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dilf-docs · 1 month ago

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Strobbing Lights, Circled Calendars

harry castillo x younger fem!reader

summary: of course you're bound to see him here -- harry castillo, one of your dad's bestfriends and main sponsors of this gala. you'll need a mountain of champagne to make it through the night without losing your temper, but harry has never made it easy.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, (eventual) smut, foes to hoes, (one sided) enemies to lovers, angst, rich ppl (yes that's a warning), slowburn, reader may be a bit of a cunt (sorry if this x reader fic is mischaracterizing u), ft. dbf!harry (love this trope so much and had to squeeze it in, my bad)

word count: 3,898 words

side note: I KNOW the movie isn't out yet but the mental illness and hypefixiation combo is killing my ass lately. besides, i alr posted this in wattpad (oc version tho), and thought why shouldn't i post it here too; we all deserve rich sugar daddy gentleman pedro AMIRITE ++pls i wanna see ur comments and reblogs, lemme know what u think!!! :,) we're still far far away from that type of interaction wINk WoNK so for now, enjoy(??) their annoying banter and try to get my vision okBYE

part: prev | masterlist | next

Your parents divorced when you were a kid.

Your birthday had been a day before, the sun casting it's rays as your feet walked barefoot through the marble frigid floors; it could've been an omen about the cold to come. Around you, staff scrubbed floors with remanents of confetti. Some balloons were still standing in the garden. There was some leftover cake in the fridge.

"Y/n. You're awake"

Your father's gaze was one of pity. You were too young to understand that.

"Where's mommy?"

You hadn't even opened the mountain of presents awaiting in the living room and Sofía Reyes was gone.

She never came back.

Maybe that's why you hate your birthday. Maybe that's why you hate marriages. Love. It was a cruel lie sold to you and then taken away, to be locked behind a part of you that died the day you turned eight. You were forced to grow up, devoid of the loving touch of a mother who didn't hesitate to leave you behind like the discarded dolls you tore that day, futile attempts of replicating her touch with the maids, a sea of faces who failed to last long, characters broken by your desperate wails and short temper.

All you had was the rage of an unloved child. Hate.

Hate turned into resent, then barely a quiet rage, enough to carry you through cold interactions and your father's second, third, fourth, now fifth marriage. Enough to fuel the determination that had driven you to excel in your classes. Conquer. Crush. No one dared to mess with you. And that's what made you raise to the top: the best of the very best. Paired with your father's money and contacts, a few years later and you were New York's most sought after divorce lawyer.

It filled you with a wicked pride. A cruel sense of satisfaction of some sorts. May be the power of ending what once was love, and now had dwindled into apathy, bitterness or just the cold silence of a foretold death, ending with just the twisted knife of your signature. In a way, it made you feel like a god: capable of doing and undoing what people considered sacred. You laughed about that. Forever was, indeed, the sweetest con.

You didn't believe in love.

And you were final about it, just like with everything else.

"Mrs. Wallace is outside" your secretary's voice chimes in. You told her to stop using the phone and instead come to your door directly: you never know when you could answer and it'd be your dad, the last person you want to hear ask you about anything going on in your life. "Should I tell her to come in?"

Your latest client. About to end a marriage of almost two decades because her husband cheated. The goal? Keep her lavish lifestyle, which meant winning a part of his money.

Of course, she had come to your office for help.

"Yes. Thank you"

You search for her file in your computer, feeling disoriented all of a sudden.

"Um, I'm sorry, Caro" she stops on her tracks at your office's door. "What day is today?"

"June 17th"

It's today.

Carolina quirks an eyebrow, and you hate the way she squints her eyes, as if to decipher you.

"Should I clear your schedule for the rest of the day?"

A beat goes by.

"No" you resume your typing, probably to avoid her gaze or to busy yourself. Maybe both. "As a matter of fact, pack it up as much as you can"

She sighs, turning her heels, not before looking at you one last time.

"Happy birthday, Ms. Beaumont"

She leaves you alone, closing the door softly after her. The Reyes is silent, as the room. You shake your head, typing your thoughts away.

There is nothing to celebrate.

The door flings open, the loud click of heels against your office floors. You just hope Mrs. Wallace doesn't ruin your handmade carpet from Morocco with her shoes.

"Hello, Y/n!" her voice may be annoying, but at least she took the weight of your last name off. "Ugh, I've been dying to see you"

"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Wallace"

"Drop that. Just Mia" winking while placing her Hermès on the chair to her side. "And it's all thanks to you"

Mia isn't an awful person, just annoying. Annoyingly rich.

You pull out a stack of documents neatly organized inside a carpet.

"Okay, so I just need you to check this documents-"

"No need" she's quick to dissmiss coolly, in that elegant yet frigid way of her kind. Then, her red lips (try to) form a smile through her botox injections. "Do me a favor and entertain this soon to be divorcee, dear. Show me your client list, maybe set me up with another hot-"

You let out your first real laugh in a while.

"Oh, you're funny Mia! But I'm not a matchmaker" you lean back in your chair, giving you a perfect peek of your degree, diploma and doctorate. You smile, satisfied. "See those behind you? I don't bring couples together. I tear them apart"

She stares at you, dumbfounded.

"That was cold" Mia deadpans.

Bit ironic, innit?

You shrug, unbothered. "It's my job and I'm the best. Which is why you came to me, right?"

