you'd like to read something a little happier please try my series:
Take A Chance On Me
Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)
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itsnesss · 3 months ago
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hiii, can u do some thanos head canons? sfw or nsfw whichever you’d like i love your fics btw <3
𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ᡣ𐭩 | thanos (player 230)
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warnings | explicit content, nsfw, mention of drugs, power dynamics, toxic relationship?
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Being with Thanos is like living under a constant aura of greatness. It makes you feel small in comparison, but not in an unpleasant way. It's as if he were teaching you to look at the world from his perspective, with his ideas.
He is always attentive to your well-being, ready to intervene at any moment to ensure you are not in danger.
It's not easy to win their approval. Every step you take is under their critical gaze, but that forces you to be better.
The effects of the drug sometimes make him more introspective, and in those more vulnerable moments, he shows you unexpected gestures of tenderness, as if he were seeking comfort in you, even if he doesn't admit it.
Being with Thanos is an emotional rollercoaster. Sometimes, his spontaneity is what attracts you the most; you never know what to expect. He makes impulsive decisions, but that gives him a unique energy, even though it can be a bit exhausting.
He can go from the height of euphoria to a state of deep sadness in a matter of minutes. While that can be confusing and complicated, it makes you feel closer to him because you know his vulnerability is there, even if you don't always understand it.
He defends you from everything that threatens him, even if sometimes you are surprised by how strong or unpredictable he becomes.
When the drugs have him in a calmer state, he approaches you as if he needs you to feel balanced. He hugs you, looks at you intensely, and in those moments you know that all that really matters to him is you.
He is not afraid to take risks and, although sometimes he makes you feel insecure, he drags you along with him on his adventures. Even though his impulses scare you, you always have the feeling that in the end, everything will turn out fine.
Thanos is unpredictable even in intimacy. Sometimes he is incredibly passionate, while other times, his emotional attitude makes him more distant or even indifferent.
Under the influence of drugs, he becomes more raw and direct. He is not interested in playing games; he just wants to feel something genuine, something that makes him escape from his emotional confusion.
He takes you in an almost ferocious way, as if he needs to make sure you are completely his, although his desire is uninhibited, it is not always gentle. There are moments when it seems like he marks you, and he enjoys it.
Sometimes it pushes your limits, seeking something new or different. It can be risky, but the tension it creates between you both is palpable, leaving you in a state of total vulnerability.
He is a man who wants to know all your desires, your most hidden fantasies, and he encourages you to express them without fear.
If he wants it, he gets it. You can't resist his kisses, his caresses.
He's a beast in bed, but outside of it, he's a sweet man who only thinks about your pleasure.
And no matter what you wish for, he always fulfills it.
Do you like oral sex? Great. It will leave you trembling with pleasure as it licks you clean.
Do you want me to whip you? He knows exactly the point where you need to be.
Would you like to be fucked animalistically, without any reservations, just feeling? Perfect. He'll make you feel his cock and his teeth on your neck.
Do you want to be possessed like a slut, without him letting you breathe? He will. He will fuck you without stopping to caress you, without stopping to kiss you.
If you just want to feel the pleasure of being with a man, for him to caress you, kiss you, and speak sweet words to you. Well, he can do it too. He will do it gladly.
And if there's something he doesn't know how to do, he'll learn it just for you. Because the only thing that matters to him is your pleasure and your orgasms.
But he always takes care of your feelings. If something scares you, if you don't want him to do it, he won't insist.
And if you don't want anything else, if you just want company to talk and do something, that's fine too.
But... Don't be surprised if on a normal night, without thinking, he grabs you by the arm, takes you to the bedroom, and fucks you like an animal.
Not even during the day, he approaches you from behind and slaps your butt while whispering in your ear that he's going to fuck you as soon as you get home.
