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monstertreden · 21 days ago

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✦ BE(E) MY DATE? ✦

-Reader: FEM reader -TW: none, just an adorable bee -Character: Bumblebee (Transformers movie 2018) -Summary: Bumblebee is trying to get accustomed to earth traditions in order to impress his favourite human -Word count : 1448 A/N: This was an anonymous request of a while back. I went with the Fem Pov, but this could be read with a GN reader too. What a way to open this 2025! Wish you all the best things in the world!🍀

The evening sky was starting to feel more alive as stars emerged one by one. With no light pollution ruining this view, the atmosphere felt so relaxing, a quiet peak for living in such a peaceful town. Your home garden was glowing, illuminated by tiny star-shaped lights strung around the tree branches. In the middle of it all stood a cheerful, giant yellow bot. He fumbled with his radio, playing different romantic songs as he tried to find justtt the right one to set the perfect mood. Bumblebee was buzzing with excitement, unable to wait another hour until you got home from your job and spend the rest of the night with him outdoors. Today had been a little different. It had been hours since you’d left for work and you’d insisted on taking the bus to work, much to Bumblebee’s dismay. He’d watched you wave goodbye as he beeped sadly…but once you were out of sight, his little antennas perked up and twitched like bunny ears: if he couldn’t spend all day with you then he would make that night unforgettable! The thought had driven him all afternoon as he kept carefully arranging what he had gathered, it had to be perfect because you deserve nothing less!

A jazzy love song hummed through his speakers before he quickly cut it off again, second-guessing his choice, followed by an upsetting beep.

Postponing his final decision on the special song, Bumblebee turned his attention to the messy setup he had previously sprawled on the flower-patched blanket… one he might have “borrowed” from her bedroom through the window…ops, but it was one of his favorite too, one you often shared with him while watching some movies back in the garage, other than being soft, it fitted the romantic vibe he was striving for. Smothering the blanket again, having spotted a small wrinkle, his digits fidgeted slightly with the patch of wildflowers he had directly plucked from the ground earlier, ensuring they looked intentional rather than, well… stolen. Were there enough flowers? Or were they too many? He tilted his helm as if reconsidering his choice, before turning to the unplugged microwave, that somehow contained various cookies inside and the carefully inclined projector screen propped up against the white wall of your home. The screen’s angle had been adjusted multiple times until he was satisfied, though he still glanced at it every few moments to make sure it hadn’t shifted.

It had taken him ages to figure out how humans got their movie setups just right, and, even now, he still wasn’t sure he had nailed it. Beside it, a wicker basket was overfilled with treats he’d seen you enjoy: chips, candies, and a variety of drinks, so many you wouldn’t go hungry... though he had no idea what half of them tasted like...Would you notice the missing bags of sour candies? He might’ve… tested one or two. For science. Did you have that many treats in your kitchen cabinets though? Of course not, the truth was that some, well, most of the items inside weren’t “exactly” yours. The yellow bot had borrowed, again, okay, maybe taken a few things from the local store storage without paying, but only because he still didn’t understand how human transactions worked. Plus, wasn’t food meant to be shared? You loved snacks! And he wanted the best ones for you!

“Cool and smooth!”. He echoed the phrase to himself, with the enthusiasm of a DJ who knew what they were doing. Excitement and anxiousness coursed through his circuits, he had seen countless Earth movies and TV series with you, how your face lit up when romantic picnics were on-screen. “Aren’t they adorable, Bee?” you’d sighed, smiling softly at a scene where a couple sat under the stars, and he was determined to give her exactly that.

The wildflowers kept sprawling all over each time Bumblebee tried to grab one, he didn’t bring a vase since he was scared of accidentally breaking one, so he decided with clumsy digits to open a soda can, yes..maybe that would do.. “Careful...” Tipping the can towards his faceplate, he fussed over not being able to open it. Shaking it, hoping it would loosen, and when it seemed he had made it, it sprayed all over his faceplate, making him stumble over with a distressed beep. A wrong footing and there was a loud crunch. Bumblebee froze. Slowly looking down, he realized his foot had landed squarely on a package of cookies, reducing them to crumbs. “Dang it!” he buzzed through the radio, frustration laced with nervousness. He frantically crouched and scooped up the squished wrapper, already berating himself.

But Bumblebee wasn’t one to back down so easily. He straightened up, the crumpled pack of cookies still in his hand. Carefully, the bit tucked it back into the end of the basket, there were so many after all. Next, he picked up the empty soda can and went to toss it in the garbage bin, only for his gaze to land on a small empty glass jar you’d had left for recycling. That was perfect! It was risky managing glass, but it was his only choice. After arranging the wildflowers in the jar, he stepped back to admire his work. The bright blooms stood proudly in their makeshift vase; A triumphant beep escaped his radio.

However, waiting for you to get home from your job was the worst part. Bee leaned on the side of the blanket staring at the darkening sky, his pedes shifting restlessly against the ground as his optics traced the constellations beginning to shine above.

ᯓ★

The distant hum of the bus made Bumblebee buzz with anticipation as he scrambled quickly to double-check the lights and blanket one last time, his excitement nearly spilled over. Tonight was truly special, and he couldn’t wait to spend it with you, just the two of you, under the stars.

When you reached the garden, Bumblebee greeted you enthusiastically, using a series of radio clips to invite you, his favourite human, to sit down. “Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder” played softly from his speakers as he immediately handled the microwave, shaking its contents inside, beeping excitedly for you to open it.

A mixture of surprise painted your face “Aww Bee” You gently lowered down his servos so he couldn’t accidentally destroy your microwave and reached for him instead, your hands lightly cradling his side faceplate. His optics blinked rapidly in surprise, and his helm tilted curiously to the side as if trying to process your gesture. “This is..nice, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Thank you” For a moment, Bumblebee froze, his circuits whirring as if he’d been short-circuited by your words. His servos twitched at his sides, unsure whether to move or stay still. His radio crackled before settling on a slightly awkward but heartfelt clip. “You’re welcome my darling!!” Bumblebee immediately winced at his choice, but you only chuckled.

Your hands slipped away, and he missed the warmth almost instantly. You took a step back to take in everything he’d prepared, from the spread blanket, the slightly crumpled flowers, and the crookedly angled projector screen. You took a mental note to maybe teach him not to pluck bunches of flowers from your garden next time

“You went through all this… for me?” you asked, to which Bumblebee gave a small nod, his frame shifting nervously. His radio played hesitantly, “-It’s no big deal-” but the way he was fidgeting said otherwise.

“No,no ! it’s a huge deal,” Your smile grew as you crouched to fix the corner of the blanket. “Heck! You even got my favorite snacks.Look!” Maybe it was best not to ask him where the hell he took all of these goods, eyes lighting up when you spotted the assortment. “Bee, this is amazing. Seriously! After an exhausting day, this is all I need”

He melted at her reaction and his optics softened. Gathering his courage, he turned on the projector with a flick of his servo. Soon, the screen lit up, casting a warm glow against the wall.

He beeped as if to ask “Shall we?”

Your grin widened. “We shall.”

Once you finally settled onto the blanket, patting the spot beside you Bumblebee carefully maneuvered himself, trying to sit without squishing anything else. He adjusted his position until he was beside you, his large frame curling slightly to fit in the cozy space. As the movie began to play, you leaned against him, resting your head against his cool plating. He was happy to start the first days of the new year with you like this.

“Next time, we’ll organize a date together”

#a cutie patootie #transformers #transformers bumblebee #bumblebee movie #bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee 2018 #transformers x reader #transformers x human

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darlingi-loveyou · 4 months ago

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things that definitely happened in the percy jackson series’ that rick left out/didn’t expand on (basically a collection of headcanons)

- leo teased percy and annabeth about the stables scene for weeks until it got old

- leo trying to make a move on EVERYONE he interacted with, especially the aphrodite cabin

- (leo was a hey mamas lesbian in a past life i will die on this hill)

- bi4bi percabeth

- some of the apollo kids give out free stick-n-poke tattoos. will has a small treble clef on his hip for his mom, nico has a tiny skull behind his left ear, percy has a smiley face on his right middle finger bc he thought it was funny

- annabeth tried to act like she didn’t think it was funny and called him an idiot

- ella also gives out free tattoo services at camp jupiter, and camp half blood when she and tyson visit. frank told her to start charging for them, but being a harpy, she doesn’t really have a need for money. honestly, she just wants an excuse to do more tattoos, since there’s not a lot of space left on tyson

- percy always orders blue food or drinks when he’s out if it’s an option (basically canon in the senior year adventures). at this point it’s instinctual

- percy refuses to drink or smoke bc of gabe. sally understands this and that’s why, before she had estelle, she would only have a single glass of wine with dinner. annabeth likes to have a few drinks here and there, but when she does drink, she makes sure to never do it in front of percy

- dionysus is essentially the camp therapist, because deep down, he really does care about the campers. he has open office hours and a sign-up sheet for appointments (private or group therapy) in the big house

- percy has started calling dionysus the wrong name back, and it’s dissolved into a competition to see who can think of the most ridiculous names (so far perceval jackoff and destiny’s child are tied for first place). some of the other campers are waiting for the day dionysus turns percy into a bottlenose dolphin or a pile of dust and ashes, but he would never do it

- there’s also a sign-up sheet to use that single computer that chiron has, where everyone gets up to an hour of screen time

- after discovering the projector in chiron’s office, it’s common to find cabins or individual groups of campers having movie nights. nico and hazel’s boyfriends and friends use this as an opportunity to show them (when hazel visits) different movies. for example, one night percy brings all 3 back to the future movies (he doesn’t realize the irony until nico won’t stop teasing him about it), annabeth brings the last unicorn, which makes hazel cry (me too girl), piper brings jennifer’s body (hazel and frank both get all flustered during the sex scenes, nico is surprisingly unbothered until will nudges him and makes a comment about colin when he appears onscreen), reyna, on the rare occasions that the hunters visit, brings isle of dogs (she hasn’t watched a lot of movies, but that one is one of her favorites), frank brings the little prince, which makes percy openly sob, and will brings heathers, to nico’s surprise

- some camp traditions include telling ghost stories at the campfire, karaoke nights in the apollo cabin (they tried to hold one in the big house once, but that only lasted about ten minutes before dionysus kicked them out), secret santas, halloween parties, and thanksgiving at the jackson-blofis house for the year-round campers (and percy, annabeth, tyson, and ella, ofc)

- piper likes to walk around doing chappell roan’s vocal flips and reneé rapp’s riffs

- will is actually a pretty good singer, but he doesn’t think he is bc his powers are more focused on his role as a camp medic, so he compares himself to his siblings. he can also play guitar really well, but his favorite thing is playing it horribly and as loud as possible, or playing at nico because he knows he hates it

- will and annabeth both struggle with imposter syndrome, percy starts talking to dionysus about his ptsd, nico is working on breaking his disordered eating habits, and tyson makes ella a fidget that she can play with so she doesn’t pull out her feathers

- piper and leo like to reference modern pop culture in front of chiron, who is eternally confused and has stopped trying to understand “the youth”

- annabeth is a swiftie (her favorite album is ttpd) and percy says he isn’t, but sally sometimes catches him singing “safe & sound” or “never grow up” to estelle (he has no idea she knows) and sends videos of it to annabeth. he can’t sing very well, don’t get me wrong, and it’s almost always off-key, but estelle doesn’t seem to mind

- percy does that thing that dads do where he stands at the edge of the room when estelle is watching one of her shows with sally and pretends he isn’t watching it, but eventually ends up sitting with them on the couch and singing (again, very poorly) along to the bluey theme song

- will isn’t actually a morning person, but as the camp medic, he’s just used to getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and running on three hours of sleep and multiple celsiuses (this is why, on “making-nico-and-hazel-watch-movies-we-think-are-important-movie-nights,” he never even makes it through the first one without crashing out)

- apollo did in fact develop a little crush on nico during the tower of nero, but for his son’s sake, he’ll take that secret to his grave (metaphorically ofc)

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selkies-world · 1 year ago

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Language resources

(Duolingo alternatives)

For those who no longer use or trust Duolingo, I've put together a list of resources - apps, learning methods, programmes, etc - with a list of whether or not they are free, and my personal experience with their success at teaching a language. I have also included new ones that I haven't tried yet but which I have researched; for these, I have included a rating of how much hope I have for them panning out in the future.

[I grew up bilingual & went to a multicultural school that had a student body consisting of children from refugee families who spoke little to no English. The school prioritised teaching the entire student body the minority languages, and finding a bridge language we could all learn together to fill in any gaps in communication. Due to this, I spent the last 4 years of primary school learning new languages with the rest of the student body.

We would have a school-wide lesson for 1 hour once a week - usually with a child or staff member fluent in that language leading the lesson at the front of the gym with a microphone so we could hear the correct pronunciation in time with reading the native spelling & English phonetics on the projector screen at the front of the hall. We were expected to use this language in the corridors when we spoke with teachers or staff members and when we passed by other students regardless of what their or our native languages were. As far as fluency went, we were expected to be able to recognise and say greetings and goodbyes, enquire to each others well-being, know how to ask for assistance, how to ask for medical help for various things, how to ask where the bathroom was, to give and receive directions around the entire school, as well as colours, names of things found around the school, make small talk about our activities of the day and our family, and why we were out of class - all with relative ease & mutual understanding.

We changed language after every break, so it was roughly 8 hours of lessons in each language, before we would start again with a new one.

Alongside this, the older students in the school (final 3 years, aged 9 - 11/12) would learn French 3+ hours a week for those 3 years so their writing, reading and speaking standards were acceptable for the beginning of high school. In 1 of these years, we also studied both of our native languages for the first time, for 6 weeks each.

I left traditional schooling at 11, and while I was home-schooled I taught myself Italian, Russian, and Latin from scratch, along with relearning my preferred native language, and 2 forms of sign - I used Makaton as a young child and in school as I have a form of mutism, but as a teen I realised I associated this language with the severe trauma I experienced at school, and so suffered from flashbacks and dissociative episodes when I used it. This, along with medical concerns, led to me learning BSL, and then SSE. Today, I use a combination of English, SSE and my native language in everyday settings. I have a mental block for learning French due to it being heavily associated with my trauma.

I am saying all this not for sympathy, but so that you can see firstly how much I enjoy and value learning languages, and in order to show my experience levels with learning languages. I've used, tried, and tested all of the learning methods I will be talking about in this post. I have either used or done a lot of research into the apps and programmes discussed in this post.

And yes, I have prioritised ones that teach endangered languages, indigenous languages and languages that aren't often included in language media such as Hebrew, various forms of Arabic, Navajo, Gaelic, and others. I have also included ones that teach and / or document sign languages and sign communication systems.]

Please note that the following lists are arranged in no particular order. They are not ranked best to worst or by any other X to Y ratio. They are simply ranked according to how I remembered, tested, or found each of them.

Apps

1: Fluyo.

Rating for hope / faith: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆

Effectiveness: n/a

Cost: unknown

Status: not yet publicly available

Please note that while Fluyo is not yet available, its Kickstarter page is flourishing, its app is in development, and the developer is a man of colour who has continued to devote himself to this app and its development despite rising health concerns, developing a life-changing disabling condition, and numerous set-backs. His YouTube channel is very educational, and he has also written a book on language-learning. If you would like to know more, you can learn about him here. Fluyo is set up like a computer game with multiple cute characters who are interactive rather than stationary, and I genuinely have high hopes for it once it is released.

2: Babble

Personal experience: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free trial for the first lesson, but a paid subscription is required for any further lessons

Status: available to download

3: Language Drops

Personal experience: ☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆

Cost: free for some lessons, but a paid account is required for access to all lessons

Status: available to download

4: Fluent forever

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: free access to basic lessons to build your confidence with the language, but a paid subscription is required for unlimited access

Status: available to download

5: Lingopie

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: free trial for 7 days, but a paid subscription is required after that for continued use of the app

Status: available to download

6: Fluenday

Hope for: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free

Status: available to download

7: Language flower

Hope for: ☆

Languages available: ☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆

Cost: free, as far as I can tell

Status: available to download

8: Sign BSL / Daniel Mitchell

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free

Status: available to download

Please note that Daniel Mitchel offers a BSL version of this, along with an ASL version.

9: Bright BSL / sign lab

Personal experience: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness:☆☆☆☆

Cost: free for some lessons + premium for all other lessons

Status: available to download

Please note that Sign Lab offers this app for the following sign languages: BSL (Bright BSL), ASL (ASL Bloom), LSF (Pause LSF / Langue des Signes, yoDGS, Libras (LibrasLab), Italian Sign Language (MeLISegno), and Toleio: Norsk Tegnspråk.

10: BSL zone

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free

Status: available to download

11: Reverso context

Personal experience: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free

Status: available to download

This is less for learning a language, more for quick reference / fact-checking a translation.

12: Pimsleur

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free 7 day trial, but a paid subscription is required for continued use

Status: available to download

13: Memrise

Personal experience: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free for introductory levels, with a premium option to unlock majority of lessons

Status: available to download

14: Busluu

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: Free, with a premium option to download lessons, more repetition, and extra lessons

Status: available to download

15: Hello Talk

Hope for: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆

Cost: free

Status: available to download

16: Rosetta Stone

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: monthly subscription is required

Status: available to download

17: Lingo Deer

Personal experience: ☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free, with a premium option for all lessons beyond Basics 1

Status: available to download

18: Beelinguapp

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: free trial, but a subscription is required for total access

Status: available to download

19: Lingvist

Personal experience: ☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆ (though it does have an option to suggest other languages for them to add, and which language you would like to learn from, and they'll email you when / if that language becomes available)

Effectiveness: unknown

Cost: free

Status: available to download

[Please note this one is not photosensitive friendly or seizure friendly. I had to close the app as soon as I opened it due to the design on their opening page, and even when I reopened it and clicked straight through, their colour scheme was still upsetting to my senses.]

20: Lingvano

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free for a few lessons, but for access to all lessons, a paid subscription is required

Status: available to download

21: Duocards

Personal experience: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free, but a more advanced version is available for premium accounts

Status: available to download

22: Chatterbug

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free with limited access, but a paid version is available

Status: available to download

23: Mango languages learning

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free trial, with a premium account required for further access

Status: available to download

24: EdX

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost:

Status: available to download

Please note that EdX is an app which houses courses on multiple subjects, not specifically a language-learning app.

25: Mondly Languages

Personal experience: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆

Cost: free, though it does repeatedly offer you a subscription account for an experience catered to you and your interests

Status: available to download

Please note this one may be triggering to those who are photosensitive or whose senses are upset by rapid moving gifs. There is a crown in the top right-hand corner which vibrates very quickly.

26: Speakly

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free trial, with a subscription account required for further use

Status: available to download

27: Pocket sign

Hope for: ☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free, as far as I can tell

Status: available to download

28: Lingo legend language learning

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free, though I think there may be a premium option either available but unmentioned, or in the works

Status: available to download

Please note that this app offers you the chance to vote for which languages should be added to its interface, so they can prioritise which ones to fund.

29: INC sign language app

Hope for: ☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free

Status: available to download

For those with religious trauma, please note that INC stands for Iglesia Ni Cristo, and the INC Sign Language App "is a project of the Christian Society for the Deaf under the Christian Family Organizations Office of the Iglesia Ni Cristo (Church Of Christ)". While it does not appear to prioritise religious content, the content does feature people dressed in suits as if for attending a church sermon.

30: My signing time

Hope for: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: 14 day free trial, and a subscription is required after this point

Status: available to download

Please note that this one is aimed at babies / toddlers & families.

32: Falou

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free, with a premium option if you want to learn more than 1 language & unlock additional courses in your chosen language

Status: available to download

33: Earworms

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: free for the demo, then after that, the lessons are broken into two "volumes" to buy individually, or 1 bonus-pack which contains both to buy once at a slightly reduced cost.

