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watermelonsugacry · 1 year ago

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harry's 30th birthday blurb with 1d!yn?! 👀

Birthday Surprises

SUMMARY: Harry celebrates his 19th and 30th birthday with the person he loves.

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry

Since 2010 masterlist

Not to sound ungrateful, but Harry thinks that this was one of the worst birthday celebrations that he's ever had.

Tonight, he just wanted to spend his last year being a teenager having fun with friends—not be completely embarrassed and uncomfortable being strip teased and danced on by strippers.

Not to mention that afterwards, One Direction’s management team had booked him to do a relationship stunt for the night. So as he walked out of the club and into his security team’s Range Rover, a tall, blonde model was by his side. As bad as it sounded, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name for the life of him.

Nothing was going to happen with her anyways. All they had to do was a couple of paparazzi pictures of them together before they’re driven off into the night. The driver would discreetly drop her off at her own hotel before escorting Harry back to his.

So there's not an ounce of uncertainty that when Harry comes out of the elevator, he's absolutely tired and wants nothing more than to be left alone.

He waves his card key in front of the lock and once he hears the little "beep" sound, he pushes the heavy door open.

His irritation and tiredness might have just peaked over its breaking point when he begins to hear rustling from inside. He’s already extremely worn out that he doesn’t even want to put in the effort into putting on a nice face to whoever’s inside his hotel room. But the smile that appears on his face is effortless when he sees YN flicking the wheel of the lighter over some birthday candles sticking out of a chocolate cake.

“Fucking fuck—oh, surprise!” She hops, extending her arms out beside her in what she hopes to look like a grand gesture.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re celebrating your birthday.”

Anyone a mile away can tell how uncomfortable he was during the whole stripper fiasco. It sucked to have to stand off to the side, a faux smile on her face to see her bandmate in that type of situation. As much as she wanted to stay with him for the other “fun” festivities the night had to offer, she knew that she couldn’t let his birthday end the way it was heading. So she took the chance to leave the club a bit early and hoped that he would be up for one more celebratory, late night hang out.

“But, but it’s already past midnight,” He blinks, still a little dumbfounded at the kind surprise before him.

"Oh come on, we only have—err—three, ah! Two more minutes until your birthday is officially over." YN pulls Harry over to the small dining table and sits him down in front of his freshly lit cake. It's then that he notices the shaky lettering on the cake that reads, “Happy Birthday Harry!” Letting him know that she went more out of her way for him than she initially let on.

She comically clears her throat before beautifully yet quickly singing the infamous Happy Birthday song. The song isn't being yelled at to him by a big group of people, and the room isn't jam-packed with people he doesn't know. When he leans over to blow out his candles, he isn't fearful of hands going to the back of his head to stuff his face into the cake.

He doesn’t think twice about wrapping her up in his arms. He squeezes the tops of her shoulders tightly and she nestles into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, “Thank you.”

The sentiment doesn't, can't go by unnoticed, but it doesn't seem totally out of the norm. This is Harry. A sweet and affectionate person whose love language is undoubtedly physical touch. If anything, it'd be YN feeling the one out of place in this situation. And maybe it was a change of heart towards her anti-touchy feelings or maybe it was because of his birthday. Either way, he's grateful for the way she's letting him hold her. If it were anyone else, she definitely wouldn't wrap her arms around his torso, humming at the warmth he brings.

"Well the night doesn’t have end here,” YN blinks up at him. As if they both realize their close proximity, they slowly pull away to give each other some space. “If you're still up for it and not too tuckered out, I rented that one stupid rom com you like. The one with the guy standing outside with the signs."

"Love Actually? I thought you didn't like that movie."

"Well to be fair, I actually have never seen it. But it’s your birthday and this is sort of part of my gift to you. You know, if you even wanna see it. If not, I can just fuck off and you can sleep because I know you probably had a pretty eventful day—”

She’s rambling. YN’s rambling—a quality she was never prone to particularly show, but it’s cute. He thinks she’s cute.

“YN,” He chuckles, effectively cutting her off. “I’m down to watch it.”

“Really? Okay, cool. Because I already have the film on queue in the room so that would have been real fooking embarrassing.” Annnd she’s back.

He watches with curious eyes as she carefully slides the heavy cake plate onto her hands.

She throws a nod towards the kitchenette, “Mind grabbing the forks.”

As much as Harry tries to resist it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. He quickly grabs the two utensils before following behind her to the open bedroom. YN quite literally steps onto the foot of the bed before carefully sitting down, balancing the cake in her hands.

He sits down next to her, handing her the fork just as she begins the movie. They both dig their forks into the middle of the cake, taking out a chunk.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” She says, clicking the ends of their forks together. She happily hums at the delicious dessert but it quickly turns into a groan at the opening aong of the movie. “Ah not this stupid song again. I felt like this was all i was hearing just the other month.”

He’d be lying if he said he was watching more of the movie than her. His cheeks hurt from chuckling at her witty commentary and he tries not to make a big deal about the way she actually started to get into the film. So as he eats cake and spends the rest of the night with his best friend, he thinks that this might be the best birthday he’s had in a long time.

• 11 years later ●

YN stumbles through the front door as Harry cradles her in his arms, his mouth feverishly pressed to hers. They smile through their kisses, and he hums as she runs her finger through his growing curls. Harry kicks the door of their shared home behind him and blindly tosses the keys haphazardly in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Okay, okay,” YN pushes against his shoulders, finally getting a breath in, the pair still walking further into their home without separating. “So I know you said you didn't want any more presents—”

“Baby,” the grown man playfully whines. “You've already given me everything.” In all sincerity, she really has in his eyes. He’s been in love with the woman before him since they were sixteen. He wanted to be with her since their time in the band, through the making of their solo albums and everything in between. Even though it’s been a little over a year now, it still brings an explainable peace and warmth to his heart that she’s now his wife; not his friend with benefits, secret lovers, or merely a couple, but married.

And today couldn't have gone better. YN had the whole day planned. They started the day with lazy morning sex that turned into breakfast in bed. They spent the afternoon down by a secluded beach, having an impromptu dip in the water just before eating the lunch she packed for them. Then, after a plane ride to their private villa in Italy, they've just got back from having a beautiful dinner at his favorite restaurant.

“There's nothing more I could possibly want. Ooo, unless you're hiding some sexy lingerie under this fine ass dress you got here.” He says into her the crook of her neck, already sponging kisses onto her skin.

YN lets out a laugh, especially as his fingers begin to bunch up her silk dress. “No! Well, not no but—”

“So you do,” Harry says with excitement, the creases in his eyes appear when he hears her laughter.

“Just hang on a sec. Your present is upstairs.”

“So I get to unwrap my last birthday present in the bedroom,” He teases her further. Her husband relishes in the way she lets out a girly squeal when he dips down and effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder to bring them into the master bedroom.

“Wait, wait,” She pushes as Harry plops them down on the bed, already trapping her underneath him. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Once she's managed to wiggle herself free (with great effort, no thanks to Harry) she scurries off to the connected bathroom.

He sits himself down on the bed, undoing the cuffs of his button up before rolling up his sleeves, preparing himself to see if wife in lacy undergarments that are only begging to be taken off by his teeth. Or torn off. Either one would work.

“H, close your eyes.” YN says from behind the door. “I mean it, no peeking.”

“Alright, alright.” He complies, already feeling a childlike sense of giddy anticipation.

“Are they closed?”

“Yeah.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yes! For fuck sake’s woman. Being so mean on my birthday,” he laughs.

He feels the bed dip next to him before a kiss is pressed to his lips. Before he can bring his hands to her jaw to deepen the sweet kiss, he feels something being placed in his hands.

“Okay, open them,” she says against his lips.

He pulls back and sees a red box tied with a bow on top.

“Lovie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Last one, I promise.”

Just to tease her, he brings the small box next to his head and shakes it slightly to hear the contents rattle inside.

YN makes a strategic move by placing one of her hands behind him so her thumb can twist at her rings, knowing that that's her dead giveaway for her nerves.

When he opens the lid, it's only then his face gets serious—lips slightly parted with soft eyes. On top of the pile of confetti lies a pregnancy test. The small, red plus line stares back at him clear as day.

“YN?” When he looks to his love, she begins to hold back her tears at the sight of his watery eyes and pink nose. “Is—wha—are you sure?”

“I took like five of them just to be sure,” she lets out a chuckle.

“We’re having a baby?” Words can't describe the warmth and happiness that fills her chest at his excitement. It's not like they haven't mentioned having kids before. It's been brought up a couple of times, most recently these past two years, but the timing was never right. They were always working; whether it be on making an album, working on themselves, and for the longest time, tour was their babies. But now that their 2 year world tours have ended and they've finally had time to go MIA for a couple of months, it didn't feel like a better time.

The couple wasn't setting up a schedule or anything technical to have a baby. Especially since going on their second honeymoon had been occupying their schedule right after touring was done, they decided that baby making would happen naturally. Whenever their baby decided to enter their lives, that would be the perfect time.

YN nods and before she can say the words to verbally confirm, he has her wrapped in his arms. Harry lifts her off the bed and gives her a little twirl.

As quickly as he picked her up, he's on his knees before her and puts a gentle hand on her tummy.

“Hi, bubba,” he says softly. YN beams at the sight, already wiping at the happy tears running down her cheeks. “I'm your daddy, and I love you so so much.”

After placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, he finally takes his wife's face in his hands and kisses her. It isn't rushed or filled with a sexual need. It's soft and filled with so much love and passion.

“We're gonna be parents, baby. You’re gonna make the best momma," he says sincerely, getting more emotional at the thought of holding a mini YN or a mini him in his arms in less than a year from now.

"And you're gonna make the best dad," she hums. He wraps his arms around the tops of her shoulders, pulling her close to him as she cuddles into him. He presses a kiss to her forehead and sniffs back his tears.

"I love you so much."

“i love you, baby. Happy birthday, Harry.”

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @thurhomish @armystay89

(Let me know if you wanna be added 💚)

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0bticeo · 10 months ago

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lurk | feyd rautha

part two of five. (part one.) (part three.) (part four.)

summary:

the edge of the blade is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

he blinks. slowly, his lips curl in a smile. your gaze flits to them. to the plush lower lip, to the arch of his cupid’s bow. to their predatory edge. you’ll cut yourself if you get too close. maybe you need to take a step forward.

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

wc. 3k

tw. blood, death, manipulation, knife kink, blood kind (both heavily hinted at), possessive feyd, political machinations, little canon divergent because the atreides actually attend feyd's bday fight (canon dune part 1 one starts a little after that), please read part one first it will all make sense i promise. shoutout to @kpopnstarwars my most beloved you're going to enjoy this. same goes for you @jaiuneamesolitaiire . also please ask questions about reader/the plot i beg of u i need to get this out of my system

you’re falling.

you see white sands engulf you in their sickly warmth, greedy little grains sinking you in.

you’re falling, and there’s a distant roar ringing in your ears. you’re falling, lifeblood escaping you.

you’ve fallen.

black.

you peel your eyelids open. they feel like sandpaper against your eyes, coarse and rough in all ways wrong.

you dream. again.

the past shifts and twists in front of you, ever changing, desert sand falling through your fingers. the more you cling to it, the less you grasp it.

you let yourself fall in the abyss of memory.

you blink.

you stand by your father’s side, gait proud and regal in a dark dress - a convoluted affair of veils and silver. on your breast, the crest of your family - crimson falcon spreading, spreading. you think of blood blooming on your chest and shift, ever so slightly. the cool press of your blade against your forearm soothes you.

you are in troubled waters, after all.

geidi prime, home to your house’s sworn enemy, the harkonnen. geidi prime, its black sun sucking life out of its inhabitants, monochrome nightmare.

the flight from caladan was costly enough - you can almost hear hawat’s teeth grinding in discontent. a fortune, wasted on harkonen festivities held in honor of the na-baron’s birthday. yet, you must attend. you, betrothed-to-be to a harkonnen.

you’ve heard whispers. hushed conversations between your mother and father, an assessing gaze from the reverend mother herself. it won’t be the baron himself - too old, too sick to produce the desired offspring.

just any other member of that wretched house won’t do either - you are a duke’s daughter, your bloodline mingling with that of the emperor himself.

in the end, it all comes down to the baron’s nephews.

rabban - brutal. all furious brawns, minimal intellectual capacity, proficient for slaughter if used well.

na-baron feyd-rautha. utterly psychotic. deadly. precise. cunning. watching.

from his position at the baron’s right flank, he assesses you. you, back impossibly straight, hands folded before you, feet spread wide enough to spring to action should the situation go awry.

you, bowing before them, liquid smooth, a hair short of being disgracious.

you’ve only bowed low enough to respect the intricate harkonnen protocol, not to show deference. not to them.

the baron raises his head from his seat, barely.

“welcome to geidi prime, duke.”

you suppress a twitch. how utterly informal.

“thank you, baron.”

a shift in the baron’s entourage.

outrage, barely concealed. rabban looks ready to slit your father’s throat. how dare the atreides scum fail to recognize the honor paid to him and his suite?

they’re being left alive, have the privilege of witnessing their beloved na-baron’s coming of age, and still fail to show the due respect?

you let out a slow, drawn out breath. the ceremony will be held in two days. more than enough time for you and your father to be disposed of.

your lips quirk up. you speak.

“it is always an honor to be invited to festivities in which the emperor partakes.”

feyd-rautha’s eyes are on you. under geidi prime’s soulless sun, they’re white, depthless. a milky way of depraved harkonnen savagery. he bares his teeth with unbrided hunger. you know it to be a threat - you’ve heard of his harpies.

you think he’ll consume you whole, with the way his gaze scorches your very soul.

how delightful.

a pulse. the suspensors. slowly, the baron rises from his seat, gargantuan mass towering above you, shadow stretching and stretching until it encompasses all of you.

“the flight to geidi prime must have been quite draining.”

a tenth of your wealth. he who controls the spice controls the universe. the harkonnen have had arrakis in an iron hold for eight decades. your jaw ticks. bastard.

“escort them to the guest wing.”

servants surge forward.

feyd-rautha’s gaze burns, sinks in the exposed skin of your back.

your dream shifts. twists, turns, has you seated at a banquet table.

a feast.

one day left until feyd-rautha’s coming of age.

the guards don’t know how to hold their tongue. they expect a fight - the grandest thing under the sun.

the emperor’s here, sitting at your table. from the corner of the eye, you observe. he’s been put at the head of the table, the baron at his right, your father at his left. an attempt at appeasing eons old enemy. a failure. yet...

there’s an air of satisfaction to the emperor. haden’t you be trained in the bene gesserit way, you would have missed it, the way his eyes glimmer like arrakean spice.

finality sinks in as he takes the first bite, knife slicing open the tender flesh of an unknown poultry.

it looks like a falcon.

you take a bite of your own meat. medium rare, the proper way to consume meat. especially venison. princess irulan watches you, gaze assessing. she, too, has been trained in the way.

you smile at her, finger tracing the rim of your glass, spider-pleasantries networking endlessly. you ask her if she enjoyed your gift - a vocal recorder of the highest quality.

her smile is sincere. in the brutal white lighting of the banquet hall, you find yourself wishing things were different.

“how is your brother?”

you grin. you’re being watched.

“he’s grown. still has his back facing the door.”

she scoffs, amused.

“he’ll learn.”

under the artificial light, your wine looks like freshly spilled blood.

you take a sip and hum. the alcohol burns, sweet little fire settling low in your chest.

“is the wine to your liking, my lady?"

to your credit, you don’t startle. your shoulders tense, your hand freezes in its motion to lower the glass.

na-baron feyd-rautha is at your side, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

“it is, my lord na-baron.”

mine. mine. glacier eyes have you riveted in your seat, needle-like against your throat. mine, mine.

his lady. his to claim, his to wed, his to breed.

you watch lithe fingers curl around his knife and wish you could see him in action. watch the deadly precision he’s so praised for.

soon.

twist and shift, until you’re lost in a maze of hallways.

the ceremony is about to start - you can feel the low thrum of thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. shadows pass over you.

it’s cold, this architecture. metal wings stretching, stretching. should you crane your neck, maybe, you’ll watch them disappear in the ceiling. maybe. darkness is a looming cloud - these very walls soak up the light.

you, yourself, are a shadow. puppet dancing to the whims of whoever holds your strings. bene gesserit. baron vladimir harkonnen. the emperor.

you feel a storm coming.

you stop. light. an open door. a lone silhouette, porcelain white etched against black.

feyd-rautha.

he raises his head. sees you. tilts it to the side, lips stretched in a slow grin.

“are you lost, my lady?”

“so it would appear, na-baron.”

a twitch. flicker of annoyance in his eyelid, in the clenching of his jaw, sculpted edge caressed by shadows.

his blade is at your throat before you can make a move.

time holds its breath. it will snap and bleed raw at your feet, thick rivulets of it.

you will bleed, too.

your lips part, a muted gasp. the edge is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

your heart skips a beat. a droplet of blood trails down your neck, down to your collarbone, down to your breasts. his gaze follows. hungry.

“you’d make quite a mess, na-baron.”

he steps closer. circles you, free hand grazing your hip bone, left bare by your dress. you feel the heat of him. suddenly, you’re acutely aware of his bare chest pressed against you. you suppress a shiver.

“address me properly, my lady.”

he shifts his blade. it presses against your jaw.

“very well, my lord na-baron.”

a pleased hum, like a purr. you tilt your head to the side.

“what will you do, feyd-rautha?”

he turns by a fraction. his lips graze your cheek, a breath away from your mouth. your throat feels dry. they graze there, too, over your carotid, trailing up and up until he’s pressing his cheek to yours, guiding you, helping you see-

carnage.

servants, dressed in white, lying limp on the ground, throat slit with deadly perfection. blood pools on the ground. stretches. oozes from gaping wounds, until it reaches the hem of your dress.

concubines, three of them - sisters of fate, harpies with broken limbs, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. they’re smiling, teeth like fangs in the dim lighting of the room.

“help me,” he mutters, voice like a plea. “i will guide you.”

“and if i refuse?"

a low chuckle. deep, raspy. you melt a little inside.

“you’re brave, my little atreides.”

“you wouldn’t be the first to try to kill me and fail, miserably.”

his arm wraps around your middle, pressing you to him. oh, mother, why did you have to wear a backless dress? you feel each ridge of him, the perfection of a trained warrior, muscles taut from countless hours of training - he’d make sculptors weep with the lethal perfection of him.

“ah, the fabled tale. show me, little atreides.”

“say please.”

his fingers dig in your hip, thumb tracing small circles under the silver threads holding the fabric together.

“please.”

slowly, you raise your arm. the fabric of your dress, a convoluted affair of veils and velvet, slides down your skin. inch by inch, until the treacherous, ragged scar stretches along your forearm. he tenses, feyd-rautha.

“who did this to you?”

“a fool who underestimated me.”

an assassin.

sent to kill you and your brother as you were running around on the beaches of caladan. who took you first, had you pressed against him, blade at your throat - until you sweetly asked him to

unhand you.

he did. your mastery of the voice wasn’t perfect. you faltered. he struck. you bled.

killed.

words are the weapons of the weak.

that, you aren’t.

