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storiesfromafan · 27 days

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Hear me out bennyxreader where they meet on readers birthday and Benny offers her a ride as a bday gift and he says “I ain’t got much, but I can offer you freedom” Like AGGHHH I might take my own spin on this when I can stop cackling at the thought, but I NEED NEED NEED to read your take on this scenario ❤️❤️❤️ p.s. only take this on when you can. I don’t want to make you feel obligated to do it 🥺

A/N: Well I finally did it, I finally finished and revised/edited my take on your request. As I told you, I didn't do it as if they met on the readers birthday, but an established friendship of sorts haha. I hope you like @strayrockette :)

I'm not sure what I think about this, but I will stick with it lol. Pls dont come for me if it's not that good lol.

Warnings: I took inspo from Sixteen Candles haha.

Birthday Girl

A birthday is meant to be a celebration of one’s birth. To be celebrated by those nearest and dearest to you. And that had been what you had hoped for. Unfortunately, that was not what you got. The week leading up to your birthday was chaos. Your older sister had come home with her fiancé. His parents, and both sets of your Grandparent’s, had come into town just the day before, for a family meeting/engagement dinner. Which was arranged tonight, on your birthday. So, this special day for you was now to be shared with your sister.

But your special day, was not special. It wasn’t even acknowledged by any of your family. Oh, you think they were too busy fussing over your sister and the engagement family dinner? No, I mean that no one – not even your mother, whom gave birth to you – didn’t even realise it was your birthday! No one wished you a Happy Birthday when you came down to breakfast. There were no presents waiting for you. Nothing.

Throughout the day you even dropped hints. You questioned if you looked older. You talked about last year’s birthday. You even mentioned liking a particular cake for your birthday. And absolutely nothing! They all forgot your birthday.

Once it sunk in, you spent the day on autopilot. Mixture of anger, annoyance and hurt. But you didn’t expect something like this to happen. Maybe more your birthday being toned down. Or something small during the day, as not to take away from your sisters engagement dinner, and do something bigger the next day. Any of that would have been fine with you. But nope. Not happening.

Then to add salt into your wound, your Grandmothers ganged up on you. They spent moments of the day giving back handed compliments. Such as you have such a lovely physique (Y/N), but you would look better in a dress! Show off that waist! Or you have such a beautiful face, but with some makeup it would enhance it. They couldn’t accept you were a woman who chose slacks over skirts, boots over heels. Or that you enjoyed getting your hands dirty working on cars and bikes. That last bit of information almost gave the women heart attacks.

You were a tomboy. Always have been. And your dad never minded, one less boy crazed daughter to raise. Rather he got to do male stuff with you, and you learnt some helpful and useful information from him. You were the apple of his eye, while your sister was your mother’s. And you were fine with it.

But back to the story at hand; your twenty-fourth birthday being forgotten. When it came to get ready to go to dinner, you were cornered by all the women currently in your house to for-go slacks, in favour of a dress. Reluctantly you gave in, you sister and mother being the ones to pick out a baby blue swing dress, that had a round neckline which showed a bit of collar bone. Your mother being the one to tie the bow at the back, saying how lovely you looked in the dress. Thankfully your sister did your makeup, just simple; light powder, mascara and a bit of lipstick. Half your hair was swept up, and held with a pearl clip. Finally, you were given a pair of flats by your sister for the night.

Now you looked like every women in that house, picture perfect feminine species. You didn’t hate how you looked, you thought you looked beautiful. But you hated how you kind of wanted this. But maybe your own version? Mixing feminine and masculine elements to better fit you.

Dinner went well. You got complicated by everyone that saw you, saying how much you and your sister looked alike now. Like this was a permanent fixture. And it soured your mood. Which was already lack lustre due to everyone forgetting your birthday. By the time dessert and coffee came around, you were done. Done with the jabs at your tomboy look, saying how you looked much better tonight. Done with how everyone fussed over your sister and her fiancé. And you were done with this day. You were ready for it to be tomorrow, an every other day.

When you all finally left the restaurant, all intending to go back to your house for a night cap, you were left to get a lift back with one set of Grandparents. So, as soon as you left the carpark you tried to drop hints on what today was. And just like your parents, they didn’t realise.

“Can you drop me off here?” You said with a sigh. “I don’t feel like goin’ home right away”.

Your Grandmother looked at you with annoyance. “But it’s your sisters engagement!”

Once again you sighed. “Oh I know. I’ve been reminded over and over all day, and tonight!” You’d just stopped at a red light, taking advantage of this and getting out, but not before getting the last word in. “It’s not like it’s someone else’s special day, or anythin’!”

You slammed the car door before storming away from them. Once there was a few blocks distance, you slowed down. Letting your anger fizzle out, replaced with sadness yet again. Grandparents aren’t meant to forget their Grandchildren’s birthday. Sad, hurt and feeling low, you made it to the bar.

There were rows of bikes, loud voices and music coming from the building. That was when you realised how you looked, like a doll. Groaning you knew the Vandal men were about to point out how girly you looked, and make you the butt of many jokes. Was it worth it? Or would walking home, then dealing with the drama there, be better? Knowing that you’d get a lecture for not only getting out of a car at red light, but being disrespectful too.

Squaring your shoulders and taking a deep breath you entered the bar. It was louder on the inside, voices booming in laughter all over the room. You started to make your way past bodies, looking for anyone to sit with. Then you spotted Kathy and a few other women. With a relieved sigh, you made you way over there.

But suddenly, a set of hands grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back with a laugh. “Hey, you lookin' for a man?”

You turned and saw it was Corky. He looked tipsy, and from the way he swayed a little, it was obvious. Then his face dropped in confusion. He even leaned in a bit. Then it hit him.

“(Y/N)?!” He asked in shock.

You stood tall, projecting your usual confident and laid back nature. “Yeah?”

Then Corky slowly began to laugh, an amused look upon his face. “What are you wearin’!?”

Those that were around heard him loud and clear, their eyes turning to you both. Wahoo came staggering up next, placing an arm over Corky to prop himself up. When he turned to you, it was the same thing as with Corky, only he was louder and that drew even more attention to you.

Both males laughed at you. Asking if you lost a bet. You felt your face heat up at their words and all the attention. Thankfully Johnny came over, wanting to check out the commotion. Seeing you Johnny was surprised, but he was kinder then those before you, or the others that had joined in on their laughter.

“Alright, alright” said Johnny getting the men’s attention, and them to settle down. “Is this any way to treat a woman?”

That made the men laugh once again.

Johnny sighed before shouting. “Enough! Give it a rest. Ya don’t act like this with any other women. So, knock it off!”

The laughter died down yet again, and for good. You looked around at all the men, that was when you noticed the one person you had hoped to not witness this exchange: Benny. He stood not far from the pool table, his usual place to be. He and Cal shared a look, and a few words, before looking back to you. If you weren’t embarrassed before, you were now, since the man you’ve been crazy about since you started working at the bar, had seen everything.

Your first shift at the bar, thankfully started in the afternoon, before it got too busy. You had been given a run down on how to run the bar, where everything was and advised to not show any fear to the men. With that you were left to tend the bar, while the other employee sorted out the supplies in the back. You had just been serving beers, which was easy. You had just given Cal his beer when you herd the most heart stopping gravelly voice.

“Beer please”.

You grabbed the requested drink, popping the lid before placing on the bar before the man. When you lifted your eyes, they met the most beautiful stormy blue eyes. Those eyes held you in place, your brain forgetting to function. Then you noticed his gorgeous face; his jawline that was covered in stubble, full lips. Let’s not forget the messy blonde locks on his head either. Over all a stunning man.

He took a swig of the beer before nodding, “thanks”.

And he was off back to the pool table. Clinking his bottle with Cal – by the jukebox – in passing. You watched Benny and another Vandal play a game of pool, in between serving customers. You admired his arms every time he took a shot. Or how he would focus on the ball he was aiming at. You were completely smitten with him.

Over time you got to know Cal, after he mentioned building bikes. From there you were able to see his work, and eventually work on them too. Cal was nice, like an older brother to you. And being that you both were close, he’d bring you into conversations when you were walking around cleaning tables, collecting bottles and glasses. That was how you got to talk to Benny.

Benny wasn’t one to talk much. But he’d tell stories, and you’d listen to every word, hanging on for dear life. What surprised you was when he would listen when you talk about working on bikes with Cal. The way he would look at you as he listened, it made it hard to keep your thoughts in check and your tongue moving.

There were a few times both Cal and Benny stood up for you. A few other Vandals laughed and made jokes when you’d been talking about a particular bike that Cal had you help him with. Their comments were sexist and crude. Both men did not take kindly to it, and helped their club mates change their tunes. Fists were thrown, and black eyes on faces. That was the day you knew Benny was a friend. Even if just that hurt your heart, because from that moment you’d fallen for him.

“Now then” Johnny said, bringing you back to him. “Don’t ya all have somethin’ to say?”

You had thought it was an apology. How wrong and surprised you were.

It was like every Vandal and Vandal adjacent was watching you and cheered: “Happy Birthday!”

You stood there shocked. Of all the people to wish you a happy birthday, you didn’t think a bar full of bikies would be them. You found it hard to speak, feeling overwhelmed. But a warm, happy smile broke out on your face, and then you laughed.

“Thank you!” You said sincerely.

Johnny smiled, as he patted you on the back before walking off. Slowly the men around you returned to what they were doing. You looked to Cal and Benny, who smiled and raised their beers at you, before going back to the pool table. Taking a deep breath, you quickly moved over to Kathy and the women.

“What an entrance” she commented. “And who would of thought these animals could be nice, wishin’ ya a happy birthday”.

“Yeah, I’m surprised” you said shaking your head.

“Johnny heard it was ya birthday, and told all the men to be nice and say it if ya come in” replied Betty. “But I didn’t expect that”. She laughed.

You figured Johnny did it to defuse the situation, or the joke of you being all dolled up. You could see men around the bar looking at you, whispering to each other and then laughing. You knew they were making jokes. None of them had ever seen you is anything but t-shirts, slacks, boots and dirt, and grease.

Thankfully the women around you changed the topic, and you all talked about anything and everything. It was nice. Forgetting, even for a little while, what had happened leading up to this moment. You felt a little more relaxed, and when Cal brought you a beer, that helped too. Actually you got a few beers from various Vandals, with another happy birthday.

“So, tell us about ya birthday” Betty said, putting her pop bottle on the table. “Did you get spoilt” she giggled.

You felt like a bucket of water had been thrown over you, washing away the little joy you had managed to feel. Only now to be reminded of what your day was like. You stiffly took a swig from your beer bottle, eyes down cast and face blank. All the women shared a concerned look.

“Ya alright?” Asked Kathy, placing a hand over yours when it came to rest on the table.

You shrugged. “It wasn't the best...”

“Wanna to talk about it?” She asked you softly.

And that began the retelling of your day. Starting from when you got up to jumping out of your Grandparents car. You expressed how hurt you had been for being forgotten, as well as pushed to the side for your sister. How the women of your family had an issue with your tomboy attire. And how they had dressed you, like some child’s doll.

“I just...I can't believe today of all days they forgot its my damn birthday!” You said, voice thick with sadness and hurt. “I would have settled for a happy birthday from any of them...but no...”

The lady’s around you all shared a look. Kathy leant over and gave you a one armed hug, telling you how sorry she was you felt like this and it wasn’t right they forgot. You felt the tears rising but willed them back. Throat was tight and dry, so you downed the last of your beer.