Status: available to download

Please note that Earworms used to be available as CD lessons, which is when I first used them. The CDs were in Volumes and were more expensive than all costs on this app. I used them 10 years ago and still remember what I learned despite not getting to use the language very often, so I can guarantee their method is very effective.

34: Qlango

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: free, with a premium option for the final 3 levels

Status: available to download

Please note that this one is laid out more like a semi-immersive lesson plan rather than a game. However, it is currently my favourite one.

Other resources

1: Signing hands (YouTube)

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆

Cost: free

Status: available to watch

2: Military style

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆☆

Cost: n/a

Status: available to begin for free, though it will be difficult for you to find an environment that allows you to experience this authentically. If you would like to learn more about what the military style is, I will speak about it further below.

3: Textbooks / Reading materials

Personal experience: ☆☆☆☆

Languages available: ☆☆☆☆☆

Effectiveness: ☆☆☆☆

Cost: free, or otherwise up to you (what you are willing / able to spend on it)

Status: available to start whenever you feel like it

You can find numerous language-learning resources listed at the end of this post. I also recommend buying an up-to-date dictionary and thesaurus in your chosen language, and studying it. Study the grammar noted in the front, and then actually read the dictionary. It will seem strange, but it will benefit you in the long-run. Make notes as you go, highlight and colour some things in as you see fit.

Learning methods

1: Immersion

Over and over again, we are told that immersion is the best, most effective way to learn a language. This is because this is how we often think children learn languages - and we're partly right about that.

Immersion is the process of immersing yourself in the chosen language, with one single choice: learn the language, or suffer.

If our brains have to choose between struggling to pronounce a few words while gesturing to something we want and clinging onto sounds we hear like trying to hold onto a wet otter, or not getting what we want, we're going to choose to sound & look like an idiot, pointing and saying basic sounds, even if trying to remember the reply is like trying to remember Pi.

With enough time, though, we pick the language up remarkably well when we have no choice but to pick it up. This is the method which has us mimicking accents and gestures and expressions in order to best gain what we want: to express ourselves, our needs and our desires.

However, immersion is often critiqued because unless you have the means to fly to the country that speaks your desired language and live there with 0 influence from your native language for 6+ months... Well, you're not fully immersed, are you? Language apps try to give you an immersive experience, but you can always put your phone down. Depending on where you were educated, you may have had an immersive language class, where you had to learn the language or not be able to join in and so failed by default.

Good ways to mimic immersion are: finding radio channels in your chosen language and watching TV shows in your chosen language without subtitles, and listening to music in your chosen language.

2: Flashcards

Flashcards often tend to be a popular way to test your memory and retention of a particular subject. However, using them to begin learning a language can lead to a loss of motivation.

If you are creating the flashcards yourself, I would recommend creating them in 2 sets: 1 which is the traditional flashcard (your first language OR a picture on one side, and the translation on the other side), and 1 which has twice as many, with only 1 side being used. This second set should be designed like playing cards - the word or picture on one side, and a plain back.

This second set can be used when you're wanting to boost your motivation or confidence - arrange the cards face down, and begin playing the children's game of Pairs. Another option would be Snap.

When you return to using the traditional flashcards, you'll have a better foundation to build on if you've taught yourself to see these as fun, and taught your brain to associate these cards with quickfire responses - such as are brought to the surface during childrens' cards games.

3: Stickers

This is a method which seems obvious once it's pointed out, but seems confusing if you've never done it before.

Simply put, using stickers is when you create or buy stickers with the translation of everyday objects, words and phrases in your chosen language, and put them up around your house. "Door" goes on the door. "Cupboard" goes on the outside of a cupboard, "bread" goes on the inside. "Fridge" goes on the fridge door. "Milk" goes behind the milk so you see it every time you pick the milk up. "Lightswitch" goes above / under the lightswitch. Etc etc etc.

This is a memory retention technique used for multiple scenarios. Nurseries and schools may sometimes have the Makaton sign for something shown in a large diagram stuck to the walls / surfaces. Carehomes may have the names & purposes of objects stuck to the surfaces / objects in the dominant language, for the residents with memory issues or communication barriers.

While this is a good technique for quickfire memory boosts, it can be a slow way to learn a language from scraps, and is better suited for when you are semi-familiar with the written form of the language you are learning. It is also a good way to get everyone involved, as everyone in the home will be interacting with the stickers.

4: Forced conversation

This one is controversial, but can be very effective if it is approached with an open mind, clear communication and previously-agreed upon rules and lines.

The method of forced conversation is exactly what it sounds like: it is when you are engaged in a conversation in your target language, in which the person whom you are conversing with refuses to speak your original language. However, no matter how poor your language skills are, or how uncomfortable you get, they do not stop the conversation, and you do not let to leave the situation until they are satisfied you have communicated well enough, and have understood them. This will usually be "proven" by them giving you instructions, asking a specific question, or requesting you do something for them - if you follow the action through, you have understood them, if you try to give a vague answer and do not do the task, you have not understood them, and the interaction is forced to continue. Again.

This method is controversial because it is not immediately inclusive or welcoming for those who are shy, have anxiety, any form of Mutism, or who have a neurodiversiry or learning disability which impacts their communication. In formal situations, it is often these people who fall behind or get put off from learning a language if forced conversations are the only method they have the option of.

However, if there are adaptions made and accommodation previously discussed and provided, this can still be a viable method which is inclusive to all.

If the person speaking your target language is previously informed of your communication issues or complications, and are instructed in how to accommodate you (ie: Do they need to point at something, or use picture cards as prompts? Do you prefer using picture cards? Do you get distracted if they use hand gestures? Do you need fidget toys provided? Will it be easier for you if you are not forced to maintain eye contact? Will it be better for you if one or both of you are moving around rather than sitting down directly across from each other? Do the lights need to be altered in your environment to make the sensory experience less overwhelming? Do you use noise cancelling headphones? Do you focus better if there is music on in the background? Are there certain tones of voice or volume levels that need to be avoided? Does constantly changing body language stress you out? Do you have a stutter or speech impediment that may impact your pronunciation? Etc.)

Accomodaring these issues, and coming up with a signal to take a break (ie, if you have issues telling the difference between "I am angry at you personally" and "I am tired today" in vocal tones and facial expressions, will you get upset if you think the person is angry at you for not knowing their language? If so, do you need a signal to take a break so you can clearly communicate your stress, and they can give you an answer in your original language and clarify anything which is upsetting or confusing you, before continuing the conversation in your target language?) or to speak in simpler terms? Is their one subject you can talk about particularly well (a hyperfixation) which they can use in the conversation to help you engage?

All of these accommodations may seem intimidating, but if all those involved are aware of these accommodations going into the conversation, it can make the interaction much more positive and productive.

Forced conversation uses the same logic as immersion: if your brain has to choose between looking / sounding like an idiot who stumbles over words, or a very uncomfortable situation which lasts longer each time you make a mistake, your brain will choose to look like an idiot in order to achieve what it wants.

5: Repetition

Repetition is a very common method of learning a language, though it is often criticised for being ineffective.

It is when a phrase or word is said by one party, and repeated by another. If the second party does not pronounce it correctly, the first party repeats it again. This continues until the second party gets it correct. Then the pattern is repeated with another phrase / word. Once a certain number of words have been said correctly by the second party, the first party will return to the start and repeat the process again, with the second party having to say the phrases / words correctly multiple times before being able to move onto the next. The entire process continues in this loop until the second party is saying things correctly with ease.

This method is part of what makes up both immersion, flashcards and military style methods for language learning. It can also be used with textbook learning.

However, it is often critiqued because once the second party is away from the first party and left to their own devices, their confidence in their previous pronunciation will falter, and when they return to the lesson or need to use the language again, they'll be at a lower level of achievement than they were when they left. It is also very tedious, and can become boring.

6: Music

When I spoke about immersion, I briefly mentioned music. I also said that we assume children learn language via immersion. However, as adults we often overlook something else which plays a crucial role in teaching children language: music.

Children learn language, rhythm, speech patterns, and turn-of-phrase via songs, rhymes, riddles, fables, tongue-twisters, and music.

This is why it can be priceless to learn songs in your chosen language. Lullabies. Nursery rhymes. Children's songs. Pop songs that are ridiculed as being too simple or written without talent. Theme tunes from children's shows. Traditional rhymes and tongue-twisters. Most of these can be found via a long time on YouTube.

Music works in a unique way, worming its way into our minds. Our brains are hardwired to recognise and remember patterns - and music is made up of patterns. This is why we get songs stuck in our heads for no reason. Being able to use this to your advantage to learn or remember a new language can be an amazing experience.

7: Subtitles and language swap

This is a method which can be useful when you are learning more than one language, but are more familiar with one than the other.

It is where you watch / listen to a certain media in 1 language, while reading the subtitles / lyrics in another language. This way, the language you are more familiar with / fluent in will fill the gaps of understanding the less familiar one.

You can then challenge yourself by removing one language (muting the media & only reading the subtitles, or removing the subtitles and only listening to the provided audio) and seeing how well you follow along / understand.

This can also be used with your target language and your original language.

8: Writing it down

This is another form of repetitive learning which can be useful when studying / retaining for an exam, but can also be useful when you are first learning the written-to-verbal patterns of a language.

One method is longterm recall: this is where you write down short notes, words & phrases in your target language 1+ hour after engaging with your learning resources. This tests how much you retained. It is a physical show of how much you have actually learned.

Another method is short term recall & build-up: this is where you choose a single word / phrase, and write it as lines (Ducks are green and brown. Ducks are green and brown. Ducks are green and brown. Ducks are-) until your page is full. Then go back to the start and write over the top of your own writing, staying as close to your original marks as possible. Repeating this pattern multiple times until your page rips or the words become close to unreadable tricks your brain into focusing morenon your handwriting than on the language - as such, you will start to see the phrase / word as a pattern to follow, and it is then left to your subconscious mind to retain it while your conscious mind prioritises hand-eye coordination and fine motor skills.

9: Textbook

If you're more academically inclined, you may prefer a textbook method of study. This is the style used in most night classes and / or some traditional education classes.

Textbook methods have everything arranged by date and time, and learning goals are broken down & laid out according to a set calender: by x, you will have learned this amount, by y, you will have learned this amount, so on so forty until the final set date when you will be "fluent" or a certain level of reasonably fluent.

Most of the time with this method, you will be following guidelines, activities and lesson plans previously arranged in a chosen textbook, and that textbook will be your sole or primary resource.

10: Bilingual books (page by page)

Using page-by-page bilingual books can be confusing and is often overlooked in regards to adult education - however, it can be somewhat interesting to try.

On one page, the text will be written in your original language - on the opposite page, the same text will be repeated in your target language. Seeing the two side-by-side allows you to read your target language and instantly refer back to your original language if you get stuck on a word or phrase.

There is another form of bilingual books often given to children: line-by-line. These feature the image / picture, with the original text written clearly and simply, usually no more than 1 or 2 sentences per page. Directly underneath them will be the translated text written in a different font.

11: Same story / movie, different language

While this can be a fun method, it isn't always the most beneficial if you're looking for accuracy - however, it can be useful if you're wanting to test yourself.

It uses a similar logic to the subtitles & language swap method: you put on a movie you are familiar with, but you put it on in your target language with 0 subtitles. This allows you to engage with the language while using the familiar movie / story as a bridge.

12: Military Style

This is perhaps the most effective technique to use of you have a set amount of time to reach a specified level of understanding / fluency in a language. However, it is also one of the most difficult to fully replicate yourself.

Military style is a form of forced immersion combined with forced conversation and repetitive loops, but with reward and punishment techniques to make you prioritise learning the language over your own comfort zone / personal boundaries.

An example of this style would be party 1 having party 2 engage in forced conversation in front of an audience, then having them repeat a phrase they got wrong over and over until they get it right - all in front of the audience, with a rule set which forbids party 2 from sitting down or disengaging the interaction until they have finished the task. Nobody in the audience is allowed to help party 2. Party 1 continues to push party 2 outside of their comfort zone by having them continue the conversation, repeating any mistakes until they are corrected, and the conversation does not end until it is completed.

After that, party 2 has to do 100 push-ups while repeating the phrase they got wrong the most - and they have to pronounce it correctly while doing the push-ups. Any mistakes, and they go back to 1, regardless of if they were at 7 or 98.

This combined punishment of mild public humiliation and physically pushing their body beyond its limits makes the brain see learning the language as the solution to ending this treatment - as such, party 2 will be far less likely to repeat those mistakes again.

Alongside this, there is forced immersion, in the sense that nobody is allowed to speak their original language in any context or to anyone - they must use the target language or be ignored at best or ridiculed at worst.

Understandably, this method is difficult to replicate on your own or outside of the army.

However, there are some tokens which can be taken from it: notably forced repetition & physical exercise.

Set yourself a challenge using any of the previously mentioned learning methods or apps. Keep note of your mistakes.

At the end of the challenge (say 30 minutes of learning) count up all your mistakes. Now do a push-up / squat / pull-up / sit-up / etc for each mistake you made while repeating the phrase out loud. If you stall too long on making a connection in your mind or stumble over the sounds, start counting from 1 again. Repeat this until you're continuously getting the mistakes correct.

At the end, go back to your lesson and repeat it. Did you get less mistakes?

Thoughts & considerations when it comes to learning a language - for language savants and novices alike

"If you don't use it, you lose it" is probably one of the most hated phrases in terms of learning anything new - and especially in terms of learning a language. I think a better expression would be "If you don't make room for it, you won't keep it".

If you don't make time to learn a language, you won't learn it.

If you don't challenge yourself to reach a certain standard, you won't achieve any standard.

If you don't make the effort to retain the new information, you'll forget it.

When you learn a new language, you have to make room for it in your mind. You have to be willing to make mistakes and continue, knowing you're not doing it perfectly. You have to be willing to make it a priority, even if nobody else in your life sees it as one. You have to be willing to be frustrated and tired and bored. You have to be willing to get every single thing wrong and try again. You have to be willing to be uncomfortable with the new sounds you're making and you have to be willing to be patient while your brain digs out a new burrow of tunnels and connections which didn't previously exist.

If you genuinely want to learn a new language, you have to make room for it in your mind and life. Even when sometimes it's a tight fit.

Resources, as promised

Reading, writing & textbook materials:

Book 1

Book 2

Book 3

Book 4

Book 5

Structured notebook 1

Structured notebook 2

Structured notebook 3

Something worth checking out 1

Other things to invest in:

A dictionary in your target language

Picture cards

Flashcards

Stickers

Books in your target language

Children's books in your target language

Nursery rhyme books in your target language

Magazine subscriptions in your target language on a topic you find fascinating

Newspapers in your target language

Poetry in your target language

1 paid language learning app - a lot of the time, you get what you pay for. Not always, but usually.

Notebooks, stationary, etc

Headphones / earplugs

Media in your target language

#languages #langblr #language #linguistics #learning #learn languages #education #educate yourself #educate yourselves #educación #educação #free education #free resources #resources #duolingo #savant

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ahqkas · 5 months ago

Text

♯ GOD KNOWS I TRIED ; kit walker

PAIRING! kit walker x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! kit is a true gentleman at heart, and he does what kind men do : he protects the ones he cares about ( based on this req.!! )

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, mature / suggestive themes, briarcliff asylum warnings, sister jude and her punishments + lmk of more if found

NOTES! my man my man my man . all the credits to the devider bellow belong to @/v6que !!

THE RAIN FELL IN RELENTLESS CASCADE, DRUMMING AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF BRIARCLIFF ASYLUM. The night was clothed in darkness and the only source of provided light was the occasional flash of lightning that illuminated the gothic architecture of the asylum. The heavy rain had changed the surrounding landscape into a dark blur. The expansive green lawn, overgrown and wild, seemed like it came out of a horror story with its ghostly flashes, revealing the twisted forms of ancient trees and the labyrinthine tangle of bushes. The wrought iron gates, their ornate designs now almost swallowed by the storm, groaned softly as they were tossed around by the wind.

Inside, the atmosphere was equally grim. The asylum's corridors, long and narrow, were bathed in a dim, flickering light from the aging fluorescent fixtures that barely pierced the gloom. Each flash of lightning revealed glimpses of the asylum's interior: the scattered, old furniture, the barred windows, and the heavy, locked doors. The harsh light highlighted the grim details of the inside — rusting fixtures, peeling paint, and the long shadows cast by the iron bars on the windows.

The nuns had decided to host one of the famous movie nights. It was a tradition they upheld during every stormy night in an attempt to calm down the residents who would become agitated by the loudness that came with the storm.

The main common room had been transformed for the occasion. The dim, oppressive lighting was softened by the warm, flickering glow of a makeshift projector setup, casting a gentle, almost nostalgic light across the room. The walls, lined with faded, institutional artwork and peeling paint, were obscured by heavy, tattered curtains that had been drawn over the windows to shield the patients' wandering eyes from the storm's fury outside. The dusty curtains hung in uneven folds. The nuns had also arranged a selection of worn, overstuffed chairs and mismatched couches in a semi-circle around the small projector that sat on a makeshift table. The screen was a large, slightly yellowed sheet stretched taut across a wooden frame and its surface bore the scars of countless previous showings.

You sat on one of the overstuffed couches positioned in the back row of the common room, your figure partially hidden by the shadows cast by the dim light of the projector. The couch you occupied was a faded, floral-patterned relic, its cushions soft and sagging from years of use. The upholstery, once vibrant, had long since dulled to a muted palette, its once-bright colors now blended into the overall gloom of the room. Everything was dull here in Briarcliff. Your posture was relaxed because of the warmth the man beside you provided.

Kit Walker, a kind man once you got to know him, was the sanest person in the whole building besides yourself and you were glad to form an alliance with him. Although, there were feelings nestled deep inside you, ones you didn't have to say out loud for him to see and feel. That man had a strong jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a chiseled, almost heroic appearance and that alone gave your knees the right amount of shake to fall for him. You found out he had a natural ability to really listen and offer comfort and he carried himself with a quiet dignity, not seeking validation or praise but simply remaining true to himself despite the circumstances.

Kit Walker was the man of your dreams.

The screen was currently displaying an old, black-and-white film, its grainy images flickering in sync with the erratic flashes of lightning outside but you couldn't force yourself to pay any amount of attention to the supposed entertainment. The film's dramatic scenes, with their exaggerated gestures and artificial emotions, seemed almost absurd compared to the thoughts that were dedicated to the man sitting next to you.

And the same could be said about Kit. The way the occasional light from the projector cast soft highlights across your features, emphasizing the curve of your cheek and the depth of your eyes, made you seem almost ethereal and Kit was losing it. None of the workers could force him to sit on the moldy couch and torture himself with boredom when you sat quietly beside him, distracting him with just simply being there.

He noticed your subtle, distracted glances toward the screen, but your eyes lingered more on him than on the film. Kit could feel the way your eyes followed the play of light and shadow across his face, how you seemed to be drawn to the warmth he provided rather than the outdated drama on the screen. He found himself smiling softly to himself at your distraction with a knowing look in his eyes. You wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

Leaning slightly closer to your body, Kit's voice was low and warm as it hit the side of your face, barely above a whisper to avoid breaking the fragile atmosphere that had settled around the two of you. "You know," he began and a hint of playful amusement appeared in his tone, "we don't really have to stay here if we're not into the movie."

"What do you mean?" you asked in the same tone as him, your voice a gentle murmur that barely competed with the distant hum of the projector. When you exhaled, the warm air hit Kit's face.

Kit's honey-brown irises shimmered in the darkness, and he subtly nodded toward the exit of the dimly lit room, where the storm outside was barely audible against the noise of the film. "I was thinking . . . maybe we could sneak away, find a quieter spot where we can actually do whatever we want. What do you think?"

