#the term rock is very loose here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-fiction-witch · 27 days

Text

I Like Him P4

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - (OC) Jaerra Targaryen [Daughter of Daemon Targaryen & Rhea Royce] Rating - 15 + mentions of childbirth / mentions of death / mentions of rape and abuse / hair pulling / loss of mothers / Word Count - 1785

Requested -

Part 4 pls 🙏 Plssss Part 4? 🥺 I really hope you are planning to write a part 4, because I love how the fic's going More of the I like him series!! Plzzz

The work began at Harenhall, Lords and Levies alike took tools in hand to help make the castle ready to host the armies of Queen Rhaenyra. Preparing the old ruins to house the Riverlords, the armies, and the thousands of men that would wait here for the queen's word.

Even Daemon was chopping wood for supports and beams of the once grand Hall.

Jaerra had been given the task of weaving rope, she found the task a little insulting being told by the lords to sit in the corner and weave while the men around her, chopped wood, broke rocks and stacked bricks but it meant she got to sit in a quiet windowsill winding cordage and braiding it into rope for … whatever tasks they needed it for.

Luckily she wasn’t alone, Oscar Tully had to been given the task to work on the rope, too too felt mildly insulted over it, given he was the youngest man in the castle he felt like kicking the man who told him. That he felt so large he could tell the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands to go and sit with a woman and weave. But Oscar didn’t argue and just wanted to help in whatever way he could, imagining he wouldn’t be overly grand at wood chopping, rock breaking or bricklaying anyway. And of course… he got to sit in a nice little corner with Jaerra and weave rope by her side.

Oscar did his best not to stare and not to plush at her but found himself far behind her in terms of making rope due to always having his eyes on her.

He sighed wistfully as he looked up once more, seeing her today wearing a simple gown of a deep red slightly bronze colour, her Targaryen blonde hair loose around her, with her one dark brown streak beside her face at times she blew on the streak whenever it fell into her eyes as she worked. He couldn’t hold back his smile, imagining her for a moment…

Sitting in the Solar of Riverrun, with the redwood walls surrounding her, the large arch of blue watery strained glass behind her as an orange sunset fades, her body leant against the craved lapping trout bedposts of the canopy bed of the lord of the Riverlands, the firelight cascading over her, wearing a mud red gown, her hair braided and beautiful but still her dark brown strand being blown from her face, a swollen belly ripe for a baby to be born, as she embroiders a silver dragon below the watery black waves, the fire crackling the only sound other than his own rapidly beating heart.

And he could stay in such a thought forever. Oh, how he wished to.

“The rope shall not weave itself my Lord Tully,” She smiled teasingly as she caught him looking,

“Oh! Yes- Of course,” Oscar jumped back into the moment, “Forgive me my lady my mind was… elsewhere,”

“Nothing to forgive, and I’ve told you before you do not need to call me a lady,”

“I know, I just… feel rude is all,”

“I would prefer it honestly,”

“... as would I,” He smiled, “I would prefer us to be plain with one another…Jaerra”

“I hope so too Oscar,” She smiled back as she worked,

He got back to his work for a while before he felt compelled to speak, “Jaerra?”

“Yes, Oscar?”

“Forgive me, but. May I ask something… that may seem personal?”

“You may,” she nodded, “I also may punch you so the choice is yours,”

He chuckled, but soon settled seriously, “It’s uhh- it’s about your hair?”

“Yes?” She raised an eyebrow at him,

“Do you mind me saying it's… unusual?” He asked, “But still very beautiful!” He jumped in to correct himself not wishing to offend her,

“It’s unusual yes.” She agreed,

“May I ask, Why?” He asked, “Targaryen’s usual have the -”

“All over blonde, I know,” she nodded,

“But you don’t?”

“I don’t,” she nodded, “I used to,”

“You did?”

“I did,” she sighed,

“And this dark brown streak just… grew over time?” He asked his hand absentmindedly moving to the dark streak of her hair putting it neatly behind her ear,

“Sort of,” she answered, “I- I pulled my hair out when I was young,”

“You- pulled your hair out?” He asked, “On purpose?”

“Yes, strangely.” she nodded with a slight scoff, “When I was little, people said my hair was perfect, that it glimmered in the sunlight like a dornish diamond, my ‘Beautiful long Targaryen blonde hair’, never once was I allowed to braid, brush or wash it myself, and I all were forbidden from cutting it. Maids would sit with me for hours just doing my hair, braiding this endless rope of hair behind my head,”

“Wasn’t that heavy?”

“Very.” She nodded, “but… I was so angry, such a sad, angry little girl. And when I was angry I would go to my chambers and I would pull my hair so hard that I would rip it from my head and burn it in my fireplace. It started small at first a few hairs, never to be missed. But… I kept doing it, and doing it,” she explained, “until my ‘beautiful long Targaryen blonde hair’ was patchy, broken, mismatched lengths, and the only thing to be done was to cut it all off.”

“Cut off? How short?”

“To the root, too short to pull out.”

“I- I bet you were still beautiful,” He cooed,

“No one told me so, all anyone said about was how nice I would look when it grew back. So… the moment a single strand got long enough I would rip it out, ripping and ripping over and over.”

“Didn’t it hurt?”

“It did, but… I didn’t care.” she said, “All I saw on my head was a sigil, I was a Targaryen and everyone knew it before they even knew who I was, and I hated it so much that I didn’t care how much it hurt.”

He softly nodded, “But when did it, turn brown?”

“Years later,” she answered, “One day I noticed it, just a few hairs. Dark brown. And I loved them so utterly,” She cooed winding her fingers around her streak, “They felt… like me, and I let them grow and grow wanting my whole head to turn this dark brown, it stopped with just this but I love it.”

“Not Targaryen, Just you,” He smiled,

“Just me,” she nodded, “Daemon hated it, I imagine he still does. But It makes me feel like me,”

Oscar nodded, “I like it too,”

“Thank you,” She smiled,

“I- I assume the brown, comes from your mother?”

She nodded, “I think so,”

“How does she feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” She said sadly, “I hope she’d like it, but she never got to see it,”

“Oh-” he gasped, “Forgive me Jaerra,”

“It’s alright,” she reassured him,

“What happened to her?” He asked gently,

“I did,” She answered, “She died, in the birthing bed.” Sadness flooded her voice,

Oscar felt a chill go down his spine, but he felt compelled to speak, “I- I lost my mother that way to,” He answered,

The two shared a look, a thousand words of understanding passed through them without a movement of their lips,

“Can I ask-”

“I don’t really know,” She said, “Few would speak of it,”

“I don’t mean to-”

“I know, it’s okay,” She softly smiled,

“Who was she?”

“Rhea, Lady of House Royce,”

“House Royce? Of Runstone?”

“The very same,”

“I have heard tales of her,”

“Many have,” she nodded, “He married my mother, becuase his grandmother Queen Alysanne demanded him to. But he hated her, and she hated him,”

“A very happy marriage then,” he joked,

“Very much,” she laughed, “Daemon avoided her and the Vale as much as he could, never even consummating their marriage… until. His brother then King Viserys demanded him to. Daemon arrived to Runstone on Caraxes too drunk to barely stand, he crawled beside her and took her. They said her screams echoed through the mountains. And she got pregnant with me,” she explained, “Daemon didn’t care he ran off god knows where, and left her alone. She sent ravens and messengers but Daemon never came. She went into labour one cold night or so they say, and I was born. A little Targaryen blonde babe. Everyone says it began to rain the moment I was born.”

Oscar softly smiled at that,

“And she held me… looked into my little eyes and she bled to death.” She explained, “The wounds too great she… passed, with me still in her arms, the maids told me once, she … was begging just to hold me one more moment, she told the Maester my name and then… she was gone,” She sniffled back a tear,

“I- I’m so sorry Jaerra,”

“It’s alright,” She nodded forcing back her sadness,

“They say that about me too?”

“What?” She asked,

“That it rained, it began to rain the moment I was born they say.” He nodded,

“What happened?” She asked gently,

“My father… adored my mother, He was Heir to Riverrun, the future Lord Tully, and she… a sweet smallwood girl, the future lady of Acorn hall. He would have moved the trident for her” He chuckled, “made her his wife when they were young and in love, of course… she was pregnant not long after. With Twins” He explained, “But… she was a small woman, thin and delicate. Birth just… ripped her apart, I came first and my father named me Oscar of House Tully. And before he was even born he named my brother, Kermit. but… they say she begged him, her hands bloody begging not to do it, saying she couldn’t do it, I had already broken her body beyond repair and she begged and cried for hours but she did it. She brought Kermit into the world, but… she was dead by the time my father held him in his arms.”

She nodded, “And your brother?”

“Dead. A day later. They say it was a miracle I survived.”

“I’m so sorry Oscar,” she said resting her hand softly on his,

He let a small smile crack across his lips, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers and rubbing his thumb softly against her skin,

“What was her name?”

“...Annie. Annie Smallwood,”

“I’m sorry you lost her,”

“I’m sorry too,” He nodded, “if it helps, I’m here and I promise I’m not going anywhere Jaerra.”

“Me either Oscar,” She smiled squeezing his hand a little, “Now come on let's finish this rope before they come to yell at us,”

“Right,” he nodded and chuckled softly, but as he looked to their rope he blushed, “Oohh uhhh we uhhh-”

“Oh!” She giggled softly,

The rope Jaerra had been braiding and the rope Oscar had been braiding had somehow gotten braided together forming one rope together,

“Well, guess we need to start over,” She chuckled,

98 notes · View notes

papergirllife · 3 days

Text

Lee Taeyong (M)

‘I beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker.’ But there's always exceptions when it comes to love right?

Taeyong x Bartender! Reader

Wordcount: 6.7k

Warnings: in this fic Taeyong has impulsive tendencies and physical aggression (not towards reader), light b*ndage, or*l play, slight or*l fixation, grinding, penetrati*on, Taeyong is very much down bad in this fic so lots of fluff.

The party is so boring, no one’s dancing even though they’re dressed to the nines in this extravagant hotel ballroom that could rival any celebrity’s expensive wedding, but instead all they’re doing is talking business, but the worst of them, are gossiping, and of course, to your downtrodden luck, you’re the gossip of the night.

“He’s going to be bored of her soon, I just know it, just look at her, so different from his ex and usual type.”

You’re not the type to be affected by being shit talked, however, you do have your worries, and frankly, heartbreak is one thing, but your ego? That’s another, you think to yourself as you sip on your glass of scotch. You sigh as you recall how you ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Maybe you should’ve thought through this more thoroughly, you think to yourself after seeing people go in and out of the supply closet, which is obviously a disguise for the illegal casino beneath the pub you’re working at, though, some people do really come for just drinks, but most of them are customers of both businesses under this roof and since you’ve been here for a week plus now, you recognise some of the regulars by now, but a man you don’t recognise is suddenly taking a seat right in front of you, usually customers prefer to go to your colleagues who have been here far longer and know what customers want, only helping out more on weekends where more people come in for a drink.