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crazy-pe3p · 5 months ago
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been thinking about c!scott and his relationships with others lately throughout the life series
the flower husbands, they were never married. but scott still cares, he sill holds on tight to it all, he hasn't stopped caring. he never left the flower valley, but jimmy's forgotten it completely until scott brings it back up to him. scott did everything he could to keep jimmy safe, did everything for jimmy. his attempted deal in limited life, an attempt to see who jimmy held close to his heart, for just the slimmest chance that maybe, just maybe, jimmy still cared for him more.
mean gills… an odd and unlikely pairing, after scott and martyn were constantly at each other's throats in every series prior, yet they worked so well. yet scott, despite all the trust and care he had for martyn, was eventually stabbed in the back. he knew it was to happen anyway.
then there was impulse. and gem too, though despite how much she cared for both her scotts and was a great leader of the team… impulse hits a little different to me. the way he kept himself from harming scott, even though it would have helped with achieving his new task, unlike gem, who lept at scott once he was no longer giving them gifts.
joel is a peculiar one, and i don't think i have to speak much about him. always, always after scott no matter what, possibly aware of his ability to just survive, and unwilling to let him win again. or maybe just because he doesn't like c!scott. who knows. i, a scott viewer, don't.
there's pearl, of course. started off good, then in double life, things had just flipped. maybe it was from his experience with jimmy, getting close and then being distant in the next game, that when he found out it was either his closest ally from the previous game or his enemy, he went a bit cold. maybe he was expecting him and pearl to split and distance from each other, just like he and jimmy did. their relationship wasn't romantic but it was just as close of a relationship, just platonic. maybe he realises, as he stays friends with cleo in limited life, that it's not always going to go wrong, and as he tries to grapple with this, pearl retaliates with a slightly similar relationship to theirs from the season prior (double life). things seem to be lightening between them though, as more seasons pass.
it feels like sometimes, "outsiders" treat scott just a bit better than his old teammates did. he keeps giving and giving and giving and every now and then he takes, not enough to make up for what he gives away. allies, not the close allies/teammates but other teams who are simply allied with whatever team scott's a part of, support him a little more. compliment him. they give back and try not to harm him. so do scott's newer teams. (kind of.)
i don't know. maybe it's just me but this is just how i feel (looking from a character perspective) about them…
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thecertifiedboykisser · 4 months ago
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Ok, big post with all evidence pointing to ratio being from amphoreus and some pointing against it.
Some leaks are in here!!! Be warned!!!
1-design stuff
Some notes, the style of clothing is very similar, most if all chrysos heirs have the same eye stuff that ratio has some just aren't colored (you can see it on some of the models in the trailer or the art at the end of the first trailor)
Spirals are a big thing, as well as the belt with the fabric (idk what it's call im sorry) and it draping over their legs. The blue stones and gold stuff.
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Might be a bit of a pull but in the 3.0 live stream, dr.orange kinda looked like him, but I might be going insane.
Mydei and him have very similar eyes as well (I'm using mydei as a ref point bcs he's the only male from amphoreus we have splash art for to work with) same shape, puplies similar shape
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I'm sure there's other design stuff and I might add it later. But for now this is all I got.
2-story elements
Now, this is more the lack of story, ratio has nothing but crumbs for his lore, where he's from, anything about him. Even his character storys aren't told from his own perspectives. The only time he really talks about himself is when he's referring to his goals or his love of books and baths.
He also doesn't have any clarification on where he's from other than the Intelligencea guild, and that's just a faction. There's no mention of his home planet at all.
On the official wiki. There are some that are classified as cosmic but we know the home of (boothill, acheron, Sunday, rappa[iffy, we know some details, like it was under dr.primive, but we don't know it's name so idk]) and some that we don't because it doesn't matter to there lore bcs there wanderers. Like sparkle, blackswan, and argenti. But dr.ratio doesn't fall into any of those categories. His home planet is vaguely mentioned as they have a bunch of stuff on him, but that's it.
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It seems to matter to his lore, as you'd want yo know all about this great doctor, yet he's a complete mystery. And the quests don't help either.
He's not made for penacony or the space station. He even calls himself a supporting character, his character story was about others and guiding the trailblazer through helping them. He was solely there to help aventurine in penacony. Barely anything for himself.
That lack of knowledge tells me what I need to know. Either he's purposely keeping it a mystery, or it's gonna be figured out later. I mean if he is from amphoreus, he probably keeps it a mystery bcs how the hell is he gonna prove it's real.