The suggestion was simple, yet it carried the promise of a more intimate and personal escape from the boredom of the asylum's common room. The thought of stepping away from the dreary atmosphere was an enticing one. Yet, the fear of feeling Sister Jude's sick pleasure held you back. Sister Jude, with her sharp eyes and ever sharper tongue, seemed to delight in catching the patients of the asylum in any moment of weakness or rebellion. Her authority was absolute, an iron hand that loomed over every corner of Briarcliff, and the idea of stepping out of line — even for a brief moment — carried a weighty sense of risk. You could already imagine the way Sister Jude's eyes would narrow in satisfaction, her lips curling into that smug, almost sadistic smile she reserved for moments when she exerted her control.

You still remember what she did to Grace. What she did to Lana.

And yet, the allure of escaping with Kit, even just for a little while, was difficult to resist.

"I don't know, Kit," you whispered in a trembling voice as you voiced your worries to him. "What if we get caught? You know how Sister Jude is. She'd make an example out of us, and I — I don't think I could handle that. I don't want to give her the satisfaction."

He could see the fear in your eyes, the way it held you back, and it only made him more determined to protect you. "[Name]," he said gently, his voice low and reassuring, "nothing's going to happen. I promise you that. We'll be careful, okay? And even if something does happen, even if Sister Jude catches us, I'll take the blame. She won't lay a finger on you."

"Kit..." you began but he cut you off with a slight squeeze of your hand. You didn't question when he took hold of your palm.

"Trust me, [Name]," he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles repeatedly. "I won't let her touch you. I'll take the heat if it comes to that. But right now, let's just get out of here, even if it's just for a little while. We deserve that much, don't we?"

There was a warmth in his voice, a quiet strength meant to reassure you in ways nothing else at Briarcliff ever could. Kit was right — both of you did deserve this. And you could use the sweet release from the asylum's cruel grasp.

You took a deep breath, nodding slightly as you made up your mind. "Okay," you whispered into the darkness. Kit could feel the touch of your words against his lips. "Okay, let's go."

His hand was firm and reassuring as he helped you to your feet. Every movement of his was carefully done, as if even the slightest noise could shatter the fragile veil of secrecy he had cast over the both of you. The dim light of the common room flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the floor, but you moved with purpose, slipping quietly through the rows of seats, avoiding the eyes of the staff and the other patients who were too engrossed in the film to notice your departure. Sister Jude should hire more responsible staff.

Once you reached the doorway, Kit paused, glancing back to ensure no one was watching before gently guiding you with a strong hand against your lower back into the darkened corridor beyond. The heavy wooden door closed behind you with a soft creak, and the two of you were finally alone, the distant sound of the movie a only faint hum behind. You moved quickly through the long, lonely corridors of Briarcliff Asylum, footsteps barely audible on the cold, tiled floors. The rain continued its assault on the windows with no sight of stopping. Kit led the way, his grip on your hand never faltering.

As the both of you rounded a corner, the sound of distant voices reached your ears — staff members making their rounds. Kit's fingers tightened his hold on yours, pulling you closer as you pressed yourself against the wall, breaths held in unison. The voices grew louder for a moment, then faded as the staff continued down another corridor, oblivious to the two figures hidden in the shadows. Relief washed over you along with the vivid pictures of Sister Jude's punishment. You needed to find a place to hide, somewhere quiet where you could steal a few moments of peace away from the watchful eyes.

Finally, you reached the heavy metal doors of the kitchen, pushed open just enough to allow a sliver of light to escape into the dark corridor. Kit glanced around to ensure you were alone before gently pulling the door open wider, gesturing for you to slip inside first. He followed right after you.

The kitchen was quiet, dimly lit by a single overhead light that cast a soft glow across the industrial steel countertops and rows of neatly organized utensils. The scent of cleaning supplies mingled with the faint aroma of fresh bread that had long since been cleared away.

And before either of you could think or second-guess, you were drawn together like magnets. Kit leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with urgency. The kiss deepened quickly though, passion flaring between the two of you like a wildfire as everything else faded away — the asylum, the storm, the fear. All that mattered was this moment, this connection. His hands found their way to the small of your back for the second time this evening, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own. You responded in kind, slender fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if afraid that letting go would mean losing this fleeting moment of intimacy.

The heat of the kiss spread through you both when Kit's strong hands slid down to the bottom of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The feel of your body against his was intoxicating, and he moved with purpose, carrying you to the nearest counter. With a fast and urgent motion, he set you down on the cool steel surface, hands brushing aside utensils and making space for you, painting his hands with flour in the process.

Your heart raced as Kit's hands roamed your body, exploring with both desire and respect. His touch was precise as if he was memorizing every curve, every inch of your skin to remember for the rest of his days. He kissed you again, this time slower, savoring the taste of your lips as his hands moved from your waist to your hips, then slowly up to your back, pulling you closer to his body and hiking your knees up even more, leaving white fingertips in their path.

You responded in kind, hands tracing the sculpted lines of his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. There was something so raw, so real about the way he touched you — as if this was the first time in a long time he had felt truly alive. Your fingers danced across his skin, exploring the planes of his body with the same amount of desire. Kit's hands slid up your sides and under the hem of your gown, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin just above your underwear, creating a shiver that traveled down your spine. You arched into his touch, breath hitching as you felt the tension coil tighter within you.

"Kit . . . I—" you couldn't finish your sentence, the words lost in a breathless moan as his hands wandered lower, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. The intensity in his gaze was undeniable, a mixture of raw desire and something deeper, something that made your heart pound even harder. That look — told you how much he wanted you, how much he needed this, how much he needed you — made you tighten your legs around his waist. "I've got you," he whispered, his voice rough. It was a look that made your heart race and your body ache for more.

The door swung open with a suddenness that shattered the intimate bubble you had created, the sound echoing off the cold, sterile walls of the kitchen. Kit froze, his grip on your hips tightening instinctively as you both turned toward the intrusion. The harsh overhead light of the corridor spilled into the room, illuminating the figures standing in the doorway.

A tall, stern-looking man in the uniform of the asylum staff stood there, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon Kit and you. His presence was imposing, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the light from the hallway, but it was the figure behind him that sent a jolt of fear through your chest.

Sister Jude.

She stood in the doorway like a dark omen, her presence dominating the small, dimly lit kitchen. The air around her seemed to chill, as if the very atmosphere cooled from her disapproving gaze. She didn't need to raise her voice to command attention; her mere presence demanded it. The rosary beads hanging from her waist clicked softly as she took a measured step forward, the sound eerie in the tense silence of the room.

The staff member followed the head of this asylum, his eyes flicking between Kit and you, the disdain in his expression unmistakable. "Found them, Sister Jude," he said with a cruel satisfaction. "Just like you suspected."

Kit quickly released you and his hands dropped from your hips to tug at your gown. The least he could do was to save your modesty as much as he could. The man stepped back, positioning himself slightly in front of you as if to shield you from the inevitable wrath of Sister Jude. Your heart pounded in your chest, the warmth of the moment disappearing into the cold reality of the situation just like Kit's hands.

Sister Jude's icy gaze shifted from the staff member to Kit, and then to you, her brown irises narrowing further. "Well, well," she began loudly, her voice echoing in the silent room, cutting through the tension easily. "I always knew you had a penchant for trouble, Mr. Walker, but this . . . This is a new low, even for you." She took a step closer to you, her heels clicking ominously against the tiled floor. "And you, Miss [Last name] . . . I expected better."

The weight of her words pressed down like a leaden shroud, suffocating any remaining trace of the warmth and connection that had filled the room just moments before. It was as if the very walls of Briarcliff had closed in around you both, trapping you in.

Kit stood his ground, though every instinct screamed at him to protect you from the storm that was about to break. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his neck tensing as he fought to maintain his composure. His hands, which had just moments ago been tenderly caressing your skin, now curled into fists at his sides. But beneath that facade, there was also a flicker of fear — not for himself, but for what you might endure at the hands of Sister Jude if his plans failed. He squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height, and locked eyes with the cold woman before him. "It was my idea," Kit declared, his voice firm and unwavering despite the tension that crackled in the air like a live wire. "Leave her out of this." His words were a shield, a desperate attempt to keep his promise, to protect you from the consequences that he feared would be far worse for you than for him.

Sister Jude's eyes flickered with something that you couldn't quite place — an emotion that lingered somewhere between suspicion and a twisted, almost predatory satisfaction. Her thin lips curled into a faint, humorless smile, and the cold glint in her eyes seemed to sharpen, as if she were savoring the moment. She took another slow step forward and her gaze shifted from Kit to you, who stood just behind him, face paler than usual.

"Oh, I have no doubt it was, Mr. Walker," each word was enunciated with deliberate precision, as though she were savoring the power she held over the two of you. "But both of you will be held accountable for this . . . indiscretion."

"I'm the one who's responsible," Kit's voice cut through the oppressive silence with a determined edge. "It was my idea, and I should be the one held accountable. Leave [Name] out of this."

Sister Jude's expression flickered with a moment of surprise, but it quickly settled back into its usual look. Her eyes narrowed as she took in Kit's words, her mind no doubt calculating how best to respond to his unexpected act of bravery. "Very well," she said, her tone clipped and devoid of sympathy. "If you insist on taking the blame, then you will be the one to bear the consequences." The woman turned her attention to the staff member who had followed her into the kitchen. "Go to my office. Fetch the cane. The one I reserve for my favorite patients."

The staff member's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't hesitate. He gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, disappearing through the door with a purposeful stride. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor as he made his way to retrieve the instrument of punishment.

Sister Jude's gaze returned to Kit and Dahlia, her expression unrelenting. "You've chosen to make this difficult for yourself, Mr. Walker," she said, her voice dripping with a cold satisfaction. "And while I commend your misguided sense of honor, it changes nothing about the punishment that awaits you. And you, miss [Last name], shall watch what happens once stupidity takes over the mind."

Your heart ached at the sight of Kit standing his ground, his body tense with the weight of his decision. You wanted to protest, to beg Sister Jude to reconsider, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the sheer weight of the situation. Instead, you reached out, your hand trembling as you grasped Kit's arm, trying to offer some measure of comfort and support.

Kit looked down at you, his eyes softening just for a moment before he turned his attention back to Sister Jude. "Whatever you're planning, I can take it."

"Your bravery is noted. But bravery will not protect you from the consequences of your actions."

The staff member returned, carrying the cane with a deliberate and solemn expression. The cane was an old-fashioned implement, its polished wood gleaming menacingly under the kitchen's harsh lights. It was a feared symbol of discipline, one that had seen many hands and many uses over the years, and its presence in the room only heightened the sense of dread.

Sister Jude took the cane from the staff member, her fingers tracing its surface with a possessive, almost reverent touch. "This is the cane I reserve for my most . . . memorable patients," she said, her voice low and chilling. "It is reserved for those who require a lesson in obedience. You will stay and watch. This is part of your lesson as well — understanding the consequences of defiance."

Kit's pants were pulled down by the staff member, exposing his bare bottom to the cold air of the kitchen. The sight of his exposed skin, vulnerable and waiting, was a sharp contrast to the determined set of his jaw. He braced himself against the edge of the kitchen counter, his knuckles white as he gripped the surface for support.

The cane was held firmly in her hand, and Sister Jude raised it with a practiced ease, preparing to deliver the first stroke. The sharp whoosh of the cane slicing through the air was followed by a resounding crack as it made contact with Kit's bare skin. The sound was a brutal reminder of the severity of the punishment, and Kit's body tensed, a muffled grunt escaping his lips as the sting of the cane seared into his flesh. The printed redness flared bright against the pale tone of his skin.

Your eyes filled with tears as you watched, heart breaking at the sight of Kit's suffering. The sight of his reddened skin, the way his body flinched with each stroke, was almost too much to bear. Every crack of the cane seemed to echo through your own chest and you felt like throwing up.

The punishment was relentless, each crack of the cane drawing a sharp gasp or low moan from Kit, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, and he tried to maintain his composure, though the strain of the punishment was evident in the tension of his muscles and the way his body shook with each hit. His only concession to the agony was the occasional clenching of his jaw and the muffled sounds that escaped him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sister Jude stepped back, her breath even and controlled. The cane was lowered, and she regarded Kit with a look of detached satisfaction, as if the punishment had been a necessary chore rather than an act of cruelty.

Kit's body slumped slightly, his breathing ragged and labored as he tried to regain his composure. His bottom was marked with the angry red welts of the punishment, the skin raw and tender from the relentless strokes of the cane. Your eyes were filled with anguish as you looked at him, the man who had taken the blame upon himself to protect you.

Sister Jude's gaze then turned to you, her expression one of stern disapproval, before she and the staff member exited the kitchen. "You've seen what happens when rules are broken. Let this be a lesson to you."

Your heart raced, pulse pounding in your ears as you rushed to Kit's side. Your movements were frantic, driven by a desperate need to offer him some measure of comfort and relief from the suffering he had endured. Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you approached him, hands trembling more than ever as you reached out to touch him. "Kit, I'm so sorry."

Kit turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and something softer, a flicker of gratitude for your concern. He took a deep, shuddering breath and attempted to straighten up, though his body protested with each movement. "Don't," he said softly, his hand reaching out to drape over your shoulders for support. "It's not your fault. I chose this. And I would do it again."

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spiderlandry · 1 year ago

Text

connect — ethan landry

Description: Ethan is enamoured with the girl who beats him during a college trivia night.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x F!Reader (she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a girl)

Warnings/Tags: non-gf ethan, fluff, probably super corny (you have been warned.)

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: the trivia is based off an episode of only connect. for the record, i’m not british i just love that show

There aren’t many things in college that really matter to Ethan besides his grades. Sure, he has his friends��but they understand his incessant need to excel in academics once he opened up about his aspirations, which more often than not have him holed up in the apartment he shares with his longtime roommate, Chad. They’ve been roommates since freshman year in the dorms, and Chad said he didn’t want anyone else to be his roommate, so they decided to rent an apartment for junior year. Being a good roommate is third in the list of important things.

However, the thing that takes second place is something that his friends don’t understand. It’s the annual trivia competition held by Blackmore’s Honor Students Society. Particularly, one held by the STEM students. This tradition, having existed since the society was founded, has been a loved custom.

Spanning three days, the winner gets a donation to a charity of their choice under their name at the end. It’s been vital for frats and sororities to win because of the reputation points earned for their society, but Ethan is not part of one; yet he still wants to win.

Often, he gets teased by Chad and Mindy while he prepares for the upcoming few days. But he lets them, knowing they’d agree to be his teammates like they always do. His team during the first part—the trivia bowl—has always consisted of him, Chad, Mindy, Anika, and Tara. They switch out teammates for different categories. It has worked all these years, there’s no reason for it not to work again.

Well, he’d be proven wrong this time.

The first day is by far the most difficult due to the amount of people participating: twelve teams.

The lecture hall is alight with excitement, nerves running through the crowd as the host gets on the stage. Ethan being the team captain, he sits in the middle with Chad and Anika on his left, Mindy and Tara on his right.

(After some trial and error, it was best Chad and Mindy didn’t get to sit together because of their banter, and if the arrangement was Mindy with Anika and Chad with Tara, it’s just Ethan fifth-wheeling.)

“Who’s ready to rumble?!” The host shouts, the boom of the microphone travelling around the room. They cheer in anticipation. “Alright! I’ll explain the rules for the quiz bowl, then we’ll get to introducing our teams.

“For this first day, we’ll play connections—the goal is for your team to find the connection between the clues we put on the screen,” he points to the big projector screen. “For the first ten seconds, there will be two clues. After that, the other two clues will be shown and there are fifteen seconds for your team to figure it out.

“The clues will get harder as it goes on. Every team has a bell, whoever dings first gets to answer. Now! Let’s get to introducing! From the front of the room, you—“ he points.

Chad speaks for the team, “We are the Fab Five, and we’ve got a champion with us.” He half jokes, shaking Ethan by the shoulders.

The host chuckles, “That’s right. Certainly a legend, Ethan Landry, who’s won the past two years. Think you can keep your streak?”

Ethan, confidently nodding, “Absolutely.”

Every other team introduces themselves. Nobody stands out, at least not for now. There are only some familiar faces to Ethan and that’s it.

It’s not until about halfway through the game, during a question that Ethan realizes he may have actual competition. Of course, he’s been confident throughout the past hour, his team in the lead with the most points, but there’s a close runner-up that answers from across the room.

The screen reads:

Audio CDs. Details of The Budget.

The silence in the room is cut with a familiar ding. Ethan looks to the source, spotting the one person who seemed to have an edge over his entire team. You.

“Red books,” You answer.

God, who are you? Ethan thinks. He shakes his head—he has to get it together. His strategy has been to focus on his team only, and he can’t stray from that now. His brows furrow when the host says you’re correct.

“This has been interesting,” the host smiles, “The Fab Five has tied with the Three Fates.”

Ethan looks closer, and indeed, there are only three people on your team.

You don’t seem to pay him any mind.

So the game continues.

Aqua Regis. Aqua Fortis.

“Alchemist names for acids,” Ethan answers.

Oscar Niemeyer, Brasilia. Charles Barry, London.

“Architects of parliaments,” you chime.

Meanwhile, his friends can definitely sense the nervousness radiating off Ethan. He isn’t usually concerned with staying first place, but he keeps sneaking glances to your position in the room and they’re beginning to think it’s not just about trivia.

All in all, their team still stays in the lead with two points ahead of yours.

The second day.

The host welcomes everyone back into the room, a few less people than yesterday. He leans against the podium, grinning as your team and Ethan’s are forced closer together, tables next to each other.

“The teams have been cut down to the top four who earned the most points yesterday,” he explains. “The other teams are invited to come watch, as well as anyone else interested as the game finally gets interesting.

“For the next hour, you’ll play sequences. The goal is to predict the fourth in a sequence—if you predict it with less clues on the screen, you get more points. Two seconds in between each clue. No need for introductions, let’s do it!”

Fear.

Surprise.

Ethan rings the bell. “Devotion to the Pope.”

“Three points to the Fab Five. Next!”

Observation.

Statement.

“Testing.” You answer.

“Three points to the Three Fates, well done.”

It goes on like that, with the other two teams occasionally answering. But mainly it’s just either yours or his that answers.

A game of cat and mouse. It gets under Ethan’s skin, the way you easily answer the questions while laying back in your chair all the while Ethan is probably bouncing off his seat.

Amidst the chaos inside his own head, a jumble of questions and answers, there’s something about you that stands out. In his own circles, he’d never seen or heard about you. Though Blackmore was a big college, the amount of STEM honors students they had was relatively small, with the university being known for its film programs. He needed to know who you are.

The game is over before he knows it.

Hours later, thinking about his choices and zoning out, his train of thought is interrupted by an object being hurled at his head.

“You okay?” Chad throws a pillow at Ethan, who is sitting on the couch. He catches it last second.

“Why?” Ethan hugs the pillow close to his chest as his roommate gets something from the kitchen.

“You just seemed fidgety today. At the trivia thing.”

Even after knowing Chad all these years, it surprises him that he notices.

“No, yeah. I’m fine. Nobody’s just come close like that before.”

“Well, Y/N’s smart.”

Ethan’s interest piques. “You know her?”

“Yeah. I met her at a party, last semester. She just transferred here. She was drunk, going off to me about this new thing they discovered in physics.”

“Oh,” is all he can say.

“What, are you nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Tomorrow’s the big day. You’re gonna have to face her without us.”

“Shit.” He sighs. He was so caught up in beating you that he’d forgotten the last part of the challenge. He has to face you individually with other teams watching to see who gets the winning prize.

“You guys would get along, I think.”

“Are you kidding? She’s getting on my nerves.”

Chad tilts his head, akin to that of a confused puppy. “I don’t think you know the real reason, bud.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying!” He shrugs. “She’s very pretty.”

And as his (infuriating) roommate walks away, Ethan can’t help but silently agree.

A few continuous buzzes from Ethan’s phone is what finally takes him out of a studying session. Picking up the device, the screen reads:

Quinn

can you come pick up ur notes

He groans. The sun had taken its place above, a contrast to when it was just dawn as he woke up to study for the final part of the quiz. It was probably a good idea to go outside, though.