You rise from your stool, yes, one great thing about working here means workers don’t have to meaninglessly stand the whole night.

“You’re new here?” the man asks, and if you were being honest, he’s probably the prettiest man you’ve seen, but you screw a neutral expression on your face, one should never let their guard down around a man of all things.

“Yup, what can I get you to drink?” you ask as you take in his appearance, dripping in designer, a pretty loose blouse that accentuates his sharp facial features, earrings hanging off his earlobes, the designs feminine compared to what most men wear.

“Scotch on the rocks, please,” he says while he leans back to make himself comfortable, his arms crossed, usually clients would be looking around for someone to take home by now, the usual ‘pub guard’ scanning, you like to call it, but for the ones that want a drink before going down to gamble, they usually have this impatient look in their eyes, not that it affects you, your skin is as thick as a cheese wheel.

However, this man just sits and observes you. Is he part of the mafia and is scared that someone’s going to poison him at any moment? Or is he a cop and is trying to make you cave to tell him about the illegal casino downstairs? You’re just going to act like you had no idea, you’re not working in the casino itself, they can’t charge you on any terms as long as your boss has an alcohol licence, which is what they promised you when you interviewed, if they’re lying you’re gonna have to kick someone’s ass.

When you pass him his drink, he just sits back and takes a sip, his obnoxiously large eyes still looking at you, they’re pretty eyes, but you’ve never kept someone’s attention for this long, though, in most cases, you could walk away, like those creepy men on the subway, you’re not sure if this guy’s a creepy guy, he hasn’t tried grabbing your hand yet, if he did then you’re viable to call security, but he’s just watching you.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks, a hand mindlessly swirling the glass in his hand.

“Needed money, Seoul isn’t getting cheaper by the day,” you say, a general answer.

“How old are you?” he asks, prodding, why is he still prodding?

“In my early twenties, above the legal age to serve you drinks, what about you?” it’s time for you to prod, engage with customers a bit, your manager always tells you, be a little friendlier.

“28. You look older than early twenties, not that it’s a bad thing, of course,” he says, and with the way he says it, you know he doesn’t mean it in a demeaning way, not that you mind, you swore off men long ago, people always tell you there’s better fish in the sea, but all you manage to fish are trash.

“Thanks, I did my makeup to look older,” you reply as out of the corner of your eye you catch a group of men walking in the pub.

“Why?” he asks, oh men, they’re so innocent to the things women go through everyday.

“So people would take me seriously,” you answer honestly before you excuse yourself to make drinks for the customers, you don’t want your manager to think you’re slacking off within a month.

However, after only finishing their second order, your colleague says she’d take over from you, thinking the customers are her regulars, you move away without questioning.

So you go back to talking to the man, this time round, he finally reveals his name to be Taeyong, he even orders a second drink of your choice.

“A negroni?” he asks with the expression of a kicked puppy, smacking his lips distastefully before he requests for a glass of water.

“Wanted to try it out myself one of these days, but I was unsure, guess I’m quite certain I won’t ever try it now I guess,” you say with a shrug and a chuckle at how comical his expressions are, a little bit of betrayal and a tinge of shock, which makes him look more human in your eyes.

A new customer makes his way to the bar in the meantime, but Taeyong’s brows scrunch up when he sees you’re about to step away to serve the customer.

“Let other people handle him, you just stay here with me,” he suggests.

“Taeyong, as nice it is talking to you, I’d like to remind you that this is a strictly professional relationship, please respect the boundaries between a bartender and a customer-

“Missy, who do you think you are talking to him like that, do you know who he is-

“It’s fine Ms Choi, she’s right, I’m merely a regular, I need to respect her boundaries,” Taeyong says, cutting off your manager.

Your manager looks flabbergasted before she composes herself, bowing to Taeyong before she drags you away from the bar to the small staff area on the side.

“I'm warning you since you're new here, Mr Lee is a VIP, don't do anything stupid, he's not the type to pull dumb shit, so you have nothing to worry about. Alright, that's all, get back to work,” she says before dismissing you.

“If you're worried about getting less tips then you don't have to worry, I'll tip you accordingly for the time spent talking to me,” Taeyong says when you get back to your spot.

“It's not that, I’m getting paid anyways, tips are just an extra, I'm still getting paid a base salary talking to you and not doing anything, so a win is a win, I guess,” you brush off, it's not that busy today anyways.

“No, I'm a responsible customer, how about you make me another drink? One that you fancy?” Taeyong suggests.

Hence for the whole night, you indulge in the lengthy conversation the two of you share, and with every night he comes in, you find comfort in this growing friendship, the only hiccup being that he tips you too much money and he won't take no for an answer.

Months go by and the lines between you and Taeyong start to blur, but you're still quite hesitant, you haven't committed in a relationship since a long time ago and if you're honest, you don't know much about Taeyong other than the fact that he's a businessman, but of what sort of business? You don't have the foggiest idea.

Tonight is a Friday night, which means the bar is busier than usual. Surprisingly enough, Taeyong hasn't dropped in tonight, he doesn't come in every night, but he'd never miss Friday nights.

“Hey, can we get two martinis,” a customer asks, distracting you from your wandering thoughts, and you quickly get to work, but out of the corner of your eye, you see a familiar silhouette heading towards the direction of the fake storage room where the underground casino entrance is located, but the customers asked for something on top of their drinks and you were distracted once again.

After a few more customers, Jiun, a bottle girl and your fellow colleague, rushes to your area of the counter in distress.

“Table 5 wants 6 Coronas in a bucket but I think I just got my period, is it okay if you bring it to them?” she asks, and how can you say no to a woman who's in need of help?

“Sure thing, do you need a pad?” you ask, just in case, you're sure you have some in your locker if she doesn't.

“No, I have one on me, but thank you so much,” she says before scurrying off to the direction of the bathroom.

After putting together the order, you quickly make your way to the table with the customers’ drinks, placing down the bucket on the table.

“You new here, pretty girl? Never seen you around before?” one of the men at the table asks.

“Nope, just helping out my coworker,” you replied as you began to make your way back to the counter.

“What a shame, a pretty face like yours should be admired more, why grind behind a boring counter?” another asks, this one's nearer to you, standing up from his seat to get closer to you.

“Sorry, I have to get back to my job now,” you say, trying to excuse yourself, but the man grabs your arm, telling you to not rush and sit down and have a bottle.

Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you and then you feel someone pulling you by the strap of your money pouch.

“She said no, unhand her,” you'd recognise that voice anywhere, and looking to your side, you see Taeyong next to you, his usually round boba eyes now appearing in a sharp warning stare.

“Fuck off, dude, we were here first, shouldn't we have first dibs on her-

Before you could react to being demeaned in such a way, Taeyong's fist connects with his ugly face, and to your horror, both of them start fighting.

You quickly try pulling them apart but Taeyong pushes himself and the man out of your way, telling you to get security, you didn't want to leave his side, but thankfully, security were already making their way to your direction, blocked by a few drunken customers, his friend, takes the chance to jump in on the fight, and who are you to stand there and do nothing? Taeyong might be handling one guy on his own just fine, but you can't watch him get beaten to a pulp in your name, and you did the most logical thing you could think of by kicking the guy's head with your thick heeled boots and to your astonishment, he seems a bit disorientated by the ordeal, security finally made their way to Taeyong to pull the guy off him and escort him out the pub.

“Are you okay?” you ask Taeyong, but when you inspect his condition a bit closer, you cringe at his busted lip and bruised cheek.

However, before you could suggest accompanying him to the hospital, police arrive at the scene and next thing you know, you’re being escorted to the police station for questioning along with the asshole and Taeyong.

They finished up with you quick, they were a bit sceptical about Taeyong merely defending you, but you played it up a little by lying about how scared you were and maybe you chalked up a little bit on how his hands felt like they were everywhere on you, but it's the least you can do for Taeyong, and it's not like there were cameras anywhere.

“How long is he going to be questioned, officer?” you ask the policeman who had questioned you.

“Probably not long, seeing that his lawyer is here,” he points to the entrance, where a tall man in a suit walks in and follows the lead of an officer into the room Taeyong is being questioned in.

Knowing that he has a lawyer with him, you sigh a breath of relief and sit down on a nearby bench, the coolness of the plastic material digging into your skin, you regret wearing your beloved black velvet shorts now.

Fortunately, true to his words, Taeyong came out soon after, heading to a nearby desk to finish up some paperwork with his lawyer, so you get to your feet and head over to him.

“Brawling in your own pub is a new low, Lee, just let your boys handle shit like this next time,” the officer says.

“Wait, what do you mean your own pub?” the question flies out of your lips and Taeyong looks up, stunned, not knowing that you were still here.

“Leave the questions for later, just finish signing the papers and head out,” the officer orders, with a roll of your eyes, you stand right there, waiting for Taeyong to explain himself, his lawyer trying his best not to laugh.

“So? Care to explain yourself why you've been lying to me this whole time? Regular my ass,” you mutter the last part to yourself as you walk out the police station, cursing when you realise you don't have your coat with you, it's bearable now that it's creeping into June, but you've always preferred being warm.

“I'm going to get going, my cab's here,” his lawyer says, grasping this small window to leave before he gets caught up in a lover's quarrel, passing Taeyong something, to which you identify as car keys.

“Thank you, Johnny,” he says before turning to you with a sigh, his lips sit in a thin line, looking a bit lost at the sight of you, your usual smile wiped from your face as your pretty eyes stare daggers into his face, arms folded, and that's when he notices the goosebumps littering your arm.

“I didn't tell you that I was the boss because I wanted to get to know you without the label and pressure of me being your boss,” Taeyong explains as he shrugs off his coat to hang it on your shoulders before he directs you to a luxury SUV parked nearby.

“You could've told me sooner, asshole. And, why did you pull that shit tonight? You could've gotten yourself beaten to a pulp if I didn't literally step in and step on his head,” you lament, expressing your dissatisfaction with your entire body to the point of swinging your beloved Coach bag that you told Taeyong you were saving up weeks for, and Taeyong thinks you're so cute when you're angry, but he does have to make an effort to dodge the angry swing of your bag as he helps you climb up the passenger seat of his car.

“I know, and thank you for saving my ass but I need to shut the door and get going now, princess,” Taeyong says and does so before you could protest his usage of endearments when you're mad at him.

“How about we get some food before I drive you back to your place?” he suggest when he starts the car, seeing that you're now giving him the silent treatment, face turned to the side to look out to not see him, but the word ‘fine’ uttered from your lips has Taeyong breathing a sigh of relief as he confidently drives into a familiar street where he knows a convenience store is located.

After getting and heating up noodles and onigiris to share, the two of you take a seat in the empty store.

