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peopleiveghosted · 1 year

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anti-hero is not "overrated" it's actually just that good, an essay of sorts

so. earlier today, i was talking to myself (as you do), and while pacing my sister's living room floor, my imaginary conversation partner had some Bad Opinions about taylor swift's "anti-hero". and i was so mad at myself for not being able to immediately put to words why this song deserves all its hype, is a lyrical masterpiece, and means a lot to me, that i immediately sat down and almost gave myself carpal tunnel while typing out this line-by-line analysis of its lyrics. nothing i say could ever be as eloquent or well-put as the lyrics themselves, but nevertheless, in case anyone needs to be validated in how much they love this song, or doesn't understand why this song is such a hit with so many people, here it is. here goes.

VERSE 1

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

bam. open with an absolute BANGER of a line. this line does one of the things that taylor does best, which is flipping a well-used and overly trite phrase on its head. how many times have i heard the phrase "older and wiser"? and how many times have people told me that those who are older don't actually have their lives together, don't actually know what they're doing any more than i do, and that they're just as lost no matter how much more "life experience" they have? this line also sets up the theme of feeling like you'll never learn, and continuing down a road to ruin because you don't know how to do anything else, which becomes very prevalent throughout the song

Midnights become my afternoons

line 2 continues along the same vein of flipping things on their head. older doesn't equal wiser, midnights are actually afternoons. the theme of the album comes in (things that keep her up at night). in plain words: she's wide awake at midnight

When my depression works the graveyard shift / All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

okay i really didn't want to say "cmon. it's self-explanatory." but CMON. IT'S SELF-EXPLANATORY. that's a fucking GENIUS LINE must i REALLY explain it? if i MUST, it's following the last line (about how she's wide awake in the middle of the night) to say that her depression is what's keeping her up, and when her depression keeps her up, the people she's "ghosted" (if you're not a native english speaker/are unfamiliar with the colloquial definition of this word, it means to avoid/ignore someone, often with no explanation. not replying to texts, ignoring them on social media, not answering their calls, blocking them, etc.) are like actual ghosts, haunting her, standing there and watching her with accusatory gazes in the middle of the night. aka she cant sleep because she's thinking about all the people she's hurt or cut off in the past.

PRE-CHORUS 1

I should not be left to my own devices / They come with prices and vices / I end up in crisis (Tale as old as time)

okay. quadruple rhyme? all right, taylor, i see you. spitting fire. continuing the story from the first verse, she's by herself (left to her own devices) and going down a late-night spiral, and when she's left to her own thoughts bad things happen. and i'd argue the second part of the line (they come with prices and vices) is ambiguous in who she hurts. the last part (I end up in crisis) implies she's the one hurting herself when she's left to her own thoughts, but "prices and vices" doesn't say who's paying the price (her or the people around her?) and when someone gives into their vices, they often hurt their loved ones too. this line is mainly about self-destructive tendencies, late-night spiraling, bad thoughts, the consequences of bad thoughts, but i'd also say that combined with the fact that it immediately follows "all of the people i've ghosted" this line is also about how she's self-aware of all the people she's hurt. and that's the source of her "crisis" (though, of course, it could be a nod to 'existential crisis' which has become a phrase that's well known amongst our generation). "Tale as old as time" --- she's not special. everyone has experienced this. but also, she's done this so many times, but she never learns (gotten older, but not wiser)

I wake up screaming from dreaming / One day, I'll watch as you're leaving / 'Cause you got tired of my scheming (For the last time)

ANOTHER QUADRUPLE RHYME. here enters the elusive "you" she's addressing. they seem to be a partner, or at least someone very close to her. the idea of taylor "scheming" or being a mastermind/manipulator is one that's existed in media and is acknowledged/addressed throughout this album, but even within the context of just this song, it nods to the fact that she likes to overthink, is anxious and overplans, stays up all night. she's obsessive, and she thinks she'll end up alone because of it (meeeeeeeeeeeeee)

CHORUS

It's me, hi / I'm the problem, it's me

memeable. catchy. a very simple line, but that's what makes it such a gut-punch. the epitome of what someone who literally can't sleep at night because of things they've done or at least think they've done says to themselves

At teatime, everybody agrees

she's imagining everyone she knows over afternoon tea talking about how she's the problem and how they hate her. i have also done this. i think most people who are anxious, especially socially anxious, have wondered if everyone actually secretly hates them, and are just too polite to say so to their face.

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

another "c'mon it's self-explanatory" line. my jaw literally dropped when i first heard this line. she'd rather blind herself, hurt herself by staring directly at the sun, than face her own reflection. she can't bear to look at herself. self-loathing at its peak

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

this can very easily be read as taylor talking to her fans: it must be so hard being my fan, when i'm the "anti-hero" aka someone who lacks all the traditionally heroic attributes. but in other words, outside the specific context of taylor and her fandom, this line can read as "i'm the opposite of everything people like or want to champion. it must be so much work, loving someone like me."

VERSE 2

Sometimes, I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

"sexy baby" is meant to be an oxymoron here. she thinks everyone but her has found out how to be both "sexy" (mature, attractive, confident) and a "baby" (innocent, young, blameless). knowing taylor, it's likely specifically a nod to the stereotypically (but not necessarily exclusively!) female experience of having to be both sexy but not too sexy as to be a slut. you have to have it, but not flaunt it. you have to be physically mature (have that hourglass figure, tits and ass, etc., and be aware enough of it to know how to look good but not TOO good) but mentally pure (like a child, untouched by the world, not jaded, still full of wonder despite everything). i've heard people say this line makes them feel uncomfortable, because the idea of "sexy babies" is weird and off-putting to them, but that's kind of the point. it's an uncomfortable idea because it shouldn't exist and mixes two concepts (sexiness and babies) that people don't often put together, thereby showing how society puts an impossible, unnatural, and perverse double standard on people (particularly women).

And I'm a monster on the hill / Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

she thinks she's the opposite of the idealized "sexy baby" expectation that, in this moment, she imagines everyone else has managed to achieve. she's just this big monster. "too big" to me clearly speaks to body image issues. and it might be easy to be like "it's taylor swift, what does she know about body image issues?" but that's like. kinda part of why this line hits? even taylor swift has these problems. and the image of something large and unsightly and inelegant, moving in such a way that's more like "lurching" and coming to destroy everything you love…and the fact that that's how she sees herself, at least in this moment? more self-loathing, obviously. that's the theme of the song

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

continuing the monster metaphor. she's the monster, so people attack her, and it hurts. it pierces her straight in the heart. but it never kills her. and in the movies, in this story, people always want the monster to die. the monster is the antagonist. so not only does she have to live through and suffer this pain, this pain that pierces her straight through the heart, she thinks no one wants her to live, that no one's on her side, that no one's cheering for her. she's attacked over and over, but she always gets back up, and that's a bad thing, because she's the monster. her efforts to keep going is to the detriment to everyone/everything around her, she's a blight just for existing.

PRE-CHORUS 2

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism / Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

triple rhyme! sorry for constantly pointing the obvious out, but it amazes me that not only does she manage to eloquently state these complex ideas in very few words, but she manages to rhyme at the same time. i'm so bad at rhyming, so this just blows my mind, even if here the last one is more of a slant rhyme. it's still close enough to work and be satisfying. the opening words are "did you hear" which again, refers to how she's imagining what everyone must be saying about her. and the covert narcissism that's actually altruism? like…i have this exact fear. "am i really altruistic/a good person? or am i only pretending to be a good person because i'm a narcissist who wants praise and attention, only doing it because it looks good to other people rather than out of any innate goodness (like a congressman just trying to win an election)?"

I wake up screaming from dreaming / One day, I'll watch as you're leaving / And life will lose all its meaning (For the last time)

she has a fear of losing that important person and having nothing left. and this time, she won't survive it. following the second verse, to me it also means that she won't get back up this time, it's the end of the line, the monster will finally be slain (and isn't that what everyone wants anyway?)

CHORUS 2 (repeat)

BRIDGE

I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money She thinks I left them in the will The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out "She's laughing up at us from Hell"

okay this part actually took me quite awhile to figure out. but once i got it, it absolutely destroyed me.

i (me, the person writing this analysis) have these things i call "fear fantasies." basically, if you think of a nightmare (a bad dream you have while sleeping) and a daydream (a happy thing you imagine while ur awake), then a "fear fantasy" is a nightmare/daydream where you're awake, but your mind just spirals into this nightmare of an overly-specific, self-punishing, weirdly gleefully masochistic imagining where something terrible happens to you or someone around you. i feel like a lot of people with anxiety will know exactly what i'm talking about. but if you're lucky enough to not count as one of those people, just know this: some people spin stories of worst-case scenarios in their head that are highly specific, highly unlikely, and very terrible for no decipherable reason other than perhaps self-torture and an inexplicable craving for suffering and self-punishment. it's irrational, hard to explain, and mostly, not under our control. it just happens.

that's what she's describing here, though she does describe it as a "dream" instead of a "daydream" so it's not an exact match with my "fear fantasies". basically, she has this dream, and it's a dream where she hypothesizes about something terrible happening. it's overly-dramatized, probably unrealistic, definitely a case of catastrophizing. in fact, in the music video, she plays it for laughs, like she's making fun of her own imagination. but in actuality, when she's imagining it in the middle of the night, or dreaming, it probably feels very real.

and what is that worst-case scenario?

the worst-case scenario isn't even that her family hates her so much they kill her because all they really want is her money. it's the idea that that's all that will be left of her legacy, which she didn't even bequeath to anyone, because she lived knowing she was unloved and hated. "what if, after everything i've achieved, it all amounts to nothing because i have no one to share it with? and what if that was my fault? what if, at the end of it all, i have nothing left in me but my spite, so i die hated by everybody while hoarding my money?" it's not just "what if i had a daughter-in-law that hated me" it's "i put no one in my will out of spite, because i hated them too, i was the problem, and maybe even, i deserved to be killed for being so horrible and petty, and so, my death is not a cause for grief, and my only revenge is their outrage." it's "my existence is one that's so loveless that all i can breed is hatred, amongst those closest to me and within myself." it's "i'm so profoundly lonely, and i can't think of a reason for why i'm so alone except that something must be very wrong with me, but i don't know what it is or if it's even possible to fix it, so i'm just going to lie here and imagine what the end of such an existence would look like: ugly, nothing but petty drama, inconsequential, ultimately forgettable, and full of hate, just like the rest of me."

and then the song begins to wind down with the breakdown of "it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me" repeated over and over until she hisses "everybody agrees, everybody agrees" just to drive home that idea of literally everyone hating her, including herself.

and finally, the chorus one more time. ending with "it must be exhausting, always rooting for the anti-hero" aka, as i said, "it must be so hard, to love me" (which is why no one does, not even myself)

#taylor swift #swiftie #anti-hero #midnights #lyrics #lyrical analysis #song analysis #meta #clod wishes she could shut up #i might do this for my other favorite taylor song #which is my tears ricochet #i cannot decide which of these two is my favorite taylor song #maybe after i write out a complete analysis of both i'll be able to decide #or maybe not #my post #hashtag not projecting at all #clearly i am Unwell #and im not saying that's taylors fault #but she DID write the song /j

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abronzeagegod · 1 year

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ETS WIP Chapter 12: Here's The Problem, It's a Big One

[first]|[more]

"How do you know I'm the real one?" Aeth asked Lyta as they looked down at the dead body of the nightmare.

Lyta looked at Aeth. "Really?"

"There are weirder things out there. I can be anyone! Anything!"

"There's only one of you and you're it."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because the Aeth I know and love doesn't have a body that looks like a shed skin and eat and consume people. And you came first."

"But-"

Lyta cut off their existential crisis with pure, simple, concrete statement. "You are you. That's how it works. This thing is not you because it couldn't be by virtue of being itself."

"What?"

"Exactly," Lyta said firmly.

"But-"

"Nope."

Aeth clearly wasn't allowed to have a moment of self-doubt with Lyta around. Not about their nightmares becoming them.

"Why is my apartment so cold and covered in snow?"

Lyta finally faltered. "That's a longer story."

Several minutes later when Aeth had recovered enough and get into a shower, with Lyta outside cleaning up she explained.

"My magic font was all rage and vengeance and with this Swwarm app doing something weird to everyone is was super mad, I was super mad, and I was basically overflowing with magic. When I finally snapped out of whatever was happening I raced over here," Lyta explained as she tried, and failed, to mop the snow up.

"Why did you choose rage and vengeance?" Aeth asked loudly from within the shower.

"I didn't really, I built a font and kind of had to figure it out."

"Why is your rage cold?"

"Look, we can get into this all day later, and I'm happy to talk about this with you, but there's a whole thing with this App that seems terrible and I'm covered in magic power, and your nightmare got out. This all feels bad."

"I was looking into it before... everything," Aeth said as they finally turned the shower off.

"What did you find out?" Lyta asked from her position outside the bathroom door. She had given up trying to clean up the snow. She hadn't fully managed to desummon her sword and it wasn't helping so she just kind of gave up and leaned against the wall outside Aeth's bathroom.

Aeth exited the bathroom with a towel around their head and a fluffy bathrobe on. Whatever they said was lost on Lyta.

Even though it wasn't an especially sexy look, or anything even remotely revealing, Lyta was still a bit stunned. Aeth was here, they were back, they were looking cleaned and better, and that made Lyta so inexplicably happy.

"What? Do I have something on my face still?"

"No. You look fine. I'm just happy to see you."

Aeth moved quickly into their room because suddenly they felt very hot despite the freezing temperatures in the apartment. "As I was saying. I went looking into the app and it's all very suspicious."

"Suspicious how?"

"It basically has no listed creator, team, company, or anything that would indicate it was actually an app that was made."

"As opposed to what?"

"A virus."

"To like harvest data or something?"

There was silence before Aeth came out in their favorite worn overalls and black tank top. "This is my new crazy idea, so hear me out."

"Always."

"I think this app is a ritual, something to make people tense and on edge."

Lyta stopped to consider it, and to consider Aeth. "For what purpose?"

"Chaos? Maybe? Or to feed off our anger or something."

Lyta frowned, "I don't know this feels like we're missing something."

"I have notes I was making, some of them are still open on my phone."

"You remember what they were?"

Aeth shook their head. "I don't everything has been a bit fuzzy the last couple of days."

Lyta frowned. "Just be careful. I still have a terrible feeling about this whole thing."

Aeth went to find their phone, itself a small task, since 3812 didn't use the thing and Aeth couldn't remember where they left it since the whole vent started. When they did eventually find it underneath the the dining room table.

They reached for their phone, put in their password, and things immediately went wrong.

A purple-pink tentacle reached out of the phone screen and swiped at Aeth.

They quickly dropped the phone as the tentacle drew blood. The moment the phone hit the floor another three tentacles drew themselves out of the phone screen and started to flail around madly to prevent anyone from getting close.

Lyta, without thinking, summoned and threw a frozen spear at the phone. The fractal blade cut the device in half and embedded itself in the floor.

"What the hell?" Lyta asked.

Aeth rubbed the back of their hand. The cut wasn't that bad. Their heart was pounding though, and wasn't showing any signs of slowing down.

"What do we do now?" Lyta asked. "Is there somewhere we can go? Someone we can talk to? This is getting so far out of hand that I don't even know what to do."

"I have one idea. It might not be the best idea though."

"Am I going to hate this?"

"No. But it might be awkward."

Several minutes later, and inside of Lyta's car, that mercifully hadn't been ticketed or towed, Aeth gave their friend directions.

The drive was the opposite of pleasant. It was deeply terrible actually. More so than usual it felt like no one was able to drive. The road rage was heightened and Lyta was holding on to the wheel with both hands and a grip that could crush glass.

They were cut off constantly, with people driving recklessly and distracted.

Lyta's grip on her anger was tenuous at best, if it wasn't for Aeth being next to her she might have lost it and succumbed back to the anger spiral.

The drive took entirely too much time, but they finally made it.

Their destination was a small, cozy looking house. It felt like a home.

A small child runs out of the house to greet them as Lyta parked the car in front.

"Hey!" she screams in the bright voice of a happy child that can only communicate the sheer level of happiness via screaming. "Sir Lance Corporal wanted to see you! He's gonna be so excited to see you!"

"What the fuck is happening?" Lyta whispered to Aeth.

"It's a very long story, but this is a place where we might be able to get something to help us out."

i have a kofi if you'd like to leave a tip to encourage me to write more

#eldritch tech support #everyone has magic!#and everyone has problems some of which are more dire than others

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valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn · 2 years

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episode 2-

Mobius: Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kind of ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I’m just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this. My own glorious purpose. Because the TVA is my life. And it’s real because I believe it’s real. Loki: So everything is written. Past, present, future. There’s no such thing as free will. Mobius: Well, I mean, you know, it’s an oversimplification. Loki: So in fact, in a way, you and I, here at the TVA, we’re the only ones who are actually free. Mobius: Where are you going with this, Loki? Loki: How does it all end? Mobius: That’s a work in progress.

episode 5-

Mobius: All that time, I really believed we were the good guys. Sylvie: Annihilating entire realities, orphaning little girls, classic hero stuff. Mobius: Well, I guess when you think the ends justify the means, there’s not much you won’t do. By the way, you did some annihilating too. Sylvie: I did what I had to do. Mobius: Yeah, so did I. Sylvie: You hunted me like a dog. Mobius: I’m sorry about that.

episode 6-

Mobius: I think people are ready to hear a little truth now. You know, like the TVA is a lie. Ravonna Renslayer: But what if it’s a necessary one? Someone created the Time Keepers. They created this whole place. They gave us all purpose. I have to believe they had a reason. Mobius: No, because I’ve seen the horror waiting for people when they get pruned, and there’s nothing necessary about that. Ravonna Renslayer: You know what would happen if we didn’t prune the Timeline? Mobius: What? Ravonna Renslayer: Chaos. Death. Mobius: Free will?

I wanted to line these three conversations up because it becomes clear just how much Mobius refuses to take any kind of moral responsibility. He honestly tries to play moral high ground against Ravonna when earlier that day he had Loki continuously beaten because he was angry he ran away. What was so necessary about that? He really is great at lying to himself.

You know, when you put it like that it almost feels like it could have worked with Mobius falling victim to the propaganda to realizing the truth and turning his back on the TVA... that's what Mikey wanted to do but it doesn't work if he doesn't take any responsibility for his actions.