“I need a moment to freshen up” you muttered, moving to stand.

You’d just gotten up and straightened out your dress, when Fat Jack – or Big Jack – and another Vandal came walking past. If you hadn’t stood up they would have past by no problem, but instead Jack bumped into you. Which made his buddy bump into him.

Jack growled in annoyance before setting his eyes on you. “Watch it Princess” he sneered. His buddy laughing.

“Ah, s-sorry” you stuttered, which never happened before. But with everything you’re feeling you couldn’t stop yourself.

He huffed. “Whatever Princess. Do us a favour and get ya girly mind out of the clouds. But I’ll say, this is a much better look for ya. More acceptable”. They both roared with laughter.

“Oh shut it” retorted Kathy. “And no need to be an ass”.

That made them laugh harder, and you crack more. Mixed with hurt and anger, you grabbed your bag before taking off through the bar and out the main doors. You heard Kathy calling your name but didn’t care. You were done. That was the last straw. You were a walking joke. Not to mention easily forgotten. Great birthday you had.

Crossing the road you felt a few tears escaped as you tried to keep yourself in check. Which was proving harder to do. You heard the bar doors open but didn’t pay them mind. Not until you heard your name being called. That was when you snapped, having enough of it all.

“What!?” You cried as you spun around with a glare aimed for whoever was behind you.

The person crossing the road to you was none other than Benny. Which for a moment confused you, before disappearing. Why was it him who had to come after you? And see you like this, a mess?.

“Ya alright? I heard Kathy callin' after you but ya didn’t stop” he said softly, concern written on his face. “I saw Jack and his buddy by your table laughin'”.

You laughed. “I’m fine, just dandy. And don’t get me started on that sack of shit”.

“What did he say or do? Tell me” Benny got serious, ready to go to bat for you.

You sighed in frustration. Frustration over everything, but currently Benny being here. Like he cared, like he cared for you. You back up laughing slightly like a lunatic.

“What do ya care? You’ve never cared before” you said in frustration.

“I care. I always care” Benny replied, face softening.

Once more you laughed. “Alright, ya want to know. He called me princess, and said this” – you gestured to your dress – “is a much better look for me. More acceptable. Then don’t get me started on my f-family”. You choked by the end, seething with anger but also hurting too.

Benny straightened, fists clenched. But it softened at the mention of your family. “What happened with them?”

You sighed, releasing most of your anger and allowing the sadness to seep back in. Remembering how they made you feel. “They forgot my birthday...no happy birthday, no present, n-no n-nothing...”

Half way through your explanation you began to cry, it all finally crashing down on you. You placed a hand over your mouth as you cried, holding in the noises that threaten to come out. You lent forward, tilting your head down.

“(Y/N)...” Benny said gently, trying to get your attention.

You looked up at him with your crying eyes. “I’m s-sorry...I must l-look a mess” you stated trying to pull yourself together, while whipping away your tears.

But it only made you cry more. That was when the unexpected happened: Benny pulled you into his chest. He wrapped an arm around your back, while his other hand cradled your head to his chest. For the next however long Benny held you, you cried into his chest. Hands gripping his t-shirt as you let it out. He rubbed your back, making soothing sounds. Had someone told you the day before you’d be spending your birthday crying on Benny, you’d have laughed at how unlikely it would be the happen. But here you were.

You pulled back from Benny, avoiding his face and his baby blues. “S-sorry...” you muttered, stepping back till Benny’s hands were resting on your shoulders.

“Don’t be. I get it. It’s been a shit day” he said with sympathy. “I’m sorry they forgot ya birthday”.

“Thanks...” you replied softly. “I guess I’m glad my Vandal family didn’t forget” you chuckled.

“Yeah, I told Johnny the other day it was ya birthday. He made sure to let the men know”.

You looked at Benny’s face with surprise. “You told Johnny?”

He nodded, moving to stick his hands in his jacket pockets. “Yeah, I heard ya mention it the other day...”

You looked at the man before you with astonishment. “Thank you, really”.

“It’s nothin'. Just a bunch of people wishin' ya a happy birthday” he chuckled. “I didn’t get ya a present” – and idea hit him – “I ain’t got much, but I can offer you freedom”.

Shooting Benny a confused look, he gestured his head towards his bike. He was offering to take you anywhere you wanted to go, to get away from the bar, from this night. You smiled at him and nodded, not trusting your voice. Benny began to walk towards his bike, you following behind him. He got on first, kick starting it to life. The roar was music to your ears, and soothing for the soul. Benny held out a hand, which you reluctantly took, before swinging a leg over the bike.

At that moment the bar doors opened, and out came some Vandals, including Cal, Corky and Wahoo. Among them was Kathy, who looked worried until she saw you with Benny. She was relieved to see you were alright, looking better then when you left. They hooted and hollered as you sat behind Benny. You blushed at them watching you both.

“Better tuck your dress under ya” suggested Benny. “And when ya done, better wrap your arms around me and hold on, yeah?”

You did as instructed with your dress, putting your bag between you both as you leaned closer to him. Wrapping your arms around Benny’s waist, you felt your face heat up more. Once your hands were secure, Benny put up the kick stand before moving from the curb. You could see Kathy’s amused face. As well as hear Cal and Corky yelling, one of them saying about time. Yet you didn’t get what they meant.

“Meet on the express way!” Called Corky.

With that you both rode down the street. Benny took you around the streets. Letting you get a feel for riding on a his bike with him, also to give the others time to get on their bikes and make it to the expressway. You enjoyed the feel of the cool air on your face, and how it made your hair fly. And you enjoyed being close to Benny. A man who had made sure the Vandals knew it was your birthday. You smiled resting your cheek to his back.

As Corky said, coming to the express way it wasn’t long before the Vandals joined you both. It was a sight to see, all the bikes together. The passing light of street lamps illuminating them, letting anyone see for a brief moment their bikes. Benny said he’d give you freedom and he did. You softly laughed feeling content for the first time today. And it was thanks to him and your Vandal family.

Once you’d run the expressway, the Vandals headed back to the bar, while Benny kept going. He knew you needed a longer ride. So he rode around until it was three in the morning. That was when he pulled up out front of your house. Coming to a stop at the curb, Benny put down the kickstand before turning off the bike, leaving the street in an eerie silence. You sat for a few minutes, just letting it all sink in. Then Benny held out his hand, which you took and were grateful for the help off the bike.

You staggered but thankfully Benny was there to grab your arm. Once it was safe to let you go, he did. He then got off his bike himself, but lent back on it, watching you closely. You smiled at him, not brightly but enough to know you were in better spirits.

“Thanks for that. It’s just what I needed” you chuckled.

Benny smiled warmly at you. “Any time, ya just gotta ask”.

You nodded your head, smile widening at his words. “I’ll hold ya to it”.

Now it was Benny who nodded and chuckled.

You had been thinking while on the back of his bike, and wanted to ask him what was on your mind. But wasn’t sure how. As if sensing it, Benny asked you what’s on ya mind?

“I want to know...why did you remember my birthday, and tell Johny?”

Benny laughed softly, eyes shining with amusement. “It’s it obvious?” – You shook your head – “Because I like you, (Y/N)”.

That surprised you. Benny Cross liking you. You wanted to pinch yourself but reframed from it. If this was a dream you don’t want to be woken up. You blushed, feeling shy all of a sudden. Which Benny found adorable.

“Really?” You questioned softly. “But I’m a tomboy...this is just a one off...”

Benny smiled brightly, getting up from his bike and moving before you. His hand moving to lift your chin. “I’ve always liked ya. Slacks, dirt, grease and all”.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. He liked you for you, and not the princess you were right now. Smiling brightly you lent up and placed a kiss upon Benny’s cheek. You stepped back, about to turn around and head to your front door.

But Benny’s hand grabbed your arm stopping you. He cupped your cheek before leaning down and pressing his slightly chapped lips to yours. The kiss was chaste and sweet. But still had you melting. Benny pulled back, running his thumb down and along your jaw as he gave you a soft smile.

“Now that’s a way to show someone ya like them back” he said amused. Which made you blush.

This time you stepped back and Benny let you go. He watched you walk to your front door before unlocking it. Standing in the doorway, you looked to the man of your dreams and gave him a beaming smile. With a goodnight from you both, you closed and locked the front door before leaning against it. You waited for the roar of his bike and the sound of him riding off down the street before you moved from your spot.

For a day that had been the worst, it ended on the best possible outcome. And you couldn’t wait to see Benny again. Or go for a ride with him either. As if you were floating, you went to your room and went to bed. No doubt dreaming about your dreamy Vandal.

#benny cross x reader #benny cross x y/n #benny cross x you #the bikeriders x reader #austin butler x reader

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joeyalohadream · 2 months

Text

Little angsty, pining!Gale fic

Sat down to right something and wrote this instead. I don't usually write anything that's not at least somewhat fluffy, but it's the mood I'm in lately, I guess. LOL. Sorry, I'll be out of my funk soon, hopefully!

Takes place in England, vague-timeline, but before Regensberg.

AO3 Link

“I was so busy this afternoon, I didn’t even have time to eat a thing. This wine will go straight to my head.”

Her voice is musical, her laugh bubbles after it in a charming cadence. John’s eyes crinkle at the corners and the skin of his face stretches with the force of the smile he directs at the woman nestled under his arm in the booth.

Gale had started his night nestled under that same arm, in that same booth.

John laughs with her, a quiet, fond chuckle, and tells her that food is an important thing to make time for. He pinches her chin between two fingers and makes her head move to where he wants it to go, whispers something in her ear that makes her cheeks flame and then he turns away to laugh at something Curt says. Gale’s palms are sweating.

Two days ago, after interrogation, John had watched him, concern heavy in his blue eyes, as Gale had pushed the food around his plate. He’d kicked him under the table and nodded at the untouched food in front of him when he’d drawn Gale’s gaze and then he’d lectured him on taking better care of himself on the walk back to barracks. He’d also given him a chocolate bar that he’d pretended to pull from behind Gale’s ear. And smiled at him with fondness in his eyes as Gale savored the entire thing, refusing even a bite for himself.

It made Gale feel important in a way not much else did, having John’s focus, his care. It made him feel too much and crave more. It was dangerous.

John hadn’t gone out that night. He’d stayed in with Gale when he’d said he needed a quiet evening and they’d played gin rummy and talked about everything except for the war. His attention hadn’t drifted from Gale once until they’d finally called it a night and gone to bed.

Gale had laid awake wondering if he would star in John’s dreams and then fallen asleep feeling foolish.

Now, Gale watches this beautiful woman watch John and he recognizes the look in her eyes. She wants his attention back on her, doesn't want to share it with the other airmen. He wishes he couldn’t relate.

“You know, I have a friend, still sippin’ her drink with the girls, waiting for a handsome pilot of her own.” She says the words too loud, but her goal is achieved as John’s head turns to follow the sound of her voice and just like that, she has John’s attention while Gale has everyone else’s.

She eyes Gale with a smile, red lipstick making her teeth look bright white. Gale wants to tell her that John isn’t hers. That last week it was a different woman sitting in her place and tomorrow it will probably be another. He keeps his face impassive.

He tries not to squirm even as he chooses to stay silent instead of outright balking at the idea of entertaining a woman all night. The pretending is harder to stomach than solitude. The toothpick in his mouth needs to be replaced. It’s too saturated and frayed from the extent he’s been worrying at it.

