#then i had to be like “no...” and then trail off vaguely because idk how i would explain my fic to her lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wholoveseggs · 1 year ago

Note

hi! I see you have a bunch of requests so I’m sorry to request but do you think you could write an Elijah angst with fluff ? Like y/n is upset because she thinks that elijah likes Hayley but he’s actually in love with her and has been for centuries but has always been too scared to tell her.

Always

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Upon your unexpected appearance at the compound, centuries after being presumed dead, Elijah has to grapple with feelings he long buried and the consequences that come with it.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) & @vervain3 ♡♡ - I combined all three ideas and made a jealousy triangle {square? circle? idk}~

3k words - Warnings: a little smutty right at the end, drama, angst, jealousy... vaguely refer to events from season 2 & 3... Klaus interfering & loving all the drama (Regina George energy)

It was a rare thing for Elijah Mikaelson to fall in love, but when he did, it was forever. In his one thousand years of living he could count on one hand the number of times his heart had truly belonged to someone else and he could recall, with exact detail, everything about them.

There was Tatia, the first woman he ever fell for, and then there was Katerina, or Katherine, who was a thorn in his side and a constant source of regret.Then Celeste came into the picture, a beautiful and powerful witch, her loss and betrayal still a bitter taste in his mouth.

And then there was you, the brightest light in his dark life. Your face still burned brightly in his memories and your name still danced on his tongue like the sweetest melody. You did things to him that no one else could, dissolving his burdens with just a smile.

You had captured his heart with just one look and he had been yours, mind, body, and soul. He was so in love with you, it hurt.

So when you died, he was shattered, torn apart and left to deal with the pain alone. He would see your face everywhere, haunting him and reminding him of his failure to protect the one he loved. To never be able to tell you how he felt was the most painful thing of all.

Centuries had passed since he lost you, his grief now a dull ache in his heart, but nothing had ever truly made the pain go away.

Hayley's presence in his life mended the broken pieces somewhat, but they were still damaged. His feelings for the hybrid would never be enough to erase the ghost of his love for you.

He accepted being content with what he had, knowing he didn't deserve anything more. That he was lucky to have met his soul mate, even if you were never truly his. To know that true love was real, if not fleeting.

So when he saw you, sitting on the sofa in the courtyard, laughing and chatting with Klaus, his heart stopped. He wondered if he was imagining you again, if his mind was playing a cruel trick on him.

But you turned, your gaze meeting his and the world stopped. He felt his knees grow weak, and his heart race.

You were real, you were here, you were alive.

And you looked just as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

But there was a bit of a problem, he was with Hayley now. You were back and he didn't know how to feel about that.

"Elijah, how long has it been? You look well." You greet him with a smile, pulling him in for a hug.

Elijah hesitated before wrapping his arms around you, inhaling the scent that he had thought he'd never experience again. He couldn't help but hold you a little tighter, afraid that if he let you go, you'd disappear.

"Y/N," he whispers softly.

You pull back, noticing the way his eyes seem to burn brighter, full of emotions you couldn't read.

"How are you? I haven't seen you since..." you trail off.

"Since you died," he finishes, his eyes looking at you curiously.

"Since you left me behind," you corrected him.

Elijah frowned, not understanding what you were talking about. The night Mikael returned, you were killed and your body burnt, at least, that's what Klaus had told him.

"Klaus said you were killed, we didn't have time to retrieve your body."

You shake your head. "That wasn't me, he was mistaken."

"So where were you?" he asked, still unable to believe you were really here.

"Here and there," you said with a smile, none of that mattered now.

You always had a soft spot for Elijah, when you first met him and his family, you found him to be so stoic and melancholic. You delighted in making him laugh, his smile lighting up his whole face and giving him the air of youth and carefreeness that you knew he had buried deep within him.

Nothing ever happened between you, he tended to fall for more serious types. But you never stopped loving him, he was always going to be the one you couldn't forget.

"You're as bad as Niklaus," Elijah said, chuckling lightly.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you grinned.

You were interrupted by a beautiful brunette with stunning hazel eyes, she walked up and placed her hand on Elijah's shoulder, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Y/N, this is Hayley," Elijah introduced, his hand going to rest on her back.

Of course, you thought. She was exactly his type, beautiful and fierce.

You gave her a small smile, shaking her hand.

"How do you know Elijah?" she asked, curious.

"We met a very long time ago, in another place," you answered, giving Elijah a sidelong glance. "In another life."

Hayley looked between the two of you, sensing there was more to your relationship than you were letting on. She wasn't going to let you anywhere near what was hers.

"What brings you here? To New Orleans, I mean?"

"I heard the original family has settled here and I wanted to catch up with old friends," you replied. "But mostly, I'm just passing through,"

Hayley frowned, "old friends," she repeated, her hand tightening around Elijah's shoulder.

She had only just met you, but already, she knew she didn't like you. You seemed to have a permanent smirk on your face that reminded her of Klaus, and that made her distrust you instantly. And the way Elijah was looking at you made her feel uneasy, she had never seen him look so...happy.

"Oh," Elijah's expression faltered, his disappointment barely noticeable. "You're leaving?"

"Well, I don't want to overstay my welcome," you joked, your eyes flickering to Hayley's.

"How about you join us tonight for dinner," Klaus said, walking up and joining the group, he always knew exactly how to make an awkward situation worse. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

You gave him a small smile. "Sure,"

When you arrived for dinner, you were surprised by the amount of people Klaus had invited. It was a bit of a relief, it would mean that you didn't have to be alone with Elijah and Hayley.

Klaus stood at the head of the table, making introductions, there were a number of vampires and werewolves present, including a werewolf alpha named Jackson and a handsome vampire named Marcel.

You greeted them all politely, before taking a seat next to Marcel.

"Y/N, this is my dear friend Marcellus," Klaus greeted, "you two have a remarkable amount in common."

Marcel smiles, "hello, beautiful."

"Hi," you smiled back, your eyes lingering on his, he had a killer smile and a charm to him that was difficult to resist.

You were glad to have someone to talk to, you could tell Marcel had a great sense of humor and you enjoyed his company. You also found yourself attracted to him, he was definitely your type.

"So, how do you know the Mikaelsons?" Marcel asked, a little confused. "I didn't think they had any friends outside their family,"

"Klaus turned me centuries ago, when they were hiding out in my town." You explain, taking a sip of your wine. "They needed allies, so he made some of us into vampires."

"Ahh, been there, done that." Marcel replied with a smile, leaning in closer, his hand brushing against yours.

Elijah watched from the other end of the table, his eyes flickering between the pair, his stomach knotting with every touch and look exchanged between you.

You didn't miss his glances, or his frowns, and you wondered what his problem was. He had his gorgeous girlfriend by his side, why was he looking at you this way?

Klaus delighted in the growing jealousy he could see bubbling up inside Elijah. He knew his brother had always loved you, but never made a move. And now, he was paying for it.

Klaus watched as you flirted with Marcel, enjoying the sight of Elijah growing increasingly frustrated.

"They seem cozy, how cute," he mused, his eyes gleaming.

"Yes, it appears that way," Elijah replied, his jaw clenching.

Hayley smiled at you and Marcel, "they’d make a good couple,"

"Would they?" Elijah asked, a hint of irritation in his tone.

Hayley didn't notice, she was too busy watching the way your eyes lingered on each other's and the way Marcel leaned in close and whispered in your ear, making you laugh.

Elijah didn't miss the spark in your eyes as you spoke with Marcel, the way your face lit up and the way his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

He wanted to rip his heart out.

He felt himself growing angrier by the minute, his hands clenched and his jaw tight. He could barely keep up with the conversation, his attention focused on you, his jealousy eating away at him.

There you were, so close, your laughter filling the air, the sound he had been longing to hear for so long. And he was stuck sitting across from you, watching you get closer to another man.

"Jackson, tell me about this ritual you mentioned earlier," Klaus said, interrupting Elijah's thoughts.

"Well," Jackson began, looking between Hayley and Elijah awkwardly. "It could possibly give the pack hybrid-like abilities,"

Hayley smiled, "that's exactly what we need Klaus, an army to protect our child."

"What would this ritual involve?" Elijah asked, trying to distract himself from the sound of your laughter.

"A marriage," Jackson answered. "Between myself and Hayley,"

"A marriage?" Hayley asked, confused. "I thought this was just a ritual?"

Jackson shook his head, "in order for it to work, we need to marry,"

Hayley frowned, looking between Jackson and Elijah. She wasn't sure how she felt about the idea of marrying anyone but Elijah, but she had no choice, she would do anything for her daughter.

"It would give us the power and numbers we need," Klaus agreed. "We could protect Hope from anyone who wished her harm."

Elijah felt strangely relieved, despite knowing how selfish it was. He thought he loved Hayley, that her marrying another would bother him, but he was more bothered by the way Marcel was touching you, he realized that his feelings for Hayley weren't enough.

He still loved you, and he always would.

"I guess that's it then," Hayley sighed, glancing over at Elijah, wondering what was going through his mind.

"We can discuss it further tomorrow, but I'm sure it's something that would benefit us all," Elijah said, his voice steady.

Hayley nodded, her heart breaking at his indifference. She didn't understand, she had hoped he would argue against it, at least a little bit, but it appeared she was mistaken.

She glanced over at you, seeing the way you kept looking at Elijah. She realized that your presence had shifted something in her relationship, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger towards you.

After dinner, everyone had a drink or two and mingled. Elijah and Hayley found a private corner to chat about her wedding, their conversation awkward and strained, filled with hidden meanings.

"Are you alright?" Elijah asked, noticing the pain in her eyes.

"Yeah, fine." Hayley nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "I just thought you would... I dunno... Protest the wedding more."

Elijah hesitated, "we need to do whatever we can to bring home Hope." He spoke carefully, "you know that I... care for you."

Hayley looked away, trying to hide the hurt on her face. He 'cared for' her, but it wasn't enough.

"You care for me," she repeated, her voice lacking the inflection of surprise. "But you don't love me, do you?"

She looked up at him, their eyes locking. He looked at her sadly, the regret in his eyes telling her all she needed to know.

"You'll always have a place in my heart, Hayley," he said. "It's just-"

"She's back," she finished, nodding sadly. "You've always loved her."

Elijah didn't respond, instead he simply stared at her, their eyes full of unspoken words, unshed tears and the promise of a life together that would never be.

Hayley took a breath, blinking back her tears.

"I should probably go and join the others," she said, turning to walk away. "I'll… see you around,”

Elijah released a breath, running his hand through his hair. He stood there, debating whether he should go over and talk to you.

Hayley could tell from the way you'd been looking at him that your feelings for him were the same. She was hurt, and a little drunk, and a more than a bit angry.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw Marcel whisper something in your ear, his hand resting on your shoulder. You seemed to have every man here wrapped around your finger instantly, even Elijah.

Hayley walked up to you, her eyes flashing. "It's incredible how you just return out of the blue and have every man here panting at your heels."

You raised an eyebrow, not expecting the hostility.

"I'm sorry, have I offended you in some way?" You asked, giving her a confused look.

"No, you're just a slut who can't seem to keep her hands off the men around here." Hayley snapped.

You looked at her in surprise, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Marcel and I were only flirting," you replied.

Hayley glared at you, her fists clenching. You could see the rage burning in her eyes, and you were tempted to push her further, just to see how far you could take it. But before you could, Jackson was by her side, a worried look on his face.

"Come on Hayley, let's get some air," he said, pulling her away from you.

Marcel watched as they left, his arm draped around your shoulders.

"What was that about?" He asked, glancing down at you.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you shrugged, your gaze drifting over to Elijah.

He was looking at you as well, his eyes wide and searching, as if he couldn't believe you were really there.

"I'm sorry Marcel, I think I'm going to turn in early," you said, smiling apologetically. "It's been a long day."

Marcel nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Call me sometime, if you're interested," he said with a grin, winking playfully.

"Sure, thanks." You nodded, returning his smile.

You made your way over to Klaus, thanking him for the dinner, and bidding him a goodnight. You then approached Elijah, a small smile on your face, your heart pounding.

"It's wonderful to see you, after all these years," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

"You too, Elijah." You said, giving him a genuine smile.

"I want to show you something, before you go." He said, extending his hand out to you.

You hesitated, glancing down at his hand, a part of you afraid to get your hopes up, to believe that he saw you as more than a friend. But when your eyes met his, you could see something in his gaze, and it gave you the confidence you needed to take his hand.

"Lead the way,"

Elijah gave you a small smile, leading you to his study. He walked over to his desk, searching around until he pulled out a wooden box.

He placed it on the desk, opening the lid. Inside was a pendant necklace, a gold chain with a small emerald medallion hanging from it, with your initials engraved.

You hadn't seen it in centuries, not since the night you parted, and the sight of it brought a flood of emotions crashing down.

"You kept it," you whispered, your eyes stinging with tears.

"Of course," Elijah replied, his voice quiet, a smile playing on his lips. "It was yours, it belongs with you."