It makes no sense to have a character who has spent years or decades (if not more) working for the TVA and believing their lies, finally finding out the truth and instead of having an existential crisis he blames everyone around him but himself. That's not a logical reaction at all!

He should hate himself, he should be devastated from all the pain and death he has caused, he should be apologizing profusely to Loki - hell, even to Sylvie - and aching to make amends. But he shows no signs of any of that, if anything he's delighted about that "free will" he despised just a few hours earlier.

Mikey imbued him with all that shallow morality when he speaks to Ravonna but his words fall flat precisely because he feels no responsibility for any of it. The time loop was Mobius' call, not hers - what, he doesn't feel bad about that? Isn't he supposed to be oh so morally responsible now?

She didn't do it on her own, in fact she ordered the missions but he is the one who carried them out. Renslayer's reaction is far more believable than Mobius'.

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bondsmagii · 2 years

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Having an existential crisis right now and I shall come to your inbox like a sinner comes to a priest.

So I'm 25, college dropout, barely held a job (like did it for 2 months) and am completely supported by my parents. I'm in every aspect the definition of failure, right? Objectively. Some part was due to mental illness, but mostly me being a lazy and stupid asshole who didn't know what to do with their lives. And then I realized I wanted to be an artist, right? Like one does. And I'm pretty good at it also, think I might have a chance, had some interest in my little art. Very happy. But, but, sadly, to me and all the nation, my parents are rich white awful conservatives who have a very heavy foot on local politics. So, you know, giving the culture of accountability, which I do support, I would've been canceled if I ever attempted to be an artist, which is understandable. Like I've had enormous privileges that were born out of shitty shitty ways. And while I can justify it as a minor, I don't think that being like "well I was a little sad and a little lost and did bad choices" is an excuse when you're a grown ass adult. I directly benefited from money earned by bad ways and just being supported by hateful hateful harmful people. It's like they calling out Benedict cumbebatch for their family being slave owners, you know? You might not have directly done the harm but you did benefit from it. I did benefit from it - everything I ever had and eaten and done was paid for with my dad being an asshole politician. Anyway, I know I can't pursue art, you know? Like I know it. I understand it. I know it's my fault for not leaving early and not getting my shit together and if I ever had a fighting chance of not being an asshole and associated with my family of assholes that chance was turning 18 and leaving - which I didn't do. And it's not like I don't plan on leaving, I absolutely do. Want to get my shit together and cut this people off as soon as possible. But it makes me so sad that I cannot pursue art bc of this. I try to imagine my dream life, like everyone does, and even then when I dream of being an accomplished writer, i can only imagine me being canceled and publicly shamed for coming out of this shitty ass rich family and everything I ever did stained in an irreparable way. In my dreams I'm jk rowling and my past is like her tweeting. A whole life of work and creation destroyed and ruined. People feeling ashamed of even having liked your art to begin with. Like Man, i could even be acused of nepotism, although it truly never played any part on anything. My parents give two shots about art and have no contact with the art world whatsoever. But still, you know, son of a politician. Plus its not only bc of them but bc of my past actions, I am the stereotypical entitled asshole who doesn't work and dropped out of college and fucked up in general. I didn't mean to be one, it just happened I guess. It infuriates me, I wish I could go back to 18 year old me and drag my ass out of the bed and just like beat the shit out of me. Wish I could do it to last year me too, to be honest. Turning 25 really does change a men's perspective. Not that I didn't know I was a failure, but I was quite prone to outsourcing the guilt, you know.

Well, anyways, I know I don't deserve pity or anything like that I mean cmon, but by God did I manage to fuck myself over thoroughly by just doing nothing. Literally doing nothing. It's very frustrating, feeling your past eat your future alive. Undescriblale grief, truly. Anyway, probably gonna become a history teacher now. Go back to college.

But it feels like I will never be able to erase my parents fingerprints of my life tho and everything I ever do will be derivative of the privilege they gave me growing up, which wouldn't be a bad thing, if I didn't fucking hate them and they weren't awful ppl.

Inescapable hell, I tell you. Deserved, I know. It's like that tiktok song "I know I fucked up but jesus".

Yeah anyway

Thank you for hearing my confession bc like father have I sinned.

I say all of this in the absolute kindest way, anon, and with the disclaimer that I firmly believe that nobody is undeserving of redemption and everybody deserves the chance to be happy: this is absolutely delusional, and I'm sorry that you've come to think this way. I am so sorry that you feel you need to live a half-life you're completely lacking passion for, based on these ridiculous arbitrary ideas on who is "allowed" to produce art. I'm sorry that you've been led to believe that the mistakes and choices we make as young people define the rest of our lives and we're not allowed to move on from them. and I'm sorry that you've been made to feel like you will never escape the shadow of your parents. all of this is absolutely false, and I sincerely hope you rethink. I'm going to go through a few things that stood out to be here, because Christ, anon, this is not the way.

So, you know, giving the culture of accountability, which I do support, I would've been canceled if I ever attempted to be an artist, which is understandable.

no, it's not. the current culture of accountability, like many things, came from a place of genuine desire to hold the people doing society the most harm to account. it was designed to call out billionaires and millionaires, and corrupt police forces, and parasitic business practises, and organisations like Hollywood and colleges that covered up constant sexual assault and harrasment, and other things of a similarly insidious calibre. it was never designed for small fry like your parents, who, while perhaps terrible, have likely not done anywhere near this level of damage. even if they have, it was never designed for the children of these people. unless the child grows up, learns better, and still choses to be ignorant and go into the family business, the blame does not rest with them. this level of accountability -- that the child is accountable for the sins of the parent -- is more in line with Soviet Russia or North Korea. it is deranged.

you know better now. take steps to get away and become self-sufficient. you do not deserve to be "held accountable" for being a minor child, and then being a dumb idiot in your early 20s. you are 25 years old. that's an impressively young age to screw your head on right. I know people twice your age (literally!) who still can't admit they've been assholes in the past. you have the rest of your life to learn and do the right thing. denying yourself the life you want in order to beat yourself up over these made-up "crimes" is akin to white guilt in the way that it helps absolutely nobody and "makes up" for nothing. not to mention coming off as self-centred and conceited, putting yourself at the centre of something that harmed others, which is obviously not what you're going for. you do not need to do penance for the rest of your life because you were born to assholes.

And while I can justify it as a minor, I don't think that being like "well I was a little sad and a little lost and did bad choices" is an excuse when you're a grown ass adult.

you are only 25. this idea that all these young people on TikTok or Twitter or whatever have absolutely spotless political credentials is a lie. you made bad choices. you recognised they were bad. now you want to avoid repeating those choices. you have made a mistake and learned from it, and become a better person. that's how it's supposed to work. you don't fuck up and then have to retire from life forever. I will sooner trust somebody who openly admits to being privileged and ignorant in the past than someone who claims they never had a problem with it, and I do not subscribe to the idea that the more oppressed you are, the better you are morally. the best among us are those who fuck up and learn and admit and accept their capacity to cause harm. the worst among us are those who think they're immune to learning, always right, and incapable of doing wrong.

Anyway, I know I can't pursue art, you know? Like I know it.

you are wrong. all art is worth something. every human on the planet has the right to create art and be appreciated for it. it is not something you "earn" the right to do by being adequately oppressed. everyone has something worth saying, and the problem is with industries that amplify certain art over others, not the artists and their backgrounds. it is also fully possible to use your privilege and contacts to shine light on issues and artists that deserve more attention. the idea that if you're too privileged you're not "allowed" to make art, or you have nothing worth saying, is absolutely fucking insane and is not an attitude you come across among normal, intelligent people.

Like Man, i could even be acused of nepotism, although it truly never played any part on anything.

the wonderful thing about callout culture is that you could be accused of anything some random, bitter, uncharitable user decides. I have been accused of being a genocide supporter, a neo-Nazi, a transphobe, and a paedophile. you'll learn quickly as a writer that people who do this are stupid as shit and nobody with a braincell listens to them. I strongly recommend spending more time offline to recalibrate yourself to how normal people think.

Plus its not only bc of them but bc of my past actions, I am the stereotypical entitled asshole who doesn't work and dropped out of college and fucked up in general. I didn't mean to be one, it just happened I guess. It infuriates me, I wish I could go back to 18 year old me and drag my ass out of the bed and just like beat the shit out of me. Wish I could do it to last year me too, to be honest.

we all wish this. I was a cunt at 18. I was a cunt at 21. I was a cunt probably up until I was 26, so congrats, you're a year ahead of me. you know better now. you fully deserve to learn from your mistakes and be allowed the opportunity to be a better person. nobody on the planet is immune from being an asshole, especially at this age. you are right on track, at the age where most people mature and grow out of their assholishness. this is not some irredeemable flaw that you possess because of your parents' privilege. this is called growing up. it is good and it is normal.

Well, anyways, I know I don't deserve pity

I don't like to give out pity anway, as I find it condescending, but you do have my sympathy. you should feel guilt for any people you have actually hurt, yourself, through bad behaviour in the past. but you have my sympathy for the way that you've been made to believe that these mistakes, which you regret and wish to change and never repeat, should doom you to a life of misery, that you do not particularly want, and that apparently mean you're not "allowed" to follow your passions. that is desperately sad. I am sorry this has happened to you. you deserve a chance to prove yourself a better, wiser person, and you deserve the rewards that should come from changing. forgive yourself.

But it feels like I will never be able to erase my parents fingerprints of my life

not quite the same situation as you, but I once thought this exactly. my parents fucked me up big time, and I thought that I would never escape them. now nothing I have has anything to do with them. it's possible and you will get to this point too. think about the life that you want -- that is not theirs. but living miserably in penance for your parents' sins? that will ensure that you will never, ever escape them. the choice is yours.

Inescapable hell, I tell you. Deserved, I know.

never deserved. if you want to do better you deserve the chance. it is never too late to start doing better, it's never too late to change yourself, and if you're sincere and you succeed, you deserve to be happy.

finally, to reiterate something I said earlier: spend less time online. this kind of thought process is only found in people who spend excruciating amounts of time online. people do not think like this in the real world. grown adults with critical thinking skills and basic empathy do not think you should suffer forever because your parents were assholes and you made some stupid choices in your teens and early twenties. being exposed to the kinds of "politics" you get online -- which is less about politics and more about power and self-righteousness and putting others down in order to disguise one's own flaws -- is quite literally making you insane. sign off and work on yourself. the average human life span is around 80 years. don't live in misery because some people online think the first 25 of those years define you.

#anon #asks

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palialaina · 1 year

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I wonder if there's a way to make a sleeping draught, and if there is, can I bribe someone to teach me, because there are just.. so many people in the valley that need to actually go the fuck to sleep.

Reth.

I mean, he's not alone, there's also my Jel, and Jina, and Kenyatta...

Heh.

My Jel.

He finally figured out what to do about his sister, but turns out one of his other sisters didn't want to do the job for the party she was suited for, and he was once again having an existential crisis.

Well, wait, that's a bit too far into the sory, innit? So.

Jel sent me a letter saying he'd figured out how to handle his sister deliberately causing trouble. He then told me that he was going to blackmail her. Very very mildly, and I swear. For someone who couldn't stand up to Eshe about Kenyatta's dress, he sure does find it easier to push back on his sisters...

But he needed better chairs first, and asked if I'd talk to Tish so he could focus on other things, so I went and searched Tish out, and I really wish there was like... an actual primer on Palian Romance things. Not just the etiquette book Caleri shoved at me a few weeks ago, but actual information on how they do things like...

Anyways, the pin. So, Tish told me that Jel had told her that he liked me a lot. Which... well, I wear his pin, so that's patently obvious, even if he did trick me into getting it made. The butt. And she asked me if I was going to give him one in return and like...

No one told me I'd need to do that!

Thankfully, Tish explained how the whole pin thing works. You need something that represents your partner, something that represents you, and some silver. Why silver? Maybe because it's rare and hard to find... Honestly, silver suits him though. I prefer gold, but that's even harder to find...

I went and talked to Sifuu on Tish's advice, and she helped me figure out what worked. I'm glad I kept those heartdrop lilies I found in Bahari, though I admit, I was hoping I could maybe put them in a vase... Still, I used a heartdrop for me, and then...

Well, Jel considers himself a green pearl, but I was thinking something more... dramatic and harder to find. I rather regret it, but being fair I needed to go mining anyways, and hunting a scintillating centipede along the way wasn't too much of a hassle.

Sifuu made a really nice pin out of it, I admit, so naturally, I had to put off talking to Jel so I could look... well. Not like a disaster. I admit, it seemed kind of rude to give him a pin in the middle of the family drama (see one of his other sisters not wanting to do anything at all, and then deliberately being a brat about it, and his existential crisis about being a bad member of the Omiata), but when he said he was certain they wouldn't want him to be part of their family any more...

Well, it was an opportunity. I don't really know how I managed to spit it out without turning as red as a tomato, but I told him that if the Omiata didn't want him as part of their family, he could become part of mine, and gave him the pin, and...

And the look of wonder on his face. Like he couldn't believe that I could love someone like him. I guess in some respects we're so much alike that we miss the little things like that... I was worried about not being... fancy enough for him, he was worried about not being the right person for me...

From what I've gleaned, this does cement us as a couple in truth. And... well. He did call me his love. I was not expecting it. To say it floored me is an understatement.

So.

I... I'm not sure what's next for us, but I am... I am very happy.

Also, Tish sent me a nicely framed portrait of him. Yes I did have to put it right there.

Naturally, other people had to have Issues. Jina needed some... direction on where she was going with her studies, and there's so many ruins in Bahari for her to study and make a thesis on (even though I agree, that library should have been perfect, and her academic people are jerks and assholes. I think Academia is just Like That though. That's what I feel, anyways.). I also got a new recipe for soup out of it, so I might be able to out-soup Reth now.

And then Sifuu asked me to stop by the tavern so she could have soemone to talk to while she drank, and oof. Uncomfortable feelings for sure. I dunno, alcohol... I just don't like it. And I don't really like being around drunk people either.

But I went because I thought she just needed someone to encourage her about her book again (I draw the line at being a reader, but I can offer encouragement...), and I was.. kind of right. But now she wants me to go hunt a Proudhorn.

A proudhorn.

Those things are the sernuk that teleport away, and the are so hard to catch.

I'm going to see if Hassian has anything to help me. He challenged me at cards earlier, and kicked my butt too. Strategy games are definitely not one of my skills.

Oddly, he said he'd like to help me learn. So I guess being officially part of the village has helped him ease up a little bit. I hope he can give me good tips on how to track a proudhorn. I don't want to waste too much time doing this.

Honestly, it's kind of scary. I've done it before on my own, but it was by accident, and before I was so... wary. Of the dark. Ever since the library though, and the mentions of shadow things around, I've been feeling more uncomfortable being alone at night.

It's not so bad in my house, because I've kind of curated the trees, there's no.. chappa or sernuk running around to spook me, and I know where everything is that I need to know about. But... Well, Kilima and Bahari at night are spooky. I like the night, but I like it best from inside, I suppose.

It's probably going to be a long few days of hunting in Bahari, and pestering Hassian to help me. Who knows, maybe he'll actually start being genuinely nicer if I manage this.

Then again, it is Hassian.

#palia #palia online #singularity 6 #berry plays palia #palia game #palia journaling #palia journey #palia mmo #palia roleplaying #I hope that more romance events are on the horizon because while that was cute it was also a bit of a let down #At least a cutscene of an affectionate touch? A hug?#Something more than just staring at boxes of text as your LI emotes at you #Heck a small voiced scene would've been EPIC #It is interesting that we can date more than one person though #I still want alts #I have Pairing Ideas

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we-pay-for-everything · 2 years

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re the last line of that meta: You ARE extremely smart, and your opinion does matter! We don't even follow each other because you'd hate my blog (we have different OTPs, though we do agree on delena and a few others and we both love AtS!), but I adore and respect you so much. You make a difference even to those of us who aren't your mutuals! Anyway, I'd love to hear your analysis on the differences and similarities between Buffy Summers and Cordelia Chase. I love both and know that Cordy is more seriously flawed, but while I'm very different from Cordy, I actually love her even more than I love Buffy, especially given how joyless Buffy was - understandably, but still - throughout the last few seasons of BtVS. Cordleia is just such a unique, distinctive character and so spirited. Can't wait to hear your thoughts!

Thank you!!! I'm guessing you're maybe a Cangel and/or Spuffy shipper? Thank you so much for saying I'm smart and that you adore and respect me, especially if we have different OTPs <3! Your kind words put a smile on my face every time I read them so you've made a difference too! I wish I could express my sincere gratitude better...

If you know my blog, you might know I'm neither the biggest Cordelia nor the biggest Buffy fan. Also, I get that Cordelia was supposed to be Buffy's shadow self, but I know nothing about shadow selves - from Cordelia to Drusilla, Kendra, Faith, and Spike, I seriously don't notice stuff like that. I guess I'm more of a science than an art person so I always miss foreshadowing and metaphors and stuff like that.

I'm not the best person to ask this. I'm probably fonder of Buffy, but there are many times I don't like Buffy and I relate to her just about as well as I relate to Cordelia. Buffy's probably more relatable in season 6, but the execution is so bad that even then it's difficult.

Something I never liked about Buffy was her fixation with dating and observing all the girly clichés, like going to prom and doing her nails. Many girls care about that - and there's nothing wrong with it!, I know it's something normal Buffy was deprived of - but the writers tried too hard to show Buffy was "just a girl" - young, cute, hot and liked boys! I always wanted to be different from "all the girls" even though I'm like them, and she was the opposite lmao (but you could tell she was written by a bunch of adult men who knew shit about teenage girls). Cordelia, as obsessed with popularity as she initially was, was pretty different from Buffy because she didn't really care about being "normal" on AtS. She made a few efforts to date and marry rich, but, in the end, she liked not being "normal" because she finally had real friends and something she could do that no one else could (there was no one to compete with either...). That's something admirable about Cordelia, but, tbh, AtS was never about being a normal person in your 20s, like people say - the show skipped almost every common experience or issue a 20 year old would have and went straight to the depression and existential crisis part of it lmao.