“how may i help you, feyd-rautha?”

twist, turn, until you’re facing him, holding a bowl of paint. thick, petrol black, it clings to your fingers like a lifeline. feyd-rautha’s hand covers yours. guiding you, dipping your fingers in the paint, raising your hand to his torso.

you flush a little.

he’s warm. so very warm under your touch. the paint is cool on his skin - you watch him shiver, abdominals contracting, and you trail down, down his pectorals, stopping just short of his navel, lingering over the fabric of his tunic. at his side, his fingers twitch, eager.

“more.”

“where?”

his hand reaches for yours. presses it on his chest. you can feel his heart, steady, strong - fluttering, hummingbird flailing in a cage made of ribs.

you want him, you realize. you want to consume him whole, sink your teeth in him until you can finally taste.

“where?”

you have to crane your neck to get a look at his face. something like amusement glimmers in his eyes.

he brings your fingers to his lips.

you blink.

spread the paint, thumb pressing down the plush of his lips. his lips part, suck you in and bite.

feyd-rautha watches you, tongue darting out to gather the sweet blood trailing down your hand. he presses a kiss to your palm, lips lingering against the callouses of your skin.

you let out something like a whine. the bowl falls. you never hear it reach the ground.

“you’re making quite a mess.”

bastard.

“you’ll make a bigger one if you’re late, my na-baron.”

twist and turn, again, and again, and again. dreams have meanings, and you won’t let this one escape your grasp.

you’re standing above the ground, in the gaping mouth of a harkonnen arena. on and on it stretches, cold metal sparring against the sky, gnawing at its decimated horizon. ink blots the sky. you think of blood pooling in the water. fireworks.

you step inside the lodge. the guards recognise you - duncan idaho flashes a smile, a sharp quirk of his lips. you nod. they part ways. let you join your father, sit by his side and watch.

the fight hasn’t begun yet.

“you look thoughtful, daughter.”

you look away from the immaculate sand and the thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. feyd-rautha.

your father is watching you, gaze austere. you will not conceal, not from him.

“an alliance with the harkonnen would be beneficial, father.”

silence. you watch the subtle twitch of his eyelid, the flexing of his hand. the guards do not hear. you’ve willed it so on your way in. to them, this is only pleasant chatter between father and daughter. harkonnen slander.

“you will not speak of such matters again.”

“the emperor-”

“enough!”

you keep your mouth shut. your father is a stubborn man, blinded by hatred passed down from generation to generation of atreides. as you should be.

horns blow. doors part, slide up. in comes feyd-rautha harkonnen, prowling on the wretched grounds of his playing ground. your binoculars zoom in on him. on the ease with which he carries himself, on the perfect arch of his neck as he kneels before the baron.

on harkonnen prisoners making their way towards him. undrugged.

you straighten in your seat.

the guards murmur. they too, have noticed the prisoners walking straight, carrying themselves with entirely too much ease.

“a bold move. what is the baron planning?”

your father. he’s watching too. all of you are, thousands of gazes riveted on the focal point that is the lone silhouette of feyd-rautha harkonnen.

you rip your gaze away from him and focus on the baron, a few meters above.

his lips part.

show me who you are, my dear nephew.

he’s fast. too fast for them. you relish in it, the fluidity of his movements, the way his hands tenses with each strike of his blades, bare forearms rippling with tension. one body falls. two. it’s barely been a minute since the fight started.

you cross your legs and watch, enthralled.

by god, does he fight well.

a reptile, slithering around his opponent, assessing him with the cruel knowledge of his supremacy. shadows loom over them, horned beasts ready to pry his opponent away from him should he prove to be in danger.

you feel more than you hear his outraged snarl.

“back off!”

that poor soul is his to kill. his gaze flickers upwards. up to the guest lodge, up to you. he bares his teeth in a smile, a flash of black against pure white, and strikes. blood splatters on the ground. a gash opens in the side of the prisoner. he stumbles but doesn’t fall.

no, he’s a fighter that one. lunches forward to pin the na-baron to the ground, wrestling with him, clawing at his arms, hitting every nerve until the baron drops his blades. he’s laughing. he’s getting the life choked out of him and he’s laughing, shifting until his feet find enough leverage to pull him up.

there’s a blade at his throat. the prisoner pushes and pushes, unstoppable force against immovable object. on he laughs, feyd. your eyes drops to his lips, where you see droplets of drool drip down his chin. you bite your lip.

feyd seizes the blade with his bare hand and twists. you hear the prisoner’s wrist break before you hear him choke on his own scream, coughing out blood. the dagger’s deep in his throat. it’s the only thing keeping him together - one fluid motion and feyd rautha wrenches it out of torn flesh and raises it above.

his gaze finds yours.

the dream shifts.

a veil unfolds, parts, until you’re walking the burning sands of arrakis. paul atreides, blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh, stands before you.

his eyes are blue.

you freeze.

a litany rises. lisan al gaib. your mother’s handicraft and eons of propaganda from the missionaria protectiva did its job well. here stands the one, scalding wind screaming around the looming silhouette of him.

bodies. bodies, laying on the ground, thousands and thousands of bodies, hands clutching at scorched earth, parched mouths opened in damnation. hunger. they’re dying in paul’s wake. fate will set the galaxy ablaze. fate will make monsters out of you.

“you know what must be done, sister.”

you do. there’s something a little broken in the way you smile at him, palm cradling his face.

“do you, little mouse?”

he’s tired, paul atreides, usul, muad’ib, lisan al gaib. sanctity doesn’t suit him well. he sees, but his eyes are sunken, his cheeks have hollowed out. there’s an edge to him, too. the bene gesserit were right to fear him.

“don’t lose yourself more than you already have, brother.”

it’s too late.

a jolt.

your eyes wrench open.

“welcome back, atreides.”

the baron.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x you #dune x reader #dune x you #dune x y/n #obticeo writes #bald freak supremacy

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itsmarsss · 7 months ago

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Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 8 - Catharsis

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own?

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word count: 4,900

Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, thoughts of death, heavy drinking, use of alcohol and sexual behavior as coping mechanisms. you know it's what you can expect from a blitzo-centered chapter. this happens right after the ozzie's chapter.

Blitzø is going to die alone.

He’s going to die alone and no one will attend his funeral or even visit his grave other than to spit on it and his gravestone will read ‘Here Lies Blitzo Buckzo’ and nothing more because no one will be there to tell them to cross out the O and he most certainly won’t be a beloved anything. He'll just stay Blitzo Buckzo, forever.

And Blitzo Buckzo fucking sucks.

Sometimes he wishes he was able to think before he spoke. He never does much of that and he’s aware he’d probably have refrained from hurting half the people he’s hurt if he could just keep his damn mouth shut. He didn’t think about this all that much… except for when he did.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own?

Her voice rings in his head non-stop, like one of those annoying fucking church bells he’d come across once in the living world that ring every single hour, making it unable for its existence to be forgotten.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own?

It rings over and over again, stubborn, and it just won’t fucking go away.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own?

Blitzø drives home on his own, but not in silence. He turns the radio on and the volume up until he figures it must be loud enough that he’ll have trouble hearing his own thoughts. It doesn’t work. The shit thing about thoughts is that they’re not something you can just turn off when you get sick of them. They follow you everywhere, all the time, inconvenient and impossible to get rid of. He proceeds to ignore the songs that come on in favor of mumbling incoherent things under his breath in a desperate attempt to reassure himself that he’s not bothered by everything that just happened. Things like I can think about people’s fuckin’ feelings and think you’re so much better than me, well fuck you and rich fuckin’ asshole thinks he’s hot shit and probably suckin’ face right now.

You know, things that prove he doesn’t care one bit.

Whatever.

He parks the van without a care, still too busy mumbling to himself, leaving it askew, taking up almost half of the parking spot next to his own. The old lady from 22 is gonna be pissed at the inconvenience. Well fuck her too. He doesn’t spare another thought on that.

He dreads the walk up the stairs to the apartment, wishing he lived somewhere with an elevator, or in a house, or in a super sick fancy mansion where he used money as toilet paper when he took a shit because he was just that rich. Actually, scratch that, that sounds uncomfortable. At least his shitty apartment with limited hot water and four flights of stairs before it had real toilet paper, and it was the nice kind even, he always made sure of it even if it was a little more expensive.

His little luxuries start to sound stupid when he’s been spending so much time around Stolas and all his fancy stuff.

When he opens the door and enters the apartment, his first immediate thought is to knock on Loona’s door. He groans once as he walks towards it and then once again when he spots the note she left taped to it. ‘Tex invited me to a party. Don’t wait up.’ Yeah of course he fucking did.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own?

Does he?

He does. He thinks he does, at least. Maybe not all the time, but why else would he have said those things to her other than to protect her feelings? It’s not his fault if she was setting herself up for heartbreak. She needed to kill those feelings and if she wouldn’t then he would, fuck being the bad guy. In fact, fuck her too! He could so think about other people’s feelings.

He groans a third time at the thought of spending the night all alone, because he already knows what being alone makes out of him, and he doesn't like it one bit. If he could, he’d never be alone, not even for a single second, ever. Maybe that way he wouldn’t be so pathetic and so sad, because that’s what being alone made of him: pathetic and sad.

It’s why Blitzø used to hate weekends.

Satan, he fucking hated them. Why couldn’t every day be a work day? Why would they need a break? If it were up to him, there would be no such thing as a weekend. Because on weekends he had nothing to distract him from the ever-growing nothing in the pit of his chest and that wasn’t much fun at all.

Until Y/N accepted the job at I.M.P.

Before that, they used to speak almost exclusively through text, extremely inconsistently. He’s never really been the greatest at texting, but he could spam her with stupid memes and pictures of him doing random things throughout his day and horse doodles that she didn’t seem mad about receiving. They spent a whole year like that, only meeting in person a few times here and there.

When he offered her the job he promised himself not to have any expectations because, well shit, why would she trade in an obviously well-paying job, with her best friend as her boss, where she’d been working for years on end without having to hurt or kill anybody, for whatever it was he was asking her to do?

But then she said yes.

It wasn’t long until he figured out they weren’t all that different from each other. Apparently, as much as she liked to complain about needing a break, just to annoy him, she dreaded weekends too. Not that she’d just admit that point-blank, but they did go out on on a Friday night after work and she did drink one too many and she sighed and complained about having to go home and it was all so much like him. ‘I don’t wanna be alone, Blitz,’ she’d told him.

He didn't wanna be alone either.

And so he took her back home and he slept on her couch and he stayed there the next day, keeping her company and, honestly, enjoying hers.

That’s how their tradition started. Almost every single weekend, the two will find themselves in either of their apartments, in the ugliest clothes they own, to cook or order something extremely greasy and unhealthy and marathon a shit-ton of movies, staying in on Saturday after going out somewhere on Friday. Loona would routinely call it ‘patheticville’ and ‘loser day’ and things like that.

He doesn't hate weekends anymore.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own?

And now he’d fucking gone and done this.

He still wanted to fight, then. To argue, to scream, to yell. He wanted them to do it too. To get down and dirty and scream back at him. He wanted a reason to react.

Blitzø has always been very good at reacting.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than you own?

But how was he supposed to react to that? The thought of grabbing his phone and texting her something along the lines of ‘fuck you and your pet bird too’ crosses his mind for a moment and, shit, maybe he is a prick, and he was gonna die alone wasn’t he? He was sure to if he kept doing this kind of thing.

And maybe he fucking deserves it.

Sometimes he wonders just how he’s going to die. Will it be peaceful? He hopes not. He sure as shit does not deserve peaceful. Maybe it could at least be cool. Maybe he could go down in a super badass shootout in the human world or a cool-as-fuck sword fight or something. Or maybe he’ll die in some dumbass way like tripping on the sidewalk and cracking his head open on the pavement. Maybe it’ll be in one of those days when he’ll be climbing up Stolas’ balcony and then he’ll slip and fall and break all his bones only to be found dead on the grass surrounded by ball gags and anal plugs. A stupid send-off for a stupid motherfucker.

He throws himself on the couch instead and curls up into a ball, wishing he had a big royal-size bed with soft sheets and like three or four fluffy pillows, or even a simple twin-sized one, or at least that the couch was a pull-out.

He grabs his phone and inevitably goes where he always goes when he feels like this- his ‘people I care about’ folder. He swipes through the various pictures. The ones of himself with I.M.P. in the living world, the one he made Moxxie pose with him for with them pointing their guns at each other, the one with Millie when she still had her long hair. The one from the day of Loona’s adoption, the one he took of Stolas sleeping next to him. The selfie with Verosika, the one he secretly took of Y/N watching the screen when he first showed ‘Spirit’ to her.

And then he lands on the one. The one with Barbie and his mom.

Blitzø is a 35 years old single father who kills people for a living. He’s been handling his own shit for almost two decades now. But in this moment… he just wants his mama.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own?

What would she have thought of that?

Yeah, he should have known it would be a ‘cry himself to sleep’ kind of night.

Blitzø doesn’t know for how long he’s been passed out when he wakes up disoriented. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, and that probably explains why his body ached so much with how uncomfortable the position he’d slept in was. He wakes up with the barking sounds of Loona’s special ringtone and scrambles to pick it up.

“Loonie baby? You alright? Did something happen to you, are you hurt?”

“No, Blitz. I just- can you just come pick me up?” She sounds like she’s been crying. Fuck, no, his baby needs him. No time to be sad.

He’s up in a second. “On my way. Send me the address.” He hangs up, searching for his car keys (which he found between the couch seats) and running down the stairs.

Loona went two rings down to Gluttony for this party. It makes sense, he supposes. He’s more of a Lust Ring party kind of guy himself, but he’s heard Gluttony parties got crazy. He accelerates as fast as the shitty van will let him and gets there pretty quickly, only to find her outside, still crying.

He rolls down the window before he even stops the car completely. “Hey, Loonie. How ya doin’, you alright?”

She wipes a tear with the back of her hand and enters the car with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine! I just wanna go.” She sounds anything but fine.

He’s about to ask her what happened when some fuckface he definitely doesn’t remember calls him by name. The wrong one. “Hey! That sounds like Blitzo!”

“The ‘O’ is silent, asshole!”

“Hey, I knew it was you! Fuck, man, where you been? You here for the party?”

“No, I’m just here picking up my daughter.”

The guy walks up to Loona’s window, and she hides her face from him with her hands, embarrassed. “Oh, shit, you have a daughter now?”

“Adopted!” She yells out, and it stings a bit, regardless of being objectively true.

“Oh, man, you’re already leaving? Things just got started! Come in and show us all up again.”

Blitzø groans, annoyed by the insistence. “No, no, thank you, but I think Loonie wants to head back now.”

Some other weirdo approaches the van, leaning on the passenger’s window. “Huh, the hottie wants to leave?” Come on, right in front of him?

He instinctively starts to growl. “Watch it.”

“I mean, we could stay a little longer,” Loona tells him.

He sighs. He’s not normally one to turn down a party, especially one with free booze, but he feels that’s probably what he should do.. “I think we need to go, ‘kay? I think it’s been a long night.”

“Well, these people seem to know you. Come on! I think I wanna give this another try. Pleeeeaaase?” She gives him the goddamn puppy dog eyes and she knows he can already hardly resist fulfilling her requests.

Well, if she insists. He could definitely use a drink…

“Okay, fine. Maybe one drink.”

… Or a good old night of drinking to forget.

Blitzø downs two tequila shots before he’s even made it into the house. He downs four beers at rapid speed as soon as he does manage to get inside, crushing the cans and cheering loudly when he was done, and then suddenly he finds himself saying yes to a keg stand. It’s so easy he can do it in his sleep. Fuck being too old for this, he’d never be too old to have fun. And he can handle so much more than a keg stand. “Ha-ha! That was nothing, bitch! Give me a real challenge!”

Beelzebub herself appears in front of him, seemingly materializing out of nowhere (or maybe he’s just drunk), all cheers and neon colors and psychedelic paraphernalia floating around her, and she does challenge him. “Oh yeah? Wanna fucks with the big bitch, imp boy? I got a challenge for ya.”

Someone somewhere murmurs “He’s gonna die.”

Now that sounds like a challenge he can get behind.

Vortex walks up to them, carrying two huge gallons of something and placing them on the floor between him and the Sin. “Aaaaight, let’s do this! From Bee’s personal supply, the hardest shit there is.” He crouches down to Blitzø’s height. “You ready, my man?”

Fuck, this better fucking kill him alright. “Bring it, barky! I will drink you under this fucking table, you have no idea what kind of night I’ve had.” He struggles trying to pry the gallon open, and Bee uses her magic or whatever to make them levitate, extending a straw from it. Of course she’d flaunt her magical powers and her easy fucking life to him.

“Alright, shit-talker, but there hasn’t been a soul yet who can beat me at my own game, so you better bring the fire, baby!.”

“Ohh, is Queen Bee too scawed to lose to a widdle imp like me?” He bets she is. And he bets she’ll be embarrassed when she loses to him (because she is going to lose). Fucking big names like her always are.

“Oh, okay. Let’s get it on, you little bastard!”

Vortex signs for them to begin and it takes about two seconds for Blitzø to have downed about a fourth of it already, but why stop there? He pulls the straw out and pours the drink straight into his mouth, downing the entirety of it at light speed. He’s so quick Beelzebub even stops chugging her own, amused… Concerned? Noo, no way. Amused.

He climbs on top of the huge gallon to be at face level with her and properly rub it on her face, high on the adrenaline of it all (and perhaps a little bit on the buzz from the extremely strong drink too). “Yeah, who’s the queen now?”

Loona cheers for him loudly, and it fills him with joy when she proudly yells out “yeah! That’s my dad!” Yeah. That’s damn right.

Bee lets her own unfinished gallon fall down to the floor and crosses her arms over her chest. Yeah, definitely impressed. “Well, fuck me. That’s a first. I haven’t had a first in a while. That was magical, seriously. Impressive. I tip my crown to you, imp boy. Respect.” Fuck her still calling him imp boy, but she’s actually admitting his victory and shes bowing to him, as she fucking should.

She howls, every hellhound around following suit, and Blitzø feels on top of the world.

Why does the world start spinning when you get yourself on top of it?

He almost falls to the ground, but then he’s getting held up by a bunch of strangers like a cool-as-fuck goddamn rockstar and, shit, why had he stopped getting wasted and doing this kind of thing every night again?

He doesn’t exactly remember when people started doing body shots off of him but he does remember getting freaky with a few of them, which did very little to make him feel good and honestly felt a little gross with the amounts of drinks getting spilled all over and making things rather… sticky, but it was doing wonders to his thought problem.

Who would have known having four strangers’ tongues inside of you at once could be a great way to muffle the unsolicited thoughts in his head?

The second those people fuck off somewhere else the thoughts come in again, though. Stolas hiding his face in shame behind the menu. Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? Y/n unable to look him in the eye. Are you worried someday I may have enough of it as well? Fizz is gonna hate him forever. You’re not my real dad! Verosika will always regret him. We could just… talk. Or… watch a movie? Or maybe… cuddle? Y/n’s crying face, Stolas’ disappointed one. Oh, they both had such fuckable faces didn’t they? Which reminded him: he really wanted to fuck someone.

He’s making out with a guy whose name he doesn’t know and whose face he doesn’t even remember when Loona pulls him off of him. “Oh, piss on a dick! What the fuck are you doing, Blitz?”

“This guy,” he grins, pointing to the unnamed man, who now stands still behind him. Wasn’t it obvious?

“It looks like you’re in the middle of a goddamn orgy. Stop!” Oh shit. Loona saw all that? An orgy does sound like some real fucking fun right now. Wait, focus, Loona. Fuck.