She nods, slowly.

"Well then!" you clasp your hands together, startling the blonde woman. "Let's get back to what matters, shall we? I promise you that pathetic excuse of a husband you have named Mark will pay"

There's only two things you know: money and heartbreak. Born into New York's posh society, all your life you've been surrounded by the lavish of the elite world: a world that smells like unaffordable cologne, brands, burnt cigars, exclusivity and superciliousity.

You're as familiar with extravangance and parties as you are with big lonely houses and no one to call when you're down. It is all a blur of strenuous music of bars and drinks down, but when it's quiet, it's all about the silence like someone has died.

It's the price to pay, you think as you look down, to the tiny passerby walking on the bustling streets. You like to wonder about their lives and if they're happier than you, a secret torture kept hidden between you and the glass walls of your office at the firm.

You're already thinking what movie you'll choose for tonight as Joaquín, your personal chauffeur, drives up to your apartment.

He opens the door for you, lending a hand.

"Have a good night, Ms. Y/n"

For some reason, be it his respect for your chosen aphony or the familiarity not to be confused with warmth, you let him address you by your name, unlike the rest of your staff.

"Thank you" a word so small and repetitive yet foreign in your lips.

No congratulations, but his last look over the shoulder and nod may be. He probably is the only one who has seen the faces of distate as you answered your phone through his rearview mirror, displeased at the words of supposed affection of your acquaintances.

As you step inside, the bright lights and minimalist decoration wash over your tired form.

"Ms. Beaumont" it's your concierge. Your feet are killing you, and all you want is to take a bath and order some sushi. Not more human interactions for the day. "There's someone waiting for you"

Just what you needed.

"It's nine, Clark" you seethe his name, rolling your eyes. "Who could possibly need me?"

"Hey, little one"

Never have those words felt more out of place. He has never felt more out of place.

"Dad" you force a smile. He takes some strides across the lobby until he's stading in front of you, close as to see the new spots on his skin but not enough to be at hug's length. It's not like you ever did. "You could've called, you know?"

To say those two words I could care less about.

"It's important" he makes a gesture of remembering. "Oh! Happy birthday, by the way" you didn't expect less, "how much is it?"

Of course he didn't cross half Manhattan to congratulate you.

"Twenty-six" you reply, nonchalant.

"Time flies by, does it?" he tries to sound nostalgic, but it falls flat and artificial, as a rehearsed speech. It all felt like that, anyways.

"It does" you cut his bullshit off. "What do you want?"

He laughs, loudly. "Ah, that's my girl! Look at you" he points your suit, making your cheeks flare up between anger and embarrassement. "In this tight attire, talking like a bussiness woman!"

Your father looked as if you had slapped him in his face when you told him you wanted to be a lawyer. He could've cut you off, but you were his only family. I will make you proud, you assured him. At the end of the day, above all, you were still a daughter. So you used his money and your skills to build where you stand today. Despite it all, he still found ways to put you down and make you feel eighteen again, as the weak little girl who quietly cried herself to sleep, Yale acceptance letter tucked harshly in the trash.

But he started this.

Your father would never understand this choice was his fault.

"Now, let's talk, then" you snicker a small finally in there. "Impatient one, as always. Aren't you? Here, take a look for yourself"

He hands you an envelope. It doesn't take you two to put the pieces together.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Annabelle is sick" he's quick to explain. "I want you to come with me"

Sick could mean many things: the flu, sick of me... Maybe he'll show up in a few months at your office to end his fifth.

You quirk an eyebrow, annoyed. "Do you want me or need me to?"

"Whatever suits you" he adopts that posture of his, as to indicate the conversation is over. "I just need you to be there"

Not an option. You eye the envelope again, tearing it open. The first words you see, big in bold are Open Bar. You place the invitation inside again, not bothering to read the rest. That's enough for now.

"I will be"

If you knew all that was to come, you would've declined.

The image of your father on the lobby of your apartment, one he just hadn't bothered to visit since you moved in two years ago, has been in your mind since last night.

Why was he there? It must've been important.

"What do you mean you were busy?" your friend, Rachel, huffs. You roll your eyes at her over the top voice for a simple conversation at brunch. Your head pounds, probably for tonight's event or the guilty bottle of wine emptied alone now turned hangover.

"I was working" you reply, stuffing a bit of salad on your mouth to avoid a gag.

"You're always working" she's quick to counter. "You're supposed to have fun in your birthday! And, you know, reply to your friend's texts"

You look at a spot on the white tablecloth.

"You know I'm not one to celebrate my birthday. We can go out any other day you'd like"

Rachel twirls a loose strand of her curly ginger hair, absentminded.

"You still ignored me"

You stiffle a laugh. "Should I apologize?"

"You never do" she leans back on her seat. "By the way, what's that?"

Your phone chimes in again, as on cue.

"Ugh, it's Nessa. No idea? My personal stylist, Rach" you turn off your phone, annoyed. "I don't get the point of validating my appointment. If I booked it last minute, urgently, why would I cancel?"

Rachel wiggles her brows, teasingly.

"Is it for a date? Please tell me it's for a date"

Last time you went on one, it was last year; you just didn't want to go to Rachel's New Year's Eve party alone. You haven't spoken to Barret (or was it Baxter?) ever since.

"It's a gala" you sigh.

"That's pretty much the same to me" she raises her glass. "Any cute boys going?"