3- What proves it's not real.
So, there's all this evidence, but it's lacking or doesn't make sense in some areas. Most of these points were brought up on tiktok by @/veritasratioenjoyer they make some really good points in their post, and its what inspired me to make this:)
So. It's stated in the livestream that the people of amphoreus have no concept of the outside world, meaning it's very unlikely that he's from there, considering how well known he is and that he follows the path of the erudition.
Veritasratioenjoyer explains it alot better than me so go check there video out.
If you have any more to add, feel free to in the reblogs! I do read them all:)
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tanobatcher · 2 months ago
Text
first kiss
wolffe x jedi fem reader
summary: a night out with your friend reveals a curiosity you want to explore outside of your jedi commitments.
warnings: nonchalant final boss wolffe and suggestive content
a/n: in my head, this is a continuation of moonlight with some time skip obv ~~ but i'm not listing them together since they are completely separate scenarios without any reference to the other. it's kinda fun thinking about this one shot with that background context tho idk but i'm saying this from a writer's perspective since i love a good buildup in general. also i'm mourning my first kiss fr i wish it was him :(
another note...i think i have a problem with cliffhangers but ig that's my style atp
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
79's is loud, dark, and busy. It's exactly like the kind of place you were advised to stay away from as a youngling growing up in the Temple. There are all sorts of enticing opportunities that might tip anyone's self-control over the edge, opening doors your duties keep locked out of reach. It's not a rulebook you follow, though. It's a code. One that cautions against addiction—whether the item of interest is alcohol, money, or something less tangible like the ecstasy of interpersonal connections.
Sex. In other words.
"Is it always like this?" You mutter, unsure where to rest your eyes without staring at the entangled bodies scattered around the bar. But the intimate proximity between every pair doesn't unsettle you as much as the fact that they're all attached to each other by the mouth in addition to all the other places where they're shamelessly grabbing each other. Their movements are lazy and drunken. Unsurprisingly, this is the most popular commodity found at 79's. The pretty women, all exotic and eager, always turn heads and stimulate competition among the men simply trying to ease their nights during this difficult war. You understand their innate desires, even if you're forbidden to feel them yourself.
"I didn't think you'd approve," comes a response. It's quiet, but you hear the "I told you so" in it.
Tearing your gaze away from a particular couple directly in your line of vision, you glance up at your remaining company—the only person who didn't split off from your group in search of something else. His eyes are sharp as they meet yours, but he looks tired. You know this because his posture is relaxed for once, not at its usual state of stiff attention. It's obvious he's also bored, which is ironic. This is the only place where someone like him can do whatever he wants. Or so you believe.
"Why not?" You reply, not stopping a defensive edge from seeping into your question.
The answer is clear to both of you despite being left unspoken. You're a Jedi. Just a couple of hours ago, you had to clarify the rumored myth circling across the Grand Army of the Republic that "Jedi can't have sex." They can, you said. We can. They just can't form attachments. They can't fall in love. They can't feel anything more than what they choose to do, which never fully made sense to you as a youngling. It still doesn't. And still, you abstain from anything that jeopardizes your honor and denies your code. Wolffe might not follow the same way of life as you, but he knows what it means to walk that fine line. It's only natural someone as committed as him does, really.
"It doesn't feel like you approve either," you continue when he seems to ignore you.
"I don't not approve."
You roll your eyes at this clear avoidance of your statement. "Well, believe it or not, you don't exactly appear as if you're having a good time."
"Yeah?" He exhales a little roughly and leans back against the wall with an expression even more bored than before, "What does that look like?"
While his figure seems to take up more space as this conversation progresses, yours shrinks and attempts to hide from his judgmental demeanor. Still, you point out, "You're completely sober."
"So are you," he says, eyeing you warily.
"I told you not to hold back on my accord."
Irritation flashes across his gaze, but it's so brief that the moment nearly slips from your fingers. You're more focused on him than you think, though, because you suddenly feel something warm and angry radiating from his spirit. But why? Which one of his nerves did you strike this time? That always seems to be the case with him, which also begs the question of why he's even here. With you.
