#but the problem is as I said I don't make nearly enough money to feel comfortable reducing my hours any more as badly as I want to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

badasbebi · 4 months

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imagination's curse

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✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: you long for excitement in your mundane life, until you are suddenly visited by a strange, beautiful woman who upends your world and thrusts you into a whirlwind of pleasure and danger.

✦ genre/au: smut (MDNI!!), succubus!bada, basically pwp

✦ word count: 6k

✦ warnings: probably has grammatical/spelling errors, mentions of demons and occult activities, top!bada (she's doing all the work), fingering, cunnilingus, bit of thigh riding, y/n is a weakling, somebody dies (or do they?)

✦ a/n: this is very different from other fics I've written, in genre and length, because after watching bebe's imagination video on repeat, i decided to temporarily drop the other fic i was working on to write this! we will be getting back to the more simple (and long) fics I've written before, but i hope you guys still enjoy this in the meantime! i purposely left this open-ended in case i, or you guys, wanted to see a continuation of this story at some point. lmk if that would be of interest to y'all!

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Beyond the restaurant windows, rain pounds against the earth. The rhythmic drumming of the rain lulls you into a trance-like state, eyes glossing over and body becoming numb. The soft jazz music coming from the speakers overhead only enhances your drowsiness, making you melt into your seat like heated wax. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand and stare out at the street, watching cars pass by and disappear into the darkness. Your eyelids become heavy and you blink, attempting to bring your attention back to the real world, and, probably most importantly, the person in front of you.

You sigh, slouching forward in your chair. Your date, Seolhyun, has been droning on for the last twenty minutes about her schoolwork. Her mouth is moving, but your mind isn't registering her words. You can't bring yourself to care. She seems somewhat nice, and she's devastatingly pretty, but those were about the only two qualities of value that you could conjure up. This wouldn't have been so bad, if this date hadn't essentially turned into a one-sided conversation she was having with herself. You don't think you've said more than three words since the both of you sat down.

"Like, nursing is so boring and depressing. I don't get why so many people are into it," she says, taking a bite of her food. "I want to do something interesting and fresh, like, modeling, or something. Or, maybe I'll switch my major to art. I take really good pictures of my friends. Isn't there a photography concentration in the arts program?"

Seolhyun looks over at you expectantly, waiting for your input. You have no idea what the answer is, so you just shrug and give her a fake, tight-lipped smile.

"Yeah, you know what? I think I'm gonna talk to my advisor tomorrow. It's just that my dad is the problem. Whenever I talk to my dad he's like, nooooo. That's not what I've been sending you money for. He's so old fashioned."

"Oh," you respond, your voice monotone. There is a part of you that can't help but feel a little bad about zoning out and ignoring her, but you've had your fill of boring conversations about family and school and life aspirations. This was nothing new.

She slams one of her hands on the table, making you jump so high you nearly knock your glass of water over.

"And it's silly because he's the one who wanted me to go to college sooo badly, so how are you going to complain about paying for it? Its like—and not to sound like a cunt—we do pretty well for ourselves. I don't need to be the moneymaker! I get he wants me to be the head nurse at the hospital he owns, but honestly, fuck that hospital. Fuck the patients too!" she continues, her voice raised loud enough to capture the attention of the nearby tables. You can feel their eyes on you, and a wave of embarrassment washes over you. You glance around the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, slowly sliding down in your seat.

"He's just...he's such a hardass. Doesn't let me do anything. It's a real shame," she finishes, huffing in annoyance.

You nod. "Right, it is a real shame." you mumble, still avoiding others' judgemental gazes.

She doesn't seem to notice how uncomfortable you've become, or the attention that she's gathering. Instead, she grins."I know! I'm so glad you get it."

The only thing you're getting is murderous. You needed to get out of here, quickly. As if hearing your internal cries for help, the waiter appears, asking if the two of you would like to see the dessert menu. You shake your head.

"Oh, no. Just the check please," you say, glancing up at him.

Seolhyun nods in agreement. "Yeah, I'm done. This salad was kinda trash. No offense. Sorry." She picks up her napkin and dabs it at her mouth.

The waiter grimaces. "No problem. I'll be right back."

As the waiter walks off, you turn back to Seolhyun, forcing yourself to smile. She jumps right back into her complaints, albeit more quietly, and fidgets with the stem of her wine glass. You tune her out again, no longer feeling guilty for doing so. The only thing that brings your attention back to reality is the waiter setting the bill face-down on the table. He bids you both goodnight before walking off, and when you look up, you almost want to laugh.

A guilty expression flashes across Seolhyun's face, and she leans over the table, looking at the check. She clears her throat, and you already know what she's about to say.

"Do you have your card on you? Sorry, I think I left mine at home. I'll totally venmo you after this." She laughs awkwardly, sitting back in her seat.

You roll your eyes, but reach for your wallet. "Whatever."

After dinner, the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the rain, huddling under the overhang as you try to find an escape from the downpour.

"Well, it was nice chatting with you, y/n," she says, stepping towards the edge of the overhang. "Hope we can hang out again soon."

"Yeah, definitely," you lie.

"Awesome! Talk to you later, then." She smiles, and you know she's lying too.

Seolhyun walks out into the rain and you watch as she crosses the street, heading toward a pink Tesla.

"Bitch," you murmur bitterly, pulling your hood over your head.

You don't want to spend money on an Uber, and the walk to the nearest bus stop isn't very far, so you decide to trek through the rain, praying that the bus won't take long. You zip up your coat and adjust your hood, stepping out into the rain. The cold pelts against your face and seeps through the material of your clothes, causing goosebumps to break out on your skin. You curse, and pull your arms close to your body, walking faster. The streetlamps lining the road provide enough light for you to see where you're going despite the dark clouds overhead, their glow casting an orange glow against the pavement.

As you walk, your thoughts turn back to your disastrous date. You didn't mean to act like such an ass, but it was impossible not to when the entire evening had consisted of her talking about herself and how difficult her life was. The worst part is, she actually seemed to think you were a good listener, even with your blank stares and monosyllabic responses.

Deep down, you know that it's not entirely Seolhyun's fault. Today felt like a culmination of all the ways you've been failing lately. In short, it's been a bad week. A bad month. A bad year. At all points, you've felt as though there was no escape from the dullness of your life, like you were being suffocated, drowned in a pool of water with no way to save yourself. These were your college years, and you came to the realization last year that all you've been doing was sitting in your room, studying, going to class, and then going home. No parties, no drama, no adventures, no romance, nothing. Even worse, it seemed like everyone else had already started their lives and were living them. It was infuriating, seeing everyone around you have fun, while you were stuck in this weird limbo of mediocrity.

In attempts to find some excitement, you downloaded a dating app and started going out more, meeting people, but so far, all the dates have ended up being like this. Boring, or just plain awkward. You've tried to make changes—different clothes, makeup, hair—anything to shake things up, and while that was nice and made you feel pretty, it didn't change the fact that your life was still dull. And now, you're just exhausted, constantly feeling like you're going through the motions.

Nothing has worked. This was probably the tenth horrible date you've been on in two months. Maybe, this was just your life now, and you had to come to terms with it. Bland, and as bleak as the clouds overhead.

Which seem to have gotten even darker, you notice, as you approach the bus stop. You stand underneath the shelter, rubbing your hands together and blowing on them. The streets are completely deserted. You shiver, your damp clothes clinging to your skin, and hug yourself tightly, trying to keep warm. You try to look for any sign of the bus, but the rain is coming down too hard, the air is heavy with fog, and you can't see further than a few feet away. A prickle of fear runs down your spine. You didn't even think to check if the buses were running late. What if they're not running at all?

Just as you reach for your phone to check the time, you hear the screeching of bus brakes and let out a sigh of relief. You're saved.

You stand at the edge of the sidewalk, watching as the bus slowly pulls up in front of the stop. The door opens and you step inside, moving as quickly as you can. The warm air instantly hits your face, but the heat does nothing to thaw the chill that has set in your bones.

You pay the driver and walk to the back, taking a seat near the window. The bus is nearly empty, save for an old woman and a couple of teenagers sitting towards the front.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and plug in your earbuds. Music starts playing, drowning out the noise of the rain and the rumble of the engine.

After a few stops, the bus reaches your destination and the doors open, the sound of the rain pouring down and the wind blowing in, bringing with it a cool breeze. You get off, and begin the trek home, your sneakers splashing through puddles as you make your way down the street.

The wind picks up, the gusts blowing hard enough to cause the street lamps to flicker and sway. They cast shadows against the ground and walls of the buildings, which appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. The rain comes down harder, falling in thick, heavy sheets. You quicken your pace, the muscles in your legs burning as you move, your heart rate quickening.

Finally, your apartment building comes into view. You run, sprinting the last block and darting up the steps, the water squishing between your toes. Excitement blooms in your chest as you grab the door handle and pull it open, the prospect of a dry place to lay your head making you feel better.

As soon as you cross the threshold of your building, you pull your hood down, the smell of mildew hitting your nose. Your shoes squeak against the wet floor, and you leave a trail of water droplets and mud as you head toward the elevator.

The ride up is excruciatingly slow. You tap your foot impatiently, watching the numbers climb, and think about the warm bed that's awaiting you, how good it'll feel to wrap yourself in a blanket and forget about this miserable night. If your roommate allows it.

Once your mind drifts to her, your excitement dwindles. Fatigue weighs heavy on your shoulders, and you long for nothing more than to be asleep in the comfort of your own bed, but you know it's a rubbish wish, thanks to Aeri.

Recently, home hasn't been particularly enjoyable either. You used to have a roommate who didn't bother you. Then, she dropped out, and you were stuck with rent, an empty room, and the task of finding a new roommate. It was a difficult process, with most candidates seeming creepy or annoying or gross. Then, you ran into Aeri, who was by no means a perfect match, but seemed good enough. She was a bit awkward, and you didn't really know what to make of the intense gothic attire she was sporting during your initial meeting. She seemed incredibly nice and easygoing, though, and she smelled good. Was that not all you needed? So, running out of time, you swallowed your apprehension and gave her the spare keys to your apartment.

For the most part, you didn't regret your decision. She was, in fact, one of the sweetest, most caring people you've ever met, frequently baking treats for you when she knew you were having a particularly terrible day and listening to you vent about your dating diasters. But, there were a few small issues that had cropped up, and they happened to occur most often at night.

Your stomach does flip-flops the higher the numbers get, until, finally, the elevator dings, and the doors open. You shuffle out into the hall, pulling out your keys and heading toward the apartment. When you're in front of the door, you hesitate, the key hovering in the air as you stare at the peephole. You take a deep breath and push the door open, the smell of incense instantly hitting your nose as you step inside of the dark apartment. You slip off your wet shoes and hang your jacket up on your worn-out coat rack.

"I'm back," you call, closing the door behind you. You step further into the apartment and glance around as you walk into the living room, where you are met with a sight you're not prepared for.

Your eyes squint to adjust to the dark and take in the scene before you. The air is thick and heavy, engulfed by the scent of a sweet, intoxicating perfume. Candles are placed throughout the space, their warm glow casting shadows on the wall. Aeri kneels in the middle of the living room, wearing a cloak, her hands hovering above an intricate pentagram on the floor. She mumbles something to herself that you cannot understand, her eyes closed. Her hair falls over her face and her lips move, but no words are uttered.

"Aeri, what are you doing?" you ask, taking a tentative step forward.

Aeri's head snaps up, her eyes wide, and the mumbling stops.

"Oh, hey, you're back," she says, her tone a bit nervous. Her hands tremble as she moves the hood of her cloak back. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be back so soon. I was just—uh—you know."

"No, actually. I don't. What are you doing?" You repeat, folding your arms in front of you.

She looks around the room, before returning her gaze to you. "Uh...meditating?"

And this was the problem. Shortly after Aeri moved in, she brought her witchy occult shit with her. You don't really believe in any of it, so you typically ignore her and carry on with your day when you see her pull out one of her spellbooks at the dinner table. Except for days like this, when she goes too far, gets too loud, and keeps you up at night with her antics. Then, she becomes public enemy number one.

You glare at her. "With a pentagram on the floor? Please. This is..."

You pause, scanning the room again. There's something particularly wrong today, but you can't quite place it. There's heaviness in the air, a heightened version of the feeling you get when you're in a haunted house, except there are no clowns or people cosplaying as serial killers, just candles and a pentagram and Aeri, staring up at you.

"Bizarre. This is bizarre. Even for you." you finish, narrowing your eyes. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" She squeaks, her voice strained. "I was just...doing some reading about a spell that could, uh. Fix a problem that I’ve been having. I decided to try it out today"

You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out an exasperated sigh. You're tired. Your hair is drenched. Your shirt is clinging to your back. You couldn't be bothered with this.

"Listen, I don't think I actually care about what you have going on. But, I have an exam tomorrow, I've had a rough day, and I need some rest. Can you promise to keep it down in here while I sleep?"

Aeri looks around, a guilty expression on her face, before nodding her head. "Sure, yeah. No problem. I’m sorry."

"Thank you," you say, and turn on your heels without another word.

You make your way through the hallway and enter your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Your room is dark and cold, but you can't bother to turn the lights on or get under the covers. Instead, you lay down on the bed, your limbs splayed out. Your hair is still wet, and you can feel the moisture seeping into your comforter, but you can't even think to move.

You're too tired to bother changing into your pajamas. Too tired to do anything but sleep. So, you shove off your socks and rain-soaked jeans and call it a day. You crawl into bed, pulling the blankets over your body until they rest just below your chin. The warmth envelopes you and you're finally able to relax. You stare up at the ceiling, watching the fan spin slowly, praying for a peaceful night's rest. Lately, you've been plagued by strange dreams you can't remember when you wake up. Although they've been forgetful, they usually keep you tossing and turning in your sleep throughout the night. But, tonight, your eyelids are so heavy you can barely keep them open, and within seconds, you drift off into unconsciousness, the world slipping away and the darkness consuming you. The smell of Aeri's incense and the sound of the rain lulls you into a slumber unlike never before, submerged into a dark void of nothing.

That is, until you feel something touch you. You awaken with a start, jolting upright in your bed, your heart racing. The room is dark, illuminated only by the light of the moon shining through the window. You glance around frantically, searching for the source of the touch, but there's nothing, no sign of life. Just shadows, and the sound of your breathing. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It's probably just the wind or an insect. You're tired, and your deteriorating mind is playing tricks on you. There's nothing to be scared of.

You lay back down, pulling the blankets up to your chin, and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. Your heartbeat begins to slow, and you exhale, trying to relax. A few minutes pass, and you begin to drift off once again, when, suddenly, you feel something against your neck. A cold, soft pressure. Like a feather, brushing across your skin.

"Y/N." A soft, gentle voice whispers.

Your eyes flutter open, and you are met with the sight of a woman's face, inches away from yours. You gasp and shoot up again, nearly slamming your forehead against hers. The woman backs away, allowing you to regain your bearings. You blink a few times, shaking your head to try to wake yourself up, but she remains., staring at you with an expression that could only be described as amused.

The moonlight streams in through the window, giving the woman's figure an almost ethereal glow. You've never seen her before. She has a stupefying, otherworldly, beauty about her, with dark eyes and full lips that accentuate her sharp jawline. She's wearing a black, silky nightgown that clings to her body. Her pale, delicate-looking skin shines in the moonlight, and her dark hair, interlaced with another color, cascades down her back, falling over her shoulders.

You look around the room, expecting the lights to turn on and an elaborate prank to be revealed, but the room is just as dark and empty as you remember. When your eyes fall back onto the woman, she is staring back at you, a soft smile on her face.

"Who the fuck are you?" you force out, your voice trembling.

She quirks an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. "Were you not expecting me?"

You scoff, nearly choking on your own saliva. "No! Of course not. I've never seen you before in my life. What the hell is going on? And how do you know my name?"

Her eyes light up with mirth, and her smile widens as if she's in on some sort of joke.

"Oh, this is interesting," she starts, clasping her hands together. "This is very interesting."