Your fingers gently grazed the pendant, the cool metal a reminder of your human life. It was given to you by your mother, the only thing you had left of her. You had treasured it, and when it broke, Elijah had offered to get it fixed for you.

But when Mikael arrived and you were separated, you thought it was forever lost.

"You got it fixed," you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

"Yes, it was important to you." Elijah replied, his voice soft, a smile on his face.

"After all these years, after everything, why did you keep it?" You asked, confused.

"It was all I had left of you," he replied, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed, unable to speak, your throat tight and your chest aching. You'd never imagined he'd held onto such a keepsake, a reminder of you he held onto for centuries after he believed you to be dead.

Elijah gently picked up the necklace, placing it around your neck, his hands lingering.

"I'm happy to return this to you," he whispered. "It's where it belongs."

Your hand went up to the pendant, tears streaming down your cheeks. You turned to face him and his hand cupped your cheek, wiping away the tears. You leaned into his touch, his skin warm against yours.

He stared into your eyes, his expression filled with emotion, his heart beating erratically.

"I want you to know that I..." his voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words. "That I have never forgotten you."

"I never forgot you either," you whispered, your gaze dropping to his lips, your own parting.

He leaned in slowly, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft, gentle, as they pressed against yours, you both sighed, melting into each other. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

He moved you back until you hit the desk, his lips moving down your neck, nipping and kissing, causing you to moan. Your hands grasped at his clothes, tugging him closer, desperate for him.

Elijah lifted you onto the desk, pushing his body between your legs, his hardness pressed against you. His mouth was on yours again, his hands roaming your body, exploring every inch.

"Wait, wait," you panted, breaking the kiss. "You are with Hayley,"

Elijah paused, his eyes locked with yours, his chest heaving. "Not anymore."

You stared at him, confusion and desire muddling your thoughts.

"What?" You managed, still struggling to catch your breath.

"We broke up, tonight," he explained, his voice husky, his hands caressing your thighs.

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind, but his closeness and his hands on your body were making it impossible to think. He kissed you again, his lips hungry, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you.

You moaned, arching into him, your hands roaming his body, pulling him closer. His hands tugged at your dress, hiking it up your thighs, moving your panties to the side.

"I want you," he muttered, his eyes dark, filled with lust.

You whispered his name as his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit. His mouth was on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, nibbling softly. You gasped, your hands grasping at his belt, trying desperately to undo it.

He pushed his pants and underwear down, his cock springing free. He positioned himself between your legs, easing into you slowly. Your eyes locked, both of you filled with an intense, desperate need for the other.

Elijah groaned, gripping the desk, his knuckles turning white, as he began thrusting into you, slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your moans filling the room.

His movements became faster, more frantic, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you. You felt yourself getting closer, your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming shallow.

His lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your thighs, holding them open. The desperate way he was fucking you was a testament to the feelings he held for you, and it only fueled your desire for him.

You moaned into his mouth as you came, your orgasm hitting you hard, making your body tremble, your muscles spasming.

Elijah buried his face in your neck, sinking his fangs into you as he let go, his body shuddering. You held him, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax.

"I've always loved you," he whispered.

"I love you, too." You replied, kissing his temple.

He kissed you again, his hands cradling your face. He smiled at you, his eyes filled with warmth, and a deep love that was reserved only for you.

It felt like coming home.

♡♡ Hayley is jealous of you -> you are jealous of Hayley -> Elijah is jealous of Marcel... & Marcel is too cool to care. ♡♡ ~What kind of jealously geometry is this??? I'm a writer not a mathematician lol~

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson smut #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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purinfelix · 1 year ago

Text

by midnight ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⊹₊ ⋆

pairing: carlos sainz x reader summary: you find yourself at one of the hottest parties on campus, eager to land a kiss before New Year strikes to avoid bad luck warnings: none w/c: 2.3k

a/n: i can't believe this is my first proper carlos fic even tho he's my fav driver - also is this a uni au ?? college au ?? sort of idk ... anw hope you all enjoy this and i wish you all a happy new year !! <333

As you stood in the corner of the dimly lit room, with no company other than the half-empty glass of red wine you’d been cradling for the past hour, you were beginning to question what you were doing at this New Year’s Eve party in the first place.

Of course, your mind was quick to point to the obvious reason - you had come because your friend asked you to. Because she had burst into your dorm room about a week ago with a sparkle in her eye and an invite to a party hosted by what she referred to as ‘high profile university elites’, which you understood as ‘popular kids who were yet to realise they’d already peaked in high school’. Nonetheless, her eagerness and incessant begging had somehow convinced you to trail along with her to the party and the numerous shopping trips preceding it.

You had to admit, there was a tiny part of you that was excited about it. You enjoyed going out and the occasional dance session but after an extremely stressful university semester you weren’t sure you could handle any more chaos or drama. But it was something different, something interesting - something to look forward to in the break routine your life had become. Especially since your friend seemed very insistent on the possibility of you meeting some new “hot singles”, and whilst the dig at your uneventful love life didn’t go unnoticed you let it slip considering it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Maybe it was this possibility that had urged you to tag along with her, despite not knowing any of the hosts or people she had listed out. However, if it weren’t for her constant reassurance that she would be at your side the entire night, you probably wouldn’t be standing at the front door of whatever unlucky house had been chosen to host the event, so dressed up you felt a little silly. Your hands trembled slightly at your sides and you felt stupid at how nervous you were. But, as the door opened for you by a boy who looked like he had already had too much to drink from his crooked tie, you swallowed your nerves and reminded yourself that even if you knew no on else, you had your friend to lean on.

At least, until a mere hour had passed into the party and she was nowhere to be found. She had told you she was going to go introduce herself to some other people and that she’d be back to meet you in the corner where she had left you. And the last you saw of her she had been standing a little too close to a guy you vaguely recognised from one of your marketing lectures, and hand ultimately decided best to leave her to enjoy herself - even if that meant awkwardly taking up space, biding your time, and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Your friend had discussed at length, and much to your dismay, about how this wasn’t just any old New Year’s Eve party like one thrown at a frat house. Rather this was one organised by your university’s wealthiest, most popular, most talented students - which had been one of your biggest turn-offs from it initially. And as you leant against the corner of some vintage-looking wallpaper, you couldn’t help but observe the atmosphere that reeked of elitism, snobbery and daughter laughter. People around you chattered away without cares in the world, donning clothes that surely came from stores you weren’t wealthy enough to know of. Others danced in the centre of the dimly lit room, some moving with elegance and others waved their arms around, drunk on a mixture of whatever expensive bottles their peers had brought.

But, to your surprise, there was something - or rather someone - that managed to catch your eyes from the other side of the room. It was what seemed like the only other person not involved in some sort of conversation, dance circle, or the lips of whatever partner they had brought. And it seemed he had noticed you too by the way his deep brown eyes had locked onto yours, even in the shadowy lighting from where he sat on the cough. He was handsome, there was certainly no denying it, especially not when the eye contact and the slight quirk of his lips alone were enough to make your heart rate quicken. You took a shaky sip from your glass, watching as he ran a large hand through his dark hair that was styled in a way you could only describe as ‘princely’, the gold cufflinks on his shirt sleeve flashing as he did.

He’s way out of your league and your tax bracket, you remind yourself. But there’s something about the way this handsome stranger is looking at you that makes you feel compelled to him. Almost like he’s cast an invisible string around your waist and is slowly pulling you towards him. A grandfather clock in the corner tells you there’s less than half an hour until midnight and the strike of New Year’s, and until you can get out of here without missing too much. Half an hour to work up the courage to go up to him, talk to him, to do anything other than stand her paralysed under his intense, yet insanely attractive, gaze.

Your feet unstick themselves and go to take a step in his direction, until your friend appears suddenly around the corner, her hand already on your wrist. She’s talking to you about some people you “just have to meet”, half dragging you with her to the kitchen. But your eyes are still stuck on him, and he watches you go with an expression that’s equal parts amused and disappointed that your charged staring competition didn’t last longer.

You find yourself in a circle with three other people, forcing a smile on your face and trying your best to act as if you care while your friend introduces you to them. One’s an engineering major, the other in medicine, and the last you can’t even bother to remember, your brain busied with plans on how to get back to the lounge, and the handsome stranger. You nod incessantly as your new company drones on about final exams and papers, eager to have the conversation done with you.

“Well, seems like there’s not much time left until midnight,” one of them says, which catches your attention, and your friend laughs along.

“And you know what they say about a New Year’s kiss, hm?” she chimes in, “that failing to lock lips with anyone after the countdown will bring in a whole new year of loneliness!” She nudges your arm and you swallow the urge to make some excuse, settling on rolling your eyes with a resigned smile.

“You found the lucky guy yet?” the engineering major says, looking directly at you with a suggestive sort of look.

As if summoned by the question, you spot something out of the corner of your eye. A familiar tuft of dark hair snakes its way around the kitchen hallway - it’s him. Now that the two of you are standing you truly get a sense of how tall he is, and you can definitely see that the dark suit he’s wearing is doing his figure justice. He moves quickly, purposefully, as he pours himself another drink and is already making his way out of the kitchen. Though, not before looking back and shooting you a quick smile. The sight renders you incapable of speech and basic function, as you go to take a sip of your own drink and instead spill your glass’ remains onto your dress.

Your little circle erupts into groans and worried cries, your friend trying her best to laugh off the total fool you’ve made of yourself in front of them. Luckily though, it seems the handsome stranger didn’t stay long enough to witness your little accident, so you don’t mind too much as your friend ushers you off to one of the bathrooms, pushing past bodies that move along to the pulsing music. Your head throbs as your friend shoves you in and shuts the door behind her.

“I can’t believe you,” she sighs, grabbing handfuls of toilet paper and throwing them at you as you sit on the closed toilet seat, “that was so embarrassing, and you’ve completely ruined the dress we spent ages picking at.”

You clearly couldn’t care less as you dab at the large stain on your dress with indifference, as she paces back and forth and waves her hands around to express her frustration.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, they all seemed like assholes anyways,” you mutter. Your quip seems to calm her down as she takes a seat on the bathtub rim. She takes a moment to glance at her phone in her hand before letting out a tired sigh.

“And now there’s less than three minutes until midnight and neither of us is getting a New Year’s kiss.”

“There’s nothing keeping you in here with me, you know,” you say, a smile in your voice as you watch her expression turn hopeful.

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t really want to spend New Year’s Eve alone but I don’t want you to as well, I think I’ll manage.”

She lets out a squeal, pulling you in for a quick hug whilst being careful not to get any of the red wine you’ve spilled on your dress onto hers.

“I’ll meet you outside in half an hour,” is the last thing she says to you before turning and leaving the bathroom to rejoin the crowd that’s formed to count down the seconds until midnight. It’s almost funny that you’re alone once more, only now with a gigantic red stain and under the harsh white light of this lavishly decorated bathroom. Sitting back against the toilet, you close your eyes and try your best to enjoy this moment of peace, and ignore the fact that this may just signal another year of loneliness - as your friend mentioned. You can hear the partygoers outside getting ready, pulling out tiny confetti canons and ushering others into the lounge.

“10!”

“9!”

Suddenly, the door opens and you jerk up to scold your unwelcome intruder. That is until you notice it’s him, the handsome stranger. He looks equally surprised to see you until you realise he probably wasn’t expecting anyone to be sitting alone in the bathroom during the countdown to New Year’s. Your throat is dry but you still manage to croak out some form of a response.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, and you notice he’s almost panting. You gesture to the stain on your dress with an expression that says “duh”.

“Oh, right, well I just wanted to get away from all the chaos and loudness, you know.”

“8!” The crowd outside keeps going, and they seem to be getting louder.

“You didn’t find any lucky girl to kiss when midnight struck?” you say, trying your best to make light of how insanely awkward this interaction is. He rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his feet shyly.

“Well I did, she was standing in the corner of the room all alone,” he takes a couple of steps towards you and his voice is sheepishly quiet.

“7!”

“She sounds like a loner,” you retort and he lets out a dry laugh. You’re trying to play it cool and act as if you’re not dying to just kiss him already, because you know that’d be too forward, especially for someone like you at a party like this.

“Well, I thought she was beautiful, at least until she got dragged away by her friend.”

“6!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but then I saw her later in the kitchen talking to some guys and figured she’d be more interested in them.”

“5!”

“I’m sure they were boring,” you decide to play along with his game.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I’m sure she would’ve much rather been talking to you instead of them, and hearing her friend talk about how if she didn’t kiss someone by midnight she’d have to deal with another year of being single,” this catches his attention, his eyebrow quirking up alongside a smirk spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“4!”

“Yep, until she spilled a bunch of wine on this dress she bought and ended up in the bathroom trying to clean it off.”

“3!”

”Sounds unfortunate.” He’s towering over you now, looking down at you with a softness in his eyes and a playfulness in his tone.

“Extremely.”

“2!”

