#it should be illegal for a show like this to have better music than most music anime | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

Note

Saw that requests are closed but I'm itching to share one scenario. He's a playboy & party animal. She shows up at his party. He's immediately interested. Trying to seduce her but she's tough. At some point she makes a comment about his last race. Then he finds out that she knows a whole lot about racing. People tell him that she got dumped by another playboy who she met at illegal street racing event when they both participated. Now she despise all the playboys but the F1 driver takes it as a challenge to prove that he's way better than her ex. Idk with who. Maybe Gasly? I'm just horny for that man

Playboy || PG10 {1}

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x mechanic!fem!reader Warnings: bad language, alcohol, violence WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

Pierre slapped Charles' chest as he draped an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “Who’s that?” He pointed a ringed finger to the dance floor where you were dancing alone, eyes closed and hips swaying sensually to the beat.

Charles laughed and shook his head as he saw who Pierre was looking at. “Don’t bother, mate. She’s not interested.”

Pierre watched you start to sashay your way to the bar with an empty glass and swallowed the last mouthful of his own drink. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink before following your path.

“Hennessy on the rocks,” you ordered above the music. You probably should have mixed it with something but you weren’t in the right state of mind to think about the consequences. You only wanted to get drunk fast.

“Make that two,” Pierre said as he stepped into the narrow space beside you, half his body pressing against yours. “Put ‘em on my tab.”

You dragged your eyes over the man and knew his type in an instant. Self-assured and cocky, the top buttons of his shirt hanging open to show the sun-kissed skin beneath. Yeah, you didn’t need another guy like him in your life. “I can get my own drink, thanks.”

“An independent woman, I can appreciate the sentiment,” he said with a smirk that promised a whole lot of fun between the sheets. “Do you have a name? Or should I just call you Beautiful.”

“Wow, does that line actually get you laid?“

“Ask me again in the morning.”

You grabbed your drink from the bar top and turned your back as you rolled your eyes, making your way through the crowd to lose yourself in the music once more. When you chose your spot in the midst of the other dancers you weren’t expecting to feel an arm curl around your waist, or to see that it belonged to Pierre. Most men knew to keep away.

“You must have hit your head pretty hard when you crashed last weekend,” you said as you looked down at his hand splayed across your abdomen. Rings adorned his fingers and thick veins popped along his muscled forearm before disappearing under his rolled up sleeves. “Or, you’re just not very bright.”

“So you know who I am,” he chuckled in your ear and you tipped your head back to meet his eyes.

“So you don’t know who I am.” Your laugh was taunting and you hoped it would send him off with his tail between his legs but he seemed to be even more intrigued. “I’ve been with guys like you, Gasly. Playboys with fast cars only want a pretty face in the passenger seat, and that just doesn’t do it for me.”

“Then what does?”

His lips were only an inch from yours and you realised your bodies were still moving to the beat, his chest flush with your back. Turning to face him, you planted your palm in the centre of his chest and felt a chain of a necklace tucked under his shirt.

“You’ll never know,” you whispered as your breath kissed the shell of his ear before pushing him away. “Goodnight, Pierre.”

“À bientôt, Beautiful,” he replied with a smirk as he held his drink up. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I told you so.” Charles had watched his friend leave the dancefloor alone and shook his head when Pierre arrived back at his side. “Not. Interested.”

“That one was feisty, but I would argue she was very much interested.” Pierre took a sip of his drinked and inhaled sharply at the burn of the straight alcohol. “Jesus,” he coughed before stealing Charles’ cocktail. When his chest was no longer on fire, and the taste was washed away with the fruity mix, he jutted his head in your direction. “So, what’s her deal?”

Charles sighed, knowing Pierre wouldn’t give up until he knew everything about you and your past. It was the past that you were trying to forget as you ordered another drink and slapped away the wandering hands of men foolish enough to think they could take you home.

“To start with, that’s Leo’s ex you were grinding with.”

“From Street Kings?” Pierre’s eyebrows raised when Charles confirmed it with a nod. The Street Kings were well known in Monte-Carlo for dominating the illegal race scene along the Côte d’Azur and Leo was their top driver. The only thing the Street King was known to treasure more than his car was his Queen. “Shit. What happened?”

Charles shrugged. He was as clueless to the information as Pierre though there were certainly rumours whispered in the streets. The Street Kings were like a family and they kept their business close to their chests, all he knew was that you were no longer welcome in their home.

“She’s trouble, that’s all I’ll say.”

The heat of the bodies packed close on the dance floor became suffocating so you stepped out into the balcony. The fresh sea air filled your lungs and the cool breeze tousled your hair, making the moment almost peaceful. That was all ruined when a hand roughly palmed your ass before squeezing it and you placed your glass on the tabletop.

“Remove your hand before I break it.”

“Don’t be like that, baby,” the man said, his hands still on your ass. “Good girls don’t dance like that unless they want to be touched.”

You turned and tilted your head with a flirty smile that had the guy’s ego inflating even more. His hand came to rest on your hips and you caught Pierre’s eyes from across the room. “You're wrong, I’m not a good girl.”

He licked his lips and looked like he had won the lottery. “It’s my lucky night.”

A soft laugh passed your lips as you reached up and tucked a strand of his bleached blond hair behind his ear. His hands slipped lower to the hem on your short dress as he grew bolder and you rose on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Wrong again.”

You hated to be reminded of Leo, but you used a move that had taught you for self defence. You trailed your hand down his arm as if you were admiring his biceps before reaching his wrist. Turning with your whole body, you stepped back and twisted his wrist in one fluid movement. It was over in a second but the shock lasted longer as the man stared at his limp hand before realisation hit him and his lips parted before he screamed at the pain.

Walking away, you gave him one last glance over your shoulder. “I warned you.”

“See,” Charles said with a shake of his head. “Trouble.”

Pierre laughed to himself and watched you cross the room like you hadn’t just completely ruined the man. “Like I said, she was interested.”

“You, my friend, are a sucker for pain.” Charles sighed at the determined look in Pierre’s eyes and clapped him on the back. “Bonne chance.”

You were still nursing a hangover when you rolled up to work five minutes late on Monday morning. The guys in the garage knew to keep their distance the moment they spotted you arrive with dark sunglasses over your red eyes and an extra large coffee in your hand. They had been on the wrong side of your bad moods before and didn’t want to be there again.

“Charles�� bringing his car in. He asked for you specifically,” Giorgio said after he waited for you to finish your coffee and deemed it safe to approach. “I told him it would void the warranty but he still wants you to service it.”

“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust those Ferrari mechanics to service a scooter, they obviously don’t give two shits about how his car runs, as we have seen.”

“Did you see him at the party? Was he there?”

You rolled your eyes as it only took 30 seconds before he wanted to hear the gossip. “Of course he was there but, before you ask, I didn’t talk to him.”

“Seriously? What a waste! If you’d’ve taken me…”

“Boo-hoo…You can embarrass yourself fangirling over Pretty Boy when he gets here.” You sent him away with a wave of your hand and grabbed your oil stained work shirt from your locker as the roar of a V8 filled the garage. Leaving the staff room, shirt in hand, you went to meet him and found a dark blue Aston Martin Vantage pulling in behind the black Ferrari 488 Pista.

The pair of sports cars parked side by side and you rolled your eyes when you saw who was climbing out of the Vantage. Pierre looked good in a casual white linen shirt, the buttons opened once again, and he tucked a pair of Ray Bans into the deep V of the shirt as he walked to the front of his car and leaned back on the hood. The only difference between his look on Saturday and now was the cocky attitude had been replaced with confusion.

“Hello Trouble,” Charles greeted warmly, twirling his car key around his index finger. He leaned in and kissed your cheeks before waving a hand to his friend. “I believe you two met already.”

“Hi Beautiful,” Pierre said with a smile as he managed to recover from his surprise.

“Playboy,” you nodded before turning your attention to Charles. “The usual, Pretty Boy, or do you have some concerns?”

“You two know each other?” You could hear the accusation in Pierre’s voice and the devil on your shoulder started to whisper in your ear.

You chuckled as you looked at your steel cap boots and kicked the loose stones on the asphalt. “It’s a small city, our paths have been known to cross on the odd occasion.”

“She’s one of the best mechanics around here,” Charles added.

“Ouch! Only one of? Last time you said I was the best you’ve ever had.”

“Is that right, Pretty Boy?” Pierre asked before running his tongue over his teeth and pursing his lips together.

“Working on my cars,” Charles clarified as his cheeks turned pink.

“He keeps it so clean under his hood,” you teased as you licked your lips seductively and gave him a wink that deepened the shade of his blush. “It’s always a pleasure to get up close and personal.”

You laughed as Charles whined your name before sending a pleading look to his friend. “And that’s why everyone calls her Trouble.”

“Trouble by nature, Trouble by name,” you said as you gave him a mocking bow. “So, standard service or…?”

Both men seemed relieved to have the topic return to something safe as Charles answered, “Just the standard service.”

“Perfect, but I hope that’s not your ride home,” you said as you pointed to the Vantage.

“Why not?” Pierre asked as his palm came to rest protectively on the warm hood.

“Did you seriously not hear it?” Your brows pinched together and you scanned their faces to see if they were messing with you. As a mechanic, it would be negligent to let a car leave your garage running anything but perfectly so you sighed and pointed to the driver’s seat. “Start your car, Playboy, and pop the hood.”

Pierre unlocked the hood and you found the latch to release it, lifting it up as he turned the engine over. He left it idling as he joined you at the front and you looked down at your graphic T, not wanting to ruin it.

“Hold this.” You shoved your work shirt into his hand before pulling your top off. You had been around the garage guys long enough that working in a sports bra didn’t even earn a second glance but Pierre wasn’t one of your colleagues and he couldn’t stop staring. “Eyes up here, Playboy.”

That cocky smile of his finally made an appearance as you took your work shirt back and tossed the graphic T at his face. “What?” he asked innocently.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned over the engine and tipped your head to one side. “What do you hear?”

Pierre looked at Charles who just shrugged. “An engine?”

“Gold star for you,” you murmured as you watched the manifold vibrate. “See that? Yeeaah, it really shouldn’t be doing that.”

Pierre joined you in leaning over the engine and a gold cross necklace swung out from beneath his shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you mentally ran through the possibilities in your head. “It’s a misfiring cylinder, but there could be…half a dozen reasons why. Let me get my scanner, unless you have somewhere to be?”

“Nothing I can’t miss,” Pierre smirked as he settled against his car and rolled his sleeves up. “Charles can bring his car back another day, right, Pretty boy?”

“Please don’t call me that,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ll come back tomorrow, Trouble, and leave you two to your date. Don’t expect him to actually help, he just got a manicure.”

Pierre laughed at the good-natured banter and looked at his neatly trimmed nails before winking at you. “I don’t mind getting my fingers dirty.”

There was always a nervousness that settled in when someone watched you work. It didn’t matter that you could take an engine apart and put it back together, the moment an owner started paying attention to your work, your palms would turn clammy.

That didn’t happen with Pierre.

After Charles departed you had driven the Aston Martin into one of the empty bays and grabbed your scanner, plugging it into the ECU as Pierre let his curiosity spill forth.

“How did you get into all this?”

“Same way you got into racing, I should think.”

“Your father?”

“He used to own this place,” you pointed to his name on your shirt, the same name on the signage of the shop. “I grew up here. Always thought I would own it one day.”

You tried not to dwell on the thought that had escaped and instead focused on the diagnostic software as it ran its cycle. Clearing the lump in your throat, you checked the readings on your laptop but Pierre had caught the change in your tone.

“What’s stopping you?”

You looked up from where you were crouched beside the front seat reading the data and cocked an eyebrow. “Despite what Pretty Boy says, this isn’t a date, it’s a job. So, unless you have questions about your car, please shut the fuck up.”

He didn’t even appear taken aback by the acerbic words as he leaned against the car with his arms folded comfortably across his chest. “Fine by me, Friday night works out better for me anyway.”

“What are you on about?” You stood up and went to the tools, grabbing a wrench before heading to the open bonnet.

“Our date,” he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world and followed close behind. “You know, dinner, drinks, personal questions.”

You paused from loosening the bolts that held down the protective covers around the manifold and pointed the wrench his way. “Yeah, you lost me at ‘personal’.”

He smirked and wrapped his hand around the end, giving it a tug and pulling you closer as you refused to ease your grip. You stumbled into his chest and your free hand grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself, smearing black grease over his white shirt. “Then I’ll settle for dinner and drinks.”

You swallowed at the closeness and tore your eyes away from his lips to fall into the trance of his eyes instead. “I’m not interested, Playboy.”

His smirk only grew and his laugh tickled your cheek as he dipped his head to whisper, “If that were true you would have broken my hand.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you whispered back before sighing. “You’re not going to let this go are you?”

“Not a chance, Beautiful.” Pierre brushed his lips over your cheek and your stomach did a little flip. “You better think of something else to call me, because I’m going to show you I’m not a playboy.”

“You might prefer Playboy when you hear the back ups I have,” you snickered. “Should I go alphabetically? A is for asshole, B is for b-”

“Boyfriend. No way, that’s what I was thinking too.” He grinned and it was infectious. “We’re already finishing each other's sentences.”

“You’re a bastard,” you said with a laugh before realising you were still standing chest to chest with him and took a step back. “You have one chance, one date, that’s it.”

He let go of the wrench and clutched his cross necklace to kiss it like his prayer had been answered. “That’s all I need.”

“Now can I please fix your car?” you asked with a huff that didn’t hold any of the annoyance you pretended to have. “You can’t pick me up in a car that’s not firing on all cylinders, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I thought your reputation was breaking hands,” he teased.

“It’s actually breaking balls, you just caught me on a bad night.”

He winced and cupped himself as you chuckled and turned back to the car. “That was a joke right?”

You didn’t give him an answer as you held your closed fist out to him. “Hold these.”

“What are they?” he asked as he came closer to take them.

“Your nuts.” You unfurled your fist and laughed as he saw what you had removed with the wrench. “If I find out you are a playboy…consider this your warning.”

Click here for part two.

#pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf

936 notes · View notes

deblklesb · 2 years ago

Text

[Angel of the small death — Sevika × Reader OneShot]

[ballet dancer reader, bodyguard Sevika, smut (MDNI)]

Summary: Being Silco's daughter it's not some simple thing, especially thinking about the necessity of being guarded at all times. When a conflict starts, Sevika, his best employee, becomes your main bodyguard. It turns out things escalate a little bit until you bout break the tension.

a/n: boy oh boy this is BIG and it took me more time than i expected. this was an anonymous request so i can't tag the person who did it, but i enjoyed writing this, thanks sm! I'm so sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy it, anon! 💗✨

cw: some violence (a loose member), blood, smut (cunnilingus, masturbation, fingering)

not proof read | 5.2k words

[reblogs are highly appreciated!]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Living is such a weird concept; that's all you can think about as you look through the songs on your playlists, laying on the bed. Nothing seemed to draw your attention, the assignment of your last class in mind created an urge to find the answers to your inspiration. It was a good thing, exactly what you needed now, and you couldn't let it slip through your fingers.

The plan was to show your teacher how capable you really were. Composition wasn't an easy thing, and even though you loved that subject the song was a major part to determine your next steps on that project. So you were searching restlessly, seeking for that high only an insight could provide, as fast as you could.

You had to interrupt your plans, though, when the screen of your phone showed an incoming call.

"Hi, dad", the other side of the line was weirdly messy, he usually tried to get a quiet place before calling you.

"You need to go to my office. I see you there in ten minutes"

"Is everything okay?" You sat on the bed. His tone wasn't usual either.

"I'll explain later. Now go."

When Silco tells you to go, you go.

The fact was that you didn't like your dad's work. All the illegal shit surrounded the places since you could remember, even if he tried hard to cover it in front of a kid. The whispers and smiles, usually opportunistics but also nervous, the feeling of being treated like a rare piece, the fear exhaling from people who knew what was happening but couldn't tell. You saw how everyone feared the slender, incisive man.

For quite some time you thought you should fear him too. But, for better or worse, he was a different person when he was with you. And as you grew old, he started to explain the situations and dynamics to you, teach you things, show what you could have. In your late twenty's now, you could use a gun and threaten people using an infinite amount of goons, but you definitely rather not.

Another thing he did was give you whatever you wanted. And some would say that wasn't a good thing, but it wasn't all that bad either. I mean, come on; he would let you go to the water park and in exchange you wouldn't miss behave, it was actually a very fair agreement. So he let you play with puppies when you were young, go out with your friends when you were a teenager and, most importantly, he'd encourage you to be a professional ballet dancer.

Thinking about his honesty and open conversations, you entered the crowded building right before David, your bodyguard, ignoring the loud music, usual from a never ending night at The Last Drop. Since that was a common scenario for you, stopping to look around and enjoy the mood wasn't necessary. Your father's tone on that call was enough to make you walk upstairs, directly towards his office at the end of the hallway.

Aside from what you feared, the scene in front of you was actually kinda unsettling. For sure he was a man that started to tell you stuff while you grew up, but a bloody finger on top of the table was new - it wasn’t attached to a body. Red stains on the wood were shining under the lights, contrasting too much with the green bathing the room due to the big glass window behind his desk. The finger had a cross tattooed on it and a golden ring, both now looking uncanny under the crimson that drew too much attention from you.

“You didn’t have a tattooed finger before”, was all you could say, almost out of breath.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

Your eyes wandered around; there was the only unfamiliar thing, and still was capable of making you feel uncomfortable. It was a surprise for yourself, the girl who beat a school colleague at seven years old because she called you a bitch. Silco tried very hard not to congratulate you too much that day, speaking politely with the principal but also making a point of not allowing that other girl to get an apology from you; she was cursing you, not the other way around - and it wasn’t just because some childish argument, the fact that you were from Zaun made you a target of mean looks and disdain all around Piltover while growing up. That girl had it coming (a broken nose) and you got a popsicle. So, yeah, blood wasn’t that out of your reality, but for some reason that detached finger made you change the weight from one leg to the other, breathing deeply.

“What happened?”

“Some idiot had the idea of snitching, we lost a guy who was in Rebecca's factory.” The well dressed man pointed to the bloody, sole body part. “This was her way of telling she found out about our plans”

“Point made, I guess”

“I just called you here so we could arrange things with David.” You frowned, looking over your shoulder to the serious, suited man behind. “I’m assigning someone else to guard you from now on. At least until this troublesome, unnecessary hostility ends”

“You’re trying to invade each other’s business, I’m pretty sure it’s not that unnecessary, dad”, the amount of discomfort was making you uneasy. That conflict was growing too much, a finger wouldn’t be the most alarming body part to appear around.

As much as your dad had had numerous conflicts around, the tension between Glasc Company and your father’s business took a turn when Rebecca decided to sell drugs herself. Losing territory, the one he fought too hard to get, was very unpleasant.

So, with quick heartbeats and perspiring palms, you watched as your father gave David some papers and instructions. The tall guy nodded, turning and offering you a smile - probably for the second or third time, which made it look very off-putting for him.

“It was very nice working for you. I never said a thing because it wasn’t part of the work”, it was more words than you’ve ever heard from him. His voice was different that you thought based on the monosyllabic answers he always gave. “but your book recommendations and songs were good. Thanks”

“Well, that’s more than I expected, I genuinely thought you hated me.” You chuckled. “It was nice having you around, David”

Then he left the room and you were left with your dad and that stupid finger, Silco seated on his couch and grabbed a cigar. “Aren’t you going to grab that finger? I thought it was rude to show it around for nothing”, you seated next to him.

Even though your father wasn’t hurt, the aspect of where that war could lead to made you think about very violent and scary endings. He was a good criminal, but still a man, a mortal one.

“I need someone else to see it” He crossed his legs as you got closer, laying the head on his shoulder before he pulled you closer on a sided embrace. “She’ll come soon. Until then, tell me how your classes are.”

He always did that, since you were a kid. Being on a college level didn’t make that much of a difference in his eyes, at least about that topic. He would listen to you talk about muscle pains and lame history classes, instrumental music, group dynamics and upcoming events. It was simple and chill, but it was his way of connecting with you in an area he didn’t know a lot about, aside from your yearly spectacles.

“This new assignment seems tiring, darling” He observed. “But, like they say, break a leg. You will be just fine”

Before you could make a joke about his use of theatrical sayings, the door swung open to reveal a tall, cloaked woman with short dark hair. The look on her face revealed dissatisfaction when she traveled it from the detached, bloody finger to you; the same you knew very well from everytime you both crossed paths. The same one you couldn’t forget for two days after receiving it.

She just stood there, silent, hands on the side of her built body, looking directly at you as if she was waiting for something - or someone. You could involuntarily lose yourself under the grayish orbs, as much as you hated this fact, but an insight struck you.

You backed off your father, turning to stare at him, not getting a single word in response. That must be a joke.

“You can’t be serious”, the tone in your voice was almost desperate. He couldn’t be doing this, right?

“That finger points otherwise”

・・・・・・・・・・

Telling David you thought he hated you was a silly comment to cool the mood. Saying that Sevika probably hated you was an understatement.

The first time you met she had just been hired and you both made a scene when she didn't believe you about being Silco's daughter. When your father introduced you officially, she just looked annoyed and bit back some unpleasant comment, knowing very well that it could cost her work.

Since then, you haven't spoken peacefully with each other. She always had a snarky comment about your classes and the way you behaved - which, to be fair, she wasn't kinda wrong; every year you realized how stupid you could've been the year before, maturity didn't come out of nowhere. Sevika herself got more mature too. She was probably five years older than you and with much more life experience, but she wasn't the holder of all knowledge and could be very judgemental too.

Putting you together wasn't a choice your father made for nothing. Sevika was his best employee. She fought better than anyone and would prioritize your safety at all costs, since it was her job now. That meant that if you wanted to go somewhere, Sevika had a saying on if you could go or not. If you wanted to visit a new place, it had to be checked before. If you wanted to stay up all night practicing in a studio you rented - because your apartment wasn't that big in order to not draw too much attention -, she had to be there and also get more people to guard the building.

And that's exactly what was happening right now.

A month since the finger incident, with Sevika being your bodyguard. She didn't look pleased. And you could say you weren't either… But that would be a massive lie.

Because you liked her looks in your direction when you were getting out of classes, and you liked the way she rolled her eyes at your bad jokes, the ones you did solely to annoy her - you were very mature but you also loved to annoy her. You liked to stand next to her on coffee shop lines, instead of being in front of her, and you liked to dress better just so she could give you a look from head to toes whenever you got out of your apartment in the mornings.

Honestly, who could judge you?

You didn't realize those things until a week later after this whole shit started, when you tried to get off one night and accidentally imagine her. It was a very embarrassing moment and you forced yourself to sleep as soon as you got back from that high, but the image didn't fade away. The image of her towering you and kissing you, pressing her body against yours in the most desperate way. You got off imagining kisses and intimacy with Sevika. Not necessarily pornographic scenarios, no; just the thought of her lips on yours and how she would react when feeling you on her fingers, her face and the words she could say, the heavy breaths. That turned you on. The feeling of being so close you could feel the heat and your heart beat faster.

You don't know what is the worst part: coming when imagining Sevika, or the fact that what got into your mind wasn't even that explicit. It was so simple, it made you pissed off about how she could affect you with so little.

But it was just a fantasy, a distant and unrealistic one. She didn't like you. Right?

Right.

That ideas were fucking you up bit by bit. At this point it was difficult to practice, head far gone, not in the slightest focusing on that amazing song you got to choose - La Danse Macabre was one of your favorite pieces and fit the theme well in your vision. So you needed to compose a four minute choreography and you have been practicing it for four weeks straight. You'd go from classes to the studio every day, staying up until late. Your feet hurt, your body was most definitely not that used to the extra effort, but it would be worth it. Not to brag, but it was kinda dope.

So there you were, looking at yourself in the mirror, trying to convey all the feelings you needed to: the sensuality of death, calling the viewer in the most subtle and dangerous way at first, but ending up being beautiful.

Your body gesture had to be on point with the postures and the weight of the moviments, it wasn't easy the fact that you would present it alone.

At some point, you didn't know when, you noticed Sevika on the corner next to the door. She was just there, quiet, looking at you.

Her presence threw you off. You slipped a little, losing timing and concentration. "Fuck", you hissed.

The song stopped when you reached your phone to pause it. Looking at the time, it had been three hours since you arrived. Your legs were sore and, honestly, the concentration was so little that just the image of that woman was enough to make you lose it. Tiredness and frustration got into you, making you sigh and turn to her. She didn't move an inch.

"What are you looking at?" That sounded more harsh than you wished.

"I thought you were a dancer. They usually are looked at, anyways", she didn't seem to diminish anything there, or to bother by your tone. That fucking look she had, the one that told you how you wouldn't get anything from her; it was nerve-wracking.

You thought you saw her eyes wandering through your body, but it probably was just some illusion.

"Yeah, I guess so", you shrugged, trying not to notice her posture or to imagine her torso under that cloak. And shirt. Numerous thoughts came back; no, illusions. Fantasies. Sevika holding you and her breath against your skin, would the feeling of her torso under your palms be so pleasant? Would her lips be so good on yours? Would the warmth give you butterflies? "Do you like what you see?"

The fact that you said "see" and not "saw" didn't click immediately; you weren't talking about the dance.

Sevika gulped. She gulped while analyzing your body on that collant and pantyhose, thinking about how your would skin feel under her touch. How she wanted to hear you calling her name and gasping, while she tried to make you feel so good like you never felt.

The looks weren't just your imagination. The way she noticed you dressing a little bit differently, that was real. And she'd spent the day trying to focus on her work and not laughing at your horrible jokes, or not feeling too good about you succeeding in your classes and beating all those snobs' pilties. She wanted to congratulate you about the choreography and say how she would follow you without question if you were death, because dying under your hypnotizing moves would be a blessing.

She wanted to say how you could do whatever you wanted to her.

So that question was so timely. The smirk on her full dark lips made you shiver, a feeling pooling on your stomach, anticipation. Gods help you, the need to kiss her was so fucking overwhelming now.

"I do, actually", Sevika said. "I like it very much. It's a gorgeous view"

It could be all. That moment could end and you'd never mention it again, leave it like water under the bridge. But, oh, you wanted to drown. You wanted to drink that water, savor it, until that thirst ended.

So you gave a step. And seeing her chest moving with a breath, you gave another. You walked towards her carefully, like she could escape any minute, and when you were finally close enough that pressure seemed to crush your chest, taking the air from your lungs.

In your life it wasn't that many times you'd sweat before kissing someone. And yet there you were, palms perspiring because Sevika wasn't moving.

"Show me how you like it, then", you said. "I'm a physical, practical learner, by the way"

She chuckled lightly, looking away and then to you again. That could literally cost her life or yours.

You could be the angel of her small death, and Sevika would die happily.

Throwing all the reasoning away, she finally touched you. She pulled you close and erased the space between your lips, poisoning herself in your taste and your tongue. Your mind flooded with stimuli: her lips and tongue, her shoulders under your hands, the weight of her touch on your hips, the imaginary scenes your mind created to make you ask yourself about what you both could do.

The small moan that escaped between the kiss made her hold you tighter, dominating that moment with her need. Her hair felt soft, intertwined with your fingers, and the muscles pressing yours made your head spin. It must be a gift from the goddesses.

It didn't matter the other guards outside of the room or the building, right now it was just you both.

"Show me how you like it", you whispered, untying her cloak to reveal her strong torso and shoulders covered by the dark shirt. "How you'd like to take me"

She groaned, kissing you again and pulling you by the thighs, forcing you to wrap the legs around her as she walked to sit on a simple couch there.

The feeling of her body under your touch was capable of numbing your thoughts, skin warm and scarred. Her kiss was so fucking intoxicating, consuming you from inside out while she grabbed your flesh.

When her lips traveled through your chin and jaw, going to your neck, you sighed and moved the hips on her lap. Your fingers got the elastic off her hair, letting the strands fall loose around her face as you pulled back to look at the woman. The dark grayish eyes and the full lips, beautiful nose, that jawline, some scars around; Sevika was so pretty it took your breath away.

"I don't think you want to spend all the time looking at me, princess", she murmured and her voice made all your body respond. The smirk added to her movements to lose your hair from the high bun; fuck, you were out of words. "What? Did the cat get your tongue?"

"I'll look at you a lot later", you finally said, fingers caressing her features as she analyzed you closely. "Now I really need you to handle me around"

Sevika's smug was something so intimate to you, something that, you swear, could make you go insane.

She pulled the straps of your leotard, eyes still glued to your reactions as the cool air reached your nipples, making you sigh. Without wasting any more time, Sevika held you by the waist with the prosthetic hand and used the other to play with one breast. A warm tongue tasted the other one, and she was so careful to let you feel every inch of that contact. You felt that throbbing between your legs more intensely the more she twisted the muscle, savoring, tasting. Her thumb and index finger played with the free nipple, shivers across your body making you breathe heavily with the sensations.