On the steps of the Carpenter/Quinn residence, he taps his foot against the welcome mat impatiently.

The door swings open.

Here’s the thing: With the three people living in this apartment, it was a common occurrence for friends to be over. Tara’s got a big group that she knows, Sam has coworkers over, often Danny even opens the door or one of Quinn’s flings.

But out of all the possibilities, the last person in his mind to open the door is you.

Ethan’s smile drops, and you seem to notice it. “Oh, sorry.” You stand aside to let him in, yet he doesn’t move an inch. “Who are you looking for? You’re Ethan, right? Chad’s roommate?“

Just then, Tara’s voice booms from the other room. “Come in, Ethan!”

One second under your scrutinizing gaze is enough to make him stumble into the apartment, and he’s sure he can feel your stare burning the back of his head as he rushes to Quinn’s room.

He closes his sister’s door with a slam, making her jump. “What’s your problem, asshole?” She turns from her spot on the bed, facing him.

It takes a minute for him to catch his breath. “My problem? I should be asking you that!” He’s careful not to be too loud, his words coming out more as a whisper. “Why would you ask me to come here?”

“To pick up your notes? I told you.”

“No that—” He shakes his head, “That Y/N is here. Didn’t I tell you about that girl from trivia?”

“The one you have a crush on?” She laughs. “So? She’s friends with Tara.”

“Friends with—” His head tilts to rest against the wall. “You didn’t tell me she was here.”

“…I did. Didn’t you read my texts?”

Texts. As in plural. He fully opens his phone into the app, and lo and behold, the texts are there.

Quinn

the girl you have a crush on is here lol

where have u been

can you come pick up ur notes

She laughs even harder when she realizes his mistake.

“Please shut up, Quinn.”

“Why don’t you just talk to her? She’s nice!”

“Keep it down.”

“Fine,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Your notes are on my desk.”

He picks them up and turns to leave, however not without an additional comment from his sister.

“I promise you won’t regret talking to her.”

He only grumbles, walking out. He has to face you again, though he’s sure if he’s fast enough he can avoid you.

Nope. Totally wrong.

You stop him before he exits the apartment, he shoots a stern look to Tara in the background when she audibly holds back a snicker.

“Hey, you.” You nod to him. “You’re my competition.”

He finally faces you. His eyes scan your expression, treading lightly as to not get lost in your eyes. “I am.”

You flash him a devilish smirk, “You think you’ll win?”

“I know I will.” He quips back, slowly gaining confidence. You slide in front of him, opening the door to let him out.

“See you tonight?”

“Good luck,” he smiles. “You’ll need it.”

Unbeknownst to him, it was Tara who invited you over just to psych him out. And it worked.

“The final day of this competition,” The host speaks to the crowd consisting of the teams who competed. “It’s been a close race between the Three Fates and the Fab Five.

“Per our tradition, the team captain of the two leading teams are to face off each other in a timed game of missing vowels.

“On my right is Ethan Landry, team captain of the Fab Five with twenty-two points,” He reads off an index card. “He’s an honors statistics major, in his third year here at Blackmore. On my left is Y/N Y/L/N, team captain of the Three Fates who have twenty, she is a double major on linguistics and anthropology. She recently transferred here from Rutgers University.“

The audience cheers. You and Ethan stare at each other intensely, like you can see straight through his soul.

“The objective of this game is to fill in the missing vowels of what’s on the screen. You’ll be given a category, the first one being endangered mammals. Thirty minutes on the clock, use your bell to answer, and best of luck. Time starts now.”

FRC NLPH NT

Your bell goes off before he can even think, “African Elephant.”

You have an advantage, he realizes. But he studied.

BLC KRH NCR S

“Black rhinoceros,” Ethan answers. You smirk—for a second he’s thinking if you hadn’t answered on purpose.

The game is back and forth.

RN GTN

“Orangutan.”

BC TRNC ML

“Bactrian Camel.”

He can feel the audience’s eyes jumping between him and you, and besides either of your voices and the host moving onto the next category, the room is unusually quiet. It’s not like any other year, he should have worked harder.

It does not help that you’re gorgeous, but it takes all of his willpower not to get distracted by your frustratingly enchanting smile and the crinkle of your eyes when you beat him—

You beat him, and he lost.

“Time’s up!” The man announces, and he meets you halfway on the stage to shake your hand.

“There’s always next year, man.” Chad pats him on the back pitifully, though he knows it’s out of kindness. “Look who’s coming,” His roommate gestures to behind him. He turns around, and of course you’re there.

Ethan can see your group exiting the room, and he can sense his group leaving, too. It’s just you and him now.

“You did well,” you say. And to his chagrin, it really does sound like you mean it. “Wanna get a milkshake?”

He tries not to show surprise. “With me?”

“The least I can do,” you nod.

“Lead the way.”

He hopes you don’t notice the beads of sweat on his forehead.

He can’t help but feel slightly guilty when you pay for his drink. Slightly. You did beat him.

Expecting to separate from you after that, he moves to leave but you catch his wrist. “Where are you going?” There’s a laugh brewing, but you hold it back.

“I’m—“ He pauses. “I thought—“

Thankfully, you get him. “No, I wanted to talk to you. Come on, I know a spot.”

The cold drink in his hand is surely a good distraction. He follows you into a small academic building, and you start making small talk with him. He really doesn’t mind, not when it’s you.

“Where are we going?” He finally questions when you lead him to a set of stairs.

“Rooftop,” you reply when you both reach the top.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Illegal?” You open the door, ushering him outside as you follow.

The sunset is the first thing he sees. He’s drawn to it, staring in awe. Various pink and orange hues paint the sky.

“It’s not illegal,” you pipe up. “Blackmore just doesn’t allow it. It’s a liability.”

He knows that, though. “So how did you get us up here?”

“That’s for me to know.”

He mirrors your grin. “Come on, tell me.”

“Maybe one day.”

The implication of a deeper friendship with you makes his heart soar. Or something more than that.

“What does the competition mean to you? Do you just like the bragging rights?”

His brows furrow. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. That’s a lie, he knows. “I donate the money to this animal shelter where I got my childhood dog.”

It’s a moment of honesty that is unexpected, even for him.

“What’s the shelter?”

“Why?”

“So I can donate it under your name.”

Hm? “What?”

You chuckle, “I like your reason. It’s nice.”

“But you won.”

“And I get to decide,” you say.

He can’t really argue with that. So he does the next best thing, “We can do it under both our names. You keep the bragging rights.”

“What makes you think I want it?”

“You were teasing me!” He bickers.

You go back and forth again, this time without any prying eyes. You stay talking until your milkshakes are done, even more after that. The sun has almost gone down, with only a little bit of light left.

When it’s time to leave, though, neither of you want to. It’s an invisible string.

“Just text me the name of the shelter.”

“Text—“ he starts, “I don’t have your number.”

You raise your brows, as if asking something. “Well?”

Getting the hint, “…Can I have your number?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream 6 x reader #scream vi #scream #scream x reader #ethan landry fluff

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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 07)

Soap/Reader

TW: sex

MDNI/18+

AO3 LINK

I'm so sorry for the wait!! I hope this long chap made up for it. I really appreciate all the comments and reblogs. It really keeps me going. The next chapter is gonna be rough. Hope you're ready for it. I'm not!

CHRISTMAS EVE

The lecture hall slowly began to fill with graduate students and professors. A gaggle of undergrads huddled to the side with their notebooks, surely attending by someone else’s command and not of their own volition. They were all dressed in various layers of warmth. Anoraks and sweaters rustled and stretched in the cloth seats, the odd peacoat was hung carefully over the edge of a chair. It was nice to have a small crowd, but you were sure everyone had somewhere better to be. The only people that would show up to the long-standing tradition of a Christmas Eve colloquium were the die-hard academics and those desperately needing extra credit in their year-long lab classes.

You liked this lecture room the best. The big arching stadium seating made you feel like a surgeon in her theatre, carving up your poems and displaying their abnormalities, arguing in favor of their spectacular forms, illustrating your skills with grace and ease. It was all well and good not to be the patient on the table. Today’s victim would be Sonnet 91.

The projector light blinded you in an unnatural blue, making you turn away from its lens, and you pretended to busy yourself with your notes as you waited for it to warm up. You shuffled the papers again, and you had a sip of water. Just fidgeting. If you stopped moving, you’d think about him, and you didn’t want to think about him.

He’d gotten your message from Gaz, that much was clear. You knew because you started receiving sunrise texts again — just the pictures, though — and when he needed to go out on a mission, you’d get your little promises. You sent him back what you received. If he sent a sunrise picture, you returned it with your own. If he said that he promised, you said it, too. You wanted him to call. You wanted to drag it out, to gut it like a fish, to see all the entrails of your feelings and the bloody evidence of your battle to be together, all of its innards smeared across a cutting board, sterile and measurable.

But, for some reason, you couldn’t do it. You tried to type out what you’d wanted to say, but none of it made sense. It was all just begging and pleading and wishing for things you couldn’t have. So, you stopped. You kept up the replies. You matched his energy. It wasn’t until he sent you a screenshot of his flight itinerary that you started to realize the other shoe was dropping on you very soon.

He was supposed to fly in sometime this very afternoon, but it wouldn’t be only him. You’d heard from Pidge that his whole team was coming with him, eager to meet her and Hamish, apparently. You didn’t know what emotion you felt about that, but its anonymity didn’t stop you from feeling it.

You’d sent him back a Google Maps screenshot of your apartment, since he was supposed to be your ride up to Old Kilpatrick, and he sent you back the thumbs up emoji.

It was embarrassing to you that the slight change in send-reply patterning made your heart race. You felt like your brain could benefit from a hard reset, like an iPhone that had chosen to get stuck on the same application, unable to move forward to the next task.

So, you’d tried to put him out of your mind. When your labmate begged you to take her place at this colloquium, you jumped at the chance. A presentation would take up so much time and energy; surely it would cure you of your obsessive behavior. Unfortunately, Sonnet 91 felt all too timely.

You watched it populate the screen, the first four lines occupying the cold, unembellished center of your slide, professionally stark:

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;

You wondered where your glory would come from, if you ever had any. Then, as if to answer your question, the hall door opened and he walked through it, carefully propping it open behind him and letting his three enormous friends through. Johnny was freshly shaven, and his mohawk was back, trimmed on the sides and groomed to stand in a tall, brown shock. You could see the prominent scar on the side of his head, a sharp cross where the hair could no longer grow.

There was an observable air of confidence to his movements, as if this was his hundredth colloquium, as if he attended them every week. His surety silenced you, and you stood staring, rapt.

He met your eyes. The bright, glassy blues found you, set in a pleased way, fully at peace. It was the face made when something lost had been found, when a gift was unwrapped. A knowing gleam.

If you didn’t start talking, people were going to ask you if you were alright. So, you introduced yourself, shakily but smoothing it out as you went,

“Good evening, and thank you for joining us at the 2023 Christmas Eve Colloquium tonight. I love this tradition, and I really appreciate you all being here. If you didn’t get the, uh… the handouts,” you pushed the stack across the desk toward the undergrads who all crowded around them like seagulls with an old French fry, “Okay...”

You pointed up to the sprawling slide,

“In looking at Sonnet 91, most would argue that it is a confession of love. But, it is a tentative one, at best. The speaker claims that despite whatever glory others may have, his glory is found in his lover. We don’t learn until the couplet that his affections are at risk of not being returned.”

You flipped the slide, showing the next four lines:

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:But these particulars are not my measure,All these I better in one general best.

It was all very simple. This was an easy sonnet, and there was no real mystery, but as you came to the end, you tried to reiterate your thoughts quickly, feeling the pressure to let people get on with their lives,

“The speaker makes quite a substantial claim here, so much so that the audience may be led to believe that he is being intentionally facetious, especially if one were to consider the content of Sonnet 92.”

“No,” a deep voice from high in the back protested, “I mean, I think I disagree with you, lass.”

The whole room woke up. Everyone turned quietly in their seats, generating a symphony of creaking and rustling of chairs and coats, craning their necks to look at Johnny who, for some reason, had stood up in his aisle.

“Oh, how so?” You said politely, trying to be deferential.

It was more than a little uncomfortable in the room. No one ever asked questions during the colloquium, even though that was its intended purpose, and certainly no one ever stood up when they asked it. Everyone usually just allowed the speaker to drone on and on about whatever topic they were into that week, and there would be polite applause at the end so you could all go home early. Ironically, Johnny had committed an act of rebellion a mere five minutes into your talk.

“Well,” he crossed his huge arms over his chest, shoving his muscles against each other. Amongst the mostly lithe, soft-bodied academic crowd, he and his friends looked out of place. He raised his voice, sending it arching down to you like an arrow, “I’m pretty sure he’s genuine. Look at the next four lines.”

He pointed to the glowing screen. You sighed, flipping slides.

Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,Of more delight than hawks and horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:

“Look, bonnie,” Johnny chuckled, “I dunno about you, but if I’m boastin’ about a wee hen who’s more than all that — more than wealth, more than all men’s pride? She must actually be somethin’ to boast about.”

You countered, trying to get the talk back under your control, flipping to the next slide:

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst takeAll this away, and me most wretched make.

“Then what of his lamentation in the couplet?” You asked pointedly, listening to the sounds of creaking chairs again as everyone turned back to look at you as you responded, “Surely he has some reason to doubt this uniquely prideful love.”

Johnny shrugged,

“He doesnae doubt the love; his life cannae be separated from his love. Love is all there is. Ye ken it from Sonnet 92 when he asks: But what’s so blessed-fair that knows no blot?”

You smiled, slowly, knowingly, and then finished the couplet for him,

“Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.”

You were aware of the implication you were wielding like a knife down there in your theatre, staining your hands and hurling your scalpel at him, accusing him through verse of the same sin you’d thrown in his face the last time you spoke to him: of being false, of betraying Pidge.

Johnny shifted his weight, frustrated, but standing his ground,

“It’s not… he doesnae think it’s false, hen. Tha’s not it.”

Were you still arguing about the poem? You couldn’t tell. His face had become serious and a little pleading. So, you responded in verse since it would fit the conversation either way,

“How like Eve’s apple doth thy beauty grow, if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.”

“And I would bloody eat it anyway, thief. False or no.”

There was an awkward silence and then a short, if a bit unsettled, polite applause. People began to shuffle out, standing, stretching, and chatting with each other as they made their way back into the hallway. A few of your labmates waved at you, and a friend from your cohort wished you a happy Christmas.

Johnny sauntered down the stairs toward you, leaving his friends lounging in their seats, and as he came closer and closer, you felt like you were the one on the slab of your own theatre, open and vulnerable to the empty room, fully at the mercy of your operator.

You thought he might pause, that he may stop walking and stand a few paces away, ready to talk things out, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slow his pace. Johnny grabbed you around your jaw with his enormous hand, his wide palm hot against your chin, and he pulled you into him, your lips sliding into his, pressing together like the last piece of a puzzle, completing a picture.

His body was so warm as you crashed into his arms, and he held you down, pinning you like you would fall away from him if he let go. You couldn’t do much else other than submit to his strength; you didn’t want to do much else. You grabbed him around his waist, feeling him through the thin cotton of his shirt, tumbling into him as he forced your mouth to take his tongue.

Johnny let go of a low moan, a sigh that couldn’t escape, and the hand that had been holding your face was now fisting your hair and running thick fingers through your soft strands.

He pulled back without warning, gasping as he whispered to you, speaking with his forehead resting on yours and his eyes pinched closed,

“Did you mean it, what you told Gaz? Am I right? Is this right?”

You took a deep breath, smelling his soap and his cologne, the scent of his skin so familiar to you it seemed like home. His eyes remained closed, and he wore a mask of pain, holding himself back from truly letting go. You nodded, whispering back to him,

“You were right.”

Then, his eyes shot open, finding yours immediately, looking back and forth to peer into both of them at once, searching for even the slightest hint of deception,

“Are you fallin’ for me, mèirleach? ‘Cause I’m… I cannae go halfway. I’m in, or I’m out.”

“I’m in,” you smiled, laughing a little at your confession. He kissed you again, softly petting your hair, holding you close. But, you paused and looked up at him with a warning glare in your eye, “But, look, she cannot know. Maybe after the wedding, but… she cannot find out.”

“She won’t,” he was smiling back at you, making it look like it would be on his face forever, “I’m a professional spy, lass, or did you forget my wee entourage back there.”

He nodded up to his friends. The captain was asleep with his hat over his eyes, snoring in long, regular rhythms. Ghost was using a datapad, staring intently at the screen, and Gaz was using two hands on his cell phone, tapping vigorously, engrossed in some sort of game.

Johnny whistled, quick and shrill. The men stirred, peering down at him and making their way toward you. When they reached the bottom, they all towered over you, ready for polite introductions.

“John,” the scruffy, bearded one shook your hand first. His fingers were dangerously strong, and it shocked you to feel it against your own palm.

A young man was next. You knew it was Gaz, but you hadn’t seen a photo of him yet.

“I’m Kyle,” he smiled. He was even nicer in person, “We texted, before.”

You nodded, smiling back, and introducing yourself.

Then, it was the big one.

“Simon,” the tall blond shook your hand for a brief moment, just enough to squeeze and release.

“It’s really nice to meet you all,” you said, “I’m glad you made it for the holiday.”

“We try to stick together ‘round this time of year,” Price explained, but you weren’t sure you fully understood his meaning. You just smiled and nodded.

“You ready to head out?” Johnny asked you.

“Yeah, just need to head back to my place and get my bag.”

“Alright, hen,” Johnny smiled, “Lead the way.”

You led them up and out of the building and into the cold night air. Your apartment was only a short walk from this side of campus, so you decided to forego the bus ride.

Johnny had your hand clasped in his so tightly that you wondered if he was alright. You looked up at him, and he smiled. You didn’t know how to say all the things you wanted to say, so you just commented on the most obvious one first,

“Where did you learn Sonnet 91? Or 92 and 93 for that matter?”

Gaz interrupted you, turning his head to talk over his shoulder as you walked behind him,

“Bloody stuck in his Kindle for months, he was. I think he read them all, and then he read them all to us. We’ve had more of the Bard than fuckin’ Lizzy the first.”

You gasped and made a face at Johnny, waiting for him to answer for his actions. He just shrugged, his cheeks flushed either from the embarrassment or the cold.

Price walked up beside him and knocked him a bit on his shoulder, ribbing him along with Gaz,

“Especially that one. What number?”

“Fuckin’ 145,” Ghost groaned.

Then, in unison, the three soldiers all started reciting it aloud, their voices sing-song and purposefully annoying,

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” to me that languished for her sake…”

Johnny shoved Gaz back to the front of the group with his free hand, laughing it off,

“Alright, alright, you bastards. I may have read it two or three times…”

“Two or three hundred, Sergeant,” Price rolled his eyes.

You grinned up at Johnny, humming your pleasure,

“Wow! I’m impressed. Didn’t know you were such a Shakespeare fan.”

Gaz scoffed,

“It’s not the poems he’s a fan of!”

Price smacked him on his arm, stopping Gaz from being too mean in his playfulness, aware that Johnny had his limits of what he would allow to be said in front of you.

“Mmm,” you answered noncommittally, squeezing Johnny’s hand as it held yours, clutching at you like the end of a rope, holding you like an anchor to his hull.

As you made it to your apartment, you pointed to the small coffee shop on the corner of your block,

“Do you wanna wait somewhere warm? I’ll only be a minute.”

Price snorted, grinning as if he had just remembered a private joke,

“Go help her with her bags, Sergeant. C’mon, lads.”

The trio left you together, and Johnny waited for you to open the door to the lobby. You buzzed in and waited for the elevator in the quiet foyer.

He was silent the whole ride up to your floor. You thought he’d have more to say, especially after just getting back from a tour. You wondered what was keeping him so quiet.

You jiggled your key into the lock and pushed your way inside. Marlowe was on the futon, lounging in her favorite position, but when she saw the strange man in her house, she bristled and fled beneath your bed.