As a primal fear takes hold of your body, interesting is the last word that comes to your brain to describe the situation you've found yourself in. Albeit hot, this random woman broke into your apartment to do God knows what to you and your belongings. Who knows if she's already murdered Aeri. Or, perhaps, this is a lucid dream, and you're experiencing some sort of weird hallucination. Either way, you wanted out. Now.

You release a shaky exhale in a poor attempt to calm your nerves. "I'm gonna call the cops, okay? But, I really don't want any trouble. If you leave now, I won't tell anyone about this."

The woman stares at you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before erupting into a fit of laughter. You blink, unsure of how to proceed. She continues to laugh, her hand clutching her chest as her whole body shakes. The sound is melodic, and it rings out like the chimes of a bell, the notes flowing effortlessly into the air. It's almost enchanting, and you find yourself lost in the melody until she quiets down and straightens up, a soft smile on her face.

"That's completely unnecessary. I'm not here to cause you any harm, Y/N," she says, and, somehow, her voice is even more hypnotic than her laugh. Some of your fear dissipates, but the confusion remains.

"Why are you here, then?" you question, unable to keep the suspicion out of your tone.

"To give you a little bit of help. I know you've been struggling." She replies, her voice dripping with sympathy.

"How do you know that?"

She smiles, the expression making her features seem even more radiant than before. "I know a lot of things. 'How' is irrelevant. What's more important is that I know exactly how I can help you tonight. You need...a stress reliever. I can do that for you. If you're up for it, that is."

"A stress reliever?" You echo, and the way her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, her lips quirked up in a seductive smirk, her voice low and smooth, makes it abundantly clear what she's implying. Your cheeks flush and heat rushes through your body. This couldn't be real. Could it?

"I don't think we're on the same page. I mean, a...stress reliever. I don't know if I understand," you say, shifting uncomfortably.

"You're a bit slow, aren't you?" she asks a devilish grin stretching across her face, and, she's probably right. You feel like a fish out of water, opening and closing your mouth like an idiot. The worst part of it is, she seems to be enjoying your floundering, grinning wider as she watches you stutter.

"There's no need to worry," she purrs, taking a step closer, her dark eyes shining. "You just need to relax. It'll be fun."

The sane, rational part of your brain is screaming, yelling, begging for you to run out of the room. Anybody with half a brain could decipher that the sensible thing to do in this situation would be to flee, grab a weapon, and call the police. Yet, here you are, lying still, the woman's words ringing in your ears. Fun. It's been a long time since you've had fun. You can't even remember the last time you've gotten remotely close to it. And, as if she was sent from above, here was a beautiful, mysterious woman, offering it to you on a platter. You can't help but be a bit curious. Curious about the strange, magical feeling that's coursing through your veins.

Plus, your body is aching for touch, and the idea of sleeping with a beautiful woman is incredibly tempting, especially in your state. It's been months since you've had sex.

The woman takes a step closer, and your stomach does a flip. This is stupid. It's dangerous, and stupid, and it would be so easy to say no.

"You won't hurt me, right?" You ask, a nervous edge creeping into your voice.

"You'll enjoy every second we spend together," she says, her eyes stroking over you. Her gaze is so intense, her voice so soothing, all you want is to please her. You don't think. You no longer have the ability to. Your desire is too strong.

"What are you going to do?" you ask, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

"That depends on you," she says, her fingers brushing the edge of the duvet. "What would you like me to do?"

You look into her dark, all-consuming eyes, and shiver. Your blood feels like it's on fire. "I—um—whatever you had in mind."

Her eyes narrow, her lips curling up into a smirk. She leans in, her warm breath ghosting your lips. You can smell her perfume, the scent of vanilla and lavender assaulting your senses.

Your heart beats fast, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes your throat.

"Are you sure?" she says, her voice low. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

She's right. For all you knew, her idea of fun could include a knife and a casket. But you couldn't bring yourself to care, not when she's looking at you like that.

"I don't care," you say, your voice hoarse. "Do whatever you want with me."

The corners of her lips curl upwards, and her eyes twinkle with mischief. "Okay," she whispers, her voice soft and sweet.

She leans forward, her lips ghosting yours. You hold your breath, anticipating her next move. Her hand moves up to cup your cheek, her thumb rubbing small circles on your skin that send a tingle down your spine. You lean into the touch, and her smile widens. She tilts her head to the side, and presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. The contact is soft, tender, and sweet. Her lips are warm, and the touch is brief, but enough to ignite the flames within your veins. You gasp, moving your head to try to capture her lips with yours, and she chuckles, pulling away.

"You're so impatient," she says, her eyes gleaming. "Desperate, even."

Embarrassment creeps up on you, and you flush, averting your gaze. She laughs again, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

"Don't hide from me," she whispers, her voice soft. "There's nothing wrong with wanting something."

With her words, the fire within you flares, and the embers within your belly burst into an inferno. Your whole body is burning, yearning, and you can't help the sigh that escapes your throat. She hums, staring at you with her piercing gaze. You've never felt this exposed, so vulnerable, so completely bare in front of another person, and you are still partially clothed. She seems to be studying you, taking in every detail, memorizing the expressions on your face. She's looking at you like you're prey, a feast, and it should scare you, should make you tremble, but it doesn't.

"Kiss me," you murmur, and she obeys.

You let out a small gasp, and her lips curve into a smile against yours as you make contact. Your eyes flutter shut, and the warmth of her mouth almost sends you spiraling. The feeling is electric, like a bolt of lightning, and it sets every nerve ending within your body alight. Her tongue glides along your bottom lip, and you part them willingly, allowing her all of the access she desires. Her tongue is warm, and wet, and her kisses are intoxicating. She tastes sweet, like strawberries and vanilla, and you can't help but moan.

She pulls away, prompting an involuntary whimper from you."Is this what you wanted, y/n?"

"Yes—uh," you stop yourself, realizing that you still don't know her name.

"Bada," she supplies, as if reading your mind. She places a hand on your chest, and gently pushes you back onto the bed, her gaze locked on yours. You fall onto the mattress, your eyes wide.

"Bada," you repeat softly, tasting the name on your lips. Pretty.

She smiles and slips the blankets off of you. The cool air hits your skin, sending goosebumps along your arms and legs. You suck in a sharp breath, and her eyes rake over you, drinking in the sight.

"Beautiful," she whispers, her fingers tracing up your thigh.

She leans down to press a gentle kiss on your jaw. Her lips travel down your neck, and she bites at the sensitive skin, hard. A moan slips from your mouth, and she sucks and licks at the spot, soothing the sting. Her hand trails up the inside of your thigh, and her fingertips graze the band of your underwear. You arch your back, yearning for her touch.

"Please," you whimper again, and she giggles.

"At least you're polite," she says, biting down on your neck again.

Her teeth scrape against your skin, and you gasp, grabbing a fistful of her hair. You pull her closer, desperate to remove any shred of distance between the two of you. She groans, her nails digging into your thigh, her touch searing hot. She sucks at the tender skin below your collarbone, and you whine, heat pooling between your legs. It was a little humiliating, getting so worked up despite the fact that she's barely done anything, but it was hard not to when she's touching as if she wants nothing more than to devour you.

"So impatient," she purrs, her eyes gleaming. "So needy."

She kisses the mark she made on your neck, and you squirm, the pressure between your thighs growing.

Her fingers move higher, ghosting over your underwear, and you writhe under her touch, letting out a frustrated groan. She pulls away, a smirk on her lips.

"Something wrong?"

"You're fucking with me," you hiss, and she laughs out loud.

"Your impatience is cute," she says, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin on your neck, pausing where your heartbeat pulsed, right beneath your jaw. "Can't help it."

You watch as she moves her hand away from your neck, back to your underwear. Her fingers slip under the band of your panties, already dark and wet, and she runs them through your folds, spreading your already abundant slickness. You couldn't stand that you were so clearly proving her point about how needy you were, giving her more to make fun of you about, but how could you not be? It's been too long. and you don't know if it's ever felt this good this early on.

Your head falls back onto the pillow, and your hands clutch at the sheets, desperate for purchase. The feeling of her thumb brushing against your clit makes your hips buck up, and she pulls away to pull down your panties.

You shiver, the cool air hitting your exposed skin. She grabs your thighs, spreading them apart, and the anticipation nearly kills you on the spot.

"So pretty," she says, her voice filled with wonder.

She looks up at you, her eyes darker than before. She holds your gaze, and without breaking eye contact, ducks her head, and swipes her tongue along your slit.

A moan escapes your lips, and your back arches, your fingers threading through her hair. Her tongue moves in circles, and you feel her hands grasp at your thighs as you inadvertently try shut them close around her head. She spreads them further apart, and presses her mouth against your center, sucking on the bundle of nerves.

"F—fuck," you moan, your head thrown back, eyes shut.

She moans into you, the vibrations causing pleasure to erupt inside of you. You grip the sheets, the fabric crumpling underneath your fingers. She pulls away, and your eyes fly open, only to meet her intense gaze.

"Watch me," she whispers, her voice husky.

Your eyes snap to her face, and she smiles, her fingers trailing down your stomach. You squirm under her touch, and she grips your thighs, her eyes locked on yours. Her staring does something to you, makes the goosebumps rise on your skin, a funny feeling arise in your stomach. She presses her lips against the inside of your thigh, her eyes not leaving yours.

She slips a finger inside of you, and you gasp, the sudden intrusion causing a wave of pleasure to wash over your body. She curls her finger, and you arch your back, the friction driving you crazy.

"That's it," she purrs, adding another finger.

You throw your head back, moaning as she begins to thrust her fingers, moving in a steady rhythm. You clench around her fingers, and her eyes widen, a mischievous glint shining in her irises. You bite your lip, the pressure building, and she smirks, increasing the pace of her movements. She crooks her fingers, hitting a sensitive spot inside of you.

"Fuck," you cry out, and her lips curl upwards, pleased.

She leans forward, her lips capturing yours, her tongue invading your mouth. She swallows your moans, and you can feel her smiling against your lips. She pulls away, and rests her forehead against yours, her dark eyes boring into yours.

"Are you going to come for me, y/n?"

"Y-yes," you whimper, and she laughs, her hot breath fanning against your cheek.

She thrusts her fingers faster, and her thumb rubs against your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. Your breaths come out short and quick, and your head spins, the room spinning.

"Come on," she whispers, her voice low and sultry.

The pressure builds, and you can feel the edge coming. You gasp, your eyes shut, and your whole body tenses up, the pleasure rippling through your body. You let out a string of curses, and she slows her movements, riding out the aftershocks.

"That's it," she murmurs, her fingers leaving your core.

She trails her fingers up your torso, and leans down, her lips hovering above yours.

"Open up," she commands, her voice taking on a deeper cadence that makes you immediately obey. She pushes her fingers inside of your mouth, and your tongue dances around her digits, tasting yourself, a musky flavor that leaves you feeling lightheaded. She hums and removes her fingers, a trail of saliva connecting her digits to your mouth.

"Good." she whispers, her breath tickling your cheek.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your head spins. You're exhausted, and you almost feel as if you're about to pass out, but her praise and proximity sends a thrill through you, your heart fluttering at her words. She presses another soft kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue. She pulls away, a lazy smile on her face.

Through your exhaustion, you manage to meet her gaze again, and you nearly gasp. Her pupils had swollen, the dark brown of her eyes merely a slim ring around a black void, devoid of any color. You swallow hard, a slight panic rising within you as you suddenly remembering the reality of the predicament you're in. Or, was it even reality?

"W—what's happening?" you stutter, the words tumbling from your mouth.

She grins, and you realize for the first time that her teeth are razor sharp, looking as if they could tear your flesh to shreds.

"I'm taking care of you, that's what's happening, silly." she says, her voice taking on a sing-songy quality. Her hand trails down your side. "And I'm not quite finished, yet."

She leans down and captures your lips in another kiss so rough that it nearly bruises. You're still dizzy, the blood pumping through your veins, and your head still feels as if it's full of cotton. As soon as her hands meet your skin, your exhaustion and worry disappear, replaced by euphoria. She reaches under your shirt, her fingers dancing along your torso, and you moan, your mind foggy. You can't help the small sounds that escape from your lips as she touches you, her fingers tracing every curve, every angle, committing every inch of your body to memory. Soon, your top is tossed to the side, and her hands are exploring your bare skin. Her fingers run up your spine, and you shiver, goosebumps forming. She pulls away, and a whine falls from your lips, a sound that causes her to laugh.

"So easy to please," she teases.

"Sh-shut up," you protest weakly.

Suddenly, she grabs you by the waist, pulling you into her lap with an ease that catches you off guard. You're stunned into silence, and she wraps her arms around you, enveloping you in a tight embrace. You let out a yelp, and her nails dig into your skin, the sting making you bite back a groan. She places her chin on top of your shoulder, and her hands move lower, settling on your hips. She squeezes and forces your hips into a grind, her thigh meeting the apex of your legs. Your eyes flutter shut, a wave of heat pooling between your legs, a warmth filling the pit of your stomach, a small moan escaping your lips. She chuckles, her breath tickling the back of your neck.

"Fuck," you choke out, the embarrassment clear in your tone as you continue to your center against the smooth skin of her thigh.

"You're funny," she murmurs with a smile, and presses a kiss on your cheek.

A blush creeps onto your cheeks, and you hide your face, burying it into her neck. You inhale deeply, her scent filling your nose. She still smells so sweet, like dessert, and you want to lick her, devour her, but instead, you press your lips to her skin, and she moans, gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark.

"God, you're so beautiful," she whispers, her nails digging into your hips. "So, so pretty."

You moan, the heat between your legs intensifying. Her words go straight to your core, and you can't help the small, high-pitched whine that leaves your mouth, a sound you'd be ashamed of if not for the fact that you can't think, can't focus, can't even process her words.

One of her hands slips around your waist, grabbing at the bare flesh of your ass. Your breath hitches, and she pulls you closer, her mouth finding the spot on your neck that drives you wild. Her teeth scrape against your skin, and her tongue laps at the hollow of your collarbone, the sensation eliciting a loud moan. You tilt your head, allowing her access, and her mouth moves downward, to your breast, her tongue circling one of your nipples. Your eyes squeeze shut, the tension in your abdomen mounting. It was overstimulating, her thighs, the way her tongue felt against you, the way her fingers squeezed at the flesh of your ass, the way her hands explored the planes of your body, and it was all too much.

"I'm gonna—" you start, and her hand moves between your legs, pressing her fingers against your throbbing clit.

You let out a cry, the orgasm hitting you hard, the intensity somehow stronger than before. Her fingers slide easily against you, and you clench around her, the waves of pleasure washing over your body.

She lets out a soft sigh, and she pulls away, her black eyes meeting yours. You don't care enough to feel frightened this time though, being so flooded with exhaustion that you collapse back onto the bed, barely able to keep your eyes open. Sharp, short breaths escape from your lips, and a numbness starts to spread throughout your limbs, a strange calm settling over your body that you've never felt before. Somewhere in the back of your brain, alarm bells are going off, but they're drowned out by a heavy sleepiness that takes over you.

"Go back to sleep, Y/N." she says, her voice distant, muffled. "It's alright."

You can feel the weight of the world bearing down on your shoulders, and the bags under your eyes seem to grow heavier and darker with every passing second. It has been a very long time since you were last able to sleep properly. You wanted to talk to Bada more, but you can feel yourself beginning to lose control, your mind going blank and your muscles becoming weak.

"Bada..." you mumble, her name rolling off your tongue.

Before you can further speak, the darkness seeps into your mind, and you allow yourself to succumb. But, the feeling that accompanies you into sleep is an uneasy one, a cold sensation wrapping itself around your body like a snake squeezing the life out of its prey.

"Good night," Bada whispers, the words echoing in the darkness, the sound fading into nothingness.

#bada lee #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #swf2 #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee imagine #bada lee smut

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phoward89 · 6 months

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Series Masterlist

Chapter 3:

After stitching you up, Coryo cleaned your wounds (again) and then found you a cotton nightgown from the meager clothes basket near your bed. He came up to your side, only to pull the blanket off of you and help you sit up. You let out a whine of pain, despite having morphling in your system, which made him coo, “I know it hurts, darling. I know.” Sighing, he held up the nightgown. “We need to get you into your nightgown so you don't get cold.”