Your hands worked on feeling every muscle you could, hips moving because the sensations spreading from between your legs through your body were getting more and more prominent. Her tongue was soft, but your attention got divided by the cool prosthetic hand pulling the leotard. You didn’t want to separate from her, but you had too.

Sevika kept looking at your body as you pulled away, getting up between her strong legs. And she analyzed as you started to take off the clothes and the pointe shoes. Being under her sight like that was something else, you could feel your heart beating across your whole body, getting heated and desperate. Her demeanor, the laid back posture, spread legs and trenchant look got you wanting to get on your knees. And that’s what you did.

Throwing the fabric pieces away, you started to unbelt her pants and pull the zip down while squatting and kneeling. She’d stare at you, at your easy hands and light touches going especially fast to open the clothing. The contrast between this and the way you looked at her could make her go impatient, but she held back the instinct to do everything on her time when seeing the hunger growing in you.

“I thought you wanted me to handle you”, she smirked while raising the hips to take away the pants, after doing the same with her shoes. You helped, caressing the muscular thighs with admiration in your mind. Fuck, she was so beautiful.

“And I hope you do”, you kissed the right thigh, trailing up slowly until you reached her crotch. Under the shirt you saw her abdomen contracting in response and the chest expanding with her heavy breaths. “Never rode someone’s face?” You smirked, right hand touching the side of her body, up and down.

As you imagined, she then proceeded to lean in your direction while a hand grabbed you by the, now, loose hair. It wasn’t hard, but enough to make you throb and, for sure, get more wet. When she noticed your reaction was positive something shifted. Her pupils blown, and you could notice the mood changing by the glit in her eyes.

She got so close the tip of your noses bumped, silence crushing you while she made sure you wouldn’t falt back. And then, you could swear, Sevika got a bigger hunger in her. “Finish taking this shit off”, she said.

You needed a second as she laid back again. She arched an eyebrow as a cue for you to pull the boxers off, and as much as you tried you didn’t paid a single fuck to where that piece of fabric went. Not when Sevika drew you closer with a single ministration through your head, pulling you to her core as your heart beat faster.

She was wet and, fuck, she looked so appealing. Your mouth watered as you rested the hands on her bare thighs.

“Tongue out”, you obeyed.

Sevika finally pulled one last time and a satisfied, low sound got out of you, as you finally tasted her. And, oh, she was delicious.

Her hips started to move, the vision from that angle would never fade from your mind. She was enjoying this, dragging her core on your tongue, holding you there so you couldn’t leave, using you to her pleasure. And your mind was getting too crowded with that much information in the best way. Your pussy clenched when she moaned low, nipples somehow getting even harder to the point of hurting. Her taste was being scattered around your mouth and you wanted to be there for your whole life.

“Flat your tongue”, and you did, with a rush that made her smirk. Her abs would flex with her movements, so as her thighs.

Having Sevika riding your face was something so heavenly, so divine. You almost envied those girls in the brothel, who could get to do it so much, but then you'd remember that this woman was so worked up already because of you.

Her bud against your palate, the juices going on your lips and chin, the expressions due to the pleasure that came to bestow her, the loose hair falling on her face and the muscles contracting. The little wet sounds of your tongue against her core made the situation more erotic, and at some point you started to move the muscle that was in contact there. It drew a moan from Sevika, who was using the left arm to sustain her weight while she rubbed herself on you, seeking pleasure.

The more the seconds went by, the more Sevika loosened herself. She started to fault in her moves, twitching and spasming as her dark gray eyes ate the sight of you so eagerly tasting her. A small moan escaped, followed by a growl and her legs spreading more.

Your hands flew to her breasts under the shirt, palming the warm flesh, searching for her nipples as you hummed against her core. The vibrations pleased her.

The way you started to flick your tongue heavily got the tall woman groaning and pressing your head harder against herself. You saw the frown and the way her eyes rolled before closing, her body tensing, the shaky and sharp breaths as you felt her getting excessively wet.

"Fuck–!" She gasped, a smirk on her full, attractive lips. "So good, princess", her words were as smooth as the caresses the woman made on your hair, still spasming everytime your tongue drew on her swollen bud.

The flavor was divine; you thought as you palate went on her entrance. The fact that you could taste her forever made you hotter, eager, needier.

Sevika leaned and pulled you again, making you sulk a little at the distance from that heavenly position. But then she got you back on her lap, against her chest, legs open.

Even though no one else was there, you felt exposed. As if your secret were being revealed and, suddenly, the whole world could watch as your most recent forbidden fantasies played out.

The way she held you there, prosthetic hand under a knee as the other one traveled around your naked body, creating heat paths on your skin. Her lips distribute kisses along your neck and shoulder, taking sighs from you. And underneath all of it was an overwhelming heartbeat that got you panting at the sensation of her touch going south.

"Shit, you're dripping", she whispered, getting your attention. You turned to look at her, lips parted brushing on hers as her fingers went from your entrance to your already sensitive clit. "Got so worked up just from me riding your face?"

"Yes…"

Her digits, soaked, rubbed smoothly on your bud. You rested a hand on her hair, the other playing with your nipples as she tortuously stimulated your core.

"So good… Do you get that wet when you touch yourself thinking about me?"

You froze, eyes wandering around her face just to capture that smug. Despite that, Sevika didn't stop. She kept working on you, massaging your whole cunt, getting her own palm full of your moistures as you felt yourself throb. "I heard you one night. You didn't even notice you called my name, uh?"

Shit.

You actually did. With her on the other side of the door, you kinda expected that you had said it lower than it actually was, and that she hadn't listened to it that night. But it seems like life wouldn't let it pass.

"So now" Sevika kissed you, pecking on your lips as her fingers concentrated on your sensitive bud. "Let me hear you. Loud and clear"

Her ministrations were making you move your hips. Everything started to be too much, her breath against your skin, the cold of the prosthetic hand and the air. You wanted to give in entirely, wishing you were at home so she could rail you on your bed. She increased the speed, having your moans growing bit by bit.

It felt good. Too good. You kept messing with your own breasts, eyes rolling with your hips and her hand, feeling that high approaching.

"Getting all loosen up and relax for me, I might as well fuck you again tonight, princess", she hissed, taking a small smile for you as two of her fingers pressed and got inside of you.

You moaned more languidly as she moved with ease, in and out smoothly due to how wet you were. And it didn't take long until you felt that pull in your stomach, clenching around her digits and gasping, whining, a hand full of her hair as you moved without control.

The climax made you arch your back, her fingers came back to circle on your clit again as you trembled and murmured some incomprehensible words. Throbbing and spasming; that woman made you so full of desire it was ridiculous.

"Gorgeous", Sevika whispered, kissing your neck as you came down from your high, breathing deeply and feeling your body floating on her lap.

"That was some stupid shit", you chuckled, panting.

Her hands closed your legs and helped you turn a little so you could rest on her prosthetic arm and look better at her. Some sweat drops were on her forehead and the side of her neck, the dark skin glowing a bit.

"I learned a lot today, thanks", the woman laughed, accepting your touch on her face. "It was very delightful"

"I'm glad I could provide you some knowledge", her right hand rested on your thighs, thumb caressing your skin. "I hope on the future you can teach me how to make your fantasies come true"

At that, your core sent a shiver through your body, heat rising slightly. "Maybe someday I'll tell you"

Sevika nodded as you rested the head on her shoulder. She felt warm. Was it wrong to want her on your bed?

"I'll look forward to it"

・・・・・・・・・・

Your body was full of energy right now, the feeling of being on top of the world consuming you from inside out. It was almost possible to feel every molecule vibrating, twisting your guts.

"Call another guard", you murmured to Sevika discreetly while passing by her.

She followed you outside the building of Art classes, looking around as usual. The car was waiting, following the time established by orders.

The whole way to your apartment was silent. Your class came back to memory, the sensation of finally presenting the piece you've been planning for weeks now. The music took you away and, during those notes that reverberated on your flesh, no one was there. Just you and the music, working together. And it didn't feel real when your teacher congratulated you with a smile on her fine lips; she wasn't the type of teacher to smile that much. That meant a lot. It was huge actually.

But before telling anyone, you wanted to let all this energy flow to something else. To somebody else.

So you waited until a knock on your bedroom door, and you saw her getting inside carefully, confusion on her face as you asked her to sit by a corner.

Resting on your bed, heartbeat increasing, you moistened your lips. "Do you wanna know what else I fantasized about?"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[dividers by @froopis]

#sevika oneshot #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika fic #sevika x reader smut #sevika x reader fanfic #sevika x reader fic #deblklesb #arcane fanfic #arcane oneshot #arcane fic

332 notes · View notes

dissociation-station123 · 11 months ago

Text

Toyko Revengers-Hama/Izana X Reader

Mature Content:

You hide your identity and keep your head low. The best thing to do when you work for one of the biggest crime syndicates in the city. How long can you keep it that way?

You were always good at one thing and average in every other way. Unfortunately the one thing you were good at was not meant for you. A world dominated by men whose egos were as inflated as their car’s tires. Therefore you took on an identity. You became somewhat of a ghost. You never socialized and hid your figure under wraps and oversized clothes.

It was easy when all you did was participate in illegal street races. But one fateful night you caught the eye of an important figure within the community. He offered you the kind of money you could only ever dream about. To essentially be a chauffeur who could also get out of sticky situations quickly.

Every instinct was telling you not to take it. But in a world that is run by how much you earn you couldn’t decline. So this was how you became a driver for the biggest crime syndicate in the city almost overnight, Tenjiku.

“Ay y/n!”Hanma, the man who brought you in, called out to you as you waited patiently in the driveway. You kept your distance as much as you could. You avoided talking by explaining you concentrate best with earphones and music. Sometimes social interaction is unavoidable. You slowly walked over keeping your head down.

“You did a good job! Why don’t you come out and celebrate with me and the executives? You earned it!” Hanma laughed, it was deep and powerful. He slapped you across your shoulder and your body flew forward. You caught yourself at the very last minute. “Hey man you need to bulk up! I know you're just a driver but it’s good for you.”

Hanma towered over you. His body was twice the size of your own and he was about your age. Decorated in intricate tattoos, the most prominent being the ones on both of his hands. He was gorgeous but those looks were beyond deceiving.

You heard rumours that he was the attack dog of their group. When anyone threatened them he was quick to react and showed no mercy. That’s why your heart leapt out of your chest any time his attention was directed towards you. Loyalty was everything as well as honesty. You had been keeping a huge secret from them all.

“I’m ok. Thanks though…” You try your best to keep your voice low and quiet. You begin to turn around but Hanma catches your upper arm. You looked up into his golden eyes terrified.

“Come on kid! A few drinks and then you can head out! I promise!” Hanma smiled but it wasn’t sincere. You felt as if he was testing you again. You wanted to shout at him that after so many jobs you should have proven yourself by now. But you knew you could never muster up the courage needed to say it. “Come on… stop being so fucking boring!”

You nodded and gave up your hopeless pursuit of heading home to binge watch a tv show and eat junk food. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, leaning into you and you tense up. “Relax kid… I know you only feel safe with your hands on the wheel. You will have me to look after you.” You nodded again. His nose scrunches up as he assesses your current outfit. “Going to have to get you something better to wear than this hoodie and dingy ass sweatpants though.”

Your heart races once again. This is what you get for being greedy. Hopefully whatever he picks out you can still hide your curvaceous figure.

Hanma leads you inside and to a room. “Let me see. Damn your small…” He shuffles through some clothes. Compared to you!! “Wait, Izana should have something to fit. He likes his clothes to be more form fitting. I’ll be right back.”

Hanma returned not too long after with a button up and dress pants. You prayed to whatever gods existed that you could pull it off. You begin to walk towards the bathroom but he yanks your arm once again. “We are already running behind, hurry up and change.”

Your inner panic takes over, you feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Well I- uh-“ You fumble for an excuse. It was frustrating because you were usually quick to figure out a solution. Hanma looked at you with raised eyebrows, then after a few seconds burst out in a raspy laugh.

“Jesus kid! Fuck fine go! I have never met a criminal who was too shy to change in front of someone else. You're fucking weird!” Hanma berates you and you sigh in relief. He could think whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t find out what you were hiding.

You were pleasantly surprised as you looked in the mirror. You were also glad you had paid a bit more for the binder, it hid your chest perfectly, which was a difficult task. The pants were a bit big so your wide waist was still disguised as well. You frowned at your hair. You were not ready to cut it off. You decided to pull it up into a bun and it worked well enough.

A loud knock interrupted your assessment. “What the hell are you doing in there? Stop jerking off and let’s go!” The deep voice rang out and you inhaled a sharp breath. You were used to all the vulgar talk, it became background noise. But knowing that your whole night will most likely consist of it made you want to throw up.

You pull open the door and Hanma pauses for a second. His eyes look to the ground as he tosses you a suit jacket. You were not sure what that was about but you put on the last item of clothing. “You look more presentable now. So come on.” He mumbles and you follow him out. “I’ll drive this time.” You shrug and mentally prepare yourself.

You begrudgingly order a drink as you sat at the bar with the rest of the Tenjiku crew minus their fearless and deranged leader. This was really your first time hanging around all of them. Hanma was the only one you dealt with consistently. Hanma often reminded you that he was your handler so if you fucked up he got the blame for it from the rest of the executives.

“The famous driver!” A sing-songy voice interrupts your inner panic as you are surrounded by such powerful people. You glance up and are greeted by a large scarred smile. A beautiful woman and man hung off his arm like decor.

“Sanzu what the fuck are you even doing here? This is for executives and up.” Hanma hands you another glass, his palm patting your head. You look up with a scowl.

“Where there is a party you will find me!” Sanzu’s eyes observe you as you awkwardly stand between them. “So I guess executives can bring pets with them?” You mentally groan as they stare each other down. You daydream for a second on how at this very moment you would be relaxing at home with a pile of snacks.

“Hanma relax. Sanzu always brings candy.” Another executive walks up with his hands outstretched. Sanzu grins happily as he digs into his pocket and removes a pill placing it in the open palm.

“Rindou, you're too soft on him.” Hanma complains with a growl. You watch as the man now known as Rindou places the pill in his mouth and swallows. Hanma must have noticed because he is suddenly way too close. “You want one kid? Might loosen your tight ass up a bit.” A shiver travels down your spine, as he whispered in your ear. Your eyes widen and you nod.

“Nnnoo! I’m ok.” You manage to say, causing all the men to laugh in amusement at your reaction. You take a deep sip of whiskey to compensate for the embarrassment.

“This little punk is who you are always hyping up?” Rindou smirks as he follows the pill with a shot. You look to the ground feeling completely out of place.