“Don't do embarrassing shit like this on my behalf ever again,” you warn before digging into your cup noodles, the spicy warm soup bringing instant comfort and familiarity after such a hectic night.

“It doesn't matter if it's on your behalf, that fucker deserved it,” Taeyong reasoned as he peels off the plastic wrapping of his onigiri, taking a huge bite of the delicious rice ball he was craving.

“Just don't do anything stupid anymore, if I couldn't handle myself I could've called security, you doing something stupid embarrasses me too, you know, I don't want to end up in the police station with you ever again, my friends are going to think I'm dating a crook,” you say offhandedly, but Taeyong’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in your words.

“Wait, what do you mean dating?” he asks with the biggest smile on his face, onigiri placed on the side, suddenly he's not hungry anymore.

“Don't tell me you're not taking responsibility, I'm literally wearing your jacket and risked jail time for your ass,” you say so casually that Taeyong feels like he's having a fever dream, not even his best fantasies would he ever depict himself being labelled as your significant other.

“No, never, I'm definitely taking full responsibility, and I promise, no more doing stupid shit to embarrass you, I swear,” Taeyong pledges, his hand coming up to salute you, the goofy gesture finally getting the first laugh out of you for the night.

“Though, to prevent me from doing stupid shit, I have a proposition, you have a marketing degree right? I know you said you're against working for big corps cause you hate how they practically steal money off of people's needs, but I do have a few establishments, restaurants of a few cuisines, that need a proper marketer to oversee and promote, so if you're not opposed to letting go your bartending job…” and before Taeyong could finish, you were quick to say yes.

Boy, do the days go by so fast after that, your new job is mostly online, you have two coworkers, a graphic designer –Mark Lee and a social media manager, or better known as the restaurants’ staffs’ biggest fear, Lee Haechan. A small department compared to the two finance departments, one for clean money and one for dirty money, but if anyone asks, you'd say you didn’t have a clue.

Starting out a new job wasn't easy, nor was it too difficult, being a ‘quite fresh’ graduate meant you still recall plenty of the knowledge you've studied in college, but the huge funds you had was of great assistance, which brings you to this party hosted by his friend.

Taeyong said he wanted to bring Yuta, his omakase chef who had just earned his first three Michelin stars under his new restaurant, thanks to your hard work in marketing to attract new rich customers and food critics.

However, people on the top of the food chain always had a reputation of being absolute dickheads.

“She’s literally younger than him, his ex was older by five years at least, and she was one of us, I did some digging, this girl isn’t even from one of the SKY universities,” one of them comments, and it’s true, you’re not that smart and you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but what has you freezing in your spot is what comes out of their mouths next.

“I heard he got into a fight at his own bar for her and ended up getting detained for a bit, she’s just going to have him end up locked up if he stays with her, people like her bring nothing but bad omens.”

“Don’t tell me you’re letting their words get to you,” Yuta says, popping out of nowhere beside you.

“Even the strongest trees waver under the pressure of the winds, Yuta,” you say before finishing your glass.

Yuta and you have grown close after you had worked closely to promote the restaurant, and he values your opinion of which presentation you prefer, which is rare for chefs, especially the ones you've worked with with many years of experience and a reputation.

“Yeah, but who gives a fuck about some shitty pretentious university, that shit don’t matter as long as you land a job, plus, their faces are so botched, you look way better, Taeyong would never pick these shitty pick mes over you,” Yuta comments way too loudly for your comfort, but thankfully the girls were loudly squealing at the fact that their friend is finally here, welcoming her, unbeknownst of Yuta’s lethal words.

“Pick who over my sweetheart?” Taeyong asks, a hand coming to rest around your waist.

“I said you wouldn't, but someone’s doubting after hearing a few snarky remarks,” Yuta says, which has you freezing in your spot, Taeyong’s always been very protective and defensive about you, you don’t want to witness him fucking someone up tonight at such a prestigious party.

“Yeah, trust me, man to man, he’s definitely just fucking her on the down low, he’d never go for someone lower class, she’s most probably just a cheap fuck,” you look over Yuta’s shoulder to see a man standing next to one of the girls who were talking shit about you, two people were blocking their sight of your little group, so they hadn’t seen Taeyong coming back.

And to your horror, Taeyong leaves your side, walking up to the little clique.

“Oh god, he’s going to embarrass me,” you say with a groan before you quickly follow Taeyong as fast as you can in your Louboutins.

With a swing and the cracking of bones, you see the guy hunched over immediately, cursing as he holds his bloodied nose in his hand, when you finally got to the scene, the music had been cut, the place drowning in shocked silence no thanks to your heels, sue you, but you didn’t expect to need to run tonight, it was just two feet but these heels are so unwalkable.

“Don’t let me catch you assholes talking about my girlfriend ever again, you don’t want to know what I can do beyond breaking your nose,” Taeyong threatens as the guy quickly cowers on his spot on the floor.

“I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you,” someone says as they walk towards the scene, his name is Woozi, Taeyong had told you about the host of this party being a close friend of his who he had helped out when he had just taken over his father’s empire, you had no idea how much that meant to Woozi, but seeing them interacting now, you understand that if you mess with one of them, the other one immediately retaliates, “you wouldn’t want to go against him or me,” he says, elaborating no further, you hadn’t ask Taeyong what Woozi’s empire entails, but you think the less you know, the better.

“No, no, please, I was stupid, I’m sorry, miss,” he apologises to you before quickly escaping the scene, the girls leaving as well, tails tucked between their legs as they scramble, it’s quite an amusing scene.

“Thank you for standing up for me, Woozi, it’s nice to finally meet the host of this amazing party,” you say before sticking out your hand for him to shake.

“The honour’s all mine,” Woozi says as he takes your hand, “and nice to finally meet you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the person hyung’s been gushing about nonstop,” Woozi teases, which then earns him a light playful slap from Taeyong.

“Gushing is perfectly fine, I just wish he’d stop embarrassing himself and me on my behalf,” you say with an annoyed sigh as you turn to stare daggers into your boyfriend.

“Oh come on, I couldn’t just stand them and let them belittle you, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t do anything?” Taeyong retorts with a sheepish expression, he knows you don’t like it when he goes out of his way for you to this point, but he couldn’t help it, he loves you so dearly.

“You’re just proving them right by reacting, Yong, we talked about this,” you say, exasperated as you toss your arms up in defeat, you don’t know how to get this through his head at all.

“Proving what? Baby,” Taeyong calls out as you take off to the exit too, you have decided that tonight has been too much for you, you're tired of all this glitz and glamour with this thick layer of utter bullshit with their grade school playground gimmicks.

“Help me keep an eye on Yuta, I need to talk to her,” Taeyong quickly says to Woozi before he picks up the pace to follow you, ending up out at the lobby of the hotel, you were talking to the valet, and he distantly hears you asking for the keys.

“Baby, come on, don’t be mad, I’m sorry, I was stupidly acting on impulse, you know how defensive I get when it comes to you,” Taeyong reasons, but you keep quiet, trying to compose your thoughts, your car that you share with Taeyong pulls up, and immediately Taeyong tries taking the keys from the valet.

“You drank,” you say before pushing his hand away to retrieve your key, you did too, but Taeyong’s alcohol tolerance is much lower than yours, god knows he shouldn’t be driving.

Taeyong’s heart warms when he registers the chastise from you, you still care about him, you still love him, and so with a love stricken smile on his face and a slight bounce in his step, he's a giggly drunk so this happens all the time, though when he gets in the car, he worries once more when he sees how you chose to not play any music nor talk whilst driving.

When the two of you finally reached home, you immediately retreated into your shared bedroom, not sparing Taeyong a glance, not even when he offered to remove your heels for you.

Taeyong sighs to himself as he follows you upstairs, you had locked yourself in the bathroom as of now, probably cleaning your face free off makeup, he knows how you much you hate the texture of it on your skin despite loving to doll up, and he can’t blame you, even bb cream feels a tad bit too thick for Taeyong when you had applied it on him for fun.

Taeyong quickly changes into his house clothes and leaves the bedroom, just in case you need more space, he never wants to intrude when you want some alone time, even if he craves your affection, you’ll come around soon, you always do, Taeyong reassures himself.

When Taeyong was about to turn on the telly to kill some time, he hears you walking down the stairs, turning back to look over the sofa, Taeyong’s jaw drops at the sight of you.

Adorned in a beautiful lingerie set with a delicate crystal chain hanging around your upper left thigh, your face without a smidge of product, but he thinks you look best like this, but what finally has his cock twitching was what you had in your hold, a familiar pair of handcuffs.

“Sweetheart…” Taeyong mutters as thoughts of endless possibilities of how the night would play out runs through his head, but you silence him with the tip of your finger placed on his lips.

“Just let me do my thing, sit back and enjoy,” you say before you drop to your knees, your sultry eyes watching Taeyong’s every expression, and the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing has you cracking a smile as you lock his hand into the handcuffs.

Taeyong feels like he’s being hypnotised when your eyes stay on his whilst sliding his pants and boxers down, he almost didn’t feel his cock twitching from the cold air, but before he could even register the cold in its entirety, you take him into your mouth, the sudden action has Taeyong cursing, he would’ve bucked into your mouth if it wasn’t for your hands holding his hips down, he breathes a slightly frustrated sigh from the restriction, but like the little minx you are, you quickly hollow your cheeks after sinking in deeper, the tip of his length hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” Taeyong curses as he grows tense at your ministrations, he swears he almost came right then and there when he felt the constriction of your throat, his fingers turn white from grasping against the cuffs to anchor himself.

You take in the sight of him struggling to not cum and take pity on him, your mouth leaving his cock with a pop with a sly smile on your lips before your hands grasp him tightly, making sure he doesn’t cum too soon, the pressure sending a jolt down Taeyong’s spine, his usual round boba eyes now hooded but he scrunches them shut on impulse when you push back the foreskin, exposing the sensitive tip, giving it quick kitten licks before you suck on it like a lollipop, your tongue placed underneath his tip and you suck hard, and that’s when Taeyong goes over the edge, his body seizing up, you quickly take him down your throat, smiling around the edges of his cock when you feel the familiar warmth running down your throat, you keep him in your mouth until he stops, pulling off of him with a slight giggle when you see his chest heaving, limp against the couch, all from your undoing, and what a power trip that gives you, a rich and powerful man succumbing to your actions.

“How are you holding up, baby? Need a break?” you ask as you straddle him, tossing over your leg to situate yourself perfectly between his thighs, the lace material coming into contact with his cock, twitching back to life when it feels the slight warmth and moisture of your heat.

“More, please,” Taeyong utters as he tries his best to move his hips, and so you indulge him, rotating your hips until he hardens underneath you again.

You hear the clinks of his cuffs when you stand up, ceasing all physical contact, giggling when you hear him beg for you to come back, but he goes mute when he sees you shift the crotch of your lingerie to the side, climbing back into his embrace.