You finally find the strength to stand up too, and almost immediately his hand finds its way around a strand of your hair, twirling it absent-mindedly. It moves to your cheek, then your chin, which he cups softly so that he can look into your eyes properly. You feel on fire underneath his touch. At this distance, he’s breathtaking. His eyes are almost enchanting and you feel tiny underneath their gaze, swallowing a lump nervously. He watches you intently, eyes flickering between his own and your lips - it’s clear what he’s thinking.

“1!”

The crowd outside erupts into cheers and the popping of confetti canons, but you’ve forgotten about them immediately as his lips crash into yours with a passion you realise haven’t experienced in a while. It’s not forceful though, it’s too perfect to be anything else. His hands snake around your body and support you - almost lifting you up into him, and you let him, your body turned to jelly under his touch. All the night’s eye contact, the silent messaging, the tension, has been squeezed into this single kiss and it just about knocks you off of your feet. Finally though, your lips separate, and you feel so dazed you can hardly form words.

“Carlos,” he says heavily.

“Huh?” you mumble, mind still processing.

“My name, my name is Carlos.”

“Oh, right, Happy New Year Carlos.”

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #ferrari #formula one #carlos sainz fanfic #formula one fanfic #f1 #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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lynn-tged-posting · 6 months ago

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tged webtoon ep 154 spoilers n thoughts n all that yeah

HE DID THE THING HE DID THE >:3 THING YESS YAYYYY YAYAYAYAYY HAHAHAHAA

GOD HES SO FUCKING SILLY WAHAHAHA

jesus christ running from the cops every which way LMAO i really like their faces here javier w exasperation and lloyd just. being him

AND THE UGLY COSPLAYER BIT WHAT 😭 HELP LOL?? i guess cosplayers walking around isnt really a common thing in korea idk i feel like. they didnt really commit an offense until lloyd tried bribing that cop guy lol

like it makes me think back to dkc and how michael and the other guy (I FORGOT HIS NAME SORRY) went to seoul for a bit and kind of caused several accidents and i feel like that fits better w getting the cops attention compared to,,, rummaging thru trash? but also i am not familiar w korea's police system! nor do i know their policies on foreigners n whatnot so who am i to say yknow

i also really really wish that besides the cop chasing, we got to see a lil bit more of javier's reaction to seoul and its citizens, the clothing and the culture and how the buildings look, what does he think of them? whats his feelings on an environment so dissimilar to his own, and does he notice anything abt it that reminds him of lloyd and his sudden acquisition of all his knowledge? maybe theres more of that in the webnovel,,, itll be a while before i get there tho unfortunately

anyways thoughts aside more reacting

UUUAGHHHH JAVIER NOTICING EVERY SINGLE TIME LLOYD APPEARS SICK OR UNWELL BUT LLOYD BRUSHING IT OFF. EXPLODES INTO TEN BILLION PIECES. AAGHH AAGHHHH AAGHH screaming crying god that engineer needs a god damn hug

also them in civilian clothes! they look so dorky lmao the hats r super cute tho AND I REALLY LIKE THAT JAVIER HAS GLASSES THATS SO SILLY how can he see though wouldn't it be like vaguely blurry . most glasses are prescription,,, tho they did find this stuff discarded so maybe theyre just,,, decorative??? do people still wear decorative glasses???

i have more thoughts on their attire but it coincides with some thoughts i have for the latter half of this ep so i'll bring it up then!

THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE EPISODE THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL AAGHHH AAAHHH

i started tearing up oh my FUCKING god i feel so insane ohhhhhhhh ohhhhhhh my heart ohhghhh

trying to keep his bluff up all the way through even though he's visibly struggling im gonna throw up im gonna throw up

most if not all the panels in this latter half of the episode make me feel like this so i'll try not to be repetitive and jump straight into my thoughts LMAO

i think the way lloyd is drawn in these panels is really, REALLY well done, and not in just an "oh the art looks good" kind of way, but the choices they make with the posing and the camera angle makes me feel insane

because the moment we cut to the shot where they're on the trail, we do not see lloyd's entire face at ALL. the most we see is his nose and mouth, and that makes my heart squirm like a motherfucker, because who else did we see that way in the webtoon?

kim suho, all the way at the beginning.

we don't actually get to know suho's face until way, way later in the webtoon adaptation, which is once he's way more secure in his position as lloyd frontera

so seeing this,,, it's like we're thrown back to then, it's like LLOYD is thrown back to then, back to when he was just suho kim; someone who thought of himself as nothing, as someone who just couldn't function correctly in this world, and god does my heart ache

and lloyd right now feels it too, the anxieties he once had coming right back. and i think that makes the clothing choices for lloyd specifically really impactful too, specifically upper body

the blue poloshirt is eerily reminiscent of the blue tracksuit suho used to wear, and it's the layer underneath a green jacket with a collar similar to lloyd's usual coat. it's like a reminder to the reader that once upon a time, he was just suho wearing lloyd's mask in a strange, new world. i think this experience is a reminder of that to suho, too,,,

also, the bucket hat is able to cover most if not all of his hair. in some of these panels, you can't even tell that it's lloyd underneath. it might not be the same body, with the way the camera is positioned, especially with some of them being from javier's point of view, it's like,,, "who is speaking right now? the face of lloyd frontera, or the heart of suho kim?"

and in the middle of this, we hear javier speak and ask suho if he hated his behavior, blamed himself for his anxieties, and only then do we get to see one of his eyes, but just one.

idk if the timing of this is intentional (i dont know if ANY of this direction is intentional) but id like to think that javier responding in search of clarification (rather than responding in silence or in disgust) helped suho be a little more inclined to opening up and being honest with who he was in this world. i really really like that

AND THIS ARGHHH ARGHHH AAAHHHHH ROLLING AROUND ON THE FLOOR LIKE A PILLBUG HAVING A SEIZURE AGHHHH

it makes it so so telling that he's the type to live for others, he always has been, to the point of being a workaholic. a quiet, good kid, trying to make amends for the struggles he has by burdening himself with the responsibility of protecting his parents names, of protecting the people he loved. he's done that since the beginning and he keeps doing that over and over and over, both here on earth and there in lorasia.

it makes me so upset (in a character drive way! not in a "this is bad" way) that he thinks of himself as nothing without this responsibility, when this ability to move forward and endure and fight for people is something beautiful in and of itself. it's not every day that you meet people like this, selfless and hardworking and tenacious to their core. back then he encapsulated his identity based on his inability to function in a world that requires social and physical interaction - something that isn't his fault! - and while he was able to move past that in lorasia, he was thrown back to this encapsulation once in seoul. he started to think of himself as "suho in lloyd's body" again, instead of "i am lloyd frontera" as he said before his "bluff" failed. MY HEART HURTS.

and i think that's why javier's concluding note, that in the knights eyes he is just the same person, is so impactful too.

because javier doesn't see lloyd based on his anxiety. he sees him for who he is. someone who protects the people he cares about. someone who is brilliantly cunning, quick on his feet, rational and brave and tenacious tenacious tenacious. for all the things suho admitted to javier, these truths haven't changed for the knight. he's the same person.

javier sees a guardian. javier sees kim suho.

AND THAT is what gets suho to his feet and we finally see his full face again. AND OOHHHH THE LOOKS THEY GIVE EACH OTHER AGHHHH AHHH

the marks of tears streaked on his face but he's smiling with so much renewed energy and javier softly smiling back IM GONNA THROW UPPPP THESE TWO MEAN THE WORLD TO MEEEE AHHHHHH AAAAAAHHHHHH

exploding. exploding. exploding. exploding. exploding.

anyway that's all (for now. if you see me on twitter i might still be agonizing over this /pos) i will SEE YOU NEXT WEEK! i hope we get a cool view from namsan tower and javier reacting to that that'd be nice :3 ANYWAYS BYE

#tged #the greatest estate developer #tged spoilers #lynn misc #lloyd frontera #javier asrahan #kim suho #lynn yaps #SO SO SORRY FOR ALL THE YAPPING. THIS EP JUST MADE ME FEEL SO MUCH #i am far from an artist but i really really like thinking about possible intentional art direction n stuff #am i good at it? hell no! this stuff was probably obvious! and/or unintentional! but it was fun :3 #i went so insane abt this that while i was driving today i realized i was thinking more abt this ch than actually FOCUSING ON THE ROAD.#also super sorry for the late ep post! i was busy today <- was brainrotting abt this exact ep LMAO #very very sorry if this is all stuff webnovel readers know already from reading it! mb mb #man lots of apologies in the tags today lol sorry ill post now

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 1 year ago

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Not Enough | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your old classmate comes back into town for a work trip but his flight home gets cancelled so he shows up on your doorstep to tell you one last thing... Pairing: Reader x Jungkook f2l Word Count: 1.3k~ a/n: Just some cute angst... is that even a thing? lol idk how to categorize it. I wrote it last night and thought it would be nice as a one shot. Hope you enjoy :) p.s. horribly edited

"Hey thanks for letting me spend the night" Jungkook says as I let him into my apartment. "Don't mention it. It's not your fault that your flight got cancelled" I say taking his jacket and hanging it up to dry. "Looks like it's really coming down out there" I say in regards to his jacket that is completely soaked through. "Hey!" I laugh while putting my hands up, trying to shield myself from mist that lands on me while he shakes his head in an effort to dry his hair off a bit.

"Oh sorry my bad" he says wiping my face a bit with his sleeve that is surprisingly dry in contrast. "It's fine" I say while he playfully smooshes my face around, 'trying' to dry it off. "You sure you don't mind?" he says when he finishes and cups my face with both of his hands making eye contact with me. "I told you it's fine, plus this way we get to spend more time together before you fly back home" I say giving him a sad smile and taking one of his hands off my face so I can walk away to grab some things for him.

"Are you mad at me?" he says trailing behind me into my room. "Why would I be mad at you?" I say pulling out some pillows and blankets for him to use on the sofa bed. "Well then you're upset" he continues and I ignore that question because I really can't deny it.

"Talk to me" he says, taking the things that are in my hands and placing them on my bed. "I'm not upset" I lie but I know he can see right through me. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer. We were supposed to spend more time together but this work trip was a lot more demanding than I thought it would be" he says taking one of my hands in his.

"It's okay, it's not your fault. You had a job you needed to do so I can't get mad at you for it. I'm just happy that I was even able to see you" I say trying to take some of the guilt away. "How long has it been since you moved back home?" I question, referring to him getting his dream job back in Seoul.

"Two years" he says with an unreadable expression. "You still like it there right?" I question, concerned with his reaction. "Oh I love it, everyone there is really nice and the job is challenging but definitely everything I wanted and more" he says while grabbing the pillows and blankets and bringing them into the living room.

"I bet your parents are happy you moved back huh?" I question, watching as he sets up the pull out couch taking all the cushions off and unfolding the mattress. "Yeah they are, but they talk about you a lot though" he says with his back to me, not able to see how confused that's made me.

"Me? Why me?" I say grabbing one corner of the bed sheet, deciding to at least help him place the fitted one on. "They keep on asking me how you are, if you're still living in New York, why I didn't bring you back with me, what kind of job you have" he lists off, with one in particular catching me off guard.

"Woah woah woah, back up. They thought you were going to bring me back to Seoul with you? Like as in come to visit?" I say tilting my head in confusion. "Something like that" he says and lays out the pillows and blankets, finishing up the setup in record time. "No no, don't you go all vague on me" I say following him over to my kitchen where he gets himself a water bottle out of the fridge and hands one to me as well, which I place on the counter trying to stay focused on my interrogation.

"Did they think you were going to ask me to move to Seoul with you?" I question after he's taken a drink from his water bottle, still holding onto it, having only been half empty now. "Yeah" he says looking past me, focusing on something on the wall behind me to avoid eye contact.

"Why?" I question, confused as to what would even make them think that. "You know how my mom always calls you myeoneuri?" he questions, now looking down at the floor. "Yeah that means daughter right? You said she started calling me that because you and I became really good friends" I answer recalling the memory.

"Well myeoneuri doesn't exactly mean daughter" he says and I can see how the tips of his ears are almost turning a bit red. "What does it mean?" I question, curious as to where this is all going. "It means daughter in law" he says now making eye contact with me. "Oh" I say taken back, trying to piece things together from our phone calls. Everything making sense now with how he would wave his mother off when she would tease him in front of me on video call countless times.

"Needless to say she had certain expectations set for you and I" he says trying to walk past me and back into the living room but I grab his wrist before he's able to make it too far. "Jungkook did she think we were dating?" I ask and he stops for a second, trying to figure out exactly how he's going to go about this. "No, but she wanted us to be" he answers but I'm still not satisfied by that answer.

"Why exactly did she want us to be dating?" I question prodding further. "Because she knew that I liked you" he says and slips his wrist out of my grasp gently and walks over to the bed where he sits down on it with his shoulders slightly slumped. "What's wrong?" I ask sitting next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know. I just, being back here has really put a lot of things into perspective for me. It's shown me that I've missed this place a lot more than I thought I did. I missed you a lot more than I thought I did" he says trailing off a bit. "What are you trying to say?" I question, trying to get him to come out and say exactly what he's thinking.