“Hey cut him some slack. He does his best work behind the wheel. I just thought he deserved a reward.” Hanma shakes you lightly and you grumble. “A chance to chill with us. I don’t know, maybe some pussy will help him to relax a bit.” You watch as Hanma and Rindou chuckle.

You secretly roll your eyes and look back over to the pink haired man in front of you. Sanzu studies you and it makes you very uncomfortable. He gives off a carefree vibe but you could tell he was not all there. “Can I have another glass?” You ask, wanting to hurry this night along.

“Of course kid!” Hanma leads you back to the bar. You glance over your shoulder watching Rindou say something to Sanzu whose eyes never left you, a sinister smirk on his face. Goosebumps form on your arm and you look away.

“Thanks…” you mutter as the bartender slides another glass your way. You quickly drink down the alcohol and Hanma pats your shoulder.

“At least you can hold your liquor!” Hanma grins as you motion for another. “Look, you're doing really well. You have become someone I trust not to fuck shit up. I really do want you to enjoy tonight.” Hanma says as you take the new glass and follow him to sit in a more secluded area.

You listen but the warmth of the alcohol was starting to run its course. “I appreciate your calm demeanor. Hell I’m the opposite so in a way I envy that about you.” Hanma grins as you nod along. “Man of few words.” You take a sip and lean on your hand as he continues to talk.

“Tonight is also about introducing you to the executives and the four heavenly kings. Once they accept you then you will be unstoppable. Trust me. I’m looking out for you kid.” Hanma lowers his voice not to allow the other members to hear your conversation.

You take in what he was telling you. You realize you had proven yourself to him and that was the true reason he had invited you out tonight. “I respect you Hanma. I have come to understand how you are. But I don’t know any of the other execs. I honestly have no interest in power. I just want to be able to drive.” You knew the higher up you went the more risky it became.

“Kid!!! I get it! I really do!” Hanma leans back on the bench. “This is a huge opportunity.” You frown as he tries to convince you the risk was worth it. Hanma recognizes your hesitation and sighs. “Let’s just enjoy tonight. We can discuss business later.” You take another sip and nod.

“Hey…” Another unfamiliar face walks over to you both. “Y/N right?” He looked similar to Rindou but his personality was much more laid back.

“Yeah.” You answer, still observing him catiously. Hanma groans at your distrust.

“He needs a lap dance asap!” Hanma calls out and your eyes widen in panic. “Ran, get one of your best girls!” The man who had just invaded your space claps his hands and smiles.

Ran motions for you to follow him and you bite your lower lip. “Don’t worry! I’ll make sure your taken really good care of.” You look back at Hanma for help but he was pushing you to go. You glare at him one last time as Ran takes you to a back room.

A high end couch set against the wall with end table. “Go on, get comfortable!” Ran says and you take a seat but it’s anything but cozy. Even more so by the fact Ran decides to sit beside you. “I am very impressed by what you have accomplished for us. The fact that you look so innocent in person is useful.”

You try your best to keep your composure. You knew who this man was now that Hanma had mentioned his name. “I am Ran Haitana. I introduce myself with my first name since I don’t want to be confused for my brother who is beyond unprofessional. I am…”

You look down to the ground and find yourself blurting out, “One of the four heavenly kings.” Ran laughs and you look up and see him grinning.

“Precisely.” Ran mutters with a newfound interest. “So you do know how we are organized. If I went by Hanma’s judgement alone I assumed you were only intelligent when it came to a get away. But that is not the case is it?”

You made a mistake. “I just stay to myself. Which leaves me time to observe.” You don’t want to seem too useful to these men. You just wanted to remain as invisible as possible. The way Ran was studying you right now made you believe you might have fumbled. It didn’t help that you were currently a bit fuzzy due to the whiskey from earlier.

Just as Ran was about to speak, the door to the small room opens and a beautiful woman enters with a sweet smile. “Ran!” Her cheerful voice broke up the tension. She quickly dashes forward as Ran stands and gives him a tight hug. “Who is this little cutie?”

“A very valuable member. He is a bit nervous. Could you loosen him up for me sweetheart?” Ran lifts her chin and she smiles brightly as she nods. “That’s my good girl.” Ran rubs her cheek and I turn away at the intimacy. “Come join us when she is done with you y/n!”

“O-okay.” You say and Ran holds in a chuckle as he walks away. You turn your focus on the woman who is now staring down at you, avoiding eye contact. “Look I’m ok really. I just don’t like going out.” You try to reason with her. If she came in here to do what you thought then she would easily figure out that you're not what they think.

“You're so precious!” The gorgeous woman steals Ran’s move and lifts your chin to make you look into her auburn eyes. “Such a pretty face.” She licks her lower lip. You try to sit back but she takes this as an invitation to straddle you. Her light scent invades your nose and you can’t help but take a breath. She places her arms up your neck as you turn your head away.

“Please…” you beg which causes her to make an excited noise. “Mmm.” A small moan escapes your lips as her manicured nails run into the base of your scalp. You feel her begin to move her hips into your own. Your eyes widen in panic. You take hold of her hips to stop her movements.

“Shhh…” she whispers into your ear and shivers travels down your spine as she kisses your neck. You had accomplished too much to be discovered this way. “It’s ok.” Her breath tickles against your skin. The strength you did have was weakened by your drunken state. You freeze up when she leans back and begins unbuttoning your shirt, her eyes low. You grip her wrist out of sheer trepidation.

The woman stops but giggles thinking that this was merely bashfulness. “If you're worried about cameras daddy don’t be. There aren’t any in this room. Let me take care of you.” She pulls away from your grasp and before you knew it your shirt was untucked. “So adorable.” Her amber eyes take in your flushed cheeks.

“You don’t understand…” you say but one of her hands was already up your shirt the other rubbing your crotch. “Damn it…” you knew it was over the moment she sat up with a raised eyebrow.

“Excuse me, I should have said mommy.” The woman does not look startled. She wore an expression of curiosity.

This was the end. Based on how she interacted with Ran you knew she was close to him. After all this time and this was how you would be discovered. “Hey y/n right?” The woman calls out to you and you nod trying not to show how your world was crashing down around you. “I get it.”

You look at her as she gets off your lap and sits beside you. “I worked so hard.” You hear how shaky your voice was. She takes hold of your hand and squeezes gently.

“I know and that is why your secret will be safe with me.” You were not expecting this. “Don’t look at me so shocked!” The woman giggles and you find that you can’t help but smile. “It’s tough out here for us ladies. We do what we have to. Like I said, I get it. My real name is Cole.”

You were not sure what had overcome you but you turned and hugged her tightly. “Thank you Cole!” She laughs loudly and pats your head. “Thank you so much.” You felt as if you could trust her words.

“Y/N please. I actually think you're amazing. I’ve heard them talk about you.” A strange look appears on her face and you frown. “You must think I’m pathetic and vile.” You recognize the shame that has overcome her stunning features.

“What?” You say and shake her shoulders. It was your turn to comfort your new accomplis. “Look at me.” She slowly turns and you smile a genuine smile, it’s been so long since you had. “We do what we have to. I would never judge you. Based on the fact you didn’t run out of here and immediately expose me shows me how strong of a character you possess.”

“You my dear are an angel.” She grins and takes hold of your hand once again. “It’s going to be difficult since they have seemed to have taken notice of you. Just know you are free to visit me anytime.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me.” You mutter then the woman sits up. “What is it?”

“They think I am well, you know.” A sudden blush forms on her cheek and you find it endearing.

“You are looking out for me so I will do the same for you.” You assure her, “I will let them think you turned my world upside down.” Another deep laugh escapes her full lips. She suddenly bops your nose and winks.

“I mean I could still do that.” She teases and you nervously look away. “God damn it, you're so cute!”

“Pff you're cute!” You say as a defense mechanism as she stands and offers you a hand. You take it and she starts messing with your clothes. She leaves one button undone and tucks part of your shirt back in.

“There!” You look down and see that your outfit is a bit disheveled and give her a thumbs up. “I think that will be convincing enough.” She loops your arm in hers and begins to walk to the door.

When you both emerge from the other side Hanma and Ran were talking. They both look up with knowing eyes as they hear you exit. “This man right here Ran..” Cole winks at you once again as she runs her nails down your arm, “A diamond in the rough I tell you.” She slides her thumb across your lower lip seductively.

“You're making me so jealous.” Ran teasingly pouts, she kisses your cheek, whispers for you to trust her and saunters over to sit in his lap. Hanma looks at you with a devilish expression as you sit beside him, abruptly shaking your shoulders. You groan in annoyance.

“Y/N…” Ran addresses his tone more series. “Our boss has a meet up soon. I personally don’t trust it. This is why I had Hanma bring you tonight. If shit goes south I need you to be able to get him out fast.”

This was a huge opportunity that was being presented. Again in the back of your mind you wanted to refuse. “You will never want for anything again kid.” Hanma per usual recognized your weary and suspicious demeanor.

“What do you think doll?” Ran holds Cole’s waist, his hands sprawling across her thighs. “Does he have what it takes?” You wanted to tell her that she was more than what she believed herself to be. You knew seeing how Ran waited for her response that he took heed to her words. She was just as powerful as any man in this room, you wanted to make sure she knew that. You could only portray your thoughts with a sly glance her way. She caught on and smirked as she nuzzled into Ran’s neck.

“Baby he is beyond capable.” Her voice was like a hypnotizing melody as she purred into his ear. Hanma nudges my side and I push him. Ran makes a satisfied sound as she nibbles his earlobe.

“Well then all that’s left is for you to accept the job.” Ran turns back to you, his gaze more intense as he waits for your response.

“I’ll do it.” You say confidently and Hanma cheers beside you. “But I’m taking this idiot beside me in case I need some muscle. Fair?” Hanma growls at your insult and you nudge him this time.

Ran laughs and agrees to your terms. The conversation comes to an end as he tightly squeezed Cole’s upper thigh. “Well now that business is through let us get back to indulging in a bit of pleasure. What do you say lovely?”

“Ran…” Cole says amused by his desperate touch. “Such a naughty thing.” She looks over at you. “It was really nice getting to know you and that pretty little face.” She stands up and Ran follows behind.

“Hell yeah! Let’s get a few more rounds then I’ll take you back!” Hanma sounds more excited about what just happened than you felt. You shrug and head to the bar once again. Now that one of the heavenly kings was somewhat on your side you felt more at ease. More willing to let go of the wall you had built up.

“Fix your shirt!” You look down and laugh which takes Hanma by surprise. You adjust your clothes back in place and feel him sneaking glances in your direction as you order more drinks.

Hanma’s POV

Y/N was currently taking a shot with Rindou. This was the most social I had ever seen him. I felt a bit bad getting him even more mixed up in Tenjiku business. He was beyond talented when it came to handling a vehicle. I couldn’t just look past the kids' talent.

“Kid!! You about ready?” I shouted and laughed at the state he was in. He grumbles as he makes his way back over.

“I mean you dragged me out here. We could (hic up) stay if you want.” I had to steady him as he fell forward. His long hair had started to fall down into his face. His eyes had begun to glaze over and his cheeks were flushed due to his intoxicated state. He was really pretty… the thought entered my mind and I shook my head. I took hold of his shoulder aggressively and he whined. My chest felt tight when I heard it.

“I don’t think you could handle it.” I laughed trying to distract myself from this strange feeling. “Come on time to take you home!” Just as I was about to help him walk out, Sanzu intervened.

“Hanma! When did you become such a prude! Stay! Y/N won’t you spend some time with me?” Sanzu’s voice held a tone of seduction that I did not appreciate. A strange rage started to emerge from the surface.

“He is mine! Back off Sanzu…” I growled and Y/N giggled. “What’s so funny?” I ask, annoyed. Y/N looks up with a smirk and I let go pushing away from him. “Fuck it if you want to stay fucking stay. But you better be ready when I call you.”

“No Hanma! I’m sorry! I’m ready!” Y/N still looks way too amused for my liking but I feel myself calming down. I go to steady him once again and Y/N waves stupidly at everyone as we leave. I had sobered up after a while so I easily opened the door and set him into the passenger seat.

I get into the car and begin to pull out of the parking lot. I try my best to focus on the road. “It’s like you were jealous back there!” The dumb kid says giggling. I clench my jaw, not sure why the statement pissed me off so much.

“I am your handler, dumbass. I have to look out for you.” I say trying to also convince myself. I had never been attracted to men before but everytime I look over at him I want to touch him. What the hell is wrong with me? The rest of the drive was quiet.

I pull into his driveway and once again help him out of the car. “Thank you handler!” Y/N says with sarcasm and I sigh. “Ooo my keys are in my front pocket!” I lean over and try not to let the closeness of our bodies bother me. I reach into his front pocket quickly and then nervously fumble with the lock. “Hanma! I thought I was the drunk one!” Y/N laughs and I lose a bit of control.

I push open the door and slam it closed. I also in the process push him against the frame blocking him in with my body. My hand easily reaches around his throat. “Kid I joke with you but you will show me respect. I am an executive after all.”

“Hanma…” His voice was a bit raspy and his eyes rolled back from my hold on his neck. My cock twitched from the image. I pressed my fingers harder cutting off his air flow and groaned when he moaned breathlessly. Shit… shit… shit… “Please…” Y/N gasped for breath, his nails digging into my forearm. “I’m sorry…”

I step back and run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to regain my composure. “Your home. Get some rest and I will see you tomorrow.” I push past him in a rush not wanting to confront these desires I had just experienced. Y/N gives me a confused glance but nods. “God you do have a pretty face…” I grumble as I practically run out the door.

#spicy fic #smut #toyko revengers #rough smut #fanfiction #best friend #crime syndicate #tokyo revengers izana #tokyo rev x reader #hanma tokyo revengers

34 notes · View notes

chemicalarospec · 5 months ago

Text

my dad invited me and my brother to watch Firefly with him and it's actually really good??? (idk why I expected it not to be-- probably because the last time I tried one of his old Spaceship Shows (the one with the puppets) it was too sexist and too slow to get through.) First of all it should have been ILLEGAL for them to not have a single Chinese character in this show, but as a Chinese person I do like the aesthetics of the show and how they mashed up traditional Western and Chinese styles. The pronunciation is hilariously bad (IF ONLY THEY HAD A CHINESE ACTOR, HUH), but I like it because it's funny. (Me and my brother do laugh out loud every time.)