“You’re gonna ride me all dressed up prettily, sweetheart?” Taeyong asks, head tilted to the side as he takes in the sight of you, eyes locked onto his as you stare down at him, and he can’t help himself, lowering his head to litter kisses on your arm as he inhales your scent, call him a madman, but your scent might as well be as addictive as nicotine itself, the way he can’t seem to get enough of it.

Taeyong then shifts his head to the valley of your breasts, mouthing at your cleavage, pulling down the flimsy coverage by its thin straps to gain access to your bare chest, goosebumps rise on your skin when he finally takes a nipple into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks on it like his life depends on it, like he really wants to eat you up, the action has you chasing for more pleasure, grinding your clit on the tip of his length before you can't take it anymore, reaching down with shaking hands to position him to your core, moaning his name as you finally slide down, slowly taking him inside you inch by inch, Taeyong's succumbed to the sweet feeling of your warm walls, giving up on worshipping your boobs, instead he's gripping onto your hips hard as he focuses on being engulfed in your heat, he's kind of slobbering on your right boob, but you find it arousing, the way he's so lost in pleasure, his eyes shut, brows furrowed as he mutters a string of sweet nothings as you make your way down to the hilt.

An almost delirious smile makes its way onto Taeyong’s face when you squeeze around him, head dipped low as he curses from your actions, you tilt his chin up with your fingertips, ego inflating at the sight of how wrecked he is and you barely even started.

“It’s been so long and you’re still reacting this way,” you noted as you caressed the side of his face.

“For you? Forever,” Taeyong says with full honesty, eyes overflowing with lust as he confesses, looking so vulnerable, underneath you like you’re his god, and in a way, you might just be, if Taeyong had it his way, he’d build a palace just for you and dedicate his life to you.

“I know,” you say with a row of your hips, cursing in unison with your lover when you feel him penetrate the deepest parts of your heat, that sensitive spot that has your toes curling.

Spurred on by Taeyong’s ever vocal devotion towards you, you raise your hips before slamming down once again, and the moan of your name escaping his lips has you doing it again and again, the quick drag of his length against your flesh has the whole house filled with the sound of sex resonating within its walls, you’re grateful Taeyong’s unit is the penthouse, because Taeyong’s always been so vocal in bed, his voice pitched much higher than it usually is, and as much as you revel in the feeling of people admiring your man, you don’t want anyone else hearing how beautiful he sounds when he’s laid bare underneath you.

With how fast you’re going, you’re sure there’s indentations of the sofa’s legs on the expensive wooden flooring, but fuck it, you’re so close, but you’re to blame for that, clenching on him every time you sink down, just so you could see the way he tries the very hardest not to cum way too early, not that you’d mind, it happened many times before, and you still find it so hot.

Deciding to not prolong the torture any longer, you reach down to rub quick circles on your clit as you grind the tip of his cock to that one spot deep inside, that perfect 12 o'clock angle that has your legs turning jelly, with a hiss of Taeyong’s name and a spasm of your walls from the shocks of pleasure coursing through your entire body, you finally reach your peak, your body sagging in sweet relief, your sensitive nipples feel so good against his skin, but after having a quick moment to yourself, you quickly slide off of him with a loud squelch that got a giggle out of you even in this heated state, getting down on your knees and take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and suck, lips stretched, with his dick lodge at the back of your throat when you see his legs buckle and soon after, splashes of his warm release drip down your throat once again, when the flow ceases, you pull off of him with a deafening pop.

“Good boy,” you say after getting up brushing his cheek softly with those tender eyes that make Taeyong weak in the knees, only he gets to see this tender side of you, and it drives him mad sometimes, that it’s only reserve for him, of everyone you could choose to dote on, you chose him, and he hopes you’ll keep choosing him till the end of time.

With a quick click, he feels the cuffs being loosened and tossed away, instantly his arms are around your figure, pulling you into a deep kiss, the taste of himself on your lips spurs him on, but he wills himself to get his shit together, he knows you must be tired from doing all the work tonight, and there’s something that needs to be addressed soon, and so he pulls away from your lips, his hand placed on your right cheek, thumb brushing against the curvature of your cheek bone.

“Do you feel better now? Are you still angry at me or do I need to do more than letting you ravage my body like that?” Taeyong jokes with a laugh, but he immediately sobers up when he sees you sigh and climb off his sturdy legs.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that,” you say as you cringe as you recall how you acted out earlier today, you know no one’s perfect, but when you slip up, it reminds you too much of your own mother, throwing a tantrum and running away, and you swear you’d never be like her, but at the end of the day, you’re a work of progress, and fortunately, Taeyong understands.

“Do you want to tell me what triggered you?” Taeyong asks, his tone gentle, he never directs his aggression at you, no matter the situation, he loves you too much to ever even think of doing that.

“They said some things, and they’re not entirely wrong-” but you’re being cut off by an irritated sigh, Taeyong hates it when you demean yourself this way. “Before you get mad, hear me out, they said how I’d always get you in trouble, and when you think about it, they’re not wrong, I literally landed you in jail the first night we got together, Yong, and the shit they said about me not being from one of the prestigious universities, they’re not wrong about that, it’s just facts, I’m just not part of this elite social ladder, that isn’t the point. The point is that I feel like I’m tarnishing your reputation and in relation, your businesses,” you finish off with another sigh, you haven’t been sighing this much these days, so this feels oddly familiar in the worst ways possible, Taeyong’s been making your life more comfortable every single day, but you on the other hand, are contributing to his troubles.

“Don’t let them get to your head, you’re literally bringing in so much profit for me, sweetheart, next time I’ll throw a party just to show everyone how our numbers are doing, it’ll blow them away, also, you’re doing all that without a goddamn degree from those snobbish colleges. Lastly, you don’t get me in trouble, it’s just part and parcel of protecting the person I love, something they’d never understand with how shallow they are, don’t let people with an EQ of 0 determine how you live, and I know what you want to say,” Taeyong says when he sees you open your mouth to protest, “I’ll try my best to not get in trouble and keep my temper in check, but I do hope you understand that if it isn’t me, I’m just gonna have someone else do the dirty job of beating them up,” Taeyong says, compromising, that’s how his father and mother did it, he always believes that’s the key to a long lasting marriage, which is something he’d want with you in the near future.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, but he sees the ghost of a smile on your face as you lean down to rest your head on his broad shoulder, littering kisses from his neck to the end of his shoulder, Taeyong lets himself bask in your affection for a bit, knowing that you thrive off giving physical affection, but he's a clean freak at the end of the day, getting the both of you clean is still a priority.

“Come, let’s have a bath, my love,” Taeyong suggests as he carries you the direction of your bedroom, and you let him, soaking up the feeling of being loved, maybe Taeyong’s right, nothing matters when you have a love as cosmic as the one you share with Taeyong.

#nct smut #nct fluff #nct #nct imagines #taeyong smut #taeyong fluff #taeyong #taeyong imagines #nct x reader #taeyong x reader #nct 127 scenarios #taeyong scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fanfic #taeyong fanfic

98 notes · View notes

bun-z-bakery · 5 months

Text

(Repost from my abandoned account) these are just my personal head canons for dogday. this is a survivor au

(All characters are over 18 btw)

-dogday sometimes has dog like tendencies, like growling, barking etc.

-he doesn't remember a lot about his life as a worker but will share stories he remembers of his human life once you two become close.

-man is like a love sick puppy. First you save him? Give him legs? AND a home?! And his friends are here too?! You really are his angel.

-he's very protective of his angel. He can't have anyone take them away or even hurt them. Plus all those years locked away, he can't loose you, you're his hope.

-this man will most certainly plan his confession, script and all. Maybe you're away at work and this is something he's been working on for a while. He's always bringing you little gifts on his hunting trips (depending on if you like to collect rocks and such) but this dude went out of his way to find the best of the best. Even somehow found flowers beautiful enough to almost rival your beauty, keyword: almost.

-he enjoys spending time with you, poppy and kissy, he enjoys playing outside with you three, even if you guys have been out of the factory for years already. They still enjoy the outside world.

-I know bro is huge, like dude is taller than an American door way (according to some measurements fans have made, hes 9'5) if you're a shorty (like me 5 feet even😭) he will most definitely pick you up and carry you like a dogtoy. He likes the feeling of carrying his angel, it gives him a sense of pride doing so. Even if you accidentally hit the ceiling or he needs to really get down so you don't hit the top of the doorframe, he will always apologize or joke about it.

-he's a cuddler, he LOVES cuddling! He has his own giant dog bed in your shared room, but he prefers to sleep on your shared bed. If you're away from work and he's eepy, he'll pass out on your bed because it smells like you. Your scent keeps him at bay until you come home. Poor guy will shoot up and push anyone out of his way to be the first to get to you! He sits there on the floor waiting for his mandatory headpats and kisses as soon as he hears your keys.

-it takes his brain a few minutes to properly turn on. After all those years he finally gets proper sleep, I can imagine you waking up first and getting ready for the day to prepare breakfast for the group and you poke him, trying to wake him. He'll mumble some random stuff about not letting rats do taxes then fall back asleep only to be woken again by your pokes still talking nonsense. I can also see him sometimes waking up confused, you know like when you wake up your parents and they're mad for no reason asking what's wrong while gasping for air? (Just me?) I can see him being THAT dead asleep bhahsha

-my take on the survivor au is more of a modern take (as in yes the factory closed years also but reader is possibly in early to late 20s sometime in 20xx / non specified year) so they weren't an employee but probably knew someone like a family member who worked there or was dared to enter the factory (we'll see if I ever post my fanfic haha as these hcs kinda tie into that story) so dogday being alive in the 80s or 90s he probably has like the old school idea of love and attempts to swoon you as such. The flowers, cheesy pick up lines.

-I can imagine because he's not up to date with the newer terms and he might be confused while trying to seem cool haha. "Angel what does rizzler mean?" (Poor peepaw)

- Personally I love the theory that DogDay is an ex worker aka Rich. Which is probably why he was the leader of the smiling critters. Because he was mature enough to make sure everyone was in line/well behaved, I also think some other workers were turned into the mascots too (obviously) but maybe they trusted Rich more so they just threw him into the dance circle and hope that he'd be a good leader.

- this one ties into the first one btw! I like the think that maybe he was one of the mascots when he worked there. Like a guy in the costume who worked with the kids (hence the zipper, how else would the workers get into the bigger body suits?)

- I like to think DogDay likes when Angel calls him by his old human name. Maybe once he opens up more about his human life (or at least bringing up some of the memories he still has) he just randomly brings up his name when talking about a memory and hearing Angel repeat his name back, he'd probably like hearing it. It might make him feel like less of a monster in a sense. Granted I think he wouldn't care about what Angel calls him but he would most definitely prefer for them to alternate. Like you know when someone makes you mad and you use their real name instead of their nickname? He'd hate for his Angel to get mad, especially at him. But when living with 3 other people it can get a bit hectic.