“Look, I didn’t expect you to come here and see any of this, Loonie, I’m so sorry, but it’s a party! I’m just having fun with uh… uh…” he turns back around to the man Loona pulled him off of. “The fuck is your name again?”

“Dennis.”

Ew. “Christ on a stick, you would be a Dennis. Get the fuck away from me! I’m not fucking a Dennis tonight. I need a Monica or an Alejandro here, stat.” He’s genuinely surprised that works when some hunky dude pulls him into his huuuge chest. Fuck yeah. “Better.”

Loona punches his Alejandro in the face, and he sincerely doesn’t give a fuck about it, because the world is spinning again, which is weird because this time he does not feel like he’s on top of it at all. In fact, it feels like the world is the meanest dom top ever and he’s a whiny, whiny bottom just sore all over from getting spanked ‘till his ass hurt. Not in a good way.

He falls back on Loona, and she catches him. “You don’t need anyone else sucking your face, freaky weirdo.” She throws him over her shoulder. “You need to drink something other than beelzejuice.”

She pulls him into the van, and she doesn’t rush to get home, because, according to her, she can see he’s already about to throw up. No he’s not, no sir! Ma’am. Loonie.

Whatever.

His mind clears a little as they make their way back home, and he pulls out his phone from his back pocket. Thankfully it’s still there.

“The fuck are you doing, dumbass? That’s gonna make you dizzy.”

“Gotta… gotta draw a thing.”

“You gotta draw a thing?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, as if that was enough information for everything to be self-explanatory, even nodding his head yes for emphasis. He surprisingly manages to take his time and put real effort into doodling it, showing it to Loona before sending it.

“Does it look like I did it drunk?” He slurs, letting out an unintentional burp.

“It actually looks pretty good, Blitz.”

“Okay.”

“So. Who’d you call stupid?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me dad again?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

He presses send and clicks on Stolas’ contact next, only to see there’s an unread message in their chat.

Stols: I’m sorry if anything I said or did offended you tonight.

Ha. Bet you really fucking are.

Still, he’s not Stolas’ fucking boyfriend. What was there to expect from him? Why would he expect anything?

Blitzy: ITZ WUTEVS

To Blitzø’s surprise, Stolas begins typing immediately, as if he’d been waiting obsessively for his reply.

Stols: Next time you come over, maybe we can talk about what happened at Ozzie’s?

Talk about it? What was there to talk about? Blitzø wanted nothing more than to bury the memories of tonight the deepest under the ground he possibly could. But of course Stolas would want to talk about it.

He always wants to fucking talk about shit.

Blitzy: Y?

Stolas types for what feels like forever, and it must have been, seen that they’re now only one street from the apartment complex, before he sends in a huge-ass paragraph.

Stols: I’m sorry! Nevermind, it’s not a big deal. I was just worried about you. You seemed very upset and you took off so fast. I’m sure things will be fine with Y/N, she likes you very much, I can see it. Maybe I read too much into everything, though. Not everything is about me, haha. I’m glad that’s not the case. I wasn’t upset either I just wanted to make sure you weren’t and obviously you can handle a stupid joke a clown can make. Asmodeus can be very invasive in his humor, and Y/N says she’ll talk to him about it, but I thought it was funny myself. What he said about me at least. I enjoy being the subject of jest. Maybe you can say mean things to me too next time you come over.

Now that is too much to fucking deal with right now. Which means he won’t.

Blitzy: SHUR.

He clicks out of Stolas’ chat, taking one last glance at Y/N’s before turning his phone off. She hasn’t seen what he sent yet, and that’s actually okay.

Loona parks the van messily, doing the same thing he’d done earlier and letting the car occupy some space from the neighbour’s spot. He doesn’t even think before asking her to fix it. “Sweetie, could you just park it a little more to the right?”

“Why?”

Yeah, Blitzø, why do you even care? “Well I don’t want that freaky cat lady to be up my ass about it tomorrow.” Yeah, that. Sure.

She doesn’t seem to find it in her to argue or even as much as groan, simply readjusting the car. She has to carry him over her shoulder again and all he wishes on the way up this time around is that he were a little more sober. She plops him down on the couch and he curls into himself once again while she grabs him a glass of water.

Nothing to distract him from his thoughts now.

“I had a really shitty day,” he tells her.

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you drank like five gallons of who-knows-what?”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“The person you called stupid?”

He nods, hiding his face from her when the tears start coming in. “Fuck, Fizz was right. I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I? Just a wrinkly, old, withered waste. Will you be there, Loonie?” Blitzø feels whatever consciousness he’d gained back slipping away again by the second, this time from the need to sleep rather than the alcohol. At what point did he get so tired?

“Be where?” Loona asks, and he’s too out of it to respond properly, only mumbling half-coherent things like lonely and die alone over and over. “I’ll be there, dad," she tells him anyway, and covers him with a blanket, the softest one they own. “Now go the fuck to sleep,” she orders, and he does hear it, he just doesn’t have the strength to say anything in response as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, his last thoughts being that at least he can’t think about anything while asleep and that…

He vomits all over the living room floor.

“Oh, fuck, I did need to throw up.”

[. . .]

You feel stupid when it’s Fizzarolli who finds you crying in Ozzie’s waiting area. He skips his way to the room, humming along to some song you can’t quite make out, and he almost doesn’t see you on his way into the office. He hears you sniffling, though, and turns to face you. It takes him a couple seconds to process that it’s you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Um. You okay there?”

You look up at him, but it doesn’t feel like you can say anything yet.

“I-” He motions behind him with his thumb. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna get Ozzie. Stay here, yeah?”

You don’t even know why exactly you’d asked Stolas to send you here when you were still mad at Ozzie. Or maybe not mad. Just… sad about everything that spiraled out of what he did.

Then again, did you even have anywhere else to go? You could absolutely not make the night worse for Millie and Moxxie by showing up at their place, thinking of Blitzø made you sad and Stolas was not an option. You had Ozzie, though. And you know you always will, despite whatever stupid shit one of you might do.

And it honestly beats going home to a big pile of nothing.

Ozzie appears shortly, Fizz having done as promised and fetched him. Fizz doesn’t come back, though, letting you and Ozzie have a moment to talk on your own, which is nice of him.

“Hey, pretty babe. Fizz said you were here.” He looks you up and down, worried. “Are you crying?”

“Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Why did you fucking sing about all that, why did you- it was so humiliating, Oz, fuck!”

“Oh. I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It got out of control. I didn’t even know you would be here tonight. You didn’t call me.”

“I didn’t know I was coming either.”

“You wanna tell me what that means?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Alright. That’s okay. I am sorry, though. We took the joke too far and I realized too late that it wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t. So please don’t fucking do that again. It’s humiliating enough to… fuck... and everybody saw it, and- I…” You groan in frustration, struggling to get your words out.

“No more about Stolas or any of you. Okay? Promise.” He sits down next to you on the fancy couch and he lets you lean on him. “Did something happen between you?”

You hesitate before speaking. “I didn’t- I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I am stupid. Of course he’s ashamed to be seen with us.”

“Stolas?”

You nod.

“Did he… tell you that?”

“Well he didn’t deny it.”

“Okay." He takes a deep breath, probably trying to think of how to handle the situation. "You’ll have time to think about all of this. Alright? Now you’re coming with me, you’re taking a bath and you’re sleeping over, and we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. There’s no need to hurt yourself more thinking about it right now.”

He stands up and turns to leave the room, but looks back when he doesn’t hear you do the same. You’re still sat sit still on the couch.

You look up at him. “Oz?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You repeat yourself.

“What- of course not. Did somebody say that to you?”

You don’t reply.

He purses his lips together, thinking. “Are they worth feeling stupid for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve gone through this before.”

“It’s different, you know that.”

“Yeah, it’s worse. They’re not hurting you back this time around, they’re just hurting you.”

You decide he was right. You don't want to talk about this right now. “Can we please not talk about it?”

He hesitates before nodding in agreement. “Yeah. ‘Course, babe.” He grabs your hands and pulls you up. “Come on.”

All the crying makes you so tired you’re almost passed out the second you lie down on the soft, silky bedsheets of Ozzie's guest room bed. Taking a look through your texts before you let yourself fall asleep, you click on Stolas’ contact once you see a notification for an unread text.

Stolas: I am truly sorry if I did something to hurt you or make you uncomfortable with me tonight. It’s not your obligation to talk Asmodeus out of doing anything and I did not feel embarrassed because of you or Blitz. If you need space from me I will understand, but I want you to know that is not how I feel. And, for the record, I don’t care what that Verosika person said about you. I hope you’re alright.

It is way too late and you are way too tired to process or deal with all of that, and honestly? You still do feel stupid, and don’t want to further that feeling by replying to him immediately. That feels too pathetic- it feels like proving Blitzø right.

You’ll reply tomorrow.

You click on Blitzø’s contact next, which also had a notification signaling an unseen message, and you brace yourself for a 'fuck you’ text or something of the sorts.

You can't keep yourself from smiling when you open the text, turning the phone off and just waiting for sleep come to you, and things feel a lot less shitty than just a second before.

Having friends is pretty fucking okay.

A/N: everybody say thank you @sweetadonisbutbetter and also wish them a happy birthday!! the adorable little doodle blitzo drew is theirs and they did it especially so i could put it in this chapter which is so nice of them and so fucking cool!!

187 notes · View notes

tiredfox64 · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering can you write Earthrealm champions x Arab reader who is like a Marcelina from Adventures time. She basically doesn’t need blood to feed and she sucking the red from things making it grey and one day when the boys was in mission reader jumps on Kenshi and sucked his coat dry.

Cherry Cola

Yip notes: Ngl Adventure Time scared me as a kid and I still won’t watch it.

Pairings: Earthrealmer Champions x Vampire! Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Bonk, somewhat proofread

Something is wrong at the Wu Shi Academy. The monks have been discussing the possibility of a wild animal in the area. But what kind of animal sucks the color out of a piece of fruit? And what could leave such big holes behind?

Oh, this doesn’t seem good. Vaeternus must be behind this. What else could create such marks? Why would they be targeting fruit? Nobody knows but they will still believe they are behind this.

This situation has put many on edge. Liu Kang would look into this himself but this might be a better mission for his champions to go on. He is confident that no one will be hurt. Because if this being is what he thinks it is then it will only be harmful to a primary color.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

All four of the men walked through the wooded forest of the mountains. They followed a trail of plants that were missing their colors. Roses, berries, mushrooms, and leaves. All of them had two holes left behind. Johnny took a look at one of the mushrooms and saw how deep the puncture wound went. He grimaced at the thought of being bitten by the possible vaeternian that was doing this.

“Damn, I really hope we don’t come across this thing.”

“Better to catch it now than let it roam around and believe it can do whatever it wants.” Kung Lao replied to Johnny’s worry.

“What is it, Cage? Afraid to be bit?” Kenshi teased his friend.

“Johnny’s concerns are reasonable,” Raiden advocated for him, “But we should try to capture whatever this thing is. Even if it is not a vaeternian it is something else that doesn’t mind sinking its teeth into things.”

It doesn’t help Johnny’s nerves that they were wearing the same outfits they wore when hunting down Shang Tsung. The outfits were made to lessen any possible injuries. His face is still open though! What’s gonna stop this creature from taking a bite out of his nose and sucking him dry…pause.

If a mosquito can find an opening, so could a vaeturnian, if this is a vaeturnian.

The further they walked the more they saw the flora missing its color. Raiden and Kung Lao began to recognize something. All of the plants and fruit they had seen would have been red. Everything else had been left alone. They give each other a look before looking at Kenshi. It might have been a bad move to let him wander with a coat that was almost all red. He is literally a walking platter of food for whatever is out there. It certainly isn’t a vaeturnian but it has vampiric elements.

They were passing by a cave before Johnny stopped them, “Woah, you guys better take a look at this.”

The three stepped back and looked at where Johnny shined his light. Further in the cave was evidence that there was someone staying there. There was literally a house in the cave. It looked a little rundown, but it wasn’t in any bad shape. The true evidence that showed that someone was there was the pile of rose petals. Half of the rose petals have been drained of their color.

“Nope, nope, nope.” Johnny wanted to turn back but Raiden stopped him.

“We have to finish our investigation, Johnny.”

“Do you not see what I’m seeing? That’s a trap. It’s a trap to lure us in and when we are deep into the cave whatever is in there is gonna bite the back of our necks.”

“You should stop using your phone. All those conspiracy theories are making you paranoid. This is not one of those “liminal spaces” you talk about.” Kung Lao mocked Johnny for being so afraid.

While those idiots argued about what to do Kenshi stood there in confusion. His vision could only make him see so far. He didn’t see what everyone else saw. He didn’t even know that the flowers and fruit were missing colors.

It didn’t matter. All he wanted to do was end this mess. He took out Sento and carefully made his way into the cave while everyone else kept arguing. The further he went the more he saw the house. The feeling of being watched hit him hard and he feared he might have walked into something dangerous. His head looked up and saw…

“Huh?”

A being. A human being or so he thinks. All he can see is someone upside down with their feet planted on the rock ceiling. He couldn’t see many details since he could only see the blue outline of the body. He stared in awe as he tried to figure out what was going on. That left Kenshi wide open to the mouth of a ferocious beast.

The head of this creature turned slowly towards him. The creature lunged at him before Kenshi could bring Sento up to protect him. Its body collided with his and he was knocked to the ground. Its mouth opened wide and Kenshi could see the razor-sharp fangs. He heard Johnny yell out to him.

“KENSHI!!”

Down the fangs came onto Kenshi’s…clothes…?

Wait what? Hold on, did I misread that? Ah, okay, this was more dramatic on his end than yours. Let’s step back a bit and get your side of the story.

You are no vaeturnian, you’re just a chill vampire. You look the role and play the role except you have an easier time when it comes to feasting. You don’t need to go out hunting every night for a human body to suck the blood out of nor do you need to pin down a bear and drink its blood. You have it easier by only needing to drink anything red.

It’s way more pleasant than blood. Blood is metallic and the taste stays longer than you would like. But when it’s something like berries or rose petals, it’s much more flavorful. It’s floral, it’s bitter, it’s sweet, it’s way better than blood.

You declared yourself a “vegetarian”. No drinking blood, only the color red. You wandered around the land trying to find new objects that had the color red to them. You found that being near the Wu Shi Academy was beneficial because of the many plants that were around and the clothes they left out to dry.

Oh you scoundrel, no wonder some of Kung Lao’s clothes were losing color. You couldn’t help it. Once you realized clothes had a whole different taste you had to try whatever you could. Kung Lao was like a sweet lychee to you. He was your favorite to feast on.

The little bit you could get from Raiden was alright. He would taste like blood orange if his amulet wasn’t involved. He was way too metallic with all that lightning he was producing. On the rare occasion you got to steal from Johnny he had a red wine taste to him. It’s sweet but could use more aging than he would be perfect.

You never got the chance to try Kenshi however. It’s a shame. You saw how he always wore red but he never left his clothes out to dry. It must be his expensive taste and how his clothes need dry cleaning kind of care. He just looked so tasty with all that red he wore. You thought you would never get the chance to taste that delicious man. So you sulked in your cold and lonely cave, drinking from the same old things.

Your wishes must have been heard since you heard people approaching your cave. You went into hiding by crawling on the cave ceiling and hiding behind a stalactite. You peeked to see who your mysterious visitors were. You were unable to see them until

gasp Kenshi?! All in red? What a treat!

You walked out from behind the stalactite to get a better view of him. That’s when he peered up at you with that lovely red cloth covering his eyes. This was it. This was your big moment to finally get a taste of him.

You lunged at him with a wide smile on your face. You were on him in an instant with your teeth ready to snag onto his coat. You heard the yell that Johnny let out but paid no mind to it. Down you snapped your mouth on his coat and began to suck the color right off of it.

Kenshi was rightfully confused. All he could see was you nibbling on his coat. He couldn’t see how the cherry red color was slowly draining from his clothes, leaving only a pale gray color. Johnny was the first to run over to Kenshi and you. He shined the light at you guys so he could see what was going on. He was perplexed by the spectacle in front of him. You were not harming Kenshi at all. You were harming his clothes more than anything.

“Wh-What is she doing?” Kenshi asked.

Johnny stayed silent as he struggled to explain the situation to the blind swordsman. How could he logically explain that all the color in his clothes was draining away? Raiden and Kung Lao came running, only to be stunned by the situation at hand.

“Would anyone like to tell me what is going on?” Kenshi asked once more, sounding more aggravated this time.

“She seems to be…uh…” Raiden was struggling to tell Kenshi the truth without upsetting him. Don’t worry, Kung Lao will say it.

“She is sucking the color right out of your clothes.”

“WHAT!?”

Just as you were about to finish sucking the last of the cherry red color, you felt the back of your head being hit with something. It made a loud thunk noise and you finally unlatched your jaw. You backed away while rubbing the spot where you got hit. You assumed that Kenshi hit you with the handle of Sento.

The men helped Kenshi up and looked at the damage you have done. All of the color in his coat was drained. There were only a few items of clothing that still had their red color. It’s not a bad look on him but that doesn’t help the fact that your actions were uncalled for. You hadn’t the slightest bit of guilt on your face. You seemed happy and full. Very gluttonous of you

“What was that?” Johnny asked.

“What was what?”

“That! That thing you did to Kenshi! How did you suck the color off his clothes?” Johnny’s concerns were echoing through the cave.

“Johnny, I think that is her ability. I think she can drink anything that is red.” What would these idiots do without Raiden?

You nodded your head, agreeing with Raiden’s spot on observation.

“So, if you drink red things, why have fangs if they are not used to cut through flesh?”

“You can’t drink soda without popping a hole in it. I need an entrance to suck the color out.” You answered Kung Lao with as much attitude as you could provide because his question was just stupid.

“So just to be one hundred percent with you, you weren’t trying to suck the blood out of Kenshi?”

This moment was weirdly incomprehensible to Johnny. He has never encountered a vampire creature that only sucked the color out of things.

“Clearly not! I don’t even like blood. The color red is much sweeter. He was really sweet, like uh cherry cola kind of sweet.”

There was silence for only five seconds. In those five seconds, the men found this situation a bit funnier, except for Kenshi. They realized there was nothing to worry about. You were an extremely harmless vampire who only sucks the red out of things.

“Wonderful…I think we can return to Liu Kang now. We can tell him that the culprit has been found.” Kenshi turned away from everyone and started to walk off. He put Sento away and walked with his fist clenched tightly. This day was just too weird for the men but it sure would be an interesting story to tell Liu Kang.

“Wait!” You called out to Kenshi.

He stopped for a second, hoping to hear an apology come from your red-stained lips. It could be about ruining his clothes, or pouncing on him, or even worrying everyone. But instead, you decided to say.

“Can I drink the red part of your shoes?”

“Haven’t you had enough?” Give Kenshi a break, please.

Yap notes: Not too sure I liked this one but I tried my best. I was pushing through my depression but nothing was making me feel great. Lots of thunderstorms and heat so it makes me a bit ill. Hopefully I can do a little better for the next fic I write. Sorry again if this wasn't my best. Adiós!

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quitealotofsodapop · 3 months ago

Note

Diet peach soup would probably have the celestials and Marshalls get involved a lot sooner. Overpowered babies are not a good idea to leave unsupervised. As for Macaque, the lady bone demon is most likely going to just shove him onto the thrall, as his problem. Either to be raised as her soldier, or as a potential backup vessel.