But the characters are actually so good?? First of all we got THREE FOUR (I didn't count right lmao) female main characters, no smurfette principal here! One of them doesn't even have any implied romance so far okay technically River doesn't but I was thinking of Kaylee and she has a crush on Simon lol. Kaylee, my favorite -- I LOVE how her appreciation of girly feminine stuff is portrayed as something that should NOT be mocked and does not negate her more "masculine" role as the mechanic and that she can nerd out WHILE being feminine. There's also how Mal, the main character, and Zoe, his first mate, have a longstanding and deep connection that's entirely platonic! Men and women CAN just be friends! Do note, Zoe (who is awesome btw) is married to another man, the pilot who is honestly so far the most boring character, and Mal is interested in Inara. Who, speaking of, I also love how so far Inara's profession as a (unionized it seems!) sex worker is treated with respect. River is the most ~okay~ in terms of sexist writing as a weak and mysterious and mentally unwell but sexy woman, but since she's not the only woman it doesn't feel like a big deal. (I feel like she's going to become more grounded, at least I hope so because I want to see more of her personality!) Misogynistic comments are challenged when made! Of course the writing isn't perfect but it's a LOT better than what I expected (and if a modern show didn't do the things I'm praising here I would be offended btw).

Also River's brother Simon is a complete dandy (I think it would be stereotyping for me to call him gay lmao), I love that for him. Episode one he bleeds from his mouth like a dying c-drama boy-- I just had a Vision of the resemblance and now I can't get it out of my head, all he needs to do his open his eyes super wide and then he'd be a dying c-drama boy. He cares for his sister so much, it's super sweet even though he REALLY sucks at dealing with psychosis(? would that be the term to describe her episodes?). Book is an instant icon of course, he's just there forcibly being the moral compass lol. Christianity in space smh. Despite being mr sexism I also love Jayne's character - he's funny (love a guy who's always trying to kill) and the question of his loyalty is intriguing. Mal is a kind of a Generic Protagonist Man but his backstory is solid enough that means his brooding attitude actually makes sense. The "Badger" side character is funny/interesting too, and my bro says he looks like Captian Sparklez haha. (Wash (Zoe's husband) is there. Sometimes he's funny.)

Going back to the design, I am partial to Victorian or whatever aesthetics, so I love how they threw that in along with the cowboy thing, and there's a lot of individual pieces merging Chinese aesthetics with that that I think do a great job. It speaks to my mixed heart <3. The costuming is actually so fun (mostly speaking to crowd scenes), so many characters get to wear distinctive outfits . Also kind of Killjoys vibes because they say "shiny" haha. I respect how space shots have no environment noise, only cowboy music lollll. Visual effects are interesting; you can always Tell but it does seem to me the best they could do at the time.

Wow this post turned out longer than I expected. So a recommendation for Firefly I guess! Forewarning, the parts with the "Reavers" are pretty dark/grotesque -- actually, there's significant violence throughout the show, the Reavers are just the worst.

#i said this #firefly #firefly show #tv shows #chinese school dropout life #remember when i almost changed that tag but then i failed the proficiency exam... lol #apparnelty many fans of the show are libertarian bc it's kind of liberterian in ideology lol i guess #interesting how it's described as anti-big government -- from my POV i find it inoffensive as it could be angled as anti-expansionism #revised this due to misinformation lol

9 notes · View notes

petri808 · 1 year ago

Text

Day 10 @flufftober - “love of my life” Tianshan drabble. MO’s POV

It took distance to make me finally admit just how much Tian meant to me. To think, a relationship that began with a fight and ending up as lovers was not something I could have imagined. Not ever, and certainly not with another man when I’d been simply scrapping by as a loser under the thumb of a heartless gang leader like She Li. Back then I didn’t have much of an opinion about myself other than ending up working some low wage job behind a stove somewhere and living with my mother. No one else but her cared, well, except maybe Buzzcut. It certainly wasn’t enough to make me care about myself. Why should I have? I was no genus at academics, pretty good cook and able to clean, but that just made me a servant, a slave— Big deal.

At first, He Tian wasn’t much different from She Li in that he pushed me around too. Cook for him, clean for him, drug me around on whims, scaring the hell out of me on too many occasions. And yet, it was… different. For starters, Tian paid me which was great for me and my mom since we could use the money. Tian didn’t beat me or use me for illegal stuff like getting into fights with rival gangs. But I have to say the turning point started with standing up for me and refusing to let me take the fall for something I didn’t do. Tian and Jian and Xi, the trio fighting with the school administration and using their connections, took me completely by surprise when I didn’t think I deserved their help. Buying me things and showing me another side of the world I never experienced before slowly pulled me in. Showing me what friendship really meant, well, isn’t that what we all want?

But… it’s when I saw the pain in Tian’s eyes when he found me broken and battered, and the anger he unleashed on She Li for breaking my body and spirit, then the ferocity he showed when they hurt Jian, just wow… how could it not have sucked me in? This man cared so damn much, taught me so much, it felt amazing when I scored that 80 on the test and the glimmer in his eyes of how proud he was for me. Damn, I knew then I was falling in love.

Then his brother had to take him away from us— from me, and send him to another school where I couldn’t follow. The bastard, I was so angry at first at Chen. Couldn’t the bastard see how much we meant to each other? Tch. Yeah, okay we kept in touch by phone and Tian would come home to visit during breaks, but for the majority of three years I had to endure without him. Just Jian and Xi as company, it wasn’t the same damn it! I really started to miss the times he would sneak into bed with me or watched me when he thought I was asleep. The kisses he’d sneak in or touching me and grabbing onto me when it was dark… I really, really missed it, him, and counted the days till I’d see him again. But most of all, I just missed the company and his support. Of him pushing me to do better in school and simply be a better man. So, I did what he hoped during our time apart and did my best in school, biding my time till the day we could reunite.

What will he think?

Jian Yi answered the knock on the bedroom door. It was Qi letting us know it was time to head down to the backyard.

“Ya ready?” Jian asked me and I nod yes… nervous, but ready for what was next. So he grins and straightens my tie before patting me on the shoulder. “Let’s go, your man awaits,” he teases.

Tch, I sneer but with a blushing grin. My man? Yeah, that man alright. I follow along as I’m lead then told to wait just inside the door to the backyard. We can hear the music starting to play. Oof, the nerves are kicking in. Excited nervous energy that’s making me grin from ear to ear— Dun, dun da dun, dun da da dun… Jian claps me on the back seconds before they door opens to the crowd of onlookers staring back at us from He Cheng’s backyard adorned with the makings of a garden wedding venue. A swallow hard to drench my parched throat as I see the love of my life standing at the end of the flower-laced aisle waiting for me with the biggest smile I think I’ve ever seen.

I take a deep breath and walk forward with a smile. Thank you, He Tian for choosing me…

#flufftober 2023 #tianshan #mo guan shan #he tian #19 days #old xian #tianshan drabble #tianshan fan fic #unedited

25 notes · View notes

scarletbellatrix · 5 months ago

Note

light blue heart! (emoji isn't showing up on my pc somehow)

who curses more? LAXUS, obviously.

who is more patient? They are both short-tempered, but ERZA'S more patient compared to his short patience.

who does the driving? ERZA, obviously.

who is louder? who is quieter? ERZA, louder. LAXUS, quieter.

who is more physically affectionate? ERZA since she is more open.

who is more likely to tease the other? ERZA, though he finds ways to flip it over and fluster her.

who is better with time management? ERZA for most part since she's a control freak who'd like to schedule and plan the day.

who wins the arm wrestling matches? LAXUS but Erza is determined to beat him all the time.

who controls the music in the car ride? LAXUS who claims that he has better taste in music than her but she tries to dominate the music selection sometimes.

who covers dinner when they order in? BOTH, going 50-50. They probably argue over how they should be the one paying and not the other.

who is more outgoing? who is more shy? ERZA is outgoing. LAXUS isn't shy but man prefers his peace and alone time.

who has the more outlandish fashion sense? LAXUS with all that animal print and fur. A very self-explanatory answer. She tries to change his wardrobe even though he's stubborn.

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them? ERZA starts the tickle fights when she wants to try to get a rise out of it, but LAXUS ends it.

who has the darker/more "edgy" sense of humor? LAXUS. Nuff said.

who is more competitive when it comes to games? BOTH of them. They have silly little bets, but Erza gets too into it, and she is louder about wanting to beat his ass.

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth? LAXUS but Erza also has a huge appetite, though only half to his. But for the sweet tooth, it's ERZA.

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public? ERZA because she is that woman who will complain about the wrong orders and poor customer service.

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them? LAXUS unwillingly hosts at his place, because she ropes him into it, but ERZA does the organizing.

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other? LAXUS is the better cook. They do cook for each other. Erza tries, but her meals are a hit or miss, and he does his best to keep her away from cooking as much as possible.

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior? They are both competent at their jobs, and they wouldn't want any trouble. But there are instances that ERZA would break the rules sometimes, and then drag him into it.

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other? BOTH. They eventually become attuned to each other's feelings, and they'll learn how to pick up on each other's tells.

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)? ERZA obviously.

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support? BOTH but Erza does it more at first, constantly pestering him, and asking him what is up.

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it? ERZA, who resorted to asking Bixlow's help, but Laxus sometimes retaliates. The results vary. She gets the last laugh, but sometimes, she will suffer if he decides to counter her instantly.

@raiiryuu

MUSE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANON GAME || accepting

#raiiryuu #letters to scarlet — answered ask #you're still all heart — erza & laxus #it's fun answering this

6 notes · View notes

backmaskcd · 6 months ago

Text

(Robert Pattinson) [THE NOCTURNAL]. Please welcome [JASON 'JACE' KANE (HE/HIM)] to Huntsville, WV. They are a [37]-year-old [VISITOR] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [ROTATING WATCH RANGER]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

Full Name: Jason Oliver Kane Birthday: May 13 Age: 37 Hunter or Gatherer: Gatherer Sexuality: He's too old for that he just likes who he likes Height: 6'1 Relationship Status: Single

Jace was always a little bit different. He rarely had much of an opinion on anything, and even from a young age, sleeping at night felt impossible. His parents tried getting him regulated for most of his adolescence despite both of them often being far too busy to be truly present in his life, but it seemed like there was little to no point. He didn't do badly in school, however, he was often falling asleep in class or didn't really seem to grasp the consequences of turning work in late. As far as he was concerned, he was just coasting until he could graduate.

Music had always been the one thing Jace felt strongly about. He was writing lyrics and melodies, and he taught himself how to play guitar and drums since his parents were too concerned about his actual grades to consider enrolling him in outside classes for something he was actually interested in. Rock and punk were the two genres he tended to be drawn to most, feeling they were more passionate than the sappy love ballads or anger driven songs about others who had wronged you.

It only made sense that he'd start a band; it started as a joke between him and one of his best friends, Yale. He would play drums and she would sing and play guitar, and it was a fun past time. He set up a MySpace for the band, Jackknife of All Trades, and after he put up one of their songs, they got a ton of followers overnight. It seemed like the obvious next step was to actually make something out of this. With Yale on board, and getting extra support from her younger sibling, Prince and another mutual friend, Michael, they decided once they graduated high school, they'd start taking it more seriously.

The biggest hurdle however, was Jace's need for adrenaline. He wasn't ever one to lean into drinking or drugs - in fact, he would classify himself as straight edge - but he absolutely loved driving fast. He was on various message boards about street racing since before he could even drive, and once he got his license, he was already signing up under a pseudonym and lying about his age so he could finally take part in a world he had been watching from the rafters. However, this was also extremely illegal; and this is where Jace's rap sheet of crimes started. It was never anything more serious, just being caught speeding or doing illegal street races, but he'd been in and out of jail more times than he should have by the time he was eighteen; he was grateful that Yale and Michael were always showing up to bail him out though.

Blowing up in the punk scene wasn't anything Jace could have predicted, but he absolutely loved it. Going on small, choppy tours and roughing it in vans they'd have to trade out every couple of years was better than any life he could have imagined. He finally found something he was deeply passionate about, and was able to scrape by between the funds they made from shows and different crowd funds they hosted online (especially since Jace was still often getting arrested).

They never really got radio play, but touring with bigger bands got their names out as much as they needed. Between tours, Jace rarely opted to hold down a 'real' job, going back to racing and betting and winning money that way - and usually using it to pay back Yale whatever she'd spent bailing him out of jail last time. He didn't want to be a huge star selling out huge venues - to Jace, that wasn't what the music was about. It was about connecting with people, selling out dive bars and being paid in drink tickets and racing on nights he wasn't playing. It was the life he felt he had been waiting for.

Life carried on like this for about ten years or so - Jace was never any good with dates. However, one wrong turn while driving to a venue was all it took for Jace and his found family to get stuck in Huntsville. That was four years ago, and despite the fact that he can no longer race, he still has all his gear and Huntsville brings a new set of challenges that get his blood pumping.

He can come off as very uninterested or intimidating, but that's kind of just his face. He's very sweet once you get to talking with him, and extremely oblivious. He always assumes people are being nice to him, and has no concept at all of when someone is flirting with him. He is still basically nocturnal, enjoying the job of being a ranger because he can always take night watch, and he finds the creatures fascinating. He misses performing a lot, and is shocked anyone in Huntsville was or still is a fan of his because he's Just Some Guy, but he does love knowing that his music has touched so many people.

#huntsvilleintro

4 notes · View notes

reflection-s-of-stars · 2 years ago

Text

Pugsley Addams headcanons

Sequel to my Morticia post! Also, my boy does NOT get enough love and I enjoyed the new series but they did him SO dirty so I’m here to rectify it. Tim Burton can kiss my ass

(This is gonna be based on the ‘60s show mostly, with some stuff from the ‘90s movies and the musical bc that’s the AF stuff I like the most. Also it’ll have absolutely no structure because I don’t need to give him a backstory like I did for Morticia)

So first off, this isn’t a headcanon but it is a quote from season one episode ten of the sitcom (and it’s on youtube if you don’t believe me):

Morticia: We might have to call the P-O-L-I-C-E. Pugsley: You mean the fuzz? Morticia: What is the fuzz? Pugsley: The bulls! Gomez: Thought you had him there, didn’t you?

So yeah there’s that

That attitude towards authority definitely continues into when he’s a teenager

(I mean it’s the early seventies, who are we kidding)

Between that and his penchant for explosives, Pugsley makes a lot of really cool friends and gets into a lot of trouble in school

Morticia is NOT pleased

“It’s one thing to set off a bomb, sweetheart, but cutting class is a completely different matter!”

“But mooooooooooooooooom-”

Pugsley likes to act cool but he’s very much a mama’s boy

There’s not much he enjoys more than helping Morticia out in the kitchen or the greenhouse

He also really likes hanging out with Grandmamma (this one is canon in the musical and it’s FANTASTIC)

She loves helping her grandson out with the occasional illegal activity

Also she always has candy and Pugsley’s the only one who knows about it

Uhhh let’s see

Pugsley’s dyslexic!