Buffy and Cordy are both stubborn, witty, brave, smart, fashionable, have bright personalities and smiles, can be really competitive. Buffy has less of an ego, is more sensitive and selfless, and lot kinder and gentler than Cordelia; at the same time less, she was less involved in her friends' lives because of her slaying gig. I think Cordelia noticed her friends more and gave more advice and support in her own way. A notable difference between them is that becoming a slayer was the worst thing that could've happened to Buffy in her opinion, yet Cordy liked having visions since she got to help people and they allowed her to become even more unique and badass. Buffy obviously enjoyed some aspects of being a slayer, and getting visions was no walk in the park, but I think Cordelia and Buffy had contrasting responses to their "gifts". Cordelia had a more positive arc overall. Even though she died (fuck you, Joss), her final episode was beautiful and implied that she found peace and truly became a higher being. Cordelia wasn't herself in season 4, so her last real arc was in season 3, a season in which she was OOC (imo) yet happy. Cordelia also, ironically, got to have a lot more normal human experiences than Buffy (casual dating, being a "secretary", being a "parent", going out for drinks and karaoke with her friends, going out for dinner or to the opera, etc.). Being a slayer was harder than seeing the future. Actually, saving the world was a positive in AtS because the characters were after redemption and/or were outcasts with nothing better to do and who wanted to feel needed and have a place where they belonged. In BtVS though, saving the world just kept the characters from being happy and normal and being a superhero was generally a burden.

Buffy was more pessimistic than Cordelia. They evolved in opposite directions when it came to their outlook on life. Like I said, Cordelia had a more positive arc than Buffy; over time, she became happier, less jaded, more in touch with her emotions and satisfied with her life (if we think of Cordelia as Charisma, then Cordelia had a rough arc, though...) Are there more differences and similarities? Definitely, but I'm running out of things to say! I think I focused more on Cordy than Buffy, but I know AtS a lot better than BtVS... More (outdated, don't know if it reflects my current thoughts) stuff I wrote about them: x x.

Anyway, thanks for the ask and for being so lovely to me!!! <3<<3<3

#ask #btvs #ats #buffy summers #cordelia chase #thanks for the ask!

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bilbobagginshome · 2 years

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A Deadbeat’s Journal 15

A Jotaro Kujo x blackfemreader fic

March 15 20XX,

Despite doing absolutely nothing for the past three months, the day at the hotel felt well deserved, especially since I don’t remember the last time I had my back properly massaged . I could feel the literal stress in my body evaporate as the masseuse kneaded and pressed me like chapati dough. By the time I was done, even Grandpa Joseph, who had his own massage , noticed that I had become less rigid. So I spent the entire day sipping mocktails , enjoying the large sized pool and eating an abundance of culinary delights. Maybe I’ll enjoy working at a hotel, after all I’m a big advocate of soft life.

By dinnertime, I had to borrow one of mama Holly’s light green,satin strap dresses because the pretentiousness of the evening banquet did not allow my cotton vest and thrifted jean shorts to make an appearance. Though I did look good and Jotaro’s sidelong glance confirmed it . I did feel bad for Samosa so before we headed home, I bought her some prawns to snack on before sleeping . Jotaro insists that she is not that affected by me not being at home as much but he doesn’t know how much we spend time together .I literally get separation anxiety when I’m away from her for more than 6 hours.

Jotaro seemed exhausted . I asked him about it and he didn’t want to talk about it . I mean I care for him but he almost skipped his prescription drugs, his eye bags are becoming more prominent and there isn't enough eye size to carry those bags . His complexion , despite being a bit tanned, seems greyer too. I don’t want to push him but I feel like he’s trying to quickly get over the workload. Like no offence but I thought marine biologists just looked at dolphins and went , “Yes that is indeed a dolphin.” He has hefty encyclopaedias , some could even be half my weight considering how gigantic they are and is consistently hunching over them when writing his paper. He once mentioned that because of how unresearched the Indian coast is from the turn of the century , he has to update said encyclopaedias .Some of the books become entirely useless because of the alarming climatic conditions that are affecting the global south. He almost gave me an existential crisis by informing me that by 200 years due to the dramatically rising sea levels, Mombasa may not even exist. I may be cremated thanks to this timely information.

An overworked and undervalued job that is Jotaro Kujo’s profession .He practically dragged his body to bed . He should have lived a trust fund baby lifestyle but the workaholic eats and breathes his job so that is out of the question.

In other related news, my feline firstborn was entirely happy to see us , she ignored Jotaro (a first for both of us) and went straight to lapping at my legs in an attempt for me to hoist her up. She’s gotten bigger , almost too big considering she’s only 8 weeks old and has quite a tummy despite her stubby legs. She graciously feasts on the prawns and heads to my room for our skin care routine which consists of me actually doing my skin care and brushing out her fur when I’m done . Her kittish nature is very much alive , playing with my braid stands whenever they aren’t in a bonnet and encouraging me to jump whenever she pounces at me . What a cutie!

I plan to take mom Holly and gramps to boat rides in the South Coast, partly because I want to jet ski but also they mentioned wanting to do paragliding and swimming with dolphins.

March 16 20XX,

I’m shaking as I write this? Considering how great of a day I had, I should not have come home to this . First of all, I’ll focus on the positives .The day was splendid, we didn’t spend a lengthy amount of time trying to take the ferry. It was actually surprisingly enjoyable swimming with the despicable dolphins who’s pretty privilege won me over . We also jet skied, mom Holly loved it , even taking over from the instructor and rode it herself. The day turned for the worst from the moment I arrived home.

To give you some context, I was rushing out and I mistakenly forgot to switch off the stove . Luckily the gas was already out so nothing bad happened but I got home and found an infuriated Jotaro. I can even vividly remember the conversation ;

“Hi jojo.”

No answer, I walked in and saw him glaring at me as he sat on the kitchen counter . Samosa must have sensed something was about to go down as she leisurely walked to my room.Look I wasn’t even mad, he had a tough day and the dopamine from riding a jet ski for the first time was still giving me a euphoric rush . I drank the water from the dispenser and told him good night .He however demanded for me to sit down . I blankly stared and sat across from him.

“Why did you leave the stove open?”he questions with a very unamused tone. I look onto the stove and realise I must have left it on after making Pilau for his dinner. I shrugged and said

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise . I’ll be careful next time.”Which I may add , was a proper response . I didn't justify my recklessness and assured him in a simple sentence that I wouldn’t repeat the mistake . Thinking he had acknowledged my mistake , I stood up .

“We aren’t done here.” He harshly responded . I haven’t heard him raise his voice at anyone since his teen days and he decides to shout at me. I’m now fuming.

“What could have happened to Samosa had the stove still been lit ? Aren’t you too loose with your mistakes?” My mind just went ‘Be for real’.

“I recognise my mistake Jotaro and I thank God nothing serious happened as a consequence. “

“Maybe it's because you can’t think of anyone but yourself but I had months of research papers here and had yet to have them in digital format . They could have been gone!” He boomed. I flinched . He noticed and moved closer . What could I have done?

“I said I’m sorry! What do you want me to do ? Reverse time ? I can’t do that .You’re scaring me and I feel uncomfortable around you .” I say and run to my room.

I’ve always been scared of people shouting . Less because of the act itself and more because of what it may lead to . I vividly remember the post election violence. I was in a secure estate so I didn’t face the brunt of the impact . But at seven I remember the shouting , the screaming that filled the streets. My mom barricading the gates to ensure the rioting masses didn’t attempt to kill us based on our tribal ties. At seven I contemplated whether it was better to burn within your home or be displaced and become a domestic refugee. Both options carried a low survival rate. The ending to that tragic event was grim . The politicians , unaffected , decided on a compromise alongside a new constitution . 600,000 people were displaced,3,000 injured and killed. It was a far hopeful outcome than the Rwandan Genocide , but like a small scar, forever left its mark .

Jotaro doesn’t know the trauma that time had on me. But God don’t I hate how intimidating he looked . What the momentary flashes of the past panged me with . He hasn’t tried to talk to me , nor did he follow me . I’ll sleep it off . Maybe I’ll talk about it with Ms Khadija.

Third Person Narration.

Jotaro didn’t understand why y/n spooked out when he shouted. Granted he assumed he wasn’t as loud but he didn’t know the impact it had on her . He thought he’d wake up and apologise . The previous day had been rough on him.He had messed up on writing one of the records and this messed up the entire file so he was stuck fixing the mistakes of a past sleepy Jotaro. When he comes home, he finds the stove left on and his seemingly short fuse bursts. He wanted a shouting match and y/n was the perfect person he could shout at especially since she wouldn’t take that sitting down . He didn’t expect wide glassy eyes and an ever shrinking figure . He only wanted to check on why she reacted like that , but she skirted away, dashed to her room and locked the door.

He came back from the gym , guilt in full motion. He shouldn’t have tried to instigate a fight . She wasn’t home, must have left when she noticed he left . She didn’t even make him oatmeal and eggs (which she always kindly did despite his adamant refusal). Yep she’s scared of him and he’s realising the consequences of lashing out full force without thinking through. She had apologised, willingly as a matter of fact, and he didn’t take the cue that she was uninterested in arguing with him . It was his fault.

He is lost throughout the entire workday, his colleagues snapping him back.He reasons that his mom and gramps are unaware and are off dragging y/n to show them around. He decides after work he’ll apologise . He’ll willingly grovel at her feet.One day passes , he attempts to stay up but the exhaustion kills him and he sleeps, She smartly avoids him . Coming home at times she knows he’ll be asleep and waking up bright and early before he wakes up.

By the third day he decides to go to the hotel , believing that she stays there for a longer duration to avoid him .He finds her beside the pool, smiling widely at whatever anecdote Gramps is dramatically exaggerating about and he’s envious. The pool lights illuminate her wide smile and the one who gets to see this carefree view swinging on the hammock is a blubbering old man.She looks up and a frown hardens her features.He’s ready to bow down, profusely apologising for his sins .Joseph looks back and notices Jotaro’s approaching figure . If he knows anything about their argument , his expression reflects nothing of acknowledgement. He sadly says;

“Picking her up today? It's sad , I was about to get to the good part.”

“Talking about your plane crashes is not a casual post dinner conversation . “ Jotaro admonishes.

“Sheesh , well I’m heading to bed . You better be free tomorrow, we are going golfing and I want some of my associates to meet the family.” He says and winks at y/n who nods in affirmation .

“I’ll be there ,” And with that Joseph abruptly leaves.

They sit in silence.The sound of the fanned leaves cover up the excruciatingly awkward prolonging quietness. Y/n makes no move to talk and Jotaro is unnoticeably jittery.He finally says;

“I’m sorry.”

“It's fine.”

“Please , forgive me. I don’t know why you were afraid , but I didn’t mean to scare you at the moment.”

“Jotaro, It's late, let’s go home okay ? I’m tired and you must be too.”She rises up and walks to the reception area , Jotaro, after a long glance, follows her.

Her icy demeanour retains its rigidness even when they go over to take Joseph and Holly during the next day. She encourages Joseph to take the front seat and talks largely to Holly throughout the ride , She looks angelic in her blue sweater vest and tennis skirt but Jotaro refutes on complimenting cause , that wasn’t the time.

Once the arrive , one of the associates , a bald headed man with a pot belly underneath an all white outfit welcomes them, gesturing them to the court .He drags a glance at y/n and when she mentions her name replies;

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl! My son , the useless bastard, is having problems getting a wife, maybe I should pair him up with you.”

She refutes and Jotaro adds;

“Actually we are in a serious relationship .It would be disastrous if they met right?” He warningly smiles and the man drops the conversation immediately .Holly and Joseph however , smile knowingly at Jotaro who ignores their telepathic teasing.Noticing the stares y/n gets as they walk to the field, he places his arm on her lower back which she begrudgingly allows.

Y/n is contemplating . Her usual course of action is to force Jotaro to grovel in forgiveness but her conscience is now against that . Ignoring him is difficult, considering their living arrangements but she doesn’t want to forgive him yet.She decides on guilting him a bit, perhaps talking about her trauma will put him in place .They trail behind Joseph’s and Holly’s golf cart in silence and quickly get out once they reach the first field. She is average at playing , which is good considering she’s a beginner, Jotaro however is struggling throughout the holes, needing adjustment from Holly who seems to be a professional in the sport , easily beating everyone else playing .

“How are you so good mom?”

“I’ve been playing since I was accompanying papa to his meetings.”She gleefully responds. Y/n is in awe .

“Then why didn’t you go pro.”

“I did . I quit after a year. The sport isn't fun when it's your job.”

“Why does it always seem like you’ve lived a thousand lives?” Y/n rhetorically remarks which earns a laugh from Holly.

By the eighteenth hole the results confirm that Jotaro is dead last alongside Joseph. Holly is at top and Mutua(Jotaro’s associate) is the runner up followed by y/n.

“It seems the women in your family are very capable in comparison to the men.”Mutua Jokes.

“I can't refuse that, Y/n here can probably run a country with ease.” Jotaro chuckles in agreement while slowly shaking the shoulder of a timid y/n.

“Anyway let’s have lunch then we can discuss business.” Mutua instructs.As they head to the carts, Y/n slowly says to Jotaro with a small chuckle

“If you weren’t so impactful with your hits, you would have landed some hits rather than consistently scraping the ground.” .Jotaro loudly laughs at this much to the shock of everyone

“I hope you can teach me someday.” He responds while revving the engine.

They spend the afternoon casually eating lunch and much to Joseph’s annoyance , Jotaro excuses both him and y/n out the country club early.

“Why are we leaving early? and who’s going to take mom and gramps home?” Y/n questions. Jotaro offers a small assurance that he ordered an uber and drives off to ..

“Tudor! Are we having mishkakis for dinner?” She excitedly questions as she hopes off the car.

“Yep,” Jotaro says. She isn't usually in this area of Mombasa so she rarely gets to enjoy the savoury food as often . Y/n took it as takeaway largely because it's much easier than stuffing herself with foodstuffs .

They walked around the area in silence, despite the cars the streets were not as packed as it was approaching seven. Jotaro suddenly breaks the silence by saying;

“The day we argued , I was stressed and when I saw the stove top on and went berserk. I apologise for scaring you and for putting you in such a position.”He looks down in shame.

“You remember when we came to Japan during April? And we weren't able to come during the usual Christmas time?”Y/n askes and Jotaro nods in confusion.

“We didn’t come because Kenya was at the brink of civil war and everyone was barricading themselves at home, fearing the worst.”She adds and Jotaro shoots up in utter bewilderment .

“I wasn’t exactly harmed but the screams and shouting I heard on the streets were practically nightmare fuel for weeks. That’s why I reacted that way. Thank you for apologising but the next time we argue , please try to lower your tone.”She finishes with a slight smile gracing her lips.

Jotaro’s heart is heavy. After composing himself, he bows down much to the surprise of y/n and the people surrounding them . He then solemnly says;

“I’m so sorry . I’ll do everything I can to repent.”

Y/n forces him to get up , largely because she’s embarrassed but also because she had planned on forgiving him anyway. They walk back to the car and Jotaro remains silent for the rest of the ride back.

“You know you can speak to me right?I’m not going to start quivering whenever you speak.”Y/n says once they alight from the car.

“I was thinking, maybe we should go out, at the mall. We can even check out Miniso's”Jotaro says whilst needlessly stratching the back of his neck

“We should. Not for me though, you need a lot more clothes that are fashionable, I’ll just buy stationery.” She excitedly responds , not without casting a withering glance at Jotaro’s outfit.

He smiles in response.

prev masterlist next

It seems my poorly written fanfic has earned some views ,Thank you so much for the support.

But seeing as my first uni semester is ending I need to pay more attention to the books. Updates will be on Tuesdays and Thursdays (Cross your fingers for Saturdays) . I apologise and now understand authors who don't post as regularly.

#Jotaro kujo Jotaro x reader jotaro x reader Jotaro x black reader jotaro x yn jotaro x black yn jotaro imagines jotaro scenarios jjba jojo

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atinygoblin · 1 year

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My annual leave ends this Saturday. I’ve had a good 17 days off. I managed to scam a couple of extra days, with simply how my shifts fell. I booked annual leave for my boyfriends birthday, to make sure I was there for it.

Basically, I gave him his first ever experience of a birth-week, just wanted to make sure it was all about him for a week. On his actual birthday, we spent it with his parents and brother just having a few drinks.

2nd day, Me, him and his brother went to see barbie. I’ve already watched it (ofc) and they loved it (ofc!)

I cried again. Barbie is going to become a comfort movie for me. Feeling really grown lately. Just really telling my age. I’m 22 but I feel like I’m not as young as I was when I was 19. Like I feel fully formed but now I have no idea what I’m meant to do with the rest of my life.

I did cry in the car. Started to have an existential crisis on the way home. I feel so far behind everyone, but like I feel like I’ve only just grew up. How do people even know how they like something? Everything changes. Nothing stays the same? Why plan your whole life out, when things will change?? You will change? Everything you’ve prepared for will inevitably change at some point and you start off at square 1. Do you do it all over again?

Sorry barbie makes me think.

Thinking that has completely overwhelmed me.

Saturday, he went to work and a had a day too myself. Thank god, because that Saturday was a trauma anniversary, so I was miserable. I did take a walk to the shops which helped me clear my head, did also cry on the walk to the shops too.

Sunday, he played at a punk festival with the band that his in ( they all slayyed ) but the headliners were buzzcocks. They were amazing, even if it is a glorified tribute band, I really enjoyed seeing them.

Monday, we took a walk round Bradgate park, which lady Jane grey lived. I really enjoyed the fact that it was me and stinky, just chatting shit and enjoying the sun. I love him so much. I did have to go home though on Monday.

I hate going home. Ofc because of my mum and dad. But it’s so boring here, the only good thing is that I get to see my sisters and pets.

I feel like I’ve just developed over a few months and I’ve just became super independent. When I’m home, that gets stripped away from be, but somehow expected not need anything.

One thing I’ve always struggled with, is restlessness. I’m a restless person, if I’m stuck in the same place for a little too long, I go feral. For example, on a bad day and hit myself and others around me. (I think this is me needing physical stimulation) I’m not always violent when restless, but I get agitated. You know that feeling when you’re that angry, and you get the urge to bite. Like that ache in your jaw that you get when you’re angry. I feel that when I’m restless. It’s just best for me to take a walk instead of biting everyone.

Being at home makes me constantly want to bite, hit and scream all the time. But I can’t, that’s what mentally unstable people do. Me, I’m a good girl, I go on a walk. It comes to my first day back at home and I’m restless. It’s time for a walk.

I go on my walk, and just burning that energy is making me feel so much more better. BUT NO. IM NEVER ALLOWED ANY PEACE EVER.