As always, John comes to his rescue.

“Buck here has a beautiful girl back home.”

He doesn’t.

“He won’t so much as dance with anyone that's not her.”

He says it like he always does, like he finds it endearing. Gale hates the way he wishes his voice held some kind of bitter emotion. But as always, it is just warm affection in his tone when Gale is the subject that colors his words. It had started making Gale’s chest flutter somewhere around the time of their first promotion.

And he’d desired that tone and the man it belonged too long before they were assigned to the 100th. Ignoring it hadn’t worked, so accepting it and letting it consume a part of him that would never be shared became the solution.

It's why he broke it off with Marge before shipping out, though he didn’t tell John that. Didn’t tell anyone that. She still writes to him, still wants to be his friend, and it’s easy for the men to draw the conclusion that he is loyal to a sweetheart back home.

The woman under John’s arm rolls her eyes and then forgets about Gale immediately.

She’s laughing at all of his jokes.

Even when John pulls out his best material, Gale makes sure to give him nothing more than a smile. He’s been unable to help himself and has allowed soft huffs of quiet laughter on occasions that are becoming less rare. But Gale has never given him a full bellied laugh.

Maybe he should have. He knows it’s a goal of John’s, to make Gale smile, to make him laugh.

She’s touching his chest, the side of neck.

Gale allows himself to be touched by John. Not at first. Physical contact hadn’t been a part of his life in a positive way before he met John. It took a lot to get to the point where his best friend’s method of expressing friendship didn’t make him want to recoil, didn’t make him flinch. It took a lot, but it didn’t take a long time. By the third week in flight school, he was craving the soft touches and starting to hate himself a little for it.

He hardly ever initiates the contact himself. He’ll give John’s shoulder a squeeze. Let his hand linger in his grasp for too long when they greet each other.

Maybe things would be different if he let himself touch with the freedom in which John did. But affection was something he soaked up like a sponge when it was from John and wilted at when it was from others. And it was something he’d never learned how to give or take. Thinks maybe John could teach him but he knows he’ll never ask him to.

But things wouldn’t be different.

Because he watches John’s hand trail from her shoulder, down her back and to her hip, fingertips grazing the soft curve of her body on its way down. He watches John smile into her hair and whisper something into her ear again that makes her cheeks flush to match her lipstick and then nuzzle behind her ear. He looks away as John’s fingers trail the hem of her skirt.

And he imagines doing that to Marge or the girl across the room and all it does is turn his stomach.

So, nothing would be different if he were able to touch freely or laugh loudly. He’s different and John’s not, so he’ll settle it all back down in his chest and try to think about all of it less.

But he doesn’t have to torture himself by watching where this night will lead his best friend, so he slides out of the booth and heads to the bar to pay.

“What’s got you so glum, Buck?” Everett Blakely’s effusively kind voice sounds off as Gale pockets his change and he gives the other man a raised eyebrow.

“Pretty sure this is just what my face looks like, Everett.”

“Nah, sometimes you smirk a bit.” Everett grins at him. “Besides, it’s all in the eyes, and you’ve got sad eyes tonight, Major.”

“Think we’re all entitled to bad nights once in a while, given the circumstances.” Gale plucks a fresh toothpick from his pocket to replace the one he’d ruined, catches John leading the woman onto the dancefloor and can’t help but follow his movements with his eyes.

He wishes he was normal enough that the lives of the twenty men they’d lost two days ago was what was twisting his insides. Instead, it’s watching his best friend do a perfectly normal thing - flirt and twirl a girl around. Both realities of his reasons for hurting live heavy in his chest, like they’re located in different chambers, blessing him with the opportunity to feel different types of agony instead of just your average layer of pain.

“Gonna head out,” he says, nodding at Blakely, who lifts his glass in response.

John is in rare form this evening, giving up on dancing quickly and already guiding the girl towards the back door without a glance in Gale’s direction.

Because he’s normal. And normal men don’t think about their best friends when there’s a pretty girl hanging on their arm.

Bucky probably expects Gale to be waiting for him when he’s finished. Waiting to walk back together at the end of the night.

Or maybe he’s not thinking anything at all about Gale.

He’s the first one back. He’s always the first one back.

The shower room is vacant, and he takes his time, but he’s still alone when he makes his way back into the barracks. He’s still alone when he changes into his sleep clothes and lays in his cot.

And he is still alone an hour later when sleep refuses to sink her claws into him and drag him to some kind of relief.

Men slowly stumble in, and Gale closes his eyes, giving the illusion of slumber. He listens to the nightly routines of the men around him as they prepare for sleep, actions audibly clumsier than most nights in their inebriated states.

But drunken movements disturbing a quiet room are something Gale’s been hearing since he was a boy, so he finds them familiar and ignores the way they make his stomach tighten unpleasantly in anticipation.

More time paces, everyone settled into bed and Gale still can’t sleep.

Shuffling footsteps, intentionally quiet in their movements are the only thing that alerts him to John’s return. His cot is within arm’s reach of Gale’s own, but he’d thought it would remain empty tonight. The feeling of satisfaction that bubbles up in him is ugly and bitter, but he lets it boil under his skin as John returns to his side in the end.

Heavy, scratchy wool glides up the length of his torso until it rests under his chin. Strong hands tuck it under his shoulder blades and his hips. He tries to keep his breathing deep, feigning the same familiar pattern of sleep he listens to from John’s bunk each night to lull himself to sleep. A moment later, calloused fingers brush the product-less bangs off his forehead and run through the length of his hair.

The tender gesture almost forces his eyes open. That aching, craving hunger for more of what John will give him is a living thing in his chest. Those fingers ghost over his hair one more time and Gale uses every bit of strength in himself not to push up into the touch, not to whine when it’s gone.

He hears John let out a sigh that sounds mournful and he doesn’t understand what any of it means.

As John moves, most likely to turn away, Gale can smell her perfume.

If he opened his eyes he’d probably see her lipstick stained on his mouth, his neck. Knows with a gut-wrenching certainty that it’s probably stained in more intimate places, and he wishes John wasn’t too drunk to go take a shower.

Wishes it wouldn’t linger on him. Wishes it wasn’t on him at all. Doesn’t want to see the red of her lips on John’s when the new day dawns.

Imagines if it had been him under John’s arm leaving the pub, there wouldn’t even be a visible trace of him in the aftermath.

He’d be forgettable, inconsequential. Easy to forget. Easy to regret.

He keeps his eyes closed and wishes John hadn’t come back at all. Is so glad that he did.

A softly whispered “goodnight, Buck.” is breathed into the stale air of the barracks, and Gale lays awake for a long time after John’s breathing evens out into sleep, wishing he could join him in more ways than one.

#clegan #buck x bucky #mota fic #mota fanfic #JoeyAlohaWrites

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angelanderson · 1 year

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── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

TRINKETS- ELLIE WILLIAMS (fluff/100% sfw)

⚠️: men and minors dni. here’s the ellie williams fluff we’ve all wanted! short & sweet & not sad ♡ enjoy! xoxo (kinda edited)

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

it almost could be considered a shrine of sorts at this point. your girlfriend frequently brought you back things from patrol— she either thought you’d like it or if it reminded her of you. ellie lived for the way your eyes would light up when she showed you something she brought back just for you.

the first item ellie ever brought you back was a simple golden locket. heart-shaped and engraved with flowers around the edges. you made ellie pose for a polaroid picture, which you ended up gluing into the locket. you always wear the necklace, telling ellie it means she’s always close to your heart, no matter how far apart you may be that day. it’s simply your most prized possession.

the second gift is one that lives on your bed. ellie had brought you back a pink stuffed rabbit about a month into your relationship. she heard how worried you’d be while she was gone, so she got you a buddy to help with the anxiety. she even lets you spray it with her cologne when you get too upset about her leaving. while you still worry, you now feel calmer on your nights alone with a piece her to cuddle with. ellie definitely doesn’t keep a polaroid picture of you sleeping with it in her pocket to look at on patrols. definitely not.

another gift came soon after a drunken confession. it was spilled that you wish you could paint your nails like in the old magazines passed around jackson. dina had agreed with you, “yeah, i think i could definitely pull off a deep red color. it’d be cool to do.” unbeknownst to you, ellie had spent three months worth of patrols trying to find you some nail polish. forest fairy green, golden goose, sparkly pony pink, pink panthers, wine o’clock red, in bloom blue, and black 01 were given to you one wednesday after her patrol. you started crying after giggling about the silly names. “why are you crying? do you feel okay?” ellie frantically searched your face. you smiled through your tears, “i love you so much. i just can’t believe you remembered.” she kissed your forehead, “anything for my best girl. love you always.” safe to say you shared your red with dina so you could have matching nails with your friend.

the most recent post-patrol gift given to you was a cookbook. ellie had explained her and jesse explored an old bookstore, leading to some fun discoveries. after coming to jackson, it was soon discovered by everyone that you were massively talent when it came to cooking. plus, you’ve always taken pride in cooking dinner for both you and ellie. cooking together was also a favorite of both of yours. you’ve shared many wine and cooking date nights together.

committed to going on patrol one day to return the favor, you had finally convinced ellie to let you go on a safe supply run with jesse. it only took you five months of begging. ellie almost cried tears of happiness when you brought her back a leather bound journal. she had immediately noticed the three page long love letter, lipstick kiss, and polaroid picture of you two you’d put in the first few pages. to say it quickly became her most prized possession would be an under statement. she took it around with her frequently. it was her second little reminder of you when you two were apart. a lot of pages held little physical moments of your love together. she couldn’t have ever asked for a better gift or girlfriend.

#ellie williams fic #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #lesbian #the last of us #tlou

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tamelee · 4 months

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i just saw a posts about novels that went like

sarada told sasuke he has lipstick stain, sasuke tries to wipes it off and she says he doesn't have one and sakura doesn't wear lipstick.

how do they defend this novels with their lives? it confirms sasuke never kisses sakura and doesn't know if she wears lipstick or not and kisses someone else who wears lipstick. it also confirms naruto likes to wear lipstick XD.

Please. These novels are ridiculous. Kishimoto already confirmed they’ve never kissed in Gaiden. Twice.

(* something nicer = meant the forehead poke)

Though I wouldn't believe anyone if they said they actually like these novels, because the story (or lack thereof) is complete shit, but it’s fine if they do. A good story isn't the intention unfortunately. I genuinely wish that people understood what exactly it is they are defending. I’m writing a post for someone who asked something regarding canon, but I need to take brakes from it because it pisses me off that this happens constantly to franchises— not just Naruto.

And in this case it’s even worse, or perhaps it’s just a prime example, because Jun Esaka (writer for some of these novels) made such a fool of herself on twt by making it all too obvious what her intentions were by writing them. (If it wasn’t already obvious.) First, when people pointed out the many flaws, she admitted that it’s “just her story” and “just her interpretation” (she had only read 'Naruto' for the first time a few months before that), but when other ss-shippers started to defend her and said she was a better writer than Kishimoto (as there’s 0 love between SS when he writes), she basked in that glory and went along with it. Even to the point that she completely disrespected Kishimoto, the story, the craft, openly made fun of other characters (mostly Hinata) and ships like NH and demanded her other novels to be animated as well. It’s unprofessional af. And then when fans asked her for a nsfw novel for SS she agreed and told them to harass the company about it. (She didn’t say ‘harass’ exactly, but come on you can’t be that dense given their reputation with staff.)