"DogDay! Did you bring mud into the house?!"

"N-No!... "

*silence*

"RICH, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

*footsteps are heard and DogDay bolts out the door*

- Now this head canon I have can go either one of two ways, right? Hear me out. Listen up, listen carefully, and listen closely. (Lmk if you got that reference) ok so back to the zipper! I think the zipper just opens to his organs tbh like the zipper was just left functional in case he needed to be "repaired internally". BUT another thought, I also can see there being some sort of barrier! You know those stuff animals who have their stuffing blocked by a barrier so it doesn't fall out but the zipper opens to a compartment where you can store items? I kinda think that's whats there tbh, I mean it makes sense. What if one of the kids opened the zipper by mistake? Surely there would be a barrier just in case.

- as I mentioned in the last hc post, I can see him trying to swoon Angel in the old romantic type of way. I can see him pinning after Angel hard, at first they wouldn't get the hint, they'd probably think he's thinks he's indebted to them for rescuing them and giving the 3 of them a better and new life. But quickly they realize bro is in love. Of course poppy teases him about it too at some point lol. He doesn't really try to hide it either. I can see poppy and kissy thinking it's sweet and first then they get annoyed once you're the only thing he talk about lol.

- You're married. That's all! No but I can see in his mind you two are basically married. He'd probably want to have new custom star collars made for both of you or maybe even a ring for you and a matching collar or something for him to wear and propose. Of course it will bother him a bit because he can't go out with you, take you on dates or show you off but he trusts you (even though he gets jealous when you smell like someone else) he basically tries his best with what you guys have (If only there was a holiday that came once a year where you guys could go out dressed in customs without looking like freaks).

- He looks like the type of guy who would love pasta. I'm not sure why or how this even came into mind but I just feel like that's what he often wants for dinner. Poppy would probably eat fruit for dinner, kissy isn't really picky, but Dogday would probably be asking for either pasta or meat. Also I think Angel would be hesitant to feed certain foods to Dogday because you know, he's a dog (not really but hear me out) but because he acts like one at times I could see Angel being like haha nope you can't eat this!

*Angel eating chocolate cookies*

"May I have some?" *cutely pouts*

"I don't want you dying, love."

"You know I'm not actually a dog...right?"

ok ok you got me there" (they just really didn't wanna share lol)

- tbh this is more of a general head canon for the toys but I seeing as they had to resort to c*nnibalism. They clearly need food and water to survive. I think catcap was probably keep Dogday alive as a "lol now look at you now, look at me" (yes that's a BP reference) moment but only feeds him when he felt like it, since food is basically scarce in that place. I think that their human organs were transferred over but little things like veins, teeth, tongue, blood vessels basically anything that's not a major organ was made artificially and connected in a sense to those major organs making them function as such.

Yeah that's kinda it lol, there might be some more parts to this if I can think of anything else! But yeahhh that's kinda my hc and rambles lol (I tend to ramble a lot especially when I have to give context, I apologize!)

#dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #sunnyangel #bun z writes

154 notes · View notes

where-dreams-dwell · 7 months

Text

Dexter is a cautionary tale of the need to accept discomfort as a part of life, with Emma as his contrast and aspirational example.

Throughout the show Emma embodies determination and self assurance. The only reason she thinks she can change the world is.. because why couldn’t she? In contrast Dexter has no idea what he wants and kind of resents having to even think about it, hence his jumping between careers and looking for purpose for the whole show.

While Em knows what she wants emotionally (the satisfaction or having made a difference, the achievement of doing what she always wanted) but isn’t sure on the specifics of what that will look like (I’ll write plays, no write poetry, no I’ll teach, okay no I’ll write a book), Dexter knows the specifics (I’ll be rich and famous) but doesn’t know what he wants emotionally (‘what will that look like?’ ‘I don’t know’).

While Dex is always running from uncomfortable feelings Em faces then head on and comes out the other side, able to learn from them.

As Dex is travelling to put off making long term decisions, Em has taken the first opportunity to do what she wants: writing, be it books, poems or in this instance plays.

On holiday Dex can’t allow himself to admit that he fancy’s Em and to leave it at that, he has to run from the honesty and vulnerability of that moment by adding on ‘but I pretty much fancy everyone’. In doing this you could argue that he looses his chance with her for several years, where as Emma’s confidence could have resulted in them getting together much sooner.

Dex misses his mothers last birthday because he doesn’t want to face reality. Instead of reacting to the fear and anger and pain of her diagnosis by spending every moment he can with her, or sitting down to have heart to heart talks with her, or helping her out in any meaningful way Dex runs away and numbs himself with substances, and is passed out for the little time he is in her presence.

When he’s nervous people won’t (or already don’t) like him on TV he again turns to substances to numb his feelings, and (instead of taking Em’s advice to ignore them) looks for reassurance from hangers on who don’t actually know him that well. He can’t sit in that worry/fear/discomfort so he finds a way to stop feeling.

When Dex’s marriage falls apart we see him running away to Paris to visit Em. And sure there are ulterior motives here (his hope and assuming that this could be the start of their romantic relationship) but the writer shows him literally traveling away from the country where his failed marriage, child and previous life were as he is show to be angrily talking about his divorce. As an image it appears like he’s running away from the reality of the divorce or running to Em for a distraction. It definitely supports Ems assumptions that he’s not serious about a relationship with her; she’s seen this behaviour in Dex before.

It’s even funny how in small ways we don’t see him handle upsetting things until the very end. Talking about his first marriage and the production the day became? Dex admits he didn’t want to rock the boat so he didn’t fight anything/reject anything/ have much say at all in his wedding. Sylvie drops off Jasmine? Dex is still at the cafe so Em is the one managing slightly awkward small talk. Jasmine practising her violin? We get a brief moment with Dex too but mainly it’s Em sitting through the recitals. In that last episode when they’re struggling with fertility, Em is the one who sits down and talks out her anger and fear and worry, where as Dex (who probably knew what the root of it all was) was happy to leave her to process it how she need to and support her while she did. If she hadn’t brought it up he wouldn’t have said anything.

That’s not becisarily a bad thing (Dex could have known that Em needed to process it herself before talking to him) but it is interesting that the writers engineer Dex to avoid all these moments of emotional discomfort. It reinforces his characterisation of being avoidant when confronted with conflict.

In contrast we kind of constantly see Em having to face hard moments and working through them.

Don’t know what to do with your life? Move to London to try and aim to work in your dream field. London life and restaurant job not going the way you planned? Commit to Dex’s suggestion of teacher training. Time to confess a secret? Here’s a hugely personal one about my past feelings for you. Past crush admits he kind-if fancy’s you? Stick to being honest about your past feelings and don’t take the opening to downplay them. You feel shit about your life and your secret affair? Well let’s turn that into motivation to finally write that book.

Not happy with your long term partner? End the relationship.

Emma’s whole confrontation with Ian is a masterclass in facing difficult conversations and emotions, being vulnerable and open and honest about your feelings, and finding empathy for another outside your point of view. And look what she gains from facing that hard in comfortable conversation? Closure, and a kind of friendship, one that lasts even after she dies.

When Dex confessed that he hoped they would start a romantic relationship in Paris, Em sits him down and starts that hard conversation about how she doesn’t think that is 1) what he even wants and 2) would work between them. She doesn’t brush off of hide from the conversation. And then when she has more information and time to think she commits to Dex.

Even after they sleep together there’s a scene of Em laying the ground rules, making it clear to Dex what she will and won’t stand in this relationship. That’s an awkward conversation to have but Em doesn’t hesitate and makes sure he knows from the get go what she expects and deserves. The writers are constantly showing us ‘Em doesn’t run from uncomfortable feelings’.

And then the tragic twist of fate: Emma is gone and Dexter finally has to learn to live with emotional discomfort. He can’t keep running because there is no escaping this, not like he did with his mum. Like he says to Imaginary-Emma ‘why would time change anything’. He is going to feel like this forever, there is no escaping it. Finally he is learning to face it, manage it, and work through it.

Of course Emma is far more than a literally device and is her own layered and well established character. But in this regard for Dex it’s almost as if she’s the final lesson for him to work through to grow up enough so he can eventually choose to return to the place they met.

And it could even come across as a reward for him; in learning to live with those difficult emotions, his reward is being able to remember Emma fondly, and to return to the place they met to seek out those memories. The memories are bittersweet, but now he remembers Emma as she was and not how she never got to be.

Like his dad said, he is eventually able to ‘live [his] life as if she were still here’ but in order to do that he first had to accept that she was gone.

#spoilers #one day #one day netflix #dexter mayhew #emma morley #grief #emotional maturity #grief is love persevering #emotionally avoidant #I feel like he runs from pain #and doesn’t know how to handle it manage it #so he ignores it and runs from it #until the universe says ‘fuck you’ and makes it unavoidable #media analysis

212 notes · View notes

dhampling · 8 months

Text

the shepherd, the black sheep gn!reader, 2k

“Oh, come on now. It’s ok. They’ll come back, or they won’t.’ He sidles over and sits next to you. A toothy grin. ‘It could be worse. We could be here without each other.” - a plummet into a chasm leaves you and your light-fingered friend stuck. together, you wonder if you'll ever emerge again.

word count: 2,054

as always, a big thank you to the nonnie who sent me the prompt: 'Tav/Reader & Astarion get trapped together somewhere during a mission and have to deal with the isolation and anxiety of waiting to be rescued by their other companions' - i hope i did it justice <3

He rolls his thumb and forefinger as he casts an absent glare into your makeshift fire. Sniffs. Whets his lips.

“Do you think they’ll come back?” He asks into the open space.

You’re on the other side of the cavern, triple checking for access points you may have missed on your prior patrols.

It’s been a fraught few days but with the rescue of Halsin came much-needed information. A path to the heart of the Absolute. Finally your journey had a destination, and you’d started to gather momentum in knowing you had a set route to travel.

If Astarion’s revelation had only come a little later there’s no doubt your friends would be clamouring to save you both now.

He knows the camp is wary of him, even more so than before. You made clear in no uncertain terms that anyone unhappy with his vampiric presence was welcome to leave the party as soon as they pleased. He heard the rumbles, the whispers. The staunch distaste for your decision and the following questions on your capacity to make them.

The threat of a power vacuum seems only amplified by your current situation.

Lost in a deep cavern following a fall from a hefty chunk of loose rock, just the two of you. The shepherd, the black sheep. Your companions promising to return but with little by way of a plan to do so.

It was only your decision to cast Feather Fall prior to crossing that you both survived the plummet.

He is simultaneously overwhelmed with gratitude, and furious beyond measure.