My mum calls me…moaning

Because I left the house for a few minutes. I was so angry. I literally can’t do anything. Whatever I do is wrong. Always the wrong choice.

Exhausted of trying to better myself when I’m at home. I’m starting to believe that my mum wants me struggle. She’s just coming in between me and myself. Only solution is to live a 2nd life

It’s been like that all week so far, anything I do is some how an inconvenience to my mum and dad. I would say it’s starting to annoy me but it started as soon as a came home. It’s been jarring since I came home.

#blogstory #diary entry #diaryposting #blogs to follow #dear diary #daily diary #diary #family #tw depressing stuff #punk music #festival #barbie #sad thoughts #family problems

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starlightxsvt · 3 years

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3 dates | c.sc

pairing ➳ badboy!Seungcheol x female!reader

genre ➳ badboy au, romance, some fluff, angst, bad attempt at humour, gets spicy at the end.

word count ➳ 12.4k+ (i have NO idea how this became so long so strap in for a ride)

warnings ➳ cursing, mentions of killing, mentions criminal activities, slight violence(non explicit), smoking, ma man Seungcheol ain't your typical badboy, self doubt, blackmailing, reader does all sorts of risky things cuz she's a SIMP, blood(nothing explicit), kissing, marking, some breast worshipping, grinding, reader is horny lol. (Please lemme know if I forgot anything.)

synopsis ➳ after one fateful encounter with him you cannot get him out of your head. so you opt to do some crazy things to catch his attention and even snag a few dates with him. only trouble is he isn't the type to stay after the whole disposition is over.

Swirling the third drink in your hand you heave yet another depressed sigh. You are so tired that you feel like you can just slump on the counter and pass out. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stop for a drink, you alcohol riddled brain thinks.

The plans you had with Katelyn was cancelled last moment; she called to tell you that her thesis submission date was moved forward and so she couldn't hang out with you tonight. You're in the middle of an existential crisis quite literally, the too many part time jobs yet still lack of money and copious amounts of study getting to you. Staring hard at your drink you contemplate if it is worth giving up on college and your dream of becoming an arts major. It sure feels tempting right now, the long hours at the diner and not enough sleep at night proving to be the worst nuisance.

Sighing you put down your drink. It's still early, you should go home and try to catch up on the much needed sleep. You really had no intention of grabbing a drink tonight; you have morning classes tomorrow but you made a last moment decision to stop for a drink on your way back home. You didn't take your usual route to home today, and while trudging through the streets tiredly you came across this bar called Seventeen's. You've heard stories about this place, how it is the home to local gangs and how it's bad people's turf and what not. Your curiosity, probably too much of that made you get inside for a drink even though all the bones in your body ached. The inside is what you expected, nowhere near fancy but dingy, just decent enough. The people inside didn't look friendly and if the chains and tattoos on them gave any indication you'd say the rumours are true; this is the turf of gangs. The drinks taste decent, not the best but not the worst and from the overall look of this place you don't really have a reason to come back.

You're about to stand up from your stool when a large, clammy hand grabs your wrist out of nowhere, making you jump. "Hey sexy, sit down. Let me buy you a drink," the owner of the hand, a large, tattooed middle aged man slurs making your nose scrunch out of disgust. You're wearing nothing that can be called sexy; a plain cardigan and jeans and the way he looks you up and down makes you want to poke his eyes out.

You really shouldn't have come here. Clenching your jaw, you meet his eyes, "What makes you think I'm interested to have a drink with you?"

"Oh come on, why would you be here then, lookin' all nice? Just sit down," the man drawls, an ugly smile on his face. He still hasn't let go of your wrist and it's making you impatient. Looks like you're gonna have to kick his balls tonight. Maybe the self defense classes didn't completely go to waste.

"Get your disgusting hands off me while I'm being nice, sleazeball," you hiss at him, trying to get his hand off. The man stands up growling, "What did you say you bitch?" You're preparing to break his nose when out of nowhere a punch lands on his face that sends him tumbling to the ground. The attacker gets on top of him and twists his arm and you can literally hear a bone snap.

Shit.

"I think she said she is not interested," the man hisses, landing yet another another hit on his face before kicking his groin and getting up. When he turns around and his eyes meet yours, your heart skips a few beats and you almost The man is drop dead gorgeous, someone you would not expect to see here but probably on the cover of a high end magazine. His blond hair is long, crossing the nape of his neck as well as some covering his forehead. What takes your breath away the most is his eyes, the most beautiful pair you've ever seen. They seem to have their own galaxies in them, so deep and mesmerising and decorated with lashes long enough to make you jealous. His dress up, black jacket and jeans, immediately tells you what he is; a gang member.

"You should get home, lady," He speaks in a no nonsense tone, his face cold as ice. But you're offended. "Excuse me? Who are you calling lady? You make it sound like I'm old." You puff your cheeks and cross your arms, trying to appear intimidating. "Besides I had the situation under control, you didn't need to butt in." The man keeps looking at you with that no nonsense look, his features displaying annoyance if you are right and he's clearly not intimidated. The dude on the floor grunts and makes an effort to get up, only to be kicked by your saviour once more. "Hey Mingyu, get him out of here. What was this piece of trash doing here anyway?" The man orders to someone before turning to look at you, "Do you live far?"

"Uh- no, a ten minutes walk from here maybe," you reply unsurely, surprised at his question. The blond haired man nods before grabbing your wrist, "I'll walk you home. Hurry up, lady." You have a feeling he's purposely calling you that and though you start following him out of the bar, you make grunts of protest.

"Oh yeah, why? Trying to find out my address? So you can come later and hurt me like that guy?" You would not be this brazen if it wasn't for the alcohol in your system, after all the man next you isn't a friendly one if the rumours are true. The man raises a brow at you, "Did you do something that requires me to beat you up?" You hiccup at his serious tone. Does he not get a joke? He lets go of your hand now that you're at a safe distance from the bar but still stays close enough to you as your steps are rather stumbling and messy. You aren't fully drunk but your body is tired and feels like will shut down any second.

You really need some sleep.

"You know I'm not that drunk. You don't have to walk me home." You complain. "I'm walking you home because this isn't a nice place you should be alone at night. What happened earlier could happen again." He says not looking at you. "Mhmm," you keep on trudging behind him, "Thank you so much for your kind gesture, sir." You mock him but he doesn't reply, staring straight ahead, completely ignoring you as he walks quietly. In silence you two walk the rest of the path, before finally stopping as your apartment comes into view. At this point it feels like your bones will break and you will plop down on the concrete any second, but you manage to keep standing. "Well, thanks for walking me home." You shift your weight from one foot to another. "And for helping me back there." He shrugs coolly, a bored expression on his face. He's turning to walk away when you call, "Hey- I didn't get your name."

"What do you need it for?" He side glances at you. You shrug, "I don't know. You helped me so I thought it'd be nice to know your name." "You don't need to. Go inside, lady." He says, his tone final and starts marching away. You wait a couple moments before yelling, "Asshole!" and quickly rushing inside your building, partly afraid he's gonna come back.

You won't be surprised if you get killed tonight.

"So you are telling me Choi Seungcheol walked you home?" Katelyn screams in your ear, jolting up from her seat, earning glares from other people at the library in the process. "That's his name?" You whisper-yell, grabbing her hand to pull her back down. "I'm guessing from the blond hair you said," Katelyn shrugs. "Uh huh." You mean back in your chair, "He was hot though."

"Is that seriously all you have to say?" Katelyn whines exasperatedly. "No, I mean, if it wasn't for the way he dresses or talks I would have thought he's a model or something." You murmur.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Katelyn questions. "Hell no!" You frown. "He saved me from that creepy old dude. I was surprised too. I wish I didn't drink so much, I could have gotten a better look at his face," you sigh. "Seriously?" Katelyn raises a brow at you.

"Girl, you should have seen him. His aura and the way he carried himself was...so hot." You grin to yourself. Katelyn watches you like you've grown two heads. "Are you trying to tell me you have a crush on that gangster?" You smile sheepishly, "Maybe, I mean it's harmless. He was broody yet charming and I'm a girl so.... Also, it's not like he likes me too and is gonna come running whenever I ask him to bang me." You mutter.

"Oh he's gonna break your bones and bang your skull against a wall. That's what he's gonna do."

"Come on! Maybe he isn't so bad. Maybe the rumours are just rumours. Maybe he just looks intimidating and dresses up like that and people thinks he's a gangster." "Really? His name is on every bad thing that happens around here. From illegal racing to murders. Do you know that people say he has killed too?" "Like I said, rumours," you shrug being your stubborn self. Katelyn holds her hands up in surrender, "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're alive so let's just put this behind us, shall we?" You don't reply but wiggle your brows at her, a conspirational look on your face. "Oh no, don't look at me like that," Katelyn warns. "Let's go to that bar tonight. Please?" You give her your best puppy eyes. "What are you? Fucking crazy? You wanna get killed?" She whisper-yells, scowling at you. "No. I just wanna take another look at him. Without the alcohol in my system you know. Besides, the place isn't that bad." You reply.

"Well then get killed by yourself. I'm not coming with you."

"I'll help you with your papers for the rest of the semester."

"Shit."

"Well, looks like your wish won't be coming true," Katelyn muses chugging down her fourth glass as you keep playing with your first one. It's nearing an hour since you've come to the bar and there has been no sign of the man you desperately seek. The place is exactly like it was the other day, filled with people who you wouldn't want to mess with.

Yet here you are.

"Let's call it a night," Katelyn sighs. "We're just wasting our time." You know that too but you don't want to leave; not just yet. You are well aware that this is just pathetic but you've this crazy urge to see that man once again. You don't know why you feel this way; you never felt like this before. Why are thinking yourself to death about a complete stranger? Has some kind of spell been casted on you?

"Yeah, let's get going," you murmur half heartedly. You help your friend stand up as she's a little wobbly on her feet and together you make your way through the door. "Should we call a cab?" You ask Katelyn. She shakes her head no and you nod, you arms wrapped around hers to support her in case she looses her balance. You start stepping away from the bar and towards the road to her place until a noise from behind makes you stop in your tracks.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, whipping your head behind. There's no one around and the street is mostly dark other than the light flashing from the name of the bar. You hear the sound once again and this time you can locate where it's coming from. There's an abandoned playground at the back of the bar and you've a feeling that's the source.

Katelyn hisses as she sees you step towards there. "What are you doing!"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Yes I did. That's why I say we leave!" You ignore her and cautiously keep on stepping forward, mentally cursing yourself for wearing heels. Katelyn follows behind you murmuring all kinds of warnings. "You know curiosity killed the cat, right?" She whispers.

You roll your eyes, "Well I'm not a cat. Just- be quiet. It can be nothing." You both move past the bar gingerly and towards the playground at the back. There are old gallons of oil and abandoned materials just around the corner and you two quickly hide among them. It takes you a while to get adjusted to the low light after you poke your head up from the hiding spot.

You're eyes fix on him immediately. His blond hair makes him easily recognisable amid the darkness. There is a few more people around him, all kicking something in the ground. Not something, but someone. The man lying on the ground groans in pain and you realize this is what you both heard. "Shit," You hear Katelyn curse from beside you. "We need to get going." Instead of replying, you keep your eyes trained on the scene unfolding, holding your breath. You're tranced. Seungcheol lands continuous punched on the guy laying below him and after a moment his writhing frame seems to stop moving as it falls limp.

Fuck.

"You know in movies this is the part where people get caught." Katelyn whispers, her voice hoarse and her hand clutching yours in a tugging motion. "Uh-huh. But I can't seem to move. I wonder if he's... really dead." You whisper back. "Are you fucking crazy!" She hisses. "You wanna witness murder?"

Before you can reply you hear a sound that echoes through the empty field and it takes a second for you two to realise that it came from any one of you two. You don't have the time to figure out who made it as you both are crawling away from the playground without looking back, head crouched low to avoid being seen. You don't know if they heard that or if they're coming behind you, you both just keep scrambling, moving until you're past the corner. As soon as possible you both get on your feet and run like the grim reaper is chasing you, stopping only when you are far enough from the bar.

"I am never listening to you again!" Katelyn yells.

It's been a good few days since your near death experience and you somehow find yourself in front of that bar once again. You and Katelyn have not brought up that incident after that night. You made yourself believe that it was over and came to a conclusion that it is better to forget that man and leave all of it behind, no matter how much your heart disagreed. But it's easier said than done; you may not mention him out loud but in the back of your mind you think of him. He's like a ghost, haunting you all the time, plagueing your thoughts when you go to bed at night. It felt like he was ever existent and there was an itch in your heart that drove you insane.

Maybe that's why your subconscious brought you here, in front of Seventeen's, once again. You were on your way back home from library and you thought you took your usual route, until you realized you were standing in front of that place. But what is even terrifying is that the man haunting your mind stands in front of the entrance of the bar and you blink a few times to make sure you are not hallucinating. He's leaned against the entrance door, cigarette between his lips and from his pocket he fetches a lighter to light the poison in his mouth.

Damn, lighting up a cigarette never looked this sexy.

He hasn't seen you yet and you contemplate running the other way. That's the sensible thing to do but you, not being a sensible person, start walking towards him. Your footsteps make him look up and notice you and like the last time, there is no expression on his face. It's the same bored yet handsome face except now in daylight you can take a better look at him and this time, you notice a little mole on the left of his face, by his nose. Realising he's gonna stay silent you decide to speak, "Hi... It's me... Do you remember me?" Wow. That's such an intelligent thing to ask.

With the monotoned yet serious expression on his face, he goes, "Why won't I? I don't have Alzheimer's."

So he can joke.

You laugh, an awkward, probably exaggerated laugh. "What are you doing here? Did you not learn your lesson last time?" He cuts to the chase, his voice brassy and deep, almost threatening. You want to roll your eyes. "Who are you to say? I can be wherever I want whenever I want, thank you very much." "Well then, have fun getting in trouble like last time." He's nonchalant as he blows a smoke right past you and stands up straight, turning away. "Wait!" You almost grab his hand, desperate to stop him.

What is wrong with you? Your subconscious slaps her forehead. What are you holding him back for? To say 'hello sir, I think you're hot, can you please put your dick inside me'? Seungcheol turns his head back, his eyebrow cocked up.

Why do you find everything about him so attractive?

"Um...I know your name, Seungcheol." You speak, trying to sound intimidating, like knowing his name gives you some power over him. There's something definitely wrong with you which is why you don't want him to leave just yet and which is why you're stalling time. But it seems to have done the job as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and turns towards you, an annoyed look on his face. "How do you know that?" The timbre of his tone is deep and it rakes shivers down your spine. "Well, you've built quite a reputation for yourself so it isn't hard to get your name." You shrug coolly. "Well, if you know so much about my reputation, you should know what I'm capable of." His lone is low, almost threating as he starts to take slow steps towards you making you step back out of reflex.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe you will also end up like the curious cat.

"Oh yes, I know. People have got a lot to say about you," you try to sound unfazed, not meeting his eyes that you feel are burning holes on your face. "What are you doing here, lady?" he asks slowly, pausing between each word and glaring at you as he continues to step forward. You can feel his patience thinning.

"I swear to God if you call me that-"

"What are you doing here?" This time his tone is scary, too scary. It makes you lose the ability to speak for a second as his dark gaze bores into you. He has backed you up against the wall behind you and you swallow. Right, what are you doing here? It probably has something to do with a very hot individual and his insanely attractive aura. Scratch that you are a hundred percent sure it has something to do with the blond haired, enticing man in front of you. He's driving you mad and you need to get your fill of him.

"Go out with me," you state and you are sure you've never spoken words more stupid than that. Internally, you cringe and pray that the ground below you would open and take you straight to the fiery pits.

This is the first time you see some sort of expression come across his face; surprise. He looks utterly shocked and somewhat confused. His mouth opens just a little and he squints at you, "What?"

There's no going back now.

"Go out with me. Let's go on three dates." you say once more, looking him in the eye. He seems to appear even more surprised, a dumbstruck look sitting on his face. He observes you quietly for a while and you can feel the gears in his head shifting. You wonder what he's gonna say next. Or maybe he won't say anything but bang your head on the wall and leave you to die alone. "I'm sorry I'm not following," he looks genuinely perplexed. "I want to go on three dates with you. They say after three dates you can figure out whether you like that person or not and I think I like you so..."

I think I like you.

The biggest understatement of the year.

Seungcheol tilts his head, an amused expression on his face as he studies you, those sharp eyes of his settling on yours, "What is your deal, sweetheart?" He crosses his arms, a brow raised. Sweetheart? That's new. And definitely better than lady. You can't deny how hearing him call you that makes your insides melt. "Nothing. I just want to date you," you shrug, trying to keep your wits together. His proximity is driving you wild; you can sniff a faint smell of cologne and cigarette, him being inches away from you. This time he laughs loudly, a mocking laugh you'd say. "Who sent you?"

Oh my god.

You roll your eyes. "Nobody sent me! Do I look like I'm a gang member or something?" "Then I don't see a reason why you'd want to date me," He states, throwing a challenging look at you.

"What if I said I have a thing for bad boys?"

He snorts. "You don't look the type to date bad boys," he mocks. "Who are you to say that?" You cross your arms. "I want to date you because I think you're hot, okay?" You can not believe you just said that. Looks like you don't have control over your mouth anymore. Warmth spreads throughout your face like a forest fire.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes on you, his tongue poking his cheek as he stands in front of you as if trying to read your mind. After a beat he sighs before looking at you, his eyes becoming darker than usual and his gaze unforgiving. "Hey. Does it look like I'm playing house here? Do you have any idea about the shit I do? The dirty work I do? I don't care if you have a fucking fetish or whatever but this is the last time I'm warning you. I don't want to see you around again. If I see you here once more, you're in fucking trouble," he spits and starts stomping away. His tone is serious and you know very well he is not joking, which is why you use your last resort. You're embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate but at the same time you feel shameless. It has almost turned into a game at this point, you want to make him surrender. That's right, you want him to give in. "You shouldn't be like that with me. I saw you, a few days ago. That night, when you and your friends were beating up that guy...in the playground," you casually stroll to come stand right behind him.

You can't believe you are blackmailing a gangster. Your death must be near.

Seungcheol whips his head back, his eyes glaring at you and you can almost see fire in them. Finally, you got his attention.