"I don't want this," you vaguely gesture a hand between the two of you, "To be a thing. You can have fun tonight, you know. I heard that we won't be on Coruscant for very long."
He only seems to hear the first part of what you just said since he merely repeats, "A thing." The two words put together on his tongue sound a lot more menacing than you give him credit for. Cringing at yourself as subtly as possible, you try not to reveal that you're secretly questioning your ability to hold a proper conversation with him outside of your battles and briefings. Embarrassing yourself is the last thing you want to do, but maybe he's banking on it.
"I'm saying you don't need to babysit me. I'm fine," you brush off, feeling your face grow hot as your eyes dart around the room instead of looking at him.
He hasn't moved an inch—not even his gaze—as he replies, "This isn't babysitting."
In any other circumstance, his short and vague reciprocation wouldn't frustrate you like it is now. But you’re dizzy from the noise and flashing lights, while a tight knot burns an ache in your lower stomach. It's humiliating to think that such an unfamiliar yet normal environment is causing your body and mind so much discomfort. It's even more humiliating to admit this aloud, especially to someone as unbothered as your commander.
"So, what is it?" You unintentionally snap, "Because I don't know why either of us is just standing here while everyone else..."
Wolffe raises his eyebrows at you. "Then we'll leave."
Your head turns toward him with incredulity. "No, that's not what I meant. You can stay, if anything."
"So, you're leaving."
Sighing, you fold your arms over your chest and cast another glance around the room. "Is that what you want?"
You sense his surprise, which can't even be confirmed by the look on his face—only your intuition. You're forced to expose more of your own truths when he asks, "Does it matter?" instead of revealing whatever he's feeling for once in response to your questions.
"A little," you hear yourself telling him unabashedly, "I wouldn't want you to feel like you can't...do anything when I'm around."
He scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes at this, not even bothering to respond with anything else. You don't miss the slight curve of his lips that indicates his amusement, which can only be intended toward how out of place you feel at the moment. Funny to him, maybe. You can barely hear yourself over the blaring music as you shake your head and mumble, “Never mind. I’m being childish.”
“I’m sure things are different at the Temple.”
“Depends. Some Jedi know their way around.”
The breath he releases almost sounds like a chuckle, deep and close to your ear. “Guess you missed out on that.”
A joke, you think to yourself as you turn your body fully toward him. He’s already facing you, shadowed and distant beneath this lighting. Still, you see him clearly. Everyone else in the room is hardly recognizable, passing through your peripheral in blurry figures and faces while he remains still and centered before you. The music suddenly feels quieter, and the conversations seem to die down. You can hear yourself better when you tell him, “I’m trying not to…anymore. Miss out, I mean.”
Waiting for his reaction, you sink your teeth into your tongue just to feel that momentary sting without drawing blood. It’s a silly confession, but it’s the honest reason why you’re here tonight. You want to know what it’s like to feel that high everyone whispers about. Even if you forget all about it by the time the sun rises. Even if just for a second that sensation enters your bones and spills into your blood. Even if you regret it, too. The way you see it now, you would rather live with that than not know at all.
Wolffe looks displeased when he replies, “This is the worst possible place you could have chosen if you wanted to fuck someone tonight.”
Embarrassed again, you frown and say, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You couldn’t have meant it any other way.”
“There’s more than just sex. Don’t you know that?”
He startles you when he crosses his arms over his chest and leans closer just enough to make your heart race for reasons you’re afraid to unpack.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” he murmurs.
The softness of his tone sends a chill down your spine, contrasting the furious warmth in your face. It doesn’t take much to understand the implications of his words. But you’re not sure why they leave a bad taste in your mouth. It almost feels strange to imagine him in any of the situations occurring around the bar—hookups, flirtatious conversations, and much more when someone offers to go to the back or even leave this place. And just like that, when it’s all over, it’s never to be spoken about ever again. The art of detachment, which is somehow very aligned with the Jedi way.
“So, you do know how to have a good time,” you lean forward as well, “I thought you might have been just as lost as me.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint.”
“It’s not a disappointment. I’m also not surprised.”