He has a lot of trouble in school because of it, especially because this is the seventies so people don’t always take him seriously

(Idk a lot about dyslexia so I can’t really elaborate but I should tell you this headcanon was courtesy of my mom)

He also gets really tall during high school

By the time he’s eighteen he’s almost as tall as Morticia

He’s just a really big dude

A really big dude who actually has no idea how to fight

Gomez tried to teach him to swordfight in middle school and it failed miserably

They stopped after he broke a sword and Gomez almost cried

Again, he much prefers explosives anyway

One time I saw someone headcanon that Pugsley has pyrokinetic powers and I am FULLY on board with this

In the post about Morticia that I made, I said something about her family all having some kind of magic (whereas the Addamses themselves are mostly just plain humans who act really fucking strange)

Anyway, Pugsley ends up with magic, Wednesday doesn’t

He tries to be a good big brother and not make a big deal out of it, but he can’t help but be a little smug

Mainly because Wednesday does so much better in school than he does, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit jealous

The rest of his family is also full of really accomplished people, so Pugsley actually feels like he falls short a lot

So the magic thing is a Big Deal to him

Anyway he has pyrokinesis (fire + explosive powers)!

They figure it out when he’s about fourteen, but he’s been drawn to that stuff his whole life so nobody was really surprised

The whole family was proud, but Uncle Fester was ecstatic

Once he finishes high school, Pugsley basically starts doing magic as a part-time job

There are a surprising amount of people who will pay for an explosion, but it’s legally dubious at best and he’s an adult now so he’s more likely to face consequences

So he ends up being a bartender at some weird-looking tavern and he actually loves it

Pugsley gets a lot more laid-back as he gets older, and he’s able to become friends with a lot of different kinds of people

The weirder the better- the real kooks just make him feel more at home :)

Btw when I say he’s laid-back that ABSOLUTELY does not mean he won’t do schemes from time to time. My boy is a practical joker at heart and no amount of adulthood can change that

Also when I say friends I do only mean friends bc Pugsley is aro! I am definitely not projecting!

Specifically he’s aroallo + straight and not quite sure about gender

For a while Morticia is kind of annoying about it (“so when are you going to get a girlfriend?”) but he explains to her that that’s not what he wants and she’s okay with it

They stay really close as they get older :)

This wasn’t as long but I can’t think of any more so here: @acesophiewalten @itwasmyweddingday @lucasbeinekehonorarygoth for you guys! We need more Pugsley content in the world is what I’m saying with this

#Soph’s posts #addams family #addams family headcanons #pugsley addams #Pugsley Addams headcanons #Pugsley #Pugsley headcanons #Jean tag #Ebony tag

24 notes · View notes

demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 years ago

Text

The Tory Prom Parable: A Fix-It Fic in Polls: Part 3

Part 1: link

Part 2: link

And the winner is:

You walk out of the prom dress rental depot wearing this bombshell. Complete with a big scandalous slit in the side, just because you can! You have never felt more absolutely kickass in your entire life, not even when you nearly stabbed Samantha LaRusso to death with a spike bracelet that one time. Or tried to beat the crap out of her with nunchucks. Those are hard to top, but...well, this is a different kind of kickass. You sort of want to murder someone with poison lipstick tonight. How do the femme fatales in movies do it?

Robby is waiting for you in Sensei Silver's nice-ass rental car. God, this man has resources. Whatever the hell he was up to after the war, he made bank. But hey--who are you to complain? It's nice to get a taste of the good life now and again, even if you'd rather not know where all that cold hard cash is coming from.

Sensei Silver wouldn't like. Blackmail you something to do with your mom's dialysis, right? No, of course not. Sensei Kreese is a good guy. Really got you out of a fix. Any friend of his is also a good guy deep down, right?

As you strut over, Robby wolf whistles at you. He's just messing around, but you decide to play along a bit. This whole night is about pretending to be a dumb bougie rich kid who actually cares about shit like prom, so you might as well commit to the bit.

You do a dramatic spin, and show off some different angles:

WORK IT GIRL

Robby jokingly says you're a knockout. You jokingly ask if he brought any condoms. He jokingly says he did. You jokingly wonder how much you're actually joking.

***

Congrats--you have successfully made it to the prom! You park in an illegal spot because fuck the police. You link arms with Robby Keene and walk into the vapid, B.O.-scented high school dance in the power stance of the century. Maybe it's your egotism speaking, but you're pretty sure everyone turns to look at the both of you.

And there are fucking Miguel Diaz and Sam LaRusso, dancing all around the dance floor like they own the place. Having far too good a time. Fucken show offs. Ugh. Almost like they came here to participate in the popular teenage ritual of dressing up, drinking punch, and grooving to pop music! What losers.

But when you walk in and demand everyone else's attention...what choice do they have but to join in?

Oh nice!!! You already pissed them off!!! Well, that was easy. Should be all smooth sailing from here.

You decide to take a gander at the dance floor and get the lay of the land. Kyler, Piper, and some other Cobras came in a group. That's good--you can hit them up if Prince Traitor Boy and Princess LaRusso decide to start anything. Hawk is sulking in the corner with that lame-ass nerd kid he ditched y'all for. Hell yeah! He looks like he's already having a bad time, along with that Demetri loser. Karma for inconveniencing you, one of (if not the) most important people in the Valley. (Or at least you will be after you win the AVT.) Hawk's ex is also here, partying with a gaggle of girls. Good for her, honestly--she could do better than Hawk's backstabbing ass. Bitches with no dojo loyalty get no bitches.

Some generic Top 40s dance hit comes on. Robby offers you his hand, and you take the floor. Time to be the most obnoxious pair at the West Valley High Junior Prom!

And...damn. This kid can groove. He spins you like it's second nature. He waltzes to and fro with almost perfect rhythm. When you follow his lead, you manage to move in perfect sync, despite having practiced dancing maybe twice in your life and also wearing high heels longer than Hawk's d*ck.

You put your leg around him and yank him toward you, showing off your fine specimen of a leg to the dance floor. Damn right, everyone wishes they had legs like yours!

And--oh, shit! Now he's lifting you clean off the floor! This kid is stronger than he looks, damn. And now he's dipping you like he's been practicing dipping women every night for his entire life???

Okay, that was kinda hot.

No, no, bad Tory. This is a fake date meant to prove a point and aggravate Sam LaRusso and Miguel Diaz. You're doing evil petty revenge--the last thing you need to do is catch feelings for your partner in crime.

Remember what happened last time you caught feelings for a boy??? That's right--he got kicked off a balcony!

By...the same dude who is now your prom date, actually.

Huh. Now that is the height of irony.

Speaking of Miguel, though! It's around this time you decide to check up on what him and his snooty girlfriend are doing. Surely still watching your dance routine in aghast horror, disgusted but unable to look away, right?

Wait, where'd they go?

You notice Robby also scanning the room with a furrowed brow, apparently experiencing the same confusion. He looks at you for answers, but all you can do is give him an agitated shrug.

"Let's check the punch table," he says. Right, yeah. They're probably stuffing their faces with free snacks. How lame. People as rich as Moneybags LaRusso should never be allowed free snacks!

Off to the punch table you go! But alas, no sign of your least favorite couple of all time. You and Robby begin a thorough search and inspection of the prom venue, leaving no hallway unchecked, no storage closet unopened, and no tablecloth unlifted.

People really gotta learn it's useless to hide from you. LaRusso sure tried at the arcade, and how did that turn out for her?

Maybe if you can get that Demetri kid alone, you could totally team up with Robby and break his arm again. He'd just be the Broken Arm Kid forever and no one would ever hire him! Bonus points if you do it in front of Hawk like "hey, remember when you did this that one time? Good times, right?"

How those two boys swept all that shit under the rug is beyond you. If someone broke your arm, you'd probably just kill them as soon as you got better. Eh, you avoided juvie once--you can do it again.

"What are you smiling about?" Robby asks. A little teasing, but genuinely curious.

It suddenly occurs to you that fantasizing about re-breaking a kid's arm is probably...not a great look. Whoops.

Like Robby is down for evil prom revenge and all, but he might draw the line somewhere. Who knows.

"Oh, I'm just reveling in the fact we scared them into a corner somewhere," you tell Robby.

But you double-check and triple-check and quadruple-check every last corner, and...no sign of Cheater Diaz and Princess LaRusso.

It appears they bounced!!! Unfortunately, since this is a fix-it fic, other characters besides you will also be acting in-character and not like they were replaced by cheap imitation doppelgangers who behave completely fucking differently. Which means, of course, that when Sam and Miguel see the people who attempted murder on them twice and paralyzed and nearly killed them, respectively, they're going to want to haul ass out of there as quickly as possible. Since, you know, a panic response would realistically take over and overpower any desire Sam and Miguel have to "show you up."

Uh oh. You definitely forgot to account for the fact that your targets could just fucking leave. And now you're at a dumb high school dance with no one to harass. This is awkward.

But what can I say? Did you really think they were going to just stand around and glare at you all night, without even moving to the other side of the dance floor to try and avoid you? That wouldn't make any sense.

Well...if you want to know where they went, exactly, Hawk and Demetri might know. Except the one problem with asking them is that they both fucking hate you. And Robby. So that's not going to work.

You could try asking Hawk's ex, it's just be uh. Really fucking awkward, because Moon is friends with Sam and probably remembers the whole spike-bracelet-and-nunchucks ordeal. So it's doubtful she'll want to help you out either. But you've got a better chance with her than with Hawk and Demetri, that's for sure.

15 notes · View notes

horangkwon · 2 years ago

Text

⭐ Catorce: #FindingSoonyoung.

wc: 800

ㅤ

Joshua could feel his heartbeat getting faster with each step he took into the chaotic mass of people, he could hear it resonating in his ears even louder than Seokmin’s questionable BGM choice; not that he had something against dubstep, it just made him miss Jihoon's playlist a little.

Soonyoung was nowhere to be seen, what was the guy even doing? Probably giving himself a motivational pep talk in front of the bathroom mirror.

Even in the midst of the crowd, Joshua was able to recognize the red dress and started making his way towards the girl, who was currently dancing with her visibly drunk friend, another girl who he could not recognize. He thought that she must have been going through something tough for her to be wasted barely half an hour into the party, that, or she had a shitty alcohol tolerance.

The guys had to be wrong, because there was no way the girl that now danced, oblivious to all the attention that was currently on her by almost the whole hotel staff, could actually be you. He had to put Jeonghan's evil and most likely illegal plan to a stop before something bad happened.

Finally, Joshua was able to move past a few more people and reached his destination, wasting no time to grab the girl by the shoulder to make her turn around and face him.

—Jiwon! It's been so...— his words got stuck in his throat when he realized that it was not his ex-girlfriend the one facing him, but you, raising both eyebrows at him in a questioning manner.

Your quick-witted self (that showed up every blue moon) got ahold of the situation in an instant, regardless of having barely picked up the man's face the first time you saw him. —You must be Joshua!— you tried to speak over the loud music, seriously, what was the DJ even thinking?. The guitar player nodded, growing visibility uncomfortable —Jiwon decided to stay at the dorm! She's probably sleeping right now!— you added after noticing how he kept sparing glances at your outfit —She lend me her dress, that must be why you confused me!—

He nodded, now averting his gaze away from yours in total embarrassment; it was a miracle how the RGB LEDs could mask the redness of his ears. —It suits you— he said, but you could not hear him over the ear-piercing music —Sorry for bothering you! I'll go now!— he spoke louder this time, but he left before you had the chance to even decipher his words.

—Poor Jiwon, she won't be happy to know her ex was looking for her— you said to no one in particular, because Chan was at the boy’s dorm, most likely crying himself to sleep, Vernon was standing in a corner sleeping (yes, standing, when we say he can sleep anywhere, it means Anywhere), and Seungkwan had run off to get some free alcohol.

Right now, it was a very drunk Jisun and you against the world.

(...)

—Where the fuck is Soonyoung?— Jeonghan asked for the millionth time that night, his leg bounced nervously in a poor attempt to calm his mind, it was not working.

—Do you guys think he got lost again?— Hyunjin said as she stared intently at the remaining ice cubes in the bottom of her glass, as if she could melt them that way —You know, like that one time when we hosted a tea party to celebrate the first day of spring and he waited for hours at the wrong place?— a few laughs could be heard at the reminder, along with a particularly loud scoff from tea-lover Minghao.

—Well, he better arrive quickly before my arms fall off— Mingyu complained from the other side of the bar. He had been restlessly preparing snacks and serving drinks the whole night, even going as far as to make complicated-looking cocktails; he was truly carrying the party on his back, that must be the reason why his shoulders are so broad.

—Should we look for him?— Heejin said after twenty more minutes of radio silence from Soonyoung.

—This place is huge though, let's just wait a bit more— Joshua said, obviously making up excuses because he was too comfortable in his seat to move a single inch.

—Or he might be taking a big fat shit— Minghao added, not receiving many reactions as the others were uses to his filter-less mouth.

—I need more tequila— Hyunjin sighed loudly before barging into the bar, completely ignoring Mingyu's protests.

And just like that, the group waited until midnight for Kwon Stupid Soonyoung to arrive. Some of them were tired, most had murder and revenge in their minds, and there was Jun, whose mind is a complete mystery.

Where exactly did Soonyoung go?

ㅤ

❝⭐Five Dollars and a Dream.❞

Soonyoung's plan was perfect: get a degree in contemporary dance, upload covers on YouTube, perform on the streets, ???, become rich, and live in a gigantic mansion with a family of tigers. Well, there might be flaws in his logic, but his passion (and a lucky encounter) will push him to make his dreams a reality.

Previous ⭐ Masterlist ⭐ Next

A/N: There's so many hidden stuff in here, hope you guys can catch the references😙

⭐ Taglist: @mitchieki @rubberduckieyourtheone @winterwallacehenderson (Send and ask to be added<3)

#seventeen #hoshi #hoshi smau #kwon soonyoung #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen hoshi #seventeen x reader #hoshi angst #hoshi fluff #hoshi x reader #hoshi scenarios #hoshi reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #soonyoung x reader #svt soonyoung

12 notes · View notes

soufre-de-paris · 2 years ago

Text

i dreamed of three puzzles, interconnected: an ivory box; a malachite plate; an onyx tabletop. all three were shattered into pieces, once gold-foiled text broken and hollowed and illegible (though still clearly a magical alphabet).