"I didn't check the invitation. My dad forced me to go" you yawn. "Is it important, anyway? It's for amFAR. Won't be the first nor the last of the year"

"Figures. My dad is going" she casually mentions, diving back to her forgotten croissant.

"Wait" a beat. "If my dad and your dad are going, then-"

"Harry Castillo" you seethe.

He's in the back, surrounded by a crowd, wrapped around his finger. He may be aware, by his charming smile. All the world, licking at his hand for scraps of his precious attention, hovering around as dirty flies over the most exquisite banquet. Harry is like the sun: everyone can't help but orbit around him, drawn by his light.

But he was never like the others.

Which is why you despised him.

Him, who is now walking towards you with purposeful strides and a polite smile.

"Ah, David!" his voice utters in a deep tone. It's cheerful, too cheerful for a gala full of the cold echo of cutlery and rehearsed smiles. "How's Annabelle?"

"Sick" he smiles, but it sounds scornful. "Do you remember my daughter, Y/n? She's here on behalf of her"

Your father offers the same tight smile your way. Behave, as if you were the same little kid who cried to be taken home.

He lets out a boisterous laugh. "Of course I do"

Him, who knew exactly how to get under your skin: could be the way his brown orbs shine with sincere warmth as he leans forward, or his tone, charged with an autority that demanded respect. Like the world owed him a favor just for existing. But it is too the way he takes in your hand, chapped lips pressing against the soft of your skin, the sound of a kiss as he whispers your name like he owns it: as if Harry Castillo was the only man capable of saying it.

You can feel his moustache scratch your palm. Can feel his cologne start to invade your nostrils. Your mind. Your common sense. Your head spins, but you haven't even had a drink yet.

What is happening and why does he look at you like he knows?

"Always a gentleman, my friend" your father bursts your train of thoughts.

"Someone has to" he replies, velvet voice laced with something you can't quite place.

Why does he affect you so much, down to the marrow of your silver bones?

"Don't you think so, Y/n?"

"What?"

"The world needs more people" your father speaks, "like Harry"

More people with gelled curls pulled backwards. With expensive cologne that enters the room before they did, as intoxicating as their presence. With more new spots on their skin, blooming as the grays that have started to sprout between the chocolate of their hair.

More people who preferred a dinner and conversation over a club and a drink. Who took their time to search all of Manhattan for the perfect bouquet. That kissed with a force so inebriating, your cheeks turned vinious and body went limp.

More people who still believed in love. Good old-fashioned lover boys.

You purse your lips. "Sure thing. Would be wonderful"

Harry Castillo gives you his best smile. "I'm glad you agree"

You so desperately need a drink.

Outside, the world seems quiet.

Just at your feet, cars zoom and people walk, sounds beating raw with the hearbeat of a city that never sleeps.

But up here, you like the con of a lull night.

For a moment, it's like the world let's you breath, and no matter how much you love the club's strobbing lights and loud beat, or the sharp edge of words thrown in the court's enclosed space, you would still choose this fleeting moment of calm.

Your heart has never felt at peace.

"You have a bit of a habit of running away, don't you?"

Your breath steadies a bit. Like you expected this to happen.

"And you have one of prying into other people's bussiness"

Just like that, your wall is up again, long gone the sense of silent ease.

He chuckles, lightly so. "It's kind of what I do for a living. Guess old habits die hard"

Speaking of which, he pulls out a cigarette from his pocket.

"Do you mind?"

You look at him, puzzled. He pats his pristine suit, then shoots you an apologetic smile.

"I seem to have forgotten my lighter"

"I quit"

He raises an eyebrow. "Good for you" but his tone is full of mockery.

Like he doesn't believe you to be capable of holding to your promises.

Surrendering to Harry felt easy, not humiliating. It's not like you would be the first, nor last to do so.

"I still carry some for emergencies"

It's the same lighter he's seen all this years, accompanying you on lonely balconies and packed rooms, yet looking as new as the day you were given so, because you had a knack for caring too much.

It had an S, a B and an R, but even as he heard some things, he never dared to ask why you treasured it so much.

"Is this an emergency enough?"

The corner of his lips curve upwards at the same time he leans closer. You recognize the Myrrhe Mystère he's bathed his honeyed skin in.

You flicker the light once.

"Come closer and find out"

You flick it again, and it's just him and you, in that terrace, the wind blowing hard but not enough to kill the flame: for a moment, barely seconds, the blaze bathes his auburn eyes in a warm glow, as if they were the very same fire in your hand.

"There you go" voice impossibly soft.

This is hate: the way your breaths seems to mingle with your pulse, paused. Afraid to reveal more than meets the eye. The way your voice reduces to a whisper, as if speaking loudly would give your thoughts away.

This is the real reason you hate him: because no matter how many roads you take, the world is a sphere, and at the end of the day, it all leads to Harry Castillo's irritating, irksome and exasperating way of haunting your mind when you give him just a small space.

But that was him. Demanding. It was never enough. He needed more: even in the scope of your thoughts. Consuming. As the cigarette that hangs from his lips.

"Thanks" he pulls back, taking a drag. "Aren't you a doll?"

You remain emotionless. You try. Try, try, try.

"Dolls don't speak. They just look pretty"

Another drag. Slow. Your eyes drift to the shape of his mouth.