"I've told myself before that it would never work between us, that we were too young and naïve to think about anything serious. I told myself that I didn't want to ruin our friendship and that we should just stay the way we have always have been. So when I got that job offer after graduation, I took it. I took it because I knew that if I stayed here that I might do something stupid and break your heart if you ever gave me the chance to hold it. I convinced myself that things were better this way and that if I could have you in my life even when we're thousands of miles apart that that would be enough for me. After coming back here I realized, that that's not enough for me anymore" he says and finally makes eye contact with me.

"Having you in my life but only being able to see you through a screen or hear you voice on the phone is not enough for me. Hearing about your days but not being able to be a part of them is not enough for me. Being able to hold you this close to my heart and being too scared to give it to you is not enough for me" he says taking my hand and placing it on his chest where I can feel his heart beating faster, helping me realize how he's truly felt about me for a while.

"Please say something" he pleads with a voice that sounds broken and vulnerable almost as if he would shatter if you weren't careful. I instead take his hand and place it against my chest showing him that it's beating just as fast as his.

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justhere4thevibez · 2 years ago

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Could you write something that incorporates the movie labyrinth somehow since it came out in 1986? I totally agree Eddie would love that kind of movie and Chrissy too!

Confession time: I've never actually watched Labyrinth, so all I know for sure about that movie is David Bowie has a ridiculous crotch bulge. So, that's what this is about 😂 it also turned a bit suggestive at the end, so... enjoy? idk what this even is lol, but I did my best

---

“Eddie, what was that?”

“A movie.” Eddie stared at her innocently as they climbed into the van after the show. “A good movie.”

“Okay, yes, it was a good movie, but—” she flushed adorably. “Didn’t you see… it?”

“It?” Having watched Labyrinth twice already, he knew exactly what she meant, but it was so much more fun to plead ignorance. “Be a bit more specific, honey.”

“You know.” She gestured vaguely downward. “It.”

“Not computing, kiddo.” He watched delightedly as her blush traveled even further downward. “Use your words.”

“David Bowie,” she stammered, cute as a blushing button. “His—”

“His mask?” Eddie wanted to kiss the little frustrated huff straight from her lips. “His crystal ball? His—”

“His pants, Eddie,” she burst out, red as a tomato. “They were so tight you could see his…”

She trailed off, incoherent and practically radiating embarrassed heat.

“Oh, you liked that?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Maybe I should get some pants just like Bowie’s. I could wear them to the Hideout, maybe, or for a date night—”

Chrissy clapped her hands over his mouth, cutting off his teasing remarks.

“Don’t you dare,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Why not?” he asked as he pried her hands from his mouth. “Would I get you too hot and bothered? Because you know I’m happy to fix that, too.”

“You—” her mouth dropped open in outrage. “You’re doing this to tease me. On purpose.”

He batted his eyelashes at her. “Doing what?”

He saw it crystal clear, the moment she decided to turn the tables on him. It was so funny how quickly she could turn from shy and innocent to bold and sexy. Her mouth scrunched up in determination, and before he knew it she’d climbed across the center console and sat right in his lap.

“I think,” she said slowly, shifting a great deal more than necessary to settle herself, “you’re the one who wants those pants.”

“What?” he stuttered, quickly losing any edge he’d had. She was on his goddamn lap, okay? Give a guy a break.

“You want to show off for me, baby?” she whispered in his ear, her breath tickling his neck. “Maybe I’d like that.”

Just as quickly, she scooted back to her seat, giving him a teasing grin.

“Fuck, Chrissy, you’re going to kill me,” he groaned, adjusting himself so it wouldn’t be completely embarrassing if he had to get out of the van anytime soon.

“You’ll live,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I just wanted a preview.”

“A preview?”

“Mm-hmm.” She laid her hand on his thigh and squeezed. “If you look like this in your regular pants, I can’t wait to see you in tight ones.”

“Fuck.”

Eddie flopped forward to bang his head on the steering wheel. This woman was actually going to kill him. God, he loved her.

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer drabble #labyrinth #vibez answers #let's talk about david bowie's crotch bulge

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savethepinecones · 1 year ago

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1, 16, 20, 25! + any one of your choosing

1: what is your nickname?

i dont have any based on my name since its already v short but ive had internet folks call me pinecones or piney and i like those!

16: what do you think makes you attractive?

i think physically my eyes are my best feature but if were talking personality uhh i guess ive got a solid sense of humor?

20: whats a totally random and useless fact that you know?

every piece of knowledge ive ever had just abandoned me lol. if you feel like youre going to sneeze you can stop it by touching the tip of your tongue to the roof of your mouth a few times, like if you were saying la la la (i think i was told youre supposed to say "pineapple" but its the tongue thing thats the actually effective part)

25: do you/have you played any sports?

oh man. i did gymnastics for a bit when i was like four. tried ballet when i was seven but eventually decided to pursue piano instead (my mom had my sister and i try both for a year and then pick one to stick with). i also was on a soccer team at some point, maybe in first grade? i actually dont remember it at all but i vaguely remember looking at the team photos. also i remember the high socks lol. and then i briefly did softball in middle school because my childhood best friend had picked it up the year before and i wanted to fit in. im very asthmatic though so most if not all of these Did Not Go Well lol

and for the bonus one ill go with 19: a time that you told a lie

first off some important context for this is that i was raised mormon and every summer the church would have all the girls ages 13-17 go camping for like a week. they do hikes and crafts and devotionals etc. i think its all standard church camp type stuff.

so the first year i went they had the younger girls go on a short hike while the older ones went on a longer one. when we got back, a couple friends and i were curious about the longer hike so we decided to check the trail out during free time. we kept walking for quite a while. idk how long it was but we knew wed been gone long enough that people would have noticed we were missing. if i had to guess id say maybe an hour or so idk. anyway we got to a point where the path started to trail off and disappear so we decided to stop for a bit and then work our way back. we were in a pretty big meadow but there were some trees partway down a hill and one of my friends went down there to pee and carved some initials on a tree. i think she said she carved something for me and my crush at the time but i never saw it lol.

anyway eventually we started to head back and at some point we realized we were probably gonna get in trouble for disappearing. i was really worried about it but one of the girls was like "no dont worry about it ill take the blame" and suggested that we tell everyone that she had seen a deer and followed it and then the other girl and i went after her because we didnt want her to get lost in the woods alone.

about halfway back to camp we started hearing people calling our names. we kinda figured there might be some people looking for us but what we werent expecting was that they were men. remember, this is Girls Camp. usually the bishop would show up for a day or two but other than there werent any guys up there. turned out the bishop showed up while we were gone and some other guys whod driven up with him to drop off some food offered to help him look for us.

eventually the search party found us and we all stuck to our story when they asked us what had happened. i think we also said that initially wed been lost and really scared but then we said a prayer and just like that we found a path! and thats why they found us on a trail even though wed supposedly run off into the woods at random. it was very dramatic and spiritual. and also complete bullshit.

so we finally get back to camp and the leaders are all fretting over us. the girl who "followed the deer" did get a lecture about not chasing wild animals because they could be dangerous but that was about it. no big repurcussions.

that night we had a devotional, which is basically just the whole group sitting around the campfire and telling stories about when they felt the holy spirit or whatever. usually the leaders will start off by reading some scriptures or a talk from some church official and then theyll turn it over to the kids to talk about their experiences. in the middle of this, a deer wandered into the clearing near our camp. some of the girls pointed it out because cool, a deer. but the moment the three of us saw it, my friend who had supposedly followed a deer into the woods earlier that same day jumped up and shouted "thats the deer!"

for some reason everyone, including the adults, took it at face value that this random deer in the woods must be the exact same one wed supposedly seen earlier that day and also that it was some sort of sign that god had been looking out for us while we were "lost"

looking back on it now it doesnt really seem like a big lie but it felt like a huge deal at the time because we lied to The Bishop. for a long time i considered this to be the worst thing id ever done. we never came clean to anyone whod been there at the time and i dont think i even told my mom the real story until like a decade later lol

that story ended up being way longer than i thought it would be lol (ive told it before but never written the whole thing out so the word count is surprising) but its probably the most exciting lie ive got. the alternative stories are mostly like "i was super depressed but didnt think that would be considered a valid reason to bail on something so i said i had a migraine" so i think it was the best option despite the length. also its been a while since i thought about this and it made me nostalgic so yay

thanks for asking!! i had a lot of fun answering these (you can tell by how long this post ended up being lol)

#answered asks #thegoliathbeetle

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ravenousnightwind · 2 years ago

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There's something to he said about this kind of thing. Like, it really depends on your perception of the character, the characters perception of themselves, the other characters perception of them, and the perception of other people irl.

Like for one example, Steven Universe.

His mother was actually not a good person overall? Sure she saved earth and all that after she had this idea about life, but look at what she did to spinel. Look at how she even handled everything else. She kinda just ran away, popped out of existence to ignore all her problems to some degree. And yet there are real life people who think she's this cool warrior. But then there's the characters who obviously adored her, even after the fact they learned who she really was, or even Pearl who knew all along.

Then if you take the Diamonds as another example. The characters, especially when they were still dictators, had people who adored them while also those who despised them. Then suddenly they became "good".

Goodness, badness. People think amazing things about people even when they do horrific things. It's not even that an author is saying by having them seen as awesome people that they even believe they are in the first place. The thing most people don't get about writing a novel, imo, is that a lot of people will use real life situations or complexities to craft an interesting story.

Sure, change is awesome, but can the actions be forgiven? It's like when Megatron became an autobot because he realized all the shit he done wrong and liked it. Like? Wtf? But at the same time, the characters obviously didn't like this. But there were others who hailed him still as this amazing person.

This is true for real life as well. Amazingness depends on everyone's perception and your perception even of the other surrounding characters or society. Some stories even have characters who are thought to be amazing but to do what they did was absolutely nasty and horrific.

My point is that stories aren't just stories. They are created by a person it's true, and maybe some thought went into the creation of the plot and characters. All stories however, often reflect real life in some vague way. If you exclude all that fantasy stuff and cool things, what you have is a baseline. Horrific tragedies are committed all the time. Not saying it's right or good, but it allows for growth in ways honestly we should think more about that maybe isn't so great.

Yet, in stories we have things similar. People being killed or maimed or even going to war. It's always about some struggle. But who is right or wrong? Who can truly say? What is morality? What is the wrongness of why seeing or perceiving someone as amazing bad when they do bad things? I mean, it's the real question. The real conundrum. At least imo it is.

So what does it all mean? It means that things are complex. Things aren't as simple as good or bad or amazing or horrific. It means that there are problems. Maybe even the author themselves. It means that people have a message of a sort they want to convey. Yet..those people, may not even be wholly "good" as they come off to be. I mean just look at JKR for a really good example.

I think it's easy to look at something and go yeah this is bad because of x and like not get it. And I think if anyone actually understood that shit idk we'd all grow a little bit, but it's also part of the human condition. Which isn't to say I think it's good. But it is to say that I think stories like the ones described have something to say, whether that is good or bad is up for debate. Like what does it say not just about the author in the bigger picture, but what does it say or represent for them?

I guess I'm going off trail at this point but, I do think these sorts of things are very complex. There's a lot of intricacies involved in the creation of something, especially a fantasy novel. Sometimes it may not even mean anything, and maybe they just think it's interesting.

But then..my perception of all things is that perhaps I am not seeing the bigger whole. Perhaps my own perception is flawed, perhaps I can never understand until I encounter a person or thing that helps me to. So idk at this point if you've read this far at all, the biggest part of what I'm saying is there are a lot of unknowns, and there are a lot of reasons. But ultimately it can't really be controlled. They are what they are, even if the people or characters they created are shit. We can only look at it puzzling wtf it all really means.

I guess that's just my two cents as a creator myself. I can't say I sway against or for the previous statements, all I can say is that I think things are complex.

Here's the thing I keep trying to articulate and possibly failing: I don't actually mind characters who are terrible people. I have enjoyed many. What I mind is characters who are terrible people while the narrative keeps trying to say that they are wonderful, often contradicting what the narrative shows us, with no self awareness

#writing

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wooahaes · 8 months ago

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svt - coming out as bisexual [hyung line]

pairing: non-idol!svt hyung line x fem!bisexual!reader

genre: some are angstier and hurt/comfort, others are fluffier.

warnings: reader coming out as bisexual. cheol being anxious, misunderstandings. reader having several moments of thinking this would end a relationship (present in several drabbles). some drabbles has reader having known for a while, others have reader having realized it recently. implications of reader having bad past experiences with coming out to people (ex-boyfriend in shua and jihoon's). food mentions (cake in joshua's, vague dinner mention in jihoon's). mentions of exes (both ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends).

daisy's notes: happy pride :) no taglist on these because idk how many ppl off of it would care haha also might do the maknae line once i have ideas lol i already feel kinda repetitive with these since there's only so many ways to say 'i love and accept you' yknow?

choi seungcheol

seungcheol remembered your text from earlier: i have something i need to say. can we meet up soon?

which, as much as he hated to admit it, sent his mind into overdrive. it was vague enough that it could be plenty of things. you were sick, your friend was sick, your family member was sick, you were moving, you'd killed someone, you actually hated him and this was all some stupid bet... anything. so seungcheol waited in the park ten (okay, fifteen) minutes early, leg bouncing restlessly as he waited for you. everything was okay, right? as long as you were safe, he could live with whatever thing came next.

but you greeted him nervously, a bit quieter than usual. the moment he went to take your hand, you'd jumped, and apologized with this flustered look on your face. yet you didn't take his hand, instead tucking them into your pockets as you set off along the park pathway. this sealed the deal: you were going to dump him.

he just wished you'd do it already. instead, you'd been casual enough in talking about whatever came to mind. you'd asked about him twice now (clearly feeling out whether he'd cry if you dumped him or if he'd hold himself together), asked about kkuma, asked about work... so seungcheol reached forward, catching you by the hand.