This had once been a music hall, stripped of its seats and carpets, its stage-bound curtains open to show… nothing. black void. no stars, no trees, just emptiness where a back wall should have been. it was an emptiness i knew to be entropy. this lightless soundless stillness was not malicious. it simply was.

i wanted to fix the puzzles one at a time so i could find out what would happen with each successive solution. the box first, i thought, because it was smallest and i had the most pieces of it. depending on what happened, maybe i would solve the others, but i already had the sense that maybe it would be better to not. but one solved should do no harm, right?

on one wall of the abandoned music hall hung a portrait of a monkey, holding one of the pieces of the box. perfect!

except then i came to understand it wouldn't be possible to solve any singular puzzle without solving the other two. all three would be solved, together, in the exact same molecular instant, or the puzzles would remain puzzles forever. the box, the plate, the tabletop: these three were sides of the same whole, like the faces of some impossible three-faced puzzle cube. all together, or not at all.

and there i hesitated. everything in the dream—my fellow "dreamers", that infernal painting of the monkey, my own immanent instinct to find puzzles in the world for no reason other than to fix them—everything was telling me to solve the puzzles! that's what they're there for! puzzles exist to be solved! look how easy! i have most of the pieces already! look, these few pieces together form the bottom of the box! what does that glowing text say, i wonder!

but i didn't know what would happen if all three pieces were unbroken. and the longer i hesitated, the more frustrated my supposed companions became. the air became malevolent. i pretended to not understand how the pieces fit together, just to realize that those trapped in the hall with me were not incapable of solving these puzzles themselves, but forbidden.

the work required me. and if i refused, it would remain undone.

#i would have been a really great seer in another age #but in this one i'm just like #WHAT DO YOU WANT #dreams

2 notes · View notes

alarrytale · 4 months ago

Note

Hi Marte, just trying to think things through.

Sony is all about profit so I can understand them insisting on a het image for Louis as straight sells. But, being drunk to the point of people thinking you have an issue with alcohol does not sell, so why do you think it is happening? It's one thing to be photographed enjoying beer and the odd cig so he seems like a lad but Louis goes overboard with drinking on stage etc and people start asking questions.

Also, if Sony has so much power why haven't they forced Louis to make pop music as these records (like Back to You) sold so much better than the indie music?

Hi, anon!

Sony insists on a het image for Louis because of his connection to H, who they need to keep straight and available and not gay and in a relationship with Louis. The rest of his image is handled by BMG. Straight doesn’t sell if you look at his fanbase, but straight sells if you can’t be gay, have to branch out and cater to straight males.

In order for Louis to have a career, when he's boycotted from radio play, got no industry support or friends, and needs to compete with the other 1D members for the same fans, he needs a unique selling point and to broaden his target audience. So he moved away from pop and the boyband image towards indie and a britpop, Gallagher-y, common lad who is cool, image to not have to compete within the pop genre. It's a smaller pool of people to target though so i'm not sure it was a good idea. He's trying to cater to males, but it's hardly working.

Breaking rules, speaking his mind, not being a normie and partying is a part of that image. So is smoking, drinking and doing drugs. He's trying to appeal and cater to other lads, and show the fan girls he's a cool dude. Drinking, smoking and doing drugs is pretty much normalised within the target group he's trying to cater to. Drinking is relatable and shows he's relaxing and having a good time, smoking is sensual and sexy for a lot of women, and doing weed is relatable and a bit exciting since it's illegal most places. So you get people going "but i do all of that too, he hasn't got an issue, because i haven't got an issue".

It seems to me like he's in an environment where all of this is happening frequently and is normalised. There's so much toxic masculinity, and it's seems like there is an expectation backstage to partake in that culture. It doesn’t seem like he's got people around him to help him cope better and to get him into healthier habits. Sony doesn’t care what he does, they only care that he's straight, but BMG should care, because they've invested time and money into him.

#louis image #indie #sony #boyband politics #it's past midnight i need to sleep #alcohol tw #drugs tw #smoking tw

0 notes

transboysokka · 1 year ago

Text

I’ve lost control of my life it is now 2:30am

(Chris watches Twilight Eclipse for the first time)

Okay fuck it it’s 12:30 am let’s start the annoying love triangle one (I’m guessing)

All I know about anything for the rest of the franchise is bella and Edward will be married and she’ll become a vampire either before or after that and also they will have a creepy baby but I think all that happens in the last book so NO guesses for this movie

At least the budget and therefore quality seem to be getting bigger/better each time

Another cheesy quote from Bella to open us out aight

Like idk she’s a student and I feel like students shouldn’t gotta worry about this marriage shit? Not in high school

It should be illegal to get married before 25 when your brain finishes developing btw

They’re both gonna be so annoying aren’t they, her with wanting to turn and him with wanting to get married, just kill me now

Anyway are they gonna finally resolve that one crazy lady vampire issue from the first movie bc that was really such a tiny problem to drag our

So is it jacob or jake what does he prefer

The music is a little better (so far) at least

Oh fuck not Edward controlling Bella’s movements and friendships GET AWAY FROM HIM BELLA

I get that Charlie has beef w Edward like girl same but also I feel bad for Edward lol

Mom sees that Edward is creepy too

Bella’s lying out in the sun but still just as pale okay

So jealous of T-shirt quilts

Dramatic ass vampire family nothing ever changes

Just get rid of this red hair chick so we can move onto the Vampiric Council villain plot

Teamwork!

More annoyed about Edward wanting to save Bella’s soul now that I know it’s Mormon propaganda tbhhhh

The thing w the Jacob v Edward drama that I never understood all those years ago is that they’re BOTH bad people!!

I still say they’d make a killer polycule

But I do love the “Edward is my boyfriend, Jacob is my best friend, and they’re jealous of each other”

Loving the lady werewolf

But how many are there now it seems like Too Much

Oh imprinting got it cool

WAIT I SWEAR I saw somewhere that Jacob ends up imprinting on Bella and Edwards daughter?????

Anyway at least lautner is kinda losing the accent at this point. Makes him less annoying

Unresolved Victoria plot, unresolved volturi plot, and now someone new???

Cross-species teamwork to help protect Bella how cute

Loving the historical flashbacks actually, I’d love a movie on the lore

WAIT FUCK jasper is SOKKA in that awful shyamalan avatar movie I’m sndkldjdsjkslskshdhdjdkd

JACOB why would you kiss her she just said she doesn’t love you I hate every man in this franchise

Clueless Charlie is pretty great

Rosalie has been nothing but spout straight up facts this entire franchise so far

Wow what a terribly tragic backstory though damn

So amused that they keep talking about defeating newborns lolol

Why would jasper know more about them than anyone else? They’ve all been newborns at some point? Is it bc he’s the most recently turned?

Oh good, explanation

Oh NOW he has an accent? lmao

Since when does he control emotions, have we seen that yet??

Ugh Jacob just DROP IT

Hahaha the father-daughter talks are so good

Listening to Debussy in preparation for seeing depussy nice

Oh DAMN he cockblocked himself. The damn Mormon influence again

It DOES make sense with the era he’s from etc etc

I just know the fangirlies were going crazy in the theatre w this whole sequence

oh NOW she says yes okayyyy

Okay seriously why is Jacob allergic to shirts

Cuddle for warmth. Classic fanfic trope oh all THREE of them should cuddle

“I am hotter than you” wow the fan girls are losing their minds

Anyway like we all know I stan rpats but he IS a goofy looking guy and I am constantly surprised he got cast for this role

Jacob doesn’t know how not to be a creep Jesus

Nice convo Jacob and Edward now kiss

But anyway that was actually super boring

Are they not even gonna SHOW the battle lmao

This movie feels super long am I wrong?

This fake ass snow

He’s literally making her say she loves him grossssss

What is any of this for like she’s less than 30 minutes of screen time away from marrying Edward right?? What was the ENTIRE point of that Jacob kiss

I actually do like how chill Edward was about it though lol

That is NOT Bryce Dallas Howard why doesn’t it look like her

What’s with the metallic clanking sounds when they die

This would be a great time for bella to get hurt and have to be turned, just saying

Oh DAMN did Bella use the trick from the werewolf story nice

Lol I had no idea vampires were so flammable

No idea what just happened to Jacob tbh like he doesn’t LOOK hurt

Why did they have to kill the girl jesus

The second movie was a gay allegory but this one is a trans allegory for sure

ok so yeah that’s another one done I guess lol

#text #twilight liveblog

0 notes

mourninggaylibra · 1 year ago

Text

2 — McCoy Tyner and Marlboro Lights

It is the summer of 2016, and I have decided to take up smoking.

When my high school’s band director noticed the same student fleeing to the choir room to practice Chopin piano etudes at lunch and sometimes in lieu of class, she offered that I further expand my musical horizons and join the jazz band as a pianist. While I had no knowledge of jazz whatsoever, I considered the challenge of learning something truly new and accepted her offer.

I learned that jazz piano is quite different from classical. Where I was used to black dots on a page telling me when and where to depress the keys to create music, it was shocking to find that jazz is more mathematical. Unlike classical music, jazz sheet music consists of letters and numbers, alone, oriented on the page to show the skeleton of a tune, with ample room to expand and improvise creatively, without dictation. I feared I wouldn’t be very good at it, as it seemed my brain was hardwired for the strict rules of classical playing. Jazz is unruly and creative, two things that I feel I am not; but they’re things that 2 was when I met him.

2 is something of a jazz prodigy. He can memorize virtually any jazz standard and imbue it with his own voice when he plays, ensuring that there’s enough room for his complex improvisations while still leaving space for others in the band to contribute their own musings. He is, by all counts, a musical genius. When I said yes to joining the jazz band, despite my lack of knowledge, 2’s skills never failed to impress me. He had been a member of the jazz band for quite some time, and when I arrived, the pressure to keep up with him forced me out of my comfort zone.

Even though I was outside of my element in jazz band, I still tried my best. 2 witnessed my attempts and ran circles around me, challenging the boundaries of his instrument to do more than what it appeared capable of. My jazz playing was stiff, and 2 often told me my playing was too classical and rigid, when I should feel free to loosen up and have fun with the music. I was eager to learn from 2, so when he asked if I wanted to see him play with another group of musicians—not affiliated with our school—at a private show in a smoky hotel lounge, I said yes.

The hotel was on the other side of town, and 2’s show didn’t start until the late evening, so I had ample time to visualize about the scene that would soon happen: a seventeen year-old chubby kid would walk into a hotel lounge at 9pm, not to meet anyone, not to illegally buy a drink, not to do anything, really, but hear the band play. Imagine my delight to find that most other attendees were there to do the same, maybe not within my demographic, but the lounge was packed with eager jazz afficionados, awaiting what was in store.

The music hadn’t started yet, so I ran to the bathroom before entering the lounge to ensure I wouldn’t interrupt the show with my getting up to go. As I entered, 2 stood at the sink with his face wet, and his eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror. My footsteps broke his concentration when he turned to see who had walked in. “You came!” he said with excitement before enveloping me in his arms. “And just in time, too. We start in just a couple minutes!”

I should have known something was wrong then. 2 had never hugged me before and I didn’t know him very well. And when I looked into his eyes, his presence seemed trapped behind a thin fog. It was as if his expression was no longer like the open door I’d witnessed before, but instead, a closed window: translucent enough to see through but strong enough to keep his more primal instincts within. At the time I thought it was just nerves, but I would come to know this look intimately in the months to come, only to discover its true cause could not be further from nervousness. “I better get out there,” he says before leaving. I wished him good luck before joining the others in the lounge.

2’s playing was, as always, inspired. He employed complex rhythms and made his bandmates—much older than 2 was—look inexperienced by comparison. 2 was unhindered by the confines of a public-school classroom. He was in his element: able to experiment and truly let loose, where each musical idea came and went with such incredible frequency that even the most dedicated musical mind would feel fatigued. As I ogled at his playing, I found myself wanting to learn more about him, out of admiration for his playing and based on an attraction to his craft. I had never met anyone as passionate about their music as I was, and 2 proved that I wasn’t alone in my pursuit of music’s beauty.

The show ended to thunderous applause, as a crowd had amassed beyond the lounge’s capacity. Patrons stood in the doorway, in corners, and alongside walls just to hear the band play. I left the lounge to find 2 packing his things outside. “You were incredible,” I say to him, as if a word could convey how I truly felt about his playing. He looks up from his bag and smiles, his eyes still foggy, and asks me to join him outside. “You smoke?” He asks me as we both sit on the curb near the service entrance. “All I have are Lights.”

I had never smoked before. My mother was a walking commercial for anti-smoking campaigns, warning about the chemicals contained in cigarettes that would develop into black lungs, which would develop into cancer. But when 2 offered me one, I couldn’t say no.

Peer pressure never looks like it does in middle school health class. I’ve never been in a situation where a group of good-for-nothing kids said that I wouldn’t be “cool” if I didn’t smoke with them. The fear of not looking cool more accurately describes what I experienced with 2: not the opportunity to be cool, but to give the impression I was never uncool. He smoked, so I should too. I inhaled and held back my coughs, determined to make sure 2 never found out I lied.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says after we each take a couple drags. I smile and tell him I enjoyed myself, that I love hearing him play. “Hearing you makes me want to get better at playing jazz. All I know is classical,” I confess.

He offers a favor to me. “Well, I could help you if you want. At home, my dad has a studio, and we could practice in there whenever you want.” I thank him and say yes, not expecting much to come of it. How many times had I proposed to hang out with someone and not followed through with it? I figured this offer would be the same.

When we finish smoking, he asks if I can drive him home, because he doesn’t have a car and I was the only person he knew who had come to see him play. I tell him yes, and we walk back into the hotel together, pack up his things, and leave, sharing another cigarette during the drive. I wondered how he would have gotten home had I not arrived tonight, but push the thought aside. When we arrive to his house, he thanks me, leaves, and closes the door shut, before I drive away.

At jazz band the next day, he follows through on his offer. “Come over after school today! We can jam out together.” When I accept his offer, he looks elated. “I’ll wait for you at your car after school.”

We split another cigarette on the drive from school to his home, and this time I park along the street before he shows me inside. “Hey dad,” he says to the only other person inside. “This is a friend from school. He’s here to play music with me.” His dad, stoic and silent, nods before 2 drags me into the back of the house, where an entire band setup is laid out: a full drum set, high quality microphones, guitars, basses, and of course, a piano are all begging to be played. 2 offers the piano to me with a hand, and proposes a piece for us to play, another seemingly random assortment of numbers and letters on a page. Thanks to jazz band, I’ve gotten proficient at reading these on the spot, but the pressure to impress 2 is great. Of course, his playing is free and relaxed; mine is very measured and tactical. “Your problem is that you don’t like jazz,” he says to me when we finish the tune.