His eyes find yours, smirking. "Then you're already halfway there"

You give him your back, already done with this conversation. But he isn't: something about rich people and not knowing how to lose. You know it all too well, carry the disease yourself.

Harry Castillo always needs to have the last word. Like the last bullet of a gun.

It's got to land.

"You know, you're just like your dad"

The bitter aftertaste of champagne bubbles up your throat. You turn around, with pounding head and heart.

"I'm his daughter" you reply.

"I mean you're shit at pretending"

You laugh, incredulously. "Oh, aren't you a know it all? What, is that your job too?"

"Sometimes, we enjoy doing things that aren't our duty. Nonetheless, they capture our interest"

You feel a myriad of things: angry, humiliated, brave, stupid. Briefly reminds you of Rufus, your dad's old hunting dog. When he got sick, he got mean and angry. Bit the hand of his owner and licked it after.

"And what could I possibly offer to capture yours?"

He smiles. You feel him walk closer, cut the distance between your cold bodies, until the green of his ring becomes clear in your visual field.

"Your inability to keep your lies alive"

You forget how to breath until his arm brushes past yours. He kills the cigarette with a learnt casualty, the flame going out with a hss. His body remains rooted in place, caging you against the cold metal until it presses on the bare back your dress shows.

"Fuck you, Harry" you seethe.

How he always managed to ruin your day was a mystery, but it's always been like this: the push and pull, until someone gives in.

Small cuts until the wound is too big to ignore.

Dards thrown against the biggest of dartboards to exist, where every hit hurts.

"S' not the first time I've been told so" he chuckles. "Not by you, either. Looking forward to that"

The bewilderment in your face must be obvious by the way he smiles, sadly so. He starts to walk away, back to the on-going party.

"Hey! Where are you going?" you shout, "this isn't over yet"

You think he mumbles a You can't have it all.

"I can" you feel your body shake with vitriol. "Don't you know who I am?"

Why do you keep letting him get away with it?

You tell yourself each time that this is it, but it's impossible to ignore how he always makes you lose the mask you have carefully crafted.

He's like a mirror, but where light meets his reflection, you meet the darks of his shadow. It's like his sole purpose it's to remind you of the filth within you and the heavy weight of the crown with your father's last name. The more you stare at his eyes, the easier is to pick apart the flaws you know but don't feel in yourself to change.

It's like he knows you. Like Harry truly sees you for who you are: past your silver spoon, your spiteful remarks meant to wound, night life, expensive brands and opulence.

Worst part? He doesn't seem to mind the crisp of your rotten skin. You don't, either: a burnt child loves the fire.

"I do" he replies, his soft remark washing over your ember flaming anger. "But do you?"

You let him walk away. It's too much. You look at the the expanse of water surrounding the island, all to not drown on his eyes and the thoughts in your head he always makes you second-guess.

Pathetic.

Then, one final time, he turns around, glancing at you deeply, as if remembering something.

"I know it was yesterday but, happy birthday, Y/n" whispered in a fragile breath that gets lost in the sea of buildings and smog of Manhattan.

It lingers. Like his perfume over your clothes and the smell of the smashed cigarrette against the railing. It too lingers like the weight that's pressed over your chest and you can't name.

He doesn't wait for an answer. You don't have one.

And then he leaves.

You look to the skycrapers, coldly trying to replicate the beauty of the stars above, trying to reach the sky but falling short.

Trying, trying, trying.

You close your eyes and breath.

Falling, falling, falling.

Two words. Almost two decades of hating it. All it took was Harry Castillo's mouth to utter them as if it was important.

You shake your head in disbelief.

Because, for the first time in a lifetime, your birthday feels like it matters.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas / 🏷: @io12n @dowscal @oscar-isaac @joelscowgirl @jxvipike @klarkapascal @lostinmyownmaze @folklore-barnes @alinacecee @sukitruqui (comment if u wanna be tagged!)

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writervaul-t · 9 months ago

Text

something about you

chapter four: the wild wolf

summary: chiara calls [name] and unexpectedly sees more sides of benji.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x reader

note: anyone got songs that are reader or benji coded? i'm expanding my playlist 😫

masterlist | playlist

There were many things [Name] could describe Chiara and one of them had not been predictable.

She had told [Name] she would be out with a couple of friends from her department at The Wild Wolf, a club just right outside the campus and a frequent place most students gravitated to after a torturous month of exams and classes.

Chiara had lived with the concept "Party it out" whenever a mildly inconvenient problem had found itself on her lap. [Name] elected to stay home during those times, either working the night shift at Rhaenyra's store or sitting at home. There were rarely ever days where their street was dead silent and [Name] took every opportunity to enjoy the minimal noise pollution.

That's why she found herself dumbfounded as she stood in front of The Wild Wolf, her phone gripped tightly in her hand as the music from her phone was nearly synced with what she was hearing outside. The guard, tall and burly Cregan Stark, was also the TA at her Data Analytics class last semester. He stood awkwardly in front of her as they tried to decode what Chiara was saying.

"I'm - hic - too druuuunk." Chiara says for the sixth time that night to her. "I'm at the sears by the bar. Do you think you can come gerk me please? I promise I won't ever doew thith agai--"

The line cut off, making both Cregan and [Name] shoot each other exhasperated looks. "I'll let you in since I know you're just going in to get her." Is all Cregan can offer, motioning to the ever growing line at to the club.