“Marlowe,” Johnny said, recognizing her.

“Yeah,” you smiled, grabbing your vitamins from the kitchen cabinet to put in your bag, “Sorry, she’s afraid of strangers.”

“It’s alright, hen. I love your place. Look at that view. You can see the river and everything. That’s class.”

He was being polite. Johnny was way too big for your apartment. With him in the space, it felt like you may as well have lived in a tent. It was such close quarters that you spent most of the time edging around him to get to your stuff.

“Can I…?” He was pointing down at your bed, asking to sit.

Recognizing your rudeness, you nodded,

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Can I get you a water or something? Tea?”

“No, I’m good,” he sat and smiled, still looking around the space, taking it in. To be fair, there wasn’t much to see.

You continued to pack, trying to hurry knowing his friends were downstairs waiting for you.

“Okay, toothbrush… I think I’m all set. Are you ready?”

“No,” he was looking down at the floor, and his tone was so soft that it made you stop your packing whirlwind to listen to him.

The silence deepened between you, and you tried to be patient. Neither of you dared to move, but he met your eyes.

“What is it, Johnny?” You asked, still waiting.

He stood and walked the half step it took to stand before you. His huge shoulders blocked out the light, and you could tell he was chewing on his words, working them over and over to make sure they were right.

“I need to know…” he said quietly, running his fingers through your hair again, “I need to know if you are havin’ any doubts about this, lass. I dinnae want to pressure you, and I know I shouldnae be asking you to lie to her, but I need you, mèirleach. I need to know you’re not still havin’ doubts about the way I feel about you.”

Were you? You weren’t sure. You knew he cared about you, and you didn’t have any evidence that he was playing you, but Pidge’s warning still raged in the back of your mind.

You sighed,

“I don’t doubt that you have feelings for me.”

“But, you think they willnae last?”

“I don’t know, but I want to find out. It’s just hard to have confidence in a secret.”

He furrowed his brow,

“I’d call her and tell her now, if you’d let me. You wanna wait, hen. And I’m fine with that. I am. But, how am I supposed to show you who I am when I’m not supposed to be showin’ you anything at all?”

You didn’t know what to say to him, and it made you feel discouraged. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps you should have kept your promise after all, and this was just too complicated.

Johnny watched the guilt spread across your face and chased you down with his eyes, his tone laced with dark suggestion,

“Unless you want me to show you now, thief.”

You did. You wanted him to show you everything he was. And, you understood what he was asking you for. The nerves between your legs pulsed, and blood rushed down your arms, excited for whatever he was threatening you with. You wanted him to fuck you right here in your apartment. But, you hesitated, very aware that if you said yes, if you let him show you what he wanted you to see, you wouldn’t be able to come back from that. The guilt would eat you alive.

“Your… friends…” you picked at the zipper of his thick coat, stepping close enough to him that you could feel his heat radiating from inside the fleece lining of it.

“My friends can wait, thief. I can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

The same way a bear trap snapped shut, its teeth digging into the writhing flesh of the creature inside its metal maw, that was how he caught you in that moment. You looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant, and you were greeted with a hunter’s smile. He knew he had you, and he went for the kill, putting you out of your misery. His arms wrapped around your body as he kissed you with a high fever, moving from your mouth to your neck as quickly as he could, devouring your soft flesh there, nipping and sucking at you frenzied and harsh. All of his gentle reservedness was gone, pushed aside in favor of sating his wild craving.

You were on the bed in a second, your back flat, pressed into the mattress by his heavy weight. He didn’t readjust. He allowed his body to pin you down, crushing you beneath him. You tried to rid him of his jacket; there were so many layers between you, and you were eager for there to be none.

He helped you, shucking off his coat and shirt layers quickly before returning to your mouth and throat, breathlessly panting as he kissed and licked your throat. His chest was bare to you then, and the cold metal of his tags stung your chest as they jingled out of his clothes, falling onto you like two silver coins. You rubbed his body down, pressing into the muscles of his neck and back, feeling them jerk and lunge as he moved above you. He kissed your mouth again, moaning through his nose.

Then, he was peeling you apart, taking your clothes and tossing them away, pulling off the tissue from a coveted gift. Johnny didn’t even take time to pause at your bra; he just yanked it over your head with the rest of your clothes, unceremoniously. While you were sucking on his tongue and kissing down the scruff of his jaw, you heard his boots thump onto the floor, one after the other.

All that remained between you were your slacks and his jeans, and he was forced to leave your mouth to deal with the barriers. He made his way to your breasts, sucking on them hungrily, but not playing. He was done playing with you, it seemed.

He popped the button on your pants and tucked both of his hands into the waistband, grabbing your panties along with it, and ripped them down your legs with a deep grunt. You were naked, and the denim of his jeans raked against your sensitive skin. He was grinding his body against you as you were trapped beneath him, and you felt his hips rock back and forth as he rubbed his cock against your core, trying to use the friction inside of his jeans to find some pleasure, returning to your nipples to lick them into stiff peaks.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs halfway between the skin of his ribs and the bite of his belt, letting him thrust against you.

“Johnny,” you whispered, “Take them off.”

“Not yet, hen.”

You moaned, feeling his crotch pressing hard against yours, but not being able to find any sort of consistency in the texture.

“Why not?” You asked and begged at the same time.

“Because…” He kissed his way down your belly, settling his face between your thighs, “As soon as I do, I’m gonna fuck you, mèirleach. And I’ve not tasted you, yet.”

His mouth was wet and hot and just what you wanted. Johnny ate you like he was on a mission. There was no careful exploration like the first time. It felt like he was eating you to satisfy his own craving, and your enjoyment was merely a fringe benefit.

You keened as loudly as you dared, crying out for him as he lapped at your folds, hunting down your flavor.

Then, he began to speak to you as he sucked on your clit, pausing to say his words before returning to his font to swallow more of you down into his throat.

“Do y’know how long I’ve waited for this, hen?”

Suck, lick, kiss…

“How many nights…”

Suck.

“...in the sand…”

Lick.

“...in the bloody dark…”

Kiss.

“...waiting to have you in my mouth like this.”

Lick. Lick. Liiiickkkk…

“Oh, fuck, Johnny!” You bit down on the back of your hand, reeling from the pressure building in your center, feeling chills on your arms and chest, “Please…”

“And when Gaz told me…”

Suck.

“...I didnae believe him.”

Lick.

“But, I wanted to. I wanted to believe…”

Kiss.

“...that you were really mine…”

Suuuuckkkk.

“...mo mèirleach…”

Liiickkkk.

“...mo ghràdh.”

You started to come, your hips vaulting into his strong jaws, and his eyes found yours, bright and clear, staring at you, watching you fall apart in his mouth. At the last moment, just before you fell over the peak, he wrenched his eyes shut and sucked even harder, yanking you into a furious, crashing orgasm.

Then, desperately scrambling to taste the result, he thrust his tongue deep into your hole, his entire mouth suctioned to your pussy, reaping his soaking reward.

“Johnny,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the power you felt growing inside of you, bursting across your body like hundreds of little fireworks.

He was back up by your face in a moment, cradling you and kissing you with your come smeared all over his lips and cheeks,

“Shh, shh… it’s alright, lass. I know what you need. It’s what I need, too.”

You heard his zipper and watched him slide out of his jeans, kicking his socks off with them, naked with you once more, and now with full intent. His cock was drooling onto your belly, the precome leaving long, sticky trails as his swollen shaft traced its way up and down through your folds. Johnny’s cock was so hard that it felt like a warm, iron pipe was pressing into you, threatening and dangerous.

You must have worn the concern on your face because he chuckled down at you, kissing your forehead sweetly as he humped himself against you,

“Too much for you, thief?”

You let your hands meet in the middle, holding his dick with one on top of the other, effectively jacking him off as he thrust forward and back, wetting him with his own lubrication, and you watched him throw his head back in sharp need. You smiled up at him,

“Not yet.”

“Jesus Christ,” he paused, holding his position, poised like a viper. Then, he looked down at you, suddenly serene, “Do you need a condom?”

“No, do you?”

“Fuck, no,” he said, and he immediately sank his head into your softness, melting into you with a slick slide, trusting you implicitly, believing you like a disciple.

Your body hadn’t experienced a cock as thick and as hard as his. It wasn’t uncomfortably long, but its upward curve was particularly cruel. It was built to torture the soft pleasure-ladden spot inside of your walls, dragging across it as he fit himself inside of you. It took a few thrusts until you felt his hilt, but you were wet enough that your pussy didn’t need much coaxing. He was sighing above you, audibly and full of relief, his face bent and twisted in a perfect torment.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… thief, holy fuck. Oh, Christ. I cannae… oh…”

His thrusts were audible. Flesh pounded into flesh, and the wet noises coming from you seemed unreal. Each and every time he entered you, pressing through you and molding you to his shape, you felt sparks of bliss within your belly, expectant and eager.

“Johnny… it feels so good. You feel…”

“You alright, mo ghràdh? Do you… mmmph, fuck… do you need me to slow down?”

You imagined what that would be like, and your pussy railed against it, feral and wanton, fighting any semblance of gentility with sharpened teeth and greedy claws.

“No, please… don’t.” you kissed his cheek as he lay his head into your shoulder, deep in concentration, rolling in his passion.

Your kiss made him turn to face you, kissing your mouth so softly, with loose, relaxed lips, gently sliding his cheek across yours like a huge cat, rubbing himself all over you. He didn’t stop, but he spoke to you darkly,

“I’ll do whatever you want, lass. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“This,” you sighed, moaning as another wave of pleasure made you clench down around him, gripping him from within you with a fluttering squeeze, “You. Just you, mo chridhe.”

You tested out the nickname you’d used before, hoping to encourage him. You may as well have poured kerosene on a fire. He narrowed his eyes at you in disbelief, obviously hearing it and using it like war paint, covering his body in it, staining himself in it, changing himself from the inside out to fit its definition. He lay his head next to yours as he worked his cock within you, grunting through gritted teeth with each heavy thrust. His body started to tremble, shaking with his need to come, and the low, long whine that came from his throat made it sound like he was boiling over with blinding pleasure.

He took both of his arms and crossed them behind your back, grasping your shoulders from behind in a painfully tight hold. Then, pressed to his chest, he lifted you, settling you in his lap in the lotus position, keeping his cock sheathed deep inside of you. You grabbed onto his neck instinctively, holding him like a lifeline, rocking your hips into him to chase that friction.

Johnny sighed, pressing his forehead to yours,

“Yes, yes, yes, thief. Take it. Fuck yourself on me, hen. Use me. I wanna feel you come, mèirleach…”

He begged so sweetly, and you were happy to oblige. You used his shoulders to brace yourself while you pushed your body down onto him, spearing yourself over and over. At this new angle, his cockhead hit your g-spot every single goddamn time, and you were dizzy from his menacing shape. He snaked his hand between you to press on your clit, not even rubbing it but applying force, giving you something to grind against. The combination of his hand and his cock and his growling whines of struggling for control were enough to do the trick, and you saw white behind your eyes as you fell into a chaotic, plunging orgasm once again.

“Fuuuuckkkk…” He groaned loudly, his voice turning vicious, “You are mine.”

Your body fell back to the bed and he shoved your legs onto one of his shoulders, fucking you as deep as he could go, stretching you as he did, throwing himself into you as you came down from your high. He was shouting, curses and praises, all in a filthy, animalistic snarl. Johnny just kept repeating the same phrase in a cultish chant, mindless and recursive, completely beyond himself, past reality.

“You’re mine, thief. Mine.”

As he came, he searched for your eyes, staring into them, showing you his elation. You ran a hand across his scalp, your fingernails dragging through his mohawk, and you saw the whites of his eyes as he rolled them back into his head involuntarily. You held onto his hair and gave it a little pressure, holding his skull in your hands as he filled you with his spent pleasure, his cock throbbing, pulsing rope after rope of hot come into your belly, frothing and foaming around the base of his shaft as he fucked you through it.

20 MINUTES LATER

You were so worried that his friends would make some sort of comment. As you walked back to the coffee shop, tucked under his heavy arm, you prepared for the playful banter and the jeering. His mohawk was destroyed, and you were both glowing with a sheen of sweat, matching in your states. You knew that they knew. You could also tell that Johnny was bracing himself for the worst, steeling his resolve before entering the cafe. And you thought you would get, at the very least, some mention of how long it had taken to get your bags. But, when you made it to the coffee shop, they didn’t say a word. They smiled, and although they smiled knowingly, there was more affection in it than mischief. It shocked you. After all the ribbing from before, to have none now seemed like some kind of gift. When Johnny realized they were going to let him keep his prize for himself, uncontested, he began to glow with pride as much as pleasure.

The ride was not quiet, though. All of their stories from Urzikstan and its many dangers started to come out. Price told you about how Gaz and Ghost were almost incinerated in a cobalt mine, and Johnny was showing off his newest badge - a retro SAS pin Price had given him for rescuing the other two from said mine. The blue wings and the motto surrounded a bright sword.

“Who dares, wins?” You asked, trying to see the words in the dark backseat.

Ghost, who had needed to sit in the front with Johnny because of his height, nodded, taking the pin back from you to admire it.

“Well deserved,” Price commented beside you.

“Sounds like it,” you agreed.

Johnny had been so sweet to you after his ferocious lovemaking, you thought all the medals in the world might not be enough to thank the man. No one had ever been so kind nor so attentive. Most of the time, you and whatever lad would clean up separately, maybe watch a show or two and then say your goodbyes. Not Johnny. He spent most of his time admiring your body, making sure you were intact and unharmed. Then, after covering you up with your softest throw, he came back with a hot towel and cleaned you up meticulously. He lay beside you until you felt good enough to get dressed, and still as you were putting your hair up, he made you a tea and finished packing your bag with the things you’d forgotten; your vitamins on the counter and your phone charger.

When you came out of the bathroom, he had stripped your sheets and put them in the hamper, and Marlowe’s food timer had been set. Her litter box was clean, and the automated litter keeper was reset. You wondered fleetingly if he had wiped down the counters as well.

The drive felt shorter than usual, especially since your thoughts were on other things. But, when you pulled into Old Kilpatrick, Johnny spoke up to the whole car,

“Look, no one says a fuckin’ thing about us to my sister. To anyone, alright? She’ll find out when she’s bloody meant to.”

The men agreed to keep quiet, but Gaz mouthed off beside you,

“Sure we can keep a secret, Soap, but what about you? I wouldn’t give you a medal for impulse control, mate.”

Johnny eyed him in the rear-view mirror with a stern glare,

“Aye, but then that’s my problem, you daft bastard.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, grinning all the while.

By the time you’d arrived, the only open spot to sleep was a big pallet on the floor of the living room. Hamish was the only one awake to welcome you, and he set you up with pillows and blankets to camp out like a row of sardines.

“Hey, lass,” Hamish told you, “Go sleep with Pigeon. She’d murder me for leaving you on the ground.”

He looked worn out, and although you didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, you didn’t have any real reason to insist. So, you hugged all the boys good night, making sure not to take too long on Johnny’s turn, and retreated to your post.

Pidge was snoring softly as you entered the room, and you got ready for bed as quietly as you could, plugging in your phone to the nightstand. It buzzed, and you saw his message flash up on the screen:

Mo Chridhe: miss you

You: i miss you too

Mo Chridhe: im still in a wee shock

You: why

Mo Chridhe: you. cannae believe youre mine

You: i am. and youre mine johnny mactavish.

Mo Chridhe: promise

You: promise

CHRISTMAS MORNING

Waking up with Johnny and sitting around the tree together with your coffee was every bit like Christmas morning as when you were a child. Instead of presents, you were content to sit as close to him as you dared, pretending to be making room for others by finding spots on the floor beside the gifts and stockings.

All together, it was Johnny, his three soldiers, you, Pidge, Hamish, Hamish’s mum and dad, and Roger. Rodger had crashed on the couch last night, the Hamiltons had taken Johnny’s room, and now you were all crowded up in the small den, passing gifts around and chatting as you opened your presents. There weren’t many, but it was enough to feel like a holiday.

Roger got the Playstation he’d been begging for from his brother, and his parents had bought him the games. Pidge had given Johnny a new set of headphones since his had melted in the cobalt mining fire. She also got him a pound of her shortbread cookies, which he was stuffing into his mouth with absolute abandon. He’d bought her a tea set off her wedding registry, and Hamish had landed a very aggressive knife from him. The professor was already being given a tutorial by Captain Price, and you tried not to laugh as he practiced stabbing the air with him in the kitchen. Price was scary when he did it, but Hamish looked downright silly.

“Okay, alright. My turn. Here,” you gave out your cards to everyone in attendance, but pulled out a box for Pidge.

“What did you do! I told you not to, hen. I am going to give you a laldy, and you’d deserve it!” She hugged you around the neck and jiggled the box.

Satisfied with the rattle, she tore into the paper and gingerly lifted off the lid. Inside, she saw the MacTavish tartan, woven into a full shawl, embroidered with a tiny pigeon in the corner, just for her. She inspected it with wonder, her breath fully stolen away.

“Did you… You made this? Are you doin’ your weavin’ again, babe? I thought you gave it up.”

You shrugged,

“I found a reason to give it one last shot.”

Pidge started to cry real, honest tears, and she reached out for you, clutching the shawl to her chest, sobbing,

“Thank you, hen. Thank you so much. After they buried mum in hers, and I didn’t… I couldn’t touch it anymore, I just…”

You held her and rocked her back and forth, smiling at her outpouring of love,

“I know, babe. I remember you saying so. But, now you’ve got one of your own.”

For a moment, you stole a glance at Johnny. The whole room was a little moved by your gesture, but he looked… unwell. He was standing behind everyone, and you were the only one looking at him. His hand was clasped over his mouth, and he had tears coming from his eyes, unblinking, letting them roll down his cheeks one after the other, staring at you, frozen in place. He was so unsettled that, for a moment, you thought you’d made some error. But, as Pidge recovered, so did he, and he wiped his face to return to normal; putting on a mask of an expression, hiding whatever he had just shown you.

“You’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had, hen. And I love you. Dearly.”

“I love you too, Pidge.”

“Here, here, open mine! It’s not as braw as all tha’ you did, but still.”

You were handed a gift bag, and you peeked inside. You found a book of poetry with some incredible illustrations inside, and a charm necklace with a silver boar hanging from it.

“It’s our wee clan beastie. You may as well be a MacTavish by now, hen. So, I thought you should have it.”

You smiled, letting her put it on you. Then, you hugged her tight,

“You don’t know what that means to me, Pidge.”

Pidge laughed through dried tears, still emotional,

“Ha! Says you, miss weaver. Honestly.”

You let her gush over it a little more before you retreated back to your position beside Johnny. You pulled out the four smaller boxes from your bag and handed them to the soldiers, indiscriminately since they were all alike.

“What did you do, thief?” Johnny’s voice was low, and he was grinning up at you, staring at you through those dark lashes.

“Open them,” you urged him.

They did, and one by one they all pulled out small compasses, made with built-in flint strikers, hanging from tied paracord. It was the most tactical practical thing you could find on such short notice, but they all seemed pleased. Gaz shook it at Price,

“This would’ve been bloody helpful in South Tobraka!”

You laughed,

“Well, I’m sure it’s a little too low-tech for you, but Merry Christmas anyway.”

“It’s bloody perfect,” Gaz smiled, clapping you on the back. Ghost nodded, and Price hooked it to his lanyard without questioning it.

Johnny bent over to whisper to you as discreetly as he could,

“Gotta sneak off to give you mine, lass.”

You smacked him on the arm, whispering back, watching Pidge like a hawk as you did so to make sure she couldn’t see you,

“Don’t be naughty.”

Johnny laughed,

“No, no. I’m serious.”

“Alright!” Hamish clapped his hands, causing you to jump out of your skin, “Who’s ready for crackers?”