“What do you mean?” I question. “Of course I do!” He explains to me that he can tell I don’t because nothing about my playing is like that of the greats. “You should listen to some real jazz pianists,” he suggests. “People like Bill Evans. Dave Brubeck. Here, let me show you.”

2 sits at the piano bench beside me and places his hands on the keys. “This is a great voicing, and you can use it whenever you don’t know what to do.” Under his hands he stacks what I see as intervals of musical fourths and thirds, spanning two octaves. “This is how McCoy Tyner played. Open voices so the other members of the band can fit in the middle.”

When I left that session, I wasn’t exactly elated. In fact, I felt stupid. I knew so little about jazz and 2 knew so much; and up to this point in my life I was used to being the most knowledgeable person, in any given room, about music. I went home and I listened to the pianists he recommended with a fervor, paying careful attention to McCoy Tyner’s voicing and how his bandmates benefitted from his careful harmonic placement.

The weeks continued in that way: we’d go to jazz band, I’d drive him home and we’d jam out, and I would see him play anytime he had a gig outside of school. My jazz playing improved minimally, but noticeably. To hear 2 comment on my progress was the only encouragement that I needed to continue. Even the band director noticed, who marveled at my ability to play new music—confusing numbers, letters, and all—without having seen it before.

As my musical skills sharpened, my feelings for 2 deepened. Our dynamic was unique, it wasn’t that we just spent a lot of time together (nearly every day after school), but that we fed off of each others compliments. I praised him profusely for his playing; and with every hand he rested on my shoulder or gentle brush of my back, he’d smile encouragement onto me.

One day, before the start of jazz band, I went to the bathroom to wash my hands of a late lunch I’d had. I opened the bathroom door to sounds of retching and coughs, with the smell of vomit and cough syrup in the air. “Everything okay?” I asked, unaware that it was 2 with his head dangling over the toilet bowl. The retching stops and I hear a flush as 2 exits the stall. “What’s wrong?” I ask. Once I realize its him, my thoughts quickly change. I felt an instinct to know everything that was going on, especially when I noticed that the same fogginess behind his eyes was there again, like it was the first night I saw him play at the hotel lounge. “I have to tell you something,” he says to me.

We were both fifteen minutes late to jazz band that day. He told me about how he got into jazz playing, and how he was a lot like me when he first started out: mild and formulaic, where voicings have to be spelled out on a keyboard before utilizing them. He felt that the only way to free himself of this structural rigidity was to experiment with drugs. He tried the lot of them: marijuana, pills, the like; but what he was using now, in our school’s bathroom stall, was cough syrup. He drinks an entire bottle of it before playing, and for some reason, his body cannot keep it down anymore: Every time he drinks cough syrup, he vomits. Now, standing in front of me in the bathroom, he doesn’t know what to do to make sure his playing is still lively without the syrup, and is me asking what I would do if I were him.

I don’t judge, and I don’t comment on his playing. I just hold onto him and tell him to wash up as best he can so we can join the others. “We’ll figure it out,” I comfort him. I had a million thoughts in my head: half of them questions, and half of them answers. Now I knew why his behavior was so different at school and in jam sessions than it was at his performances: he was high. I began to wonder about all the times that I didn’t think he was high but he actually was, whether I truly knew him or only knew his high self, and how his honesty would complicate our relationship. I was happy that he trusted me enough to tell me, but I feared what would happen as a consequence of it.

2 found a drug that can be bought online, salvia, that could serve as a replacement for cough syrup. It’s not illegal, and you can apparently get it shipped to your home. It is a mild hallucinogenic, and 2 was eager to try it. The only problem was that he did not have any money to buy it, and that his dad was always home before he was and would receive the package before 2 would get home. 2 devised a plan that he later relayed to me: “I’m going to order it online to some get delivered to some random house, and you can go pick it up and bring it to me!”

I thought again about that night outside the hotel lounge and how I wanted to impress 2, not with how cool I was, but with how uncool I wasn’t, in smoking my first cigarette. Though my relationship with 2 was pretty cursory, as most of our conversations revolved around music and little else, he trusted me and I trusted him. I didn’t need to know about his family, or his past, or anything of that sort; and he didn’t need to know about mine. Our conversations were weightless for it. I said I would help him.

When I picked up the salvia at someone’s home (how he picked this home, out of all the ones he could have, I’ll never know), I drove to his house feeling guilty. Not only because I felt like I was being used as his pawn—a personal taxi service and delivery driver—but because I was enabling him. By helping him, I am allowing him to avoid the true problem that 2 faced: that he felt he needed to be high to sound good on his instrument. Legal or not, mild or extreme, that’s an unhealthy mindset for a young man to develop, especially when they’re as talented as 2.

I knocked on his door and 2 rushed outside excitedly, not because he finally had a new drug to try, but because his band had been selected to perform in New York City. The same band that garnered a massive audience at that hotel lounge, all those nights ago, had been invited to play a show at Lincoln Center. “Can you believe it?” he asked me. “I’m going to play on that huge stage in New York City! For thousands of people!” It seemed that he forgot all about the salvia when he leaned in to kiss me, out of excitement for what was to come and out of appreciation that he could share the afternoon with me. He grabbed my hand, the package of salvia in my other, and led me inside for our usual jam session.

I could barely focus after he kissed me. 2 and I had never discussed our feelings, and we didn’t even know each other beyond our musical pursuits, but something about our relationship felt naturally formless: neither friends nor something more, yet still affectionate. Our rapport was light. We didn’t need to know each other’s intimate details because the music we created was deeply personal, albeit without words, and able to express that which words cannot describe. When we played during our usual jam session that afternoon after he kissed me, I kept waiting for him to do it again because I feared doing it myself, out of caution that my feelings would ruin our special, musical exchange. I decided to let 2 control what would happen next. I wouldn’t ruin this like I ruined the relationship I had with 1. I continued our session with anticipation for something that would never come: the rest of the day continued like normal.

When he left for New York some weeks later, 2 asked me to hold onto the rest of the salvia for him while he was gone, so that his dad wouldn’t find it in his room. I said sure, and drove him home one last time before he left for his Lincoln Center debut. “I’m going to miss you,” I said to him, stopping him from leaving my car. “I’m going to miss you too,” he replied. He looked at me then, his eyes as clear as I’d ever seen them, and touched my cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll call you when I’m there. I’ll send pictures, and tell you all about it when I come back. I’m so excited!” He put his hand on mine, which was resting on the gearshift, and looked at me. I half expected him to kiss me again, but instead he just smiled and left.

2 arrived in New York and played his show. I would have given anything to have seen it myself, but I didn’t need to hear it to know that he had left all of his musical offerings on the stage. I was scared to think that 2 was probably high during his performance and felt a strange hopelessness, in that I cannot alleviate it on my own. It is a difficult thing to see a loved one fall victim to the challenges of addiction and know that there’s nothing to be done: 2’s struggle could only be relieved by 2, himself. I was mindful of this when he texted me how happy he was to be in a ‘musical city,’ detailing his plans to frequent other jazz clubs in the coming days and meet other musicians and feel the city’s musical pulse. I was happy and scared for him at the same time: happy he was finally in his element, scared of what drugs he could get his hands on in a city so big; all the while waiting for him to return home to be with me.

The next day at school, while 2 was still in New York, the band room was buzzing with news and a crowd amassed in the room’s corner. When I approached, I found another member of the jazz band explaining her problem. “I have no idea what happened. I guess my debit card got stolen? I got charged for a purchase on some sketchy website that I’ve never even heard of. And my dad is so pissed, he thinks that the website is something off the dark web that sells drugs. So now he thinks I do drugs, and he won’t believe me when I tell him it wasn’t me. He thinks I’m lying.”

I left the room immediately and pulled out my phone to call 2. I remember him telling me he didn’t have the money to buy the salvia, but I didn’t remember him telling me where the money came from so he could order it online. He picked up, “Hello?”

“Hey. Did you steal someone’s credit card to buy salvia?” I asked him, with anger, fear, and slight resentment in my heart. I knew 2 had a problem, but I didn’t think he would steal money to solve it. I thought everything he did was lawful. Misguided, sure, but lawful. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied.

“The salvia,” I said. “Did you buy it using a stolen credit card? Because someone’s card got stolen to buy drugs online, apparently.” He assured me that it wasn’t him. He said he would never do something like that, because he wasn’t a thief. I was unconvinced. I said to him, “You need to repay every penny you spent on her card, or I’m going to report you for theft and drug use. I don’t care if salvia is legal, you cannot be stealing people’s money.” All he said was “okay,” before hanging up.

I thought I was appropriate in handling the situation. I was upset that he had wronged someone else, that his problem had escalated to the point that he needed to steal to get what he wanted, and that I was his pawn in achieving a malicious goal. I wanted no part of it, and I resolved to make him repay the individual who he stole from, not just monetarily but to explain the situation to their family, too. I felt bad for being stern with 2, but I felt that this had gone on for long enough: he would break his habit, and I would be the one to help him do so; if not through my compassion for him, then through brute force.

A few hours later, I got a phone call telling me that 2 had overdosed, and that he was being transported to the nearest hospital. Another member of the band saw as 2 collapsed in front of him, seizing and foaming at the mouth. The bandmate called an ambulance and 2 was transported among the traffic and sounds of the city, before he called me.

In retrospect, I don’t know why 2’s bandmate called me. Perhaps 2 had relayed to his band how close we were; maybe they saw how frequently I attended their shows at the hotel lounge and knew to call me. 2 would be at the hospital for a few days at least. I was grateful to be in the loop, but when I heard the news, I felt a massive weight of guilt.

My first reaction to the news was that 2 had overdosed because of me. I threatened to report his behavior, and even though what he did was illegal, and the girl in jazz band had every right to pursue a legal action, I wondered if he did this because he was scared. Up until now his behavior was secret; but I had put it together and threatened to topple his entire operation, not just about the theft, but the drug use, too: something he was adamant that no one know about. Out of anger I had threatened that I would expose it all, and I feared that his overdose was a reaction to it.

I couldn’t focus on anything else that day. I no longer merely wanted to be in New York, I felt I had to be there—wherever he was—at his side, willing him to wake up. It was a fear I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, and not knowing whether he would wake paralyzed me. I prayed that 2’s bandmates called the ambulance in time, that he would be well again, and would finally realize the gravity of his problem.

After a sleepless night, the next morning came with news from a bandmate. 2 woke up after getting his stomach pumped. He had overdosed on dextromethorphan, the same drug in cough syrup. The drug also comes in pill form, and he had consumed an entire bottle of twenty pills. The bandmate told me that they asked 2 why he did it, and all he said was, “I thought I could.”

I was relieved that 2 was at least okay, but the guilt I felt that he was in the hospital as a consequence of what I said kept me from calling him. I didn’t know if he wanted to keep me in his life, and the thought that he didn’t horrified me. I had come to rely on him and his company, not just for musical enrichment, but because I craved his attention. I loved him, and I’d spent every day at school in anticipation of when we’d drive to his house and share a smoke before playing inside. I feared that the overdose would change all of it, and that he wouldn’t want me anymore.

When 2 returned home from New York, everything was different. His father wouldn’t allow any visitors, and even though he was cordial in class, 2’s attitude towards me was largely ambivalent. Our history forced his kindness in class, but our shared knowledge of his secrets kept him at a distance. His true persona had been discovered, and I was left to watch from afar.

Eventually, his band returned to the same hotel lounge for a celebratory performance, to commemorate their New York debut and promise a return to form after 2’s stint in the hospital. I went to watch because I missed him. Even though I saw him every day, I felt that I’d lost him. Maybe if he saw my face in the crowd, just like he did all those months ago when we first shared a cigarette in the hotel parking lot, he’d remember the time we’d shared and come back to me.

I sat alone in the back of the lounge and watched him play. His playing was as good as it had ever been, but his physical presence drew my attention away from his music. I yearned for him to return my gaze—to look at me and smile—as if to say that the hellish weeks we had endured were over, and he would touch me, kiss me, share music with me again.

I looked for 2 when the performance was over, but a bandmate approached me instead: the same one that called me when 2 was hospitalized. “Hey,” he calmly said. “I don’t think you should see him right now.” He was referring to 2. The bandmate explained that things had been ‘crazy’ since New York, that 2 was different, and that my morality had scared him. That 2 had now thought my admiration was conditional, built upon my supposed moral high ground that 2 felt he had to meet and couldn’t reach.

My concerns weren’t based in morality though, if anything, I called 2 that day in New York out of my own selfishness. I was scared to lose him; I wasn’t imposing my judgment onto him. I wanted to shield him from the ridicule of others and the wrath of his father. It’s true that my fear might have made my words imply differently, but my concern for him was genuine, and my love was unwavering. I wanted to fight 2 on his mistaken belief, to somehow convince him that my affection was without condition. But then I thought of the fear I felt waiting to hear if 2 would wake up from his overdose, how much I wished to never go through such a feeling again. I had never dealt with such a conundrum: that my love was perhaps conditioned upon him being there to receive it.

Try as I might, I couldn’t talk about it with 2. He was adamant on avoiding me just so: not to the point where class was unpleasant, but to an extent that class was our only interaction. Gone were the days of shared car rides, dimly lit hotel lounges, jazz, and shared smoke. Our connection was replaced by polite ‘hellos’ and ‘see you tomorrows,’ and with each passing day, I could feel the space of where his hands used to rest on mine grow colder. I forgot what it felt like when he kissed me, and I stopped playing jazz altogether. Eventually we did drift completely apart. Today, 2 is a stranger.

I still listen to jazz’s greats, and Bill Evans is a mainstay in my home. Sometimes I wonder what 2 is doing now: I wonder if he still plays, I wonder if he still feels the need to get high to play jazz for an audience. I also wonder what he thought of our relationship, sordid and confusing as it was. Our ending was so abrupt, and every now and then I yearn for closure. What happened in New York? How did he feel about me? What could have been had I never called him, or had he never stolen the money in the first place?

I look back on that time with wistful nostalgia: the excited hope I feel when I remember how he used to teach me what he knows, or when he used to sit beside me on the piano bench. But underneath is such a tired sadness, a regret that things couldn’t have been as they should because of something that was out of either of our control. Addiction is too devastatingly real to reflect on with any romanticism; but underneath that still is a warm longing for someone who believed in me in the way that 2 did, and for what could have been.

#my writing #writing #journal #literature #short story #scenarios #prose #writers on tumblr #reading

1 note · View note