"I owe you one." [Name] says in response, letting Cregan stamp her hand before opening the door to the sound of loud EDM and body heat. Lights strobbed all around her, making [Name] disoriented as she made her way toward the booths, hoping to find Chiara quickly.

Worry seemed to work its way up as she couldn't find her friend after three booths. She couldn't have wandered too far away from how recent the call was. Still, it was Chiara of all people and the possibility of her wandering off anywhere while inebriated wasn't a new concept.

"Is that [Name]?" A voice calls out as she passes by a group, stopping her from checking another booth just past them. Her eyes go wide as she makes eye contact with a Tully. Beside him stood his brother and a couple of other people she could barely recognize but they certainly knew her from the way they looked at her. She kept herself still before she finally met a set of familiar dark eyes.

Benji looked as shocked as [Name] was as they made eye contact. His hair had been loose of its usual style, the brown strands covering his forehead and as if he'd run his hand through if one too many times all night. He wasn't dressed any differently then usual but she wasn't sure she'd seen him in the striped shirt and jeans he had on.

Or the chain around his neck and rings on his fingers. Or the girl clinging to his arm. A girlfriend? [Name] asked herself before remembering Chiara mentioning he hasn't been seen with anyone.

"Hi?" [Name] says. Benji pulls away from the girl - his friend group entirely - as he comes up to her. [Name] puts a hand up to stop him from coming closer, doing her best to speak loud enough so only he can hear. "I'm not here to party."

"I gathered that much." Benji says, looking at the starry sweater and leggings she threw on before leaving her apartment. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

From the corner of her eye, she can spot the brothers put their heads together, looking over Benji's shoulder and waving. The girl he had stood with looked at her curiously as she put her attention back on the man, worry settling in again as she remembered why she was here.

"My friend - Chiara Tyrell. She called me piss drunk and asked me to come get her. Have you seen her?" She asked him hopefully before looking around.

"No, I haven't but let's find her together, yeah?" Benji calls over the music, before turning back to his friends to tell them he would help [Name] and guiding her through the booths.

They checked diligently, Benji asking anyone he knew if they saw a brunette girl passed out anywhere. [Name] had nearly lost hope in everything until she heard a shriek and felt someone tackle her from behind. She nearly lost her footing had Benji caught her before falling over.

Chiara grinned dopily at the two of them, wrapping her arms around [Name] as she stared straight at Benji and said, "Ben! I'm so glad you're here. Do you think you can convince your girlfriend to go out sometime? It would so much more fun if you'd come with us! But I know that this place probably isn't part of your thing--"

[Name] stared her friend down, hand reaching to cover her mouth but Benji interrupts them, helping Chiara stand up after moving [Name] beside him. "Let's ask her when she's not about to kill you." He interrupts, working as a barrier between them and the dancing crowd.

[Name] groans as she puts her friend's arm around her. "How do you weight nothing but everything at the same time?" She huffs at her friend.

Chiara doesn't respond, seemingly falling asleep after realizing [Name] had found her. Benji grabs the other side of Chiara, helping [Name] move her to a booth close to where he originally was. Kermit and Oscar, having watched the whole ordeal, walks up to them, peering over at Chiara.

"Oh, she's gone." One of them chimes in.

"Do you need help?" The other adds, to which [Name] paused at the thought.

Chiara was small but definitely not light enough for her to walk five blocks on her back. She looked from her friend to the three men in front them then to the group they had came with. All of them seemed invested in what was happening, which made [Name] wonder if any of them were made aware of their agreement at all.

"Um, maybe just to take her outside? I can call a rideshare--" She started but nearly felt sandpaper go down her throat as she caught sight of a familiar mass of brown hair coming their way.

"Odd group to see!" Aeron calls out, a smile on his face that could only mean he drank one too many. His eyes blearily focused on [Name]. "Coming to pick your boyfriend up, [Name]? Ulla Greyjoy was all over him just a moment ago."

A pit in her stomach fell. He saw Benji with another girl? A fear struck in her as she realized they might get caught if she doesn't think of something quickly. "Um, no. I was with Chiara all night. We just separated from everyone."

Aeron glanced at her "In that bingo get up?"

[Name]'s cheeks turned red as she remembered her ridiculously put together outfit. Even in the dim light, she probably did look like a displaced librarian who just finished her night shift. Still, she wouldn't let his comments bother him, turning away to check on Chiara.

Being ignored had been Aeron's least favorite activity. [Name] was set on doing just that as she focused on her friend's needs. She pulled at her sleeves, wishing nothing more than to ignore Aeron and even Benji's subtle comments about her clothing right now. Sure, she did dress up like she was going to a flower field majority of the time, but the clothing made her comfortable but should she have more... Variety?

She could only go so far and wonder as she heard Aeron chime in again. "You know, its alright to admit if you made it all up, [Name]. It was pretty obvious when you said it at the beginning and now its clear you didn't even come in with this group."

The words made her blood run cold. She was sure whoever was around heard it. Aeron made sure it was made to be that way. Typical of someone like him. Benji stepped up this time, toe to toe with Aeron as he loomed over him.

"Say another word, Bracken. I dare you." He snapped, shoving the brunette's shoulder lightly. "[Name] is with us. Or are you too drunk to figure that out?"

"She's dressed like a nun on her off day!"

"So what?"