What are they defending?

How can you defend anything when the motive is so obviously just personal bias/gain and/or financial profit to a company where both in this case don’t give a shit about the original story. It's not about shipping though, it happens all the damn time to all my favorite franchises and I'm genuinely sick of it. And it's not even about a writer writing about what they want either because I already expected that, but Esaka did her absolute best to try and disprove the bond between Naruto and Sasuke and change narratives completely even for individual cases for the sake of telling her "story". SNS-moments weren’t romantic to her and she quite literally made fun of it by copying them in her story to point out its "irrelevance", but give them to her het-ship and now all of a sudden it is romantic???? She basically calls Kishimoto a liar because ‘Sasuke Retsuden’ in particular is a direct response to ‘Gaiden’ (made by Kishimoto). She blatantly tried to disprove anything he said and indicated about her ship. She wrote about characters that, yes, have the same name as those in ‘Naruto’, but are so out of character it hurts. It took me months to recover my lost braincells.

I don't think my post about it is still up, but to name a few things in that novel if you're interested: Sasuke resents Naruto and his test-tube daughter because he’d rather travel with Sakura, his wife whom he loves so much. But he has to do stuff just because Hokage Naruto said so and his daughter wants to stay in Konoha so he has no choice but to comply. Being apart from his wife-(did we mention he loves her so much? because he does. so much.)- makes him feel so very lonely and he misses her body so much because he knows it so well. He fails to do anything other than being jealous about the women-deprived prisoners going after the new hot doctor, Sakura, who is his wife btw. that he loves a lot in case you missed it. and he rather stares at trees that remind him of her than helping his friend Naruto who’s apparently dying from his own chakra or whatever kind of bs. Sasuke lets himself be bullied by prison-guards that aren’t even Shinobi, for having long hair and looking like a girl, though Esaka makes sure to mention how so very handsome he is and he looks like a cat. Sasuke loses a battle against an overgrown lizard and tries the same damn jutsu 4 times(!!!!) before realizing it may actually not work, I think because he forgot how to fight, but he can however create anything from ice like Elsa (Frozen), or from dirt like some Gaara-hybrid to make Sakura a ring because he loves her so much ofc… oh and he’s now a healer too. Sasuke sacrifices people’s lives even when it’s not necessary at all bc ig Esaka thinks he's a killer, and also he wouldn’t mind being brought back with Edo Tensei if it means he can stay with Sakura, because fuck everything they’ve been through in the original story, yeah? They also immediately forgive the bad guy cuz he's so relatable even though he just murdered I dunno how many people. SS kiss while an injured Naruto is squished in between them because SS-shippers have some sort of “Naruto has to watch our ship being in love to really make it legit because that’ll learn him for getting in between!”-kink (that's real actually) and according to Esaka, Sasuke is so worried about his daughter and in fact did meet up with them during those 10+ years because he loves them oh-so-much and fuck you Kishimoto that’s why.

Be so fr right now. It’s such a joke. And these are just the few things on the top of my head that I remembered ;-; ...

Again, what are they defending exactly? It would be nice to just have a genuine fan of the story write an actual story. No other motive other than "I really like the story and would love to explore some options while respecting Kishimoto's work because it'd be fun!" Except, that's unfortunately not very marketable and ffs it's just sad. (I know there's a Kakashi version and I personally really want to know more about his role as Hokage and what he's done etc, but alas.)

#asktamelee #naruto fandom talk #naruto marketing #naruto rant #hetsuden

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supercriminalbean · 2 years

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Jail Bird.

Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader.

Okay so this is my first every fanfic, I’m not entirely happy with this but fuck it. It's been sitting in my drafts for 6 months so I’m now posting it. Um, enjoy. I hope Thank you.

Do not repost this on other sites thank you.

Summary: Night out with Garcia goes south so what happens when you have to ring Hotch to pick you up from Jail one night. What could happen between you two.

Gender Netural reader, they/them pronouns.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, alcohol, assault, being drugged, jail, police assault, fighting, kissing. (If I forgot anything let me know)

Words: 2.9k

“We really messed up this time, didn’t we (Y/n)” Penelope groans resting her head on your shoulder. You are both resting on the benches in the holding cell, your eyes scan around the room, there are five other people in the cells. Three drunk men asleep on the floor leaning against the walls and Two younger girls, leaning against each other on the benches opposite you, looking scared, cold and alone. Glancing down at Penelope, you see her left eye is starting to swell. Her hair she had up earlier, now a complete mess, along with her lipstick and mascara all smudge. Realisation hits that you must look similar if not worse.

“Yeah we fucked up, but the worst part is we now need someone to bail us out” Letting out a breathles sigh. Regret fills you up, letting your head drop onto hers, for some rest. You really fucked up this time, wondering to yourself why do you go out drinking tequila with this women. Your head is pounding, with the alcohol in your systems, the lights in here making it so much worse.

“We can ring Derek, he will tease us but that's better than Emily's teasing” Garcia suggests, closing her eyes, exhausted.

“I wish we could, but he's in California doing a conference with Reid and Emily, remember?” You groan out.

“What about if we ring JJ?” Shaking your head in response, as you remember she's gone on holiday and with that, it only leaves you with two choices.

“Nope, JJ went on a romantic weekend with Will.” Rubbing your hands over your face, sitting up straight.

“So that leaves us with…” She trails off, her eyes opening slowly.

“Yep” sighs “Hotch or Rossi”

“We are screwed” Garcia goes quiet, coming to the same realisation as you.

“We still have a couple more hours before we are allowed to call anyone, Pen, try to get some rest, you are going to need it by the time we get out of here” Looking down at her head on your shoulders noticing her eyes are already closing. After a while her breathing evens out as she falls into a light sleep.

A couple hours pass by slowly, as you get to watch the sun coming up through a small window across the room. Glancing at the clock, noticing that it is only 5:23am, giving you 7 minutes left until you can finally get a phone call, and hope to leave. Glancing down at Garcia, you see that she's now awake, and staring at the clock. Her left eye is still swollen and a bruise is slowly forming. Looking around the room, knowing that no one else has joined you throughout the night. The two girls across from you are finally asleep. During the night, you had given one of them your jacket to keep her warm, as she was starting to shake. Soon one of the police officers walks over, unlocking the cell and gestures to you and Garcia to stand up.

“One of you two come here, you get the first call of the morning” He holds the cell door open.

Turning to Garica you speak quietly, your body filled with exhaustion and anxiety.

“Pen, you go, ring Rossi he's got a soft spot for you, and less likely to yell this early”

She nods as she gets up and walks out quietly, just as nervous as you.

About ten minutes goes past, when she walks back in looking even more depressed than before, if that was even possible right now. Sitting down beside you she speaks, her voice sounding strained, from dehydration and stress.

“He didn't answer and they wouldn't let me ring anyone else” She rested her head against the wall.

“I really do not want to ring Hotch right now” Groaning with dread as you stand up. Your legs feel like jelly, being uneasy on your feet, moving slowly forward feeling light headed from the alcohol and the lack of sleep.

“Oi hurry up, i'm not holding this door open all day” Rolling your eyes at the officer as you walk out, following him to the phone.

“You get two attempts to call, better hope they answer” The officer leans against the wall watching you, giving you an uneasy feeling.

“Right thanks” Sighing as you pick up the phone and punching in Hotch’s work number, knowing he's most likely to answer that one, rather than his personal. It rings five times, your heart is pounding as you fear he won’t answer, or worse that he will.

“Hello Hotchner '' His voice sounding heavy with sleep,

“Um hey Hotch it’s me, (Y/n). I'm sorry to have to ring you but” Taking a quick breath, as your voice shakes with anxiety.

“(Y/n)? Are you okay? Why are you ringing me so early on a saturday?” His voice filled with concern. You can't help but to imagine, his eyebrows narrowing in confusion.

“I messed up Hotch, I mean it, I really really messed up. I need your help please?” Tears springing to your eyes, realising how bad the situation could have ended up being.

“What happened, where are you?” His voice is groggy but starts to sound more awake.

“Down at the police station, in the holding cells with Garica” Your voice trailing off, closing your eyes, waiting for his response. The other side of the line goes quiet for a short moment.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was soft but you could almost hear a harsh tone coming through.

“Not really.. We had too much to drink, we got in a fight, we need someone to bail us out, please.” You sigh tiredly, hearing him huff angrily,

“I will be there soon” is the last thing you hear before the line goes dead.

“Hotch is on his way” You let out a long breath, sitting back down beside her. “I'm so sorry Penelope, I got us into this mess” Rubbing your hands over your face, something you do when you’re stressed.

“This is not your fault, you did what anyone would do, it's just your luck you would punch the wrong guy” She smiles gently, trying her best to make light of this situation. You can't help but smile weakly at her.

“I'm just sorry they got away and that you got hurt” Glancing at her black eye.

“You got hurt, more than I did, my eye hurts but I'll be okay, how are your ribs? They seem to punch you hard” Her voice filled with concern.

“Yeah they got a few good hits in, definitely going to bruise” Placing your hand gently on your side, wincing slightly. “You know Hotch is going to kill us right?” You smirk slightly.

“Oh he won't, you know we are his favourite in the team” Giggling slightly, she adds. “Plus we know Hotch can't stay mad at you for long” Rolling your eyes up at her remembering what she let slip last night, about a bet the team had.

The officer walks back over, unlocking the cell watching them.

“You two really do work for the FBI?” He questions.

“Yep that's us” You slowly stood up, your body feeling even heavier than before.

“Huh, I thought that was, just drunk talking last night”

Following the officer back out to the front, you see Hotch finishing signing off some paperwork at the front desk. Sending Garcia a quick nervous glance, as you look at Hotch, who has his disappointed boss face on.

“Let's go” He walks over to the door, holding it open for you both.

As you three start walking out to his car. Your arms are folded across your chest, rubbing your arms gently trying to stay warm. You regret wearing shorts that only go halfway to your knees, and a low, thin top. It starts raining, the sky covered in stormy grey clouds. Garcia pulls her jacket tighter out herself, only wearing a thin dress, she looks like she is freezing as much as you. As you walk over, towards his car in complete silence. He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, helping slide your arms in. He is standing extremely close to you as he opens the front passenger door of his car for you. You glance over at Garcia and see her smirking at you, raising your eyebrow at her in confusion. Wondering how she's finding this so amusing, as you get into the car.

“What the hell happened?” His eyes narrow as he starts driving.

“Um Garcia, want to take this one?” You look beggingly at her.

“No, (Y/n) you tell me. Now” his eyes glance at you, his face filled with anger.

“Okay look, it's not that bad, okay we did what we thought was right, with a few too many drinks in us” You try to reason.

“Oh a few to many drinks, really, because they said you punched a cop”

Your hands run over your face feeling stressed. “I did do that, but that was an accident, I didn't know he was cop”

“Right and that makes it okay, you are a FBI agent (Y/L) you can not be getting into fights, and you can not be dragging Garcia into trouble as well”

“Sir can I just say something please” Garcia begins, Hotch goes quite watching her closely, in the rear facing mirror.

“It wasn't their fault, another guy started it, we were sitting at the bar, doing some shots, and this older guy, like he was older than you and he started flirting with some girls beside us, these girls who are barely of age they were clearly uncomfortable” Garcia talks quickly mumbling some of her words. She still seems a little bit drunk, and nervous trying to explain herself to her boss.