"My friend also saw it, we both did. You killed him, didn't you? Me and my friend witnessed a murder. What do you say? Should we go to the station?" You can see his jaw clench and you can't hold back a victorious smirk. Moments pass by as your words hang in the air and the tension between you gets thicker. Yet once more he surprises you, breaking the silence with a chuckle, "Well I killed one person, what makes you think I can't take care of another?"

You swallow.

"Well, my friend already knows so if I go missing you can be sure that the cops will come to you first." You throw back at him.

When did you get so wreckless?

Seungcheol stares at you for a few more seconds before shrugging and moving his hand dismissively, "Well then go tell the cops. I don't give a shit." He starts walking back to the bar leaving you starstruck. He stops and turns towards you before opening the door, "Also, I meant it. I hope I don't see you around. Otherwise I may just have to hurt that pretty face."

You don't show up after that.

Mostly because you are embarasssed.

It's been a good while after your last encounter with Seungcheol and you didn't go to the police, obviously. Because you don't have evidence and from what you've heard Seungcheol is pretty influential around here and you don't need to go to an extent to get on his bad side. You're definitely gonna end up dead if you do so, which you don't want just yet.

Classes have just finished and you and Katelyn step out of the classroom together, walking through the hallways and into the main campus. She rambles on about some bad sushi she ate yesterday while your mind remains preoccupied. Maybe you need to get laid. Maybe that'll make you forget about Seungcheol. You just need good dick that's probably why you were so desperate for him.

That's just a stupid lie.

You don't realise Katelyn is calling you until she shakes you by the shoulder and you snap back into reality. You notice her face is as pale as a ghost and following her line of sight your eyes stop on him.

Him. Seungcheol.

What?

You double take, blinking furiously to confirm your vision. He's standing there, in the parking area of your uni, leaned against a convertible Ferrari, a cigarette between his lips. He looks relaxed, like he does this regularly. Students whisper in each others ear while gawking at him curiously. "What did you do!" Katelyn yells. "Nothing!" You hiss back.

"Then why is he here!"

"I don't know!"

Your eyes meet with Seungcheol's and a smirk spreads across his face making you shiver. He stands up straight and tilts his head, an indication for you to come closer to him. "Fuck, he's here for me," you mumble. "Of course he's here for you, dumbass," Katelyn snaps. "Well, if I don't return, you know who killed me." You sigh starting to walk towards him. "Wait- you're going with him?" She asks incredulously.

"Don't worry. I'll keep my phone on. I don't think he's gonna murder me, I mean there are so many witnesses." You inhale deeply, leaving behind a lost looking Katelyn.

Seungcheol says nothing as you stand right in front of him raising an inquisitive brow but he only holds open the door for you to get in. Deciding to follow him you enter the car quietly and a wave of gasps go through the crowd.

There's gonna be talk about this tomorrow.

Seungcheol, still smirking victoriously for some reason rounds the car and gets inside and within seconds you're hitting the road. There's a thick silence for a while, which feels like ages to you. You're overwhelmed, bewildered to say anything; your poor brain still processing what is happening. You're nervous, jittery as you fiddle with you bag and look out on your side, for some reason scared to look at him.

What if he really kills you? He wouldn't, right?

"You're awfully quiet," Seungcheol says matter of factly as he spares you a glance while driving.

"I'm... processing."

"What are you, a robot?"

"Why are you doing this?" You question instead.

"Doing what?"

"Okay, you know very well what I mean. Why are you picking me up from uni all of a sudden? How do you even know I'm a student there?" "I have resources and...you didn't protest at all. You came along nicely," Seungcheol raised a brow at you, a cocky smile on his lips. You don't answer but continue to stare at him, trying to pin him down with your gaze. He finally sighs and pulls the car to a stop by the side of the road, the sudden brake making you slightly jerk in your seat. "I've decided to give you those 3 dates. That's why," He is calm, unreadable and you wonder if this is a prank. Then again, he has no reason to prank you, does he? "Really?" Your voice comes out breathy. "Yes. I thought I'd give you a taste of how it feels to be with someone like me. I can scare people without physically hurting them you know," He says in a menacing tone.

"So what? You're taking me to an underground fight or something?" You question. "Nah, we're keeping it simple today." He smirks as he starts the car again and turns on the radio, an indication that he doesn't want to converse anymore.

Shamelessly you take a good look at Seungcheol; he's dressed in another jacket today paired with a black tee underneath. Today, you notice he has upped his accessory game, his fingers full of rings and chains dangling from his neck. But what catches your attention is a tattoo, something like a dragon and words written in a language you don't understand, peeking from underneath his sleeve. You almost ask about it but decide it'll probably be too much and he wouldn't answer you anyway.

As you do so, in the back of your mind you think you should have dressed better, something cuter, more appropriate for a date rather than a plain blouse and jeans. But then again who knew Choi Seungcheol was gonna show up out of the blue. You're gnawing at your lower lip, lost in your thoughts when the car is pulled to a halt and you realize your ride is over. You're parked in front of a diner called Lacy's and from the vibe that the place is giving, you can tell that this is place where people like him hang out. You raise a questioning brow at Seungcheol who says, "I know it doesn't look fancy but trust me I has some of the best food I've ever eaten." Taking his words for now you quickly type out a text to Katelyn letting her know you're in one piece and get out of the car.

Once you're seated you look around the place which is relatively empty except some men playing pool at the far end. You watch Seungcheol who has gone to the reception booth to place your orders; his posture relaxed as he leans against the counter and talks to the girl standing there. They seem to know each other because their chat takes longer than it should and the girl has a shy, almost flirty smile on her face.

He probably fucks her.

You shake the thought off your head as the gangster comes back and sits in front of you. There's silence for a second as you wonder if you should just ask the questions that run free around your mind. "Are the rumours true?" You blurt out. He's raises a brow.

"About you. You know..."

"Do you want them to be true?" He asks back. "I don't...know," you reply. "Well, I think it depends on each person. If you want it to be true it is true, if you don't it isn't," he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Why don't you just give me a straight answer?" you snap. He smirks as if he's having fun but doesn't reply, watching you with his arms crossed. You roll your your eyes, blowing out an exasperated breath. "You know, I haven't seen one like you. Willingly hanging out with dangerous people, going to dangerous places. You say you saw me kill someone yet you're here. You're almost desperate to get in trouble," he observes. "I'm not desperate to get in trouble. I just...I'm just- attracted to you alright?" This is so embarrassing. You need to shut your mouth. "You've been on my mind ever since that night. I wanna see exactly how deep I'm into you." You bite your lip.

That's enough. You will boost his ego through the roof like this.

Seungcheol studies you for a bit before grinning cockily, "Well, if you didn't know, I am trouble baby. Just you being with me might end you up in a mess." Before you can reply, your food is served, that same girl from the booth setting down your plates and looking at Seungcheol for a bit too long with that same stupid smile which he returns. You don't know why but you feel jealous, jealous of whatever these two share, whatever she has with him.

You've lost your mind at this point. You're on a high that is Seungcheol. He has made you forget your morals, made you completely lose your mind. Or maybe you've been too good all your life and seeing him brought out that crazy, thrill seeking part of yourself.

Silently you dig into your food and as Seungcheol said, the food is really good. This is one of the best meatloaf you've ever had and you can't help but moan. Seungcheol watches you with an amused smile before popping a fry in his mouth.

"What's your major?" Seungcheol asks out of the blue.

"Uh- sociology."

"Mmhmm."

You're about to ask him what he studied in college but you assume he probably never went to one so you seal your lips. You wonder what his background is and who his parents are but you don't want to get too personal on the first day. So you ask something else, "How old are you?" He laughs out loud before he deadpans, "Thirty five." "What!" You almost choke.

There's no way he's-

"Why? What did you expect?"

"I... I don't know! A few years older than me? You're kidding right? You don't look thirty five." He has to be bluffing. "And how old would you be?" "You shouldn't ask a woman her age," you try to make a point. "Don't you have any manners?" He smirks,"I don't, sweetheart. To answer your question, I'm twenty eight."

Uh huh.

"Well, I'm twenty one," you mutter under your breath. You don't know if he hears it because he doesn't give any reaction, busy twirling a fry in sauce. The rest of your meal is full of silence as you wonder if your date will end like this; dry and boring. He's awfully silent and seems to be lost in thoughts as he doesn't engage in a conversation. You're about to take your last bite when the silence is broken by him.

"What did you see that night?" He leans over, his elbows resting on the table as he suddenly regards you with a sombre look, his earlier cockiness vanished. His eyes have once again gone dark and his demeanor says he's not being superficial right now. You're caught off guard as you cough loudly, reaching for your glass to take a sip of water. "What?"

"You heard me. What did you see that night? Exactly how much did you see?" He repeats. You're confused. You thought he didn't care about it. He said it didn't matter. So why is he bringing it up now? You've worked hard to push that night in the deepest part of your brain, pretending it didn't happen.

And then suddenly it clicks.

"You!" You point an accusatory finger at him as you catch on to his plan. "You've agreed to go out with me so that you can find out what I saw that night!" Seungcheol groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, just fucking tell me!" He snaps, annoyed that you've found out his little scheme. You scoff, "I thought you said you didn't care? Besides it's not like I'm going to tell the police." He rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch. "Just tell me and let me go."

You're baffled. His actions didn't make any sense and you actually thought he had no other intentions behind dating you but holy shit this sneaky bastard. "You sly little asshole!" You hiss at him. "Call me that once more and you'll regret it." He threatens. You roll your eyes sagging back into your seat, "Whatever." Then an idea hits you. "You know what, I'll tell you exactly how much I saw that night." You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he stares intensely at you, waiting for your next words. "On our third date. When this whole deal is over, I'll tell you. But in return you'll have to keep your promise and take me out on two more dates."

"Oh fucking hell," he groans rubbing his face in frustration. His state makes you smirk and you feel accomplished.

Choi Seungcheol is stressed because of you.

What a day to be alive.

You murmur, "Besides this isn't even a proper date. This was more like an interrogation. But I'll go easy on you and won't make you redo this date." You give him a sweet smile and he sees red. You can literally see fury blaze in his eyes. "Whatever!" He yells and abruptly stands up. "I don't have time for this. Your stupid play date is over. I'm dropping you home."

Before you can reply, he's marching towards the door. You've to admit this wasn't the best date but at least you've trapped Choi Seungcheol.

It has been a good week after your so called date at the diner and you haven't heard from him. You expected him to call or text you since he was gracious enough to ask for your number but he didn't. You now realize it was a mistake to not get his number; you had asked him for his when he took yours but being the prick he is he denied to hand over his number to you. You should have forced him to, you sigh. As you sit in the library the ping of your mobile distracts you from your racing thoughts as you realize you have a message. Picking the device up you tap on the notification. Even though it was from an unknown number, you have no trouble figuring out who it is from. A smile graces your lips as you read the words over again.

I'll pick you up from your house tomorrow evening at six.

That's all it says and that is good enough to send a thrum of excitement throughout your body.

You have not held back in dressing up today and you realize it's been a long time since you've dolled up yourself. A long before the clock strikes 6 you are ready; dressed in a cute pastel top and a matching skirt. You've also went ahead and applied makeup, not too much but just enough to maybe catch his eye. Maybe.

You wonder what he has planned for today.

A text from Seungcheol saying he's here has you flying out of your apartment as fast as your feet can carry your desperate self to see him. He stands in front of your apartment with his convertible, dressed in a white jacket that matched his pants. You take a deep breath before walking towards him, trying to calm all your nerves down.

"You know I expected to hear from you earlier. I've been waiting all week," you voice makes his head turn around to meet your eyes as you are skipping towards him with a teasing smile in your face. "I've been busy," he shrugs coolly, his eyes going over your whole body, from your legs to your face. He doesn't hide that he's taking a good look at you, in fact does it unashamedly.

You wonder if he likes what he sees.

Someone dressed up today," he comments. "Too bad we aren't going to a place where you can show off your pretty clothes." You frown, "Where are we going?" Seungcheol holds open the door, a mischievous smile on his face. "I've decided to grant your wish." With a confused face you get inside the car, the gears in your head running. What does he mean?

"I'm taking you to an underground fighting ring," he says with smirk as he reaches for something behind his seat. He pulls out a large hoodie and tosses it towards you, "Put this on. Otherwise you are going to attract a lot of attention and you don't want that." You gulp, taking the hoodie and putting it on you. You're slightly embarrassed. You were so excited to try this outfit but it's not like you knew he was taking you to a fight club. Hell you would have dressed like a guy if you knew. You shrug on the hoodie and it falls almost to your knees but it's huge and comfy and most importantly it smells like him. There's a hint of cologne, nothing too strong; a subtle, expensive scent that makes you want to take a deeper sniff. You wonder if you can keep this with you.

Stop it, pervert.

Seungcheol's voice pulls you out of your haze, "You can take it off later. Just wear it until we're out of there," he says and brings the engine to life.

Then you actually think about it. Underground fighting ring? Holy shit. You were only kidding when you mentioned it. Admittedly, you're shocked, somewhat horrified. Everyone knows it isn't the best place to be at especially for someone like you who never had such an experience. Seungcheol must have seen your expression because the smile on his face gets bigger, "Why? You not up for it?" His voice is teasing.

He's challenging you.

Oh well.

"Of course I'm up for it," you square your shoulders, keeping your voice cool. "Bring it on."

Seungcheol leads you into a bar and then through a door at the back that leads down to a lot of stairs, reaching a place similar to an underground parking lot. Quietly you follow Seungcheol, staying as close to him as possible, your bodies occasionally touching. He leads you to a pair of double doors and from the other side you can hear men shouting and chanting.

This is it, I guess.

Seungcheol throws one more smile at you before pushing open the doors as you scramble to follow him closely. The sight that greets you something you only see in movies. There's a boxing ring where two people are throwing punches at each other and surrounding them from all sides is a wild, loud and excited crowd. They continue to cheer loudly as the two men in the ring continue to box and you hear their grunts and groans.

Holy shit.

Swallowing your eyes meet Seungcheol's who is regarding you with curiosity. "What do you think?" He has to speak loudly for you to hear over the screaming throng. "Uh... It's loud," you say dumbly as you try to think of a reply. But it's too loud for you to even think properly as you take in your unfamiliar surroundings. You see a tall man approaching towards you and out of reflex you shuffle closer to Seungcheol until you realize it's his friend. The guy from the first night. He and Seungcheol grin at each other, patting their backs as they talk close to each others ears. You gawk at them curiously and realize they must be talking about you because his friend takes curious glances at you occasionally. His friend is tall, really tall and well built but unlike his body his face is sweet and puppy like, almost cute. When he grins his canines pop up just like a puppy and you wonder if all his friends are good looking.

After he's done chatting with his friend Seungcheol pulls you close and says, "This is my friend. Mingyu. Always stay near him, you hear me? Don't stray away unless you wanna get hurt." His eyes are stern as he pins you down with his stare but you have other thoughts running in your head.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" You yell over the noise.

He just smirks at you and starts taking his jacket off. "About time you see how we do it around here." His tone is cocky as he hands his jacket to you, "Hold this for me. And stay close to him."

Giving a look at Mingyu Seungcheol starts walking away towards a door that you're guessing is the changing room.

He's gonna fight.

"Wait- but-" Mingyu stops you with a hand on your shoulder and offers you a kind smile. "It's fine. Just stay with me." He then ushers you towards the crowd, spotting a place where you can get a good look at the ring. "Do you guys do this often?" You look up at Mingyu. He smiles sheepishly, "Not me. I tried a few times and I always end up beaten to a pulp. But hyung does this often, he's really good."

"Uh huh, I'm sure he is," you smile dryly. "This is your first time watching a fight, no?" "Definitely." He grins, "Watch carefully then. It's really fun."

You have your doubts on how watching people beat each other up can be fun but you don't comment anything, instead chew on your lip anxiously. Seungcheol really didn't have to go this far? What if he gets hurt badly? Is he trying to impress you?

Don't flatter yourself, your subconscious rolls her eyes.

As the loud cheering that had died down ensues again, your train of thoughts are halted as you see Seungcheol in shorts and his hands covered in boxing gloves, step into the ring. You can't help but ogle at his naked torso, his finely defined and chiseled muscles. He has the perfect body, not too bulky, not too lean just the right amount that gives you a hard time taking your eyes off him. He seems to have noticed your gaze because the second your eyes meet, he throws a haughty, knowing smirk at you. Embarrassed you avert your gaze elsewhere.

His opponent is a muscular man who's growling and banging his chest with his fists, a gesture of intimidation, you suppose. You are definitely intimidated and you wonder if Seungcheol can actually win against him.

The fight starts with a whistle and in mere seconds they are on to each other, throwing punches left and right. Your eyes have a hard time keeping up with them and their fast reflexes and your hands fly to your mouth as a punch lands on Seungcheol's face, followed by repeated blows as Seungcheol falls back. There's a moment of silence as he wipes his bottom lip and you realize there's a cut.

He tilts his neck, popping the bones and glaring at the other man before launching himself on top of his opponent. The next moments are a blurry mess, Seungcheol beating the guy repeatedly until he ends up on the floor but he doesn't stop there. Seungcheol ends it with a sharp jab to his spine and you have no doubt the other man has broken bones with the ways he howls in pain. The match comes to an end like that as the people cheer wildly while Seungcheol steps down from the stage. Mingyu grins at you happily as if what you witnessed was just a regular occurrence, something you should be cheerful about. Shaking your head at the situation, you let out a deflated sigh.

Their life is really so different than yours.

Seungcheol seems to be in a very good mood after the fight as he buys you both some sandwiches and drinks from a deli after you both step out of the bar. You both sit down at a park nearby to eat and watch the night sky. "You know, I thought you were gonna lose," you speak after taking a few bites of the sandwich. Seungcheol scoffs, "You underestimate me, sweetheart. I've been doing this for a long time."

"Do you enjoy it?" You ask quietly, focused on peeling the wrapper from your food. You feel Seungcheol's stare on you. "Yes. Why? Are you scared already?"

"No. I was just... curious. Your definition and my definition of fun is totally different." You murmur. "Of course. What did you think? I go to the mall and shop and watch movies with my friends when I'm bored?" His tone is sarcastic. You bite your lip. "No I didn't. It's just...I feels different now that I have experienced it first hand." Seungcheol offers nothing more, taking a sip of his coke and leaning back into the bench. A silence stretches between the both of except the rustling of the wrapper of your food. "How long have you been doing this?" You blurt out. He frowns at you and you don't expect him to answer but he surprises you.