Prev.

Yeeeaah the Stalwarts have to get involved sooner than later since their king is now in his terrible twos (again). They present themselves to Pigsy and Tang as village elders who want to help them in raising the boys, and introducing them to their culture. Pigsy was eh on the idea, but Tang was uber excited! Monkey demon culture lessons!

Peaches and MK honestly thought that the Stalwarts were their grandparents for a long time, especially since they didn't know Papa Tang's side of family and assumed he was a just patchy-furred monkey. XD

Nezha, checking in on Wukong: "Why do I sense two baby stone monkeys- WHAT THE SCALLOP!?"

Peaches still gets his school bestie in the form of "Nez", albeit from an earlier age. Nezha can risk a mini-god running around without a voice of reason. Moksa tags in on his younger bro's behalf + as a kindness to Guanyin, as a "cool older kid" watching out for the little monkeys. The -Zha brothers want to keep Sun Wukong's condition as much as a secret as possible from the rest of the Celestial Realm.

Erlang takes one third-eye-look at the situation and goes "Ah crap, I'm gonna have to be their mentor." Cue an Athena and Telemachus dynamic developing between Erlang and the boys once they lift the Staff. But for now, he's Babysitter Jian - the only kid Pigsy and Tang have ever seen feed, wash, and entertain the little monkeys without so much as a grumble. (Jian, shrugs: "I have little cousins.")

Even the Peach Maidens who attended the Orchard with Wukong long ago ensure that he and his little brother are well-watched - glamouring themselves as a gaggle of old ladies in their favourite park. Always ready to pinch cheeks, give fresh fruit treats, and tell the boys how big they're getting!

The Thrall is currently reforming his body after Wukong slapped him across the country for stealing the Stone Egg (aka unhatched MK) + forcing him to drink some nasty potion (Meng Po's soup), so he's not much help in raising de-aged macaques rn.

Macaque accidentally dodges LBD by being a slippery little guy! Falls and crawls through so many shadows that its hard to keep track of him from the Underworld. Lives rough on the street for some time before ending up in the hands of someone who would truly care about him.

Sandy: "Aww. You're an odd little kitten aren't ya?" De-Aged!Macaque: (*spitting and hissing at the giant with all his might, violently protecting the cat food he found. Is barely the size of a football*) Sandy, gently picks up cub: "Hey hey... I used to be an angry little guy too. I learned that when a lot of people are upset, they're really just scared about something that hard to explain." De-Aged!Macaque: (*angry grumbles as he's picked up! Presses ears against fish man's chest to drown out the sound of the city*) Sandy: "Are your ears at you, little buddy? I can see why. One, two three... six ears! Thats a lot of earmuffs." De-Aged!Macaque: (*grumbling gets quieter. Absent-mindedly sucks on his fingers.*) Sandy, conflicted: "I... I really should just bring you to a police station or something. But something tells me that you'll need someone in your corner who understands how messy life can be. If I can manage it, would you be ok staying here with me?" De-Aged!Macaque: (*uninterested squeak*) Sandy, smile forming: "I'll take that as an Okey-dokey. Now... how about a name? Your white fur is super shiny in the moonlight... how about Moon?" "Moon": (*tares up at his new guardian with big violet eyes, one is milky and possibly blind. Makes a curious chirrup at the name.*) Sandy, heart-warming smile: "I think thats a winner."

Little Moon is a curious little guy. Not only because of his ears (the fish man jokes that it's his son's axolotl-like gills), but from an early age Moon has had control over shadows.

It began as simple fascination with stage magic. Moon watched stage magicians preform their tricks of misdirection and illusion, and wanted to see if he could replicate it.

Sandy: (*makes a bunny shape in the shadow of a lamp*) Moon: (*excited cheep!*) Moon: (*manipulates shadows to make many bunnies!*) Sandy, surprised: "Oh!"

Sandy was worried that this power wasn't something that could be trained easily, and an incident where Mo disappeared into one of Moon's shadows for an afternoon (reappeared unharmed once the treat bag was shaken) prompted the fish man to try and find an outlet for his kid.

Thats how he met The Nine Tailed Vixen. The elderly huli jing was hosting a children's acting class at her theatre, and Sandy wondered if it would aid his son's creative drive. It turned out to be a blessing since the heavenly fox was quick to identify, and help Moon tame his wild magic.

(Jiuweihuli is so relieved to have her protégé safe and sound again. Sandy is a good man, and she's glad that her little shadow has found a kind papa.)

Sensing a hunch, the old fox contacted Nezha on whether there wer other de-aged little monkeys...

Peaches and Moon meet during one of the acting camps. At first they cannot believe their eyes.

On sight they feel as though they've known the other their entire lives and beyond.

At the end of the day's acting camp, a group of old friends reunite.

Pigsy, with MK in a sling: "Sandy!?" Sandy: "Pigsy!" Peaches & Moon, running to their respective parent: "Baba!" Pigsy & Sandy, both surprised: "Baba!? You?!" "Yeah!" "Since when?" "Since I found him on the street!" "Whoa. weird."

Peaches and Moon are hard to separate after that meeting. Even if acting camp didn't turn out well for the ginger monkey (stage fright activated), they rarely go more than a week without an excited play date or visit to the theatre.

DBK's gut reaction to the young monkey demon holding his sworn brother's staff is; "Did Sun Wukong have a child- wait. What in Yama's name happened to you!?" Peaches doesn't answer the question as he nearly passes out screaming. Moon is half-way across town wondering what's scared his bestie so bad.

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cloveroctobers · 1 year ago

Text

FEBRUARY FLUFF — CARMY BERZATTO.

A/N: so carmy won this time around!!! Thanks to all those that voted and ultimately made this decision for me lol. Hope you guys enjoy this and have a safe, healthy, and happy love season 🩷 + yes this is a mixture of fluff and angst...i mean come on! I wouldn't be me if i didn't include that in here somewhere!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 1. “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.” “What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” + always giving the other the first bite of their food < or the last.

WARNINGS/SN: I wrote with a black or brown reader in mind although reader isn't physically described + they’re given a name only when mentioned, language is a thing here duh!, this is LENGTHY, lots of timelines: reader + nat became friendly before season 1 during the summer prior to 7 fishes which is estimated to be five years before season 2, reader knows of carmy due to past work, I feel like she can be just a few year(s) older than carmy but younger than nat—there’s a age gap for the Berzatto’s anyways, sexual relations are mentioned, this piece takes place months after the grand opening, & finally there’s a possible chance for a poly relationship or maybe just multiple crushes going on? Take that how you will.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

it was a Sunday.

The kind of Sunday you woke up embarrassed about but knew you had to swallow your pride and just send out that text. You knew you wouldn’t be judged regardless reaching out to Fak because he’s built to deal with things like this and never made you feel like shit about anything.

You usually had to squeeze it out of him to get him to lay out any cons about a situation but appreciated most times when he didn’t. Your minds been going haywire with a recent assignment as a food journalist and it really slipped your mind, although you were usually a quick thinker, you’ve been stressed over this recent restaurant. Thankfully it clicked for you after throwing a tantrum to simply reach out to Fak to come help you out.

The stupid lever in your bathroom decided to stop flushing on you and of course you panicked. Who wouldn’t panic in a situation like that? You no longer had a roommate and strongly debated if you even wanted to search for another; after the shady actions of the previous one, so you really didn’t have to worry about them giving you shit either. (Let’s see if your rent feels the same next month!)

It was just you in the end and perhaps you were learning to be okay with that.

Yet that didn’t stop you from FaceTiming Sydney about it. “Hey Siddy, how’s your day going?”

“Pretty good, yours?” She politely asked as she moved down the hallway of her shared apartment to prop her phone on the pedestal sink, moving around her functioning bathroom to grab some oil to grease her scalp.

Smacking your lips you glare, “it fucking sucks.”

“Oh?” Sydney questioned, appearing back in frame, “what happened? Did someone egg and scratch up your car again after a review you gave them? Noo wait, don’t tell me there’s a bullet hole?!”

That was light work compared to New York (it really wasn’t a competition of which state had its worst moments but your home state left you kinda triggered, not gonna lie!) where you were just starting off and those that were in tune with the culinary world didn’t take your words with a grain of salt. Most nights you still woke up gasping for air, reaching for your throat due to some trauma of a break in from a well-known nepo-baby chef. Don’t get that twisted, your mom didn’t raise no punk but that didn’t mean those events didn’t mess with your mental and you acknowledged that every time you had a nightmare. They only served three years and five months compared to the original five year sentence.

Ah the system…got to love how that works out for the privileged!

You shrugged, “no…the threats have been pretty tame lately so I can give myself a pat on the back for that. However! I still am in a crisis.”

Sydney begins to move her braids around to expose her scalp, “Elaborate for me.”

“My toilet won’t flush!” You whine, laying flat on your messy bed. You tended to not make your bed on Saturdays and didn’t get around to making it today—although it was after 3pm.

Sydney asks, “Like the waste won’t go down…?”

“Exactly!” You confirm throwing your arm over your eyes dramatically, “The lever thing is moving like my old dislocated shoulder.”

Sydney gags, “don’t fucking remind me of that day. That was spooky to witness but I am glad you healed from that.”

“Thanks girl, means a lot, truly.”

Sydney gives a small smile, “don’t mention it…have you considered YouTubing it? That’s what I do when I don’t want to ask anyone for help and figure it out by myself.”

You hummed knowing this was true. In a sense you could be like that too, especially when it came to the working field, since writers can tend to be some nasty bitches and always in rivalry with each other. You made a name for yourself in Chicago as well, coming from New York where you worked just as hard-maybe even harder than the rest to mean and write exactly how you felt about cuisine, regardless if anyone agreed or not. It wasn’t about if people liked you, the relationship with food would always be more significant and hold value in your life, just like the rest of these chef’s you encountered and you got that, people were allowed to be sensitive about their work. You’ve come toe to toe with many chef’s around the world who didn’t like your take on their craft but that didn’t mean you didn’t understand them. They hardly took the time to really dive into your ratings and automatically took it as you shit talking or not having any idea what you were saying since you “weren’t really a chef,” but you knew your worth most days.

Yes you could be straight forward but that didn’t mean you lacked compassion like some chef’s liked to think according to your reviews. You often wrote in a way that was puzzling to some, almost philosophical or riddle like with your own twist. Some just didn’t get it and that was okay but you wouldn’t back down from any confrontation. The second they didn’t want to really listen, that’s when you removed yourself from the escalating problem. It didn’t have to get violent like some wanted to inflict.

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” You exasperated, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead.

Sydney snorted, “maybe because you’re under a lot of pressure lately and the most simplest of things don’t come as easily as they should.”

“You would think I have high blood pressure with the way these past two weeks have been.”

Sydney says, “give it time.”

“Gee, thanks! That’s exactly the kind of shit I want to hear from you.” You roll your eyes at the blurt of words that commonly escaped the braided girl’s mouth.

Sydney breathes out a laugh, “I’m just joking!”

“Yeah, yeah! Maybe I should text fak back and tell him not to come by!”

“You asked fak instead of the apartment manager?” Sydney is in amazement.

“Fuck that noise, he’s so full of shit that he should see a doctor about it. He’ll show up to analyze the problem, then acts like he’s going to fit you into the schedule and then when you catch him in the lobby he pretends that he has amnesia.” You commented with a scowl.

You get ready to minimize the call to text fak but some obnoxious knocks at the door made you pop up from your bed. “That was fast!”

Hopping up from the bed and padding out of the last bedroom in the apartment, you made the journey through the foyer to the awaiting black front door. Peeking through the peephole you spot Fak grinning widely up into it, almost making you jump back.

“He’s made it Siddy! I’ll call you back!”

“K. Good luck!” Sydney calls out before you end the call to pull the door wide open.

“Neil!” You scream, quickly latching onto his tatted wrist ready to yank him in until you notice someone else is with him, “…why is he here?” You point.

Fak quickly glances over at a brimmed Carmy who raised a brow at him in a silent told you so manner, “I mean we were having a boy’s day when you called and I didn’t want my buddy to be left out. Plus, it’s always great to have some assistance.”

“…i find it hard to believe that Carmen wants to fix my toilet.” You cross your arms, poking out your hip as you stare at him.

Carmen shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to wait in the car if it makes you feel any better.”

“Hmm…it doesn’t.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose briefly in agitation, “you know what, fak you’ve got this right? I know you do so—

“Nope!” Fak quickly interrupts, “this maybe a two person job so aspie if you just let us do what we came to do—

Shooting an arm out to block the doorway you peer into Fak’s dark teal eyes to show you mean business, “didn’t I say I dislike that nickname, Neil?”

He nods.

“Also i find it offensive that you brought an uninvited guest to my place.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t Richie because that was also a possibility before he ran off to pick up the kid.” Carmy snaps making you roll your eyes.

If Richie was here you been would have slammed the door in both Fak and his face. Sure you had some sort of tension with Carmy and beef with .......his cousin but at least Carmy only gave it back to you when he had the energy to—meaning if he was already on one. The issue was simple, you wrote a not so nice review once before when the eldest berzatto, Michael was alive and running the joint. Richie couldn’t forget that and actually kept the clipping, yes the clipping of the review way back when. He had the receipts to show Carmy and Carmy actually brushed it off then, not seeming to really care or doubt some of the words that were said.

He came to revamp the place because Mikey left it for him, to fix the mess his big brother left behind, to create what they’ve always dreamed of. Sure he got shit for it in the beginning and part of him felt like maybe that was your case too? He could relate to you on that, yet the weight was slightly different on his part and he even spoke with you not long after he found those tomato cans.

That gave him a certain push he couldn’t really explain. He may have done a brief dive on you, wondering why you felt acquainted to him—completely forgetting about seeing you once around Noma—choosing to start with reading previous reviews by you on other restaurants here in Chicago and a few interviews you’ve done over the world. You weren’t just some nobody, you held your titles well and it reflected in your work.

You weren’t clueless.

He just didn’t really know what he was dealing with until a short time ago.

What he didn’t expect was for you to show up again on opening night with a certain head chef, also from New York. That made carmy more anxious than anything, seeing you sitting beside that four eyed fuck ready to set off a tornado in the heart of the bear. Was that your motive all along? With carmy attempting to build a bridge, not for you to kiss his ass with praise but there was a odd need to have a simple conversation with you. It was weird but it seemed like Sydney, Fak, and Nat liked you?

The jury was still out with the rest—except Richie but you were a mystery to Carmy. However carmy wasn’t the best at putting a read on people or their emotions in the first place, he was good at fucking that up unless you’re screaming it into his face. That’s just how he operated.

“You two can come in—only because I don’t have the patience with the manager here and Neil’s the best I’m gonna get.” You state while fak slaps a hand on his chest.

“That was really sweet, Aspen.” Fak cooed ready to pull you into a bone crushing hug but you hold up a finger.

“Save the hugs until after you fix my problem.”

“You got it boss,” Fak salutes before diving under your arm to travel through your apartment, ooo-ing and ah-ing before finding the bathroom around the corner from the living room.

Sighing you drop your arm and wave carmy through, who keeps his view straight while traveling through the hallway. You call out to him, “you can have a seat on the couch.”

“What? Did you drop a load or something and is that the real reason why you don’t want me to help Fak?” Carmy comes right out with it, nose twitching in amusement after whipping around to face you in the center of the living room.

See…only when he’s frustrated or overly focused will he just let it out. Some may look at this as Carmy attempting to make a joke but you took that somewhat personally. The only thing you were thinking after he said this was: What an ego on this one huh?

You stop on your heels and tilt your head to the side, “are you telling me that you think women or fem pronoun users don’t take shits? Do you know what it feels like to have period shits?”

Carmy blinks at you and shouts with his hands out, “I...don't even know what the fuck you're getting at? I wasn't even trying to be sexist to you just then! I asked you a honest question—

“About you being in my business,” you pointed out, “contrary to your beliefs I have a heart and decided to be nice to you and let you stay in my place to keep warm. You’re welcome!”

“Oh bullshit, don’t act like you’re doin’ me any favors.” Carmy scowls, “you don’t even want me here.”

You shrug, “yet you’re here in my apartment, yelling.”

Carmy exhaled while you smirked at him sweetly before turning to lean against the wall that leads to the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there, Neil?”

“Oh yeah!” He says, “I think I figured out the problem. Easy peasy!”

“Great!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out from your sweats to read a very important email.

The weight of stress seemed to lift a good chunk as you quickly responded to a email that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been invited out (squeezed in) to a taste test at this restaurant for this evening that you’ve been trying to get into for a month before you brought it up to your employer. The deadline was approaching for the end of this week to have a review ready and they just responded to you five days before that deadline! Reading over it twice, the squeal in you slipped through your smile until you read the exceptions.

If you were to go over the amount of food purchased, which you would put on the company card anyways, you can get a discount if you brought a plus one and some reimbursement if the review was satisfactory to the owners—which the last part wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

You usually didn’t bring a plus one to any of the places you did reviews for, you got comfortable doing outings all on your own but this was different. Sure you were somewhat known in the culinary world but that didn’t mean you were a millionaire and this restaurant was apparently upscale. There was a waiting list regardless of your status—even for the celebrities that went there so this was a big deal and they gave you a short notice. Usually Sundays were known for a reset for the week but what better way to start it?

You don’t go forward with reaching out to anybody else that you work with. This was your battle and you were aware that two of your other co-workers also reached out to this restaurant. You just hoped you were the only one they picked and wouldn’t miss out on the great opportunity just because you weren’t sure about your guest.

A few hours before show time and you had to find somebody to attend with you. Your best friend was away in Cabo for a honeymoon, the other (who recently planned on moving to ATL) was dealing with the flu and had their no good ex boyfriend taking care of them, Sydney was suddenly MIA, and you even considered inviting Natalie Berzatto to piss carmy off just a bit.

“Hey, Nat!” You greet into the phone as you walk into the kitchen, witnessing Carmy perk up from the couch.

It’s small talk at first: you asking about how her day is going as a mom to be, if she’s going to be at the bear tomorrow, did she watch the Emmy’s the other night, tell her husband you said hello, and then finally if she had plans for tonight.

“…are you asking me to hang out?”

“We had fun at that club way back when no?”

“Yeah! But that was how long ago?”

You knew it’s been awhile. You were always friendly with Natalie, meeting her first—well second out of the siblings down at the small mart one summer you helped out at that your great-uncle owned. She was huffing about something her boyfriend at the time, Pete forgot to bring her and some groceries she was picking up for her mom. You were cool enough to become Facebook friends, exchange numbers, go out for coffee and go to the club together. This wasn’t unusual to call each other randomly but you knew she commonly got shit from Michael and Richard about her talking and hanging out with you.

The thing about Natalie Berzatto is that she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes she saw your review yet she kinda laughed about it initially but it was all fuck you’s from the other two loud mouth’s. Of course she was going to listen to her brother but she still had a mind of her own. she didn’t care to listen to Richie go off but she understood how Michael felt, although she was the only other Berzatto that heard you out.

Except you didn’t owe anybody an explanation even if some felt you were more cutthroat in your younger years.

“...Before you and Pete even thought about marriage?”

You were younger than them but you imagined how it would always work out for Nat and Pete, which included growing old together.

“Wow! Yeah that sounds right.”