“Yeah so I was watching him, I thought maybe we might need to help them, but then I saw his friend on the other side of the girls slip something in one of their drinks, so I kind of pushed my way though the first guy to talk to the girls and told them what the other guy did”

“Yeah he did not like that” You nod along with Garcia.

“So let me guess he got angry?” Hotch sighs, his face relaxing slightly.

“Oh extremely, next thing I knew I was being pushed to the ground, so I got up and we started fighting, I was soon fighting like three grown ass dudes, I was doing well until this guy grabbed me by the hair”

“So I may have jumped on his back and pulled him down” Garcia adds “Then the Police turned up, and tried to break up the fight”

“I didn't see that, they were Cops, so I accidentally punched him in the face, and broke his nose, and then the other three guys got away” Slowly lifting your head up to look at Hotch.

“Did you tell all this to the officers?” His voice softens, glancing at you, his expression is hard to read, before he's back looking at the road.

“We did, they said if it is true they won't press charges on me, so they are checking the cameras today” Hotch nods, listening, we go quiet. As we pull up outside Penelope place.

“Garcia” Hotch sighs slightly “Get some rest today, and I’ll see you at work tomorrow”

“Yes sir, thank you” she smiles as she goes to get out.

“Wait, Garica, remember to ice your eye and get some cream on it” He adds, with a small smile.

She smiles “I will do that, thank you Sir” she closes the door and walks inside.

As you both make the way back to your apartment, it's completely silent for the first few blocks.

“Are you going to say anything to me at all Aaron?”

“What do you want me to say (Y/n), huh?, you ring me, 5:30 in the morning, to come get you and Garcia out of jail, after you cancelled our plans last night to go get drunk” Hotch snaps angrily.

“You said you were okay with us changing our plans, seeing as Jack had a sleep over any way I figure movie night was cancelled, it is just a movie Aaron” Snapping slightly, closing your eyes tired

“This isn't about the movie, this is about you drinking too much.”

“Me drinking to much?, Hotch, I had a couple to many, yes, but this was not my fault, I wasn't going to let those girls get drugged and who knows what else, we see what can happen to girls like that everyday, there was no way we were going to let that happen” You argue loudly.

“You could of gone a different way, keep those girls safe, and yourself”

“I am fine Hotchner and so are those girl”

“NO (Y/L) You are not fine, you have blood on your face, and bruises going down your arms, and you smell like a nightclub” He parks his car outside your apartment building. You turn to him surprised.

“Did you just (Y/L) me?

“You Hotchner me” he crosses his arms, you huff as you undo your seatbelt and open your door.

“See you at work Aaron” Getting out of the car, slamming the door closed. Hotch gets out and walks towards you. “What are you doing Aaron?”

“I am walking you inside, this conversation is not over”

“Whatever” Rolling your eyes, again. You two make your way inside and up 4 flights of stairs and finally, unlocking your door after a long night. All you really want to do is have a shower, but first you have to deal with whatever lecture Aaron wants to give you.

Walking inside you head straight over to the kitchen to turn the coffee pot on, Aaron following behind you closely, watching you silently.

“I know I'm great to watch but can you stop going silent. It's really annoying.” You look up at him. Instead of answering he walks away into the bathroom, walking back out holding a cloth.

“Take my jacket off and sit. '' He stands by the table and pulls out a seat at the table for you. Sighing as you pull his jacket off as you make your way to him, placing it on the table before taking a seat. One of his hands reached up to your face gently holding your chin, keeping you in place.

“Aaron I can clean myself up” Your words come out quietly, exhausted.

“Do not try and argue with me agent” A smirk plays into his voice. Gently he cleans the dried blood and dirt off your face, wincing slightly as he cleans the blood off your bottom lip.

You can’t tell if it's the alcohol still in your system, or if you're just so sleep deprived. But you can't stop staring at his face seeing how handsome he looks when he's concentrating. How the brown in his eyes seems golden in the lighting. Your check starts burning as you realise how close you are to him, and how all you want to do is melt into his arms as he holds you close.

His hands move slowly and gently, washing the blood and dirt off your skin. You watch his hand move, biting your lips as you stare at them. What you say next to him, you want to blame the alcohol.

“Hey Aaron, did you know the team has a betting pool on us?”

He looks up a little confused, a smirk on his beautiful lips. “They do?”

“Yeah Pen told me last night that they all think we are secretly dating, and that's why we are always watching movies, or why I'm over at your place teaching Jack how to bake.” You laugh slightly.

“Huh, they really think we are dating?” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“It's not the worst idea in the world” Biting your lip looking him in the eyes.

“Well I mean I am your boss, that would be highly inappropriate” He smirks, shaking his head slightly.

“Maybe, but I think inappropriate went out the window after we started cuddling on the couch watching movies with your son.” Your words come out slowly, watching for his reaction. He smiles softly, his eyes filling with hope and love, he looks up at you, placing the cloth down.

“You know, both of us are profilers, yet we are so oblivious aren't we” You blush softly as he takes your hand.

“We are, Dave keeps calling me an idiot for not telling you how I feel” You can’t help but laugh along with him.

“We really are idiots, aren't we Hotchner” Biting your lip softly, leaning closer to him.

“That we are” He smirks. “I think I'm supposed to ask you on a date now?” Shaking your head, a laugh still on your lips.

“I'm pretty sure we have been on plenty of dates, we just never realised” You tease as he leans forward.

“That means I can do this then” He chuckles softly as he closes the gap between them, his lips capturing yours softly. His arms coming up wrapping around your body pulling you close you can’t help but melt into his touch.

#criminal minds #criminal minds one shot #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #reader in jail aaron bails them out #aaron hotchner x gender netural reader #Penelope garcia #penelope garcia x reader

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inawearyworld · 9 months

Text

free if you truly wish to be: chapter iv

shit goes DOWN. as y'all have probably gathered. bc. yknow. the plot of the movie. but first there's a song yayyyyyyyyy

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

god, i love musicals.

(edit: realized after posting that i was looking at the wrong page of the screenplay while writing this and therefore royally screwed up the song structure of a world of your own but it’s fiiiiiiine)

once again, thank you mat for that interview taking a typical one-dimensional dahl villain and letting him be a more complex character. also i should probably throw a content warning on this one for depiction of a slightly abusive relationship

but i promise everything's gonna be okay soon-happy new year everyone!!

part three fic masterlist part five

While going through a time of personal growth involving trying to unravel one’s identity from that of one’s rich and powerful husband, it often happens that there are advantages to said husband being wrapped in worry over a new business rival-and, therefore, spending far more time at the office.

Wren’s favorite advantage at the present moment was that she was the only one to watch the mail come in.

Deep purple stationery was the signal she looked for-and steadily received, then returned with her own emerald letters-every day. The notes included scrawled updates regarding the operation to allow the earnest young chocolatier his day in the sun, anecdotes about the group of launderers that supported it (who she’d snuck out to meet often enough that they now felt like a second family), tales of a mysterious orange man, and exchanges of advice, witticisms, and Shakespeare quotes.

The handwriting was inexperienced, and there were more than a fair share of spelling errors toward the start of their correspondence, but she didn’t care a whit.

We’ve got the shop, Willy had written one day. For now, the task is digging through its decrepit debris and designing its decoration. (The credit for those words goes to Noodle-she says hello.) There are so many possibilities, I barely know where to start.

Start with the “why”, Wren wrote back. That’s what I always do. If there’s a piece I’m struggling to sing and I lose motivation to practice, I go back to the reasons I love the piece, even all the way back to the reasons I love the arts in the first place. Maybe there’s something in there for your shop-what made you want to share your chocolate with the world? (And hello to you too, Noodle!)

My dear Wren, came the reply, you’ve just given me the best of ideas.

He told her then about his mother and the inspiration she provided. Wren would be lying if she’d said a tear hadn’t fallen onto that particular letter.

As for how to keep him safe from the Cartel, police, and every other corrupt authority, Wren did her part by becoming Florence again whenever necessary. She acted less suspicious around her husband, leading him to be less secretive-although the gain in information was miniscule, it was better than nothing.

Felix’s rages would range anywhere from tittering, jealous rants to scheming monologues during which his whole being seemed to take on a lower, darker, more calculating tone. She’d listen carefully to all of these, tactfully calling out anything that might get him to consider he was wrong, but that had little to no effect.

Plan B, then, she’d realized, is all I can do.

So, whenever Felix seemed particularly incensed or just on the verge of coming up with how to destroy his rival, Florence would swoop in with wine and dark lipstick and a low-cut dress. She’d endure being his caged pet songbird, his doll, his perfect plaything, only because she had the growing feeling that things were about to change.

If Willy’s shop becomes successful enough to be completely undeniable, maybe the Cartel will finally acknowledge him as an equal. Maybe I’ll finally be seen as an equal, too. Maybe things will finally be truly fine.

So, night after night, she’d sit on her husband’s lap, twirl his tie, and kiss his neck until he’d forgotten the name of Wonka.

The same could not be said for her.

Due to just how glamorized she always had to be while in public, it didn’t take much to come up with disguise enough to be able to visit the new shop on its opening day.

With a fluttering sense of hope, Wren approached the fourth building of the Galeries Gourmet, blending in seamlessly with the sea of soon-to-be-wonderstruck passers-by. She cast a few nervous glances to the window of the Fickelgruber office, at which the man stood in his usual stance. There was no chance, though, of his recognizing her trademark ginger flame amongst the crowd; it was safely tucked under a dark, low-brimmed hat.

This could have set her mind at ease, but the fact that he looked even more smug than usual as he surveyed the ground below him made her nervous.

Did they plan something?

She was distracted from this worry by a sudden flash of color at the long-empty shop’s door. Willy Wonka stepped through, looking more himself than she could have ever imagined. He addressed the crowd with a flourish, and she marveled at his ability to combine showmanship with authenticity.

He took a skeptical older man’s arm, leading him to the shop’s entrance, and began to sing.

All at once, the shop transformed before all of their eyes, flooding with color, and the music settled into a sparking pulse that thrilled Wren to the core.

Willy grinned, fully in his element, and the doorway went dark. Gloved hands presented chocolate wonders as their creator sang them into existence. When he lit a match, the store seemed to come alive, and Wren gasped.

If his letter was anything to go by, the sight he had created was an homage to his childhood on his mother’s boat, brought to life in a way nearly too beautiful to be true.

Willy and the other man danced up a bridge of sorts as his song continued, proudly offering his shop as a world for each of his customers to call their own. Overtaken and lifted by the enchanting environment, Wren squealed with the rest of the crowd and ran into the shop, ripping the hat from her head and allowing her auburn curls to tumble freely down.

She threw her head back and laughed aloud. Her lack of makeup, and plain blouse and skirt replacing the usual emerald-colored finery, gave her assurance that she wouldn’t be recognized here; this was the closest thing she’d experienced to liberation in a very long while, and she relished it, along with the sweetly simple soar of Willy’s voice across his song.

When she looked up at him again, he was sitting on the boat that floated on the circling chocolate river, and she noticed he’d already been staring with a sideways grin. As the bassline that came from nowhere launched into a rollicking chromatic vamp, he tipped his hat to her, and she gave an enamored wave.

The second verse passed, and suddenly he’d reached her, extending a hand which she took without a second thought. He helped her onto the boat, then pulled her alarmingly close, but before she could say a thing about it, a cloud of smoke appeared around them.