“I'm shocked you care if I freeze or not.” You muttered under your breath while holding your arms up; signaling that Coryo could help you into the gown.

You thought you were quiet enough so he wouldn't hear you, but you're wrong. Coryo heard you.

And your words grated on him. How could you ever think that he couldn't care if you were cold? Coriolanus knows how it feels to be freezing in an apartment that's falling apart while going starving; he never wants that for you.

Ever.

You're all alone; you need him. He'll never turn his back on you, now that you're his girl. Coryo's going to bring you back to the Capitol with him; make you his wife.

Why? Because you make him feel powerful, that's why.

“Don’t say such things, darling. You're my girl, of course I care.” Coriolanus told you while helping you into your nightgown. Pulling it down round you, he admitted, “I know how it is to be so cold that the chattering of teeth and shivering of your body's so bad it takes your mind off of your stomach eating itself because you're starving.” Grabbing your hands and pulling your arms down, he reveals, “I don't want you to ever feel like that. Not when I have the power to keep you safe and warm with a full belly.”

“You’ve been freezing and starving?” You asked in awe as Coryo helped you lay down, so that you could let the morphling take over and get some sleep.

“The war hit my family particularly hard, but don't worry about it. Everything's fine now.” He assured you, mostly because he wanted you to believe that he's able to take care of you. That as the man of the family he's able to be a protector.

If you really knew how bad of shape things were with his family, well…would you trust him to care for you? He doesn't think so. Coriolanus needs you to trust in his ability to care for you, to protect you, to be powerful enough to ensure that nothing bad ever happens to you again. In order to do that, he has to keep certain things from you.

Like his family's money problems.

But he's sending money back home to Tigris and Grandma'am, so at least he's helping them. But things won't be better until he's back in the Capitol.

Kissing your temple and gently petting your hair, he told you, “Get some sleep, baby. You'll feel better if you do.”

A nasty side effect of morphling is nausea. Unfortunately for you, that side effect hit full force when you were asleep. You don't know how long you're asleep for, just that you're suddenly bolting awake, stomach churning, and vile rising up your throat. You scrambled out of bed, nearly falling due to sudden dizziness (another side effect of the morphling- since you took a dose for a large grown man…) and dashed to the bathroom.

Coryo was sitting at the kitchen table, a tiny thing with 2 wobbly chairs, slicing and eating an apple whenever he saw you rushing to the bathroom. Worried, he followed you.

Stepping into the bathroom, Coriolanus sighed as he found you hunched over the toilet, coughing and dry heaving. Kneeling down next to you, he said, “Be careful l, we don't want you popping your stitches.”, while rubbing your sore back- in what he assumed was a soothing manner.

“Don't touch me.” You ordered, pushing yourself away from the toilet to rest against the avocado green tub.

“Don't be like that, darling.” Coryo chastised you, as if you're being a bratty little girl. “I'm just trying to help.” He said, sitting down next to you.

He's just trying to help. Hmmm… Think he helped enough, considering he's the reason you're in this mess.

You just shot him an irritated and tired look. “Coryo, I don't feel good. I just want to be left alone.”

“I know you don't feel good, which is why I'm taking care of you.” The peacekeeper, who was now your personal pest, told you while wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. “But, if you didn't steal you wouldn't be feeling poorly, Y/N.”

Condescending bastard. “It's your fault, Coryo. You turned me in.” You pointed out as he gently rubbed your shoulder, attempting to make you feel better.

Right now the only thing to make you feel better would be him going away, but you know that's not going to happen. You're stuck with his ass.

“Don't blame me for your actions and consequences, my darling.” Don't blame him? Who else should you blame, you didn't turn yourself in. “You know stealing is wrong and that if caught you'll be whipped, but you still chose to steal- what happened to you was your own doing, not mine.” He lectured you in a self-righteous, pompous tone. Coriolanus tipped your chin up, only to defend his actions with, “I didn't want to turn you in. You're my pretty girl, but there's rules to go by. Now, we have to follow the rules to keep order.”

Little did you know that Coriolanus only followed the rules when it suited it. That he's a peacekeeper in 8 because he cheated in the 10th Hunger Games to ensure that his tribute survived and won. That he wanted to both win the Plinth Prize money and the girl, Lucy Gray Baird. And if you knew that he only turned you in for being a thief to his superiors because he thinks it'll help him get back to the Capitol- well…

Standing up and offering his hand, Coryo said, “Come on, let's get you some tea. That'll help you calm down.”

You nodded, putting your hand in his and letting him help you to your feet. Despite not liking him for turning you in, you had to admit that not being by yourself was nice. Swallowing your pride, you honestly told Coryo, “Thank you for being here, so that I'm not by myself while hurt.”

“You're welcome, baby.” Coriolanus smiled, feeling elated that you’re grateful for his help. That you need him. Leading you back into the main room of the apartment, he promised you, “You'll never be alone again. I'm going to be with you, always.”

Yea…you figured as much. Might as well get used to it.

The last few days haven't been that bad. Coryo wakes up, makes you tea and some toast before taking off to get you some medicine from his friend. Then when he returns, he gives you some of the medicine (after retching and feeling dizzy the first day you took the morphling he quickly realized that his friend’s dosage was too much for you and began to give you smaller amounts.) He also checks on your back to make sure that it's healing properly and that the stitches aren't torn. He cleans it too, to make sure that infection doesn't happen. Then, he'll read to you, since you don't have a tv, and make the two of you meals.

You and Coryo talk, share tiny details about each other since there isn't much else to do. He also managed to get the old radio on your windowsill to pick up a signal, but that's because he placed it on top of the fridge and extended the antenna with some tin foil (you have no idea where he got the foil, but you think it might've been from the base). So, in between reading and talking you're able to listen to music.

He promised to look into getting you two a tv, but you're not getting your hopes up on it. In fact, you're not placing too much faith in the delusional peacekeeper that's demanded to be in your life. Yes, his presence is very domestic in an odd way, but, sad to say, you're secretly waiting for the other shoe to drop. You doubt that Coryo can keep up the caring peacekeeper boyfriend routine; that one day he's going to snap. Toss you aside like trash since you're District and he's Capitol.

But today's not that day.

No, in fact today he doesn't come back by himself, but brings his friend- the one that's supplying him with the morphling for you- with him.

You're sitting at the small dining table, eating some apple wedges, whenever Coryo walks in followed by a big-boned man with a dark buzzcut and a baby face. The two men look like polar opposites.

“Y/N, this is my friend, Sejanus.” Coryo told you while bringing his friend over to you.

“Hi.” You simply tell the dark-haired peacekeeper.

“It's nice to finally meet my best friend's girl. Coryo's been real worried about you, cleaned out my stash of morphling for you.” Sejanus told you, a warm smile on his face, as he placed a pack labeled medic on the table.

“Sejanus wanted to check up on you.” Coryo explained while taking his seat next to you at the table. “He doesn't believe me when I say you're doing better.” Coryo scoffed, rolling his crystal blue eyes.

“She's been taking a lot of morphling, of course I'm concerned.” Sejanus told your platinum blonde peacekeeper, as if you weren't even in the room. He actually looked a bit concerned about you.

You couldn't help, but wonder if Coryo told him about how you two got together. How he's the one that turned you in for stealing. You doubt it. Sejanus seemed like such a sweet, kind, good soul; you doubt he'd be willing to help you and Coryo if he knew the truth about you two. How Coryo's as cold as his name- snow. How the tall blonde's a dark, delusional, twisted creature that got you punished only to possess you in the form of your caretaker man afterwards.

“So, you're a medic.” You stated, watching Sejanus unzip his medic pack.

Before he could say a word, Coryo told you, “He's training with the Matron to be a medic.”

“Oh.” You nodded, watching Sejanus pull things out of his bag.

“So, I'm going to need to see your back to access the wounds.” Sejanus told you after getting everything he needed laid out.

“You're not looking at my girl naked, Sejanus.” Coryo snapped at his fellow peacekeeper.

“I'm not going to look at her like that, brother. Just her back.”

“I'm not letting her strip in front of you. Just leave me what I need to give her and I'll do it myself.”

“Coryo, do you hear yourself right now? You're being irrational. I just want to help-” Sejanus began to tell Coryo, only for him to cut him off with a loud possessive, “I'm not letting you see my girl in a way that's only for me to see her. She's mine, so just leave the shit and go.”

“Coryo, I don't think he means anything forward, but wants to help with his medical knowledge.” You told the platinum blonde, vouching for his friend, since you didn't think that teddy bear of a man posed any threat. Not like the fallen angel currently sitting next to you.

Coriolanus took a hold of your hand while telling you, “I failed you the first time when half the district saw you whipped naked in the snow, I'm not going to let anyone else see you like that.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Whose fault is it that I went thru that, Coryo? Huh?”

“We've talked about this, baby. I'm sorry it happened, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.” The blonde hissed, sounding like a cornered snake.

Sejanus’ soft brown eyes darted between you and Coriolanus, watching as your tempers flared. Honestly, it made him feel a bit out of place. He wasn't comfortable watching a couple have a fight.

“Um, I'm just gonna go. I'll let Trey know that you’ll trade your day with him tomorrow.” Sejanus said, quickly zipping up his medic pack. The sooner he left the apartment the better. Especially since seeing you and Coryo stop snapping at each other, only for Coryo to pull you into a desperate kiss took him off guard and made him uncomfortable.

Coryo and you were too busy kissing each other like your lives depended on it, as if you're the air the other needs to live, to notice Sejanus leaving the apartment.

Sejanus honestly thought that Coryo and you had an odd relationship. Maybe it's cause his friend’s a Capitol boy? Who knows. But Sejanus does know that Coriolanus’ possessiveness towards you made him feel uneasy. That paired with fighting turned passionate, while you're healing from an injury, just made Sejanus shake his head. He has other things to do than worry about you and his best friend.

Sejanus needed to get back to base before the Matron realized that he was gone; give him demerits or worse, kick him out of the medic training program.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3

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teriri-sayes · 11 months

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Reactions to Young Master Shield's Chapter 207

TL;DR - Cale plans his revenge on HD for spreading the boom-boom word. Cale's parents worried about him. Cale feels awkward with their affection. Cale's parents plan to renovate and boost the black castle's defense. Cale has a talk with Lock. Cale's speech curse strikes again.

Cale's Head Goes Boom Boom This was a funny part. To explain, back when HD first mentioned about the possibility of Cale's head exploding when he opened the Bai Hui Point, HD actually used the word "boom-boom" to describe it. I only translated it as "explode" in my posts.

And then, everyone copied HD and used the boom-boom word too. 🤣🤣🤣

HD: Your head almost went boom-boom! Raon: M-My human's head almost went b-boom-boom?! Cale to Alberu: My head almost went boom-boom. Alberu to Cale's parents: Cale's head almost went boom-boom. Violan to Cale: I heard you nearly died because your head almost went boom-boom? Deruth to Cale: Cale, I-I heard from the crown prince that y-you almost we-went b-boom-boom... Cale: (That damn HD bastard! Why did he have to use the boom-boom word! I'll summon him in Aipotu and make him work hard!)

Worried Parents and Awkward Son There were some touching scenes of Deruth being worried about Cale. He wanted to stop Cale if Cale was going somewhere dangerous, but knew that his family were stubborn people.

As for Cale, after he accepted the Henituse as his family, and the more he spent time with them, he felt awkward at the love and care he received.

But it was nice to see Cale being honest with them about his plans, and his parents knowing him well. This part was funny though 😂:

Cale: The dragons will be going with me too. Cale: (If I say that, I'm sure they'll be relieved because the dragons are powerful) Violan: So you're going somewhere dangerous? Deruth: Is your enemy a dragon then? Cale: (How did these two notice?! Why are they not relieved?)

✨The Henituse Flex ✨ Cale brought up the topic of the black castle going to Aipotu, and his parents offered to renovate and boost the castle's defense with their money. But he underestimated his own parents. Cale thought that his stay in Roan was short, so the renovation would be minimal.

However, his parents thought differently. They were willing to open the safe and spend a lot in order to renovate the castle in a short amount of time. Repair old castle walls? Okay. Install magic cannons? No problem. Replace the moat with a sea of fire? Yes. Magic shield? Let's do it. Magic arrows against flying enemies? Consider it done.

Of course, Sheritt was pleased with the couple's help. And thus, a collection of state-of-the-art magic engineering devices was born in the history of the Roan Kingdom, no, the Eastern and Western continents... 😂 The black castle would also be known in the future as the pioneer and standard in magic engineering... Cale, I guess you really need to spend more time with your family because you still don't fully know them. 🤣🤣🤣

Lock's Career Counselling The author only mentioned in a sentence about Cale's career counselling with his younger siblings. Lock was given more focus today.

Cale praised Lock for having grown, and told him that it was okay to want to be acknowledged. Everyone had already acknowledged Lock's strength. So Cale said to Lock that Lock should acknowledge himself more than seek the acknowledgement of others.

This part was quite touching yet also sad. Cale taking care of the kids made me think about KRS himself. That if there was someone who took care of child KRS, he might have lived a better life. Then again, that someone would end up dead because of the effect of WS's curse on KRS. Ugh, KRS's life is really sad. 😭

KRS's Speech Curse Strikes Again?! The planted flag last chapter did not disappoint us. Alberu left a message that someone sent a warning to the academy, threatening to blow up the place if Cale gives his speech. Even adding that Cale's shield would not be enough to stop it.

And our Cale was dumbfounded to hear that. His speech curse is back? He might have to use his shield again to stop the explosion? Cale had a bad feeling about this.

I have some doubts about the sender of this threat though. Well, it could be a real terrorist or someone who hated Cale. But it could also be a Cale fan staging an explosion plot in order to see Cale's famous shield again. 😂 Or... it could be a continuation of Alberu's revenge to prevent Cale from ditching the speech because he knows Cale would want to protect the audience. 🤣🤣🤣

Ending Remarks It's just a speech, but why has this gone so complicated? 😂 Is the threat real or not? Will Caleism spread further? Just how much will Cale kill his slacker life dream? Monday, please come sooner~!

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

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tonberry-yoda · 10 months

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Take a Break - Asra

notes - IM BACK FROM THE DEAD AND WITH A FIC?!?!?! Hi guys! <3 I've been in a bit of a block feeling like my writing is meh, but I wanted to pump this out to get out of said block. I'm finally on a short break for school, but I'll be working then, but now, I had time to write and wanted to give you all something, even if it's short and sweet. I also wanted to thank you all for the support even as I've been on my hiatus. I nearly have 200 followers, and I just can't thank everyone enough for being so loving! Sorry this note was kinda long, but I really want you all to know how much I love you <3 word count - 941

“Hi Asra.” You smile, giving the boy goo-goo eyes as he walks into the shop that the two of you owned.

“Hello, y/n.” he says, not once looking at you. He was too busy looking down at a list of some sort to notice you staring at him while you stood behind the counter.

“Busy?” you asked.

“Mhm.” was all he let out before walking up to his office.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. Another busy day that clouded both you and Asra. You were used to it by now, but a break sounded nice every once in a while. So instead of that break, you played with a bottle full of tea leaves that you were proud to say you made yourself. You didn't hate your job, if anything, you loved it more than any job you’ve had before. The problem was Asra. He looked constantly stressed and beyond tired. You hated that he was starting to look like he was the one who hated his job. He had so much passion years ago, but now he just looked swamped.

“Good evening, y/n!” you heard a familiar voice say as the bell rang above the door. Your ears perked up and a smile spread across your face as you saw one of your regular customers walk in.

“Evening, Mr. Bennet! How are you?” You set down the little bottle and walked over to the man, shaking his hand.

“Fine, fine,” he said. “Busy as always. You?” He hung his coat on a rack next to the door and started browsing.

“I'm all right,” you admitted. “Bout to close up shop, so that’s nice.”

“I won't be too long.” He looked at some of the tea you had made, carefully reading the instructions. “Where’s Asra, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Oh, he's upstairs. Probably working as always.” You rested your cheek on your hand.

“Go figure. Poor man needs to catch a break.”