"For a long time."

He doesn't offer anymore and you don't have the heart to prod him for an actual answer. "And how long do you plan on doing this?"

"What?"

"I mean... don't you have any other plans. Like...do you wanna keep doing what you are doing for the rest of your life? Don't you wanna like... settle down maybe?" Your voice is soft as if you are talking to a child. Seungcheol looks annoyed. He doesn't speak for a while as he stares at the ground, a frown etched to his face. You're about to take back your question when he replies, "I really don't think you understand. I've been trying to tell you that my life is completely disparate to yours. So I don't think like you. I don't have plans like you but neither am I expected to follow a certain pattern like you. I can do whatever the fuck I want, ___. So don't look at me like you pity me. I'm the last person here that should be pitied. " His tone is sharp and it makes you feel bad, like a sensation of needles pricking your heart. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry," You whisper, feeling timid as you look down at your lap. He mutters, "Don't go poking your nose in other people's business. Specially people like me."

He's right. You shouldn't have asked that. You are not close enough to ask things like that. After that there is a silence, this time, an awkward one. There's palpable tension in the air and you feel jittery. Should you just ask him to take you home?

It's still early and truth be told, you don't want to leave him just yet. You only have one more date to go and judging by his reaction, he is in no way interested in a relationship. You heave out a long sigh. You knew very well what you were getting into, yet you couldn't stop yourself. Seungcheol is like a poison, the sweetest one, the one that has you addicted and unable to let go, no matter how much it hurts.

This is a fucking mess.

"Let's get going. I have plans," Seungcheol announces, standing up. You want to protest but you feel like you have ruined the mood, so you follow him mutely to his car.

The drive to your house is awfully quiet, to the point you want to scream out of frustration. Seungcheol seems to be lost in his head as he makes no move to talk. It's like you are alone, but you're not and it's worse, the air full of tension. Soon you have reached your house and he stops the car but keeps the engine rolling, indicating his rush. He keeps still and stares ahead while gripping the steering wheel as you step out of the car in silence. "Thanks for dropping me home," you say lamely, your voice meek. You turn around to walk away but his voice stops you in your tracks.

"I promised you three dates and I will keep my word. I expect you to keep yours, ___. I hope you will tell me what I want to hear when we meet next time." His tone is sharp with an edge of threat and you barely get to nod before he drives away.

It's not until you're inside your apartment that you realize you still have his hoodie on. Quickly fishing out your phone you type out a text.

I'm sorry, I forgot to return your hoodie.

After a while, his reply comes.

Keep it.

You watch Katelyn as she fills her lunch tray with food before walking over and taking a seat opposite to you. She looks extra radiant today, which probably has something to do with the way she's dressed; a bright colourful outfit which undoubtedly she put a lot of time into considering. She has a date, with a guy she has been talking to for the last few weeks. It reminds you of your pitiful situation and you sigh, trying to shrug off those thoughts.

It has been a good couple weeks since you last saw Seungcheol and you have not exchanged a word after that night. In the back of your mind you wonder if he is even alive. You want to message him, you really want to because you are going crazy but after how your last date ended, you can't bring yourself to. You are scared, exactly of what, you can't put your finger into.

The entire situation you have put yourself into is fucking scary. They say you become sure of your feelings after three dates but it did not take that much for you. You already are very certain about your feelings for him and how deep they run exactly and you also know that in the end you will be left scarred. He would never be yours. He has probably forgotten about you or decided that it is not worth another date to figure out what you saw that night.

You let a desperate, pitiable sigh.

"I know you are hiding things from me but I understand that you are not ready to talk yet. But I want you to know I am here for you okay?" Katelyn's voice makes you blink your way out of your thoughts. She squeezes your hand tightly and gives you a reassuring smile and you're left feeling guilty.

"I ...I will tell you. Soon. Just give me a bit more time," you whisper. She nods in understanding. A grateful smile touches your lips as her words make you emotional. Then there's a ping from your phone letting you know there's a message. Without giving it much thought you open the device and your eyes go wide.

I'll take you out for dinner tomorrow night. Wear something formal.

You wait outside your apartment for Seungcheol. Your day has passed by in a flurry of excitement and nerves as you carefully picked your outfit and did your hair and makeup. A soft baby pink dress that stopped just above you knees adorns you as your hair rests just above your neck in a loose bun.

You are fiddling with your fingers as you think about how this night is gonna end and wether you will ever see him again when a car screech that grabs your attention.

Seungcheol's convertible has taken a stop in front of you and you see the man getting out the vehicle and take big steps towards you.

You're mesmerized.

Perhaps there is not enough word in this world to describe his looks or perhaps you've simple lost the ability to speak; either way, you just stand and stare, drinking the godly man that stands in front of you. He looks delectable, completely flawless and agonizingly gorgeous in his sharp black suit and pants, with a silk black shirt underneath, the top couple buttons undone that reveals a beautiful porcelain skin. His hairstyle completes the look, parted to one side in a sleek way and showing his forehead and oh god is it sexy. You realize you have a forehead kink, if there is anything as such.

If you weren't in love with him before you are now.

He looks ravishing, and you wonder why it isn't illegal to look this good. It should be because you have completely lost control over yourself. Nothing exists in your world except for him and you feel paralyzed, unable to do anything but drink him in. You wonder if you are even worthy to stand beside him.

"____?" Seungcheol calls you, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. He must have been calling you while you were eye fucking him. "Oh! Um, hi." You're flustered. "You- you look really, really nice." It isn't enough but it's what you can get past your lips. A knowing smirk kisses his lips before he teases, "Well, you look really, really nice too." Motioning you to his car he says, "Shall we? We'll be late for our reservation."

"Yeah, of course," you say, hurrying over to his car, embarasssed at your foolery. Seungcheol must have noticed you ogling him like that. But you don't really care when he looks like that. It is his fault for looking so devilishly handsome and idly you wonder if he did that on purpose. If he's deliberately teasing with, trying to make you the most miserable before letting you go with a slap of reality to your face. Pushing away those plagueing thoughts, you sit up straight and clear your throat as Seungcheol comes to sit beside you and brings the engine to life.

A decently long and quiet (except for the music from the radio) but not quite uncomfortable car ride later, Seungcheol stops in front of a really fancy and expensive looking restaurant just by the sea. You did not except him to take you to a high end restaurant, otherwise you would have put some more effort in your looks.

Feeling slightly out of place you quietly follow Seungcheol into the beautiful European styled building after he hands his keys to a valet. The interior is dripping with polished furnitures and extravagant chandeliers and marble floors as guests dressed elegantly have their dinner. As you look around the place in awe Seungcheol talks to the receptionist who then guides you towards a staircase that leads to a pair of large double doors decorated with gold which then, opens to a large balcony. In the middle of it sits a table with two chairs and an unceremonious gasp escapes your mouth as you realize this is where you will be having dinner.

The man from earlier takes his leave as Seungcheol helps you sit down before taking a seat for himself while you take in everything, overwhelmed with all your surroundings. Why did he put so much effort for a lousy and fake date?

"What do you think?" He asks with a smirk as he rests one of his elbows on the table.

"I'm overwhelmed," you reply quietly, honestly. He chuckles, "Well this place has really good food and a fantastic view so I thought it wouldn't bad for our last date."

Last date.

"It's really beautiful. I don't know why you did this but thank you, really," you murmur, eyes on the satin table cloth with intricate golden lining. Everything about this place is so pretty.

"Well, I decided it would be beneficial for me to extract words from you if you are wooed," his words have a teasing tone to it and his demeanor is completely different from last time, giving you a whiplash but you are not sure if he's fully joking. Before you can say that you are definitely wooed, a waiter appears to take your order and you leave the duty of ordering to Seungcheol since he seems to frequent this place. Prior to his leave, the waiter pours you Seungcheol's champagne of choice and then, you two are alone once more.

Reaching for the flute, you quickly gulp down the champagne to soothe your dry throat and to calm all your nerves.

Over dinner you talk about your uni and your parents back home and the farm they own. While Seungcheol mostly keeps quiet he doesn't ignore you but listens carefully, occasionally passing glances your way or commenting. He does not offer anything about him, which you expected and you don't ask any questions about him either. Instead you try your best to keep his interest in your words despite the lack of it from his side.

After a hearty meal of poached lobsters and wagyu beefs and creamy soups comes dessert; a chocolate orange mousse with spiced fruits and yogurt sorbet. You start eating your dessert in silence, the occasional crashing of waves filling the complete lack of sounds.

This location is truly magnificent and breathtaking, almost having a feel like you're in a fancy resort in a luxurious tropical island. It is undoubtedly the most beautiful place you have ever been, let alone have dinner at and you wonder if you would ever have the chance to visit some place like this had you not met Seungcheol. The man in question, continues eating quietly, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He looks lovely as always, if not more and you try to burn this image in your mind for you to look back at later. You want to ask him so many question, you want to tell him so many things but you're scared. Sacred if you do so this moment will break, scared it will annoy him and end your final date all too early. So you bite your tongue and finish your food as he does and after your plates are cleared away, you are served another expensive champagne as an end to your luxurious dinner.

Even though Seungcheol doesn't say anything, you assume it is time to spill the beans, to say what he has been wanting to hear from the beginning. You have teased him enough and it is time you give him what he deserves. Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth. "Me and Katelyn heard noises from the playground that night so we decided to check. It was pretty dark and we were tipsy but I recognized you and you were... beating someone up. We stayed there and watched until one of us accidentally made some noise. We were scared that you heard us so we ran. That's all that happened."

You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he listens cautiously, his sharp eyes trained on you. Gulping, you clench your hands together underneath the table, waiting for his reaction. There seems to be an eternity of silence as Seungcheol simply stares at you as if he's debating whether your words are true or not. It's torturous, awfully agonizing and when you can't bear it anymore you're about to speak but he beats you to it.

"I didn't kill him." His voice is quiet. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Somewhere in the back of your mind you believed it, you believed he wouldn't be cruel enough to kill someone just like that and as soon as he speaks those words you believe him, without a doubt, without a second of delay.

"I believe you." You whisper, holding his gaze. "That asshole deserved what he got. He shouldn't even be alive but I let him go. He's in a hospital now, if you are wondering." You nod quietly. It's scary how much you believe him, how much you trust him even though he is pretty much a stranger.

There's a moment of silence as you bask in his presence before he speaks, "____, men like me, we aren't the nicest people. But we are needed, the cops need us around. People like me do the dirty works for people like you so y'all don't face troubles. We do things in an unconventional way but that's just who we are. We aren't as bad as the rumours say but we definitely aren't someone you should be with." You open your mouth to protest but his sharp gaze makes you stop. "If you have not understood it yet, let me say it out loud. I am trouble. People like me is always bad news. Whatever we did until now, I hope you forget. That's the best, ____ trust me. I think we both got what we wanted so let's call it a night." Just like that, he stands up, not waiting for your reply.

You gawk at him, baffled as he pays the bill and starts walking away. Tears burn the back of your eyes and you bite your lip to hold them back. The ending that you had expected has taken place but you are having a hard time accepting it. Your subconscious reminds you that you deliberately got yourself into this even though you saw this coming. So there is no one to blame for it but you. Grabbing your purse, you stomp your way out of the restaurant and towards Seungcheol's car.

Seungcheol barely acknowledges you as you both get in the car and he presses the key to the ignition. You are fuming in your seat, his words and the way he dismissed you cutting you deep. His words come to you, I think we both got what we wanted. You want to laugh. How can he possibly think that? Is he really so stupid or is he deliberately ignoring your interest in him? You want to smack his perfect face, curse and scream at him but all you can do is sit still with your arms crossed as steam comes out of your head. Is he really not curious about your feelings? Does he possess none for you? Does these few days with you mean nothing to him? You have so many unanswered questions. Leaning back into your seat, you close your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

It feels like in the blink of an eye the drive to your place is over as Seungcheol halts his car in front of your apartment. He does not utter a single word, doesn't even spare a glance at you while patiently waiting for you to get out of the car.

Asshole.

You inhale deeply, trying your best to gather yourself together as you take off your seatbelt and turn towards him.

"Seungcheol?" Few seconds pass before he looks at you. Words are stuck in your throat. When your eyes meet his, you become mute, overwhelmed with emotions as your words die in your tongue. He keeps staring at you, not opening his mouth but waiting for you to speak. "Is this goodbye?" Your voice breaks.

"I believe we don't have any reason to see each other. We both got what we wanted," He says without batting an eye. You're left bemused, one step away from landing a slap on his face. How dare he say that?

"Do you really believe that?" Your words come out as an accusation. "I wanted to go out with you because I thought I have feelings for you! And I do! And my feelings have only increased since I first saw you. I want to see you again, Seungcheol. You may have gotten what you wanted but I didn't." Your fades into a whisper as tears burn the back of your eyes.

Seungcheol stays quiet, staring ahead, his brows knitted as if he's annoyed. "I promised you three dates, ____. And I gave you that. It's over. Your feelings? You'll get over them. It's better to be in pain for a while that be with someone like me."

"You can't say that! I get to decide for myself!"

"____," he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I'm a bad man. You should leave while you still have a good image of me. You'll get hurt because of me and I've caused enough pain to enough people. Just...go. Just forget me." You stare at him as frustrated tears roll down your cheeks. He doesn't meet your gaze but turns his head the other way. You are angry, infuriated and heart broken all at a time. Clenching your fists you inhale a shaky breath before reaching for him.

Before you can chicken out, you tilt his face towards you and quickly press your lips against his. Seungcheol seems to be shocked as a small gasp leaves his mouth but you don't let him push you away. Instead one of your hands come to rest on his thigh as he other cups his face to keep his mouth against yours. You kiss him with all you have left, pouring in every bit of passion and love for him as your tongues intertwine. By the time you are both breathless, Seungcheol gently pushes you back and peers into your eyes. "That's all I can give you, ____." He says, his voice the softest you have heard. You are broken into a million pieces and as much as your heart wants to cling to him, you suddenly feel tired, deflated like a popped balloon. Your emotions have drained you out and left nothing and right now, breathing almost seems too painful for you. Taciturnly, you grab your purse and step out the convertible. You hear another door shut behind you but you don't look back as your heavy steps carry you to the entrance of your building. When you are about to enter your apartment, you accumulate all your strength and courage to spare one final glance at him.

Turning around you see Seungcheol standing by his car, hands in his pockets, simply watching you. Even though your eyes are locked on each other, you don't see any emotion in them. He looks like the same expressionless, mysterious man you saw the first day. The man you fell in love with. Taking in his gorgeous features one last time, you bite your lip and turn away, forcing yourself to walk inside your apartment building.

Your chapter with Seungcheol ends here.

Epilogue

A/N : Okay so idk why this fucking app is being like this but it says I reached the maximum of 250 blocks but I thought tum1r didn't have a word limit?? Anyway so I've decided to break it up and put the rest of the fic in another post. Please click epilogue to read that.

Taglist: @koo-18 @shiningstar-byulxx @pcisonedhaos @happyvitamin @yoongischeeksluv @haluim17 @nayam14 @horanghae-gumanhae @cottonsthings @hotcheetosnorter99 @peekabooseoksoon @acapellaanna @amixoferrthang

#seventeen scoups #scoups imagines #scoups fluff #scoups smut #seventeen #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen seungcheol #kpop drabbles #kpop smut

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kthynes · 3 years

Text

THE MIXOLOGIST 🍸 (1/7)

part one: tequila wine

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: bartender!steve rogers x fem!reader

summary: after a rough break up you find yourself frequenting the same bar every night where you’re tended to by Steve who helps you through your heartbreak.

warnings: 18+ nsfw — MINORS DNI. This part contains: excessive alcohol consumption and the very repercussions of it, course language, mentions of heartbreak/break up/cheating (don’t condone this bit). Angst. Crude humour, bit of passive aggressiveness/self deprecating tendencies. TW the reader yacks here.

word count: 5k

authors note: this part will mostly play into the readers emotions just so you guys get a feel for it. The rest of this series will be a bit easy going and fun with lots of lessons to be learned and tribulations to overcome. But that’s life right?

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged! And as self explanatory as it should be, please do not copy and/or translate my works onto any other platforms. Cheers!

taglist: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @mrs-djokovic @bookwormchick91 @lauracontisstuff @blossombela @maroonsunrise83

This series has not been beta’d so any mistakes are my own.

Here’s an unfortunate truth: By and large, humans are pretty bad at relationships. Sure, we’ve devolved into them well enough that the world somehow keeps a moving tailspin.

Life goes on, we rechance those encounters and take part in the hierarchy of social genesis — that’s how the subspecies have adapted to what Darwinian scientists root as the segmentary socio-cultural differentiation dogma. Blah, blah, blah...

But apart from the whole anthropological semantics, there’s another end to a beginning when it comes to fostering deep, personal relationships, more so romantic relationships. And that is heartbreak.

“Fuck me.” You moan under your breath, head making a near bang against the curving plexiglass bar top.

They say heartbreak is a consequence of emotional bonding. It’s a soul crushing adversary that almost every romcom thrives on.

Now, by default, it’s your turn.

“With love comes heartbreak. Am I right?” You drunkenly proclaim to a neighboring patron who wordlessly lifts his beer snout on cue. He’s reverent on hearing your troubles as his own for the fifth time in a row.

“Cheers to that, I guess.” You sardonically forfeit while doing the raw honor of slurping your shot rather than being sensible and shooting it down. You were keenly inept on feeling the burn and no one was meant to stop you.

The apocryphal Manhattan nightlife is a buzzing quandary. Somewhere on Bleecker Street, once an American Bohemia, you become a near right chauvinist. You have seven brimming tequila shots neatly lined up, four emptied and the rest dumped into a wide glass full of red wine. You spirited away your pain and made up your own concoction; tequila wine, as you called it.

Blow by blow you could only recall how ugly and despairing your life had become. Loving one man who chose to sleep with another. Men, they’d have gall and curiosity, both in spite of the other.

“You know I gave him my all.” You joust, half lidded. The no name man gives you another fleeting, uneasy smile. “Fucked him in all sorts of positions and places and then lo and behold he’s getting his dick sucked on an all inclusive business trip in Hawaii.”

“Oh c’mon!” He rambunctiously groans, not because of your existential crisis but because the Sox had defeated the Yankees in a series match. A number one crime in the big apple state. Now where were we?