“So…?”

“Can’t do it.”

“You didn’t even hear all the details!”

“I know, I know and it sounds like it’ll be a real fucking blast but if this kid wasn’t sitting on my sciatic nerve constantly and if my feet weren’t the size of two honeydews…I totally would! But I’ll have to decline this time around—so please don’t hate me!”

“I could never!”

“You know you could always ask carmy-

“Why on earth would I do that?” Your reply was instant.

Natalie sighed over the phone, “aspen…the potential of friendship and love is a beautiful thing.”

You scrunched up your face at the phone before placing it back to your ear.

“Do you want me to hang up on you?”

“I’d call you a rude bitch if you did but then get over it.”

“I can live with that because I know it’s real love between you and I.”

“…whatever that means.”

“Right.”

You both laugh, knowing just how weird the subject of love can be. Although you didn’t talk all the time it was always okay for one of the other to drop a venting text or call each other’s way and know the other would get around to responding. The both of you may not be the best of friends but you did consider each other friends regardless. There were conversations between the both of you that no one knew about and would be a constant reminder of what kind of friends the both of you would remain.

Natalie wished things could have been resolved between you and Michael but she reassured that the dislike wasn’t as deep as it seemed. There was no secret that you felt awful about how his life ended and being there for nat during that time also meant a lot. She told you that one of the last conversations she had with Michael was about you and it felt as if he was learning to let go of your review, slowly taking in Nat’s words of you not having a cruel bone in your body especially with all that you’ve done for her.

Anybody that showed his sister true friendship couldn’t be complete garbage. As much as he tolerated Pete, Michael was always aware that he was good enough for his sister. They were all cut from different cloths and the Berzatto’s were just from the same but opposite corner’s.

Natalie telling you this was not to erase any worries you had since that is always brought to the surface when someone you’ve been face to face with before decides to end it all. It was to show you that nobody ever truly knows what anyone is thinking whether there is love there or not.

You can feel Natalie smiling through the phone, “Think about it…all that tension could be smoothed out if you extend the olive branch…now it’s your turn.”

“It’s not my fault he switched up on me after your opening night.” You didn’t lower your voice or make it louder but you were definitely staring at carmy now who was side eyeing you, looking like phineas from phineas and ferb.

“That’s something you need to talk to him about, don’t you think?” Her tone was always so gentle that it made you sick sometimes because she could be right.

“I’m not here to do think pieces.”

“…aren’t you a writer?”

“Have a good night, nat.”

“Ta-Ta!” Natalie sing-songs, “be sure to send me the deets later because carmy never tells me anything! Bye! Chat later!”

Hanging up the phone, you slide it onto the counter and tap your nails against the island. To the right of you, you pick up on some clinking in the bathroom—which sounds somewhat normal and zone in on carmy who’s also holding onto his phone but staring at the blank tv in thought.

“Hey, Carmen.” You call his name.

His bright blues turn to you as if he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your conversation here and there between his texts with Marcus.

“You. Me. The Saffron Simmer. 7pm.”

The air is frigid as the both of you hunch your shoulders shoving through Chicago’s winter. Shockingly the streets are filled with cars tonight so you had to park on the next street over before walking up and around to The Saffron Simmer. Carmy offered to drive, which was a debate—no shock there—since there was no way he was leaving the bear stock van behind for no license having fak to play around in.

Fak definitely found that offensive and said he didn’t mind hanging out at your place, being done with your toilet but with the look you sent him he said he’s find an Uber or fak2 can pick him up. It’s not like you didn’t trust fak in your place…it’s just that the possibilities of what he can get into are endless.

You also didn’t want to ride in the bear’s van not because of shallow reasons, you just wanted to annoy carmy just a bit more for fun. Walking mostly everywhere was the way to go growing up in New York and Carmy working there so doing so here in Chicago wasnt foreign either. However with the type of cold here in this city is enough to give the bravest of hearts hypothermia. So obviously driving was the best option, it’s just the petty back and forth between you two of who will drive had to be spewed.

Eventually you gave in and sat in the passenger side of the van, being on DJ duty for the twenty-five minute drive—something carmy didn’t care to argue over. The both of you made it on time, throwing the door back for carmy to catch then bouncing on your toes while he blew into his gloveless hands waiting on the greeter to find your reservation.

The pictures didn’t do The saffron simmer any justice. There was so much to look at with its modernized speakeasy décor and the high ceilings did a superb job of making the both of you feel small in the spacious space. Thankfully the dress code was business casual so you didn’t have to go all out but you still put in the effort of looking your best in simple attire. You’re shrugging out of your scarf, earmuffs, and puffer coat while Carmy is already seated; with only the removal of his cap across from you in a chair.

He’s watching you as you place everything neatly to the right of you before you're taking a seat in the leather oversized chair, then digging through your tote to pull out your notepad, Sony camera, phone, and bolt pen. You quickly scribble something on the first line and circle it before dropping your pen.

Rolling the sleeves of your long sleeves back underneath your blazer, you roll your shoulders with a close of your eyes before opening them with a look of determination.

“Wow, that was something.” Carmy tells you, making you set your eyes back on him, forgetting just that quick that he was your plus one.

Clasping your hands together you quirk up a brow, “What?”

“Watching you prep.”

You dip your head, “should have seen me before I got dressed…much worse.”

A smirk appears on the corner of Carmy’s lips, “oh yeah?”

“Well yes, I can contain myself in public, Carmen. Your home is supposed to be your safe space so that’s the best place to go a little crazy sometimes.” You inform, yet still not giving too much away.

“Why are you in your head about this place anyway?” Carmy peers around the slightly filled dining area before meeting your eyes once more.

You lift your shoulders, “have you seen the way they market this place? Giving not too much away although it’s top ten restaurants here and I can either contribute to its success or its downfall. They picked me for a reason so my review matters at the end of this year.”

“But you uh-get a thrill out of this shit don’t you? It’s what you signed up for, right?” Carmy is actually relaxed against the chair across from you.

Which is a sight to see.

You state, “it’s part of the job, if that’s what you mean.”

Carmy blinks and seems to get it, “and so you stay.”

“So I stay.” You echo while holding his stare, which is broken by a piece of the stone table lifting and showcasing the menu illuminated by sepia lighting in the dark of the restaurant.

Carmy’s bright eyes are wide as he stares at the menu that appears right in front of your faces. There’s a grin on your face as you rest your fingertips around its rough edges, almost as if you were expecting this while carmy blows out a breath.

“The hell is this place?”

You peek over at him, “some next level shit, berzatto.”

“Yeah…I think I’m starting to catch on.”

You turn your attention back to the menu, swiping your fingertips along the touch screen although you’ve heard things about the menu, which they kept offline since apparently it renews monthly.

“What looks good?”

“Uh…these pages aren’t even labeled." Carmy exhales through his nose, eyes searching all over the tablet, "I have no clue. You?”

The words come at ease for you, "One of almost everything maybe?”

“Sounds good...I guess?”

“On me by the way,” you state with a wink as you flash your company card.

“I’ll get the tip then.” Carmy pats his jeans, the left containing his carton of cigarettes, the right holding his keys, lifting his hips he checks for his wallet although he’s been sitting on his behind for about ten minutes now.

You don’t argue with that, eyes in awe at the selection of items as you start ordering, “don’t forget to order your drink.”

“Water should be fine,” Carmy mutters to himself, eyes scanning over the first strange title of water that is described as flower and ginger infused purified water and decides to go with that.

You finally express after rapidly letting your fingers go over the screen and taking a picture with your phone, “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.”

It sounded so easy to you as you quickly shifted to pick up your pen and start writing notes.

“What was that?” Carmy pressed his elbows into the edge of the table, making sure he heard you right since he’s not even sure if he can trust his inner thoughts lately.

You’re still scribbling but also turning your face towards the messy haired chef, “you heard me. We have to act like we’re in a relationship because I’ve definitely went over the budget on the card.”

“That’s not really my problem?”

“Yes it is,” you demand, “you agreed to be my plus one so that’s that. Plus this menu further confirmed my suspicions from the email.”

Carmy scratches at his brow confused, “what are you talking about, aspen?”

“Here,” you swipe across your screen towards Carmy’s device, which brings up another screen instantly to carmy who’s in awe but scans over the details.

You didn’t share the email with him but he’s heard about how high tech this restaurant is but didn’t have the time to do his own research.

*Significant others in attendance are subject to applicable discounts.*

Carmy feels his stomach cramp at the fine print and it so small that he was sure anyone could have missed that.

Not you.

“…how exactly are we supposed to prove that, hm?” He's gripping at his greasy hair now, feeling himself getting a bit worked up about this.

You fanned your hand along, “just do what couples do and follow my lead...Depending on our witnesses,” you whisper as you look around, “they could always assume that’s what we are anyways.”

Part of carmy didn’t like how that came off.

“What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” Flies out of Carmy’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying.

That stoops you too, making you press your back against the chair in thought. That wouldn’t be going down in the notes, as you stare at the pen in between your fingers for a moment. Which brings you back to Carmy’s tatted fingers first that touched you in ways that romance novelist craved to write about.

So you may have left that out, how a shared conversation about the “heartless” review of then Chicagoland turned the bear melted into hot and heavy actions in the front seat of your Mazda. It hits you in those same flashes you take of dishes: the unsure sloppy kisses, you taking the lead to get Carmy to just touch you, shaky hands that trace the tattoo from your rib cage down to your hip before soon holding steady and angled just right beneath your red tapered trousers.

“Where did that come from?” You question just as a server greets you, delivering drinks and announcing the small plates should be out in the next five minutes with a timer appearing on both of the stone tablets.

Carmy says, “you—you didn’t just think I forget right?”

“Well I was hoping.” You were honest, “neither of us are ready for relationships—especially hearing about you and Claire.”

Carmy felt his eye twitch, “and how do you know about that?”

Sydney.

You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that although you could tell carmy already knew.

“I have my resources but don’t think I’ve been asking around about you or anything like that.” You sipped at the raspberry mint cocktail, it could be stronger.

His thumbs are shaking first on the table top but his icy stare made your chest pulsate in a way you didn't particularly like, “…would that be so bad?”

You and carmy didn’t exactly know each other well enough besides a conversation once had and with his hand down your pants! and you trying to get him to crash, clothes still on right in the center of his lap—It was a spur of the moment hookup and you could tell it was not something that happened often for carmy. He never had time for it or bothered to get attached but there was something about you that had him thinking otherwise. What was supposed to be a one time thing that you swept to the back of your mind was being brought up again.

The annoyance overtook what that feeling brought in the front seat of your ride. You weren’t ignoring carmy after that but the both of you had a lot on your plate with him renovating a restaurant and you diving back into your own work. Both fields of work seemed to matter more and not once did you think he ever thought about you in that way.

Communication was important people!

And here you thought he wanted nothing to do with you, especially with you showing up to the grand opening of The Bear. Now here you were months later, basically at your benefit, face to face hearing only pieces of what Carmen Berzatto was thinking.

“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice gathers your attention and you both turn to see Sydney smiling at you two.

Carmy widens his eyes, “Syd, what’re you doing here?”

Sydney snorted, “doing the same thing you’re doing? Having dinner.”

“Right.” He lightly shakes his head.

“Oh my god…am I interrupting this um? Date?” Sydney quickly connected the dots eyeing the both of you back and forth while you’re choking on your drink, “you okay?”

She pats your back for you while you gasp and Carmy slides over his water your way although you have your own glass near by. Gaining some air, you swallow some water and breathe through your nose. Normally you would have a response for Sydney’s joke but given what carmy just said to you had your mind running along with some burning tears you wiped away.

“So this is where you’ve been instead of answering me back?” You decide to switch the subject-you were great at that-wheezing a bit while Carmy scoffs and looks away.

Sydney frowns, “huh? When did you call me besides the FaceTime call…” she starts and pulls out her phone, “oh shit sorry. I placed it on do not disturb like thirty minutes after you didn’t call me back. I got wrapped into some entail about the menu from one of the chef’s that works here and is also a friend.”

Carmy speaks, “Didn’t know you had a connect with anybody here, Syd.”

“Can’t reveal all my moves, Carm.” She winks and lightly elbows him while Carmy sends her a small smile and a shake of his head.

Carmy asks, “scooping out our competition?”

“Only a little," She pinches her fingers before continuing, "and my dad thought it would be a place I wanted to try.” Sydney admits, “and if you two weren’t on a date I’d say let’s make this a group thing! so I’ll be going! I see my dad coming back from the bathroom…he’s got like a bladder problem and I don’t know why I’m sharing that with you two. But bye! Enjoy and just know I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”

“Fuck,” carmy exhaled feeling his nerves rising, “don’t do that.”

Sydney chuckles to herself and sends a wave to you two before walking back to her table by the window.

“Siddy kicked me to the curb for her dad,” you sigh resting your cheek into your knuckles for a moment, “can’t be mad at that.”

“But you can be mad at me for what exactly?”

“You wanna do this with me right now?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“I thought we could move past what happened—

“You can say it you know? Me with my fingers inside—

“Excuse me!” You hiss, “I don’t need you to repeat action by action thank you. I was there too. We both know what happened, we’d agreed we can coexist around this big ass city. I show up to support—

“Did you though?” Carmy pressed, “support me? Or am I waiting for something else to be thrown at me with your upcoming review?”

“What?!” You bite, “is that what your stank ass attitude is about?”

Carmy tightened his jaw just as the first serving was handed over. You let him sulk in that for some time as you study the plating of the four appetizers, making note of each before taking more pictures with your sony.

“I wasn’t there to write a review.” You reply.

“I saw you—

“Let me finish. I understand pressure so I get it but you have to learn to channel your anger and this grief, elsewhere and deal with it better without projecting it onto any and everybody. I’ll tell you that right now that won’t get you anywhere and especially with me, Carmen.” You affirm.

You’ve been in Carmy’s position before so you can speak with experience. He seemed to always be waiting for the worse to continue filling up his plate but it takes time to accept the good in life. He was giving you something but you weren’t sure it was the best option for the both of you and you weren’t afraid to say that.

“Alright…I didn’t come here to talk about feelings either you know? That’s what those meetings are for.” Carmy spills just a tad.

You stare at the vibrant but delicate plating but his tone and the soft upbeat tempo above your heads don’t go unnoticed. “What did you come here for then?”

Carmy blinks and snatches up a spoon, almost weighing it in his hands before he dives the utensil into the dish. He stares as the stretch of cheese, twisting the spoon to break it apart before holding the Macaroni and Brie with Crab out for you to take the first bite.

He doesn’t answer for awhile and so you do the honors of taking a bite and savoring it's texture and taste.

“…that’s not my favorite.” You announce and notice that Carmy waited for your view.

He raises his brows, “tell me about it?”

“They need different plating.” You deeply sigh, “I know that type of plating works best for a dessert and that’s not it. There’s more breadcrumbs than meat, which seems to not be fully removed from its shell so be careful with that. It’s also lacking flavor even with the brie, which is my least favorite kind of cheese in Mac, although many swear by it.”

Carmy flicks his attention to your disappointment to you scribbling into your notepad with a shake of your head. If he was making you a dish, he’d try his hardest to make sure it was everything you ever wanted.

He quickly has his share and thinks to himself.

Carmy can agree, this was lacking flavor and the breadcrumbs didn’t even have a crunch to them. You can’t just depend on the cheese to give you flavor in Mac and cheese.

“What’s your favorite dish? I—I don’t think I ever asked you that. We just went straight into talking about the beef.”

And doing dirty things in the front seat but who needs to relive that?!

You look up from your notes and lift your chin, “you’re looking at it. It’s childish I know...but that’s exactly what it reminds me of: my childhood. Mac and cheese! then as I got into my adulthood…crab kinda took over. Which is funny because I hated on it for so long growing up. My papa—my grandad, he helped my mom raise me, he's from Ocean City so you can only imagine the amount of seafood on our table.”

You’re smiling to yourself and Carmy can’t help but to feel his small laughter lines appear by his lips as you’re locked into some memory only you can remember vividly. This was the most Carmy was learning about you, sure it may not look like much but he didn’t feel the need to dissociate even if at times he really couldn’t help it.

You were the question mark that he wanted to figure out and get all the answers to. Maybe it was his gut and he shouldn’t have blabbed to sugar about you because now Carmy was thinking this was Michael’s doing.

If you believe in that shit.

So the both of you take your time trying the small dishes before getting the main courses. It seems the longer you sit across from each other—the tension was definitely still there especially with Sydney’s eyes burning into the two of you across the room and attempting to not get caught—although she had once or twice but gradually it lifted as you and carmy shared this time together.

He watched you work while you asked for his input before you told your own. He also provided a few things he would do to tweak it if he agreed with what you didn’t enjoy. Which was eye-opening for you, yes you went to school for journalism and sat in on some cooking classes once that also tied into your passion for learning. After completing your first degree you decided culinary may take you to different heights and enrolled into culinary school. You didn’t find the need to continue going through with being a chef after Copenhagen, finding writing to be your stronger suit but you still understood food and the relationship with it when it came to chef’s.

So you took carmy’s input into consideration.

With the last serving being a Asian dessert called, “Jjan Hae,” which consisted of: coconut rice pudding served with fresh citrus (orange, grapefruit, kumquat) and coffee ice cream, topped with crispy pop rice & a shot of Korean rice wine, it was a strange concept but the both of you came to terms with the dessert working well.

Carmy even took a video to show Marcus tomorrow at the bear and sent a photo to an old colleague, Luca, that you were also familiar with considering Noma was a thing that you didn’t bother speaking much on…but it was your turn to give carmy the last serving.

He hesitated since he had his own bowl, which he finished way before you did but it was clear you wanted him to have the last bite so he also took it while saying something with his eyes.

Breaking the stare, the both of you felt your phone buzz with a text. Carmy didn’t jump to answer it right away…he was the worst texter according to Nat and Sydney but you can answer for the both of you as it was a group text from Sydney who was long gone with her dad.

Siddy + (773) XXX-XXXX: Carmy, invite aspen to breakfast in the morning?? See you guys then! 👍🏾😉

“You guys do breakfast at the bear now?” You say lifting your eyes from your screen.

You heard Sydney made a mean omelette but you haven’t been back since earlier this year and you weren’t in the mood for that that night.

Carmy frowns and closes his eyes with a shake of his head, “uh yeah it’s a new thing that Syd came up with but we agreed to do that with everyone once a month…later this month. Why?”

“She wants me to have breakfast with you guys…knowing I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s not happening tomorrow anyway, so what is she talking about?” Carmy digs into his jacket, where he carelessly shoved his phone into after sending the photo off to Luca.

Another text rings out: at carmy’s place. just us three???

Not Sydney making plans and then placing it all at Carmy’s apartment.

He’s taking a breath, almost as a silent reminder for him to do so before his thumbs move over his screen: i don’t even eat breakfast, Syd.

Syd: well youre gonna.

~ Syd has notifications silenced 🌙 ~

“Well, looks like your work wife told your ass.” You laugh, which you translated into her message but didn’t comment further than that.

Carmy harshly exhales through his nostrils in disbelief, “my work wife huh?”

He didn’t hate how that sounded but he also never thought about marriage or relationships in awhile.

“Yeah…the proof is in the pudding, no matter what anyone says.”

Carmy pinched at his bottom lip as he attempts to dryly joke, “I thought it was rice? and what about outside work…”

“That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” You shrug, getting ready to pack up your notes and cameras.