“Tell me about it.” you chuckled.

“Well, when you see him again,” Mr. Bennet said, walking to the counter with a box of tea leaves. “Tell him that he has to get that break, for me, of course.”

You laughed and took the money from the man, locking the door behind him as he left.

“Was that Mr. Bennet?” you heard Asra ask, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Yeah,” you said nonchalantly as you began to clean up for the night. “He just got some tea, that’s all.”

“Dammit,” Asra groaned, leaning against the wall. “I had to ask him something.”

“You know he’ll be back. He’s in here all the time. Plus, he told me to tell you to take a damn break.”

Asra ran his fingers through his white hair while his other hand clutched some tarot cards. “You know I can't do that.” he sighed.

“Whatever you say.” You finished sweeping up the rest of the shop and walked past Asra.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To my room. To take a break.” So, you did. You walked straight to your room and laid on your bed. It was soft, as always, and all of your stuffed animals gave you soft smiles.

Through your window, you could see the moon peeking over some mountains behind the town and a smile spread across your face. You quickly jumped out of bed to open your window to bring in some cool night air. It smelled fresh. You saw crows fly overhead and could see the lights from the rest of the village turning on as the night market began overflowing with people. You’ve been needing this relaxation for weeks, and finally, it was a weekend where you had time for it.

At your door, you heard Asra clear his throat. When you turned around, he had Faust wrapped around his bicep and the tarot cards were still in his hand.

“Need something?” you asked.

“Not really.” he said quietly.

“You look tired.” Your voice was softer than his.

Asra chuckled. “I am tired.”

“Then take a break. Please.”

Faust slid her way off of Asra’s arm and slid over to you. You picked her up and she wrapped herself around your wrist. “Break!” she said to Asra.

“There’s so much to do before the weekend is over though.” Asra sighed and leaned against the frame of your door.

“Like what?” you asked.

He thought for a minute. You assumed that he was going to try to make some excuse to keep himself busy. There were probably things he had to do over the weekend, but you also knew that Asra was the kind of guy who always felt the need to be productive.

You walked over to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Asra, I'm serious, you need a break. Those eyebags don't look good on you.” You ran your thumb underneath his eye over the dark spots there.

He softened to your touch, leaning his cheek on your warm hand. “What if everything falls apart because of me?” he asked.

“I think you’re just making excuses.” you giggled.

He took your hand in his own and smiled softly at you. Faust, you noticed, had disappeared, but you didn't mind, especially when you just saw her curling up in a little cage you had made for her.

“Do you want some hot cocoa?” you asked Asra as he took a seat on your bed.