"if you're going to break up with me, it's okay. you can say it already."

immediately, you jerked around to face him. "oh my god. is that what you think this is?"

"yes?" he stared at you, and then shook his head. "no? you're acting strange, and i've been worried ever since i got your text this morning..."

you slowly exhaled a deep breath and then took his hands in your own. "i'm not breaking up with you," you said. "i..." you trailed off for just a moment, then swallowed hard. "seungcheol, i'm bisexual."

he said nothing at first, just staring at you as his mind just processed what he just heard. you're...?

"it's okay if this changes things," you said all too quickly, as if you were always prepared for him to say nothing or to react badly. "i get it. not everyone is okay with dating someone like me. it's not like there's someone else, but i kept thinking and—"

seungcheol took your face into his hands, just to stop you. "thank you for telling me," he said, voice soft. "i know this was a really big thing. but it doesn't change anything." he paused, and then let out an awkward laugh as his head dropped forward. "i was terrified something bad had happened!"

thankfully, it just earned an affectionate snort from you. "i'm sorry! i kept rereading my text and wondering if it was too serious. i'll do better next time i have something to tell you—"

"ah, don't coddle me—i'm ruining your moment now," he lifted his head so that he could look at you. "really, though... thank you for telling me. it would never change the way i look at you."

"i know." your voice was quieter now, so tiny as you gave him a shy smile. "that's why i wanted to tell you." you cupped his cheek with one hand, bringing him in for a soft kiss. "i want to be myself with you. and... i had to tell you, y'know?"

he could understand your reasoning. something bloomed in his chest. pride for you, first: coming out could be hard, and he was glad you felt safe enough with him to do so. and then a soft love, sweet as could be, that you wanted to be your most authentic self with him. the same way he wanted to be himself when he was with you.

yoon jeonghan

jeonghan's body was warm against your side, head resting on your shoulder as the two of you were enjoying your little movie night together. the smell of popcorn filled the air, the bowl haphazardly resting in his lap. the lip of it pressed into your thigh, and all you could focus on was the way your heart was racing a little. you rested your head against jeonghan's, shutting your eyes for a moment.

better now than never.

"i think she's really pretty," you said when the actress was alone on screen for a moment, your tone as casual as could be. an innocent enough comment, but one that would let you maybe gauge whether to keep going from here.

jeonghan hummed in agreement. "she is, yeah."

well, shit. that didn't tell you anything. but... with a deep breath, you pulled away from jeonghan to pause the movie. he sat up a little, watching you curiously for a moment as you turned to him. "jeonghan, i'm bisexual."

at first, he said nothing as he just watched you for a moment. "oh?"

already, your mind was going into panic mode. "shit, i--listen, i know how that sounds coming out of nowhere, but i--"

jeonghan's hands found your own quickly, and he squeezed them. "sorry!" he said it quickly, intertwining his fingers with your own so that he could press his palms flat against yours. "sorry. i... i should have reacted better." he just sat there, holding your hands for a moment. "i love you. but was that a test?"

"it... might have been."

he snorted a little. "you're so cute," he said. "but thank you for trusting me with this." he paused for a moment, "can i ask how long you've known, or...?"

ah. a scary question. "not long," you confessed. "i dunno, i just... one of my friends is bisexual, and she was talking about it a couple months ago, and a lot of the stuff she said kinda resonated with me? so i just... started questioning how and why and everything, and..." you pulled your hands free from his. "i just figured out that i wasn't as straight as i always thought i was."

his gaze softened. "oh. honey..." he reached forward to brush back a stray strand of hair from your face. "does she know?"

you shook your head. "you're the first person i've told, actually."

immediately, he drew his hand back as he stared at you. "... really?" and when you nodded, he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. "i'm honored you trust me so much, then," he giggled. "i love you. is it okay if i have questions?"

"like...?"

"just about how out you want to be," he said. "i won't tell anyone without asking, but... we'll talk about it later, okay? i want to support you however you need me to."

something melted inside of your chest at how soft he was treating you, voice so gentle. you'd fallen for the silly antics of jeonghan before you fell for how tender he could be. being around him was like being bathed in sunlight (sometimes after being doused in a water balloon thrown by him). you just snuggled in close as turning the movie back on, pressing a tiny kiss against the side of his neck.

joshua hong

joshua had been watching the way you moved about your kitchen with a new sense of nervousness to you. but he was used to it: baking was a hobby of yours he fully enjoyed reaping the rewards of, even if it meant seeing you a little nervous before he tested a new recipe for you. if it wasn't him, then it was your roommate, vernon, who would taste test. but he liked having the privilege of being your boyfriend and always asked first if he was free. you toted a cake toward the dinner table, knife clutched in your hand, and slowly set it down as carefully as you could.

"so what's this one?" he looked up at you, smiling a little. he loved seeing how flustered you'd get over this sort of thing.

"you'll see."

that was enough to throw him. since when did you not gush about whatever new recipe you'd found...? he watched the way you were hesitating.

"maybe this is stupid," you mumbled to yourself, clearly not intending for joshua to hear.

he reached up. "do you want me to cut it?" he stood up to stand next to you. "i can cut my own slice."

your hands were shaking. effortlessly, you let go of the knife when joshua pulled it from your grasp. without a word, you just sat down, watching intently as he gauged how big of a slice he'd get for himself.

and then he saw pink first, the cake crumbs giving it away. as he pulled out the slice, he was met with three colors: a pink top later, a purple middle layer, and a blue bottom layer, held together with purple icing between them. joshua wasn't an idiot: he'd seen pride flags before. he'd seen the bisexual one, too.

"... is there something you want to tell me?" he asked softly. "or is this for someone else?"

you shook your head. "it's for me." you had shut your eyes, lips now pressed firmly together. how afraid were you right now...? without a word, joshua pushed the cake away from the edge of the table, slice and knife and all. and then he kneeled down beside you, taking your hand into his.

"hey. i'm right here," he said. "i'm not going anywhere."

and then you were crying, all at once. joshua rose up to wrap his arms around you, letting you bury your face in his shoulder. was he the first person you'd ever told...? or had you really been that scared that he'd react badly? he just kissed the side of your head, holding your securely in his arms.

"i baked the stupid cake because if you reacted badly, i'd just go eat cake with vernon," you babbled through your sobs. "we still have to save him a slice of the stupid cake. but i kept freaking out because what if--" you hiccuped, "what if you left me?"

"i wouldn't," joshua hugged you a little tighter. "it doesn't change who you are, silly."

"doesn't it?"

his heart ached a little at that. had it changed you in someone else's eyes...? no matter. joshua still saw you as yourself, just with a little something new for him to file away in his brain for you.

"it doesn't," he reaffirmed. joshua drew back so that he could see your face again. "so... there's a really good cake sitting right here," he nodded toward it. "you wanna share it?"

it was a stupid change in topic, but the weak laugh it earned from you was enough to do the job. "yeah," you pecked his lips. "let's eat some cake. ice cream's in the freezer, shua."

wen junhui

jun liked to consider himself a good listener, especially when it came to you. he liked to sit back and just listen to you talk about anything and everything, whether it was your interests or the things that pissed you off or even about your work day. today, he'd been holding your hand, listening to you go on about some conversation with a friend.

"and i told her that i thought it was a dick move, you know? i mean, who fucking cares what he thinks? he's an ex-friend for a damn good reason."

jun, admittedly, had lost the story by this point. one of your friends had been in some fight, maybe? and said ex-friend had reached out to say something that pissed both you and your friend off. he wasn't sure what it was yet, but you seemed a little more fired up than usual.

"i don't know, like... who fucking cares? he's a sexist dick as it is. did he really need to add biphobia to the mix? like, who fucking cares that i'm dating a man? it doesn't mean i'm any less bisexual. it's like people don't actually give a shit when bisexual woman are bisexual if it doesn't visibly look--"

... wait a second.

"you're bisexual?" jun spoke before he'd thought, and he watched the clueless way you looked at him.

"... wait, i didn't tell you?"

jun just shook his head. that was the kind of thing he'd file away in his head as vital information in order to support you. how many times had you talked about this that he didn't realize...? fuck, how shitty of a boyfriend was he?

you just blinked at him for a moment. "jun, i was dating my ex-girlfriend when we met."

oh, shit, that was your ex-girlfriend...?

"oh." jun felt the heat rising to his cheeks. "i'm sorry, i didn't realize that--"

"no, don't," you waved a hand. "she really hated skinship so we were never touchy, which..." you raised your connected hands. you always reached out to take his hand every chance you got. "... is a huge reason why we didn't work out. i could have sworn..." then you trailed off. "oh."

"oh?" he parroted back at you.

"i really never told you." with a hum, you shrugged it off. "well, now you know. does it bother you?"

he shook his head immediately, "no! no, it's not--i just--"

"jun," you pulled your hand free, turning to face him. "don't get upset, okay? you didn't know because i didn't tell you. i don't need this to be a big deal, okay? i'm bisexual. it doesn't need to be some big thing, y'know?"

he nodded, taking in your words fully. if you didn't want for it to be a big deal, then he would let the issue rest. "okay. but... just so you know," he said, lowering his voice, "i love you."

you giggled, leaning in for a quick kiss. "i love you, too, silly."

kwon soonyoung

soonyoung liked seeing the life you lived before you met him. the two of you had curled up on the living room floor of your parents' house, his head resting on your shoulder as you told him old stories about your life. the amusement parks that you used to go to with your parents, old family dinners and get-togethers, the years you did theater in high school...

"oh!" you had flipped a page and spotted a picture of yourself surrounded by your friends. you had painted cheeks (pink, purple, blue in three close lines on both cheeks), and your arms wrapped around friends with their own painted flags on their cheeks. beads hung from your neck in various colors, all of you grinning at the camera. your dad was squished into frame, too, bearing a shirt that offered parental hugs. "mama took this one at my first pride event..."

soonyoung perked up a little. he'd gone to pride once before to support some of his friends. but he didn't dress up the way you did.

"ugh, it's so cheesy," you rolled your eyes. "i just came out to them as bi a few months earlier. i know i'm lucky, because they took it really, really well... but they'd been so goofy about it." you snorted. "i think they both still have the shirts."

"mhm?" he watched you. "i'm glad they support you."

"you could come, too, if you wanted." you snuggled in. "you're my partner. you're supportive...?"

"very supportive," he giggled. "you don't have to take me if you don't want to."

"no, i do," you turned to him. "my parents are straight and they still came to support me. some people are always gonna have issues with it, but as long as you're being respectful then literally no one cares. and those who do usually just go home and bitch on social media about it," you shrugged. "you have a bisexual girlfriend to support. that's reason enough if you want to come."

"i'd love to," he wrapped his arms around yours, snuggling back in. "if you want me there, i'll be there."

you just smiled to yourself. he didn't have to say it any further, but the message was loud and clear: i see you and i accept you and i love you.

jeon wonwoo

"are you alright? you're quieter than usual."

the click of the turn signal filled the car for a moment as you watched lazily out the window. the two of you were more introverted, and after a few hours of socializing, you were the one who would usually recharge a bit in the car while wonwoo drove aimlessly. eventually, he'd ask if you were ready to go home (usually after he'd grown ready to be there, just to gauge where your energy level was). but the two of you usually talked a little, or listened to music and sang along. little things that weren't draining. not that being with wonwoo drained you in any way; he was the exception to how draining socializing could be.

"mhm." it was half-hearted, but you weren't sure what else to say. the two of you had been together this long, how were you supposed to just say you'd realized something about yourself lately?

"okay." wonwoo reached over, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. "if you want to talk, i'm still here."

the car ride continued in silence for a bit longer. you fiddled with the radio at one point, growing a bit more restless with your thoughts. wonwoo had always been understanding. hell, the two of you would read books by queer authors and discuss them--if it was an issue for him, it would have come up long before now. but it was different, right? being for gay rights and actually dating someone bisexual? it had to be different. hell, you weren't even sure if you were--maybe you were just pretending, and this was all starting to feel stupid and maybe you were--

"honey?" wonwoo's voice was soft and so, so concerned. "you've turned the radio on and off five times now. what's wrong?"