You turn your attention to the table, which knows just when to lift as you tap on the screen to signal that you’re ready to pay while holding out your company card, “are you paying cash for the tip or card?”

“Uh, cash.” Carmy answers, “…what if I’m starting to think about what come’s next?”

“With Syd?” You question, your now sage and mint scented hands flying over the screen as you select the correct paying method before tapping your company card against the screen.

Carmy starts bouncing his leg underneath the table, “with everything.”

“Well…when you’re ready you’ll make moves to make it happen won’t you?”

Carmy dips his head, “you bet.”

And here comes the intense eye contact that you can’t help but to huff out some laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just people with light eyes always do this thing where they’re just staring into your soul you know? Like damn, relax!”

Carmy’s confused as he holds his wallet open, “uh sorry for having eyes?”

“Shut up, glacier eyes.” You tell while Carmy just snorts at you.

The both of you don’t waste any time rushing back to his car as the clock is approaching 10pm. The wind’s definitely picked up and the temperature dropped, making it easier not to get caught up in the night time city lights which you often liked to do. Back in the van, carmy doesn’t wait to crank up the heat and you don’t bother to mess with the radio this time.

“So?” Carmy asks as he waits for the car to warm up some.

You keep your attention outside the window shield, “yes?”

“What’s the rating?”

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that, Carmen?” You continue holding yourself.

He sniffs, “I mean—I was sitting across from you the entire night while you told me some of your thoughts.”

“So you thought you should also get the final score? I don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got some idea.” Carmy lolls his head over to peek at you.

Laughter bubbles past your lips, “I do. I’ve absolutely had better because—what the fuck was that?”

Carmen feels a crooked smirk appear on his own face, “I don’t want to completely bash other chef’s work but fuck, I thought it was just me? You said it got a 4.3 out of 5? The ambience and service was spot on but…the flavor for most of the dishes?”

“I knew you knew something about seasoning,” you continued laughing while carmy rolled his eyes, “should spend less on the tech and interior and more on some fresh herbs.”

“Isn’t it called simmer saffron?”

That made you laugh even harder as you gripped your stomach, “You’ve got that so backwards!”

And carmy couldn’t help but to scan your features as you laughed and he felt his chest getting somewhat lighter? Just listening to the sound of you and being beside you. What kind of feeling was this? He’s felt it before looking at someone else but that feeling was more of a tug with that light while this one slowly poured in from the black.

“Don’t be too hard on ‘em though? There’s always room for improvement.”

“Sure, but we both know the bear is better and you guys don’t have a waist list months in advance.”

“We also don’t have any celebrities showing up either.”

“Yet.”

Carmy taps his fingers against the steering wheel, appreciating that, “right, yet…I’m sorry about March. I was too in my head about so much shit and you’re right, I took it out on everyone and I’m still trying to make up for it.”

“Effort doesn’t ever go unnoticed if people look and feel it hard enough.”

Carmy chews on his lips at that, “if you believe that…then why do you feel what I said about dating—uh us—about us dating is out of the blue?”

“I said that?”

“Your eyes did. It’s the most expressive thing about you which is funny to me when you talk so much shit about mine when you hide the rest of it away on your face. It’s fucking confusing but I think I gathered that from our dinner tonight.”

Carmy was just as detail oriented as you. It was in his language with food and maybe even in his tattoos that you tried to understand starting with his fingers first. The way he spoke about what he would do with the dishes that were lackluster, except for the dessert—that was pretty good. Carmy wasn’t much of a talker because he wasn’t sure how to express himself, always been that way since you knew of him at Noma…but he told just enough in his dishes and you told just enough between the lines you wrote.

Someone just had to look hard enough.

“…I ever tell you I was engaged? Of course I didn’t, we’re still…I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here Carmen but I’m starting to sense that we could be special if we both want this badly.”

“What do you want?”

“Does anyone ever really know?” You laughed, “ I guess someone to look past the circumstanial and I had that once but then he died. So that was the end of that.”

“You swore off love.”

“Love is many things but maybe I closed off the long lasting part.”

Carmy could relate to that as least with family. He never had much interest in romance even growing up because he lacked that confidence in anything being permanent besides the chaos he’s used to, then he found some of it once he proved what he fucking set out to do yet cooking was all Carmen really opened himself up to. While Luca and others encouraged him to have a night out in the town, he always left early or if there was one person that caught his interest, they get to talking and both get bored of each other since Carmy hardly made the move to take them back to his. Before Noma?

Maybe.

Back in Paris there was one that could have been permanent but Carmy had to break her heart since Noma was calling. Culinary was his true love and he honestly couldn’t tell you what she even looked like now if you asked him. Things that should have mattered tended to get buried in the blue of his mind unfortunately.

He didn’t have the time to be attached and you didn’t want to have your heart ripped out again.

“How’d—

“He was a firefighter.” Was all you said and just those words alone told carmy it was anything but peaceful.

It took a lot for carmy to scream at himself how Michael went out and he imagined it might have been the same for you. So he wouldn’t dare ask for further morbid details because what did that help?

So maybe you weren’t wrong about the both of you not being ready to take that step on going on dates but change was everlasting.

“Uh—what about breakfast then after that not so great meal?” Carmy asks as he pulls off from the curb now.

You think about it. Really think about it that carmy starts to assume you may have dozed off.

“Depends on the time honestly? And who am I to turn down a free meal?” You beamed at Carmy who lifts his shoulders with a chuckle.

Carmy explains, “Syd and I usually start our days early, sometimes even earlier for me if I don’t get enough hours in. but thanks to the reno those on the early shift can get prep ready and I heard…you’re not a morning person?”

You’re just as sarcastic but there’s no lies, “I don’t even know my name or birthdate when I first wake up…what do you think?”

Carmy snickered at that, “okay? So how does 10am sound?”

“That’s pushing it but…I think I can be there so that’ll give me the rest of the day to work from home.”

Carmy nods, “can’t wait to read it. Shake on it?”

“On what? My review or showing up?”

“Both.”

“I’m not sending you a sneak peek, maybe syd or even nat but not you.”

“Ouch.” Carmy mocks, still waiting for your hand to touch his.

And when you do there’s a spark, that makes you yank your hand back and you feel like you’re in one of those cheesy teen movies.

You’re aware carmy’s felt that too but he just clears his throat and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. Leaving you to lightly massage the palm of your hand, now glancing at the profile of carmy’s face.

Life takes time to live but once you start to just let it be, the green starts to stand out more and can be equally as joyous…once you get through the rain and mud that is.

And once the ice blue sets back on you, the both of you can’t exactly see the future but there’s always warmth waiting for the cold to give them a try.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

February fluff anthology series continues here.

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sunshine-zenith · 6 months ago

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So, um, I guess that awkward dinner between the Wellses and the Fairywinkle-Cosmas is more likely to happen now

Angela and Marcus: so, Peri, what is it you do for work?

Peri, who spent the last three nights sleeping on his parents' couch: well I *starts sobbing into the homemade french fries*

In all seriousness I have so many thoughts about this episode and that scene and these two and Imma use this ask to get them out. Spoilers below

So like, we all saw this coming, right? Dev has never treated Peri all that well and Peri became frustrated with him two seconds in. I sincerely hope Peri stays Dev's godparent because they are such a fun duo with so much potential, but wow they were both screwed over when they got assigned each other. A lot of people have pointed this out, but it really isn't fair that Peri got assigned a hard case for his first godchild. He should've been given someone like Hazel or maybe even like Chester from the original series -- a kid that needs someone for emotional support, of course, but is also arguably well adjusted otherwise. Dec, meanwhile, does not need wish fulfillment -- he's rich, wishing for the "perfect cupcake" won't make him happy when he can just as easily have his robot au-pairs doordash him some cupcakes. He needs a therapist, and to be removed from the harmful situation he's in (IE the neglectful, emotionally stunted, and emotionally abusive father)

Part of why Dev wishing Peri away is so sad is because Peri is actually trying. I don't think he dislikes Dev, even if he's out of his depths dealing with him -- he looks overjoyed and relived when he hugs Dev in the Fairy World episode, and once it becomes clear Dev's birthday was a bust, he offers to do what he can to make it better.

The other reason why its so sad is because Dev can't accept that Peri is trying. He's a miserable child who's never had anyone even try to to teach him emotional regulation. He's understandably hurt and pissed off and probably freaked out when he finds his fathers "secret evil lair," and so he lashes out before anyone can explain things to him. He also probably lashes out because he doesn't know how to handle friendship and support (which Hazel and Peri were offering) and even if he did, they aren't the ones he wants it from, Dale is (they're also safer options for him to lash out at that Dale. Hazel has been kind and forgiving, and Peri is magically bound to try and make Dev happy. He knows on some level that they won't hurt him, and so he knows that they won't hurt him back)

And, well, maybe controversial opinion, but Cosmo and Wanda probably contributed a little to things falling apart slightly. Peri had problems with Dev before he knew his parents were around, but his parents definitely add to his frustration -- they treat him like a little kid, undermine his authority, and probably add to the tension he feels, while also being two people he wants to impress. He spent the beginning of O:BT clearly disengaged with things while Cosmo, Wanda, and Hazel greet Dev, before he whisks them away to show off his new digs. He's such a delightful and relatable take on a young adult who's low contact with their parents while also clearly loving them and wanting to make them proud (He turned off his equivalent of Find My iPhone and was terrified of them finding out about him becoming a godparent, but he also specifically calls godparenting "the family business," choosing it over what would've likely been a more lucrative career with the Tooth Fairy)

(Plus like, Dev constantly being around a set of parents who love their kid while his father is more loving to his boots that his own child has gotta suck)

That said, I don't think Cosmo and Wanda are at fault -- they need to learn boundaries and to come to terms with the fact that their baby isn't a baby anymore, but otherwise, they're loving and supportive. They're more experienced that Peri and could probably give him genuine guidance. They just gotta step back and let Peri do his thing, grow his confidence and learn from his mistakes (which he is making and will continue to make -- he's new, to both godparenting and likely to childcare in general. Plus, even though the show hasn't explored it -- yet -- Peri likely has a unique perspective on godparenting given that he was born to a set of active godparents and raised alongside their human godkid as siblings).

Dev and Peri as a duo are a delight because of how messy they are -- the traumatized iPad kid who's honestly an asshole but an asshole for a reason, and the underprepared and underestimated grown up Baby Of The Family, both of who have family issues that almost clash in how different -- but valid -- those issues are

...Returning to the original point, I wanna see both of them interact with Angela and Marcus, if only to see how they interact with a set of reasonable parents who respect their children as individuals and have largely positive relationships with them

(lastly, really quick, I wanna shout myself out for a moment here for making a comic about the Sad Rich Kid Rival of Cosmo and Wanda's godkid being upset about the whole two fairies vs one fairy thing months before ANW aired. I got the kids in question wrong but I was right in guessing someone would think it was unfair)

#ask #anon #fop #fop a new wish #fairly oddparents #spoilers #rambling under the Read More

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thoughtsforsoob · 5 months ago

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my birthday is coming up! can i please request smut with seonghwa and mingi (bcs its his birthday too! we share the same birthday 🥳)

- 🐰

a/n: happy birthday 🐰 anon !! I hope you have a good one and I hope this piece compensates as a good birthday gift 🩷 I hope your birthday was not too bad (that asshole you told me about sucks. don’t let him ruin your day! stink men don’t deserve the time of day) please enjoy!!

Mingi and seonghwa were never the first people you would think of when you try to think of members with similar interest. They both just kind of went on their own path. For example, Seonghwa loved his LEGO’s and Mingi loved playing video games/watching anime. One thing they could agree on though, was how much they adored you.

You were just a friend to them. You happened to work for them as a staff member for this world tour they were on. You were in charge of getting them from place to place, keeping them in line and helping during shows. They enjoyed your presence so much. The two men were particularly fond of you and would always fight over you. You found their bickering endearing but never took it deeply. Of course you thought they were just joking. Idols never go for staff but this case was very different.

Since the tour had started and you began working with them, they’d been plotting a way to get you into bed with them. Now that the final show was approaching and you’d go back to work with other groups, they needed to put their plan into action. It all started after the last show. The whole staff and the members got together for a nice dinner at a privately reserved restaurant. Of course, the two members took up all your attention the whole time and were practically tripping over their own feet to make you laugh. You just went along with it and gave them the attention they wanted. Besides, you’d grown to enjoy their company. You’d miss them a lot once you were gone. All came to an end after about three hours of talking and eating and drinking. You escorted the boys back to their room that they happened to be sharing together. Before leaving from their front door, they offered to bring you inside to drink some more and hang out. You hesitated because you could get in big trouble but how could you deny them? They’d been so sweet and kind to you that you felt awful saying no.

You went in and had a drink with them. Everything was all fun and giggles when you noticed that they both had their big, dreamy hands on your thighs. You tried not to make a big deal out of it but it was starting to make you feel stuff you didn’t think you should feel about them. At some point, the conversation died down and mingi was the first one to speak up about the situation. “So, y/n. Thank you for keeping us together for this tour. It’s means a lot. There’s just something we’ve been meaning to tell you about.” Seonghwa immediately chimes in, “yeah. This may come as a shock but we’re both really into you. We’ve been fighting over you this whole time but we decided not to fight anymore because we could just give you both our attention.” You’re sitting there…unsure of what to say to them. Mingi started to talk again, “so…before you leave us for good, we wanted to ask you something. Would you be interested in sleeping with us?” You immediately started to blush bright red. “S-sleep with you two? I’d love you but won’t I get in trouble? I don’t wanna get in trouble. I like this job.” You frowned and the boys immediately made you smile again. “Of course not! We’d never get you in trouble. We’re asking you for this. Please? Sleep with us? We promise we’ll show you pleasure you’ve never experienced before.” Seonghwa looked at you with his big, beautiful eyes and you just could deny him. You nodded and they looked so excited.

They started by having you strip out of your clothes and they did the same. They offered to let you shower and the three of you stepped into the very spacious shower. While cleaning up, a lot of deep, passionate kissing ensued. Mingis kisses were slopping and desperate and seonghwas kisses were gentle yet meaningful. Both kisses being very fulfilling and enjoyable. You three were finally clean and were able to get out and dry off. They didn’t even let you put on clothes because they wanted to get right to work. Mingi picked you up and set you on their big bed. They picked the biggest option they could in anticipation for this day (calking for the win). Seonghwa practically pushed mingi out of the way for the space between your legs. He pulled your legs over his broad shoulders and looked up at you. “Is this okay? Can I eat you out? You just look so delectable.” You nodded and he dove right in. Out of jealously, mingi got on the bed and started to kiss you and play with your nipples. These combined sensations made you beak out in moans. They enjoyed listening to your noises. After he was fed up, mingi made seonghwa trade with him to be fair. Mingi eat you out the same we he kissed you, messy and desperate. Saliva and slick were all over his face, making you even more wet at the sight. He didn’t even let you cum, wanting you on his cock before you were allowed to cum.

You started to get restless and that’s when you really began to take some charge. You turned around towards seonghwa, wanting him to go first. “Please? I need you inside. You can be first. Please?” You gave him your best big shiny eyes and he folded, not needing you to beg at all. Mingi moved so that seonghwa could have his way. He ask mingi to grab him a condom and he did. Seonghwa ripped it open with his teeth and slid it on. You whimped while watching him and he smirked, “you liked that, pretty girl? Don’t worry. Im going to take such good care of you right now. If something hurts, you’re gonna tell me. Okay?” You nodded up at him. You three went through picking a safe word and everything was squared away.

Seonghwa started but slowly pushing into your wet entrance. He started to hiss and you were whimpering. “Fuck! You feel so damn good! So good for me. Right?” You nodded and look at him, feeling the pain subside. “Mm please this feels so good. Thank you! Thank you!” Out of instinct you reach up to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He found the action endearing and let you hold onto him. Mingi watched the whole time, fucking his fist and moaning. You turned to look at him and smiled, enjoying watching how he touched himself. Seonghwa took his time with you and when you both were getting close, he warned you. “Fuck, I’m going to cum. Please? You’re gonna cum with me, pretty girl?” You nod, “mhm please let me cum! I’ve been so good!” He pulls you close and you do the same, finally cumming together. When you both finished, you laid down and panted but mingi didn’t give you much of a chance e to recover. You cried out when he jumped on top of you pushed himself inside you. The size difference was very noticeable to you and it made you feel the pain again. “Fuck! I can’t!” You cried and mingi just smirked, loving how you were complaining about his size. He gently caressed your cheek and tried his best to make you feel comfortable. “Does it hurt too much? Poor thing.” You look up at him with tears in your eyes and shake your head, “no please! Keep going. I want it.” You begged him and he continued. He fucked you at a quick pace, leaving your tummy with an ache afterwards. He just went in so deep and so fast. He finished a little quicker than seonghwa, moaning loudly when he finally came, making sure to let you cum also.

When all was said and done, they both laid there with you, taking care of you. Their aftercare combined was the best. They made sure you drank plenty of water and got some snacks in you. You also cleaned you up super gently. They don’t just want to fuck you and have it over with. They never did. They knew you deserved way better than that. “So, you aren’t just going to leave us, are you?” Seonghwa asked with a cute little pout. You shake your head and held onto him. “Nope. Not right now at least. I probably can’t walk always so I’m here for now.” They both laughed along with you and mingi scooted closer to you to snuggle you also. You enjoyed their affection. They were so sweet to you and made sure you were comfortable before falling asleep. You were going to miss them and they were going to miss you also. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to miss them too much because they planned to beg their management to recruit you into their company.

#ateez reactions #ateez seonghwa #ateez mingi #mingi smut #seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez

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thekingofwinterblog · 1 year ago

Text

How to fix Halamshiral as a Zone

Inquisition is a flawed game.

I don't think there's anyone who is going to argue otherwise.

The only question is wheter you place it higher or lower than DA2.

One of the things I think it does better than DA2, is that it managed to give every place a soul, an identity of it's own, and at least a distinct, if not always amazing storyline.

The emerald graves doesnt have a very interesting plot, but it has some spectacular side quests, and atmosphere, inculding a haunted mansion, which might be my favorite possession based quest in all of DA because it shows much better than others just how dangerous untrained mages actually are to those around them.

The storm coast tells a story of what was once an important dwarven port, and shows how it fell and was repurposed over time.

The Hinterlands shows the aftereffects of the templar mage war, as well as solas stupid plan to give cory his orb, and the mage rebellion and an actually decent time travel story.

I could go on, but the point is, I usually have at least aomething nice to say about every single region.

All except one.

Halamshiral.

Halamshiral was the single worst part of all of Dragon Age Inquisition for me, and every single time I boot up this game, it's always the last thing i do before the temple of sacred ashes, despite how bizarre the game flows as a result.

And the reason is because i hate everything about it.

I hate it's unique attempt at side quests, i hate the characters involved, i hate the Orlesians who inhabit it, and i hate how this section tries to copy what worked so amazingly well with Orzammar and Denerim during the landsmeet section, and fails every single shot it lines up.

The ONLY good thing i have to say about this, is that it's at the very least relatively short.

So here's today's question. How to fix Halamshiral?

Let's begin with the three main players.

Celene, Gasparde, and Briala.

The big problem with every single option, is that they all suck.

Celene and Gasparde are both fucking awful people without any redeeming qualities, they have no charisma, and there is no prospect of the Empire reforming itself under either of them, the way Orzammar would under Bhelen.