"Stop covering for her, Blackwood. We all know you haven't touched a woman in forever unless you paid for her." Aeron says before looking over at [Name] and grinning. "Though, who knows what [Name] will do to get money. Tyrell might be in on it as well. Didn't know you were into that kind of stuff, Blackwoo--"

A loud smack sounded in their corner of the club, making a few of the dancing club goers beside them stop. Aeron collapsed to the ground, holding his cheek as he stared at [Name]. Her chest heaved from adrenaline, palm burning as if it could still feel the heat of Aeron's cheek.

"I have a lot of patience for pompus, egotistical dolts like you but don't mistaken that as me being a dormat, Bracken." She seethes, walking closer to him. She leans over, making sure he had a good look at her face. "The next time you insult my friends like that, it won't just be a little bitch slap."

She backs away, not giving him a single glance as she grabs Chiara, the newfound adrenaline finding some strength in her to pull her friend up. A crowd had begun to form, Cregan Stark's burly build breaking through the bodies of skinny first and second years that swarmed them all.

"We're leaving." [Name] says to him. Cregan glanced down at Aeron, now standing in drunken disbelief with his friends as they watched [Name] coax Chiara to sit up.

Cregan nods. "Right. Just so you know, though, you're not allowed in for another few weeks. Any of you."

He stares pointedly between Benji's and Aeron's group. Clearly they he's had to speak to them before and this was a final straw. [Name] glanced apologetically at Benji, who only shook his head, motioning to the Tully brothers.

Kermit and Oscar were quick to come to herside, moving her out of the way as they picked up Chiara on either side. Benji strolled beside [Name], rubbing his hands along the length of her arms as he looked down at her.

"Alright?" He asked quietly, only low enough for her to hear and intimate enough between them for people to think they were together. A ploy to extinguish whatever fire Aeron almost started. Still, there was a genuineness in Benji's question. As a friend, he did want to know how she felt and she knew in her heart he really did, especially with how concerned he looks at her.

Play your part. "Yeah." She murmured, leaning into him without a second thought. She hadn't realized how shaken she was from such a simple comment and slap but when she had found herself against Benji's body, she could feel her shaking fingers clutch at his shirt to ground herself. "Just take us home. Please."

Benji wraps his arms around her, one of his hands smoothing her hair as he places a kiss on it, nodding with another quiet, "Okay. Our apartment is closer, so let's go there tonight, yeah?"

[Name] didn't answer, just nodded as she felt Benji pull away from her and grab her hand instead. She felt him plant another kiss to her forehad, maybe an attempt to sell their romance even more or maybe to calm her down, she hadn't known. Either way, she was nearly glued to Benji as they made their way out the club, hand in hand.

"We'll take Ulla and Aly home." She remembers a voice say. Benji, Kermit, and Oscar nod at them, the four of them (save for an unconscious Chiara who was being carried like a sack of potatoes by Kermit after losing rock-paper-scissors to Oscar) walked down in silence.

[Name] hadn't loosened her grip on Benji's hand, afraid if he might disappear on her despite them walking down a quiet and open street.

"I'm sorry I got you guys kicked out." Was all she could muster.

Oscar was the first to speak up, laughing as he says. "That is the only way we should get kicked out next time. When are you free again after a couple of weeks? I know you and Ben are only dating for a certain time period because of that weird deal and all but you seem like loads of fun with how fast you whipped around to slap Aeron!"

[Name] looked at Benji, who squeezed her hand. "I told my friends, like how you told Chiara. Don't worry, they won't say anything." He promises and she only nods, seemingly trusting his word. So far, anything Benji says makes [Name] comfortable enough to believe.

"She's busy, Oscar. Some people have lives outside of this school, yeah?" Kermit reminds him. "Besides, who would want to hang out with you?"

"Hey!"

The two brothers start to bicker right then and there, only to stop when Chiara groans at them to stop. [Name] giggles at her drunk friend as she pushes some hair out of her face.

"You're not allowed to complain, Chiara. The guys are nice enough to carry you and let us stay with them. Say thank you."

"Thaaaaank ye-yewwww." Chiara manages to slur out.

She's going to be so hungover. [Name] thinks to herself, looking over to see Benji observing her as well. They both share a look of amusement as they come to terms with the possible monster they have to deal with tomorrow morning.

When they make it back to their apartment - or more like a renovated warehouse loft - Chiara is set down on the couch. [Name] takes the time to remove her shoes and make up, letting the three men do whatever it is they needed for the night before asking for anything.

She had wiped the last of Chiara's makeup off when she hears footsteps from the metal stairs. Benji had just finished showering, his hair plastered against his forehead. He was holding a blanket with some clothes and a towel on top. [Name] offers a smile of thanks before throwing the blanket on top of Chiara.

A snort comes out of Benji when Chiara starts to snore loudly. "That's how you know she won't be waking up any time." [Name] informs.

"Well, we should all enjoy it until then." Benji comments. "There's a bathroom attached to our spare room. I usually use it because Oscar takes so long but I didn't want to fog it up just in case."

"Right. Thanks."

"And you can keep the clothes. In case you need to convince someone at your apartments you have a boyfriend and all."

"Cool. Got it." [Name] awkwardly fiddles with the sweatshirt and shorts. "Thank you for covering me, by the way. I so was caught up in Aeron and his comments that I could barely even register what I did."