“That would be wonderful, y/n, thank you.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead and pushed him so that he was laying down. “I'll be right back.” You winked.

~~~~~

the arcana masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

#love you all!#for my arcana followers please enjoy!#i really want to write for the game #again dorian hire me #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #the arcana #the arcana x reader #arcana #arcana x reader #asra #asra x reader #asra alnazar #asra alnazar x reader #<3 #let me know what you guys think !

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letsgetrowdy43 · 9 months

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The season of giving—

Request: Hey! Can I please request the prompts a being an ass and putting their cold hands on b's warm neck with "It's a time of goodwill, not whatever the hell you're doing" for the ‘never a god au’ xx

Baby, it's cold outside Celly!!

Au Masterlist!!

The holiday season wasn't just for receiving, it was also a time of giving, meaning that the devils were doing 12 days of donating to the community, putting in their time and money into some charities and non-profits throughout New Jersey. Today the entire team was tasked with helping teach kids from the children's hospital how to skate.

Some of these kids have spent most of their lives within the walls of the hospital, so this meant a lot to not only them but also to their parents who were finally witnessing their babies having some normalcy in their lives.

Angie smiled as she tied a little girl's skates, an even bigger smile on the little girl the woman tapped her leg, "does that feel okay?" she asked as the little girl nodded shyly, "Not too tight?" the little girl shook her head, "perfect," she said taking her hand and leading her to the ice.

Nico watched from afar, a grin on his face as he watched her skating backwards, the little girl's hands in hers as she navigated her way across the ice. "You have a staring problem cap," Jesper grinned as he waved his hand in front of the man's face. "I don't know what you're talking about," Nico's smile grew as he looked at his teammate, "go make you're self useful, you're supposed to be helping," Nico said pointing towards the group of older kids just standing around awkwardly on the ice.

The woman on the ice finally let go of the little girl's hand as she whispered that she thought she could do it on her own. Angie clapped as the little girl successfully made me way over to her parents who opened their arms and pulled her into a hug. The woman's heart warmed as the mom looked up at her with teary eyes and mouth a short thank you as the little girl skated off with her father.

Nico watched it all unfold, the young woman stood there with a sullen smile on her face as she looked back up to see him staring right at her, cheeks tinted pink as he started skating over to her.

“Doing stuff like this makes me so emotional,” she mumbled with a smile, “makes me feel so grateful to be in this position to give back,” she looked up at him to see his grin growing by the second. “You look happy?” she said changing the topic as he nodded. “Good atmosphere in here,” he shrugged as she hummed in agreement before getting distracted by the sight of Luke and Jack dragging two kids with their sticks.

A gasp immediately left her lips as she felt a cold sting touch her neck and shoulder she spun around to glare at the man who just grinned menacingly. “Neeks,” she hissed as her hand grabbed his, “you're like an ice cube, Fu—” her mouth shut as she caught herself and watched his face break out into a fit of laughter.

His hand was still in hers as her glare sharpened, “why?” “You looked too peaceful,” he nearly giggled as he realized that he really just let the intrusive thoughts win. Her hand squeezed his, “you're hands are so cold, where are your gloves?” “Don't have any” “Get some You weirdo,” she scolded like a mother, “you make millions and you won't buy a nice pair of gloves.”

“Why own gloves when you could just warm them for me?” he said in a smooth tone causing her face to drop as she let go of his hands. Her face screamed amusement as she watched his smile grow by the second, "You think you're so cute." "I am cute!" “That is enough out if you cap, go teach kids to skate,” she spun on her skates to look away from him, her cheeks a deep shade of red as she focused on literally anything else in the room.

Nico let out a laugh at her obvious embarrassment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “It was just a suggestion, Evangeline,” he whispered her name like it was some sort of secret like it was one of the most powerful words in his vocabulary. “It's a time of Goodwill Nico, not whatever the hell you're doing, go help some children,” she spun back around, her face inches from his, “we will talk later,” she said lowly as she manually pushed him in the direction of the kids and the rest of their teammates.

#neveragodau!!#nico x angie #nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

Text

Chocolate Milk

wc: 4.8k pronouns: none used; n/a -- reader has femme best friend warnings: angstttt, fluffy ending, matthew being mean, swearing, mention of alcohol, matthew is a stranger and reader has to live with him, financial struggle/unemployment, a few inappropriate jokes but nothing explicit (think pg-13), consumption of a concerning amount of chocolate milk over a 6 week period warnings for spicy cut-scene: suggestive/mature themes; minors dni (link is here and will also be in the fic for the appropriate context and placement; fic makes perfect sense without cut scene as well it's just for funsies) summary: a down-on-their-luck reader has to crash on bandmemberandgymrat!matthew's couch for the foreseeable future. a couple problems with this: matthew is incredibly hot and also a major asshole ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ OH MY GOD. IT'S DONE. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO. I DID IT. THIS ONE NEARLY ENDED ME WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED IT. i hope you LOVE it; matthew is for sure more like woohyun in this and he is hot and so mean and cocky and... enjoy this, please i'm begging you. <3

Why me?

You had been screaming this question over and over again in your head for the past twenty minutes. Your friend had texted you this afternoon that she'd finally found a contact who had a place for you to crash for awhile. The address she sent you had been a bit far away from the place you were currently crashing and you didn't have enough money for an Uber, so after an hour on the subway this evening and a thirty minute walk after that, you had finally knocked on the door of the apartment your friend had sent you to.

The boy that had opened the door, though shorter in height was muscular and sported several tattoos-- and you knew this because he had greeted you in a black, fitted tank top and boxers. Albeit, you had been quite a bit later than you said you would be, but the fact that he hadn't said more than ten words to you since you'd arrived with your suitcase in hand wasn't helping you to forgive his too-comfortable appearance.

Standing a few feet behind him in the kitchen area, you watch as the boy opens the refrigerator door. Fishing into one of the drawers, he pulls out a water bottle and tosses it to you.

He fails to warn you of the incoming object, however, and before you can scramble to catch it, it connects with your face.

You stare at each other for a long moment until you feel something tickling the skin beneath your nose.

"You're bleeding," the boy says, still expressionless as he continues to stare at you. "And you suck at catching things."

Bringing your hand up to your face, you run your fingers across the skin that is tingling under your nose. He was right: bright, red blood is coating your fingertips.

"Oh, um," you mumble, looking around for something to wipe your nose with. "Is--... Do you have a--?"

A tissue box hurtling towards your face shuts you up as your hands reach up in a panic to catch it.

"Better that time," the boy says, eyebrows raised ever so slightly in amusement.

Pulling a tissue from the tissue box, you dab it around your nose to remove the blood that is still flowing from it. You swallow nervously, glaring at the boy who has been nothing but rude to you this entire time.

He takes a sip from the glass of chocolate milk sitting beside him before placing it on the island counter that he's leaning against. "Is it broken?"

"What?" You ask, brow furrowing softly.

"Your nose," he responds, meeting your gaze again. "Is it broken?"

You frown. "I doubt it. It doesn't even hurt really."

"Damn," he says, shaking his head. "Disappointing."

Your eyebrows raise incredulously at the boy's words. "Were you trying to break my nose!?"

"Nah, of course not," he denies, turning to look at his right bicep. He prods the muscle before adding, "Just kind of pathetic that I couldn't, you know? Guess I've gotta up my reps from now on."

You're not sure when your jaw started dropping, but it clearly had no intention of stopping any time soon. "You--... You--."

Before you can say anything else, the boy places his empty glass in the sink and walks out of the kitchen area and towards his bedroom-- leaving you entirely speechless. After a moment of internally screaming 'wtf', you turn around to yell at him.

"HEY!" You shout, catching the boy just as he's about to shut the door to his bedroom. "What are you doing!?"

"Closing the door," he answers simply, starting to close the door again.

"Closing the--," you say, tongue pressed to your cheek as you look up to the ceiling and shake your head in disbelief. "This was a terrible mistake. I’m leaving.”

Walking towards the apartment door, you wrap your hand around the handle of your suitcase and pull it behind you. As you reach the door, you turn the knob and throw it open in a huff…

Only to suddenly feel your suitcase gain 100 pounds.

You tug at it uselessly to try to get it to budge, but eventually you are forced to give up and turn back around to see what the problem is.

Finding the suitcase handle, your breath hitches when you see a hand gripping the blue plastic next to yours. You follow that veiny hand up past the arm its connected to until you’re finally looking its owner in the eye.

You swallow hard, not knowing how to properly react as you pull the suitcase harder. “Let go.”

He does, but the sudden lack of equal and opposite force on the suitcase sends you flying back against the door— shutting it closed behind you in the process.

The boy steps towards you, your heart racing in response as your mind runs through all the possible ways he could kill you and dispose of your body.

Click.

His fingers turn the lock on the doorknob.

Clank.

He locks the deadbolt above it.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” You shout suddenly, no longer able to contain your fear.

He stares at you for a moment, face less than a foot away from yours. Then, he snorts. “I was actually trying to keep you from getting killed. I don’t know if you noticed, but this building isn’t in that great of an area. The guy down the hall got murdered at the vending machine at 10 P.M. just last week actually.”

You blink back at him, wide eyed.

“But if you'd prefer to go out there, I’ll just go ahead and open this door up for you and you can—.”

You turn around, pressing your hands against the door to keep him from opening it. “I’ll just… stay here. But only for tonight.”

“Sure you will.”

You frown, turning back around to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you have nowhere else to go, so,” the boy says, face expressionless. “You wouldn’t be trying to shack up on some rando’s couch for the foreseeable future if you weren’t.”

You sigh. The asshole is unfortunately right.

“I go to the gym early every morning and I have band practice until late at night-- which I missed tonight for you; who decided it was polite and reasonable to be two hours late without even sending a text," he says, walking back towards his room. “But what I'm getting at is: you won't see me unless you're trying to. So I'll know if you're trying to."

Scoffing, you stand there with your suitcase in this bastard of a man’s apartment-- completely helpless to the situation at hand.

“But if I hear so much as a peep out of you while I’m sleeping, you’re out on the street-- do you hear me?”

He doesn't wait for you to answer. Instead, he shuts the door to his room closed; leaving you alone in the combined kitchen and living area in the small one bedroom apartment. Resignedly, you slink towards the couch and sit down; finally pulling out your phone to text your friend after experiencing this utter disaster that she had set you up for.

BITCH WTF

???

this man is the rudest, most insufferable human being in the world. why did u tell me to go live with him

Matthew? Insufferable? Maybe a bit abrasive but...

he threw a water bottle at my face so hard my nose bled and then got upset when he found out it wasn't broken

Awww... I think he likes you :)

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!? he's a fucking crazy person

You just don't know each other yet. Don't worry too much about it. You needed a place to stay and you got one... Beggars can't be choosers

watch it

Gn xx

You throw your phone down beside you onto the couch, lying down on your back as you curse your friend.

Matthew...

He hadn't even had the common courtesy to introduce himself. In fact, you would've gone on not knowing his name if it wasn't for your friend having told you just now.

Luckily, even in the strange new environment, exhaustion begins to take over after the long train ride and walk you'd been on all evening. Sinking into the old, leather couch and pulling the navy blue throw blanket draped on its arm over your body, you eventually drift off while scrolling through TikTok as the hum of the refrigerator lulls you to sleep.

A few days pass quietly in this way. Though Matthew had claimed you'd never see him unless you tried, you'd found it easy at first to get a glimpse of him when he came in through the apartment door around 2 A.M. every night. The click of the doorknob and clank of the deadbolt always stirred you from your sleep, though you'd keep your eyes closed as he walked past where you laid on the couch.

But one night, just as you were falling back to sleep after Matthew had come home about a half hour prior, you hear his bedroom door click open.

Curiously, you watch as Matthew walks to the fridge, opening the door and peering inside. In the refrigerator light, you can’t help but notice that his features are much softer and sleepier than usual.

“Stop staring,” he says suddenly, jolting you upright on the couch.

You stare at him wide-eyed in the dim light, not sure whether to deny his claim or not. “I wasn’t staring. I—.”

“So why were you pretending to be asleep, huh?” He challenges, eyes boring into you. When you fail to answer, he concludes, “That’s what I thought.”

Matthew sticks his head back in the fridge for a moment before resurfacing— a puzzled look on his face. “Huh.”

“What?”

He closes the refrigerator door, holding up the new carton of chocolate milk you had picked up from the corner store down the street that afternoon. “Where did this come from?”

“I got it today,” you answer with a shrug. “I saw you were out so I grabbed some on my way back here.”

Matthew blinks back at you for several seconds, the puzzled look on his face unfading even after your explanation. He walks to the cupboard and pulls out a glass, setting it on the table as he unscrews the cap of the carton and pours. "I didn't ask you to do that."

Your eyebrows raise in shock at his condemnation of the favor you'd attempted to do for him. "Bastard," you mumble under your breath.

"Don't waste your money," he says, bringing the glass to his lips and chugging the liquid in less than three seconds. "You're supposed to be saving it," he scolds as he sets the glass in the sink, walking out of the kitchen and back to his room.

"And go to bed."

That's all Matthew says before the door to his bedroom slams shut once more.

~super spicy cut scene 🌶️ HERE 🌶️... minors dni ... continue reading below ... rest of story makes full sense without additional scene so return here after reading or SKIP IF YOU ARE A MINOR~

You don't see Matthew again for another week. You've been exercising again, tiring your body out so you can sleep well on the old leather couch that you now call your bed. You wake up each morning and its as if the boy had never come home at all.

The only sign of his existence is another empty glass in the sink, which had undoubtedly been filled with chocolate milk the night before while you were sleeping just a few feet away.

You wash each new empty glass every morning. He must notice, but he never says anything.

You've applied to several music teaching jobs, but haven't made it past the interview stage for any of them so far. Most of them say they're looking for someone with more recent experience at this point. You're now considering branching out to any field that will hire you.

You're asleep by 10 P.M. tonight, a long walk that accidentally ended up being mostly uphill turning your legs to jelly as they melted into the beat-up couch. It's one of the soundest sleeps you've ever had, until a soft melody begins to wake you...

Eyes fluttering awake much to your chagrin, you look around the room expecting to see light flooding through the windows. You're surprised instead when the only light you see is leaking through a crack in Matthew's bedroom door.

The strumming of an acoustic guitar, accompanied by a gentle male voice is what must have woken you. You sit upright, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you grab your phone from the end table and check the time.

2:34 A.M. He must've just gotten home from band practice, you think. Why is he still playing?

Curiously, you stand up and tiptoe to Matthew's bedroom door. He hadn't shut it all the way and you can see him in the reflection of his standing mirror. He's wearing grey sweatpants and a black, fitted tank top as he works the guitar-- eyes closed and brows furrowed tensely as he sings with it.

He looks hot.

You shake your head quickly, expelling the troubling thought as soon as it pops into your head and correcting it:

He looks frustrated.

You listen closer, trying to catch the lyrics or the tone of the song. Matthew's voice is a lot better than you thought it would be. You had secretly been hoping he sucked so that you could hold it over the asshole's head forever. But he doesn't suck. And far from it...

But there is something slightly off. You place your ear closer to the door, trying to figure out what the problem is. As he holds out the last note of a particular phrase, it hits you.

And you accidentally hit the door, sending it flying open as Matthew's eyes meet yours through the mirror. You grimace awkwardly as he stares back at you unamusedly.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?"

You step into Matthew's bedroom, looking around through sleepy eyes at each corner. You were surprised to find he had a bed frame and not an old, messy mattress on the floor. He had seemed like the type.

"You woke me up," you say with a frown. "Why are you allowed to make noise while I'm sleeping?"

"Because I'm the only one paying rent," he says simply, raising a small glass of what looks to be whiskey to his lips.

Your brows furrow defensively. "I was going to help with rent."

"With what money?" He asks rhetorically, setting the glass back down on his desk. "Have you found a job yet?"

Chewing your cheek in defeat, you answer softly, "No."

"Mm," he hums in response, returning his attention to his guitar.

"But I've been trying," you add, folding your arms across your chest. "Really hard. It's just that my field is... saturated."

"Mmhm," he mumbles dismissively. You shake your head, rolling your eyes at the boy who you were now forced to coexist with.

"Whatever. I was actually gonna tell you you sounded nice," you say, walking back towards the door. "But you actually sounded pretty flat so. Choke on a dick."

You're just about to step back into the living area when Matthew calls softly behind you, "Did I actually sound flat?"

You turn around and nod at him, taking in his curious expression for a moment. "It's most noticeable on the ending pitches."

"I knew it," he says, sighing in defeat.

This is the first time you've ever seen real emotion from Matthew. He's definitely upset that he's not sounding the way he wants to. It's refreshing to see him give a shit about something for once.

"It's because you're lingering on your consonants too long," you advise calmly as his eyes meet yours. "You need to get to your vowels faster or you're gonna stay under the pitch."

His eyes narrow suspiciously. "How do you know that? What are you-- some sort of vocal coach?"

"Uh," you stumble, smiling awkwardly back at him. "Yeah, actually."

"No you're not," he accuses with a frown. "I've never heard you sing before. Not even once."

"Obviously. I'm not allowed to make a peep while you're here or you'll kick me out, remember?"

Matthew leans back in his desk chair. "You're being for real? You're really a trained vocal coach?"

You nod, pressing your lips together. "I'm also a jazz saxophonist. Turns out neither are very lucrative professions."

He's silent-- just staring back at you as if he's lost in thought.

"You have a good voice, though," you say, walking towards the door once more when it seems like he's not going to respond to you again tonight. "And I liked the song. But I think it could use some work."

You take one last look at him, his face soft and sleepy like it had been that night a few days after you'd just moved in. He's gazing down at his guitar, tapping his fingers against the body lightly before you finally close the door.

"Well I've been afraid of changing, 'cause I built my life around you..."

The lyrics flow out of you as the hot water hits your body and falls down to the floor of the shower beneath you. Matthew might live in a shitty apartment building, but one thing they did have...

Good water pressure.

"But time makes you bolder; even children get older and I'm feeling older, too..."

Thud.

You freeze as you hear a loud noise come from the other side of the bathroom door. A million thoughts race through your head, but one sticks out most of all: is someone else in the apartment?

Matthew wouldn't be home for hours. And you'd deadbolted the door to the apartment...

Hadn't you?

Fight response kicking in, you shut off the water and fling open the shower curtain. Wrapping a large towel around you, you open the bathroom door and step into the living area cautiously. Walking around, you look for any signs of an intruder but, after a thorough search... you don't find any.

What you do find is your phone on the ground next to the couch, when you were sure you'd placed it on the end table. But with the windows open and the summer evening breeze blowing into the apartment, you try to convince yourself as best you can that your phone has simply fallen off its perch.

Changing into your pajamas, you watch TV for a while before falling asleep for the night on your makeshift bed.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

The light buzzing against your chest wakes you up, looking around in a daze for the culprit. Finally, you locate your phone and bring it up to your face; blinking the sleep away as you read the screen as best as you can.

3:57 A.M.

Mom

Decline Accept

You decline the call quickly after reading the time, instead texting your mother:

i can't talk. what's wrong?