... had you done that? that sounded oddly right. it was easy enough to bump the knob, listen to the radio, and then decide silence was better... only to change your mind again. "can i tell you something?"

he looked over, and then paused for a moment. "let me pull over."

"you don't have to--"

"it's serious, isn't it?" he looked at you. after you gave him a shy nod, then he continued, "i want to give you my full attention, then."

soon enough, he'd pulled over onto the side of the road. you floundered a bit, rambling until wonwoo took your hand in his own for a moment. he ran his thumb over the back of your thumb, slow and steady, and it made you feel grounded.

"it's okay," he said. "you can tell me anything."

so with a deep breath, you pulled yourself together. better to rip the band-aid off. "i think i'm bisexual."

wonwoo watched you carefully for a moment, and then slowly nodded. "okay." he held your hand in his own. a moment later, he quietly asked, "is that all?"

you shyly nodded quickly, face growing warmer by the second. "i'm not telling you because i want to open the relationship or anything," you said. "i just wanted to tell you."

he nodded. "okay," he squeezed your hand. "then thank you for telling me." wonwoo leaned forward, kissing your forehead gently.

an odd sense of uncertainty seemed to swirl in your stomach. he just... accepted it? that was good, but part of your couldn't fully believe it. you'd heard horror stories of relationships going south, of shitty partners becoming ex-partners because they tore their partner down. yet wonwoo just held your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles, and thanked you for telling him.

"is there anything i can do to help you figure it out?" he asked quietly. "i... could look into books, if you wanted to read about it. or--"

tears welled up in your eyes, and you found yourself laughing. "oh my god," the words spilled past your lips. "you're so cute."

wonwoo's eyes widened a little. "i'm... cute?"

why had you been so nervous? the uncertainty was dissipating little by little. it was wonwoo, one of the smartest and most polite men you'd ever met--let alone dated.

"you are," you leaned forward to peck his lips. "but... thank you," you smiled at him, looking at him so tenderly. "for accepting me."

he shyly smiled at the thanks. "you shouldn't be thanking me," he said. "it's the bare minimum." but he squeezed your hand one more time. "let's go home."

with him, you already were.

lee jihoon

"you said there was something you wanted to tell me?"

you had been ever-so-slightly off ever since jihoon met up with you outside your usual coffee shop. but the moment you took jihoon's hand in your own, his worries had been set a little bit at ease... until he realized you were dancing around whatever topic you wanted to bring up to him. he'd let the issue go for a bit: if you wanted to tell him something, you'd tell him when you were ready.

except that had been earlier. the two of you ended up catching a movie (his heart sped up a little when you rested your head on his shoulder, snuggling in happily), and then grabbed dinner at a local restaurant. now it was just the two of you, walking down a semi-empty street, with you rambling about the latest book you'd read.

you turned to him with a hum. "hm?"

"just..." jihoon squeezed your hand a little. "that's why you wanted to meet up. you said you wanted to tell me something."

your smile faltered for a second, twitching slightly as you averted your gaze. "right. yeah. there was something..." but you turned back to him, forcing a smile again. "it's not important."

"is it?" jihoon prodded slightly. he knew you well enough, despite the fact you hadn't been dating all that long. "are you sure?"

your smile fell again, and you let out a sigh. "okay." you squeezed his hand gently, "i just... i dunno. i'm nervous to say it out loud. my ex dumped me over it, and... i really like you, jihoon. but if i don't tell you, then i feel like i'm lying to myself and pretending to be someone i'm not, so..."

jihoon said nothing, just waiting patiently.

you stopped, turning to face him fully as you took both of his hands into your own. "i'm bisexual. i've known for a really long time, but i don't really broadcast that knowledge until i know i can trust someone. and you're... you're really sweet, and i like you, but i need to know that i can be myself around you."

you trusted him? jihoon felt his heart race a little in his chest at the implication. "thank you for telling me," he said, the words a little stiff and stilted as he tried to calm himself back down. you really liked him. you trusted him. the words kept running through his head. which... was really good, because he trusted and liked you, too. you'd been kind enough to take the relationship slow when he asked for it.

"you aren't mad?"

"why would i be?" he gently squeezed your hands, just to reassure you. "i..." his voice dropped a little lower, just to keep this between the two of you, "i really like you, too. and... and i'm glad i get to know you like this."

you just leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss against his cheek. "i am, too."

and with his sweet acceptance, you fell a little more in love with lee jihoon all at once.

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ephemerensis · 3 years ago

Text

Hatefire // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

idk i’m just an angry person. def a more angsty imagine, unedited if that matters to you 😮‍💨😮‍💨 you’re mad, tim make mad go away. possible trigger warning? allusions to bullying but its vague and not explicitly mentioned. also? should i make a masterlist asf

—

A loud thump sounded from your room following the sound of you crying out incoherently.

The sound snapped Tim out of his thoughts. Being only two rooms away and alert as always, your darling boyfriend perked up at the sudden noise in alarm. He dropped his pen, reaching for the bo staff resting by his doorframe, before hurriedly stumbling in your direction.

The door was ajar, so he pushed it open vigorously.

“Y/N!”

Nostrils flared, body tense, eyes hardened, staff poised as he searched for the source of your distress.

But you were fine.

Physically anyways.

You were on your bed. Delicate hands angrily pressed against your ears, knees drawn flush against your chest with your back to the wall. Your brows were furrowed in a furious arch, e/c irises staring daggers at the phone you’d just flung against the wall.

You looked livid. Murderous even. Chest heaving. Hands quaking.

If anything, the phone was in distress.

Tim furrowed his brows in confusion as he tried to process the scene.

What made you so angry?

Normally you were a benign being. You used your words beyond anything else— never shying from running your mouth about the latest minor inconvenience that may have irked you. Other times, if the offense was serious, you took the rage silently, but eventually the words could be coaxed out after a cup of peppermint tea paired with a warm lemon scone. You had your moments but rarely did you ever burn in a fit of rage with the violence and decay of Pompeii dancing in your eyes as they did now.

Tim flicked on the lights. You had them off. The only other light source were the small LEDs you had on a strip behind your bed that cast a gentle purple ambiance about the frame.

As he did, your gaze immediately darted over in a startled glare. Your eyes were cast over in a glassy glaze, indicating that tears were starting to bubble up like soda pop.

Tim softened his demeanor, immediately flicking the lights off again. You hated when people could see you cry. It wasn’t for lack of trust or comfort, but there was something about the raw vulnerability of openly flowing tears that shook your core.

‘It ruins my super cool mystique,’ you’d said once when he asked.

Although neither of you quite believed it. The real reason was something closer to pride. You wanted to be steadfast and strong. For him at least. Tim who was bold and brave and reliable. With the world crumbling at his feet, didn’t he need someone to lean on? How could he be weak around you if you were just as fragile?

And he understood that.

So in moments like these, he let you pretend. Pretend that you weren’t crying even as the tears trickled down your face. Pretend that your problems were petty and solvable to ease your worry about his concern. Pretend afterwards that none of this had happened. Because you weren’t weak. And it wasn’t weakness— at least not to him. You were just hurting, human, feeling. Or something like that. And that’s okay.

After all, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t handle your tears?

Setting his staff to lean against your doorframe, he made his way to the bed.

Brisk, careful, movements— void of any sudden loud noises as if he were approaching a wild animal, scared it would run. His hands were held out towards you as he eased himself onto the mattress to avoid startling you.

“Y/N, baby, are you okay?”

Gentle, caring, benevolent. That’s how he always was with you.

Singular droplets of salty resentment rolled down your cheeks in waves. Blending, blurring. They carved wet trails along the plains of your skin, leaving behind a sheen in their wake.

The bed dipped with his weight as he settled on the edge.

You just shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to verbally respond for a myriad of reasons. You’d voice crack, breaking the illusion the darkness offered for your tears. The words would flow like rivers when you started, sputtering and overflowing like the waters of the nile during a flood. You’d taste the tears and have to acknowledge the shame you associated with crying.

Silhouettes of shadow cast arms reached for you in an offering of solace. But you pulled your knees closer, shying away.

You didn’t turn to look at him. The glare dedicated to your discarded phone remained unwavering. Eyes hardened, lips pursed tight as anger boiled in your veins ready to foam over.

“What’s the matter?”

You hesitated.

The both of you rarely kept secrets. Especially with the kind of life he led, it was so easy to abuse the trust you’d formed so instead you told each other everything and it worked.

So what was stopping you?

This was different. This hurt. Beyond comprehension it hurt. And it was ugly. To let him see the rawest wounds you bore, the parts of you you didn’t think would ever resurface. And over something as little as this? It was paralyzing.

But the hand on your shoulder was so inviting. You were standing on a precipice, ready to crumble and here was the option of a safety net to catch you. But to land in it, you had to let yourself fall first.

So you drew a hand from your body and pointed, quickly and brashly, at the phone you’d so violently thrown aside moments before. Tim glanced at it before moving, cautiously, to pick it up and resumed his spot beside you. The wall didn’t suffer any damage from the impact but your screen did. A single, spindly crack danced its way through the upper corner of the now darkened, once pristine glass.

He knew your password, glancing at you to see if you had any objections before unlocking the device.

The screen lit up opened to an Instagram story. They were smiling. A group of people around your age, huddled around a restaurant table bearing radiant grins wider than a mile.

That was it.

Yet seeing it again just made your face twist deeper into a bitter grimace.

Tim kept his thumb on the screen. There wasn’t anything wrong in the picture. He’d never seen these people before— you’d never mentioned any of the names tagged and the faces were utterly unfamiliar. No red flags presented themselves in the background. Even down to the food laid out on the table wasn’t something you would’ve shown any interest in.

“…who are these people?”

You were scared to tell him. What would he think about what you had to say?

Thoughts of suppressed memories flooded your head again and your hands flew back to your ears as if you could silence the noise pounding in your skull by oppressing them. It was overwhelming.

Tim set your phone aside, immediately pulling you into a tight embrace. Confusion wrought itself over his features as he held you but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he kept his arm firmly around you as the other coaxed gentle strokes against your hands. You couldn’t hear him, but you could feel the tickles of his breath against your skin as he whispered regurgitations of words you’d spoken to him when he was where you were now. Irrational, confused, angry, unstable, soothed by repetitions and variations of ‘it’s okay.’

White hot searing rage mingled with bitter shame and hurt. Rage boiling over, foaming through your veins and evaporating into your brain fluid in seething waves as you juggled the answer in your mind.

Who were they?

Terrible people. Evil incarnate. Monsters in every right.

Could you really say that? When the likes of the Joker ran rampant through the streets? When the person beside you had faced worse?

No. No, you had to trust him. Trust him not to judge you. Trust him to help you. Trust him to understand. Trust him to look past your shallow rage at the underlying words your mouth couldn’t utter.

Trust him.

So you let yourself fall.

Your words came out in hiccups as you tried to form something comprehensible that still aligned with your state of being.

“They’re horrible, Tim.”

He fell silent, loosening his hold and moving back to give you the room you needed to talk. Your arms dropped to hold themselves as you cast a sidelong glance to your phone before looking at him again. An urgency presented themselves in your eyes, begging him to understand even if your explanations now would fall short.

“Tim, they’ve done things to me. Terrible, unspeakable things that I can’t forget. I can’t forgive.”

Your voice was straining now to keep the creeping quiver of tears out of it. He didn’t move. You needed your space to talk, whether you knew that or not so that’s what he was going to give you.

“And I have to live with it, but them?”

Your tears were flowing freely now, running in rivers down your cheeks as the hyperventilation started to step in and choke.

“Look at them. They’ll never think twice about it again. Why? It’s not fair. Why do I have to live with the repercussions of their actions? Tim, they don’t deserve this! They don’t deserve to be happy!”

You internally cringed at your own dialogue. How immature. But that’s how you felt and you needed to acknowledge it one way or another. The truth was, even after the murmurs that spread like wildfire behind your back and the scalding water they had spat in your face, the countless nights you’d spent trying to erase the trauma of their actions and feelings of hurt and betrayal, life wouldn’t punish them. They were going to carry on.

“Not after the shit they put me through. I can’t stand it. I can’t. And I feel so petty and stupid and spiteful but I can’t just sit here and pretend that seeing them thrive is okay with me. I can sit here and heal and get over it all I want. But at the end of the day, nothing is going to change for them and I hate that. I hate them for it.”

A beat of silence. Your stomach dropped. This was dumb. You were dumb. It’s not a big deal, why were you being so dramatic? He probably thinks you’re annoying and arrogant and—

“You’re not stupid,” he whispered. Your heart started beating again.

Your face contorted as you finally let yourself cry. Your mouth twisted downwards in an open sob, relief flooding your system.

Tim held his arms open and you found yourself falling into them again, muffling your wails in his chest.