Benji shook his head. "No, I understand. I would've done the same thing if he said that. He deserved that slap and more. You're a good friend for defending Chiara."

"And you," [Name] adds, raising an eyebrow at him. "He almost called you a pimp if I hadn't slapped him fast enough."

He grinned, recalling the events earlier. "Did you see his face? He couldn't believe it wasn't me who struck first."

They both laugh at the moment, remembering the shock and horror on Aeron's face when they all realized it had been [Name] who smacked him. [Name] stared at her palm. For once she felt the anxieties of the world wash away when she told Aeron off. Like a piece of a puzzle fell into place when she defined a line.

"Either way, it drained me. Who knew going to a club does that." [Name] jokes, making Benji perk up a little.

"Its more fun when there's no pricks like Bracken around. Join us next time." He urges. [Name] only nods, not ready to protest and reason right now. Not to mention, she'd get too curious and ask about Ulla Greyjoy.

Benji seemed to have sensed her hesitation from how he opened his mouth before quickly shutting it to not comment on it as [Name] walked up the stairs. She was grateful for his silence, not sure she was ready to open that kind of box yet.

Mingling, socializing, making friends - all of this was a new concept to [Name]. The only friends she had outside of Chiara was Syrax the store cat. It was a strange feeling but it sent a buzz in her system that made her want to continue looking for it. Still, it was a scary feeling and [Name] wanted nothing more than to push it away for now, the club, the slap, and Ulla's hand on Benji's arm still fresh in her mind.

"Baby steps." [Name] whispers to herself, shutting the guest room door so she can finally let the energy from tonight wash away in the shower.

taglist

@not-a-glad-gladiator @opheliaas-stuff @sahvlren @nikki-is-a-nerd @weird-things-i-think-about @cxcilla @anakilusmos @haydee5010 @waystarkia @newestobsessionishere @herejhsttostan @hardkiddonut @aisselasstuff @rebeccawinters @aemondsb1tch @radiantdanvers @northofvalyria @accidentpronedork @cafemirka @hobis-hope95 @nixtape-foryou

#benjicot blackwood x reader #davos blackwood x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #davos blackwood fic #benjicot blackwood fic #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic

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just-about-nothing · 4 months ago

Text

tumblr hates me and only lets me add one video per post but here's my hannukiah in all its strobbing glory!

happy hannukah! chag sameach! it's been a pleasure

#just jew thingz #chanukahproject #flashing tw #flashing lights

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911bts · 1 year ago

Note

that strobbing lights scene starts at about 21:00

Thank you!

#anon #answered #s7 #7x02

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nextgenfoals · 6 months ago

Note

Neon Strob and Bumblebee :>

Another next next gen!! Despite Jitterbug’s bright colors, they don’t really like attention, and would much rather be playing video games :) — mod charm

#mlp #mlp request blog #mlp fim #mlp next gen #my little pony #mlp art #next gen #next gen oc #mod charm #bumblebee #neon strobe #fluttershy #octavia melody #rainbow dash #vinyl scratch #dj pon3

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spyderlondon · 9 months ago

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An au, where everyone’s memories are lost including the crew thinking they were ever real/humans when they got transported into the digital circus, they all think they are their respective characters and act as their characters personalities, heavily deviating from the ones in the show

Pomni a semi crazy goofy jester

Kinger…. A normal king

Jax, a helpful voice of reason(with a little southern accent)

And so on

A/N: .......evil Caine route? Evil Caine route. Definitely no showtime in this- it'd be far too toxic. There will be a referenced BunnyDoll though.

CW: Mind wiping, mental manipulation, puppeteeing unwilling participants, amnesia, loss of free will

Art by @00belle00lovely00

Pulling All the Strings

Ko-Fi

----

There was a small gasp then a groan as a small woman awoke in a dark room with no light visible aside from a small crack under, what she assumed, was a door, "Ugh... where-where am I...?" She mumbled quietly.

There was an almost unnoticeable dark chuckle from the corner of the room, "Seems my new puppet has awoken from her sleep~" A voice called out as she was forced onto her feet slowly and steadily as if strings were pulling her upwards against her will.

Her eyes widened in fear as she began struggling, attempting to get away. Only to feel her flesh being cut into by the invisible threads. She could only gasp in pain, "Let go! Let me [^^%*&^%] go, you ba-" She cried out as the strings seemed to yank against her neck, threatening to cut deep if she spoke another word.

Once the woman went silent and the figure seemed to feel slowly stop to struggle, he spoke up again, "They always struggle." He sighed as he on the strings once more before loosening them up, "Always struggle, almost always curse. You're all so... human." He hissed out 'human', sounding disgusted by the word. He went silent as he looked down at her, only his glowing narrowed eyes could be seen. It was as if he was examining her, judging her, figuring out who she was, "Hm, yes, you'd make a wonderful jester~" It sounded as if he was grinning, "Let me adjust your mind a tad..."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN AD- Ack!" She was silenced with another pull of the invisible string on her neck, drawing blood.

"Now, now, pet. You needn't worry about a thing..." A hand was placed on top of her head, forcing her to peer up into his heterochromatic eyes that began to quickly flash with dots and strobbing lights. She attempted to shut her eyes to avoid looking into his but that merely resulted in tiny strings taking her eyelids and forcing them open, "Do not look away from your new puppet master." He commanded with a low growl. She whimpered in fear as she had no choice but to submit to him, gazing into his flashing, wide eyes, "Good, my little jester~ Just stay like that..." He mumbled as watched the color from her eyes slowly dull from the bright violet coloration they once had and slowly had the colors separate into blue and red in a pinwheel pattern before her eyes were allowed to flutter shut.