Your mom types back fast, as expected:

Nothing's wrong honey! Just wanted to give you a head's up that we had to put your dad's gambling debt on your debit card this month. Luv u x

Your heart jumps to your throat. "No, no, no, no, no," you whisper as your fingers frantically find your mobile banking app. You tap it open, clicking through to your account total which now reads:

-$3,367

Suddenly, you're nauseous and scared and devastated all at once. You had saved $300 in the time since you'd gotten your part-time job at the Italian restaurant around the corner from you two weeks ago. And just like that, you were in serious debt once more.

Would this nightmare ever end?

You're not sure when you started sobbing, but the tears are flowing and they're now a completely unstoppable force. Covering your mouth with your hand, you attempt to stifle the sound of your crying as much as you feasibly can.

But it's all in vain.

The door to Matthew's room flies open, anger radiating off of him. But then he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, reopening them after a moment to stare blankly back at you. He's unmoving as you continue to sob until he finally walks past you to the kitchen area.

Matthew opens the refrigerator door, pulling out a fresh carton of chocolate milk. He opens the cupboard and pulls out a glass before filling it up halfway. He returns to the carton to the fridge and walks over to where you're sitting on the couch, glass in hand.

"Because you're crying like a giant baby, I figured you might need some milk," the boy says, hand with the glass extending out to you.

His words are harsh and sarcastic, but his expression is surprisingly soft. You notice his hair is slightly messy from sleep and his cheeks are puffier than usual. He looks almost innocent...

"Do I have to beat someone up?" He asks quietly.

Suddenly, you realize: this glass of chocolate milk could be Matthew's version of an olive branch.

You take the glass from his hand, slowly bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. You hold the glass in your lap as you meet his gaze.

"I hope not," you say softly. "Considering you wouldn't even be able to break their nose..."

Matthew blinks at you for a few seconds before a sudden grin lights up his face. His smile is broad and happy and if you weren't already sitting down, it would've knocked you off your feet.

The crinkles in the corner of his eyes are youthful and endearing and the laugh that comes out of him is enough to light the entire apartment in the dark.

What the fuck is going on?

When he sees you staring back at him confused, he coughs lightly in what seems to be embarrassment as he averts your gaze. "Go to sleep," he says, walking back to his room quickly. "You can keep crying in the morning."

Though Matthew's words themselves aren't overly comforting, there's something behind them-- something in his voice or maybe the way he glances at back at you before closing the door-- that makes you think that the boy who had once been disappointed he didn't break your nose... might actually give a shit about you after all.

"HOLY FUCK!" You scream, bolting upright from your sleep the next morning when you open your eyes to Matthew staring back at you.

He smirks. "A good face to wake up to, right?"

"No," you say, gripping your heart with your hand. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I hope I didn't," he says, standing up from where he's sitting on the floor in front of you. "You're not getting a new couch no matter how much you shit on it."

"You're more chipper than usual this morning," you say, stretching your arms above your head before dropping them to your lap in sudden realization. "Wait... It's the morning! You're not supposed to be here!"

Matthew laughs, walking over to the kitchen island and grabbing his keys. "Come on. We're going."

"What?" You ask confusedly. "Going where?"

"To breakfast," he answers simply.

"Why would we--?"

"Because there's no food in the house," he answers plainly again.

You frown. "I was gonna go pick up some groceries yesterday, but--."

"But you didn't," he cuts you off again quickly. "So you have 100 seconds to get ready and then we're going."

You blink at him, wondering what on earth had gotten into this man.

"100... 99... 98..." Matthew begins counting down; the sudden pressure causing you to jump to your feet, grab some clothes from your suitcase next to the couch and run to the bathroom.

Panicking, you brush your teeth and wash the sleep from your eyes before changing into the jeans and shirt you had haphazardly plucked from your suitcase. Fixing your hair, you can hear Matthew still counting faintly from outside the bathroom door.

You fling it open just as he's about to say "seven"; brushing past him to grab your phone from the couch.

"Oh look at you," he says, a smug little smile on his lips. "So efficient with your time."

"Let's just go," you mumble, unlocking the door to the apartment and stepping outside in a huff as you watch the smile on Matthew's face only grow wider.

"Can I have your cream?"

Your eyes widen in shock. "My--... my cream?"

"Yeah, your coffee cream," he says, pointing to the tiny containers of milk creamer that you've left untouched next to your coffee cup. "If you're not gonna use it."

"I--... I am gonna use it actually, thank you very much," you huff out, trying to shake the image that Matthew had unknowingly created from your mind as you pick up one of the creamer packets and dump it into your coffee.

You look up at Matthew as you place the empty container down to find the infuriatingly attractive boy smirking at you-- teeth lightly biting down on the left side of his bottom lip.

"Did you think I meant something else?" He asks with a cocky chuckle.

You pour the second packet of creamer into your coffee, exhaling deeply as you chew your cheeks to keep yourself from screaming. "If you had, I would've poured this hot coffee down your shirt."

"I'll admit that's a very creative way to get a glimpse under my shirt," Matthew counters, leaning back in the booth seat and folding his arms across his chest. He positions his forearms just under where his pectoral muscles end, humorously trying to emphasize them for you.

It is unfortunately having its desired affect on you.

"If I had known that you stopping being so rude to me would lead to you amping up the inappropriate flirting I would've--."

"Tried to make it happen sooner?" Matthew says, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

You pick up your spoon and dunk it in your coffee cup, stirring a little too aggressively as some of the hot liquid splashes onto the table. You're about to grab a napkin to wipe up the small spill, but a veiny, slightly-calloused hand beats you to it.

He dabs up the spill with his napkin and retracts his hand before meeting your gaze again. "I know you're in serious debt."

You stare back at him, not sure whether or not to deny his accusation. Ultimately, you're too curious to fight back. "How do you know?"

"You left your phone open," he says nonchalantly. "When I was getting ready to go to the gym this morning, your bank info was just lying there."

You laugh sadly. "Good thing I have nothing to steal."

"I thought you were working at that restaurant on 5th Street," he says, taking a sip from his coffee mug. "What happened to that?"

"Nothing happened," you say, staring into your own cup of coffee. "I'm still working there."

"And you haven't managed to save anything?" He asks, eyes free of their usual judgment. "Is that why you were upset?"

Slowly, you shake your head. Why you were about to divulge your personal information to a virtual stranger (albeit a virtual stranger that you live with) was beyond you. But you answer honestly anyway, "My parents charged their own debt to my account this month. It's not the first time they've done it. It won't be the last."

Matthew studies you for a second. "Does that have anything to do with why you had nowhere to live in the first place?"

"I was fine paying it off for a while, each time they'd add a new charge. I'd just spend a little less that month. A lotta less, actually. But I was fine," you explain slowly. "But when the pandemic hit, the arts school I was teaching at closed down. And so did a lot of other arts and music programs across the country. And I just haven't been able to find a job or recover financially since."

The boy sitting across from you is quiet for a few moments, taking a sip of his coffee and placing the cup back down on its saucer. You think maybe he's reached his talking quota for the day, when he suddenly says, "I know someone who needs a vocal coach."

You tilt your head curiously to the side. "Who?"

"Me."

Unfortunately you'd taken a sip of your coffee just before Matthew had given his answer. You choke slightly as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe from the shock; clearing your throat before responding, "WHAT!?"

"Someone whose band just got signed to a local record label is gonna need a good vocal coach, don't you think?"

You watch as a smile grows on his face; the sun suddenly making an appearance smack-dab in the middle of Joe's City Diner. It's impossible to keep the corners of your lips from also turning up when your roommate has suddenly decided to start being the cutest person you've ever seen before.

"That's--... That's amazing," you congratulate him. "Breakfast is on m--."

"Me," he says with a laugh. "It's on me. Unless we're dining and ditching. But I wanna be able to keep coming back here, so let's just let me pay, yeah?"

A little embarrassed, you nod in agreement. "Right."

"Plus, it's my way to convince you to be my vocal coach," he says with a smirk. "Is it working?"

You sigh, a small smile forming on your lips, too. "I dunno. I'm kind of out of practice at this point..."

"I'll pay you $75/hour for two lessons a week."

"Deal," you say quickly, hand extending across the table before you can even think it through properly.

He grins, taking your hand in his and shaking it. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"You as well," you say quietly, blushing as you retract your hand. “But… can I ask why? If you have $150 to spare, you could hire anyone. And, honestly, I thought that you hated me until... Until right now, actually. Why are you helping me?”

Matthew chews his lip for a second, folding his hands in his lap. “Because you bought me chocolate milk.”

A little pout forms on your lip as you try to figure out what he’s talking about. “What?”

“When I ran out,” he says, nodding simply. “You went to the corner store and got me a new carton. When you first moved in.”

You frown. “You told me never to do that again!”

“I told you not to waste your money again,” he says shrugging. “But it was thoughtful of you… and I appreciated it.”

You blink back at him, not sure what to say to his after-the-fact thank you. After a moment, you nod-- a small smile on your lips.

He takes another sip of his coffee. "And you're not out of practice by the way."

Your eyebrows furrow, wondering what Matthew means by this.

"I heard you singing last night in the shower," he says, smiling. "I knew for sure you weren't lying when I heard you."

Suddenly, you remember the thud you had heard while showering the night before. "YOU WERE LISTENING TO ME SHOWER!?"

Matthew laughs. "I forgot my capo at home and I needed it for band practice and--..." The smile drops from his face when he realizes what you had meant. "NO! No, oh my god, no. No, no, no-- not like that I--."

"Why so defensive?" You ask with a smirk, one eyebrow cocking playfully. "Just wanted to show you I can play that game, too."

You watch relief floods his face as he grins. "I'd ask you to put your money where your mouth is, but..."

"Asshole."

His smile exudes a bit of fondness now, much different from his smirk or his sunshine-filled grin. It's soft; warm. "You have a beautiful voice."

You look down int your coffee cup, bottom lip tucking between your teeth awkwardly. "Thanks."

"And if you sing while I'm home, I won't kick you out. In fact, that can be your rent payment."

You start to shake your head in protest, but he just laughs.

"That way I don't have to eavesdrop while you shower," Matthew jokes. "Unless you want me to."

"You've got to be kidding--."

"And maybe we can get breakfast like this more often."

There's a flutter in your heart again. Just like when he'd told you to go to bed earlier this morning. His words weren't flowery or overly emotional or caring in themselves...

But it's that look in his eyes; the tone in his voice.

"Breakfast and vocal lessons it is," you agree softly. "But I get to add something to the deal too..."

He smiles at you, brows raised in anticipation.

"You share your chocolate milk with me more often."

Matthew's eyes narrow as he studies you for a moment. You think for a second that his love for chocolate milk might be too strong...

But then he nods.

"Deal."

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

Text

Unsolicited 20

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

Your cheeks are flushed with heat as the server returns with your entrees. Lloyd shamelessly keeps his hand nestled between your tingling thighs, clamped in an attempt at modesty. He sits forward to eat with his free hand as you can barely keep your head from wobbling. You feel as if everyone in the place has witnessed your undoing.

“Mmm, better get it while it’s hot,” he scoops up a mouthful of season potatoes, “I’m not spending money for nothing, babe.”

He pinches you before finally removing his hand. He takes his knife, not bothering to wipe the glisten from his fingers, as he cuts into his filet. You slowly sit up as your eyes flick over to Colin as he reads over the bill.

He avoids meeting your gaze but you’re happy for it, humiliated and hot. You pick at the lobster tail with your fork and peer down at your plate. This night couldn’t be over soon enough.

“Aw, don’t pout, baby, I’m just getting started,” he bites into a chunk of juicy beef, chewing noisily.

“Hey!” There’s a shout and the clatter of a tray as empty dishes crash onto the floor. You look up as a man shoves a waiter out of his way, skidding on his soles as he stops beside Colin’s table, “what the fuck is going on here?”

Your mouth falls open as Lloyd reaches for his whiskey and finishes it with a pop of his lips, “looks like he got my message.”

“What?” You look at him as he watches with delight.

“Tell me you haven’t dreamed of this. Look at the coward, he’s about to piss his pants.”

“Wh–why?”

“Oh come on, you should be thanking me,” he leans back and drapes his arm over your shoulders, “in fact, you’re gonna thank me. On the way back. When we get there. And so on. The night is young, sweet cheeks.”

You look back to the scene across the restaurant, reminded of the night you came and Colin left you alone and nearly sobbing. The words he said to you then and after. The accusations that proved to be little more than projection.

For once, you agree with this douchebag at your elbow. He deserves this.

“That’s my fucking wife!” The much bigger man drags Colin out of his seat. Your husband couldn’t be called small but he was shorter and more slender than the bull shaking him by his collar, “my slut of a wife!”

Those words sting and you tilt your head. You know what it’s like to be on the receiving end yet you can’t feel sorry for the blond grabbing onto the angry man’s arm. She did this. They both did. They ruined two marriages for what?

“Do you ever come here without making a scene?” You lift your cocktail and drain it until there’s only a few chips of melted ice.

“I don’t do quiet,” he shrugs and goes back to his meal, “and I like a show with my dinner.”

You sniff as a gaggle of waiters try to calm the raging man throttling your husband. The mention of police moves the rabble towards the door but not without chaos. Table wobble with the impact of the intertwined man as heels click in their stead, following the fight outside.

“I need another drink,” you put your glass down, “preferably a double.”

Lloyd raises his hand and whistles, “garcon.”

You cringe and sink down lower. His quick response would be flattering if it wasn’t completely patronizing.

💎

Your stomach is unsettled, the pasta sitting like a lump as your anxiety flickers in your chest. You sit back in the low car seat and frame your forehead with your hand. A nice relaxing shower somehow ended in you being wound tighter than before.

"Baby, better keep me awake, you don't want me falling asleep at the wheel, do ya?" Lloyd says as he steers out into the street, giving his stomach a slap, "god, that was good, wasn't it?"

His hand slips down and he flicks his belt. You straighten in your seat as his eyes flash at you in the rearview. You repress your agitation and reach between the seats, bending over the stick as you pull back the tail of his belt.

It's just one thing after the other, you gripe inwardly, this man will never let you relax. Never let you catch your breath.

You unhook his belt and open his fly. You want to get home and go to bed. He's just a man, you get him off and he'll be ready for the same. He's hard as you reach beneath the fabric, unsurprised by his lack of briefs.

You take him out and stroke him mechanically. Men are easy when they have their pants down. Your husband proved that. With his own boss. His ex that he never shut up about. You should've known. You were never good enough and now look at you.

You push your mouth around him, grazing him with your teeth.

"Eh, put some love into it," he flinches and rests his hand on your head, "fuck."

You loosen your throat and grimace around him. You bob up and down, the noise making you sick, stirring the storm already whirling in your stomach. He clutches your air as you ignore the ache in your jaw.

Your eyes water at the sudden awareness of yourself, of what you're doing, of how you won't stop. You have nothing and this man made sure of that. Tonight wasn't a favour, it was just another reminder of his power over you.

You drag your tongue up and down, flicking around his tip. You wiggle your nose and force back the haze of tears. No, he won't see you like that. He's seen enough. You're just buzzed, maybe a bit depressed.

You bring your hand up and work him diligently. He groans and swerves as he squeezes his fistful of hand.

"Jeez, baby, you're gonna get us in trouble," he chortles and shoves you down, "ah, you little slut, you already got me ready to blow."

He takes over, guiding your pace as his fingers stretch over your skull. He drags you along his length and groans.

"Yeah, you gobble that dick," he slithers, "I'm gonna cum and you're gonna drink it up, yeah…."

He pushes you to his limit and his hips buck. He snarls and slams on the break, spilling down your throat as he sputters. He grips the wheel tight and holds you in place and drowns you until you're gagging.

He lets you go and you sit up, coughing as you spit up his cum. You fall against the leather as your body vibrates and you cover your face in shame.

"Please," you rasp, "I want to go home."

"Home," he shifts back into gear with a scoff, "what home?"

#lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #unsolicited #the grey man #the gray man #series #dark drabble #drabble #dark!drabble

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ramblesbiab · 3 months

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sometimes all I need is to be a small town girl in 1960s pennsylvania who's worried about not being attracted to any of the boys in town. All the other gals are startin' to get hitched, after all, and mama's startin' to get on my back about not bein' able to find my special someone.

Things all change, though, when we take a trip out to Kennywood - money's tight on the ol' farm, but daddy wanted to surprise us after a good season. There's so many people in one place it nearly makes my head spin. It's not long before I'm split off from my parents, what with all my siblings tearing them every which way.

As if my nerves aren't on end enough, my body freezes right in place as I catch notice of a group of city gals. Hard to even tell they're gals - they're dressed in black, with short hair and tall boots. I gulp when one looks at me. She's - she's pretty. Not a type of pretty I ever seen before, but it's hard to call her anythin' else.

"Need something, doll?" she calls out of nowhere. Her group snickers as she kicks off the wall she was leanin' against and walks closer. My eyes whip up and down her obnoxious outfit. It's so - shiny. I wonder how it feels. "My eyes are up here, doll."

"I wasn't...," I start, but the issue is, I was. My cheeks go hot. I'd run but my feet are still stuck. "Sorry," I squeak.

"Never said it was a problem," she whispers. Her voice low and sweet like fresh honey, drippin' from her deep black lips. She steps even closer. Her group isn't laughin' anymore, but she is, right in my face.

"What do you want?" I cross my arms and puff my chest the best I can. Mama always tells me to be more confident in myself, otherwise the world will step all over me. Hard not to feel like I'm already bein' stepped on, though, as the gal throws her head back from laughin' even harder. "Rude."

"It's more rude to stare, doll."

"Well I think it's more rude to laugh in a stranger's face," I counter. Her eyes glimmer, and she reaches a hand up. Two fingers liftin' my chin. I gulp again.

"Oh yeah?" she asks. "So it'd be better if I wasn't a stranger, then?" My mouth hangs open a bit. Her jawline is so sharp. She nods, and once my head catches on to that fact, I find myself lookin' at the Old Mill.

I know gossip's a sin, but I've heard plenty a rumor about the Old Mill. Especially with gals like this. Gals who look like they've never worn a proper dress in their life and got their hair caught in a tornado. There's not one good reason for me to go with her. I should go find one of my younger siblings and take 'em on the carousel.

"I've never been on that," I whisper instead, my teeth tuggin' at my lower lip. I've never been this nervous. It's a fluffy kind of nervous, the kind other gals talk about feelin' around boys. Butterflies floatin' around my stomach and all that.

"Wanna change that?" She starts walking before I answer. I follow. Her group trails us, looking between each other and snickerin' to themselves. I could still run. Get the - pardon me - hell out of here, maybe even tell mama I'm sick.

For reasons I can't for the life of me figure out, I stay by the pretty gal's side. "What's your name?" I whisper.

"Call me Jackie," she grins. "Yours?"

"Lily," I answer. We're quiet for the rest of the line. Jackie loads into the boat first, rocking it slightly as her long legs try to fit in place. She nods me in.

We're - close. Real close. My seat's damp but I hardly notice as we're lurched forward. "Hey, easy now," she teases. "It's a bit of a rough ride. You better get used to it."

"Yeah." My thighs squeeze together. Darkness covers us both. The trickling of water is almost calming, but it's interrupted as she reaches out of the boat and starts holding at the wall. "You're not supposed to be out of the boat."

"I'll be back in a second, doll. Don't have to be so needy," she coos. I don't know what that means. I don't need anythin' from a gal like her. This is just - her showin' me a ride I hadn't been on. Then it sets in what she's doing, as our boat slows a crawl. "There we go."

I have no clue what to say. That's one half of the rumor true. My teeth find my lip again. I'm not thinkin' straight right now, not at all. This is a mistake. It has to be.

Not much I can do about it now. I turn to her. "So."