“You’re not stupid,” he repeated. “It’s normal for you to be angry. It’s okay for you to hate them. But please, don’t let their happiness ruin yours.”

His hand smoothed soothing circles into the skin of your back. He hesitated before speaking, phrasing and rephrasing the thoughts in his head. Tim was never great with words but you needed them right now.

“You’re right, they don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve anything! But we can’t control that, even if it’s frustrating and we can’t let ourselves focus on it.”

Validation. That’s what you needed. And validation was what he’d given you, calming and resolving the knot in your stomach you’d been suppressing for who knows how long.

The boy let you cry, soaking his shirt with your emotions as he continued to feed his validation to your starved ears until your stuttering breaths grew even and your sobs stilled to silence.

“I hate them,” you muttered as your tears ran dry.

“I hate them too,” he replied. You pulled away to rub your palms to your cheeks, opting to meet your face with the cool night air instead of his torso.

“They’re ugly.” Tim smiled at that.

“Absolutely vile.”

“I hope the next leaf they step on doesn’t crunch,” you quipped, earning a chuckle from the boy. You could feel the subtle vibrations of his laugh tremor through your body, filling your stomach with the butterflies you always associated with loving him.

“I hope they trip on a mine and land face first on a cactus,” he deadpanned. Your faces both twisted as you broke into laughter, exchanging increasingly more concerning ill wishes until eventually you ran out and fell into a comfortable silence.

Tim broke it first.

“Let’s go ice skating.” You gave him a look that he definitely sensed, lights off or not before turning your head pointedly at the alarm clock on your nightstand.

“Tim, it’s almost 2 AM.”

“And?” You could practically hear the eyebrow raise in his voice. But you loved the idea.

“Let’s go.”

mini extended bonus 4 fun

When you got to the public lake it was closed off. The gate surrounding it was locked, not that you were surprised. It closed hours ago.

Accepting the reality of your unrealistic spontaneity, you shifted the bag of skates over onto the other shoulder with a shrug.

“Maybe this wasn’t our best idea.”

Tim snorted. Letting go of your hand, he gave you his own bag to hold as he strutted up to the gate with an air of confidence. Clearly he’d been spending too much time with Dick.

“When you’re dating the Red Robin, there are no such things as locks.”

Kneeling down to the lock, he fiddled with it for a moment before pushing the gate open with ease, dramatically holding his arms up as if expecting applause.

“I know, I know, pretty cool stuff.”

A silent pause followed.

“…Do you just casually have a lockpick on you at all times?”

“…no?”

#batman #damian wayne #dc #dick grayson #fanfic #jason todd #red robin #red robin x reader #tim drake #tim drake fanfic #tim drake x fem!reader #tim drake x male reader #tim drake imagine #timothy jackson drake #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake angst

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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for the made-up fic title game: Tooka Outta the Bag

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it

raisudfah;jsdkf

Ezra and Kanan fall through a Time Hole in the temple on Malachor while Fulcrum is fighting Vader and Maul is doing... whatever the fuck he's doing, IDK, we'll say it's his fault.

And they end up a year before the clone war kicks off! It sucks! Terrible timing, everyone! Kanan is like three seconds away from a mental breakdown about the horrible time this part of his life was about to be at any given moment, or at least he would be if he wasn't busy having a breakdown about how he's just been given a debilitating injury and has no access to bacta or any other way to prevent an infection, because they don't have the ship, just themselves and what they had on their backs.

It's the two of them, with their sabers, and one's at risk of dying if he doesn't get medical attention, because an infection in that kind of wound, that close to the brain? Not great.

So, they... get that handled. IDK how. Hondo, who doesn't know them but does appreciate Ezra's vibes, was involved. Neither of them want to talk about it.

And they kind of get dumped on Coruscant by Hondo and his people, because Ezra really did just make that good of an impression on the prince of pirates, and now it's time to bluff like hell. Kanan can navigate the Temple despite being blind, and it's not just the Force; he definitely grew up here! But nobody in his supposed age group knows him, and Ezra's just kinda. Trailing along. Taking in the sights. Having a time. Sometimes he helps Kanan with reading signs and stuff that Kanan hasn't figured out how to adjust to yet. The Force lets him walking around without hitting walls! It doesn't let him read a datapad, and he hasn't internalized how to turn on the accessibility features yet.

(I want to say that he does use a white cane or similar assistive device for daily stuff, because relying entirely and constantly on the Force sounds exhausting.)

ANYWAY

They don't come out and say they're from the future. Kanan's still half-convinced this is some Empire illusion to get information out of them, and Ezra doesn't trust that easy. So they lie, and hedge, and dither. Kanan feels tiny Caleb Dume walking around, and also Depa's right there, and he tries not to have a mental breakdown.

(Anakin Skywalker nearly gets into a fistfight with Ezra within ten minutes of meeting him.)

(An additional three hours later, and Padawan Skywalker has decided that Ezra's little-brother-shaped.)

(Ezra, who recently learned that Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader, has very mixed feelings on this.)

So we have some plot happen, and assurances from vague force gods and magic owls and giant ethereal wolves that this is, in fact, time travel.

(Fulcrum might be leading Vader on a merry chase around the Outer Rim. Haven't decided.)

And then someone says a thing and it is suddenly and uncomfortably clear to, like, an entire cafeteria's worth of Jedi that these two are from The Future, and the future absolutely sucks.

Ezra, under his breath, just mutters, "Well, Tooka's Outta the Bag now..."

#sw rebels #kanan jarrus #caleb dume #ezra bridger #anakin skywalker #time travel #star wars #this is dumb #Phoenix Answers Memes #eye scream #canon graphic injury tw

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assortedvillainvault · 2 years ago

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Disney Villain Polycule Posts Part 6 - Carnival Delights

Something lighthearted and vaguely stupid, idk it's fun picturing these morons having a nice time. I also share Facilier's rage for hook-a-duck.

Carnival-inclined members of the polycule have a great time swindling the rigged stall games. Oogie, Facilier and, weirdly enough, Jafar.

Set up by locals, travellers and those of an opportunistic nature, the carnival ranges from food stalls to pop up roller-coasters to game stalls to the interactive theatre troupes. It’s a place for fun, and laughter, and joy for all ages!

And rage. So much rage.

“These poles are rigged!!”

Oogie slammed his burlap stubs into the tabletop so hard the whole tent wobbled. The dead-eyed teen at the counter didn’t even look up from his phone.

Look, absolutely no-one ever wins at carnival stalls, but actually catching them in the act of cheating or being rigged seems to be an impossibility. As Oogie found out after being kicked off the fourth ‘shoot-the-bottle’ stall that he filled with ants.

He wasn’t the only one. Facilier had a mighty respect for peddlers and fortune tellers selling tarot readings and crystal balls to make money – hell that’s almost his entire profession – but apparently the line is drawn at predicting great fortune in the near future and then wringing him for every last penny at hook-a-duck.

Only HE’S allowed to swindle people on the other side of that fortune table dammit-!

So if he set up a small table of his own and convinced the good festival goers to partake in HIS readings (while Shadow loosens screws, rips holes in tents and makes off with the cashbox keys of every other stall in the vicinity) then hey, naught better for business than the sweet siren call of the open market, right? How can you blame a hard-workin’ man for making good on a local opportunity for honest cash?

Jafar, who wanted it on record that he was only here because he has literally nothing better to do and somebody had to keep an eye on the chaotic duo that was Oogie and the Doctor, had unexpectedly found himself in a conundrum.

Perusing the food stalls for the kind of sweets he would deny forever having a taste for, he found his eye alighted on the grand prize for the test of strength stall.

While some brash little child screamed with frustration at only smacking the machine halfway up to the bell he found himself admiring the elegant colour composition, the fine needlework, the sophisticated curl and form of the collectible. Indeed, why, it had to be the best prize of the whole fair!

The thought near slapped him across the face.

No! No...He’s the Grand Vizier of Agrabah, a genie, a villain amongst the elite of the realm! A Sorcerer such as he is too sophisticated for such a cheap, low-class thing. He surely has no need for such a petty, childish, frivolous-

The child screamed harder and lunged for the plushie snake with sticky cotton candy hands.

“So you’re tellin’ me that Jafar drop kicked a ten year old, stole a plushie and set the stall on fire when her parents called the guards?”

Oogie giggled as trails of bugs slowly filled the burlap sack back up. “Yup!”

Facilier sighed as another round of armed men clattered toward the billowing smoke a few rows down. “Can’t take him anywhere, huh? I can hear him laughin’ from here. Time to head home?”

“Sure, I stole some more prizes while they were busy puttin’ out the first fire. Reckon Hades likes gummy worms as well as real ones?”

“Here’s hopin'!”

#it's a short and silly little thing #can be read platonically but I do headcannon the DV'Cule as being able to have fun with eachother regardless #Ooogie and doc are dating #jafar can't seem to decide if he wants to date facilier or not #no time for romance here tho- the plushie snake is calling him #the DV'Cule #disney villains #oogie boogie #dr facilier #jafar

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ihatebnha · 3 years ago

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dilf shinso that has beefy arms with arm hair 🥴

i have another dilf shinso ask in my box that i'm too nervous to answer now so i'm just gonna use part of what i had for that here, okay? OKAY.

Dilf Shinso................... such a concept. He's shrunk down to 6'3 in his middle age and probably has one cute daughter who looks just like him, idk. He's always buying her the nicest little dresses and frilled socks and she's so, so smart.

But anyway... that aside. He is so big, beefy and HAIRY, you are right. His sleeves always stretch around his biceps and you can see the outline of his pecks through the fabric more often than not (and especially when it's cold).

He's also got such a wild mane that I'm not sure how anyone could look at him and not think that those areas were covered in a layer of that purple hair, too. Sometimes when he's yawning his shirt will ride up and you'll catch a glimpse of the prettiest happy trail outlining his very soft but very firm abs :((

He's so intimidating the first time you sleep together, not because he's scary but because he's just so big and soooooooooo gorgeous; hair all slicked up and back when he flings off his shirt and crawls on top of you... gentle kisses and slow touches because he doesn't want to ruin what the both of you have by going too fast (he's still vaguely insecure in the dating sense and it's one of the first nights he's had the apartment all to himself in so long, his daughter at a sleepover or something)...

Anyway, uh, anyway, uh, anyway, uh... you wake up on his chest, nose pressed into his hairy chest and he gets so, like !!! and scratches his bedhead while apologizing for accidentally cuddling you butt ass naked. Buys you a coffee later.

My vagina is so moist, I'm deceased.

#shinso #girl dad shinso makes me cry i know his daughter is so spoiled #his most prized possession he'd do anything for her #she wants to go swimming he buys her a pool #she wants to watch soccer he puts her on a team #he takes her to the coffee shop and lets her pick out a treat every time #im feral #i think d*lf!shinso has a daughter first whereas if u and shinso are together when ur young he has a son #idk but MANNNNNA JAKFSDFALSD #ask #anon #caitie post

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chiliiscereal · 4 years ago

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okay i got another one but it’s super vague so idk if you can do anything with it, maybe daryl with a toddler??? i feel like that would be so cute with a baby just choosing daryl and him being like well okay then i’m a dad now i guess idk him with babies just make me soft!😂

Love this idea!

Sorry for how long this took and hope you don’t mind I made it into a headcanon!

Headcanon:

Daryl reacting to Toddler reader

———

- no one knew where your parents were

-I guess that’s what happens when your parents tell you they’re gonna go find more supplies and never return

-the group guessed that the two rotting bodies outside the house were your parents but they preferred not to assume it

-When they found you after the farm was over run they didn’t think they’d ever get you to trust any of them

-you didn’t talk

-didn’t listen

-you just held onto your stuffed toy and looked at the ground

-until you started trailing behind Daryl day after day

-hunting, patrolling, even walking

-you were always following behind him

-it started off when Lori was supposed to watch you

-you escaped her easily

-Daryl was definetely pissed when he first caught you

-hated it even

-especially when you would follow him out into the woods.

-at first he only brought you back so you wouldn’t scare the game

-but you kept following him anyway

-eventually he decided it wasn’t the worst thing in the world if you tagged along

-you were quiet and constantly held onto him

-“I ain’t gonna stop a walker for ya so yer on yer own, got it?”

-a head nod in response

-he said that every time you two went out to hunt

-but he always stopped every Walker

-if anyone asked him about it he’d say:

-“just didn’t want it gettin’ close to me.”

-what a liar

-that was coming from the man that would even keep you with him when the group was just traveling from campsite to campsite.

-whether that was letting you hold onto the fabric of his sleeve or holding you in his arms, it didn’t matter

-everyone could see him growing a soft spot for you

-except him, of course

-“she’s just a parasite. That’s it.”

-he didn’t realize they were right until your stuffed animal ripped at the prison

-you came to him crying and holding it out for him to fix

-when he found himself staying up late that night with Carol, attempting to sew it up, he finally realized you weren’t “just a parasite”

-especially when you first called him Dad

- he gave the stuffed animal back to you that next morning

-“thanks dad!!”