CHRISTMAS NIGHT

You and Johnny were curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of sweet wassail, scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night. You popped two crackers together, pulling out your paper crowns, your gold and his blue, snapping selfies and reading the jokes to each other. Everyone was in their crowns by the end of the night, and while Price smoked cigars on the porch with Gaz and Ghost, Pidge and Hamish had driven his parents and brother home.

You were finally alone after having such a full house, and your gift for him was burning a hole in your bag. You were dying to give it to him, but he beat you to the punch.

“Alright, mèirleach, are you ready for your wee gift? It’s probably gonna earn me extra PT for a few months, but it’s worth it.”

“Why?” You asked, setting your cup down on the end table and turning your body towards him.

“‘Cause I’m not even supposed to have these off-duty, much less hand them over to my American lassie.”

Johnny dug into the neckline of his shirt and pulled out the dog tags that you had encountered last night when he took you to bed. The coin jangled on the chain as he pulled it over his head, and like a medal for an award you had not won, he looped it behind your neck, letting the coin fall between your breasts, still warm from his body and now warm from yours.

You pulled it up to read its stamp, staring at the words:

O POS 2073521 MACTAVISH SAS RC

“Wanted you to have it, lass. A wee piece of me to keep safe, if you will.”

It was hard to know why you started crying, but you felt the searing tears fall down your cheeks as you stared at the tag. His blood type was what started it all, and you began to imagine all of the times that this thin coin would have warranted such a label.

“It’s alright, mèirleach, if you dinnae —”

“No,” you raised your hand to his face, closing your other hand around the coin and pulling it in to your chest, eager to keep it safe just as he had asked, “Thank you, Johnny. I love it.”

He turned his face toward your hand as you caressed his scruffy jaw, and kissed your palm, holding your hand with his so you couldn’t escape.

“I got you something, too. But, it’s small, and now I’m afraid you won’t have anything to hang it on.”

You dug in your bag and pulled out a small cardboard box with a thin red string tied around it. There was no card, there was no name printed on it, but he knew it was him nonetheless. He took it from you, almost snatching it, excited and surprised, not waiting for it to be given.

“Thief! You didnae have to do that,” he was grinning, and his eyes gleamed, full of sudden joy.

You’d found an old locket at the charity shop, and your gift had fit inside perfectly. When he opened the clasp, he froze. You’d use a scrap of the shawl that you’d woven for Pidge and cut a little circle from it, embroidering a tiny map of Scotland over the threads, planting a little red heart over what was almost Glasgow.

“Mo mèirleach…”

“Mo chridhe.”

As soon as you said his name, his eyes found yours and he leaned in to kiss you, clutching the locket in his fist, tight, tight, tight.

BEFORE DAWN

That night, in his bed, smelling his oranges and cloves, his scent filling your nose, covering you with his sheets, you lay buried in his chest where his tags used to lie, your cheek now warming the skin beneath. You imagined the compasses that dangled from the four sets of keys strewn across the kitchen counter. You thought about the shawl that was wrapped around his sister as she slept in her bed. Holding his locket in your hand, you ran your fingertips over its tartan, borne of the same threads as hers. You wondered about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the year ahead of you, and you felt a tightness in your own chest as you considered the timeline stretching out before you, woven from the choices you and your lover had made together. It was as if you had altered fate’s plan somehow, shunning your intended path and forging one of your own making. What future had you created? Did you have the guile to craft the right course? You held his hand, his fingers laced between yours, and whichever way you went, you hoped that he would be braving it with you.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #guile and guilt #soap mactavish #cod soap #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish

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neenaatyvm · 8 months ago

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Some more thoughts from yesterdays show:

Again, to preface I’m not a theatre aficionado. I’ve been to a few West End productions here and there and my knowledge of Romeo and Juliet is basically from back in Year 8 studying the text and watching R+J, so please do forgive me if I’m a bit uncouth with my opinions.

The set-up

It is very very minimalist. In terms of the set, it’s just the empty stage that they use and the metal grid you see below doubling up as a projector screen which they bring back and forth throughout the show. That Verona sign is literally only seen for like 1 minute and then removed for the rest of the play.

They used the camera operators quite often to show:

(a) whatever was going on outside the stage - e.g. when Romeo / Juliet make their initial entrances, they’re followed down some corridors and steps leading on to the stage; when Romeo (standing on the stage) first sees Juliet, she’s actually in the theatre foyer at the Capulet ball which we see play out on the big screen, as do Tybalt seeing Romeo and airing his grievances with Papa Capulet; Romeo on the roof scene;

(b) close ups of Juliet mainly providing juxtaposition to whatever scene was happening in the forefront - e.g. the Tybalt/Mercutio duel scene is intercut with dialogue from Juliet. They have the boys (Tybalt, Romeo, Benvolio and Mercutio) standing in front of the screen which is in the position as in the picture all on their mic stands whilst Juliet is behind the the projector screen with the camera operator;

(c) when the cast were more towards the middle or back of the stage - e.g. the morning after the wedding scene focuses on Juliet and Romeo laying down with heads together but feet pointing opposite directions.

There were literally no props at all in this play (unless you count Romeo’s cigarettes and the fake blood), and no costume changes, apart from Tom but all he does is just take his hoodie off to show the tank top.

The cast use a mix of mics taped to their cheeks and the mic stands throughout the performance. There didn’t seem to be (or not obvious to me) a reasoning behind when they would use the mic stands and when not.

The pre-show and interval music was really good. I don’t think I picked up on any music actually being played during the play, if they did, it was very subtle as compared to the big bass/thrum of the pre-show music.

The performance

The play starts off with the duel between Benvolio and Tybalt. The dialogue itself is performed using the mic stands but in very hushed tones. This seemed to be a bit of a running theme where when you expected big spectacle fights, it was almost told in retrospect with whispered tones. There was some creative use of the spotlights whenever any characters were in front of the Prince akin to an interrogation scene.

Romeo is introduced via the camera shot walking behind him from the hallways onto the stage, where he ends up breaking down over Rosalin. Make no mistake, Romeo is just pathetic, and Tom has him blubbering and depressed sat curled up into himself at the front of the stage. These early scenes he really lent himself into a more traditional thespian actor. You start to see a bit more personality and less Shakespearean once Romeo and Juliet meet at the ball/after the ball.

There’s a good few comedic scenes which really lighten up the play, and brings these characters to life. Personal highlights was Romeo screaming at the top of his lungs when telling Friar he was in love with Juliet, Romeo’s little 🕺 (Juliet and Nurse also have a lil dancey dance). The Nurse character really was a stand out for me (Freema Ageyman is a babe), she was really funny and witty, and pretty sure there was a bit of a background romance being hinted between her and Juliet’s dad.

Loved the diversity in the cast from Caribbean Papa Capulet, roadman Mercutio and Benvolio, and Paris was such a ‘nothing-between-the-ears’ vibe.

Romeo

He was pathetic, he was depressed, he was in lust love, he was angry, he yearned, he begged, he cried, he danced, he laughed, and ultimately he died. There was definitely a lot of scope in what Tom brought to Romeo.

Tom’s stand out scene for me was the banishment scene, the visceral anger of Romeo is palpable, and you really feel it. Gone is the youth and here is a man just angry at the entire world.

Juliet

They did really well to bring Juliet to life in such a believable way. Other adaptations I’ve seen have painted Juliet as this innocent child who almost flutters in and out. Francesca was fantastic in portraying a Juliet who knows who she is, knows what she wants.

We’re cringing alongside her when Paris tried to sidle up to her at the ball, laughing along with her at the sisterly relationship she has with Nurse (even though Nurse makes such a big deal of her breastfeeding Juliet as a baby lmao).

She stands her ground, has an excellent scene with Papa Capulet where he’s telling her his plans of her to wed Paris but she’s adamant not to.

There’s also a gentleness to her and Francesca does so much with just her eyes. There’s a number of close ups of Juliet with the camera and you can just see the sorrow, anger or pain portrayed on her face. Really enjoyed her performance.

Romeo and Juliet

Back to Romeo being a bit pathetic, so their first meet is definitely a bit pathetic on Romeo’s behalf. He’s standing there shuffling on his feat, trying to speak, voice breaking, clearing his throat, and Juliet just looking on bemused.

They start talking and the horny gremlins then jump into kissing because the physical attraction is real lmao.

Tom and Francesca’s chemistry was so good. So much of their interaction relied on the way in which they looked at each other and even from the top of the theatre you could just see the yearning from them both.

Juliet’s balcony scene was a highlight. Again the yearning, flirting and desire, with Jamie having Francesca and Tom literally standing with their faces an inch apart all up in each others spaces for a good 10 mins, it was just electric.

What also was interesting for me was just how well the play does in bringing to life the sequence of events of the play:

Sunday: Depressed Romeo is moping over Rosalin. His boys take him to a party and he fall in lust love with Juliet.

Monday: Romeo and Juliet get married. Tybalt and Mercutio die.

Tuesday: Romeo is banished. Friar and Juliet hatch a plan to stave off the impending marriage to Paris (planned for Thursday).

Wednesday: No one tells Romeo of the plan. He drinks poison and dies, Juliet awakens, sees Romeo dead, also dies.

These were just two dumb kids in reality and it shows.

The Pros

The cast was superb.

The comedic elements.

The minimalism was good, you were sucked in by the performance so the lack of costumes, music, props etc weren’t that noticeable.

The Cons

Mama Montague was probably the least used character in the entire play. We barely saw much of her acting at all.

Juliet’s death was a bit underwhelming for me - she awakes from her slumber to see Romeo dead at her side and there’s no real reaction. She laments their fortunes and follows in death - it just seemed a bit jarring when the rest of the play seemed to be so lifelike to then revert to that bland death scene.

Pacing in the second half was a bit slow. There were one or two scenes with extended dialogue/monologues which I was kind of lost in. I think this was compounded by the literal lack of movement on the stage at those points.

They could think more about what parts should be projected for the screen. Tom and Francesca honestly did so well to really showcase their chemistry literally staring into each others eyes but very little of their interactions we actually got a close up look of.

Still have no idea what ‘stunt’ they were planning which led to the technical delays. None of what we saw in terms of the roof scene would really fall under the stunt banner, unless they were planning something else.

#romeo and juliet #spoilers #tom holland

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bangchansgirlsblog · 1 year ago

Text

The way you look at her.

-Hyunjin

Warning: Fluff, angst, crying

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Summary: Hyunjin introduces you to his girlfriend…Does he know you have feelings for him?

!Kinda proofread!

It was a tradition in our friend group to meet up every Friday evening to have dinner and watch a movie.

It always was and always will be as long as we were together.

"Dinners ready!" Leeknow will normally call after a long day in the kitchen or "the foods here!" Chan’s voice will fill the house calling everyone in the living room after ordering take out if Leeknow didn't feel like cooking or didn't have time. Felix will normally pick out the movie since he was the sunshine of the group no one would argue with him or even try. I.N and Seungmin will set up the living room with blankets. Changbin and Han will normally set up the projector and set up the film. Lastly me and Hyunjin will work on the snacks. We always work on the snacks.

That's how our dynamics work in the house. How it's always worked but today felt odd. It felt different. It felt dark.

Mad I’m packing up to leave work, I take a look at my watch and it reads 5:05 pm.

The weather outside was cloudy and rain seemed to threaten to fall.

A sigh escapes my lips as i leave the building that I hate with everything in me. My work office.

Today wasn't busy but I still hated it. The grey walls, nasty coffee, yelling phone calls and my banging headache from all the fumes that lingered in the air. Who wouldn't want to work at such an amazing place? Please realize the sarcasm.

My day was gloomy no doubt but the text that lit up my screen is what made my stomach turn. Well in a good way Ofcourse. A text from Hyunjin. My Hyunjin.

Hey princessa! Start the snacks without me today. I'm going to be late ;)

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and shoot him a quick "okay" back but couldn't help but wonder why he was going to be late?

Hyunjin was never late. He knows how much I enjoy making snacks with him. He knows how much a cherished that time.

Maybe he had practice or something? Maybe I'm overthinking it. My thought process was interrupted my the door swinging wide open. I hadn't realized that I had gotten to the dorms already. I quickly put on a smile as I see Felix's wide smile as he squeals.

"Y/n's Here!" He jumps into my arms. Squeezing me in excitement.

"I missed you! How are you? How was work?" He bombards me with the normal questions he normally asks while helping me put my overnight bag down and jacket away. "Did Stacy from the office finally get with Jermey?" He gasps.

I let out a chuckle before answering all his questions, "I'm good Felix and work was tiring and no Stacy didn't but that’s tea for later!" He gasps even more.

"Okay okay Felix you're going to make her die with all your questions. Let her give some of us the attention." Chan says faking a pout and pulls me into a hug. "Hey kiddo, how are you?"

"I'm good Channie, how are you? Album almost done?"

"I wish, still needs more touches." He shrugs as we make our way into the living room. “How’s work tho? Have you found a new job yet?”

“No Channie, it’s really hard.” The work depression washes over me.

“Hey, don’t forget my offer. If you don’t find any other company that’ll take you, I’ll talk to our managers-“

“I know Channie, I just want to feel independent. You always take care of me!”

He lets out a laugh at my little tantrum causing me to roll my eyes. The conversation it interrupted by really loud Han’s voice.

"Y/nie!" Han gets up from the ground and hugs me

"Hey quokka!" I greet the boy who looked terribly confused like he always does when setting up the projector.

“The projector giving you a hard time?”

“No Changbin is” he whispers in my ears before rolling his eyes.

I take in the room and see that they were indeed working on the projector. The rest of the living room messy with either socks around or shirts from when the boys just take ‘em off whenever they want too.

"Hey Bin!!"

"Y/n not right now I'm focused! I'm in my zone!" He says with so much attitude making me burst out in laughter.

"Okay when your ready to greet me I'll be in the kitchen,”

"Yeah yeah...Han! Pass me that peace!" He says not bothered by my presence.

"Okay okay" Han mouths a 'help me' and I giggle at his flustraed look.

I leave them to do their thing and go to the kitchen where leeknow is cooking.

The scent of delicious food attacks my nose causing me to let out a moan and my tummy grumble.

"Leeknow!" I head behind the counter to great my hyung.

"Y/n!"

"I missed you! How was your week?" I give him a fist bump. He was currently cooking and was not in a position for a hug or hand shake.

"Same old same old, my body aches from practice." He shrugs as he seasons the chicken.

"Do you know whether or not I should make some crab or not?" He asks me.

"You should." I poke out my tongue before Chan walks into the room.

I look at the messy table and pick out and olive which causes leeknow to smack my hand and scold me.

"Ow." I pout.

"Leeknow don't forget that Hyun is bringing his girl today."

My body freezes. My head snaps in Chan's direction as a try to digest what he just said.

"H-his girl?" I ask him. The air in me being knocked out.

"Yeah apparently there's this girl he wants us to meet." Chan shrugs as his look at some papers on the dining table.

“O-okay,”

My head starts to spin. How could Hyunjin have a girl? Was she prettier than me? Was she blonde? Did she have blue eyes? Was she a foreigner like me?

So many questions run through my head. Tears threatening to fall from my eyes but the boys didn't seem to notice. Thank God.

I’ve had a crush on Hyunjin ever since I moved to Korea. Being a foreigner I thought he wouldn't like me at all. I still think that but the thought of him with another woman made me sick. It was bound to happen sooner or later but I was hoping later. Me and Hyunjin are like peanut butter and jelly or ketchup and fries. We went well together. If you saw Hyunjin you saw Y/n, if you saw Y/n you saw Hyunjin.

What hurt the most was the fact that he didn't tell me about this girl. He didn't have too but why didn't he? Wasn't it obvious that I liked him?

"Yah! Now great! I need more crabs and meat." Leeknows loud voice rings through my ear and I snap out of my trance looking up at him. "I.N!" He calls for the young maknae who is quick to come into the kitchen.

"Yes hyung. Im here- oh hi Y/n! I didn't see you come in!" He changes his direction and walks to me pulling me in his arms.

My chest is pumping at a high rate now and I swear I thought he could hear it.

"I.N! I need you to go to the store please!" He asks like a little kitten which makes I.N smile.

"Okay hyung what do you need?"

"Just these and make sure you bring the fresh kind."

"Oh more crabs?! What's the occasion today?" He asks scratching the back of his head worried that maybe he forgot something.

"Hyunjin's bringing over his girlfriend."

Great.

"Oh I thought Y/n was Hyunjin's girlfriend?" He teases.

"Me too but I geuss not." Leeknow shrugs and continues his cooking shenanigans.

"Ugh! You guys are so annoying." I play it off trying not to have a whole mental breakdown infront of them. I.N nudges me and I nudge him back cause both of us to push each other back and forth.

"Yah!! I.N no time to talk go to the store please." Leeknow scolds us.

"Y/n, come with me?" He asks me while tugging on my sleeves.

"Fine," I say needing a distraction.

With that we left the house walking down the street to the small shop. The walk being quiet.

"I know you're hurt, you can talk to me." I hear him say.

"I'm not oppa. I'm really not." He holds my hand to stop us from walking and he looks down into my eyes making me shift uncomfortably. Making me want to break down in his arms.

"Baby girl I've known you for 3 years, I know when your sad, when your angry, when your happy, when your anxious and when you’re hurt. So don't lie to me."

My heart slows down as a tear slowly slides down my cheek. He looks at me at frowns.

"Oppa." I softly call him.

"Hey hey, it's okay let it out." And I did. I cried as he pulled me into his arms. I knew today was going to be a bad day. I knew it.

"Why? Why does he have to do this to me I.N? He calls me his wife, he takes me to these different restaurants and he treats me like his girlfriend. I-I thought that maybe there was a chance- ugh I'm so stupid! I knew he wouldn't want to date a foreigner! I fucking knew it-"

"Y/nie! No no no don't you say that. Hyunjin is the stupid one for not seeing he has and amazing girl right infront of him. If he can't see it, it's his loss Y/n. Never let a man, no matter what man, make you feel small because of their stupid actions. You're a queen. A beautiful strong girl. You deserve everything."

He wiped my tears and calls me down by rubbing my back.

“And the boys and I don’t see you as a foreigner Y/n I thought we discussed this. When we look at you we don’t see ‘Y/n the foreigner’ we see our bestfriend and that’s all,” his frown turns in a small smile.

"T-thank you." I hiccup making him to chuckle.

"You look so cute." He says probably looking at my red face. He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of me causing me to blush.

"Come on now, let's get some ice cream and deliver these goods to leeknow before he cooks us."

"O-okay." I smile and he intertwines our fingers as we walked to the store buying all the things leeknow needed and then buying ourselves some ice cream.

"You know the other day I dyed a blue spot on dori," he says in the middle of our conversation.

I burst out laughing, so hard tears start running down my cheeks.

"W-what?! How?! How does that happen?!"

"I was dying my hair and dori was in the bathroom and I thought. 'I wonder if this will work on her' then I did it. Hyung was pissed. I had to hide from him for a whole week. Not eating his food because I didn't know if it was poisoned or not."

Now I was struggling for air as I look at I.N's traumatized look.

"You're so stupid for that Jeo, he could have chocked you in your sleep! You know once I poured water on Chan's laptop." I.N gasps in horror making me almost piss myself.

"I thought I was going to heaven that day and he kept saying 'if this doesn't turn on you better find a new family or a new home' and I got on my knees and prayed to all the Gods. Luckily it turned on."

“Is that why you’re not allowed in his home studio?” He asks eyes wide opened.

“Yeah but sometimes I sneak in there to listen to tracks.” The conversation was so good that I hadn't realized we were back at the house.

"You played with your life that day cause Chan would have hanged you, killed you, murdered you and still take you out your casket and find a way to kill you again." He laughs and wipes the icecream off my face.

We stand in the corridor hand in hand and I give him a smile.

"Thank you for making me feel better I.N," I tell him. He leans down and kisses my forehead.

"Anything for my baby sister, now let's go start on those snacks shall we?" I nod and remove my shoes.