He pauses with a guarded expression before carefully responding, “No?”
You shake your head. “No. You’re attractive. They’re attractive. It makes sense.”
He flicks his gaze to your outstretched hand as you vaguely gesture to some of the available women circling the bar before looking back at you. It doesn’t seem to bother him that you just made an extremely unprofessional statement just now, but you feel a tighter pull between the energy that flows from his spirit to yours. The reaction is there—he simply does a good job of hiding it. Unable to ignore this, you take a step closer to him and smile.
“I wouldn’t kiss and tell either,” you lightly touch his arm with a few fingertips, “We don’t have to make it a big deal.”
That flare of anger from before returns as he grabs your wrist and pulls back. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I do,” you disagree, “And I’d feel safer if it was you. We’re friends.”
He makes a face that almost has you believing he’s in pain for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure before you can ask.
“If you’re scared, then you shouldn’t be considering something like this at all,” he says coldly.
“I’m not scared. I trust you.”
He stares at you in disbelief and squeezes his fingers as if he’s trying to convince himself to let go. Before he can follow through, though, you step between his legs and clutch him by the forearms. This sudden movement brings your faces much closer together, and you can hear the ragged breath he takes once he realizes you have him cornered.
“Don’t do this.”
“You can say no.”
His eyes narrow as his jaw clenches. “Just for you to find someone else.”
You pause upon hearing the venom in his tone. “Does it matter?”
He holds your gaze, knowing you’ve taken his words from before. It’s another chance for him to admit anything he’s hiding, whether from you or even himself.
“It does,” he bites out, “If you’re going to be an idiot and not think this through.”
“I have thought it through. It doesn’t need to mean anything.”
“So, you jump in some bastard’s bed tonight, and the whole Republic finds out about it. What then?”
You wrinkle your nose at this hypothetical, which feels exaggerated and unnecessary to consider. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”
“I wouldn’t,” he glares at you, “But I’m also not offering that chance.”
“Because you don’t want…”
You don’t finish your sentence, realizing you sound more desperate as this conversation progresses. Snapping your mouth shut to process the rejection sinking in your stomach, you nod and begin to pull away from him. But he doesn’t let you. Studying his face with curiosity, it’s clear that he’s much angrier than before. The burning, hot irritation is simply climbing higher and higher the longer you stay near him like this. So vulnerable as if you’ve given yourself up to him. He’s not holding you by the wrist anymore but by the hips with both hands now, shifting your body closer and greedier.
“Let go, Wolffe.”
“You’re being naive.”
Averting your eyes from his, you look down where your frontside is nearly flush against his. “I don’t need a lecture.”
“What you don’t need is to sleep with someone just to feel better about yourself.”
“Isn’t that what everyone does?” You hesitate before pushing at his chest a bit, “What you do?”
When he doesn’t answer your question, you’re certain there’s no point in staying here any longer. You turn your head a bit to look around, but he seems to mistake this as an indication of your next destination—someone else. It’s unclear why he even cares, especially if he’s turning you down like this. That is, until you feel his hands travel across your upper body. His touch isn’t heavy at all, hardly burning holes through your clothes, which tells you he’s still trying to be careful. But the weight of this action is a lot more difficult to bear than the actual experience itself. He settles his palms across your waist, spreading his fingers out as if to cover as much surface as possible. It’s almost too gentle for someone like him.
Turning back to him, you nearly lose the breath you were just about to exhale. It gets stuck in your throat, constricting your insides into a whirlwind of squeezing nerves. This is the same Wolffe you’ve known for a couple of years now. The same Wolffe who’s never made any move to touch you if he doesn’t need to. The current look in his eyes is wildly different, though. It’s the reason for your pause as you try to recognize the hungry darkness threatening to swallow you whole. And maybe, if you push a little harder, it just might.
“You want me,” you whisper, “I can feel it.”
He closes his eyes. Opens them slowly. “Careful.”
But you’re already treading dangerously. Inhaling a deep breath, you let your body lean into his touch a little more. Closer. Even closer when he applies some pressure to his hands. He’s looking at your lips in anticipation of a kiss, which is becoming imminently unavoidable with the little distance that remains between your stolen breaths. Nervous, you steady yourself by bracing your hands against the solid plane of his chest and feel some vibrations when he finally speaks.