“His little doe-eyed secretary, skanky as they come and barely legal I’m sure. God I should’ve known.” You pathetically fuss, soon gritty with anger that glosses over you.

Your hand slams down on the hard surface and lingers. There’s a rejoicing thought, one you replay over and over again. It doesn’t escape you when you’d been fateful enough to grovel through hours of pre-recorded footage and fun play, not to mention the lewd pictures, token messages and voice memos that left a soldering imprint for you to latch onto. Reminding you of a far less woman who was only desired in consolation.

“Who the fuck saves their nudes on a shared cloud account? Ass out, tits drawn—“ Another snarl is sent your way as you peruse, obliterated out of your mind. “She’s got great tits by the way, they sit nice and high. My fiancé, EX FIANCÉ, let me tell you, he’s a big boobs guy. Mines aren’t even contenders, they’re spread apart, almost like Admiral Akbar on a good day. What am I talking about, I should just show you. Do you wanna see ‘em?”

Your bar buddy is nearly horrified, mouth agape and possibly someone’s father and husband at that. It’s a mere attempt, a strip show that he’s saved from as you go to unbutton your top.

“Hey, hey! That's enough, you can’t do this here, alright?” Your long time friend Matt Fontucci sweeps right in uniform. He’s been tied up, bar back and working the stretch before coming to your aid. He had no idea you were coming until you showed up.

“Matty!” You squeal with your arms flailing in the air gesticating a warm, hearty welcome. The top few buttons of your blouse are left flung open, reprimanding the sweaty bartender an eyeful. “How come we never fucked?”

“Well maybe, for one, it has to do with the fact that I’m married, have been for a while now.” He cautiously studies your sagging, messy composure that comes undone to a different pulse.

“So I’m not your free pass then?” You valet, laying your chin on top of your stacked fists.

“What has gotten into you?” Matt winced right under the cowering strobe lights as both his hands brace the counter, lowering to get a better look at your bloodshot eyes.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You peer at him innocently. The corners of his mouth twitch just as he sourly ponders over your inquisition, not that he has to. But overall it pains him to see you hurt like this. It’s a new wonder.

“No.”

“Rude.” You sit up straight and vainly spare no effort to finish off your cocktail. Hand to mouth coordination is unparalleled as the alcohol starts to dribble down your chin and onto your delicate work blouse.

“What is this?” Matt yanks the glass away from your grasp to inspect the drink. He didn’t serve you tonight so clearly you had gotten your jaunty way with the wait staff who probably weren’t aware of the situation. You were coded “trouble” in a semi decent crowd. He’d now have to make sure of it.

“Hey!”

“The devil's margarita, nice.” He hums after taking an unwarranted swig and letting the taste marry in his mouth.

“Sure whatever the hell that is.” You grumble while reaching over to take back the sloshing wine glass. With dire retaliation you chug down the entire cocktail in one go. Matt growls with displeasure and you hiss loudly once the drink is polished off. “Oh look it, now the devil’s in me.”

The glass drops from above, a near jerk reaction from Matt who catches it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N, you’re gonna end up on a stretcher.”

“I have an undiagnosed ulcer the size of Mars, I’ll live. Now how about you do me a solid and get me ‘nother shot. Just one, look away if you have to… I don’t give a shit.“ You slur and Matt squarely clenches his jaw, glaring with irreparable judgement.

Meanwhile there’s some enigmatic juxtaposition as Steve watches the unraveling back and forth. He’s distended with some concern as your body resigns and slumps halfway over the barrier, the weight of your drunkenness keeps you down for the latter being. It’s a truthful sight that he’s partway gotten used to by now. Every week there’s a new drunk. This week you were on the special.

“She’s cut.” Matt bashfully declares to his superior who’s working the beer taps and a less rowdier crowd that comes and goes.

“You know her?” Steve ponders before turning to hand a customer their bubbling pint. “Here you are.”

“Yeah she’s a… friend.” Matt drags his feet, clearly frustrated with himself.

“Hey man can I get a—“

“He’s off the clock, what can I get for you?” Steve in turn diverts the patron his way. The older gentleman, dressed in business casual, was wisecracking his inquiries that could call for trouble and cut corners.

“Do you guys do triples?”

“In the same glass? No. That’s measured past the legal limit, we only serve doubles.” Steve scratches his bearded cheek, his super soldier hearing could pick up on your gargling groans. His eyes flicker in your general direction and that’s when you peel yourself off the sticky bar top. A relieving prospect for any bartender.

“Got it. I’ll just get a whiskey neat then.” He decides.

“Coming right up.” Steve idly reaches for one of the top shelf whiskeys, then brandishing a clean lowball cocktail glass to pour a double shot of Crown in. His own choice.

“I don’t know where I put my phone and wallet…” Matt feels his back pockets, narrowly pacing the strip before stopping a short distance.

“MATT WHERE’S MY FUCKING DRINK YOU ASS?!” You boom over the surround sound causing heads to turn in your wake. You’re propped up on your knob knees that swivel in the barstool due to the lack of balance.

You were wreaking absolute havoc. Unbothered and wrongfully awry, you smolder your friend and his hot bar companion a narky ‘what now’ glare.

“What a peach. Someone better catch her.” Whiskey neat snickers, running a thumb over his bottom lip with an indescribable look.

“IF I DON’T GET MY DR-INK THIS INSTANET. I SWARE TO YOU I’LL—“

“Hey lady cool it will ya?!” The man sitting next to you has had enough of your shit. You offensively gawk at the pigheaded man who’s blotchy and just as intoxicated as you.

“Oh fuck off Lord Crumb.”

“Is she alright?” Steve asks his off duty attendant.

“Her dickhead fiancé cheated on her. So she’s never been better.” Matt rushes to undo his apron, planning his escape before slowly regressing to stop and look over his shoulder. “Why the fuck is she like this?”

Steve, using a few second count, finishes pouring the drink and then slides it to the customer who hears his order.

“Thanks boss.” The suit kraken chimes. Steve doesn’t appraise this type of man who flicks his tip at him. This is an era that made no sense to the nomad who realizes that common courtesy was masochistically excluded from the working class.

He sighs while shoving a crumpled Abe Lincoln into the communal jar, not pressing his indignation.

Today’s troubles are tomorrow’s struggles. You’d come to know that as well.

“Great, how am I supposed to leave now?” Matt looses himself while trying to get to you. A good friend with a heavy hearted conscience. “I can’t be around for this, Steve. I have to somehow get back to Lana and the baby, fuck the baby.”

Steve tries not to laugh at the young man who’s almost always taken aback by the fact that his fruitful loins made him a father.

“Yeah you should really get going man, can’t tell you how many times Lana has called the bar line. Hi there sweetheart, another refill?” Steve charms a beautiful ailing blonde who shyly approaches the till with her friend in tow.

“Yes please.” While twirling a stray lock of hair she hands him a used wine goblet. Her world consumes him as he smiles wholeheartedly.

“What is it that you’d like?”

“Can I get a Zinfandel?”

“Absolutely.” He winks at her to acquire a nice tip and to make her night while at it. “And for your friend?”

“Oh, um, just a cosmo please.” The meek brunette incites just below a hearing decibel.

“Of course.”

Matt stares at him incredulously. “OK so I’m in deep horse shit then?”

“Possibly.” Steve moves around to grab the requested wine from the cellar shelf. He examines each label and then produces a house wine to defuse.

“Why didn’t you think to tell me this earlier Steve?”

“Would you have left?” The cork lets out a pop fizzle, freely releasing the aromatic scent of the ripest black-skinned wine grape, one that would make any bartenders mouth water. The two men soon share a funny look, Matt clicks his tongue with disappointment. “What?”

“You don’t know what it's like.”

“I don't, which is why there is absolutely no reason for you to be stressed, my friend. I’m around, I’ll keep an eye out on Granny Moses over there and make sure she gets out in one piece. After all, it’s my bar, my rules.”

“Chilled or room temp darling?” Steve’s piercing blue eyes catch the swooning blonde who quirks up from her trance.

“Oh, room is perfectly fine.”

Matt snorts, rubbing his face a couple times. “You’d do that?”

“Not without a good fight.” Steve adds while topping off the young woman’s wine glass. Her slinking form studies him as he crafts his work with precision and care. “There you are, doll. Enjoy. And I’ll have your cosmo to you shortly.”

“Great thanks!” The brunette squeaks like a caught spectator.

“Go. Home, Fontucci.” Steve pauses to tell his subordinate. “I promise you’ll have a job tomorrow.”

Matt watches you zone out with waves of sadness. He feels your anguish. It doesn’t sit right with him but he reluctantly chooses to leave it at that, patting Steve on the back as he did, the apron comes swishing off his waist and wrapped in a bundle.

“That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll see you tomorrow Rogers.”

🍸

You had extended your stay well past invitation, your drunkenness still stringing you along in spurts. Throughout the night, Steve had some of his pious wait staff check up on you because he was too busy, single-handedly working the bar. Not that he wanted to.

Your phone would chime, Matt pleading with you to go home. You’d reply with emojis, immaturely blowing up his device to get a point across.

“On me." You slowly glance up at the stranger, soon like a fish out of water.

Right in front of you was god almighty himself. A tall, buff, brooding man, sporting a close garibaldi and long light brown tresses shared a softened expression as he passes you a sweaty glass that contains something more insipid and resembling closer to water.

"This better be vodka." You lament, a light sip passes your lips and confirms that it is, in fact, glacial water straight from the East river bayous. “And it’s not.”

"I'm only saving you from a hangover sweetheart." Steve reckons his usual call.

"If only you could save me from all this fucking misery." You huff into the cold brimmed high ball. He guns you another look, brows stitched together while one hand wrings the other. There’s some passing concern that intercepts his thoughts but doesn’t quite reach past his gaping mouth.

"Hey!" A stocky middle aged man calls out to the strangling barkeep.

“Don’t let me hold you up.” You grumble.

"Give me a second alright?" Steve’s voice discernibly deepens. There’s a group of howling men that begin to encroach the opposite end of the establishment, unattended as you wave off the super soldier.

"It's fine I'm going to head out soon anyways." You tell him even though your feet barely touch the ground. It's ascertaining that one wrong move could have you toppling over so you hold up a propositioning finger and signal to your overly cautious savior. "That’s if I can get my head on straight.”

You giggle out of the blue, catching yourself as you did. When was the last time you actually genuinely giggled? “I’m sorry.” You pathetically hiccup to yourself and out loud.

"Stay." He warns you. A man on command.

“Do I even know you?”

“You know Matt right?”

“Sure.”

“Then you know me. Steve.”

“Lovely.” You roll your eyes while taking another distracted sip. Steve cracks a half grin, backing away to attend his coupe.

Then came last call. You were bum numb in your seat. The evening crowd was thinning out. You had the whole aisle to yourself, barely holding on. Steve kept you at your lonesome peace, guzzling water from the tap at every opportunity. But little did he know, you were carrying a small ritzy hip flask filled with bourbon, sneaking sips in between each soundtrack that aptly relayed your angst. You could never have enough.

First it was Un-Break My Broken Heart. Sip. Then Dreaming with a Broken Heart. Swig. To finally elate your spite, Heartless was thrown in and at that you’ve drained down the rest. Your tribulations become an early 2000s orison. Beauty ain’t it?

“How are we doing?” Steve swings by, wiping his large veiny hands on a rag. He nods at a passing bus boy who gathers people as they’re soliciting chatter.

2 am never felt somber than this.

“I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing. Just prayin' to a God that I don't believe in. […] Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even!” You belt out loud and off key with the next track that plays on loop, startling Steve who wasn’t expecting a sudden performance.

“What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?” You tilt the flask up to your lips, forgetful when you’re left with a drop. Clatter and bang. The flask gets swung and dropped, far from your reach and below you swinging feet.

“Sweetheart.” He pitifully hums as you continue.

“And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK? I'm falling to pieces, yeah. I'm falling to pieces.” You sing, voice cracking a smidge.

“Hey, do you mind clearing the kegs for me?” Steve dully asks his floor assistant who pipes a ‘yes boss.’ Sorry for him and sorry for you. “Thanks.”

“Great song.” You sniff, refusing to meet the handsome bartender's eye.

“The Script right?” Steve starts clearing the area for you, picking up the empty slim jim and carefully showcasing some display of understanding. Usually he’d kick people out at the first whiff, no warning, no remission. But your hurt spoke to him at a spiritual level —in ways he, himself, couldn’t explain to a monk.

“I don’t want to feel this way anymore, Stove.” You say right after he goes to put away the last glass in the dishwasher.

“Steve.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” He chuckles.

“I’m not being funny.”

“I know you aren’t.” He bites down on his thrashing lip, his eyes boulder you a look that imitates life in its purest form. “You’ve been wronged and so here you are, entitled as can be.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Just not my call.”

“Oh fuck off.” You turn your head away, still off balance in your seat.

“Look sweetheart, you don’t need me to tell you how it is and how it’s going to be, alright? I’m just a friend owing another friend some relief.”

“Unbelievable. Matt didn’t have to put you up to this.” You snap, grasping the ledge to lean forward like a snooty school child.

“You’re telling me.” That earns Steve another eye roll and a girlish whatever.

“Wait, hold on, what is it that you think of me?” First impressions, they ought to mean something. Steve was magmatic. Beautiful bone structure, strong and supple while choosing to chop you up with every little punitive glare. You were flummoxed.

“What do I think of you?” He admonishes.

“Yeah.”

“I think that you don’t have to be at my bar, crying a nuisance to know your worth.” Steve ruminates. “And I’m not saying this for the sake of but I genuinely believe you deserve way better than what you’ve been dealt with.”

“Oh nice is this where I take off my pants for you?” Your hands fumble on the tightly wedged in button that gives no way.

“It’s your lucky night. Keep ‘em on,” Steve humors with one clean swipe of the bar counter. He’s taken by your quick wit. A woman out of his time but virtuous at most, nearly taking every crap shot with earnestness.

“Hmm, why thank you.” You pageant.

Steve holds off when a mused thought graces him. He’d surely have to know and that’s when the rag drops. “If I see you back here, will you promise me one thing?”

“Schuwaaa.” Sure. You meant sure.

“Be better. He’ll die to see it, but if you know how to live and how to move on then there’s your redemption.”

“That’s kind of a hard ask, don’t you think?” You scoff while he dashes around to quickly to put away his equipment.

“Never said it was going to be easy, love. Now c’mon let’s get you home.”

Steve doesn’t wait for a yes or a no, he simply ambles down a few steps to make a showstopping appearance. Your sight is set on his full form that prances around in a fitted, all black ensemble, stationary with the dress code. He’s a domineering man by nature and for that your head begins to spin. Closeness is a unsaid proximity.

“Ugh do I have to go?” You boldly whine up at his stature.

“Unfortunately.” He chuckles as he helps you land on your feet with known grace and delicacy. “Bars closed.”

You can’t outshine the doer. It takes you a while to forthright your bearings, the cool air whipping around as you swayed in Steve’s baggy flight jacket. His scent envelopes you like a warm, citrusy hug on fall evening.

Steve hovers over in a far corner, rocking on the balls of his feet while taking a smoke break, inhaling and exhaling quick, short puffs that were meant to provide solace.

“Your Uber should be here soon.” He tells you with a far away look. Your stomach violently lurches with insight and vengeance, everything you've consumed comes creeping up, mouth salivating in preparation like Pavlovian hound dog.

“Great long before I—“ Projectile vomit. Chunks. Red white and murky. Bits of the very questionable dinner you had slimed onto the pavement. “What is that?”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, stamping out his cigarette as you groan at the monstrosity laid out on display. “Alright hang on.”

“I don’t think I ca—blarghahaka.” New sounds chorus out of your mouth, an onomatopoeia of dreadfulness that covers you in sweat. Two warm hands keep your head still as you heave and swab globs of spit onto the cracked sidewalk. Your lungs tire out deep, burning breaths. The lining of your stomach quelled some more, churning against the gravitational pull that keeps you keening over.

“Is she throwing up?” You could hear the fazy Uber driver stick his head out the window. He sees a Picasso painting and sneers with disgust. “Oh hell nah. I can’t take her like that. Are you kidding me? I just got my interiors detailed.”

“She’s letting it all out man. You won’t even have to worry.” Steve relents with a close hand hovering the small of your back. His ghosting touch relieves you as you’re hunched over with tears pooling in your eyes. You’re stupid for this. You should’ve stayed home, cried into a tub of ice cream instead.

“Forget that. Nah, you’re going to have to find someone else. She’s a liability and not to mention sloppy as hell.”

You aggressively flip him the bird. He curses you out in Spanish, like a scorned Bronx native. There’s enough cockamamie to run its course. Steve furrows an off put frown, hoping someone would play nice.

“That’s enough.” His hand cradles the back of your sweltering neck, gripping it ever so gently. You moan, sidling his guilt upon contact. Steve gets slightly protective of you, a woman he’d met just a few hours prior to. Your life was in his hands, sinfully warm and broken beyond repair. How did you become his tyrant? And why did he feel stuck?

Words were left scarce as your eyes pulse shut. Steve, still watchful, doesn’t budge from your side. His hand softly rubs your back, soothing you from the jaws of the technicolor yawn. He drifts when you drop a squat at ground level, your joints crack agonizingly as you go to hold your head. Old age and poor alcohol tolerance served you right.

“You’re on your own, my guy. Good luck.” The snarky Uber departs with a light cackle.

Steve purses his lips, scoffs with a resounding ‘I know’ that’s way too quiet for you to pick up on. Not that you cared anyways. Who was he to you?

“Mmmm.” You groan at the putrid stench of bile that rinses your flavor palette. Agitation is kept dormant as your face crumples, a residual defect hollows your insides through constant hurdles and false alarms. Deep breaths.

Deep. Breaths.

“I read that the ‘hair of the dog’ approach always works. What do you think?” Steve sarcastically punts, hands shoved in his pockets as he passes you a crinkly eyed smile, trying to ease light into the situation.

Hair of the dog. An old wives tale. A running myth where you’d counterintuitively drink more to cure a hangover or the precipice of one.

“Oh bite me.” You spit before wobbling back up on your feet. His hand easily catches your elbow, trying to keep you steady in waiting.

“You’re all sorts of trouble aren’t you?” Steve’s eyes glimmer the second he notices the smudged mascara, patchy foundation and pouty, wet lips. Your hair, wind chapped, is a character of its own. Heartbreak, embedded your live caricature with unceasing reigns.