Meanwhile, Briala is much, much better, but the problem is that we know exactly what is going to happen here if you support her.

Maybe today elves will have it better, but tomorrow, when Gasparde is gone, or celene turns on elves again as she always does all the progress will be repealed, and reversed, along with a few purged alienages.

Its an old story that's been told before in Dragon age.

In short, there is no reason at all to care about this overall plot. None whatsoever.

There were so many reasons to care about both Orzammar and Denerim in the same situation, and every single character involved had so much more charisma than either of these would be monarchs.

So let's fix that.

Starting with Celene, take the idea of her wanting to reform the empire, and actually take it to the next level.

Celene is genuine in wanting to reform the empire, and has already taken grand, successful steps to make the entire thing much better for everyone, even elves, giving them and serfs more rights, outlawing the practice of chevaliers having a tradition of killing unarmed city elves to graduate.

But the catch is, while she is genuinely making progress, she is doing so within the confines of the great game.

Celene has nonintention of changing the great game, no plans of wanting to remove this thing that holds Orlais back more than any other, this center stone of their nobility and it's culture.

Meanwhile, Gasparde is a different kind of reformer, one that takes the ideas he had of him claiming to hate the game, and actually doing something with it.

He is far less progressive, has no love for elves, is far more warlike than Celene ever was... But unlike Celene, his ideas of reform isn't going to act within the grand game.

He's going to break it.

Unlike canon gasparde, this gasparde is hated by every single noble family in the entire empire. His only support, and it's a strong one, is the army. The parts of the army that supports Gasparde, and they are a huge part, are loyal to him personally to the hilt.

And he hates them back. He hates the game, he hates the way it cripples the empire, and he wants to change things. Like Celene he plans to break the serfs free of their chains, for the good of the nation and it's power and economy if not for any progressive reasons.

And he'a going to start with Halamshiral.

For this Gasparde isn't merely positioning men to stage a coup... He's planning to kill EVERY SINGLE NOBLE in Halamshiral. Evety man, every woman, every child there.

He's going to reform this empire by wiping out it's cancerous nobility in one fell swoop, and install himself as supreme dictator to see his reforms through, and wiping out the entire Orlesian nobility that might have opposed him, french revolution style.

And thus the Inquisitor has a dilemma.

Unlike Orzammar, where only one side was a reformer, both of these Orlesians are... But you have to choose one.

Do you choose Celene? The more progressive candidate, who wants a more peaceful Orlais going forward? But who is not willing to get ridd of the grand game to do so, thus making it a permanent risk that all her reforms will be undone...

Or will you support Gasparde, and by doing so be complicit in destroying the entire nobility of Orlais, many of whom are not guilty of the shit that Celene and Gasparde here both hate so much? Gasparde is far less likely to create a peaceful Orlais going forward... But he will have obliterated the Grand Game for good and all, a prize that might be worth this Red Wedding style bloodbath.

Meanwhile there is Briala, the elven spy who has enough influence to allow, or prevent Gasparde's plans from going through.

Here there should be another moral dilemma, quite different from the base game.

Do you convince her to aid Gasparde, in exchange for the Elves getting a duchy of their own in Halamshiral? Do you then back her up with Inquisition forces and support, forcing Him to publicly announce her as such, and trust his own, twisted version of honor to actually stick to it going forward(Something he ultimately does), or do you throw her to the Wolves the moment things get rough?

Or alternatively, do you convince her to side with Celene, and bury the hatchet? And if so, on what terms? And similarly, if she actually wants to get something out of this, you actually need to back her up... Something you may, or may not choose to do.

And voila, here you have an actual story of intrigue, massive, lasting political changes as a result of the Herald's actions, and morally grey on grey choices.

Everything that Denerim and Orzammar had in spades.

Now moving on from the plot to the actual place.

Halamshiral has no soul.

It's a french villa on a mountaintop. Whoop de freaking do.

It has no interesting murals, unique art only found there, interesting geography, or anything really to make it stand out.

Compare it to Denerim and Orzammar, and the way they fleshed out the entire city's levels of power and criminal underworlds, and you see the difference.

Denerim is a very realistic, squat, squalid medieval city, with it's buildings built on top of every single bit of available space.

Orzammar is a full on high fantasy dwarf city lit up by a lake of lava.

Halamshiral is a villa presented as a city.

How do you fix that?

There is an artist here on Tumblr who pretty much showcased what Halamshiral could have been, if they had taken the idea of the Dalish(who were the original owners) taking inspiration from native americans(amongst others), and use that to build a truly spectacular city, which has long ago been paved over, but the structure is still there.

Make it a city on the water, like the aztex capital of Tenochtitlan, a marvel of canals and stone.

Make it this Venezia like city, with canals everywhere you look, and the entire city running on water. A marvel of Dalish city building, where they took something as simple as a couple of islands in a lake, and built the most beautiful city in the world.

And rather than just limit you to the palace, instead let you actually explore this city.

Expand the entire event from one night, to a week.

Let the Herald explore the city, meet the players, interact with the nobles, become friends with a few like you could with Ferelden's bans, which in turn makes the possibility of sacrificing them for the greater good hit so much harder.

Let you choose what fancy stuff to wear to the balls and meetings, rather than have this stupid motto of forcing you to wear one, pre determined outfit like this game had for some reason.

Let you discover the places where what little Elven Architecture and art still remains can be found, and talk with the elves who still live here, the descendants after the first elves the Orlesians enslaved.

Make the plotting of Gasparde and the positioning of troops be gradual, not instantly discovered and twarted.

And at the end, if you choose to back Gasparde, you mirror that scene from Dragon Age 2, where the Templars sail across the bay, and you either step aside and witness the bloodbath you just allowed to happen, or you fight them and be recognized by the nobility(most of which are horrible, horrible people) as a hero who just saved the day.

Have the venatori plot be to kill both Gasparde and Celene, rather than their involvement mostly be about handing the player the the easy knife for the knot of which monarch to pick without having to get your hands dirty.

Also have the entire group be gathered for once. Every inner member of the Inquisition just like at Denerim.

Each of whom have their own thoughts on the events.

Who supports who? What is the right thing to do? What is better for the inquisition? Are you staining your honor beyond repair if you back Gasparde? Does the Inquisitor maybe have a breakdown after witnessing what they just allowed to happen and they walk through the gardens or rooms filled with corpses? Maybe have the scene at the end with the love interest be about a moment of them truly comforting their lover in the aftermath of it all, understanding(or not) that as boss, it's your job to have to make the tough decisions. And now you have to live with them.

Or if you wanna go the other way, this could be one of the breaking points like Origins had. If you support Gasparde, Blackwall choses to tell you to get bent, and that he will die as benefits a knight. Defending the week, and calling you out on how you are just as bad as he ever was, a child killer who's going to run away from responsibility, to pretend you are some better person than what you actually are. You're a murder. Just like he was. You are just as responsible for the blood that's flowing as he was with that carriage back in the day.

It would have been a far more impressive reveal moment for his crimes, that's for sure.

Cole probably would be the one who would be second most upset, but wheter he leaves or ultimately stays should probably be depended on your other choices and your relationship with him prior to this, probably have his personal quest be the determinating factor of what he chooses to do.

And i could go on, but point is, this would be a return to Origins choices actually mattering. There were choices that could make or break a characters bond with you. Shale would not budge regarding Caridin, Leliana and wynne would stand against you if you choose to defile the urn, Sevran would choose to betray you for his old friend if he didn't like you enough, and of course the age old choices at the end of act 3 in da2, where you have to pick between templars and Mages, as well as anders fate, and chances are regardless of what you do, at least 1 person ends up dead.

If anyone reading this has any suggestions for how to further improve this storyline, feel free to share, but regardless, i think we can all agree that this is a vast improvement of what we actually got.

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #halamshiral #gasparde #celene #briala #inquisitor #blackwall #thom rainier #the herald of andraste #the inquisitor #meta #what could have been #tenochtitlan

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cleolinda · 1 year ago

Text

(For our purposes, listen to it without the visuals first.)

I wasn't going to keep posting about Unreal Unearth, but something happened yesterday.

It's been five months since I first heard this song, and I'm still astonished by it. You know the tiktok skit about the Star Wars wedding music, and the guy is grooving along until the Imperial Death March filters in, and then he's kind of alarmed, like, wha—? And then he realizes it slaps anyway and he keeps dancing? That is "Eat Your Young."

It's the morning of March 17th. The EP with the first three singles from the new album has dropped. I've got my phone blasting the song on the bathroom counter, I don't understand half what the man is saying nor did I expect to, I'm cheerfully mumbling along in the shower, grooving along,

wait they did what for a war drum

Get some Pull up the ladder when the flood comes Throw enough rope until the legs have swung Seven new ways that you can eat your young Come and get some Skinning the children for a war drum Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

What the fuck, this song goes so hard. That's the chorus. The conceit of the whole album is that it loosely follows Dante's Inferno, so this is the third circle of hell, gluttony. Hozier himself says that he wasn't specifically thinking of Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal—

“I don’t know how intentional the reference to Jonathan Swift was in this. That essay [Swift’s 1729 satirical essay A Modest Proposal in which he suggests the Irish poor sell their children as food] is such a cultural landmark that it’s just hanging in the air. I was more reflecting on what I felt now in this spirit of the times of perpetual short-term gain and a long-term blindness. The increasing levels of precarious living, poverty, job insecurity, rental crisis, property crisis, climate crisis, and a generation that’s inheriting all of that and one generation that’s enjoyed the spoils of it. The lyrics are direct, but the voice is playful. There’s this unreliable narrator who relishes in this thing which was fun to write.” [Apple Music album notes]

—and I believe him. The song's not a suggestion, a proposal; it's an invitation to atrocity in progress. I also believe he probably wasn't thinking of Greta Thunberg's iconic speech at the UN Climate Action Summit, not specifically, but that's what I hear in the song, like the flip side of a coin:

You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words. And yet I'm one of the lucky ones. People are suffering. People are dying. Entire ecosystems are collapsing. We are in the beginning of a mass extinction, and all you can talk about is money and fairy tales of eternal economic growth. How dare you! [...] You say you hear us and that you understand the urgency. But no matter how sad and angry I am, I do not want to believe that. Because if you really understood the situation and still kept on failing to act, then you would be evil.

I feel like on some level, even coincidentally, "Eat Your Young" is the answer to the question, what would you sound like if you were that evil? Who would you be? I can think of a dozen possibilities just off the top of my head or looking around my blog, from something as petty as studio executives mangling trees to deprive striking workers of shade (while hoping they lose their homes), all the way up to the US school-to-prison pipeline. The National Rifle Association keeps politicians in its pocket while the US has more mass shootings than days in a year, Nestlé fucks shit up around the world as a way of life, even ChatGPT sucks up water while threatening jobs—and for what? And yet, I promise you most of these things weren't the inspiration for an Irishman’s song—some of them hadn't even happened yet. There's just that much fresh You Would Be Evil to go around. I am certain that Hozier wrote the song partly about (as one article puts it) "Ireland's housing crisis: Millennials, a generation sacrificed," given that time back in the day when he helped occupy a building—a housing crisis happening in multiple countries. There's so much of the world I'm not touching on. I can stuff a paragraph with links and it's utterly inadequate.

I haven't even mentioned war.

There's an overwhelming sense this decade of the future being fed into a meat grinder. That sense is in this song. What would it sound like to be in the head of someone who didn't give a shit about anything but profit? Well, it might sound like this.

And if you haven't heard it, well—I'm going to sound absolutely out of my mind after saying all that, but "Eat Your Young" has a beat and you can dance to it. It's sexy. And I'm certain that's on purpose. You get seduced into the sound of it, as if by something demonic, something that enjoys sucking down the future and is not going to stop. And the sheer fucking catchiness of the song keeps you listening to it—thinking about it—when maybe you push away the dry headlines we get everyday. If you let this song stay in your head, it becomes a lens. Five months later, I still think about it when I read the news. Maui was on fire and tourists stayed. Within days, the prospect of developers swooping in to buy up land reared its head. If there's something still to take, there is ground to break, whatever's still to come. Get some.

I was born in 1978 —I'm late Gen X. In my forties, I'm young enough to worry about the future still; I’m neither so rich that I can just plan to retire to Mars, nor so old that I can know I'll be safely gone before the world might go up in flames. But I'm also not my nephew, whose school year just started back up, or the neighborhood kids who race him home down the sidewalk in the afternoons. Yesterday, he had his very first mass-shooter lockdown drill. He’s six.

I think music can put the feeling back into numb fingers, and I think that's why "Eat Your Young" works so well—Hozier calls the song fun and playful, and I think you have to have that, something you can live with rather than just switch off for your own mental survival. We need music to feed spirit at protests; we need something to keep our feet moving. Don’t give up, don't close your eyes and slip away. Those kids, they have dreams we could try to steal back for them.

Since I mentioned Maui:

Why Hawaiian sovereignty has undeniable context for the Maui fires

The Climate Crisis and Colonialism Destroyed My Maui Home. Where We Must Go From Here

How You Can Donate and Help Support Maui Communities Right Now

The Maui Strong Fund

#music #music discussion #hozier #long post #eat your young #Spotify

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tojixz · 2 years ago

Text

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Reader

Notes: I am definitely horrible at English, forgive me for any mistakes or if I seem too formal.

Anyway, this is not only my first post, but my first fanfic!

So, yeah, it might suck… BUT I really wanted to try something, especially of my favorite movie since its first release 💞

Well, enjoy! And again, sorry if it's bad

Summary: The reader is in Neytiri's shoes (that hurts me) and is currently pregnant with Tuk, and with pregnancy comes its stages. Just Jake and his family looking out for Mommy!

Warnings: Vomiting, pregnancy problems, fluffy!! I don't know how to mark.

Word Count: 1,6k

Tìyawn (n) - Love 'Itan (n) - Son

Part two | Part three

"Dad."

"Daddy, wake up!"

With a muffled sigh, Jake reluctantly opens his eyes. His eyes burn from the lack of hours of sleep and his fatigue. He waits for his eyes to adjust their focus on a little blue face just above him.

"What happened?", Jake props himself up on his elbow as he looks around alarmed trying to find any sign of danger.

"It's Mom, she rushed out of our tent. She doesn't look well at all, and well, we didn't know what to do", Neteyam said with a worried look on his face, watching his father sit up and reason through the situation. It was still early in the morning and he really hadn't been able to sleep properly the last few days because of his responsibilities as Olo'eyktan and, well, as a father of three children.

Lo'ak and Kiri were also awake, equally worried waiting for some response coming from their father.

"Okay, fine. Thanks for letting me know. Where is she now?", Jake asked looking at his children as he stood up.

"Outside by the trees."

"Okay, go back to sleep, I will take care of your mother", Jake's voice contained concern, but he did his best to mask it and not worry his children further.

Kiri looked at her father in disbelief, stepping in front of him and stopping his passage, "Let's not go to sleep knowing something is wrong with Mom! Daddy, I want to help."

"It's okay babygirl, I'll take care of it. Then go back to bed now, I don't want to see anyone sleepy when they wake up!"

"But Dad-"

"That's all", Jake narrowed his eyes at the three of them and nodded his head towards the bed, Then he turned and hurried away to come to you.

You definitely weren't feeling well. You were experiencing frequent vomiting and dizziness, and you also felt weaker and more tired. Despite this, you were used to it from your other times of pregnancy.

Anyway, today was not an abnormal day. You woke up sweating along with a sour feeling in your throat. You immediately ran to the middle of the trees to get whatever was in your stomach out, taking as much care as possible not to wake any of your children and even your husband who deserved to rest, even more so with the stress he had been under in the last weeks because of problems in the clan.

The early morning air relieved the intense heat you felt throughout your body. You breathed for a few seconds and then finally got rid of the horrible feeling that persisted in settling in your throat.

As you recovered from the episode, you paid no attention to the cautious footsteps behind you and jumped when you felt large hands on your neck caressing them. Your ear crunched against your skull as your head turned full back to detect the intruder.

"Hey, hey, calm down, it's me, Jake", he said stopping in front of you and showing that he wasn't some kind of predator or anything.

"Ah, damn it Jake! Don't sneak up on people like that!", you hissed at him as you slapped his arm.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry", Jake put his hands on your head caressing you as he said, "So, is everything okay? Why didn't you wake me up to help you?"

You looked away from Jake's face ashamed of the state you were in. There was no reason to be embarrassed, this was common and it's not like this was your first time, you knew that. But you still felt uncomfortable waking Jake who was sleeping so peacefully, "It's just…. I could handle it on my own, there was no reason to bother you."

Jake sighed, turning you towards him as he placed his hands on your neck lightly brushing your cheeks, "Honey, no matter what the situation, you will never be a bother to me. Even more so when it involves you and my baby", Jake concluded by placing a kiss on your nose and pressing your foreheads together.

Her heart filled with love. You don't know how much good you did in life to have a family as beautiful as yours. Jake and your children were the greatest blessing the Great Mother could give you.

You smiled, resting your hands on Jake's arm. You just enjoyed that moment with him for a few seconds, and then said, "I love you, Ma'Jake."

Jake wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, savoring the warmth and presence of his mate, the one who gave him the most beautiful family in existence, one he could never have imagined having. The one who blessed her mornings and made her heart melt when she heard her groggy voice when she woke up. "I love you too, tiyawn. But you really need to call me when you're not feeling well."

You let out a small laugh at your husband's concern and just murmured, "Okay, I count on your protection."

You both stood there for a few minutes, just feeling each other's presence and exchanging caresses while listening to the various noises coming from the forest.

"We should head back now, I'm better", you said pulling away from Jake, taking his hand and starting to pull him back to their shared tent.

"Wait, wait", Jake stopped his steps, approaching you again as he placed one of his hands on your stomach, lightly rubbing the small bulge that stood out on your belly, "Is the baby okay?"

You looked at Jake in surprise at the sudden question. Placing your hand over Jake's hand, you let out a minimally loud laugh, "He's fine Jake Sully. The baby is healthy. Now come on", you took his hand and walked back to the tent once more. "We have other babies to take care of."

Jake let out a playful snort as he followed his majestic companion back home.

As soon as you entered the hut, you were able to hear murmurs coming from the heap of little bodies in the hammock. You assumed that your little ones were just having dreams, but then your thoughts were interrupted by Jake's scolding voice.

"What did I say about going back to sleep?", Jake crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for a response from the mountain of children in the hammock in their terrible pretense at being asleep.

"We are sleeping", Lo'ak lifted his head to answer his father, quickly pulling his eye away from Jake to look at you, who stood beside him.

Jake pinched the middle of his nose in annoyance letting out a sigh in the process, "Silly child, sleeping people don't talk!"

"It's Lo'ak, you skxawng!!", Kiri slapped his brother on the head who promptly let out a 'Hey!' for the aggression. Neteyam completely ignored the idiot fights of his brothers and ran into her arms.

"Mom! Are you okay? What happened?"

You stooped down to little Neteyam's level and planted your hands on his cheeks, cracking a wide smile at the sight of your son, "I'm fine, 'itan. How long have you been awake?"

Lo'ak and Kiri soon joined in the hug, snuggling into his neck in the process. Her heart filled with affection for her children, becoming almost unbearable. Jake was standing off to the side watching everything, almost envying his companion's attention to his children.