"So," she repeats. Her hand moves to my thigh. Before I can stop myself, a whimper leaves my throat. Oh lord. This isn't right. Mama raised me better then this, then to fall for a damn temptress. "You nervous?"

"I've never been on this," I breathe out. My body leans into hers. I look up into her eyes, inky but still glowing. "I've... I've never cared much for other rides here. Maybe this'll be the one I like."

Jackie laughs, kinder this time. "It better be." Her hand drifts up to the back of my neck, and she pulls me closer. Her breath on my lips. It's heavenly. "Do you want this, Lily?"

"I might." I touch her arm, teasin' up it slowly with a few fingers. "You think you can help me be sure?"

"Gladly," she smirks. Then it happens. Her lips on mine, warm and pillowy. My body tenses up all at once, then relaxes. This is beyond anythin' I've ever felt before. Her hand dives into my hair and I melt against it. "You like that, doll?"

"Uh huh," is all I can get out. Her other hand gets on me too. I know it's wrong, but goddamn does it feel right. I kiss her deeply, so deep our teeth clack and she laughs into my mouth.

I don't know what happens when the ride ends, but that doesn't matter now. The next few minutes belong to the darkness, and to the woman holding me tightly.

ahem

but anyway yeah, that would be cool.

#sapphic #lesbian #this was supposed to #be a short post #I don't know what happened #kennywood #pride month #old mill #gosh #butch4femme #butch lesbian #femme lesbian

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xenosagaepisodeone · 3 months

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it's so funny that this documentary exists. a retrospective on a band that has existed for nearly 30 years that is as tepid as said band's creative output. This is all clearly marketing for I guess younger post-covid nickelback fans who weren't old enough to participate in making fun of nickelback when it was the in thing, but ultimately the documentary has nothing to say because there isnt anything to say. a representative from their label accidentally alludes to this: for a time, nickelback's uncontroversial commercial sound was the only thing keeping the lights on at the studio, and the money they made went on to support the metal artists under the same label (take from that what you will). the beats the doc takes us through are the following: "were small town guys who aggressively marketed and got big because we were in spider-man" "we had some health problems, but we're fine now" "we were a meme and it kind of hurt our feelings, but were fine now" "we had some lows where things were difficult for us creatively, but were fine now". there's even a dramatic point where one band member talks about nervously going back to make amends with a bandmate they had to kick out and....it goes completely fine. No talk of struggles with sex or drugs or family, even! A largely safe, frictionless career, which is probably why this film struggles to escape the confines of it's blatant marketing framing. nickelback was monoculture without a brand in the 2000s (at least Here In Canada). This is How You Remind Me was smattered all over the radio for years (the documentary mentioned at one point nickelback would be played on the radio once ever 3 minutes in the US) but what was nickelback as a band? the exact same as seether or creed or 3 doors down...did I mention that their current drummer is actually the former drummer of 3 doors down? the film is painfully aware that part of the reason why it was so easy to take potshots at nickelback was because of this interchangeable identity but refuses to contend with it. as ryan reynolds proclaims at the beginning and towards the end of the film "it's time to admit nickelback is actually awesome", because if they sound good, what else do they need to really be, right?

if taylor swift is monoculture as horror then nickelback is monoculture as existential horror, specifically. at one point in the doc, chad kroeger says that he doesn't know what he is without nickelback, that the band is more or less his identity, and that all he would be without it is "the guy who makes jokes". this could easily be played up to give some semblance of heart, but I don't think it's necessarily dishonest. at a point, kroeger talks to his brother about how they can't rely on doing covers as often as they do. at his concert he wears band shirts for other bands (not a weird thing on its own btw just in this one context). Hes aware of being "nirvana-lite" and its likely the inspiration behind his infamous ramen hair/beard look. his mom says that being the face of the band is what repels him from getting married or having kids like his brother (do i mention that this doc barely gives a shit about the other members). they mention his brief marriage to fellow canadian export avril lavigne, who is the only person he or his wikipedia article ever reference romantically, and I can't help but wonder if there was some motivation to be a canadian musician power couple behind it all. the documentary predictably makes a big deal about the fact he's from canada, and with the lack of well, Self that is present here I can only assume that "canadian" was meant to fill the slot where "identity" was meant to be.

none of this is even me being mean. I like buttrock. when their songs from the aughts come on the radio, I go "mm...alright" and let it play like i do with old eminem or evanescence. my mom is a nickelback superfan (self professed #1 fan, even) and the copy of All The Right Reasons I bought for her birthday when I was 12 is probably one of the few non-burned cds she still has. and when I ask her what she likes so much about them beyond the passable rock angle, she goes "chad kroeger is so cute n_n"

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allwormdiet · 20 days

Text

Agitation 3.1

Got waylaid by work and brain weather, but we're back to it. Let's see how Taylor's life is going

Her routine has come up before, but it bears saying that I think Taylor's actual superpower might just be that she's a morning person who can hold herself to accomplish daily goals, like goddamn girl

The constant, casual cruelty that makes up so much of Taylor's history is equal parts saddening and infuriating. I'm sure we'll get an explanation for why the bullies do this to her, I think I've said as much in previous posts, but also as mentioned in previous posts I find it aggravating to endure.

...I don't know if this is quite the right place in my reading to speculate on it, but I'm not sure if Taylor even has a shot at university at this point, even setting aside the cape thing. The bullies are all in her year, which means they'd never be separated from her by graduation. Their constant sabotage and harassment would mean her grades are low, so even if she gets into a college with whatever GPA she can bodge together (and no extracurriculars to pad her application out), she's probably not going to earn any scholarships and money's already pretty tight for the Heberts. That means student loans, and probably shit rates considering the world they're in.

Maybe this is my bitter ass reflecting on how the greatest benefits I got out of going to college were completely incidental to the courses I took or the degree I earned, but... Taylor, I know college meant a lot to your mom, I just don't think that path is nearly as open to you as it used to be. I think it's fine to just learn a trade, and I think it's fine if the trade is armed robbery.

So you're telling me Taylor's self-image used to be worse? Jeeesus

I like that Brian knows how to blend into an environment as the situation calls for it. That speaks to a pretty keen observational ability, and also is maybe tied to his need to act more grown-up than he is. And now I'm sad again.

"I want" is cute, embarrassment is for suckers (I say, easily embarrassed)

I don't even like coffee, but a fifteen dollar coffee had better be the best coffee you've ever had, oh my god

And honestly that must have been weird for every member of the team, just suddenly having money not be a problem anymore. Taylor's holding out for now, although I suspect it won't be that way forever, and everyone else either wants or needs it bad enough for their own ends that I don't think they're gonna think about it too hard (except for Lisa, who has the full context and whose power is thinking too hard)

Taylor please don't undersell your injuries to your teammates, I don't like you doing it with your dad but I understand it. Here though? Come onnnnn

Yeah there we go

Violence is an easy language to understand. Cruel, obviously, and painful, but if Rachel is already struggling with other people's words and feelings (five bucks says she's autistic tbh) then getting the shit kicked out of her is probably a better sell on the new recruit than any pretty speech

...Ideally they move past that pretty quick so words can be used again

Also poor Rachel, for real. Ten years in the system and then whatever it was that triggered her powers, which is obviously never good. No wonder she came out the other end more willing to trust dogs than people.

Ugh, my heart

Is she showing off for the guy she's crushing on? That's adorable

Curious that the limits of her power seem to be based on complexity of the brain. I assume there has to be a brain at all or else she could just shoot germs at people, although that'd also be a little bit inefficient as a power unless she started getting into disease warfare and holy shit this would be a very different story if Taylor could give people smallpox

Gotta be a weird day for the crab though

Couple things here

Brian you're not even eighteen yet as far as I know, what the hell

Of course Lisa cheated, she's built to cheat, at that point I'm not sure it even counts as cheating

Knowing what I know about Alec, somehow I doubt he was ever in school to drop out in the first place

...on the flipside I'm a little surprised that Rachel never went during her time in the system, you'd figure that'd be a condition of her fostering but either the guardians didn't give a shit or she fought her way out of ever actually attending

Also, I know it's a matter of course that she'd have a key to the base, but it's sweet all the same

It's nice of Brian to make this offer, although I'm willing to bet it's because he's the only Undersider who would get up before 6 AM. It's also a pretty smart call to keep her up to date this way

Also very funny that Taylor is like "Oh I like Lisa just fine but she scares the shit out of me"

...Also also, for real, Lisa has to already know what's going on with Taylor right? There's no way Taylor's good enough at lying to bury that one.

Girl I'm dreading it and I'm just reading about it

This is just. So goddamn sad. And maddening, to boot.

Gee Taylor you sure to seem to spend a fair amount of time thinking about the comparative attractiveness of other women

Agonizing, though, for real. Wildbow has knocked every school scene out of the park and I hate it.

I wonder if Taylor's gonna even bother coming back to school at this point. First day she left mid lunch, second day she left right after lunch started, here she's splitting before first period. As much as she clings to this side of her life... I don't know if it's any healthier than full-time villainy.

Go blow off steam with your new friends Taylor

Current Thoughts

I actually don't have any real expectations for this arc going into it. Obviously Arc 1 is the start of... I mean kind of everything, and Arc 2 is made up of the immediate aftermath from those events. This one? I dunno. I was a little worried I'd have to deal with another chapter of Winslow, but it looks like Taylor decided she was sick of that shit

I like Brian, but I think mostly I'm worried for him? This is a lot of effort so far made to seem mature and normal, and I don't know if that's possible for a teenager who goes out to be a supervillain. It's admirable in a sense, but I'm worried about how fragile it leaves him.

I don't love that Rachel seems satisfied by an exchange of violence but that's more bc I don't want these kids beating the shit out of each other, not any kind of "this is bad actually" sense.

Other than that I'm mostly just curious what the rest of this arc looks like. Thank fuck it's not more high school.

Oh, yeah, I'm gonna try and read more at work today, I might take my screenshots then and see if they drive me up a wall, but even if so I'll just retake them when I get home. Fingers crossed work is slow enough for it.

#parahumans #worm liveblogging #liveblog #worm agitation #wormblr

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bi-bard · 1 year

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I Don't Need to Break Down, You Still Found Me - Nikolai Lantsov Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: I Don't Need to Break Down, You Still Found Me

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov X Reader

Word Count: 1,572 words

Warning(s): mention of unhealthy relationship (manipulation, burnout) and unhealthy family

Summary: [Inspired by "Slow Burn" by J. Maya] A new person joins Sturmhond's crew but refuses to talk about their history. One late night reveals secrets about the new member and the captain... and leads to a realization about whatever is between the two of them.

Author's Note: Y'all. This song is so beautiful.

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

I could still remember the nervousness that crawled around my stomach as I stood on the ship for the first time.

The entire crew had been standing there, staring at me as we waited for the captain to come out. It felt like a test. As if they were trying to see if I would crack and run for it. Sadly for them, my need to run from this place was far stronger than my fear.

The captain came out. He was introduced as Sturmhond. I had to bite back the urge to make a comment about how fake that name sounded.

I was asked why I wanted to be there.

I lied and said that I was curious about the world and this ship was my only chance to truly see it.

That seemed to impress him. I could see it in the smirk he offered me as he tilted his head for just a second.

He asked what I could offer.

I didn't lie about that. I didn't have any money to offer him. I had nights upon nights memorizing the layout of any map I could find. I could show them places that may have never considered before.

He raised an eyebrow at me. I felt his eyes tracing over me. Testing me much like the rest of his crew had.

"Come with me," he said simply. I readjusted my small bag on my shoulder and followed him. He ended up leading me to a bunk in the far corner. "This is where you'll stay. We'll assign you to a proper role soon enough."

"Alright," I nodded. He was walking away by the time I spoke up again. "Th-Thank you! Sturmhond, thank you."

"Just don't make me regret it."

I grinned at him, promising that I wouldn't.

I spent weeks trying to prove myself on that ship. Not that I truly needed to. The crew had warmed up to me far faster than I ever expected them to. Even their captain seemed to already be convinced that he wouldn't regret allowing me to join them.

Sturmhond.

He was an interesting man. Throughout my time on his ship, we grew close. It felt like we grew far closer than we should have in such a short period of time. But spending time with him was accompanied by this feeling of calmness that I couldn't make sense of yet felt like I couldn't without.

It wasn't fair that he could have such an effect on me so easily. But I still held onto it. It may have been the best part of being on that ship.

Truly, the only problem I encountered was at night.

Night watch had become the best thing for me. At least then, no one could question why I seemed to get almost no sleep.

But on the nights when I wasn't on watch, I had no excuse. I just had to hide in my little corner and hope that no one realized that I wasn't sleeping nearly as much as I needed to.

No one confronted me about it.

Not until one night.

I was standing near the railing. It was the first night that the corner that I had been hiding in finally felt too small. I needed the moment alone with the air. The night watch was too focused on whatever card game they were playing. To be completely honest, I don't think any of them even knew that I was there. I didn't think that anyone did.

"Trouble sleeping?"

I jumped at the sound of a voice. I looked over to see Sturmhond standing at the base of the steps next to me. He held up his hands up.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's alright," I grinned. "Night watch is over there playing cards."

"Well, I wasn't looking for them," he shrugged. "I saw that your bunk was empty, so I wanted to check on you."

"That's very kind of you," I replied. "Was this your normal nightly act of kindness or were you also struggling to sleep?"

He chuckled. "I would like to say both. Rarely sleep well."

I nodded, quietly agreeing with the sentiment. I had rarely slept well since I made it to the ship.

I moved to sit on the top of the steps.

"I'd be glad to keep you company," he offered. "Sit, talk, anything you wish."

"Okay," I nodded.

There was a long pause between us. I expected him to speak first and choose the course of the discussion. But he didn't.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I forced a chuckle.

"You could always start with the truth," he suggested.

I had to actively fight my smile from dropping at the statement. I knew what he was asking. I just didn't want to show him that in the hopes that I could still get out of talking about it. I tilted my head at him.

"I could go first," he added. "If it makes you feel better."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He took a few steps up so our faces were level. He leaned over so he could whisper to me, "My name isn't Sturmhond."

"I knew it," I said. He shushed me quietly, laughing to himself. "What's your name?"

He took a deep breath as if he were embarrassed. "Nikolai."

I tried to hold my laugh back, but it didn't work very well. I ended up trying to stifle my laugh.

"Shush-"

"Nikolai," I muttered to him. "You were ashamed of the name Nikolai, so you landed on Sturmhond?

"I wasn't ashamed of my name."

"Then why change it?"

"Why did you lie about why you wanted on this ship?" he countered.

I froze. My smile dropped and I stared at him. I didn't want to talk about this. I didn't even want to think about it anymore. But here I was, left with no choice. I either told him the truth or tried to fight him. I would never win a fight against his crew.

"(Y/n)-"

"Why do you want to know about it," I asked. "Why does it matter?"

"I need to know about any risk to my crew."

I closed my eyes.

"I need to know what risk you're facing, so I can ensure that I- we can do the most to protect you."

I looked at him again and saw nothing but concern gracing his features. Eyebrows drawn up in the middle, a frown forming on his lips, his eyes dancing around my face for the answers that I wasn't saying out loud.

"It's... There was a guy," I managed to mutter out. "We were meant to be together forever. My parents were convinced of the fact. But he didn't want me. He wanted to be wanted. Needed. I didn't always make him feel that way. And I hated how I felt when I did."

"Did he hurt you-"

"Saints, no," I shook my head. "He just enjoyed thinking that I was fighting for him. When I didn't seem to be, he deemed that I didn't love him. That I was just selfish. I was just being... drained. Running was the only way for me to get out without him trying to guilt me into staying."

"Do you think he'll look for you?"

"No," I replied. "I think he'll find someone new. I just couldn't face my family. They'd just tell me to go back."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I thought that you would turn me away," I shrugged. "That my situation wouldn't be serious enough for you."

I felt a hand reach out and touch mine.

"You deserve more," he said quietly. "So much more."

"I know... that's why I had to leave."

There was this moment.

This moment where the two of us locked eyes. Silence on both sides. I was suddenly hit with every moment where I had looked at him and felt that odd peace. That peace that hadn't quite made sense at the time. But now, nothing made more sense to me.

"(Y/n)-"

I cut Nikolai off by leaning over to press my lips to his. His hands landed on each side of me as he slowly kissed me back.

I felt the flames crawling along my skin. Slow enough for me to know it was there. Careful enough to warm my skin without scorching me. It merely crawled through my blood and laid in my veins like a comfortable blanket on a freezing day. I could feel how warm I had gotten during the kiss. And I didn't mind the feeling at all.

It was everything that I had ever craved. I had lost faith in ever finding this. All I needed now was for Nikolai to feel the same way that I did.

I pulled away first, grinning at him. "Was that okay?"

I watched the smile slowly stretch across his face before he spoke, "Yeah. It was... far more than okay."

I slowly nodded.

He slowly stepped back, reaching out a hand to help me up and lead me down the steps. "I think it's time for both of us to get some much-needed rest, don't you?"

"I couldn't agree more," I replied.

He leaned in and kissed me again. It was shorter this time, but that didn't stop him from offering me another smile.

This was a feeling that I could easily get used to.

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

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#nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction

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turtle-steverogers · 1 year

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Okay so I've have this idea ever since I watched Endgame and I can't figure out how to make it work pothole wise but I have to share with you.

So you know the part where Tony and Steve go back in time to the 1970s? Ever since I watched that I was like "What if something goes wrong and they accidentally end up in Steve's childhood instead??" I know you like A+ parenting from Joseph Rogers and I can't stop thinking about Steve and Tony's tumbling on top of a scene between little Steve and angry Joe Rogers.

Just imagine, first they're simply standing in front of like, a run-down building and they're both kind of confused of why they're there but then they see this little tiny kid playing with marbles or something next to the street. And Tony is busy processing the fact that they're in the wrong year and that the kid looks like Steve and that he looks so small and thin.

So he doesn't realize that Steve tenses up when they hear a shout from the building. And they look up to see a burly man come out looking mad and maybe a little bit drunk and little Steve scrambled to pick up his marbles but Joe grab him first and is yelling at him with his fingers in a vice grip around his arm.

And Tony looks at Steve and Steve is pale as a sheet and doing that thing where you revert back to how you were in that time because you haven't processed any of the feelings you had then, and Tony figures out what's going on in a horrifying abrupt flash of realization.

(And then maybe Tony steps into confront the dad, despite knowing it's going to influence the timeline. I don't know about that though because it will just cause more problems for little Steve once they leave so maybe he tries and then big Steve is like no don't! And then they have to talk about it.)

Like I said I can't figure out how to write this scene because it doesn't make any sense for both of them to somehow land in the 1920s and also how on Earth are they going to get to the '70s if they run out of Pym particles etc but I don't care because I want to see it so bad.