The wooden floors sending a shiver up my spine.

"Y/n! Where have you been? I wanted to say hi but couldn't find you anywhere!" Seungmin exclaims getting up from the couch.

"We went to the store silly!" He hugs me and we have a little catch up in the living room before I.N drags me to the kitchen where Leeknow stands in the same position with a knife in his hand.

"There you guys are! I thought you both got kidnapped." Leeknow says taking the stuff out our hands.

“Told you not to send both the youngest kids to the store alone! But you wouldn’t listen,” Chan glanced at us then back to his papers while shaking his head.

"Well you're welcome!" We both exclaim at the same time making leeknow side eye us and continue his work.

"Now go! I'm almost setting the table." He shoos us out of the 'his' kitchen and we make our way to the rest of the boys. I sat on the couch in between Changbin, who finally gives me a hug, and Han, who is so Baby girl he automatically puts his legs on mine and cuddles by my side.

“Let’s play!” Felix shouts out and puts the game onto the table. Everyone was chatting and drinking their beers and we all quiet down when we hear the front door open and close.

We hear voices coming towards our direction. Was it them?

#skz comfort #skz imagines #skz angst #skz drabbles #skz fluff #skz stay #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids drabbles #hyunjin x reader #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin

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genderstormwrites · 4 months ago

Text

"Go ahead, try them on." The redheaded girl handed me the faux spectacles, with their oddly tinted lenses.

"And these will help enhance the movie? Can you do 3D in your basement?" I held up the glasses skeptically. The thin film lenses were tinted a dark wine red. Nondescript cardboard frames held the cheap accessory together. I'd never been a big fan of gimmicky 3D effects in movies in the first place, but when a cute girl asks you on a movie night date at her place, you don't exactly say no.

"My projector is pretty cutting edge. But if you don't like the effects, you can always take them off. Now come on down and I'll introduce you to the girls." Girls? I had assumed this was just a one-on-one date, but maybe that was wishful thinking. I followed my host, Ambry, downstairs and into her den. Her house was quite impressive but I'd been led to believe after our brief conversation that she was pretty successful in the financial field, so it wasn't the greatest shock. It certainly made me feel a bit out of my league as I descended the elaborately ornamental spiral stairs into a large open room with a projector that probably cost more than I made in a year hanging from the ceiling. A large wrap-around couch wreathed the back and side walls of the room, and up front was a stark white wall with a screen and speakers. It was truly a dream room for a fan of films like myself.

Ambry introduced me to her friends, a tall blonde girl named Liette and a shorter girl with curly black hair, Jasper. The two women smiled as I entered the room, and I immediately noticed their bodies pressed against each other, lips still wet from what I could only assume was an intense kiss my arrival had interrupted.

"So this is the new girl, hm? She's very pretty, Ambie~" Jasper appraised me rather flirtatiously from her spot on the couch. Liette nodded along, staring into my eyes as my face lit up bright red. The compliments were, well... unexpected. But quite welcome as the two girls seemed to drink in my body.

"S-so what are we watching" I managed to stammer, hoping to change the subject quickly as the intense gazes of the two ladies gave me chills.

"Ambie never tells her guests what she's picked out. It's sort of tradition!" Liette practically sung her response. "Why don't you come sit next to me? I'd love to hold your hand if it's too scary, darling~"

"No, no, she should sit with me. I bet she has the cutest laugh if it's a comedy." Jasper patted the soft leather next to her and I almost couldn't help but feel drawn to her side. But a sudden hand on my shoulder made me freeze with a start.

"She'll be sitting with me, ladies. I invited her. She's all mine." The seductive whisper in my ear from Ambry practically overloaded my mind right there. Perhaps I was wrong about this being a date after all - it suddenly seemed so much more. Had I been pulled into a secret lesbian orgy without my knowledge? It was like my deepest fantasy, but I never thought it would be real. I could barely comprehend what was happening as our host dimmed the lights and pulled me to the couch along the back wall.

As the film started, I tried to pay attention to the plot, but my mind couldn't focus on the words being said. Instead, my attention was drawn to my host's breathing near my ear. Her arm draped around my shoulder. Her hand on my leg. Her cold body against my arm. I wanted to look at her, to see the expression on her face, but my eyes were glued forward, the strange glasses seemingly pulling my attention to the screen. The action and dialogue of the movie seemed irrelevant as my mind was pulled to the most peculiar details: the cup of wine on the table. The moon through the window. The stain on the carpet. The eyes in the picture frame. The spiraling lights in every scene.

"This is your favorite movie, isn't it thrall?"

"Yes, Mistress" my voice answered back, not waiting for my mind to decide.

"And what's your favorite part, baby?"

"When Mistress feeds."

"Good girl."

And so she did. The pricks in my neck made my eyes flutter as I stared forward. The only color on the screen was red as my blood slowly drained from my veins. Mistress ran her hands through my hair and along my body, claws scraping my skin as I succumbed to her bite. Was this why I came? Had this been the plan from the start? Why was I so relaxed and eager.

"Listen to her moan, girls. She's so far gone."

Had I been moaning? Did they want me to continue? How much blood had she taken? Was I going to die?

I barely noticed Jasper before her teeth sunk into my wrist. She drank and I moaned for her. I knew the tone and volume she loved as if it were instinct. Whatever would keep her satisfied. Keep her feeding.

Liette's teeth sunk into my thigh before I realized that my skirt had been torn, my underwear soaked. Her pale cheek so close to my soft bulge. She reached up and caressed me so tenderly as she sampled from her favorite spot. My moaning changed to song as she controlled my every thought with her bite.

Mistress and her thralls sucked until my eyes could no longer behold the screen through her special frames. I blacked out for unknowable periods of time. Each time I awoke, caressed by soft leather and cold hands and smeared in blood. I felt their tongues lick me clean. Their teeth suck me dry. Their words melt me away.

"I'm done, Mistress" is all I could utter.

"We know, darling. Now rest."

#vampire #hypnosis #mind control #tw blood

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exquisiteserotonin · 10 days ago

Text

Precious Possessions Chapter 11: I Guess Time Makes Fools of Us All

Previous |Next | Masterlist

Series Summary: Defense intelligence conferences are always the same informative but also always boring. You didn't expect anything different for this one, but an unexpected meeting with a man named Dave York, changes the trajectory of your conference experience and maybe even more.

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader (Original Female Character)

Rating: Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Word Count: 5031

Chapter Summary: Firefly has the chance to prove herself to be an integral part of Dave’s team. Met with resistance from Dave’s cronies sets up a series of events that no one will be able to escape from.

Warning: This chapter is incredibly PLOT heavy as is my tradition, apparently. There’s lots of intrigue and power dynamics at play here. Lovahs, we have here cunnilingus, unprotected PiV, cream pie. Be smart, wrap it up. Angst. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own. Please be kind.

A/N: If you are here and you are reading this I’m so glad you still want to read. A lot has happened in my life and writing has been a struggle. I don’t want to lose the ability to do so again. Even though it’s been nearly a year, this story is ALWAYS on my mind. Thank you to everyone who still believes in my work, especially my sluts

@youandmeand5bucks @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @for-a-longlongtime @magpiepills

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @sheepdogchick3 @casa-boiardi @missladym1981 @untamedheart81 @drewharrisonwriter @guelyury

Chapter 11: I Guess Time Makes Fools of Us All

The warehouse where you met the team was in the dingiest of locations: quiet, nondescript, and unextraordinary to the outward eye. Within the warehouse was a makeshift office, complete with a conference table, a tall counter with a docking station for laptops, and a projector which used the plain white wall as a screen. The aggressive, testosterone-driven nature of Dave’s team heightened the cold, formal atmosphere of the space.

You presented a dossier on your computer and promptly shared it to the wall through the projector and started on an explanation for Ari, Kovacs, and Dave. In his typical fashion, Resnik had not yet arrived. Having no patience for the man and his misogyny, you thought to yourself: Good riddance.

“You’re on the table, ace,” Dave stated with authority, gesturing for you to hand the report and intel on the men you’d encountered in Italy.

He held his gaze on you with the smallest, most unnoticeable yet arrogant smirk on the corner of his lips. On the table, indeed. You’d been there many times on your back, legs spread out wide as his tongue dipped, swirled, and devoured you and as his cock drove into you. On top of the table, bent over, tits pressed firmly onto the dark wood as he dug his hands into your hips while he railed you from behind. And again, on the occasions where Dave gave you control, he lay sprawled on the table as you bounced on his cock until he was crying out your name.

Pivoting back to your presentation and the dossiers you provided, you provided further details about the two men who’d cornered and attacked the waitress while you were on leave in Altomonte.

“The syndicate goes deep,” you began, your voice unwavering in its confidence. “They’ve been heavily involved in the trafficking of young women and girls. The intelligence shows them making moves to grander prospects based on new alliances they’ve made with organized crime clans from other countries. I surmise they plan to diversify into arms dealing.”

A huff of air left Dave’s throat as you spoke. You observed his every move: a rubbing of his shirt sleeve, his furrowed brow that led to darker eyes, a crossing of arms before he lifted his right hand to his chin. He leaned forward, looked at the screen and then back to you. A glimmer concealed to everyone, but you shined in his dark eyes. He looked back at you again, the faint droop of his eyelids telling you he still needed more insurance. He challenged you with a look, just as he challenged you the moment you met him. Just as you knew he always would.

“You know I need to ask,” Dave began, each word steeped in the deep gravel of his voice. “Do you have the logistics or the technicalities?”

You knew he was never one to assume anyone had everything in order.

“I have all the names and numbers for the clients,” you informed him and his men, “all assets are set and the good faith fee is ready to be transferred to our account the moment you give the word.”

Dave’s eyebrows rose a millimeter upward. Any remnants of ease slipped away until the muscles of your chest tightened. The breaths built up in the back of your throat as though someone was grabbing your vocal chords. You worked quickly to bring up the contract, the payment bold and hefty, waiting to make their pockets heavy. His eyes beheld the amount and his entire body turned to yours in response. His body language conveyed more than words could. He started walking towards you, heel to toe, heel to toe, with that look on his face. You’d have taken him right then and there if it was just the two of you. It would be a gift for him entrusting you in securing this contract. As he pulled his hand from his pocket to bring it toward yours, a loud whoosh echoed around you as the warehouse door flew open. Resnik’s short, quick strides hit your eardrums like a petulant bee buzzing around your head.

He barely offered you a glance as he tossed a folder onto the table, where it slid squarely in Dave’s line of sight. His eyes shifted from the folder to you, and then to Resnik.

“I think you should look at this,” he taunted you with a smirk, “before you make any final decisions.”

With as hard as you were clenching your fists, your knuckles grew white and your fingernails dug deep imprints on the inside of your palms. A tight feeling gripped at your chest as Dave reached for the folder. Each move he made happened in slow motion from the moment he opened the folder to the way his brows furrowed as his eyes scanned the documents within. His eyes met yours for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching before they settled on Resnick.

He set the folder down, leaned over the table, and lowered his head. Your eyes stayed on him, following his every move. Each purse of his lips, each shift of his eyes, and the heavy press of his palms so firmly in front of him said more than anything that Resnick or any of his other lackeys could even fathom.

“Antoine Calbert?” Dave voiced, the raspiness coming deep from his throat as he tilted his head slowly at Resnick. “That’s a precarious target, considering his background.”

“Everything already checks out, York,” Resnick replied, a smug smirk forming on his face. “Our client really understands the need for discretion.”

The slightest rise and fall of his shoulders as he crossed his arms over his chest barely revealed his frustration. Your eyes met for a millisecond, seeing the frustration grow and you were certain he saw the same grow in your eyes. If he was hesitant, it was for a good reason. Your shared gaze must have been a moment too long, a moment long enough for Resnick to notice.

With a low voice, he challenged, “Stop thinking with your dick, man.”

“Say that again,” Dave challenged, making himself even larger in front of Resnick’s slight frame.

“Dave don’t—,” you called out as a warning before he brought himself to a place where he couldn’t turn back.

“He is an attaché for the D.I.A,” he stated, his words formed from the air that seethed through his teeth.

And they silenced you. You understood the implications and the danger of having a target well known to him and to every close colleague he’s ever had. You shuddered to think of the consequences if any of it led back to him. Turning to Resnick, you observed the smugness of his demeanor. It screamed in the way he crossed his arms over his chest to how he lifted his chin up just so he had a semblance of looking down upon Dave, despite his short stature. The way he lifted his right brow at a sharp angle was a futile way of proving himself his equal. Disgusting—all of it.

“Two million,” Resnick responded plainly.

A twitch and a squint of Dave’s eyes changed his expression. “What did you say?”

“Two million, Dave,” he spoke as his shoulders rose and as he puffed out his puny chest, “TWO MILLION has already been wired to the offshore account.”

And in that briefest of moments, you swore you saw Resnick turn to you just long enough to give you the most grotesque and arrogant smirk. Despite the transience of it, you felt every bit of contempt that filtered through the dry skin on his thin lips. When you turned to Dave you felt your stomach churn and flip. You felt dizzy, as if you’d spun around many times on a theme park teacup ride. You tried to focus on Dave through it as the gears of consideration shone in the glimmer of his deep eyes.

He made himself taller as a reminder of his authority over Resnick. With the expansive palm of his hand, he rubbed at his chin in contemplation before resting a fist on the conference table.

“It has to be a clean job,” Dave offered with unwavering command. “There can be no mistakes with this one.”

“Dave, you can’t be se —,” before you could even finish the breadth of your words, he suppressed you with a dismissive wave of his hand and his gravelly voice stomped over yours.

“Do I make myself clear?”

He waited for the silent nods of compliance from his men. Each blind follow came so quickly, like dominos falling one after another, and it stirred the sickness in you. Save for Resnick, each filed out of the warehouse, one after another like little ants. You took the moment to move towards Dave.

It felt like your eyes were about to bore through your eyelids as hard as you were glaring at him. He returned his own glare to you, haughty and unyielding, as he tried to win you over with a study of your body and a lick of his lips. The faint aroma of the dissipated remnants of his cologne along with his deodorant, and him, threatened to intoxicate you.

“What the fuck was that?” Resnick’s voice pierced the air coming at you and Dave like an arrow trying to pierce your throat.

Dave’s eyes squinted with critical scrutiny at Resnick’s pushback. Resnick pressed his palms against the laminate surface of the conference table as he looked back at Dave and then at you. His eyes were slick with disdain and the wrinkles on his lips twitched with indignation.

“You’re losing touch, man.” Resnick said, each word pushed out from his mouth, trying to press themselves on both you and Dave.

“Hmph,” Dave smirked, “tell me again: how long has it been since you brought in a job this lucrative?”

“Really, York?” Resnick laughed at the air in the room. “That’s what you’re coming back with when this is the biggest payoff we’ll have had in ages.”

“With a well-known, trusted DIA affiliate as a target,” you jumped in with an even, calm voice.

You kept your back turned to Resnick as you acknowledged him with a simple peek over your shoulder. He met your response with a roll of his eye, clicking his tongue on the inside of his mouth like a petulant child.

“I would hope that I didn’t have to remind you of what would happen if anything traced back to us---to Dave.”

“What the fuck is she even doing here?” Resnick retorted with a shake of his head.

“What good is two million if you’re in prison,” you paused, “or worse?”

“She knows more than any of us about defense intelligence,” Dave chimed in. “Her expertise has been invaluable to our work, and she’s sharp for being with us for such a short amount of time.”

“Well, I should’ve known,” Resnick murmured with a grimace, “she really got to you, brother.”

Impossible as it seemed to you, you grew even more and more disgusted by Dave’s supposed right-hand man. The chuckle that echoed out of the depths of his throat forced you to hold your breath as your anger quivered the corners of your lips.

“You know,” you laughed at him in return, “it’s a wonder you guys even finished any of your jobs without me.”

“Firefly---,” Dave uttered as he observed you whipping around to face Resnick.

You didn’t let him finish as you advanced towards Resnick, “and judging from your poor aim, you really needed me.”

“Well damn, Dave,” Resnick raised his brow at him before he looked you up and down, “what else can she do with that pretty little mouth?”

Beneath the disgust, boiled an anger that started from your stomach, rose through your chest, and percolated in your throat. Your shoulders trembled as you steadied your stance and maneuvered your feet into a strong and offensive position. As though he heard you readying of your stance beneath you, Dave held you back with a firm press of his palm to your forearm. Your brow wrinkled deep in the middle with rage as you turned your face to his.

“Time for you to leave Resnick,” Dave’s voice was as steady as an old tree rooted deep in the ground.

Resnick clicked the inside of his mouth again with a loud tut of his tongue. You heard the breathy and condescending snort that emanated from his throat and expired through his nose. He nodded to Dave, before turning on his heel to leave.

“Get the job done, no mistakes,” Dave warned him as he departed through the warehouse door with nothing more than a dismissive wave of his hand in acknowledgement.

You rested your hands against the cold conference table and released a deep sigh. You tried to soften your jaw that hardened as you grit your teeth with frustration. It was then that Dave turned back to you, an uncommonly soft expression on his face. As he stepped in close, you felt his body heat as he pressed himself behind you. He settled his hands beside yours, breathing in your scent as he waited for you to rest back against him.

But not today.

As he stretched his fingers to your forearm, you snapped your arm away and pushed past him.

“What the fuck, Dave?”

He stood clueless and frozen before you, his arms hanging loosely at his sides as he awaited further explanation. An uncontrollable twitch moved at the corners of your lips. Was an explanation really necessary? Were you giving him too much credit?

And at this thought, you spoke, “Well, that was a funny way of showing you trust me.”

He bowed his head with the deepest of sighs. Every move he made towards you held more caution than the last. When you didn’t pull away, he settled his hands on your hips until they found themselves securely on your tailbone. His expression spoke more to you than any words. A gentle acknowledgment of an apology and a deeper one of trust as he rested his head against yours. It might have been tender if he hadn’t pulled your pelvis closer to his to feel him grow. Limp in his arms, you looked up at him, your stare boring into him.

“Isn’t this enough?” The grit in his voice traveled down every nerve ending of your body like sand slipping down an hourglass.

“Can you be serious, York?” You pushed back and stepped away from him.

“You haven’t been with the team long enough to remember the last time we got a pay out that big.”

“But I’ve been in the field long enough to know that this is more than a calculated risk,” you said as you backed further from him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “If one thing goes wrong, everything will…and that is something you cannot afford.”

“Why are you so certain that this won’t go as planned?”

“Why are you so certain it will?”

“I have confidence in my team.”

“Yeah?” You tried to stifle a smirk, the corners of your mouth twitching downward to a frown. “If it’s taken them this long to find a decent job, then maybe your confidence is misplaced.”

Dave’s response was silence. You, with nothing more to say, shrugged and shook your head. His infuriating inability to concede to any possibility of error on his part deserved nothing more from you.

You didn’t dare to look back at him as you left the warehouse. The frustration that coursed through you was so volatile that it wrinkled the space between your brows as you frowned. It percolated and shook you at your core. As it grew, it felt like the shivers that came from a biting cold and windy night.

You tried to push the useless feeling away once you arrived at home. A light dinner. A hot shower. A glass of wine. They were everything, and all you needed to remind yourself that you would never be responsible for Dave’s failure. And you reminded yourself you could never count on him for your opportunities and success…not that you ever did.

The burner phone you possessed at the moment rested comfortably atop your quartz countertops. Its clean perfection held a haunting quality as it rested alongside the plain manila document envelope that held all the dossiers of the targets you had solely put together. You couldn’t stop staring at it, thinking of each person who wanted you, hiring you, holding money at the ready for YOU. Sharing your spoils with Dave was one thing, but you shuddered at the possibility of having to share it with the imbeciles he so blindly trusted.

At that, you picked up the phone and dialed your contact, finalizing everything in ten minutes for a job that was rightfully your own. The immediate relief you felt after you hung up was a welcome friend. The comfort held you like a warm hug, despite knowing that anxiety and excitement would only ramp up the closer you got to the day you’d finish the job. Sleep might’ve come to you if you hadn’t heard the doorbell startle you from your peace.