Wren blinked and realized that she and Willy were now at the base of the massive chocolate tree in the center of the shop.

“How did you-”

But he only smiled and started to dance his way up the tree.

“A world of your own,” he sang, then gestured an invitation straight towards her.

This’ll be easy enough, she thought, nearly bursting with joy.

“A place to escape to,” she continued, running farther up the tree to meet him in the middle. His expression filled with awe upon finally hearing her sing, and they began a whirling back-and-forth.

“A world of your own-”

“-where you can be free!”

“Wherever you go, wherever life takes you…”

“This is your home,” she sang to him, twirling herself into his arms and beaming with pride. He’s found it-he’s created it.

“A world of your own,” they finished. He looked at her for a moment, seeming struck, then kissed her hand and disappeared through the branches of the tree to continue with the song’s bridge. She let out a dazed and happy breath, taking a moment to let her gaze roam the shop from her perch in the chocolate tree.

She didn’t know what would happen next, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let herself enjoy this moment.

What did happen next was…as an understatement, not what any of them had hoped.

She wished she could say it was a complete surprise, and she wished she could have done more to stop it. The candy started having disastrous effects, the customers understandably balked, and it was clearly not Willy’s fault in the least. In a blur, the shop was in ruins, and Wren sat in shock with the little group who’d worked so hard to make it magical.

The candyman himself was devastated; not just by the massive setback, but by the absence of his mother’s spirit. Wren and Noodle sat by his side, but Abacus ushered them up. It broke Wren’s heart to think of leaving him like this-if the truest and most trusting dreamer on Earth can be broken down, where’s the hope for the rest of us?-but she somehow still felt she had to follow the group out.

She felt a hug around her waist and a held-back sob, and looked down to see Noodle clinging onto her. Wren immediately knelt to her level and hugged the girl close, finding it hard now to keep back her own tears.

“Terrible shame what-”

“Florence?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her breath dropping to the floor.

Slugworth had spoken first, a smooth and practiced opening to what would have turned into a gloat. The voice that had interrupted him was genuinely shaken and clearly belonging to her husband.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Noodle, who nodded. “You can go, you shouldn’t have to see this-”

“Florence,” his voice came again, at a loss. She took a breath, stood up, and faced him with tears in her voice.

“Hi, Felix.”

Silence.

Slugworth looked with growing puzzlement between the woman and the girl, and Felix could only stare at his wife with dawning realization.

“You’ve been working with him,” he said simply, every usual quirk of inflection having vanished.

For a moment, the wash crew surrounded her in an attempt at a shield, and she heaved a breath to keep back a sob-of fear, of gratefulness for these friends that had become family over the past weeks, of everything suddenly crashing down.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly to the wash crew and perhaps to myself. “You all should go. Like you were going to. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t move.

She looked at Piper, whose worried hand was on her arm. There was an unspoken vow of protection between the women in that moment, but Wren’s eyes pleaded, so Piper nodded sadly, took Noodle’s hand, and the group left.

Wren was almost afraid to look at Willy, but she did; the boy was staring at the old chocolate bar in his hands, looking as if he could barely process a thing.

The sympathy in her gaze must have been far too obvious, because she suddenly heard footsteps, felt a hard grip on her wrist, and gasped in pain as it was yanked up and backwards.

“Darling,” Felix hissed with a sinister edge, though his voice was breaking, “I don’t know how or why this betrayal-”

“Betrayal?” she finally cried out, breaking free from his grasp as Willy rushed between them. “You lot have just poisoned dozens of innocent people, all for a business rivalry, and I won’t-”

“If you want your family not to starve, you had better lower your voice,” he barked.

Every speck of air seemed to leave the room.

“...My family?”

“I may have been distracted enough for the past weeks to ignore the mail that came in and out of our house, but I had not always been that blind. I thought your compassion to be an incomprehensible gesture, but I let it slide. When I felt like it.”

…They haven’t gotten everything I’ve sent.

They haven’t-

“In fact,” he continued, “it served as what was almost a pleasant reminder of the truth. For your family, for your stupid dream, and for your sweetly dependent soul-you need me.”

“If you knew I was poor, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s the same way for me!”

This was the peak of what had been a building explosion, and this was the moment in which they both remembered there were other people in the room.

“What?” the four besides him breathed, almost in unison.

“Oh, you heard right,” Felix launched into speech, the characteristic gestures starting to work their way back into him. “I came from nearly nothing, just the same. But I did what I had to do to climb to the top. I cast them all away, left my old life behind completely, and I suppose it was a foolish hope to think my wife would do the same. But she-but you-you are nothing but a guileless, deceitful bleeding heart.”

“I…”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I am…genuinely sorry that you felt you had to hide your past, but that doesn’t excuse trying to make the rest of the world match your insecurity and fit your little chocolate mold. And if that makes me a bleeding heart…I’m proud of the title.”

For a moment, the man looked as if he would allow his wife’s words to affect him.

Then his face, normally so expressive, turned completely cold.

She’d lost him.

She’d never truly had him to lose.

But she looked at Willy, and she thought of the wash crew, and she realized she finally had a truer support system. And if she could try to start over, find some other way to earn money to send to her family without interception, and some other way to reach the dreams that felt so far away at the moment, she knew Felix would be wrong: she didn’t need him.

After a long silence, Slugworth cleared his throat.

“Get her out of here. We have business with Mr. Wonka.”

What?

Her and the younger man’s eyes widened, and they grabbed each other’s hands on instinct, but a small number of policemen came around the corner of the shop door at Slugworth’s order. They clamped hands on her shoulders and dragged her away from Willy as the Cartel stood silently and watched.

“Wait-wait, no, I-”

“Wren-”

She struggled, fought, kicked, but was forced into the backseat of a police car-

“Let me go, you corrupt bastards-”

“Wren-”

“Let me-”

“Just drop her somewhere in town,” Felix said coolly. “Somewhere that isn’t my home.”

“WREN!”

The car door was slammed, and the last thing she saw was the Cartel advancing on a dazed Willy, opening a suitcase of cash.

All she could do was scream, and the scream turned into a cry.

They did indeed drop her somewhere. She burst out of the car the second it had stopped, and the officers drove away without a word.

Sick with worry and trying to regain her breath, she looked around, almost fainting with relief when she saw the laundry building. Piper, having heard the commotion, stood outside, and they looked at each other for a moment before Wren fell sobbing into her arms.

This is not over.

#fiytwtb #wonka movie #wonka 2023 #wonka #willy wonka x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet #wonka x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mathew baynton x reader #mat baynton x reader

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pinkydevil16 · 2 years

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Eric Northman x reader

Eric stared at Sookie, his annoyance peaking as he waited for her to get to the point, his eyes darting to Pam as she reapplied her lipstick with a sneer at the small blonde.

"Bill is missing and i think he's taken Y/n with him." Eric's attention instantly snapped to her, Y/n was a friend of Sookie's that Eric had taken an interest in but she was firm in her stance that she didn't want the 6 foot viking to claim her as he had asked.

"He has Y/n. Why was this not raised to me the second she went missing?" Eric's voice came out bitter as Sookie folded her arms with an annoyed huff, she was there to find Bill, Y/n tended to go missing from time to time but something Bill had said made her believe he had taken her with him.

"She tends to drop off the face of the earth from time to time, but Bill had mentioned that apparently another vampire had been coming to Merlow's and asking about me and Y/n. Then he's gone and so is she, Y/n hadn't mentioned anything and normally she would tell Sam if she was going to be off. I don't know anything else, i need to find Bill." Eric didn't care about Bill, he was a nuisance at the best of time but normally he was causing Eric extreme annoyance and making his relationship with Y/n a thousand times harder.

"I will reach out to some contacts, i do not care to find Bill but whoever has taken Y/n will meet the true death." Sookie didn't get a chance to respond before Eric was gone, Pam smirking as she walked towards the door waiting for the short blonde to follow her.

"You should have called him the second she was gone, you don't use your resources." Pam waited until Sookie was out the door, giving her a smirk before slamming the door in her face, the club opening in an hour but now she had to find out what Eric planned to do. Her heels clicking against the ground as she entered the office, Eric swearing in his native tongue down the phone before slamming it down, Pam giving him an odd look as he grabbed his jacket.

"It appears one of Bill's old next friends decided to pay him a visit and thought he would take Y/n as collateral. I will be back soon." Eric left before Pam could speak, rolling her eyes as she muttered out about humans.

Y/n laid on the dirty ground, her legs chained to the ground as she turned her head to look at Bill, his fangs popped as he looked at her. Y/n scowled at him, pulling her body further away from him, he hadn't fed in nearly a week and the vampire who took them had been teasing him with Y/n's blood.

"Put those away before i rip them out." Y/n sneered, she had been chained up for 4 days now and was becoming more and more annoyed with Bill's behaviour.

"I cannot help it Miss Y/n." Y/n rolled her eyes, she didn't mind Bill normally but he and Sookie seemed to be constantly dragging her into vampire related messes which were getting on her last nerve.

"And i can't help being held against my will so if you even think about putting those little needles near me, so help me god i will stake you." Y/n turned her head away from him, staring at the ceiling as Bill forced his fangs back inside trying not to concentrate on the sweet smell of her blood that was tempting him almost as much as Sookie's did. Y/n brought her hand to her face rubbing her eyes, she'd been given food and drink once a day, barely enough to keep someone alive but it was better than being drained dry. The basement door creaked open, the creepy vampire walking down the stairs as he smirked at Y/n and Bill, inhaling loudly as he stood over Y/n.

"It appears you are on Eric Northman's radar Miss L/N, i just had a very frantic phone call from a friend of mine warning me about him." Y/n didn't react, she hadn't thought of Eric but now she actually wanted him to annoy her, she usually hated when he would come and see her but now she wished he would.

"She is his." Bill said the words quickly, Y/n snapping her head to him ready to shout and curse at him for even insinuating she would touch him with a 5 foot pole. Bill's eyes begging her not to say anything, the creepy vampire seeming to shiver and took a step away from Y/n as he looked her over. Y/n stared back at the vampire her eyebrow raised to challenge him before she was suddenly dragged from the ground, the chains on her snapped off as the vampire tossed her over his shoulder. Y/n made a grunt in pain as she landed, the vampire glaring at Bill before he rushed Y/n out the basement, reaching the porch just as Eric waltzed out the woods. The vampire froze, his eyes darting between Eric and the house, rushing inside as Eric ran forward. The doorway stopping Eric from getting in as he flashed his fangs, the younger vampire positioning Y/n in front of him, holding her throat as he dropped his fangs.

"Give her to me now." Eric's voice had dropped an octave, his gaze heated on the vampire as Y/n grasped the vampire's hand trying to loosen the grip on her throat.

"You really should listen to him, i mean he's a viking." Y/n wheezed out, the vampire tightening his grip slightly, just enough that Y/n squeezed her eyes closed in pain, Eric moving away from the door to break off wooden stakes.

"You have 5 seconds to let her go before i start throwing stakes." Eric's threat made the vampire loosen his grip, Y/n taking a deep breath as she felt herself be thrown over the doorway, Eric catching her before she hit the floor. The vampire speeding i to the basement, Eric holding Y/n close to him as she got her breath back.

"Let go of the human." Y/n said, Eric chuckling as he picked her up, running to a safer location before allowing her sit stand on her own, Y/n pushing his hands off her as she did a wiggle shaking her legs as she tried to get the feeling of the chains and other vampire off her.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked watching her oddly as she seemed possessed, Y/n stopping and looking at him with a wide grin.