-you clutched that thing to you so hard he swore it’d rip again

-he didn’t say anything

-later he’s said he didn’t because he didn’t want you thinking that he actually was your dad

-but he knew that wasn’t true

-it was because he COULDN’T say anything

-Carol could though

-oh she had plenty of things to say

-“awww, Pookie, you’re a father now!”

-he couldn’t get her to shut up

-“she don’t know what she’s talkin’ bout. Ain’t her dad.”

-but he clearly was now

-especially when you’d come to him crying after a nightmare

-he could hear Carol chuckling to herself when he held you and told you that you were okay

-fine, maybe he WAS your dad after all

#daryl dixon x daughter!reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd imagine #twd fanfiction #twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon #for you #bookish #wattpad #fanfic

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

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examination - overhaul x reader (2.5k)

warnings: dark content. yandere/overly controlling overhaul. non-consensual drugging, medical kink, glove kink, examination, surgical setting kind of, reader is basically a prisoner, choking, mindbroken reader, needles, non-con implied. afab reader, fem pronouns. not sfw, minors dni!

me: might write that overhaul choking drabble today idk. also me: writes this 2.5k shameful bullshit instead

this is the first mha fic i’ve ever written pls be nice to me, i love this horrible horrible man

The leather of the operating table sticks to your bare thighs uncomfortably as you tug the gown down, despite knowing that the small gesture is useless. You will end the ‘examination’ on your back, gown pushed around your hips, feet in stirrups--

The door opening startles you, big doe eyes flying to the door to see him. Half of his face is still covered by the bird-mask that you always see in your nightmares, but the overall expression of his eyes is satisfied. You are exactly where he told you to be, exactly when he told you to be, exactly how he told you to be. It’s not a surprise – he’s aware of how much fear he commandeers – but it’s still pleasing to remember just how thoroughly broken you are.

He doesn’t greet you as he comes to stand by the operating table, his eyes instead roaming over all of the bare skin not covered by the medical gown. You’ve been careful. You know that you’re not bruised, or cut, or scratched – you’d looked at yourself in the mirror before you’d made your way here.

Bare-faced, hair brushed back, skin still looking a little uncomfortable and raw from the thorough scrubbing you’d given yourself. It’s better to pre-empt these things, you’ve learnt.

He lets out a sigh. Gloved fingers come to pinch at his mask and remove it – you lean back automatically, not wanting to breathe on him or anything that might set him off, and you win a light tilt of his lips that’s covered with a clinical black surgical mask a moment after you’ve seen it.

The gloves he’s wearing are tugged off with a furrow of displeasure, dropped onto the tray beside him as he snaps the new dark latex ones over his hands and wrists instead. Seeing his bare hands always makes a flash of fear go through you. He does not threaten, in so many words – but sometimes, if you displease him, he tugs at the wrist and you feel coldness drench your back.

“Open your mouth,” he says, detached. He always talks like that to you; still, you occasionally hear talk of what he’s like with those who have displeased him, and you think perhaps his cool detachment as he probes and pokes and prods at you is preferable to the other options. Two of his fingers push on your lower lip, forcing your jaw wider until you ache. “Stick out your tongue.”

You think actual doctors use some kind of tool for this; you don’t think they press two long fingers onto their patient’s tongues so that your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, the taste of rubbery latex flooding your senses. You just manage to stop yourself gagging; there’s no telling what he’ll do if you do that with his fingers still in your mouth.

“Hmm.” He says, golden eyes trailing over your tongue. You are not aware of the throb of heat that goes through him at the sight of you, docile and obedient, your mouth wide open for him. He is an expert in making sure his feelings do not project onto his face. “I’ll up your vitamin dose.” He pulls his fingers out, eyes narrowing in displeasure as he changes out the glove on the hand that was on your tongue.

You sometimes wonder how many pairs he goes through, and let yourself have a brief smile at the thought of how much of the Shie Hassaikai’s budget must be devoted to things like surgical masks and latex gloves and anti-bacterial hand gels. Certainly, your little room in the compound must have cost a pretty penny in all of the vitamins and supplements and other various medications that Overhaul tells you to take.

Another vitamin. Your face is falling before you can stop it, and school your features into a blank mask. He does not miss the change; you are usually so good for him.

(You don’t need to be taking half of the things that Overhaul makes sure are emptied into your too-large pillbox. But you’re easier, sweeter and more pliant when you’re so drugged up you can barely open your eyes.)

“Is there something wrong?”

There’s a knife edge to his voice. Your shoulders shrink in, fear evident in every inch of your expression. Thumb and forefinger come to grip your chin, jerking it harshly so you’re looking directly upwards into narrowed, golden eyes.

“I asked you a question. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

A knot of fear in your throat almost stops you from speaking; but that fear, you know, will be tenfold if you make him madder than you already seem to have. Overhaul doesn’t shout; but his cool, clinical tone and the dangerous glint of his iris is just as frightening as if he did.

“I already take so many,” you whisper, your voice very quiet, cracking. You don’t speak much anymore. His face twitches.

“Perhaps a throat spray, too,” he says, evenly. The fingers on your face trail down, and you bite back a whimper as suddenly both of his hands are on your neck, thumbs pressing directly into your windpipe. He doesn’t press, yet, but the danger lingers there as he keeps his gaze on you. “You sound scratchy.”

(He thinks of a throat numbing spray; of your sleepy, dazed eyes as he pushes himself further inside. He might make you bleed, or tear something, he supposes – but his quirk was made for quickly fixing such flaws, even if he was the one to have made them.)

He presses one thumb down, relishing in the soft wheeze that issues forth from your mouth; the terrified, deer-in-headlights shine of your eyes under fluorescent lighting.

“S-sorry, ‘m sorry--” You manage, voice sounding even drier than before. Overhaul tips his head to one side to consider you. You certainly look sorry, pathetic as you are. But . . . not good enough. Your neck feels good under his hands. He presses the other thumb.

Your hand flies up as if you’re going to grab his forearm, but flutters before it does. You force it back down, curling your fingers around the edge of the operating table – good. He doesn’t know how he’d have punished you if you’d been so bold as to touch him without permission or asking, but he knows you won’t have liked it.

You hate the feeling of the latex gloves on your bare skin; hate the squeaking sound they make when they rub against something, hate the cloying scent of them that lingers wherever Overhaul goes.

The fingers wrapped around the back of your neck dig in, too. He’s pressing too hard, restricting too much airflow – you try and take a hurried breath of air, but nothing can get through the blockage. Your lips suddenly feel very numb. Panic is flooding your senses, as well as a vague sense of . . . nothing.

If Overhaul chokes you out right now, and keeps going until you’re limp and your heart stops beating, nobody will do anything. Nobody will care. The thought is strangely comforting.

He releases the pressure, turning away in distaste as you let out a series of distressed little coughs. You manage to get your wrist in front of your mouth before you cough everywhere, but an antiseptic wipe is still pressed into your other hand forcefully before you’ve even stopped choking.

“What do you say?” He asks you, as he turns back to the medical trolley as if he didn’t just come seconds away from killing you. His gloved hand brushes various silvery medical tools, not all of which you recognise, and your heart misses a beat in fear at the sight of the surgical blades. He ignores those ones, thankfully, instead settling on a syringe.

You’re not sure what’s in this one, but you don’t ask. He’ll tell you as he does it; you no longer know how truthful he is, but it’s not like it matters.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you manage, through the hazy mess that is your poor oxygen-deprived brain. “I-I’ll t-take whatever you tell me to take.”

“I do it for your own good,” he tells you, tapping the syringe with one gloved finger. He looks at it with that same bored, unreadable expression. You wonder if you could tell what he was thinking better if he didn’t wear the mask. “I just don’t want you to be sick.”

He stresses the word. He is always talking about how filthy and ill and diseased the rest of the world is. You swallow again. You should be grateful. You should. Should be grateful that, for all he tells you is wrong with you and plies you with medicines and drugs and vitamins, he doesn’t think you’re sick enough to just outright disassemble you and put you back together.

You hold your arm out, hoping your compliance will make some of his anger at your outburst fade. His eyes linger on the pinprick bruises of your inner elbow, the side he usually injects.

“Just a painkiller,” he says to you, but you don’t believe him.

He doesn’t give you a warning the way nurses used to when you had to be injected as a child. The needle presses into your skin immediately, almost too deep, and you’re immeasurably glad that Overhaul doesn’t see the flinch on your face because he’s too busy watching the liquid be injected directly into your bloodstream.

Needle out. Gauze. Medical tape. He is practised, clinical, careful as he bandages the site of the injection.

(It’ll kick in in about fifteen minutes, he thinks. By then, you’ll have your back flat and your feet in stirrups and you won’t say anything as he presses three gloved fingers inside of you. All you’ll do is let your breath catch, your hips jerk, your eyes hazy and unfocused as the tranquiliser works its magic.)

An alarm sounds from the device wrapped around your wrist.

“Ah,” he says. “I’ll give you the new vitamin now, then. Just a moment.”

He strides over to the other side of the room and you are well-trained enough to not let your eyes follow him, as perfectly organised cupboards are opened and the rattle of pills echoes in your ears.

You turn the bracelet around your wrist off. It’ll beep again once more, later on, for your third lot of medications. Once in the morning, to both wake you up and to tell you to take your first cocktail of pills. Overhaul never usually sees you until the afternoon unless he wants to check on something, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you rot in bed hating your life all day.

(You are permitted some books, some hobbies that Overhaul does not think will be damaging to your poor health and that don’t make a mess. There is a half-finished embroidery in your desk drawer, a jigsaw puzzle you must have done twenty times spread out over the desk proper, origami animals in a neat line on your bedside table.)

The second alarm goes off at five fifteen. You are supposed to be in this room – you always consider it the surgery room, though it’s more of an examination room than anything else. You’re not permitted to wander the upstairs of the base at your leisure, much less the cavernous underground hallways, so you often wonder what else Overhaul is hiding down here. Overhaul gives you these drugs himself; sometimes this particular cocktail features some new tablet that you’ve never taken before. He watches you take them with the eyes of a hawk, checking underneath your tongue to make sure you’ve swallowed them all.

And the last lot are taken before you go to bed (half nine in the evening, always. Overhaul says a routine for you is integral to keeping you well).

He’s back. One small cup full of rattling pills and medication is given to you, and a half glass full of purified water from the water filter jug in the refrigerator.

He watches you tip the small cup back, watches the bob of your throat as you trustingly swallow them.

You don’t bother looking inside of it before you do this; you probably won’t recognise half of what it is, anyway. You’re going to take them no matter what, so you have decided perhaps it’s better the devil you do not know.

A gulp of cold water, too loud. You’re given a tissue to wipe your mouth.

You’re suddenly getting very tired. Your arms feel very heavy, your mouth dry, your head stuffed with cotton wool. You blink so slowly you feel like you’re wading through a marsh.

“Mouth open,” he’s saying, again, and you do it so he can check you’ve taken the medication, but it sounds and feels like he’s very far away. If you spoke aloud right now, you feel certain that your words would come out slurred and unrecognisable. “Good.”

Your brain attaches itself to the phrase. He so rarely praises you. You feel your mouth pull at the corners, your smile somnolent and pliant. You cannot see the way Overhaul smirks at your expression underneath his mask, but you can see the pleased light reflecting in his eyes.

“Last examination,” he tells you, brusquely. “Lean back. Feet up. You know what to do, don’t you?”

You do! You’ve done this one a hundred times. A soft giggle escapes from your lips as you swing your legs slowly onto the table and the back is readjusted by Overhaul’s own steady hands to make you comfortable. It is comfortable, despite the cold, sticky leather. You miss the stirrup the first time, and you hear Overhaul click his tongue as you’re forcibly pushed into them. It’s not your fault. You always feel drowsy after taking your medicine, but today is even worse than usual--

“Just relax,” he tells you. Latex-covered fingers rest on your outer thighs, pushing the thin medical gown up so that the hem is ruched up around your waist. “Close your eyes. This will be cold--”

You close your eyes and let out a soft sigh as slick, cold fingers (you suppose that he lubricated them, and you’re grateful – he’s not always so kind) gently prod at the space between your legs.

You could fall asleep, right here, you think – which is absurd. You shouldn’t be feeling so heavy and tired and comfortable whilst your . . . you never have quite the right words to describe what Overhaul is to you, but the fact remains that you shouldn’t be so trusting and naive as to fall asleep here with fingers that have killed probing your slit.

You can hear a clock ticking as if it’s somewhere very far away. You can hear Overhaul’s meticulous, even breathing – like even that has to be perfectly in time, perfectly meted out. You can feel your own erratic heartbeat, like a bird trapped in your chest.

You shouldn’t fall asleep, you shouldn’t fall asleep--

You watch fireworks and swirls and patterns on the inside of your eyelids like you’re at a festival; the kind you are no longer allowed to attend, lest somebody’s sickness rub off on you. Watching your own in your mind seems like the next best thing.

You drop into oblivion.

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