A sigh escaped you, knowing it could only be one person. No one ever came to you, no one else had the need. You sauntered to the door, a nearly empty glass of wine in one hand while the other held your bathroom closed at the chest.

The moment you opened the door, the two of you shuddered a simultaneous breath at the sight of one another as though in anger or frustration you wanted each other the most.

“Since when did you knock?” You teased as you left the door wide open for him.

He locked the door behind him, leaving his suit jacket on the coat rack by the front door. He loosened his tie and tossed it on a nearby armchair. Taking the wine glass from your hand, he finished the remnants of the deep red wine within. He kept his eyes on you as he licked the remnants left on his lips before he placed the empty glass on your kitchen counter.

You looked up at him as he brushed away a strand of hair from your face before pulling you to the living room. He sat down comfortably on your couch before pulling you by the waist to him.

“The team left not too long ago,” he spoke of it as though it were an afterthought, his hands more focused on loosening the bathrobe tie around your waist.

“Ok,” was all you could reply.

You hated them.

They hated you.

Dave’s touch was all that mattered in this moment, anyway.

Your breaths quickened as you felt the fabric loosen from your waist and hips as cool draft air danced over your skin. He looked up at you, beholding your face with adoration and longing. You observed how his breath synced rapidly with your own as he tugged at the sleeves, letting the robe cascade from your body and onto the floor. Soon he was on his knees, as he caressed your thighs and ass with his ample hands.

He took in your scent, kissing just below your belly button, and with one swift movement, he hoisted your leg over his shoulder. His lips found the beautiful set of lips set before him, kissing them lightly before drawing a slow wet trail at your slit with the tip of his tongue. You throbbed for him as he sucked your folds before drawing a deep, thick line along your opening.

He took his time there as always, holding on to your thighs and your ass as tightly as he could as if doing so would save his life. Tasting you, devouring you, drinking you was his lifeline. You felt it with each deep slow swirling of his tongue inside you and how his thick fingers pressed your lips open to find your sensitive bud, flicking and swirling the tip of his tongue with so much attention that your legs shook beneath you and you had no choice but grasp tightly to his hair.

With a deep, throaty laugh and a growl, he took the briefest of respites.

“Lie down,” he demanded as he gestured towards your couch.

So delirious for Dave and his touch, you couldn’t even register how quickly you had complied. You barely caught a breath before he pushed your knees toward your chest and worshipped you with his tongue again and again. You didn’t have to drive your hips to his face as he pulled you deeper into him. The inevitable pressure was rising within you as you moaned, writhed, and became a wet mess upon him. Every nerve ending in your body lit from within as he consumed you. You wanted to scream, cry, perhaps both at the same time as you arched your back and grabbed at the surrounding pillows, feeling the wave of pleasure erupting at your core.

“Oh god, oh god,” you cried and writhed beneath Dave, “Ohh,fuuuuck!”

He kept his tongue on slowly responding to your climax, keeping your taste on his lips as you jolted from the aftershocks of ecstasy. You looked down at him, caressing the messy brown locks on his head. He smiled and admired his handy work with his gaze and the pads of his fingers.

He leaned over and kissed you, his face, mouth, and tongue still wet from you. He pulled your body close. With subtle coaxing of his hand, he urged you to grip to his neck before he scooped you up in his arms.

He carried you to your bedroom and tossed you wantonly on to the bed before he discarded his clothes in a corner. You propped yourself up with your right arm, admiring his whole being as he slid next to you in bed. His body shadowed yours as he moved to kiss you, pressing his body to you, urging you to feel how he had grown in need of you. His fingers traced the curve of your breasts, your hips, and then waist.

“I noticed your file on the kitchen counter,” he murmured as his fingers grazed your belly until they moved around your waist to grab your ass. “You took the job.”

“You want to talk about this now?” You exhaled, as he pushed your legs open with one knee.

“Let me finish,” he growled as he tugged at the back of your hair so you had no choice but to keep your gaze and face to his.

A breathy gasp escaped your mouth as he ground his body on yours. The feeling of him on you and not in you stoked the flame that was already inside you. He licked and nipped your neck until his lips settled on your earlobe and you felt him align his hard, throbbing cock to your slick and trembling opening.

“No one deserved that job and the spoils that come with it more than you.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond before he pushed deep into you. You clutched his back with a possessive and sharp grasp while your walls clung to his cock as he throbbed and moved inside you. He thrusted to the rhythm of your body until your intimate dance shifted the mattress and shook your bed frame. The air filled with the scent of your sex and a chorus of your moans.

“Fuck, always wanna come in you,” Dave fought to get out the words as he thrusted quicker, messier, harder.

“Pl—-please,” you begged as you squeezed around him, a twitch away from the point of no return.

“Fuck, — so tight,” he growled and grunted as he drove and spilled into you.

You let out a long, loud cry and held him closer to you, the aftershocks shaking your body. A gasp and a bittersweet feeling of emptiness came from both of you as he pulled out. He rolled to his back and pulled you into the crook of his arm.

“Carol isn’t expecting me.”

With a smirk, you swung your legs over his and buried your head into his bare chest.

“I guess you better stay then.”

Sleep came easy that night, like a quiet, yet eerie calm that filled the air and played so many like a fool before an incoming storm.

***

The incessant and shrill sound of a ringtone jolted you awake. You groaned and shifted in bed to see Dave sitting up to reach for his work, not personal, phone. You sat up with him, pressing your chest to his back, while you wrapped your arms around his waist. He rubbed his eyes and settled them over the dimly lit screen. In an instant, his posture stiffened with his shoulders and back tensing against your gentle touch. His free hand that had been gently caressing your arm tightened around it.

He answered, “York here.”

“Dave, we have a situation.”

A woman’s voice echoed out from the phone. Not Carol’s. Her voice held rationale, composure, and professionalism. It rattled every nerve in your body even more than if it had been her.

“What’s going on, chief?”

Susan. You knew of her and all the impressive things Dave had shared about her. How much she helped Dave and his family. How smart she was. How good at her job she was. How her blind morality disgusted him. Yet, the specter of her competence lingered in the corner, watching your every move.

“I need you on a call in ten minutes, Dave.”

He harrumphed playfully and teased, “Is that all you’re gonna give me, Susan?”

“It’s all you need,” you heard her pause with a sigh that held a hint of sadness, “I wouldn’t have called you if it was nothing.”

“No, you’re right,” he acknowledged, the corners of his brows scrunching toward one another. “See you shortly.“

The screen on his phone turned to black, and he leaned his head back to you with a long, calculated breath.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you whispered, pressing your head to his.

“Just some more run-of-the-mill DIA bullshit,” he grunted, before pressing himself off your bed.

He gathered his clothes, pulling them on as neatly as he could. The lust shined in his eyes as he stared at you, naked, your sheets merely an accessory to emphasize each soft curve of your body. He hurriedly buttoned up his shirt and tucked it neatly into his navy blue trousers. He gestured for you to come to him. You crawled to the edge of the bed and pushed yourself to rest on your knees and look at him. A frustration grew at your core, sending an unsettling shiver over your body. Sensing it, Dave pushed your mussed waves from your face, setting his hand gently at your neck before pulling you in for a long, eager kiss.

“Watch yourself,” you whispered to him firmly.

“It’ll be fine.”

“Fill me in when you’re done?”

“You got it, Firefly.”

The next two hours left you pacing around the house. Distraction. What you needed was a distraction. You listened to music, started a puzzle, and even went for a fucking jog. You showered, dressed, and paced again. The irony of it all was that looking at your files again for your job was the one thing you had control over. A strange calm filled you as reflected on it, your confidence growing with the knowledge you would finish it and do it well. Better than anyone.

As you exhaled, Dave came through the door, and you stood to meet him. The seconds you beheld each other felt like hours. He twitched his lips and tapped his fingers repeatedly on the inside of his palms. You held your breath waiting for the words to leave his mouth to ease the tension

“I have to go to Brussels.”

The words left you breathless, as though someone had punched you in the gut. Someone had made a mistake. What else could it have been? The thoughts in your brain raced as you tried to find the best way to respond that wouldn’t make you seem overbearing and paranoid.

“That doesn’t seem like the best of ideas.” You spoke slowly as your brain continued to process the turn of events.

“I really don’t have a choice.”

“Let them figure it out, Dave!” You urged. “They fucked something up. You know they did. Don’t fall with them.”

“It’ll be more suspicious if I don’t go.” He pointed out.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you stated, hearing the pitch of your voice rise in frustration. “You have more to lose than any of them.”

“I can salvage it,” he asserted, absent-mindedly gathering his briefcase and barely listening to you. “There’s too much on the line.”

” For fuck’s sake, Dave, are you even listening to me or yourself?” You rushed to him and grabbed him by the shoulders before gliding your hands to his face. “You told me once that collateral damage is messy. Don’t be their collateral damage.”

Tears of anger and frustration formed at the corners of your eyes. Their appearance garnered more anger towards yourself. The feeling of showing vulnerability in front of Dave sent an electrical fire of emotions that coursed between your brain and heart. The futility of persuading him to understand the threat his arrogance posed on him left you devoid of any sort of hope.

“Listen, Firefly,” he said before pulling you close to press his lips deeply upon yours.

As you tasted him through the saltiness of tears paired with the faint aroma and taste of sweet tobacco that seemed to appear in the most stressful of moments.

When was the last time he had smoked?

“I am going to make this work.”

He reluctantly loosened his embrace from you with the speed of loris, his fingertips the last thing to break the bonds that held you together. As he closed the door behind him, the silence pounded against you. His words: a haunting promise you knew he could never keep.

#dave york x you #dave york #dave york x f!reader #juice collective #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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franklyimissparis · 9 months ago

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jet skis on the moat: a queer-coded line-by-line lyrical analysis

this one was highly requested by me, myself, and i btw. sorry it’s so long, i truly cannot be concise when analysing alex’s lyrics, i get too into all of the different possibilities lmao.

Jet skis on the moat

- the titular line of the song is an interesting juxtaposition that could be interpreted in many different ways as jet-skiing, an adventurous and adrenaline-seeking activity, is contrasted with the defensive confines of a moat. the moat could be a metaphor for alex’s defenses around himself and his feelings, with the idea of jet-skiing around a moat being akin to doing something that should be fun and freeing while in defence mode.

- it could also imply that things are going in circles, like moats often do. that they’re having a good time but they aren’t able/willing to explore beyond the safety and comfort of their private spaces.

- to me, the phrase also invokes the idea of both being kept close to home (and never allowed to explore without inhibitions) but also being forbidden to enter fully into alex’s inner self

They shot it all in CinemaScope

- cinemascope is a lens adapter invented in the 50s for projectors that can expand the traditional screen to a wider length while using the existing equipment. we know that alex loves film imagery and this ties into the themes he often plays at while using said imagery of performance vs. reality.

- the use of cinemascope also implies to me the idea of making something (or someone) better for a bigger audience - this could tie in with alex’s personas and hiding the true self or referencing the band’s commercial successes. it also implies that there’s something beyond the traditional screen, the picture (or story) stretches out further than is seen with a normal lens. the idea of the lens being removable is also notable, the picture can be seen either way with the original equipment but the lens makes it more impressive. again i think this all ties in with the idea of performance and choosing to present things in a certain light.

- “they” implies that there is an audience or crew watching alex and the subject of the song, the two of them are not shooting this together, it’s being captured by a third party who is presenting things differently than originally intended

As though it's the last time you're gonna ride

- i can’t talk about this line without addressing the sexual undertones of the word “ride” lol. it could refer to the sexual aspect of their relationship, the last ride being the last time they’ll sleep together, or the relationship itself as if this is a couple who has split up and gotten back together multiple times

- with the previous line as well, it implies that the experience of their relationship is being captured (potentially by others) to preserve it, though they don’t see the full picture

- the phrasing “as though” is vague enough to leave it up to interpretation as to whether or not it actually will be the last time, somewhat implying to me that calling it a “last time” is something they’ve done before

- this could also refer to the public and private speculation that the band is finished or the somewhat unfounded worries that their commercial success is slipping away

Showstoppers anonymous

- this is a play on alcoholics anonymous/narcotics anonymous and implies that being a showstopper is somewhat of an addiction. it also invokes the idea that this isn’t a solitary experience by referencing the idea like a group meeting, alex’s lover also has a complex relationship with fame.

- the phrase could also poke at the idea of alex’s personas being disconnected from his true self, the showstopper would actually prefer to be (or has to be) anonymous in some sense.

- like in AA meetings, this could also refer to hiding their affiliation from the world or hiding their true identities within these meet-ups

Come over here and give your buddy a hug

- the word “buddy” implies a platonic relationship (i would say it also implies a friendship with another man but that’s very subjective.) with the later references to this person as a lover, we can infer that their relationship is not just platonic which poses the question of why alex would choose to refer to a lover this way. it could be to emphasise the friendship at the core of the relationship as being the more important or prominent aspect. it could also suggest that alex finds the romantic/sexual elements of the relationship uncomfortable to some extent.

- interestingly, this line is also a direct parallel to “come here and kiss me now before it gets too cute” from mr schwartz, suggesting a connection between the two. while this line can certainly be read as platonic, the line from mr schwartz is explicitly romantic.

- also the first two lines of verse one rhyme, making the listener expect these lines to rhyme as well. in alex’s pronunciation, anonymous would be a near rhyme with kiss and it is slightly surprising to hear hug instead.

So much for decidin' not to let it slide

- it sounds as though either alex or his lover feels that the other did something to wrong them which they refuse to forgive this time, but they end up ‘giving in’ eventually.

- in the context of the showstoppers anonymous line, it could imply that their relationship feels like enabling an addiction, that it is something they come back to time and time again despite saying they won’t. and also that their relationship is directly tied to the fame that they share.

- also interesting to ask: is he addressing himself or his lover? is he the one letting it slide or his lover? the previous line seems to imply that alex is asking the other person to come to him, which could imply that his lover is giving in for agreeing or that he’s giving in by reaching out (or both.)

Is there somethin' on your mind

Or are you just happy to sit there and watch While the paint job dries?

- alex’s lover is troubled over the state of their situation but it’s less painful to just ignore the topic.

- the paint imagery is very interesting as alex has a habit of using paint as a sexual metaphor for a certain bodily fluid - with ‘body paint’ and also in anyways (‘you go hard in the paint’)

- watching paint dry generally refers to something being boring or tedious which could imply that alex’s lover would rather do something painfully dull than discuss the issues in their relationship. but paint can also be used to cover things up which could refer to the idea of hiding the issues within the relationship or with hiding the relationship itself (asking: are you really happy to just let me hide things or will you take a stand?)

- if we think about the implication that this relationship has been off- and on-again, it could refer to ‘fixing up’ the relationship with a new coat of paint - doing surface level things to try to repair the damage - and alex could be asking if they’re willing to wait for things to look better again or if they want to call it quits now

When it's over, you're supposed to know

- this line could also be taken in many ways. it could be in the sense of alex feeling almost pitiful for his lover (or himself), who won’t admit that their relationship is actually over. but it could also refer to it being hard to tell whether the relationship is actually over or not - particularly if the line between having a platonic/romantic relationship has always been blurry with them (like we see with the use of “buddy” etc.)

- the phrasing ‘supposed to know’ implies that they don’t actually know about the state of things, though they’re both aware that they should, also reminds me of the line “the fact that neither you and i has ever had a clue” from mr schwartz

Lights out in the Wonder Park

- i couldn’t find anything to suggest that the ‘wonder park’ refers to any real place so i would wager that it’s alex’s take on a fictional amusement park as a metaphor for the ups and downs of his relationship with the other person.

- the idea of the lights going out in contrast to the “wonder park” implies that the joy and amazement of the relationship has been turned off. it could refer to the relationship being off- and on-again with the implication that the lights will likely turn back on at some point. (which could be connected to “the gloved hand’s reaching in to hit the switch” from mr schwartz)

- to me, “the wonder park” also implies having an audience or crowd around. so lights out here could also refer to stopping a performance, etc.

Your saw-toothed lover boy was quick off the mark

- its interesting to pose if he’s talking about himself or his lover here. i know a lot of people interpret saw-toothed to mean crooked teeth like a certain musical partner in alex’s life but i think the phrase could also represent a ‘sharp tongue/mouth’ with the idea of him (or his lover) normally being witty or cutting but being caught off guard by the situation (similar to the ‘angle grinder smile’ from sculptures of anything goes)

- “quick off the mark” means to be slow to react to a situation which could also tie in with the idea of “watching paint dry” instead of talking about the relationship: they’re reluctant to actually change the back and forth element of their relationship.

- the use of the phrase “lover boy” also solidifies that this is a relationship that is at least somewhat romantic/sexual in nature (vs the earlier use of buddy), it’s telling that this more intimate phrase isn’t used until later in the song

That's long enough in the sunshine for one night

- this line could reference the idiom of something to “seeing the light of day” i.e. to be revealed to the public/to be open, their relationship won’t see the light of day with the sunshine instead being found in the nights

- sunshine could also represent a warmth or happy period in their relationship. with the previous lines, it could imply that they got together/met up again briefly but it didn’t last.

- the phrase “that’s long enough” implies that alex is the one to feel as though things have gone on too long, even though he feels the warmth of it too (he likes the sunshine (or relationship) but he doesn’t think it belongs in the context of the night)

Didn't recognise you through the smoke

- this is a play on the idea of “smoke and mirrors” which ties in with alex’s use of personas and the idea of obscuring the truth.

- implies that alex (or the other person) is used to being able to see through the fantasy but it’s been dialled up since their falling out and they are now obscured.

- could also refer to one of them being deceptive about their feelings, particularly for the other

- also could imply the other person is smoking a lot, etc. which could tie in with the idea of fame/their relationship being an addiction: people sometimes replace heavier drugs with excessive nicotine as a step in their recovery. it could also just imply that the other person is a bit of a mess if they’ve started smoking more.

Pyjama pants and a Subbuteo cloak

- subbuteo is a table-top game where you flick around little football players on a field that is placed similarly to a tablecloth. there was an interview where alex spoke about how he would wear the table-top subbuteo pitch as a cape as a kid. it’s unclear whether alex or the other person is meant to be the one wearing the unusual combination.

- wearing pyjama pants implies a sense of intimacy and vulnerability between the two to see each other in that state, especially as one would not generally wear them in public.

- the combination of the pyjama pants with the subbuteo cloak invokes a sense of nostalgia and innocence, particularly in relation to alex’s memories, as well as implies that the person is kind of dysfunctional to be wearing a sleeping garment in combination with a non-clothing item.

- the use of the subbuteo field as clothing is also interesting as it is a traditionally masculine symbol being used to cover-up or guard oneself - which ties in with the next line.

- the subbuteo field is also an interesting choice as the game centres around people controlling a full team of players in order to win. with one person wearing the field, it could imply that they are being strategic about controlling others or that they themselves are being controlled.

You know that it's alright if you wanna cry

- this is another line that could easily apply to either alex or his lover but i think it ties in well with the first line from there’d better be a mirrorball “don’t get emotional, that’s not like you” which alex has said is directed at himself.

- alex is telling himself or his lover that it’s okay to express their emotions and be upset about the situation, implying that they usually are not as forthcoming or overtly emotional or that they may be hiding their true feelings in the presence of the other to appear less invested or devastated

to summarise: alex and his lover had a falling out over their off- and on-again relationship going in circles and potentially being hidden. neither of them took the split well and they are trying to figure out where they stand with each other and what their connection will mean for them now.

#impressed if you stuck around for all of this!#been having a lot of fun looking way too deeply into every word lmao #if any of you have specific suggestions for songs to analyse feel free to let me know 😈#alex turner #milex #miles kane #arctic monkeys #the car album #jet skis on the moat #lyric analysis #queer-coded lyrical analysis

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