"Thank you, i just needed to get the feeling of that vampire touching me gone." Eric nodded, taking Y/n's hand and pulling her closer to him, Y/n looking oddly at where their hands touched.

"So...how come you knew we were gone...WAIT! Bill is still in there!" Y/n went from awkward to concerned as she turned running back towards the house, Eric rolling his eyes as he ran pulling her back to him with a head shake.

"I have people retrieving him. You were the one i cared about." Y/n stared at him for a moment before punching his shoulder, her hand instantly aching as she bent over in pain clutching her hand. Eric looking at her oddly as she yelped.

"Shit, that was meant to hurt you not me." Eric smirked at Y/n as she held her wounded hand, he could see they weren't broken but he wondered if she would accept his blood if he said it was.

"What was that for?" He asked, Y/n blowing on her knuckles to cool the skin as she glared at him.

"Stop telling everyone i belong to you, it's weird." Eric let out a chuckle as he watched Y/n, her face serious as she crossed her arms and glared at him waiting for him to say he wouldn't do it again.

"I do believe you said people should listen to me, i am a viking. We are not known for letting what is ours be let loose." Y/n groaned rolling her eyes and pushing him, Eric staying still as she tried putting her whole body into it.

"You're a bastard you know that? I am not yours, i am mine." Eric moved her hand off his chest, pulling her into him as she looked up at him with a scowl.

"You are cute." Y/n felt her face turn red as he spoke, his voice so innocent she wouldn't believe he'd said it if anyone else was present.

"You need to read signals." Y/n retorted, rolling her eyes as Eric smirked down at her, his fangs out.

"Hmm, maybe." Eric replied, Y/n lifting her finger up to poke his fang, Eric letting her as he grinned widely, his hand catching hers and forcing her finger to his lips, a small kiss on the tip of her pointer finger. Y/n coughed, Eric allowing her to take her hand back, he enjoyed the cat and mouse.

"Anyway...can we go? I need a really good shower." Eric smirked at her, bending down to pick her up as she squeaked, her stomach landing on his shoulder gently as he held the back of her thighs.

"What a tempting offer Y/n." Y/n smacked his back, before she felt the harsh winds around her as he flew them back to fangtasia, only taking minutes although Y/n was ready to hurl as soon as he placed her on solid ground.

"I hate that." Y/n complained, Eric opening the door to let her through, the night club already packed as she looked at Eric with confusion, his hand taking hers to pull her through the crowd. Vampires parting and dragging humans with them as they nodded to the sheriff, Y/n ignoring everyone as she got pulled along, Eric closing the door behind them as she stood in his office.

"This isn't my house." Y/n stated looking at Eric expectantly.

"I saved you, you can shower here and stay until tomorrow." Y/n raised an eyebrow, it wasn't a request it was an order, weighing her options she tilted her head side to side.

"Fine but i don't want any strippers clothes." Eric smirked before leading her to the bathroom and leaving her to have privacy. Eric left some clothes folded up outside the door before going back to sit on his throne with a nod to Pam. Y/n scrubbed at her skin, the small cuts and puncture marks had luckily been hidden from Eric before but she knew he probably smelt the dried blood on her skin, stepping out she wrapped a towel around herself and another small one around her hair. Towel drying her hair Y/n poked her head out grabbing the bundle of clothes, her eyebrow raising as she looked at the men's shirt, boxers and bra. Sighing she threw on the clothes, the shirt reaching her upper thighs with the boxers covering her butt, the bra oddly the right size as she tied her hair up. Exiting the bathroom she placed her clothes in the bag, a pair of slippers by the door which she slipped on quickly. Walking through the office she found Pam at the door with a grin, the door wide open and Eric looking at her from the throne, frowning she began walking towards him. Standing in front of the throne she crossed her arms with a cocked hip, Eric smirking at her from where he sat aware of the eyes on them. His hand outstretching to her, Y/n staring at it for a moment before seeing the slight warning in his eyes, he tolerated a lot but not infront of those beneath him and she knew not to risk it. Sighing she took his hand, Eric pulling her so she sat across his lap, her feet dangling over the side of the seat and butt between his legs as he felt her relax against him.

"How much did he hurt you?" Eric spoke softly but Y/n could hear the strain, the want to sneer it out as he looked over her uncovered legs seeing a puncture wound on her calf. Y/n shrugged relaxing more into him as she crossed her arms, her eyes closing as she let out a small shiver, she could feel Eric's heated stare as he ran a finger over the wound.

"Couple of bites, cuts, nothing i can't handle...do you always keep it so cold in here?" Eric let a small smile crack as he kept running his hands along her legs, his fingers catching on the cuts as he resisted the urge to force his blood down her throat, the wounds almost healed so he couldn't drop his blood onto them.

"I can warm you up?" Eric ran his hands along her upper thighs, the tips of his fingers running under the boxers until her hand came down on his.

"Don't ruin this." Eric gave her a smile although she didn't see. Her eyes still closed as she enjoyed the comfort he brought, being chained up in a basement had not been her ideal way to sleep for the last few days. Eric waited until she was half asleep, the noise in the room still loud but her body was so exhausted she didn't mind, her breathing evening as she relaxed fully into half consciousness. Looking at Pam he watched her bring over a small glass with a straw, biting his wrist he dropped a good amount of his blood into the glass before dipping the straw into it and placing it against Y/n's lips.

"Drink." Y/n didn't think twice, didn't even open her eyes, completely trusting him as she took a sip before the cold liquid hit her lips and her eyes snapped open, her hand coming to smack the glass out his hand. The glass shattered nearby, her body now sat up and hands wiping angrily at her lips, Pam cleaning the blood quickly as fang bangers ran to it, others mumbling about the ungrateful human on the powerful vampires lap.

"You bas-" Eric placed his hand on her mouth pushing her back to her laying position, the shirt she wore riding up as she squirmed under his hold, his other hand holding her thighs as he watched all her wounds heal and the puncture marks disappear. Eric smirked as he watched the punctures disappear, no sign of another touching her or claiming her, turning his head back to her he saw the dark glare she gave him as she kept fighting against his hold.

"You cannot be marked by others." Y/n shouted into the palm against her mouth, desperately trying to get out of the hold as she tried to bite him, anything to get him to let go of her. Eric leant down, staring deep into her eyes as she tried to close them but she could feel the hold he had over her now.

"Calm down. You don't remember me giving you my blood. You're thankful i saved you." Y/n instantly stopped squirming, nodding to Eric as her eyes dropped back to half asleep as he removed his hand, placing his arm behind her head as she curled into him.

"Thank you for saving me." Eric grinned as she spoke, he knew she had been thankful, it was the reason she'd indulged him so much but he wanted to hear it.

"You're welcome, now go back to sleep." Y/n nodded closing her eyes as she relaxed back against him again, his hand rubbing up and down her thigh as he looked at the skin where the cuts and bites had been, perfectly unscarred now, perfect for him to mark one day. She'd be his one day, she already was but one day she would tell him to claim her, he just needed to wait it out.

#eric northman x reader #eric northman #true blood #true blood eric northman x reader #True blood eric northman #Eric northman x human reader

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thebirdandthebee · 2 years

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OK, cause I'm thirsty today. Jealous Carmy! who has to cater an uncomfortably fancy event and F girlfriend is there wearing a hot dress and he has to keep watching all the rich dudes trying to hit on her until he can't take it and they end up sneaking outside and fucking (bonus points for Carmy eating her out). Thank you Chef!

College was a fun time for Carmen. No, he wasn't in college, but he was in culinary school and catering on the weekends to pay for said culinary school.

It was just fortunate timing that he'd be catering a party his girlfriend would be attending that night with some of her friends - their families all having donated big money to the university to earn an invite. It was a posh affair that she’d spent hours getting ready for. He’d personally zippered her up into a red silk number with a slit nearly to her hip.

He, however, was decked out in the caterer’s special - all white with a black bowie as he flitted about room holding trays of wasabi crab cakes and tartare tacos.

He was grateful for her girlfriends who were always kind to him when he’d sneak in and out of their college house. Tonight, however, he wished more of them were around, and less of the business-school, trust-fund babies that were flocking to her from all angles. He knew his girlfriend was stunning, that was a given. But he certainly didn’t appreciate everyone else knowing that as well.

He didn’t like how closely the suits were getting, and though he could swoop in once in a while, he was close to tossing his tray when he watched a tall, brunette with a dimpled chin touch her elbow gently as they both stood at the bar.

“I’ve got lobster puffs here,” he said, stepping up to the two.

“No, thanks,” the man replied, looking down on Carmen - both literally and figuratively.

“I love lobster,” his girlfriend grinned, happily taking one and popping it into her mouth. “Delicious,” she moaned - a noise that both men knew was better suited for between the sheets.

“Maybe I will try one...” the other man muttered, taking his own.

Three more times in the next half an hour Carmen could see his girlfriend otherwise occupied by men whose fathers had attorneys on standby. It made his skin prickle in a way that he hated. He slammed down an empty tray on the back counter of the kitchen, catching the attention of the other staff members.

“Try not to get too heated, huh?” He heard the familiar purr, feeling a hand slide down his arm. Turning, he saw her with a small smile on her face - she knew this wasn’t fun for him. “Anywhere... private we can go?” She asked, eyes flicking over to the service door that led to the back alley. He simply slid his hand in hers, shoving open the security bar and sending up a quick thank-you to the big guy above that an alarm didn’t sound.

A moment later, his mouth was on hers, tasting that familiar cherry flavor of the lipgloss she’d swiped on over her red lipstick.

“Hate that you have to work,” she pouted, hands delving in his hair.

“Hate the entitled pricks who think they can just put their hands on you,” he countered, hand sliding up her thigh, hooking her leg over his hip. “You’re mine,” he said, lips pressed against hers tightly.

“Prove it,” she grinned, tilting her head with her wide doe eyes. Carmen flipped her around - an arm across her stomach as he kept her from being pressed against the rough exterior of the building. “I took my panties off in the bathroom,” she said, pulling it from her cleavage, reaching back to shove them into his pocket.

“God I love you,” he laughed, her hands braced against the wall as he nudged her feet apart.

She heard his zipper drop and the anticipation made her face hot.

“Hurry Carmy, what if someone comes out here? The valet is just around the cor-” She paused as he slid into her with one fell swoop. “Fuck,” she whimpered, boosting his ego to high heaven. He grasped her breast over her dress, pressing his face into the mess of wild curls she’d pinned her hair into as he pumped in and out.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he grunted, warm breath huffing in her ear.

“I’m yours,” she gasped as his free hand wandered down to the slit of her dress, easily finding her clit.

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he said feeling her squeeze him haphazardly.

“You, Carmy!” She tossed her head back, kissing him desperately.

“None of those fuckers in there can give you what I give you,” he all but growled.

“Only you,” she agreed with a whimper.

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned, causing a ripple of goosebumps to travel down her arms.

“I wanna feel you inside of me,” she begged, sending him over the edge. The feeling of his hot orgasm spilling inside of her pushed her off her own blissful cliff. A few moments later, he was using her panties to clean up what he could.

“Don’t look at anyone else, huh?” He asked, kissing her lips in a short series of sweet pecks. “Keep your eyes closed and hide in the corner till I’m done,” he all but begged, a small smile on his lips.

“I only have eyes for you,” she grinned, kissing him soundly.