It’s no comparison that Steve felt sorry for you. His astuteness came from the fact that he would’ve been the same. Love came intensely for him but then went away as the years passed on. An infirmary of his life was temporary. He couldn’t rely on love or people. But because time heals everyone, he's sure you’d also get your unsaid way. Maybe even without him chuck hauling you in the middle of Greenwich where everyone else was one and all the same.

“Like the rest.” You slyly chime just as a soirée of drunken youth hoot past you both. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna try to get home.”

“Not on your own. You’re coming with me.”

“Woah stranger danger! I’m not going anywhere with you.” You garble as he’s close to dragging you by the elbow, fully capable of taking you hostage if by will.

“I promise, I’ll get you home safe.” Steve Rogers reasons, patriotic and truthful.

“Ha! Yeah right. I’ve seen Dateline mister.” He hasn’t.

“And I’ve dealt with HYDRA. What are our odds?”

“Is that like a utility plant?” Your confusion stuns him, not that you were meant to be extraterrestrial or literate. You were a plain ol’e Nashville civilian. But then there’s Steve, who doesn’t need to dwell on his past life anymore. There’s no reason for him to bring it up. So instead, he drags you around the block, maybe curbing you to your senses while getting to his car.

“So is this how you get women to come home with you?” You dredge the heels of your loafers that come in contact with the dry concrete. Being a deadweight serves you no purpose as Steve skids your tread with his quick feet and even stronger pull.

“Not just any woman.” He grunts, remote starting his Ford Mustang before ushering you into the passenger side. You barely bend to get in but then finally acquiesce when he huffs softly. For someone who’s the size of a wild bison Steve had beautiful, soul piercing blue eyes that chipped away at your resolve. He was that good. And you’d never tell him.

“Aww I must be the exception then?”

“No you’re just a pain in the ass.” The door slams right in your face. It’s endearing.

“I’m usually not like this.” You ruefully mention and he yanks the car into a deep, guttural start. Six cylinders and the monster roars for life.

“I find that hard to believe, your honor.” He reverses out, watching both ways before turning onto the main roads. The bar lights flicker, the open sign dims out. Steve tuts a silent thank you and hopes to see another day.

“Just so you know, I didn’t show up for you. We weren’t even supposed to meet.” You state matter of factly. There’s some static emitting from the radio that switches off from time to time.

“Why, were you hoping to get picked up?”

You’re quiet. “No.” Is a weak statement. Steve looks at you with disappointment, coming up at a yellow light that turns red. “No!”

“I just— I couldn’t fathom drinking alone… being alone.” You sound small, resorting to the half truth that brought you to The Grotto in the first place.

“You do realize that comes in part with your existence.” Steve mentions.

You huff and you puff, folding your arms across your chest while trying to pose up like a child asking for cookies before dinner.

“Loneliness is insufferable, Stan. Wouldn’t you rather be freed from it?”

The drive is aimless at first until you finally guide Steve down the short backroads to your two storey walk up.

“It’d be an unconditional freedom.” He sighs, knowing the comfort of his own solitude which is not accustomed to you. “We’re born alone to die alone.”

“Wow… you have it all figured out there. That’s— fucking depressing as shit. But you know what, you look like a man who’s loved a whole lot. It doesn’t escape you, so don’t make this out for me because we both know what we’ve fallen into and climbed out of. It just so happens to be that mine is made for TV and it's been critically acclaimed at that.” You telltale.

“And what about mine?” Steve inquires. The one way street leads him up a slow slope that passes the better show homes and estates.

“I’ve yet to know but I won’t care to ask. You seem like you’ve healed from whatever it is...” You muse, legs curled up, bare feet on the seat to much of Steve’s approval. “So why bother?”

That keeps Cap quiet until you point down some lane that winds around the cul du sac. You finally gesture at the far corner lot and that’s when the car comes to a stop.

Steve goes to undo his belt and you alert him.

“It’s fine. I got this chief, not my first rodeo y’know.” You confide with an air of confidence. He sighs, letting you have it your way this one time among all the other instances. “Thanks bud. You were great.”

“I’ll be giving you a five star rating on the app. You’re with Uber or Lyft? Or was it…”

“Go home.” He says it the same way Matt’s heard it; droll and weary,

“You got it!” You quirk while stumbling out of the car.

The downright theatrics of it all has Steve succumbing with light, exhausted laughter. He's bemused by you and your constant outpour. “Thanks Sterling!”

“Anytime sweetheart.” He hums while biting down on his bottom lip and jutting his jaw out with continued amusement that eyes you completely.

Steve doesn’t miss your mash of limbs digging through your purse, looking for your keys only to push through the wrong key slot. You yell another profanity and that alerts a nearby yard dog, barking for your attention.

There’s a lot going on.

Steve’s had rough nights and rough encounters. Yours was a bit timely, human and close to special. He knows you’d be around. How soon? Maybe never. He’d have to copulate on the wishful thought before steering off for another night of self submission to himself.

#steve rogers series #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #chris evans angst #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers x reader

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stxleslyds · 3 years

Text

TASK FORCE Z #4

ZOMBIES, CLONES, BLOOM AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN.

Well, it took me a week but here we are. This was the most intricate and information-packed issue so far. It started out like any pf the others then it picked up its pace and then didn’t stop until the very end. Every page in this issue was a roller-coaster ride. Everyone has something going on, nobody is safe.

Jason, Two-Face, the Doctors, Waller, Bloom, all of them had something to reveal or to do that made things just a little bit more complicated for everyone involved. Even Batman is invited to this party!

Jason keeps getting harder to read (not in a bad sense), he has this contradicting thoughts because he is having a hard time figuring out what he truly feels/wants and it is starting to drive me crazy. He knows stuff but not enough of it, so he is half way there with everything that he knows and does.

Rosenberg really said “I am going to make this interesting but you will suffer every step pf the way”, like, sir, I adore your writing but if you don’t start giving me answers without two new questions and an existential crisis along with it, I will cry.

This book is something special, that’s for sure, and I am still amazed at how things are turning out, who would have said we would get this kind of content with Jason at the very centre of it?

Anyways, time to start dissecting this issue!

We start things right where we left of, Jason is in Crispin’s home, and Crispin’s identity is revealed, welcome to the party Two-Face!

Right off the bat we are “confirmed” some of the previous information that we were given in the past (if we were to believe everything that comes out of Two-Face’s mouth), Jason is not *necessarily* a prisoner of Project Halperin, but if he leaves the facilities, he becomes a wanted man.

According to TF (Two-Face), Project Halperin is legit and Jason is able to work with them because he made a deal with both the government and GCPD, so the Red Hood could continue to operate (under someone’s lead). It is also revealed that the time that Jason has as a *free man* is limited. Which means that TF has all the power in their dynamic, in a way TF owns Jason’s freedom and that is fucked up.

TF also says stuff like he doesn’t “gamble” anymore, so we are kinda lead to believe that Harvey is taking over, now because I don’t believe him, I will still call him Two-Face (gladly it seems that Jason isn’t buying whatever TF is trying to sell either).

Another thing that is sort of insinuated is that TF was sort of expecting Jason to escape HQ and come after him, which would mean that TF knew that his identity wouldn’t be secret for long OR he just accepted quickly that Jason was there and knew more than TF anticipated because to keep things *calm*, TF assured Jason that now that they were in that situation he would only like to talk with Jason because he just wants him to feel happy and comfortable in the team (and project).

Before we get to know more of what the hell TF has got going on, the scene changes and we are back at HQ with one of the Doctors and the corpse of Man-Bat.

Here is where shit starts to get wild. As the Doctor leaves Man-Bat alone, Mr. Bloom comes in and makes him swallow a green substance that at first seems to be Lazarus Resin.

Bloom has been shady and off for a while now, so him having access to a substance that can turn Man-Bat into his human form again doesn’t seem far-fetched. I mean the last time he was left alone he made Freeze swallow like a million Lazarus Resin pills while he was still alive…

Bloom seems to want something because just like he did with Freeze, he also asks Man-Bat for help, he gave him that substance for him to regain enough autonomy to remember that Bloom wants his help for something and just as Man-Bat turns human he becomes the monster once more. And THAT (along Bloom calling the substance a “concoction that he came up with”) makes me believe that it is not exactly Lazarus Resin what was just used.

Something that seems important to bring up is that before Man-Bat turned back to his monster self, Deadshot entered the room asking for Jason, to which Bloom had something extremely interesting to say.

“I believe he escaped. My guess is he’ll come back soon like nothing happened. Or Batman will arrive and assault all of us”

It is eery how correct he was, well, not “correct” per say, but he was very certain that 1) Jason scaped, 2) Jason would act like he didn’t escape and 3) Batman was involved in the situation or with Jason in any sort of way.

Bloom knows too damn much and he never shows us how! This dude is crazy creepy, and no one seems to care enough to just ask him what the hell is up with him! Gods, Rosenberg why do you have to be this way? Stop writing interesting characters all the time, I am used to bland stories when it comes to Jason, you will give me a heart attack!

Also, Bloom knows exactly what to tell to Man-Bat once he regains his human form as well as a little bit of his autonomy, he tells him that he is being experimented on like an animal in a lab and that he is actually dead. He drops that information bomb that leaves Man-Bat shocked and vulnerable, the perfect set of emotions to be when someone wants to manipulate you. How curious!

Once more, after that is shown to us (as well as Man-Bat going back to his monster form), we go back to Jason and TF.

Jason wants proof of Project Halperin and Task Force Z being a legitimate governmental secret mission or whatever, and to his surprise, he receives a document that seems to be real. But here is the catch, when Jason asks once more (just to make sure) that the Task Force Z is regulated under the “Federal Task Force Act” and TF slips (or doesn’t I don’t know) and says that it is legit… more or less.

“Less” being that they don’t actually work under the FTFA, they are auditioning for it, and they have yet to make a deal to get the job… This of course doesn’t sit well with Jason but TF goes on a rant about morals, and he had done that previously when Jason got tired (earlier in the issue) and electrocuted TF with his crowbar.

TF said things like “do you think I am tricking you into stopping dangerous criminals and getting chemical weapons off the street? How evil”, “you know we are doing good work” and that their “means might be questionable” but get the job done.

Because all that crap didn’t work before, this time TF chooses another route, this being the pity one. He tells Jason that he wants to help people and that his civic duty doesn’t come from a “need of parental acceptance or revenge”, which would put him in a superior moral level compared to Jason (I guess).

All I know is that TF is full of shit and him giving a class on morals is the most insane thing that has happened in this book so far and a lot of crazy shit has happened.

Jason still doesn’t buy this whole thing so TF tries to manipulate Jason by telling him that he wants to help people but that he is irredeemable and that no one would give him a second chance, so he needs this job to get people’s trust back. With all that Jason comes to the conclusion that TF is using him.

And TF, that lying liar, says that he didn’t NEED Jason, that he was just a name on a list and that he could have done all this without him (bullshit, he had said in other issues how much he needed Jason). Jason, the mad lad that he is, plays along and asks TF “why me then?” and here is where TF makes the biggest mistake, he responds “you needed this as much as I did”.

Man, TF really thought that he did something when he said that, didn’t he? What a dumbass! Jason didn’t believe a single word that came out of his mouth (bless him) but that last thing… come on now, imagine being anyone and having Two-Face of all people, trying to “help you”, go away Harvey, you are drunk!

TF is not that dumb thought because after he asks Jason if he will stay by his side and Jason says “we will see” as he leaves the room, Jason is ambushed by TF’s security team outside the door. Now, TF lets Jason go but he makes sure that his security team knows that if Jason doesn’t make it back to HQ the next day, he will withdraw the immunity claim over Jason.

Two-Face is Two-Face, nothing will ever change that, and no matter how many lies he comes up with this Jason will not believe him, because this Jason knows better and he also doesn’t believe in second chances for people like TF.

And that’s all Jason and Two-Face had to say to one another, but by no means was that the end of this adventure because next thing we know, Jason is meeting with Batman in a dark alley.

And there it is revealed that, seemingly, Batman was the one who gave Jason the intel about Crispin’s true identity. But he doesn’t only say that, by all that he says it is almost as if Batman had been involved in this whole subject from the beginning, he says “I sent you in to get information and you got it. You are done” and “I am pulling you out”.

Those things to me sound like Batman and Jason had been working for quite some time and Rosenberg just didn’t let us know! Sir, that’s illegal!

Jason cares about what Batman is saying as much as he cared for whatever TF had to say. Which is awesome to see because Jason is a force to be reckoned with, he really doesn’t let Bruce get away with it. He wants to finish this job by himself and he is also sure that there are things that are far from being solved and that both him and Batman don’t really know what is truly going on.

See? That’s Jason, he is competent and skilled but he also recognizes when he lacks information. This man wants to know what is going on and he wants to take care of it. This Jason doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty in order to finish the job in the best way possible. I am really glad that’s a thing again.

But (why must there be a but), Rosenberg continues the conversation between these two with some very weird lines. Jason says that he wants to do more than “beating up drug addicts and mentally ill people all night” and he questions “who are we helping”

Alright, not going to lie with the “beating up mentally ill people” Rosenberg kinda lost me, that’s a cheap move my dude, and you are better than that!

Jason then continues with “(I) want to believe helping the world can extend beyond Gotham’s alleys after dark” to which Batman says “and Task Force Z is the answer? I taught you better than that” “you don’t get a choice in who needs your help”, if you thought that Rosenberg’s Jason will not stand his ground you would be wrong because Jason goes for the jugular, he responds “the only thing you taught me is that I don’t get a choice in anything. And it sure seems to bother you that I found out that wasn’t true”.

Holy shit! Oh my Gods! Are you guys as proud as me? Look at Chonky, look at him go! He really said no one is walking over me today! He didn’t let anyone manipulate him or twist his ideas… Lobdell and Tynion could simply never.

Jason even leaves the conversation at that; he is smart enough to know that they won’t see eye to eye and that there is no reason for him to follow Bruce’s rules or for Bruce to force his rules on him. It was truly iconic!

With that done, Rosenberg wastes no time and puts us back in HQ with Two-Face, one of the doctors and the news that they have a big problem. TF, that little shit, was truly shaken by Jason because for a second, he believes Jason is the cause of the “big trouble”, but no such luck… Looking down at him is no other than Amanda Waller and she has some things to say.

Can you believe this? Rosenberg is throwing everything our way, and that includes a clone mention! He called one of the doctors a “clone girl”: Didn’t I say clones! Didn’t I? What is with Marvel writers and clones? I am a Gwen Stacy stan, I don’t like clones! Why are they everywhere? It had to be clones… I am not safe!

Anyway, sorry for the outburst but the clone subject is… complicated for me, but I will power through it, this book is worth it!

Now, back to Waller and Two-Face, these two are shady as all hell, like, they really leave Bloom in the dust. And not only that but these two really have the guts to have a conversation about morals and work ethic? Wowie, that’s impressive. The two people that I will never think will question morals are doing that. It is a mad world.

Waller seems to be one of TF’s superiors and it also seems that TF and the Task Force Z’s audition is over, another team has been chosen for the job. And that’s not all, TF was using (and twisting) a team idea from Waller. That fact was the drop that filled the glass for Waller, she had officially had enough of TF’s “little science experiment”.

She shuts down Project Halperin completely, saying that she would have their HQ dismantled in the morning and that TF’s “assets” would belong to her now, meaning Jason and the others (the corpses, she calls them).

Just like that we change scenes and although TF and Project Halperin just got shut down, the team has been deployed for another mission under TF’s command. The mission is to find the production facility (of Lazarus Resin) with Man-Bat’s enhanced olfactory sense. Jason being the smart cookie that he is questions if Man-Bat wont just find their very own HQ, TF seems mostly sure that won’t happen.

Now, before we move on, I would like to bring up the fact that Bloom was right about Jason. He did comeback and act like nothing happened, and while Batman didn’t appear and assaulted them, he sure made an appearance that connected him to Jason and Two-Face… just some food for thought.

Back to what’s actually happening in the issue, Jason and the team discover something that they didn’t expect. A laboratory that looks exactly like theirs, when they get a glimpse at who works there, new questions arise. A scientist and several zombies with weapons are right in front of them.

Jason decides not to jump into a fight and because of that the scientist gives him (and us) some really interesting information. He says “you captured Bloom? This is amazing. Thank you for bringing hm back to us” and “Dr. Shelley is going to be so happy…”

That’s all he gets to say because Bloom kills him but he had already gotten Jason’s full attention. Jason didn’t trust Bloom from the start but now he had a reason not to.

Jason questions Bloom’s actions and why the man said that Bloom had been “brought back”. Bloom evades all these questions but before Jason can confront him a familiar face makes an appearance.

Dr, Shelley (not Amelia or Celia) seems to be the owner of the laboratory they are in and she claims that Amelia and Celia were her sisters but they passed away.

She doesn’t let Jason say much and promptly puts him and the others “under arrest” because she actually works under the “Federal Jurisdiction for Extranormal Materials”. And while she is at it she also accuses Jason of stealing her shipments all over the city.

If you thought that would be enough twists and turns you would be wrong because Rosenberg wasn’t playing around in this issue and all the sudden, we have a mysterious voice saying “we are in position” and “there is another team here”.

So, that’s how we find out that there is another team of weirdos in town and they seem to be under Waller’s command, which would make them Task Force X, and they were just given the command to kill everyone in the laboratory.

And that’s where this madness ends. Not for the faint of heart really.

I have to say this (even though I have said it several times already) but Rosenberg is truly a blessing for Jason, this book is interesting and complex, the characters are layered and he gives us small doses of everything. Each issue, so far, has revealed important stuff about different characters but he still keeps secrets which makes this book way more engaging.

This Jason is not messing around, he is a treat for me, I enjoy this Jason that is competent but also takes time to think. And I also loved the fact that even though Batman appeared all the attention was still on Jason. Jason is this book’s main character and he knows better than Batman. If Jason had been reporting to Batman that’s one thing but Batman doesn’t get to decide what Jason does or doesn’t anymore.

Jason wants this case to be closed on his terms and by his hand.

And I am truly happy with that.

Oh! Before I am done, I had a minor freak out on twitter over Amelia and Celia and them being possible clones or, dare I say, zombie clones, and Rosenberg had the audacity of liking my tweets but not making any comments about my concerns, so take that as you will.

Let me know what you guys thought of this issue and this review or whatever this is called!

#jason todd #red hood #task force z #dc comics

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