Oh god, logistics be damned, because i’m just picturing the scene

“Ah, shit--”

“What the hell?”

It happens so fast that Steve loses his footing, crashing backwards and nearly bringing both him and Tony down as he’s yanked bodily into an alleyway. He stumbles, straightens, blinking hard against the blood rushing from his head before Tony’s grip on his arm tightens hard enough that Steve winces.

“We’re in the wrong place,” Tony says.

“What?” Steve is certain he must have heard him wrong. He must have, because the city is loud around them and cars are whirring by in what has to be afternoon traffic, children yelling down the street, some kid hawking papers and kicking up a flock of pigeons as he shouts, “Paper! Getcha paper! Family dies in horrific car accident, went straight offa the Bridge! Two cents!”

And it’s a lie. Steve knows it’s a lie, because he used to lie to sell papers for the entire two years he hawked them back in ‘25, because his dad was blowing all their money on whiskey and gin and they needed to eat.

“Oh god.” He turns, head on a slow swivel, looking around.

He knows this alleyway. He knows this street, the buildings, tall and laden with clotheslines, running from fire escape to fire escape like veins bleeding life into the city.

They’re in the wrong place. They’re in the wrong time.

He looks at Tony, who looks just as stricken as he looks back.

“We messed up,” Tony says. “Big time. Except we totally didn’t mess up, because I am positively certain that we put in the right date and time and this isn’t New Jersey, this definitely isn’t New Jersey.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve agrees, and he looks at the street. Dares to look, because he knows if he angles himself just right, he’ll see his old building. The one he lived in with his ma and dad, then just his ma, then eventually Bucky and--

He squeezes his eyes shut. He needs to think. About the mission, about the Pym Particles that were evidently wasted when someone or something sent them to the wrong place and time. Not about the familiar smell of the city street. Dust and motor oil and the faint scent of boiled corn. Not about ghosts that are drifting around him. Not about the fact that if he cranes his neck just so…

“We need to-- I don’t know what we need to do, but we need to do something. Fuck, what year is it even? We’re-- where are we? I don’t even know where we--”

“Brooklyn,” Steve says, opening his eyes. He can’t quite breathe, the reality of the situation settling in. Tugging at his ribcage. He’s going to vomit, he thinks. Maybe. “I don’t know when, but we’re in Brooklyn. Sometime around my time.”

“Okay, so this is definitely targeted, because that is way too specific to be a random mistaken coincidence,” Tony rambles, tapping frantically on his Time-Space GPS.

It’s no use. Steve knows it’s no use, because they’re out of Pym Particles. Collectively. And there’s no way of letting the others know about their predicament.

They’re stuck. They’re well and truly stuck.

Steve should feel more panicked, he knows that, but he’s stuck, incapable of moving. Of feeling anything other than abject horror as he finally gives into the urge to shift his gaze, lean slightly to the side, and look around toward his old building.

Kneeling on the front steps is a little boy, knobbly knees folded on the ground as he leans over, rolling some marbles around on the ground with great focus. His blond hair is dirty, falling in front of his eyes, which he reaches up to push out of the way, and Steve recognizes his clothes-- the brown, wool shorts he liked to wear and a ratty gray button up pulled out of the waistband. He’s barefoot, because it’s warm out, and it never mattered if he was wearing shoes or not when it was warm out. In fact, it made his leg braces easier to wear, which are fastened around his legs at an uncomfortable angle.

“1924,” he says.

Tony stops his rambling, and Steve realizes he's been talking to him.

“What?”

“It’s 1924.”

Tony frowns, looking at him. “How do you know?” He follows Steve’s gaze, then freezes next to him. “Oh my god, that’s not-- is that--”

“Yeah,” Steve says, feeling like he might pass out as he watches his little self shift around, tugging at the straps of his leg braces, trying to stop them from digging into his calves so hard. His fingers flex at his side, and he can almost still feel the dull ache in his knees. “That’s me. Fuck. Oh my god.”

And he remembers this. Remembers the way the marbles felt in his hand, remembers being sad because Bucky had been out of town with his family that week, so he had no one to play with. Remembers what’s about to happen next--

“Fuck, there you are, boy!”

Steve can just make out the words over the throng of the city, knows people are looking, but it’s not out of the ordinary for the time, so no one is stopping. No one in the city ever stops. Not for business that isn’t theirs.

“Oh my god,” Tony says next to him, and Steve’s eyes are glued on the scene as a man comes barreling out of the building, burly and tall and looming, going straight for the little boy on the steps. The stuff of Steve’s nightmares, all wild eyed and sweaty. He’d been real mean that week. Work had laid him off when he failed to show up for the millionth time, too drunk to know up from down, and Steve and his marbles had paid the price. “Is that-- who’s that?”

Steve swallows, tastes biles, makes his throat work.

“My dad.”

There’s a pause. They’re both still watching as his dad yanks on his little self’s arm. The marbles slip out of his grip. He starts crying as a few tumble down the drain, and he tries to yank himself away, tries to go after them, but he’s too little.

“I thought he died in the war.”

Steve sways. He doesn’t know how he’s still standing. All the blood has rushed away from his head, pooling in his stomach, making it churn. He hasn’t thought about his dad in years. Hasn’t let himself.

“Yeah,” he says. “He might as well have.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

His dad is dragging him up the steps, slapping him hard across the face when he starts to wail.

“That fucker,” Tony spits next to him, taking a few steps forward, and he sounds angrier than Steve has heard in a while. It startles him, and he reaches out, grabs Tony’s bicep.

“Tony, wait-- what are you--”

“Shit, I can’t just let him--”

They tussle for a moment as Steve manages to drag Tony back. He can’t let him go out there, can’t let him mess up the timeline.

“You’re gonna fuck this up worse for us if you go out there,” Steve says, backing them both further into the alleyway.

He doesn’t need to look to know he’s gone deadweight, crying on his way up the steps, his dad wrestling with him to stand up, quit crying, quit being a goddamn sissy.

Tony’s expression is stricken, eyes wide and tight and Steve kicks himself, remembering that Howard had not been kind either. At least from what he’s gathered. He has never considered him and Tony to be much the same in any sense, but maybe they share more pain than he thought.

“Besides, if you go out there and try to help, he’s only going to-- he’s gonna--” Steve stops talking, mouth too dry.

He remembers the time George Barnes had tried to intervene after Bucky had told him that Steve’s dad hit him sometimes. The beating he’d gotten that night for messing with his dad’s reputation had been debilitating. He’d had to miss school for two days, and Bucky had cried when he saw him next, apologizing for getting him hurt.

Steve had hugged him, and they’d been okay. But no one had ever tried to intervene again.

Tony studies his face, and Steve can’t look him in the eye. Abruptly, he lets go of Tony’s arm, lungs compressing. He never wanted anyone to know, and it feels like his entire soul is on display, all old pains and exposed skin. Hand-shaped bruises and cigarette burns on the ghost of himself.

He’s told himself it’s fine. War had been worse, watching his home get ravaged by aliens had been worse. But he’s learning that there is no worse. No quantifying pain. Not when it raised him.

“Okay,” Tony says, his tone quiet. Understanding. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Steve shifts, looks down at the ground.

“It’s fine,” he says, then clears his throat. He needs to focus. They need to focus. “We need to figure out how to get the fuck out of here.”

Tony shakes himself, even though he still looks deeply disturbed.

“Right,” he says, looking down at the Time-Space GPS. “Okay, right, okay.”

Steve turns, casting one last glance to the stoop of the rundown building. It’s empty now, and he closes his eyes, letting the tears well. He’s scared, he realizes. As scared as he was in that moment, confused why his dad hates him and sad that he lost his marbles. He wants to cry for that little boy. He wants to pull him into a hug and tell him that he’s not dirty or bad. That the pain will wane, then wax again.

That he will survive, and keep going, just like he always does.

They find the glitch in the system, the diversion sent from some future version of evil to throw them off the scent of the Pym Particles. It’s easy enough to maneuver their way through Camp Lehigh and get more, once they make it there, then the world ends again and Steve watches his friends nearly die and his shield breaks.

It’s hell. Concentrated, fast moving hell.

And then the world is still again.

He’s tired, he thinks as he sits on Tony’s dock. The rest of the team are inside, celebrating another win. Celebrating him passing a new shield off to Sam-- one Tony had graciously crafted him once they made it back home.

He’d slipped away some time after toasts were being made, waving Bucky away when he tried to follow. He needs to be alone, just for a bit. He needs to breathe, to watch the water ripple beneath his feet and listen to dragonflies buzz over the water.

It isn’t often that he’s taken the time to slow down. To breathe, and appreciate the world as it is, whole and teeming with life. He thinks maybe now that he’s retired, he ought to do that more.

Maybe he’ll take up hiking. Or something. Maybe Bucky will join him, always being one for adventure himself. Rolling up his jeans to wade out into the waters of Coney Island, just so he can feel the sand between his toes, Becca on his back, kicking the water and splashing Steve, who’d been following close behind.

“Spangles, I thought I’d find you out here, looking all morose and contemplative.”

Steve looks over to see Tony approaching him, limping, his arm still in a sling. It had been a near catastrophic feat, using his own gauntlet to snap Thanos out of existence, but he’d done it and made it out alive.

“Yup, that’s me, morose and contemplative Steve.” He shifts over, letting Tony sit.

It feels final in a way. Like they’re finally past whatever barrier kept them at odds for so many years. It seems that this time, the world ending had finally cemented their trust in each other.

“Saw you slip away from the party,” Tony says. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just needed some quiet,” Steve says. They’re sitting close enough that Steve can hear Tony’s heartbeat with his enhanced hearing. It’s a comfort. “How’s your arm?”

“Oh, you know, a little achy, a little crisp. I still haven’t been able to truly wash it, aside from sponge baths, so it’s definitely a little ripe, too, but it’s getting there.”

Steve snorts, long since used to Tony’s chronic oversharing.

“Well, I’m glad it doesn’t hurt too bad?”

“Not too bad, no,” Tony says. It’s quiet for a moment, and they watch a gray heron land on a log. Steve takes a mental picture of it to draw later. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Was your dad like that a lot?”

Steve sighs. He’s been wondering when this would come up. They didn’t talk about it after the fact-- there hadn’t been any time-- but the space between them has felt thick with the unsaid, even with everything going on.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.” He hears the shake in Tony’s voice, and looks at him. “How old were you when we were there?”

“Six,” Steve says. “It was three days before my birthday.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony says. “Did anyone know?”

“Bucky did, but no one else. He died when I was nine, and I told everyone after that that he’d died in the war. It messed him up good.”

“Damn,” Tony says. “Look, I know we’ve had our moments. Like, really tough moments, but I care about you, yeah? I give a damn, even if I’m still learning the correct ways to show that.” He shakes his head, licks his lips. Steve watches him, holding his breath. “Just… I’m here for you, okay? I know what it’s like having a shitty dad, and mine never-- never hurt me like that, but he messed me up plenty good in other ways. So if you ever, I don’t know, want to talk about it, or just need someone who you don’t have to explain yourself to, I’m here.”

It’s the most vulnerable they’ve voluntarily been around each other, and Steve reaches out, placing his hand over Tony’s on the pier. The one that isn’t injured. His skin is warm. They’re both here, broken parts of a whole. With an exhale, Steve feels like they’ve finished a chapter, ready to start a new one, on the same page.

“Thank you, Tony. I’m here, too.”

#the steve tony make-up ficlet i thought id never write #ugh anything w joseph just has the potential to be so *clenches fist* this idea stuck w me so long dude #steve rogers #tony stark #mikey answers #mutuals <333 #mikey screams into the void #avengers fic #tw child abuse #tw abuse

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surrogate-fawn · 3 months

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That sounds like SUCH a cute pregnancy dream you had! Did you tell Buck about it?

No. I still don't wanna scare him. But literally about an hour ago he was telling me how even though he and his roommate have a legal agreement to move out within two years, we probably won't be able to do that because we don't make enough money.

I know he doesn't take having kids nearly as seriously as I do and the reality that it may take us so long to get settled that my fertility may be at risk has me sitting here right now trying not to cry.

He's talked about our kids, and how we both think our first will be a boy (he's said before we might even have two boys). But I wanna have kids while I'm still young enough to not be at risk and this massive, massive financial problem feels like a knife pointed at my back. Like one wrong move and my dreams are over.

#mun in the flesh (irl stuff)

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zillyeh · 6 months

Text

From the Cracks

companion piece to this one

Characters: Zipper Anthem, Castel Baclef

The near open walls of the Serpent’s Hands breezy cathedral let in every sound from the Old North. The repairs that had been done over the sweeps were never structurally sound enough to keep out the elements. It seemed like this time the ON was really putting in some effort, though. They had the funds and manpower for it now. Crumbled walls had real supports jutting out from the top, reaching past where there once may have been stained glass windows to touch the well abused roof.

At the base of the construction, looking far too long and gangly on the floor, squatted a purpleblood. The old drone-brick that still stood strong behind the pulpit interested him, much to the chagrin of the Undertaker.

She thought she was doing enough for him- keeping his uppity little south city bakery from getting Smiles branded bricks through his window- but no. His little bestie twisted her arm with another bribe to let him up here. In her church.

If money weren't such a problem she never would have entertained this.

"Have you found what you're looking for yet or what?" Undertaker Anthem demanded, her voice rough and annoyed through her mask. Castel flinched at the sound of her voice, but let out a gentle hum in response.

"I may be getting close," he said, leafing through his old, battered book. "It is supposed to be low enough for the damage not to have reached…" The lilt of an Enfaris accent kissed the edges of his words, making Zippie grimace more. Clowns. He lacked the paint, but that didn’t matter. It couldn't. She couldn't afford to not be on edge.

"You could always help," he continued, "It might be-"

"No. I'm staying parked right here." For all her posturing and glares, her voice nearly gave way to the fear underlining her behavior.

"Relax your shoulders, then."

"Excuse me?"

"I feel your tension from here," he said with a flippant wave of his hand. "Even if I did bite, my teeth are rather flat, no?"

When she didn't respond, he turned. He flinched once more, struck by one of the daggers she was glaring into his head. He huffed, making some show of not looking away, pretending she wasn't scary. She was. Even seeing past the hardness in her silvery eyes- to her exhaustion- didn't change that.

Castel tilted his head curiously, fixated on her for a moment, before shaking his head back to the bricks.

“It’s a spiral of names,” he started as if she’d asked. “Small, barely meant to be noticeable. Etched with an errant piece of metal off of one of my ancestors’ companions’ hands.”

Ancestors. The ones that truly existed were nothing but trouble. Bessba’s? Jackass. This guy’s? Forcing him into her church to look for more clues about his silly little existence. Those who could trace their lines like that- who knew that someone specific was responsible for them- were just so…

Annoying.

He traced his long, skinny fingers along the brick, continuing to talk to her (or himself, it was hard to tell) as he scooted further down the wall.

“It's supposed to be at about sitting height, thank goodness. It would be helpful if these walls weren't so dusty, but who am I to- oh!”

Castel's sudden noise and spring to action made Zippie jump. The purple grabbed a brush from his pocket, enthusiastically sweeping at a cracked brick near the middle of the wall. Zippie clenched her teeth, watching him with something beginning to approach curiosity. Some dusty graffiti was that exciting?

“Find what you're looking for, finally?” Zippie asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Shush- I mean yes, sorry, I just don't want the integrity of the brick to be compromised. Oh look at that, that must be all of them…” It sounded like he found what he was looking for. As much as she didn't want to turn her back to him, she had other things to do. He'd be done soon enough. Zippie turned back to her pulpit as he talked to himself, sketching in his notebook.

“Baclef of course, Payark, Sclera, Humera… Goz…. jam or is that silent? H sound maybe, Aarika-”

Castel’s mumbling suddenly felt like a brick to the back of the head. For a moment she thought she misheard him, but the goosebumps on her arms were too solid for that to be the case.

“What did you just say?” she asked lowly, dangerously. She did not turn to face him.

“...Aarika? Sorry, I know I shouldn't speak that name too loud, but-”

“Before that.”

“Oh! Goz-Gozjam?” The sitting purple adjusted his glasses on his long broad nose. “Am I pronouncing that incorrectly?”

“No, you're not,” Zippie said before she could stop herself.

“Okay!” he said cheerily. He then paused and looked to the Undertaker, who'd turned to face him. The purple's fear of her had been overridden with curiosity. He looked at her, really looked at her and said:

“Your eyes… your pupils are teardrop shaped.” Given his tone, that meant something to him. Zippie hissed lowly behind her mask, straightening her posture further. He flipped through one of the weathered old journals he brought with him, but didn't look like he was reading it as he continued.

“‘It's a funny thing, seeing Gozjam with her eyes uncovered. Rare a sight as it is. So many of us have heavy eyes, it's the nature of our species, but the droop of her lids and the shape of her pupils truly ice the cake of her melancholy. Were she anyone else, I'd only call them droplets- but with her? To refer to them as anything but tear drops would do a poetic disservice to her character.’”

“Stop it,” Zippie ordered as he took in another breath to speak. He stubbornly opened his mouth again.

“‘It's a shame she has to hide them, and the unfortunate rest of her face. She is more lovely than-”

“I said enough,” she snarled this time. She felt something dangerous under her skin. Electric. Defensive. “Are you done over there? Did you get what you wanted? I didn't say you could be here all night.” He paid her bristling no mind, fully facing her on his knees. Examining her from his distance away. Seeing her.

“You don’t even know, do you?” There was something soft to his voice that made her want to punch him. “Anthem, my intention is not to distress you, but-”

“You’re failing, Baclef. I think it’s time for you to go.” It didn’t sound like she’d take arguing well. He sighed, glanced back at the wall, and began to stand. In that same instance, something dawned on her that turned her blood to ice- and her behavior violent. She tugged him up by the collar while he was still knelt down. Her eyes were wide now, showing off the entirety of those teardrops.

“What else does it say about her in those books of yours?” she asked with a panic that didn’t suit her. The rasp in her voice was more prevalent when she raised her voice like that, making her all the more terrifying. Castel stammered. He was unused to being roughhoused, even more so at this angle.

“N-nothing, they were friends that’s-”

“Physically,” she growled, shaking him again. He let out an honest-to-Messiahs eep.

“He didn’t- tall? Skinny, robot arms-” Another shake interrupted him. He frantically searched his memory for the correct answer. When he looked her in her eyes, damaged red sclera and silvery pupils above a tight leather mask, it clicked.

“Oh, oh- nothing, nothing. I swear on my life he never described her past shape. It was a secret that he kept until they destroyed this place. I always thought it was rather obvious, since- ah!”

Zipper shoved him back, looking like a snake about to strike. Castel dusted himself off, scrambling back towards the wall as she approached. Unbidden sparks lit up the rivets at the back of her neck, letting off small, ribbon-like bursts of electricity.

“I could be wrong?” he offered, clearly wishing he was less motor mouthed. “I could be way off. It doesn’t matter. Even if I knew I wouldn’t- I couldn’t. For the obvious wrong it would be of course, but-”

“But?” she said through clearly clenched teeth behind that zipper. Her sparking wasn’t getting worse, but it wasn’t stopping.

“...Our ancestors were friends.”

That stopped her in her tracks. The Undertaker swayed on her boots, clenching and unclenching of her fists without taking her eyes off of the heap of giant purpleblood on the ground.

“Get the fuck out of my church,” she said, something almost airy about her tone this time. The shift startled him enough to grab his things in one swift motion.

“Yes ma’am. Sir. I’m- I’m sorry.” Castel scrambled to his feet, still making her wince when he was drawn to his full height. He nearly dropped his books in his haste to leave.

“I’ll have, um, our mutual contact compensate for the trouble,” he called back as he strode towards the doors. “I really am-” He stumbled a bit over a piece of rubble that hadn’t been moved yet, making more of a show of leaving than this already was.

Zippie stayed unmoving where he left her, staring at that corner of wall. The slam of the church doors woke her back up, and with a shake of her head she said:

“Annoying.”

#Zilly drabbles #Castel tag #Castel Baclef #Zippie tag #Zipper Anthem #i didnt edit this goodnight

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