Overwhelmed to the point of nausea. Deep, horrid nausea that seeps into his bones every time he’s conscious of it. A pounding headache, a splitting skull, a million times ‘why’; the way you reach for his hand in the darkest nights and it feels like a balm. Your neck on a platter. You listen to him and it feels as if the gods finally heard his call.

Incensed - pitifully - because he wishes with hindsight that he’d found a means to stop you casting the spell. He’d finally be dead, somewhere Cazador would never find him; and whatever tale the sordid scars on his back told would rot with him. He’d be left in peace in this cool, damp darkness and nothing would be able to mutilate any part of him again, minus the rats that’d very likely feast on his corpse.

How very funny. It almost seemed a shame to deprive himself of experiencing that one while still having a brain. The irony.

There’s peace here, in the drip-drops and the echoes. An ambience of sorts. A spacious tomb for his undead soul to frolic and haunt for all eternity. Maybe he’d set up his tent so he’d have somewhere for his ethereal spirit to lounge, put the bottles and bedrolls out. He did fall with his pack, after all.

But you’d be dead, too.

He’d suffer the fall twice. Break his own neck, garrotte himself in unholy witness of whichever reaper came for you. Slam onto the floor of the cavern, repeatedly; until whatever remained of his mangled brain could be assured of your own safety and he could finally fucking die.

Having something to die for.

Now that’s a novel concept.

You amble your way back over to him, rubbing your forearm as you search the darkness mindlessly.

“Don’t know. They’re under no obligation to, I suppose.”

“Easy way to do away with us.” Astarion ponders.

“You might just be right.”

You sink to the floor, wrapping your arms around now-crossed legs and exhaling softly.

“Oh, come on now. It’s ok. They’ll come back, or they won’t.’

He sidles over and sits next to you. A toothy grin.

‘It could be worse. We could be here without each other.”

When he says this, he expects you to flail your arms and chide him for his ill-timed attempt at humour. Tell him that you’d rather be here with anyone else in camp, that you hate the fact you’re so uncertain as to whether they’re coming back for you. Freak out in the way mortals often do. Reveal all those horrid little doubts over your staunch protection of him that he fears are stewing under the skin.

Instead, you meet his eyes and freely give a small smile.

“Right again. Making a habit of this.”

“I’ll be careful darling. I wouldn’t want to set expectations now, would I?”

He can tell you’re uneasy, but he doesn’t seem to be the cause. Not remotely. If your body is anything to go by then he’s a solace here for you.

For some reason, that suspicion makes him feel warmer.

You look over the packs. You’re unsure how long you’ll be down here, or whether you should be preparing for the worst case scenario where food is concerned; but hunger pangs are worming their way through you already and you’re cursing the single coffee you had back at camp.

You’d like to think your new friends wouldn’t leave you here. Obviously far too optimistic a perspective for someone with a mind flayer parasite currently lodged in their head, but without hope you wager you’d very quickly become completely despondent.

In your mind, either possibility is a very real one.

Astarion tilts his head to the side to make room for your own atop his shoulder.

The gesture surprises you in its intimacy. Not that you’ve noticed in any way aside from the purely observational, but his desire for physical contact seems relegated to that which is utterly necessary and nothing more.

The nights he has touched you have felt so.

This doesn’t feel necessary.

But it’s welcome, nonetheless.

“What can I do, my sweet? How can we make - this - easier.” He poses with a hint of a playful tone.

“I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you are, Astarion.”

He shakes his head and smiles with mirth.

“No, no. Not unless that was a proposition on your part?”

He turns and looks down at you softly.

“Maybe later. I’m just cold.” You speak with little conviction.

No emotion, just absence. He wonders if you’re actually considering letting him warm you through. A service he finds himself surprisingly willing to offer, wanting to even; his brain struggling to consider it a service when he’d derive such genuine pleasure from burying his icy fingers deep into the valleys of your warm flesh, head reverently planting kisses on your heated belly; holding your blazing torso against his. Tarse twitches.

Astarion hums.

“I could try to make you something, if you like?”

You scoff, a slight smile returning to your cheeks.

“Thank you, but I’ll decline. Tell me when the last time you cooked was again?”

He errs a little, wobbling his head and gesticulating softly.

“Details, darling, details.”

You both sit in silence for a few moments, undoubtedly thinking the same things. Mulling over the choices that led you here. There’s a fondness, though. A lack of regret. What will be, will be.

“Was there wine in your pack?” You break the silence.

His head perks up.

“Fancy a lock-in?” He grins cattishly.

For the first time since your fall, you smile completely uninhibited.

“Gods, I think so. Not much else to be done, is there?”

It’s cosy.

Inside Astarion’s tent are both bedrolls, plus whatever cushions and blankets you could find within your bags of holding; and copious bottles of wine plucked unceremoniously from the stockpile before heading out.

“I didn’t know if they’d take it as an opportunity to mutiny. Cast me aside, leave me to die. I had to take some of the good stuff with me just in case.” He grins.

“I can’t believe I’m so glad to find out you’ve been stealing from the group’s resources.” You lean back, enjoying the warmth of the fire on your icy flesh.

He scoffs.

“What?! It’s hardly an ongoing pursuit.’

He sips. Lowers his voice.

‘I don’t particularly want to give them more of a reason to stake me.”

Hearing his resigned tone makes your heart ache a little.

“They’d have to stake me too. I’d move too fast for that, obviously.” You mimic quick gestures with your hands, monk-style. He splutters on his wine.

“What on earth was that?”

“A demonstration of my battle prowess?”

You chop again with your hands, moving quicker as he folds with laughter.

“The focus in your eyes, darling. It’s remarkable.” He breathes heavily.

“Obviously? I’m ensuring they can’t stake either of us?”

You commit to the bit, chopping in the space all around you until your companion has tears in his eyes and is gasping for unnecessary breath.

“Thank gods I have a hero like you to protect me, hm? My knight in shining armour.” He practically purrs, wiping the tears and resting on his elbow.

“Just be thankful you’re not the one who has to fight against these hands.” You shake your head and dust them off with exaggerated finesse.

“I’d feel sorry for the poor bastard who does.”

He likes how absolutely ridiculous you are at this moment. It’s sobering. Two hundred years and he hasn’t seen someone with quite the ability to create a levity like you just brought to the situation.

Your devotion - though used in jest - doesn’t pass him by unnoticed, either.

A beat of silence.

You pour another big goblet of wine and stare into the abyss.

“What if we are just stuck down here?”

He ruminates, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Then we have three options.’

He looks at you.

‘One. We find a way to climb that crag right to the very top.’

You both look up to where he points. Above you, minus some jutting rock, is a chasm as wide as the sky.

‘Two. We repopulate down here somehow and create our very own race of awfully mutilated creatures to fool the gang into thinking it’s someone else they lost down here. We can’t replicate Gale exactly, obviously, but I think they’ll begin to look similar after a couple generations of natural inbreeding.’

You pull a face and shiver. He shrugs.

“Three. We get cosy, and go out happy. There’s nothing we can do from here.”

Astarion lifts his chalice in a moribund toast, gesturing for yours to meet him in the air.

“I’m grateful you’re here.” Your cup clinks against his.

A moment’s silence.

“I’m grateful it’s you.”

He looks at you once more.

He could’ve been down here with anyone. Most of them would have staked him immediately. Said the Feather Fall had worn off, that nothing could be done. He’d have been left here, dead, with nobody to remember the only weeks of freedom belonging to him in the last two hundred years of his miserable existence.

But there’s you. There’s always you.

He wonders how you would react. Whether you’d shrug and remain stoic, returning back to the wants of the masses, just another fallen body. Throw some nightshade into the abyss in memory and move on.

Of course you wouldn’t.

“I don’t regret it, you know.” You speak as you sip, still looking up into the cavern’s sky.

“I- Thank you.’

You sit in silence for a few minutes, the drip-drops of the cavern a calm backdrop.

‘Between friends - you’re a little in love with me, aren’t you?”

You swallow a gulp of wine and wobble your head. Gesture lazily into the air around you.

“Not yet, no.”

He moves to object, but is caught mid-breath.

“We’re doomed anyway. What if I said it? Those three little words?”

You laugh and sip again.

“What the hells. I’d say it back. Hope we live long enough to see it play out.”

Astarion looks at you fondly. There’s a genuine reverence in his eyes, soft and considered; and for the first time you see no barriers. If there’s a future in which the two of you don’t starve to death then he sees you there aside him.

“I love you.”

You bring his palm to your cheek and hold it there for a moment, closing your eyes and nuzzling against it.

“I love you, too.”

He swills the last of his current chalice in his mouth and swallows, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it reverently.

“Now we drink, and we wait.”

#astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 #my writing #angst #lil bitta fluff #mainly angsty

237 notes · View notes

altocat · 14 days

Note

thank you for the answer. i am looking for someone who would be willing to write a quick scene of sephiroth visiting angeal’s grave. i have agreed with the theory that angeal was cremated but i still think he had a grave marked somewhere because the young soldiers all loved him. i keep seeing a picture of snowfall and sephiroth seeing the grave for the first time. you don’t have to but i know sad writings are your forte. just a thought 👉👈

I got you! Sorry for the wait! I have put this on AO3 as well. I hope you enjoy!

----------------------------------------

Modeoheim was cold. Gray trees in the mid-afternoon, pale sunlight dancing against windswept brick and brush. Black earth at his feet. Abandoned buildings that rusted forlornly in the far distance, forsaken to the elements, slowly rotting where they stood. A crow called in the far distance, the noise echoing off the frigid hills and peaks.

Sephiroth's breath was steaming, gusty plumes that clouded the thick winter air. He lifted his head to the sky, speculative emerald eyes studying the rolling clouds, tracing the hazy patterns of movement. Foreign gray gods above him. Oppressive. Looming. A storm would be rolling in soon. He could feel it on the wind, taste it on the breeze.

It didn't matter.

Nothing really mattered anymore.

The marker was exactly where Zack had mentioned, a modest slant of rock that overlooked the hillside. Sephiroth watched the scattered collection of open wilderness below, his fists clenched, teeth gritted. He'd always hated this landscape. Barren land. Shadowland. Desolate and lonely. Terribly austere.

An equally terrible place to die.

"You'd be so proud of him."

Low murmur against the wind, alien in his own throat. He brushed the thick tangle of silver hair from his eyes, chin lifted, breath smoking the air.

"Zack. He's changed since you left."

The clouds rumbled faintly somewhere beyond the mountains. Sephiroth wet his lips.

"He's grown tremendously as a First. We do excellent work together. I truly could not ask for a more capable colleague. He'll be the very best of us someday. SOLDIER's finest."