"I heard you get up and leave, I was afraid of what might have happened, so I called Daddy", Lo'ak sniffled softly, squeezing you even tighter.

You smiled as you collectively hugged your children, stroking their heads and soothing them. "Oh my baby, I'm fine, see? It was just… a mishap."

"Yes, so we need to let your mother sleep to regain her energy", Jake intruded into the conversation pulling you out from among the children and carrying you to bed.

You looked at him with an unreadable face, allowing yourself to be snuggled into Jake's chest as strong arms encircled your waist.

"Jake!", you tried to pull away, but as expected, was unsuccessful; so your only option was to lie down in defeat feeling a hand from Jake snake into your stomach and lightly caress the bulge.

"Neteyam, Lo'ak, Kiri, come to sleep. You must be tired after Mommy disturbed your sleep", you held out your arm for the children to snuggle in your protection.

There wasn't even time to think about the proposition, the children soon went into their parents' arms, getting as close as possible to each other.

Jake protected his belly from the children's jerky movements as he alarmed his children, "Hey, watch your mother's belly!"

"Ma'Jake, it's okay, they're just babies", you said stroking your companion's arm with a wide smile opening on your lips. Jake sighed defeatedly, nuzzling his head into the curve of your neck and inhaling your scent. He was truly lucky for the woman he had.

Her heart overflowed with affection. It was an unimaginable love that you felt for your family. A family you built with the one you love, a partner you trust. You couldn't have asked anything more from Eywa, not after she blessed you with the most sacred family in your existence.

Your eyes filled lightly with tears; pure tears of care and love, for your children, for your Jake, for your life.

"Good night, my little ones", you said in a whisper, realizing that the children were no longer able to keep their eyes open. They even looked as if they were waiting for a confirmation of your love for them.

Jake let out an anasalated laugh, also closing his eyes as fatigue consumed him and sleep called him into the dream world again. As a last prayer, Jake said in an almost inaudible whisper, only for nearby hearts to hear:

"I love you all. You are my greatest fortress."

I'm sorry if it seemed rushed at the end, I was anxious to finish and may have gone too fast 😭

I hope it was a good read! I kind of liked it for my first story; but I hope to improve in the future.

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍓｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍒

#avatar #jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #loak sully #kiri sully #atwow #atwow fluff #atwow x reader #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar 1 #avatar 2 #avatar jake sully #avatar twow

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hiskillingjar · 10 months ago

Note

Heeey if ur down maybe

Strade x reader...but it's like a hitch hiker situation it's like 3 am and he picks them up off the side of the road yadda yadda their phone is dead maybe some awkward small talk (I can imagine th asking if he wants to play I spy or something)

Anyway I'm getting off track we all know hitch hiking is dangerous we've all heard horror stories of girls hitch hiking and then she's found in a ditch chopped into a billion pieces we all know this so does reader...so they keep asking if he's gonna kill them every five minutes...they're weirdly into it too

Sorry it's so long and just rambling I got off track I just really love strade

haughhhh this prompt haunted me and i just had to fill it. not totally what you asked for but. like. same vibe ya know?

3200+ words, cw for like. the lead up to actual noncon, i love strade most when he's evil and sexy and condescending sorryyyyyy. also crossposted on ao3 because i like having my longer fics there

"Hey, buddy, climb in!"

When the large, black SUV slid to a stop beside the road’s dirt path, you could have cheered.

You had been walking for what felt like hours after getting off the bus at its last stop, your thumb raised high beside you in hopes of someone pitying you and stopping to pick you up. Had this stranger not stopped, you might have considered calling it quits and sitting in the cold to wait it out until morning rather than exhausting yourself with the walk.

Thank god you didn’t have to worry about that.

"Hey! Thanks for pulling over!" You beamed brightly and politely, as you climbed into the front of the stranger's truck, running a hand through your messy hair and dusting your boots off before you got comfortable in the expensive-looking car. "I really appreciate it, man, I've been standing there for, like, an hour now."

His own smile widened, dimpling handsome smile lines and crinkling his golden eyes. You had no idea what a guy like this was doing travelling on the highway at three in the morning, but you were sure that he would say the same about you, so didn’t think much about your wondering.

"Oh no, that sucks.” He said with a sympathetic click of his tongue. “Here, let me help you with that, you must be exhausted after such a tough night."

The friendly attitude remained as he reached out for your backpack, showing off muscular (albeit slightly scarred) arms and tan skin. You smiled appreciatively, all the same, as he took your backpack and tossed it into the back seat of the truck, before starting the engine back up with a twist of the keys in the ignition.

"Yeah, uh, I accidentally rode the bus to the end of the line and...yeah, the last stop was a little over two miles away?" You said, buckling your seatbelt as he pulled off the dirt path and continued down the road. "It's a total ghost town there, and I have no charge on my phone either. I really thought I'd be walking all night."

His smile shifted into a more sympathetic expression before it went to the road ahead of him.

"Ah, I feel you on the phone thing, it really sucks when your battery decides to die on you when you need it most.” He replied, both hands on the wheel, as he let the speed of the truck climb back up to the naturally higher speed of a highway drive. “No charge, huh? What a shame."

You nodded, unsure of what else to say.

"So, what's in the backpack?” He asked after barely a beat, and you got a sense that he wasn’t one to stay in silence for long. You didn’t mind the opportunity for small talk though, not really, even if it was late at night and…you mostly just wanted to get some rest. “You a tourist, or..."

"Yeah, kind of a tourist." You nodded with a little smile. "Um, I'm trying to get to Toronto, actually. I know that's pretty far, so no pressure to get me there,” You chuckled awkwardly. “But I think there's a bus station nearby, a few towns over? I was just gonna stay there tonight and get another ticket in the morning."

He nodded along as you spoke, an attentive audience member, like he was listening to you in place of late-night talk radio or music.

"Oh, so you've got quite the journey ahead, huh?" He peered towards you out of the corner of his eye when you nodded in response to his question.

"Mmhmm, it’s still another day or so of travel,” You said with a shrug and a little nod. “So, um, I didn't get your name?"

"Ah, right, yeah, I forgot to tell you."

He took his eyes off the road for a moment to smile at you.

"Name's Strade,” No last name. Makes sense, you probably wouldn’t have told him your last name, either. “And you are...?"

You smiled back and told him your name.

"And, um,” You tittered a little coyly. “You know, I’m just trying to make small talk here, but I'm noticing a bit of an accent there...not Canadian, huh?"

He laughed, a friendly and warm chuckle that put you at ease, despite your less-than-ideal situation.

"Haha, you're good.” He said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Yeah, not Canadian. German, actually. I’ve been living here for, ah…” He sucked a hiss in through his teeth and tilted his head in thought. “A while. Just never managed to shake the accent, I guess."

"No, that's super cool. I’ve always thought Germany was an interesting place" You nodded with a bit more of a smile. "I've never been there, or anywhere in Europe or anything, but I've always wanted to."

"Oh yeah?” He hummed thoughtfully, still smiling. “You should definitely visit, it's great...I mean, yeah..." He peered out his window as he turned onto a new road, though you hadn’t seen where the illuminated sign was leading him. "The people...the cities...you know…” He continued, his words trailing off and his tone sounding distracted as he drove. “Germany's great...beautiful country...definitely worth the visit."

"Mm," You nodded. "Sounds nice."

After another long moment of silence (with you staring out the window, not seeing much other than fields and woods, and him focusing on driving and looking more and more put off by the quiet), he cleared his throat and reached up with one hand to rub his stubbly (and scarred) chin.

"Listen…not to be intrusive or anything, I'm just trying to make some small talk,” He placed his hand back on the wheel, though he was still smiling. “But what's a pretty girl like you doing all by themselves, anyway? What, not got a boyfriend to travel with you?"

You let out an uncomfortable laugh, a slight flush coming to your cheeks as you tried to think of an appropriate (and smart) response.

You knew you should have been...put off, to say the least, by a stranger asking why you were alone in the middle of the night, but...well, he had picked you up in the middle of nowhere, and you kind of owed him for that. Maybe he was just a curious guy.

And…he was pretty hot. Maybe he was just asking so he could make a pass at you.

"Hah, nope, all on my lonesome. But, um," You bit your lip, considering your next words very carefully. If you said something about…meeting people, perhaps, maybe it would have been enough to scare off any darker intentions he might have had with you. "I have friends in the city that I'll be staying with who know I’m coming. So, just need to get there, ya know."

He nodded again, smiling as casually as he had been.

"I see.” He said simply. “So, you must be pretty brave then, huh? Not many girls your age would feel safe travelling and staying in a bus station all alone without any protection, especially not these days."

An idle smirk crossed his lips as he kept his eyes forward, tapping the steering wheel with the pale palms of his hands.

"Lots of weirdos on these roads late at night, ya know?” His golden eyes went to yours then, and you could see they had narrowed just a touch, his eyebrows quirking with a silent challenge, or...threat. “Good thing I found you first, hm?"

"Mmhmm..." You nodded politely, letting out another uncomfortable chuckle.

"Mhm…” He mimicked. “But, maybe we should change topics, ja? Let's talk about something...a bit more interesting~"

"Interesting?" You looked up at him with a curious blink, watching as he turned the truck again and started down a darker road, surrounded by woods. You still didn’t have a reason to be concerned though…at least, that’s what you were telling yourself. "How do you mean?"

"Oh, you know...a little more personal." He suggested with a shrug of his shoulders, like he was trying to appear more casual. "How old are you?"

"Oh, I'm twenty," You replied, raising a brow. "Yeah, second year of college, actually. I'm on spring break."

"Really?" He said, raising his own brows with pseudo-surprise. "Wow, I'm almost double that....way to make me feel like a creepy old man picking up a vulnerable girl on the side of the road, hah."

"Hah," You chuckled awkwardly, a slight flush coming to your face as you chewed the inside of your cheek. You’d read countless horror stories about this situation, and yet, when you were sitting in it, you still couldn’t help but be a little charmed by him and his self-deprecation. "Y-Yeah, sorry...um, I don't think you're creepy, though. I actually really appreciate it. I would have been stuck there all night, if you hadn't picked me up." You smiled. “Thank you.”

"Aw, how sweet," He crooned, taking one hand from the steering wheel and placing it on your bare thigh, making your breath hitch tightly. Denim shorts had been a fine choice when you dressed that morning, but a far stupider one at three in the morning, it seemed. "You really are very gracious, aren't you?"

"Mm..." You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as his hand roamed further up your thigh, calloused skin against smooth, goose-pimpled flesh.

"But, ah, graciousness can only get you so far in this world, right?" He said after a beat of silence, his voice taking on a lower tone as he looked towards you, pulling the truck to the side of the road and…slowing it to a stop.

"Huh?"

You didn't expect (though maybe you should have, considering all the hints he had been dropping) for him to stop the car, and you suddenly felt a lot more scared to be in a strange truck, in a strange country, with a strange man.

"If you're too grateful,” He murmurs, taking the keys out of the ignition. “Some people can take advantage. And why wouldn't they."

Your polite (albeit tight) smile dropped and you swallowed tightly, as you saw him pocket his keys and turn to you, those golden eyes that had once been so inviting narrowed and sinister, as the hand on your thigh crawled further and further up.

"It's late at night, we're all alone, you’re in some…stranger’s truck,” He cut himself off with a chuckle and a shake of his head, like he was chiding you. “And who knows what someone could do to you."

Now that the car was stopped, he was able to lean in a little closer to you, the hand on your thigh ascending to your hip.

“Helpless, right?”

"Ah..."

You let out a little whimper, swallowing tightly as he pressed himself even closer towards you, sliding a knee under himself so he could push himself forward, over the wide console of the truck.

You were so stupid.

Your pocket knife, your only means of protection while you were on the road, was in your backpack, of all places, which was in his back seat…where he had thrown it. Somehow, though, you had a sense that even if you did have a weapon of some kind, some sort of defence against him, it probably wouldn't have done anything to stop him, anyway.

The predatory glint that had always been in his eyes, looking back on the encounter retroactively, became a whole lot less concealed, as he reached up and idly pushed a thick chunk of your hair behind your ear, almost like he was admiring you innocently. His mouth tilted into a mocking smile and his tone became lower and even more lecherous.

"Twenty,” He said, like he was reminiscing. “Just twenty years old and doing this all by yourself. So young...and so pretty too.” He leaned a little closer, so close you could smell the thick scent of motor oil and sweat lingering on him. “It would be a shame if something happened to a girl like you..."

He let out a small chuckle, keeping his gaze locked on yours as his hand shifted from your hip and down to his side.

Your eyes followed it almost instantly. You didn't know what he was doing, but you knew that it couldn’t be good.

Strade noticed your gaze too, raising his brows and giving you a smile that he had practised so many times before, one that was supposed to settle a nervous spirit, a fretting hostage. He shifted his hand to the side, making it seem as if he was just casually adjusting himself, when, in fact, he was hiding something else, something much darker and more sinister altogether.

"Were you not scared...of a stranger like me, picking you up in the middle of the night?" He tilted his head, considering you closely like you were a new specimen for examination.

“Strade,” You mumbled softly, your eyes flitting to the side to try and spot your backpack. “Come on…let’s not do this.”

"Now, now...don't be so frightened.” He said, with almost the start of a hurt pout to his lips. Why was that enough to make you feel bad? “I don't mean you any harm at all, but you still haven't answered my question..."

He pressed even closer, his fingers suddenly trailing down your neck as his stubbly cheek grazed yours.

“Were you not scared?”

"I...didn't think I needed to be scared," You mumbled quietly, taking in a slow breath and feeling like your skin was prickling with nerves each time he pressed close to you.

"Why's that, hmm...don't you think it's dangerous to be alone at night?"

His staring eyes met yours, spanning up and down your face, like he was trying to take in every detail of you, each freckle, wrinkle and pore, before…

"Don't you think it's dangerous...to be alone...with...me..."

"NGH!"

You let out a shrill grunt as he quickly pressed his body entirely against yours, climbing over the console of the truck and pinning you down to the seat. You attempted to quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the car door on the passenger side, gripping fingers scrambling for the handle as you heaved with his added weight on top of you.

"Oh no no no…” He chided lightly, sitting back as he straddled your hips and reached down in his jacket pocket. "Don't think you're getting away from me now, fraulein, not when I’ve just gotten you where I want you."

Your eyes widened when you saw him pull out a long bowie knife, hidden in plain sight, all this time. It wasn't even in a sheath to protect it.

"Please," You pleaded quietly, as he slid the knife up your front and severed the seat belt like hot metal through butter. "Please, Strade, please, let me go. I-I have friends, I'm going somewhere, you know that, they'll know I'm gone, they’ll know." You babbled erratically, every part of you trembling.

Strade just laughed, using the cut seatbelt as a makeshift rope to tie your trembling wrists to the car seat headrest above you (you had sunk down enough in the seat to get away from him that it was high up now).

You didn’t even try to fight him off that hard.

"Aww...you're still so hopeful, aren't you?"

His grin broadened, laced with malice as he watched the terror build in your eyes indulgently, like your fear was enough to sustain him.

"Do you actually think someone's going to come and save you...little college girl on her spring break, hm?” He asked, shaking his head further with a condescending little chuckle, before leaning in, his breathing heavy and ragged and excited. “No, I don’t think I’m going to let you go, fraulein…not when I have you right where I want you.”

"Please," You whimpered, your lip trembling as the first sting of tears began to bead in your eyes. "Don't kill me, please..."

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you. Don't worry."

You took in a shaky gasp as he raised the knife to your throat, immediately stilling when you felt the sharp edge of polished metal dig into your skin.

"I'm just going to have a bit of fun with you, that's all. That’s why you let me pick you up, isn’t it?" He pressed the knife down a little harder against your throat, leaning in even closer, thee bridge of his nose nestling against your jaw as you felt the sting of the blade. "You wanted someone to have fun with you, just like this..."

"Please don't hurt me...I-I'll do whatever you want," You murmured, tears spilling down your cheeks, trying not to move or struggle or shake too much and…encourage the knife to slip. “Please, please, please…”

"Aw, are you begging?" Strade’s grin widened even more, as he laughed at you, cruelly, meanly. “You really just get cuter and cuter the more you speak. I almost can’t stand it.”

You whimpered again as he raised his head to look at you, his face close enough to yours that he could have kissed you (if he wanted to), his tongue slipping out and licking his lips, and his breath heavy on your neck as his laugh trailed off into a low chuckle.

"Maybe I want to keep pretty things like you around...take my time with you, perhaps?” He mused softly, dragging the knife to a point and pressing it to the bottom of your chin. “Or maybe…I just want to do something with that pretty mouth of yours, hm?"

You gulped and squeezed your eyes shut, revolted by what you were about to say.

"Yes," You whispered, trembling a little more and pulling at the seatbelt that was binding you. "Do…a-anything you want to me. Just...please, please don't hurt me..."

He pulled back from you for a moment, raising his dark brows in a questioning look…like he was wondering if you were being truthful with him.

"Hmph. I know your type, you know. You'd say anything right now."

His expression shifted to one of mocking disappointment as he sighed, the knife moving slightly downwards and pressing into the hollow of your bobbing throat, as he studied your face.

"Do you really mean that? Or are you just trying to survive, eh?"

"I-I mean it," You stammered, pulling at the seatbelt again and swallowing hard, trying to sit up straight. "Anything. I'll...I'll even like it, too. I won't fight or scream or..." You sniffled, trying to shed the last of your tears. "Or cry."

"Really?” He gave you a doubtful smirk as he slid the knife downwards, easily cutting through the buttoned collar of your shirt. “You don't even know me, and you'd let me do whatever I want? With that pretty…” He enunciated each word by cutting away the buttons of your shirt, exposing more of your chest, your sternum, and your stomach. “Little,” Another button gone. “Mouth." Another.

“Yes. Anything.”

Once your shirt was completely open (showing your ratty sports bra), he lightly pressed the point of the knife against your breast, like it was about to be punctured.

"And you'll like it?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Yes," You sniffled again. "Just...don't hurt me."

"You promise~?”

He lilted airily in your ear as the knife trailed over to the band between your bra cups, severing it without a modicum of effort and revealing even more of your chest as he peeled away each flap of fabric with the point of his knife.

You bit your lip when he let out an appreciative whistle at the sight of your bare chest, the buds of your nipples erect and perky in the cool air of the night, the silver piercings glinting in the dark.

"Nice tits," He commented with a snicker. "I'm surprised someone else didn't pick you up first with a rack like that." His lecherous dirty talk was enough to make you blush and look away. "Maybe you should have been a little more...open with them, hm?" "Strade-"

“Mm, no apprehension, please.” He chided, poking one of the piercings with the point of the knife and bringing his face close to yours. “We’re going to have fun, and you’re going to smile and say ‘thank you’ the entire time...no looking away or playing shy, now.” He pressed the point of the knife to the bud of your nipple then, his golden eyes locked on yours as it dug deeper and deeper. “Understood?”

You took in an unsteady gasp as a delicate bead of blood spilled down your breast, and looked up at him quickly.

He wasn't fucking around with you.

“U-Understand!" You said quickly, a rictus grin of pleasure coming to your face, the air cool on your tear-streaked face. Thank you~”

“Good girl ♡”

#strade btd #strade ykmet #strade x reader #strade x mc #qs #fics #drabbles #i knowwwww he'd want you to be crying and begging but like. he's being a manipulate mansplain malewife rn. let me live

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