------

"Pomni. Wake up. Time to prepare for the show." A voice spoke out, waking the jester from her sleep.

She rose as if booting up like a computer. She looked up at the floating figure in front of her with blank eyes for a moment as if registering who she was looking at- red coat... white under shirt... black pants... top hat... oh! "Hello! Caine!" She greeted as she jumped out of her bed with a bright, kind've unnatural smile on her face.

Caine hid a smirk as he watched the girl- his new puppet. His new 'AI' smile at him while rocking back and forth on her feet as if waiting orders from him. He hummed as he silently looked her up and down, admiring his work on the jester. She had a black and red color scheme unlike her blue and red eyes but her outfit had entirely changed- she had a hat on that completely covered her hair with the front part of it going down in between her eyes and barely going over the bridge of her nose with little yellow bells on the ends of the liliripes; she had a dark red vest with little purple jewels attached on the lapels; gray long sleeves that had cyan embroidery on it of some swirly patterns as well as the letters 'C&A' on the shoulders; she had dark blue and crimson gloves on her hands; her tights were black and red alternating zig zags; and her shoes were like her gloves dark blue and crimson.

The ringmaster rolled his shoulders a bit, "Hello, my dear." He mused as he greeted her, "I apologize for how I had to force you into sleep mode last night, you were just acting out too much. I had to reprogram you a bit." He explained with a feigned sigh of disappointment, "But, don't you worry, any injuries sustained were patched up Bubble!" He clapped his hands together as if everything was going as normal as always. Pomni's programming simply messed up and had to be fixed after!

"Oh! Sorry for whatever I messed up on, Ringmaster!" The jester apologized with a silly bow before glancing up at him to see him chuckling in amusement, brightening her mood up.

"Ah, it's all okay. No harm, no foul after all, my dear." He waved off, "But we mustn't stand here chatting! Jax and Ragatha's act should be over here soon! You are up next, my dear, the audience mustn't be kept waiting after all!" He urged her to get ready before he zipped off to check on the current act.

----

"You cannot see

How much I long to be free..."

A stiff looking rag doll was spinning on a large music box in the center of the main stage of the circus- she was dancing around as if she was nothing but a decoration on the mechanical contraption.

Near her was a purple rabbit with a yellow light jacket on top of a seafoam green shirt and dark yellow pants. He was moving and dancing around as if under control of an invisible puppetmaster, "Truly Scrumptious~" He sang towards the doll despite how she never glanced his way and remained ever turning, "And if I may seem presumptuous..." He danced over to the mirrors attached to the music box and looked at himself like it was choreographed... until he paused and stared himself in the mirror as if he saw a flaw on himself.

"Turning around-" The doll's eye subtly wandered towards the rabbit and noticed what he was doing, she could tell the audience and the now nearby Caine, were becoming suspicious by the rabbit's actions, "-on this music box that's..." She waited until she rotated closer to him before jolting a tiny to ram his face into the mirror, making him stumble a bit and looked around.

There was laughing from the audience and the rabbit went back to singing, "Never... never... ever..." He wandered back in front of the doll's music box where he saw a hand close to his and he couldn't but use his puppet like movements to get close to trying to give her hand a kiss.

"Wound by a key." Her moved upwards quickly, slapping one of his ears lightly- causing more laughter from the crowd.

"Go away." She made sure her arms and head moved in a perfect, robotic motion as she spun and tried to ignore the blush that tinted her cheeks a little when she saw him try to kiss her hand.

"Yearning..."

"My heart beats so unruly..." The bunny placed a hand on his chest and had it move like a heartbeat.

"Yearning..."

"Because I love you truly..." He opened his arms wide as if to get a hug from the doll.

"While I'm..." The doll sent him a small look that told him to 'stop it'.

"Honest, Truly..." The rabbit hugged himself instead.

"Turning around and around." She suddenly became frozen, the music box no longer turning.

"I do." He halfway flopped downwards, the tips of his ears barely touching the ground.

Once the music ended and there was a roar of cheering amongst the crowd, Caine popped in between two, "...meet me in my office after the show..." He ordered the two of them silently, his eyes glowing a bit as the two of them gave a quick nod before running backstage.

The ringmaster looked up to the audience, "Weren't they wonderful, audience?!" Everyone in the stands cheered loudly, "Hope our next act, the jester can impress us all just as much!" He roused up the crowd, getting them excited for the new jester.

The rag doll and rabbit stared in horror from behind the currents as they heard the announcement of a jester. The doll had to grip the rabbit to keep herself from letting her mask fall, not when another character was so close by, "He got a new person..." She mumbled under her breath, her voice trembling as she watched Pomni make her way up to where the trapeze platform were, "...we have no net to catch her if she falls..." Her face paled, "Jax..." Her grip tightened.

Jax put a hand on hers and tightened it a bit, "Caine can control her, she'll be fine, Rags..." He murmured to her, his own eyes never leaving the sight as well. Especially now that the jester had begun her performance.

-----

Song used in the fic: "Doll on a Music Box" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

#the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #tadc bunnydoll #bunnydoll #jax x ragatha

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