“I’m not kissing you just so you can prove your point.”
Your lips part as your breath hitches upon hearing how hoarse and desperate he sounds despite the indifference in his words. You almost have him where you want him. Time seems to slow as the room empties, but only in your imagination. All that occupies your consciousness is you and him in each other’s arms.
“Then kiss me because you want to.”
You hear a soft curse sound from his lips, and it’s almost sweet. It’s not rough and mean like the version of him you’re used to. The version of him you suspect you’ll still like, even after this whole situation becomes a forgotten memory. Maybe it won’t even make it to that point, because he still hasn’t kissed you. You pull your head back just a bit with the intention of saying something, but that only worsens his irritation. It also provokes the reaction you’ve been waiting for. There’s something impatient about the way his mouth claims yours, even though he’s the one who wasted all this time in the first place. Both of you are wondering the same thing, though. What took so long?
Your eyes flutter shut as he slows the kiss, letting it linger before pulling away. Still holding you close, he rests his forehead against yours while catching his breath in a few short exhales. You can see his heavy-lidded stare through your lashes when you open your eyes, also breathing deeply to savor the last of what’s already gone. But just as you accept this is over, he cups the back of your neck and leans in for more. And when he kisses you again, you know this time is the real him—the one that isn’t holding back anymore.
You gasp against his mouth when he pivots your bodies and pushes you into the wall that was just behind him. While you’re too far gone in his embrace to care if anyone sees you like this, he seems to remember your status outside of these walls. Covering your figure with his, he takes your surprise as an opportunity to kiss you deeper. His lips part yours wider with a low groan that wracks a shiver through your shoulders. He feels you tremble against him in that moment, caressing your jaw with the hand cupping your neck. His other arm holds you steady, gentle unlike the way he’s kissing you now.
It’s almost hard to keep up as everything intensifies. He’s still kissing you slowly, but it’s not lazy like the speed might suggest. Everything about the way his lips open and close over yours, sucking roughly when you sigh, speaks to his calculating nature. You wind your arms around his neck and drop your face to his chest when he nudges his thigh between your legs, applying just enough pressure to stimulate yet another foreign feeling you want more of.
“That feels…” you gasp softly as he slides his thigh deeper between your legs and kisses your neck, “…Good.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he groans into your skin.
You shake your head and tighten your arms around him, afraid he’ll walk away now when you finally have what you want. “I don’t care. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“To you.”
The response sounds bitter as it gets lost in another kiss you’re not sure who initiates. All you can feel is his mouth slipping over yours with barely any air to breathe between your kisses. He pulls back just to kiss you again—harder, angrier, and rougher as if to tell you something he can’t admit aloud. His hands are now clutching at your clothes, dragging slightly before pausing like a reminder of not to get carried away. You feel the feverish desperation beneath the fabric, though. You want to feel it even closer if it means feeling him closer.
“Wolffe,” you manage through another kiss.
“Mhm?”
“We can leave. Go somewhere else.”
He seems to consider it as he sucks on your neck just above your collarbone, but it isn’t until he pulls back and sees your face that reality sinks in. Your stomach drops when his expression blanches, growing cold and distant once again. The regret is clear as it writes itself all over his hard stare, one that you never expected to be so disappointed to see. Maybe if you hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have ruined a moment that never belonged to you in the first place.
“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, even though you know the exact answer.
You. It’s you.
“This…was wrong,” he lets go of you completely and steps back, closer to the crowd that’s about to engulf him into disappearance, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
You try to reach for him, but he’s already so far. “Wolffe, it doesn’t—“
“Stop,” he avoids your touch, “I can’t.”
Some wounds sting at his words, but they bleed when he leaves without sparing you another glance. It’s suddenly so noisy once again, suffocating you with shitty music and boring conversations you don’t want to overhear any longer. The air has grown stale, but you still taste him on your tongue as his figure joins the blur of everyone else in this loud, dark, and busy bar.
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