Silence. Cold as bone. Hollow. Sephiroth hadn't expected anything, really. He didn't remember the last time he ever had. Expectation was a loose luxury he'd long since discarded. The others were different, of course. Genesis had always adhered to the principle of reckless ambition, pushing himself, charging blindly ahead through every obstacle, menacing the competition with ruthless abandon. Glenn had viewed the world with more innocent eyes, convinced of some higher morality beneath the ugliness. Some grand duty of atonement, braving the harsh realities of the world with a sense of hope, resolution.

But they were gone now. Genesis was sick. And Glenn...well, Glenn couldn't help him anymore. Not at all.

Sephiroth closed his eyes, felt the shape of the wind. It rattled against the heavy weight of his armor, the great pauldrons slumping, calloused hands opening and closing again.

He stroked the marker. He withered. He wondered.

"You were different."

Zack had clipped the words together in the stone, etched the scraggly shape of a name through the craggy surface. Sephiroth could feel it against his palm.

"You were different from them. You were content where you were."

Black feathers at his feet.

"You knew yourself. You knew what you wanted. You worked for it on your own terms. On your own time. I respected that."

The crow called again. Louder.

"You...you always knew what you were doing. You understood the world. You understood people. You were always there, always present in the moment. That's what I always admired about you."

Louder. He shut his eyes and went away. It always made things easier. Especially now. There were better places. Better eras. Fragments. Better views and footfalls.

"I don't understand why this happened."

Any place but here. He could go. He could let his mind vanish. He could fall away.

Or apart.

"I don't understand..."

He was going, yes. Going away. Far away. Far back. Tumbling down. He was somewhere else now. And there was solace. Recollection. Warm hands. Foggy lamplight. The comforting press of bodies in a crowded booth, the smell of cheap beer and smoke. Sephiroth had met those dark blue Mako eyes once, met the golden moment between laughter and shy awareness. A timid duck of the head. Finger against his cheek, brushing away the faint wisp of a stray eyelash, murmur mild, yet perplexingly resolute.

And ghosts.

Pearly ghosts that shimmered like tears.

"Life's too short for regrets, Seph."

And a heaviness in his chest. A heaviness that clung. A heaviness that claimed him. A heaviness that brought him back just as quickly. Sephiroth's fingers rooted, scraped the rock. He bit his lip, fought the urge to strike, to break away.

"I don't understand."

His nails were bleeding. He didn't notice.

"I didn't want...this, Angeal. You know I didn't."

The wind rose and fell, collecting on the mountaintop, stirring through the trees.

"Don't you see...I have nothing but regrets."

Birdsong in the fields, small black specks that darted and circled through the brush, the shadowed ridges.

"What am I supposed to do now? Angeal. Tell me. What am I supposed to do?"

Hojo would have mocked him, subjected him to a litany of petty insults for his weakness. Strong soldiers did not break. Strong soldiers did not fall to their knees in the ice, cradle the cold stone with their bare hands. Sephiroth felt the angry rush of vertigo hitting him, his head spinning, the unpleasant lurch of his stomach rising as he clenched his teeth and counted. There was acid in his throat, the words threatening to spill, blame and hurt and broken admission. And all around him, the hills and mountains seemed to tilt and sway; arching black claws that scraped the clouds. He watched them spiraling all around them, watched the jagged, looming lines converging, splitting the sky. Could they cut the world? Could they tear into that listless gray void, rip apart the sun and stars and the cramping confines of space and time? Could they revive the dead? Could they even hear him?

Sephiroth didn't want to guess. The noise that arose was not entirely human. He wasn't even sure if it was completely his own. He did not initially register the first speck of white that flecked against his cheek, the tiny sprinkling shower making its gradual descent, painting the sterile earth like ash. Pale dots that drifted across the stone, working through the grooves, the grainy, half-scrawled markings that composed the dead man's crude, weather-worn epitaph.

It was snowing.

Sephiroth coughed. He wiped his mouth. He lifted his head back to the sky, icy flakes dusting the thick black slant of his eyelashes. He watched the spectacle, counted every steady, starlit trail, caught them on his palm, his fingertips. They coated his shoulders, his hair, his cheeks. Bitter water on his tongue. Bitter words farther beneath.

"Angeal."

It felt like rain.

"Angeal."

It wasn't.

"Angeal, are you crying?"

And that was somehow worse.

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #crisis core #sephiroth #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #glenn lodbrok #fanfiction #ao3 #sephgeal #angst #LET'S GET FUCKED UP #Angeal's death

57 notes · View notes

wonderwolffs · 1 year

Text

Only Have Eyes For You

A/N: Toto only has eyes for you… short and sweet but pure fluff 🥰

Proudly, you’ve stood by Toto’s side for the last three years, a whirlwind romance from girlfriend to fiancée and most recently his wife: Mrs. Wolff. He knew from the minute he laid eyes on you that you were the one.

You couldn’t help but beam with pride every time something or someone, written or verbal made reference to your last name, or being struck in awe by the rock on your finger daily, everything reminding you of the man you were grateful to share your life with. Not just together but as a family unit, being there for his elder children, Benedict and Rosa, whenever they needed you. It was perfect.

Both having high pressured jobs, attending races together was tricky but the ones where you could be in his company for a full weekend, were the best ones, especially on home soil: Austria.

Not loosing sight of each other day after day, entering the paddock, cuddled close and everyone knew you both were the ‘it’ couple, a term you’d gladly accept. Planting kisses to your temple, your head resting on his shoulder, reaching the garage.

“Laters, baby” uttered as a whisper leaving both of your lips, heading your separate ways as Toto and the rest of team prepared for the race. Fifty Shades certainly wasn’t either of your favourites, but the phrase held meaning.

You occupied Toto’s office for a couple of hours until a few minutes before the race, always punctual giving yourself time to head back and set sorted before ‘lights out’. Sitting in the VIP enclosure, sat right across from your man, a mere few feet away is a view you’d never tire of - a very good excuse to admire him from a far, arms crossed, shirt sleeves rolled up showcasing his toned forearms with a few buttons undone while he concentrated on a various screens in-front of him and in your mind, you’d take him right then and there but of course imagination was different from reality and you quickly cleared your throat to pause those wild thoughts for a wee while longer.

Mercedes finished mid way in the points, which was a positive result given an unfortunate start to the season. Toto wrapped his arms around your waist “Just a few press interviews and that’s me finished for the day, darling”.

You smile and look up to him in response “Take all the time you need”.

As he leaves for his final duties, it gave you the perfect moment to tackle your cunning plan. A few weeks prior, you’d enlisted the help of Rosa, Toto’s PA to make sure you had everything you needed. Counting each item, you headed upstairs and into the bathroom. Undressing yourself, then into the appropriate attire. Timing it just right as you see Toto set up for his final interview, it’s go time.

You exit the garage and walk by the media pen, all heads turning when they see you head to toe in Dirndls - traditional Austrian clothes, for women. Toto couldn’t believe it when he looked up as you patiently waited for him beside the team signage - it took everything it his power not to run to you then and there, rather composing himself to complete the final question… quickly.

“So, tell us Toto what does it mean to be here in Austria? Not only is it home for you but we see your wife is here too, which must be lovely”

“It means everything and now I can go home and unwind, maybe even celebrate. As for my brilliant wife, when she’s with me, it’s like my good luck charm and today proved that as we’re in the best form yet”. He says with a light chuckle. “If you’ll excuse me, that’s who I’m going to see right now”.

#toto wolff #f1 x reader #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #f1 fanfic #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff drabble #f1 tumblr #f1 imagine #wonder wolff works

840 notes · View notes

icyg4l · 3 months

Text

PAC: How Can You Attract Your Lover: Queer Edition

Hello beautiful people! Today marks the last Friday that I will be posting for a while. However, I’ll still be here for the remainder of the weekend. If you would like to purchase a reading, please message me privately. Today’s reading is the last post regarding Pride Month. Thank you all for supporting me financially and content-wise. It is much appreciated. Without further ado, please select your pile.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You’re not boring at all, Pile One. You are just very particular with the way that you want things. You may feel like your love life is an “abomination” right now but it’s not. You are fixed in your conviction of what love looks like for you. However, you need to open your eyes. Love will not find its way to you if you keep trying to manipulate the situation. Keep an open mind of what’s out there. Be open to flings and short-term romances. In my mind’s eye, I am seeing a butterfly open its wings, getting ready to fly. I heard the “Empire State Building”. If you have been thinking of taking a weekend trip to New York or New Orleans, then you should do so. You will meet someone there. This person has a Coca-Cola smile and piercing eyes waiting for you to arrive.

Who: This person is tall, not average tall either. They’re abnormally tall. They’re into anime/cartoons. They have distinctive features as well. They are fluent in French. This person could be into watching cooking shows/MTV. They are sensual and suave. They are intuitive, very in touch with themselves. They could wear a dangly earring. They could definitely live in New York or have an obsession with “The Big Apple”. They could have ties to the military. They are quick-moving. They like to flirt with others. They love to smoke, and they have an oral fixation.

Cards Used: The Tower, Five of Swords, Page of Wands, Judgment, The Star, Eight of Wands, Nine of Wands, Queen of Cups, Queen of Wands.

Pile Two: You need to stop being so uptight! Let loose and groove a little bit, Pile Two. You need to go out dancing with your friends. You will enjoy it there. You will meet someone there who catches your attention. They will be watching you from afar. I am seeing the Barbie movie dance scene, where everyone is having a good time until Barbie starts having an existential crisis. Your boredom is preventing you from seeing how good you really have it. You have the gift of gab so use it! It is also easy for you to manifest through the utilization of your physical body, if you know what I mean. So, if you wanna manifest using the ‘o’ method, DO IT!!! Start doing things that you would typically shy away from. Aim to step away from the crowd.

Who: This person is a little younger than you. They could be on the petite side. They have a cockiness to them that can’t be turned off. They could own a motorcycle. They have impulse issues/have ADHD/ADD. They like to do things quick and fast. They move and talk like they have somewhere to be. They could have long fingernails (stilettos, if acrylic). They could have some sort of connection to Cardi B/Left Eye. They have a dream where they’re the head of the spaceship; they want to pioneer a project. They are extra-terrestrial simply put.

Cards Used: Strength, Eight of Cups, The Sun, Four of Cups, Six of Pentacles, Three of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, The Empress, Eight of Wands, Page of Swords, Six of Wands.

Pile Three: It feels as though you are healing from a past heartbreak. Give yourself time to move past that situation, Pile Three. Sit in the discomfort. Trying to avoid it will not make the time pass by quicker. You need to lick your wounds. If anyone tries to artificially speed up your process of healing, do not hesitate to cut them off. You need to take this time of seclusion to sit with yourself and ask: “How can things be different the next time around”? Forgive yourself for allowing the mistreatment. You have a long road to go down on this journey of self-forgiveness babe. Hug yourself but also hold yourself accountable. You need to do some serious shadow work, Pile Three.

Who: They have a lot of tattoos. Their eyes are warm and dreamy. They have luscious hair. They could like the movie ‘Mean Girls’. They take a lot of pride in being your partner. They stand on business. They have a good relationship with their father. Dignity, pride, sensibility are words that come up to align them with. They have good manners. They could be kind of cold, at first but don’t judge a book by its cover. This person is drop dead gorgeous, no matter what their gender is. They have a tender heart. They like to move with a purpose. They are calculated, and value their time and money. This person is marriage material.

Cards Used: Seven of Swords, The Chariot, The High Priestess, The Devil, The Emperor, Ten of Swords, King of Cups, Knight of Swords, Knight of Cups, Two of Cups, King of Pentacles, King of Swords.

Pile Four: I can tell that you just need a break, Pile Four. You need to go and move on from whatever has been affecting you negatively (emphasis on the has been). Let bygones be bygones. Air out your grievances. You will feel much lighter. Send that text message you’ve been meaning to send. Reconcile with that person you’ve been pondering on letting back in. There’s dead weight on you. Let it go. You would benefit a lot from twerking/whining/moving your hips. Let it all out. Even if you do something you regret, so what? We’re all human. Just live your life, babe.

Who: This is someone you have a spiritual connection with. It could be karmic. This person is not naive. They know a lot about religion or spirituality. They are big on tradition. They want marriage; a traditional wedding to be exact. They could be going through a time of abstinence right now. They have a masculine flair to them. This person could have multiple ear piercings and/or an eyebrow piercing. They are intimidating, but they are fun to be around once you get to know them. This person is well-respected and adored by many. They are psychic, and proud of it. And, they take their job seriously.

Cards Used: Eight of Cups, Queen of Cups, The Sun, The Empress, Knight of Wands, Page of Pentacles, The High Priestess, King of Wands, The Hierophant.

60 notes · View notes

gaylordscooter · 6 months

Text

Direct Hit Through the Soul

Despite living together for months now, Killer and Dust still had their fights. Ironically enough, they were arguably the closest in the group.

These fights weren't exactly sparring matches between friends where they'd show off their bullet patterns. It was more like blowing off steam. Having high LV had consequences, after all.

They didn't exactly want to kill anyone, but the urge was there. Gaining EXP was addictive and they were essentially experiencing withdrawal. Fortunately for Horror, their urges were directed at each other and not him.

Killer and Dust were evenly matched in terms of power—they made Horror seem as weak as a Whimsun. Regardless, Horror would typically supervise their fights and call it off when they get too close to actually dusting the other.

This time, however, Horror was not here to supervise.

The forest was a mess. Without having to worry without collateral damage the two let loose.

Trees were uprooted, rocks were broken, plenty of scorch marks from blasters plastered the dirt.

This time, Dust started the fight and he intended to finish it.

He slammed Killer into a tree using blue magic. His soul pulsed wildly like it wanted to run away but Killer was giggling like a gossiping middle schooler.

Dust closed in on him, ready to deal the final blow.

Killer used the last of his energy to swing his knife at his neck, but Dust caught his wrist and wrenched the knife out of his hand.

He inspected the knife as if to taunt him.

Killer immediately knew he was planning to use his own knife against him yet that dumb smile stayed plastered on his face.

Dust adjusted his grip on the knife, getting ready. His eyelights were right on his soul.

The knife pierced through his soul and into his sternum.

Killer didn't make a sound. He didn't even flinch. He reacted as if it didn't hurt at all.

Dust checked his HP. He only had a tenth of his HP left. There was a rush of excitement that came from bringing him so close to death.

And then Killer laughed. It was like he heard the funniest joke of his life.

Dust released his hold on his soul, causing him to fall on the ground as he continued.

“i can't believe that didn't kill me!” he finally exclaimed. “a direct hit through the soul! do you know how much care you need to have for that to not kill?!”

Dust looked down at him, deadpan, debating on whether or not to speak. Surely it was obvious enough to Killer that their fights weren't actually to the death.

Then again, Horror would always have to step in after Killer got a nasty hit on him. Had it been Killer that won today, would he still be standing?

The knife was still lodged in his chest.

“did all those make out sessions make you soft?? i’m flattered, really, but if our positions were switched you’d be your namesake right now.” He stood up, looking at the knife still impaling him, probably wondering how the hell to get it out without dusting.

Or not, because his hand moved straight to the handle with obvious intent to yank it out as if it were a mere splinter.

Dust grabbed his wrist with a very audible sigh.

“you're right, that would kill me,” Killer replied, bringing his hand away from the handle. For once in his life, he actually guessed correctly what Dust was thinking. “guess i’ll have that there forever, i’ll have to name it. what about uhh, mildred?”

Dust blankly stared at him.

“yeah, that’s a dumb name. maybe something fierce, like debbie.”

Dust rolled his eyelights and brought his hand close to his soul.

Now was the time Killer decided to flinch. “woah, hey, whatcha doing?”

Dust paused and spelled “heal” with his other hand.

“you can use healing magic?” Killer asked in disbelief. He lost his ability to use healing magic long ago, and even back then he was horrible at it. He couldn't even heal Papyrus after he scratched his knee from a fall. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't proficient at magic in general. There was a reason why he resorted to using primarily knives.

Dust answered by demonstrating.

Killer watched in intrigue as he felt his HP rise. It didn't look like Dust was doing anything but holding his hand near his soul. He wondered how it worked.

And then the usual target-shape of his soul shifted into the shape of a normal monster soul.

Killer's breath hitched and Dust’s eye sockets widened.

Killer shoved him away. He wasn't fully healed yet but he was at half at least. He yanked the knife out with a hiss. He could feel the pain. It wasn't the numb pins-and-needles feeling he’d usually have instead.

“what the hell did you do?” he asked. It was like the floodgates to his emotions were smashed open. “what the fuck did you do?!” he repeated, brandishing the knife coated in his own marrow.

“i was just healing you,” Dust muttered.

“my soul’s an entirely different shape!” he barked.

“it's the shape of a normal monster soul now.”

“well, it ain’t normal for me!”

“why are you freaking out?”

Killer backed away from Dust as he tried to put a hand on his shoulder. It felt like the world was spinning and it was disorienting.

Why was he freaking out? Because he could now. He was able to and that threw him off. He was so used to pretending and faking it he forgot what it actually felt like to have emotions.

It was almost like he was Sans again, but he knew he was still only an echo of him. What was more apparent is that he had no control over his emotions.

He felt guilt. He felt confused. He even felt love towards Dust. But fear overwhelmed him the most.

And then his soul reverted to his usual shape and the world stilled.

Dust was looking at him weird as if he had any right to.

“never do that again,” Killer said. He took off to the castle without another word.

Dust suspected he was going straight to his room. He probably wasn't going to leave it for the rest of the day either. He was sure that wasn't the first time Killer’s soul changed shape. There was that night they decided they could hang out without any drugs. His soul was all sorts of shapes that night, but notably it was that same upside down heart shape by the end of the night. He wasn't sure why it was such a big deal to him now. Maybe he never noticed before.

I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU COULDN’T FINISH HIM OFF.

He was pretty sure if he killed him Nightmare would kill him too.

THAT WASN’T THE ONLY REASON YOU COULDN’T KILL HIM.

God forbid he cares about someone.

THAT “SOMEONE” IS A DIRTY BROTHER KILLER.

He didn't give a shit about that at this point no matter how much the stupid voice in his head would try to say otherwise.

HE’S PERFECT FOR YOU. BECAUSE HE’S UTTERLY HORRIBLE.

He agreed with the second part. He is horrible.

HE’S GOING TO HURT YOU. HE ALREADY HAS.

Killer entered the kitchen, stumbling around. At first Horror thought he was drunk or something and then he noticed how low his HP was.

“didja get hit by a truck?” he asked. Usually he’d be concerned for his safety, but this was Killer. It was a common occurrence for something like this to happen.

“yeah,” he deadpanned. He rummaged through the pantry and took out a bag of chips. He opened the bag by popping it. Somehow that ended up working out for him.

Horror grimaced at the loud noise. “you gotta stop opening chip bags that way.”

Killer shoved a handful of chips into his mouth, crunching loudly in reply.

Horror groaned, shaking his head disapprovingly. “where's dust at? don't tell me you killed him.”

“he won the fight, actually,” he said with his mouth full. “drove my knife right through my soul.”

Horror's sockets went blank in shock. “he did?” He looked at him as if he’d crumble into a pile of dust at any moment.

“yeah,” he chuckled, “isn’t that pathetic? he couldn't kill me with a hit to the soul.”

“how high’s your defense?” It was a dumb question, but he asked anyway.

“doesn't matter. that would’ve killed me no matter what, unless he didn't intend to, and here i am standing here.”

If there was a single part of Dust that wanted him dead he wouldn't be standing, much less alive. Killer didn't know why that was so shocking to him, that he survived that. Sure, they've been living together for awhile and got all buddy-buddy, but to Killer it was all an act—turned out he was the only one acting.

Any malice would’ve killed him. So how did he survive?

The answer was obvious yet he still couldn’t believe it.

“so, where's he now?”

Killer shrugged, pouring more of the chips into his mouth. “i left him in the forest,” he said, voice muffled.

Horror’s eye darted to the windows as if he'd be able to see Dust from here. “what's the deal with you two anyway?”

“huh?”

“you two fight nearly to the death and yet you hang out almost every night.” He vividly remembered that time he was woken up by the sound of a blaster. Nightmare was pretty mad about that.

“it's something to do.” He shrugged again.

“so you're just using him for entertainment?”

Killer scoffed, “you say that like i haven't told you two repeatedly that i don't feel anything.” Finished with the chips, he crumpled up the bag and tossed it to the trash bin, missing.

“which you're obviously lying about,” he challenged. “besides, you don't have to exploit him like that.”

“psh, you're acting like he's not a powerful monster that almost killed me a second ago,” he said nonchalantly.

Horror glared at him, standing straight instead of slouching to gain an edge on him. “let's say you don’t feel anything, then. you toy with dust, acting like you have a little crush on him. and it annoyed him at first, but ever since that night we played truth or dare something changed—he started to like you.”

“no he didn't,” Killer hissed.

“but you, who ‘can’t feel anything’, never liked him in the first place. you lead him on, purposefully.”

“it's not—we’re not, there are no feelings between us. it's just hedonism, an inside joke, even. you wouldn't get it.”

The door to the kitchen opened.

Killer perked up at the sight of Dust. “tell him, dust. i didn't lead you on, there aren't any feelings between us.”

Dust ignored him and walked straight to the hallway. He slammed the door when he left.

“that was very convincing,” Horror said sarcastically.

“shut up!” Killer snipped. “he just didn’t feel like talking.”

Horror gave him a stern look. “you being dense on purpose?”

Killer ground his teeth and grumbled incoherently.

“i’m taking that as a yes.”

“‘m going to my room,” he mumbled and took off.