“Good.”

#Carmy #carmen smut #carmy smut #carmy berzatto #carmy fluff #carmen x oc #Carmen Berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x ofc #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fan fic #jeremy allen white is HOT

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taybatwo2 · 6 months

Text

Lenore Loomington Doll Review Part 2 of 2

Let’s finally take a look at her dress (the post before this one looked at her accessories and in box photos)! Ugh, that belt thing just keeps getting in the way of everything and will NOT sit well on her torso.

Lets remove the offending piece to actually look at her dress…

Much better (I was so afraid of breaking her clip, I had her hanging from her neck for many of my photos). I love that the cut of the dress is WAY different to any other Monster High dolls I’ve seen, and I like the idea (I assume) behind it: looking at silhouettes of plants and animals on a night sky.

Buuuuut I feel like it could have been elevated a bit more for such an expensive doll. Give us some glow in the dark/sparkly dots acting as stars going up her skirt, finish her sleeves and dress train with some lace, oh, or maybe sew some “vine like” ribbon/fabric hanging off of the train or sleeves. Oh! And I feel like her short black lacy piece is kinda a second thought, I’d have made it longer in the back or give it a more ragged cut (so it’s not so reminiscent of a tutu or petticoat). I say this all, because both the color and the cut was honestly better executed by:

The one you got vs the one you ordered. Yeahhh, it very closely resembles Moonlight B.B’s dress (shirt/skirt), but feels like a poor rip off due too MGA’s looking a lot more tailored (and use of multiple fabrics) and a more expensive clothing piece. more review and doll comparisons under the cut:

Aaaand here it is off the doll:

The dress is not hemmed around the bottom of the dress or sleeves, but I don’t see them fraying any time soon. I like how thin and flow-y the fabric is it makes it look a bit ethereal. And oh? But what’s this?? A secret secondary dress/slip??

What a cute little surprise. It’s fully hemmed, has a little lace on the bottom, and has a bit of a stretch to it. Also, Lenora’s arms are wrapped in plastic to prevent staining.

Here it is off the doll. Be forewarned, I low key struggled redressing her. That larger dress didn’t want to nicely slide back over her smaller dress.

Let’s finally take a look at Lenore’s face.

My Lenore’s eyes are printed up a bit too high and her lipstick is both smudged and incorrectly filled in in the top left side. 😬 At least a little bit of acrylic paint can fix her lips….

Her glitter tears are really pretty and seem pretty well attached and her “ghost mask” is a lovely addition to her face (it’s a nice gradient).

It took me awhile to notice she has cute little pink eyelashes mixed in with her black ones.

Her side profile and lightly pointed ears (by the way, the back of her head is marked as 2023). I do wish her eyebrows were a bit darker and looked like Rochelle’s worried ones (@mistyxxart’s, on instagram, drawing of Lenore is what I WISH her eyebrows looked like).

This artwork is fangtastic and has given me so many fun ideas on how I want to upgrade my Lenore.

Lenore is pretty well covered now; let’s look at how she compares to come other ghouls (I apologize for many of these photos being a bit blown out - the lighting in my kitchen is kinda sucky).

The OG Spectra!!! Two very different ghostie ghouls. Monster High’s oldest vs MH’s newest. Spectra has clear body parts, no ghost mask, and colored sclera. She also has kanekalon hair vs Lenore’s saran. I think they stand on their own as pretty different characters honestly.

Let’s let a few more come across the veil.

So many ghosts!!! Ari, Ari, what are you looking at?!? Sweetie. Stop longingly staring at Spectra.

Okay, so they actually don’t seem to have very much in common with Lenore either. Ari has a milky/shimmery body (much more akin to the Haunted releases of ghosts) and Lenore has a shimmery body without looking like she has milky skin. Her shimmer has more of a blue tinge than the yellow tinge that Ari’s has.

The Create a Monster Ghost (I always forget how hard they went on her outfit: skulls amassed behind a fence with a blood-dripping belt; I love it when MH sneaks in stuff like that), has the ghost eye mask (I don’t like hers as much as Lenore’s) and uncolored sclera like Lenore, but her pupils are black - like Ari’s. Both CAM ghost and Spectra have clear limbs.

There is something these ghouls all share in common:

Mother of PINK! The Monster World must have very limited shoe material that ghosts can wear and it’s all in similar shades of pink and magenta.

I wonder how she compares to the Haunted dolls…? POOF!

Ask and you shall receive! Technically River is a grim reaper and Kiyomi is the daughter of a noppera-bō, so not just comparing “ghost ghosts,”but why not throw them in here too?? Porter, Vandala and Kiyomi all have very milky skin, Lenore’s plastic is very opaque in comparison with that pearl/shimmer finish.

~shimmer shimmer~ Porter has colored sclera like Spectra and Vandala doesn’t have black pupils, like Lenore. I wonder if there is a reason for some ghosts to have colored/regular sclera and pupils. Maybe it’s a ghost genetic trait like attached ear lobes….

River was wondering what all the hubbub was about in comparing them to this new ghost. Well, until I told River how much Lenore cost compared to them. River couldn’t say much, but just proudly showed off her clear limbs: “I cost less than a third of that and I have clear limbs!” ….I wonder how she’ll react when I tell her the ghoul that received her original head sculpt idea cost double Lenore’s price.

And POOF!

What a lovely menagerie of MH ghosts (pretend like my Symphanee got here quick enough to also be in the photos).

Perfect! Can’t even tell….

Oh! And Vandala brought her girlfriend Sirena along so I could compare Sirena’s skin tone to Lenore’s. Her skin glitter is not as fine as Lenore’s and she has a yellow tint to her skin….I wonder if Ari’s and Sirena’s is due to age.

Hand splat in face.

Before I wrap up, let’s compare Lenore to some MH dolls that look like the main ingredients they blended up to create Lenore.

Your progenitors!!! (my G1 Twyla has been de-glued with LA’s Totally Awesome, but her bangs are discolored and are waiting to be retrobrighted this summer). Hmmm, a dash Twyla’s skin color, a major helping of Vandala’s face mold and monster type, and an inspirational sprinkle of Amanita’s outfit and pieces.

I can see the comparisons with G1 Twyla (more in person than in a photo). Lenore’s skin has a purple hue from the pearly finish. Also, Lenore’s hair streaks are more baby blue than the minty green of Twyla’s hair color. They both have pink eyes, and wear dark colored clothing.

Now, Lenors and Amanita, look like they could have been in the same line (when I actually have Lenore fully dressed). Amanita believes that she would have still been the only deluxe, store exclusive of the line. “Maybe you could have been like the Big Lots or CVS exclusive to Gloom and Bloom.” Amanita! That is uncalled for! “You’re right, how about a K-Mart exclusive because they’re as dead as she is.” Lenore thinks this is one plant she doesn’t want in her garden.

They both have long wavy hair, flower shoe clips (but Amanita’s is sculpted to be a lot more three dimensional and it’s painted).

Both have extra make-up around the eyes, a hair decoration/accessory, and a thin, slightly see through dress covering a surprise mini dress (I still feel like Amanita’s has more detail, but that pleather portion will rot off someday).

Yeah, she is more than welcome to pose. I think that Amanita might have pulled off the look a bit better…. :/

And a face comparison!

Similar, but Amanita’s/CAM Vampire Girl’s head sculpt is not the same.

Avast ye!! We might have a match! Vandala’s face does look closely the same (I should have taken out Vandala’s earring for all of these photos)…

Hmmm…..

Hmmmmmmm…..

HMMMM, Lenore’s ear looks a little bit more defined (when I don’t have the light GLARING right ONTO it).

Man, Vandala, I need to de-glue your head whenever I get more LA’s Totally Awesome in. You are a grease ball!

Well, Lenore might have used Vandala’s head sculpt base, but they went in and refined some parts…like her chin being a bit blunter, her nose and ears being a bit more defined, her lips might be a bit bigger (or they were just over painted).

Whelp anyways….Lenore…Lenore….I am glad I bought her, as she has some cute surprises, a lovely face, soft hair, but she’s very overpriced from the get-go and would have (in my opinion) not gotten such backlash had she been released to stores and Mattel creations as a 40-55 dollar G1 release and if she had not been SO HYPED UP!!

What are your thoughts? Would you buy her? What would you change?? Do you think Mattel has a huge wheel in their board room to spin and assign value to their dolls? Should I double check pictures to make sure they turned out alright before I put all my dolls away?? (Yes, yes I should).

#monster high #aleta’s toys #doll collecting #monster high doll #dollbr #monster high dolls #doll collector #lenore loomington #monster high skullector #monster high g1 #doll review

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azure-firecracker · 7 months

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ATLA Live Action Stream of Consciousness (Episode 7, Part 1).

Did Ozai try to try Zuko in the original? Did I just forget that? EDITING PHOEBE: It was Zhao but yes that did happen I just have a shit memory.

Does Zhao have enough pull for that?

They definitely didn’t know that he was the Blue Spirit (in the OG)

Nice moment between Zuko and the lieutenant though.

Yeah this is new but I like it. Makes Zhao scarier (editing me: No it’s not)

Aang: Zuko seemed so… Me: Sad.

Okay Northern water tribe is like the only thing that looked significantly better animated. The CGI detail usually looks good but here it drains some of the color (especially the purple)

Arnook…lowkey can’t act.

Why did they do that to Yue’s hair lmao? I have a specific reference I’m thinking of that I’ll link here. (There’s multiple photos in this article. It’s the one with the big hair).

Zhao is a better liar than I remember. But like if he’s this competent now will that diminish Azula’s effect if they get a book 2? Part of why she worked so well was that Zhao was not the best villain.

On the “below average” stuff with Azula: I think it works for this iteration of the character but it’s not in keeping with the original. I wish they’d kept it closer to the original since it’s important to show different kinds of abuse, and I think OG Ozai would only say those things to Azula behind closed doors, but I think it works in isolation.

LIZZY YU IS ACTING HER ASS OFF.

“That I’m the one” who what? Interesting writing choice there. They feel the need to overexplain everything else but they can’t finish this line.

Sokka’s humor is coming through.

Aaw this is a cute Aang and Katara moment.

I liked Pakku as a straight up sexist asshole in the original but I’m not sure that that would have translated so well so I’m glad they gave him some half decent moments.

IS YUE DOING MAGIC?

Aaw Yue’s getting some more cute moments that’s sweet. I love original Yue but I like her candid, grounded moments here. She feels more fleshed out. She and Sokka are cute too.

I like Sokka’s arc but give Katara some of that characterization.

Wait was Yue the fox spirit? Why did they make that choice? How does it serve the narrative?

Hahn doesn’t suck now! Not sure how I feel about that since Yue’s tragedy was not about who she was marrying in the first place, rather about the fact that she had to get married.

“My friends helped me” Aang tbf it was mostly you.

I like that we’re getting some more exploration into healing.

Are they finally gonna let Katara be angry? PLEASE do!

My dad asked why Sokka is wearing so much lipstick.

OH Yue broke off her engagement that’s NEW. Where are they gonna go with this?

Kuruk development that’s cool!

Gordon who tf wrote your dialogue in this scene (and how many times have I written that question in some form or another?)

Why are we into LOK spirit world stuff? This remake can’t handle the material it has.

Can we have one character without an angsty backstory please?

They need to stop harping in this “the hero needs to do everything alone” idea it’s overdone.

They should have given Yue white eyebrows.

This is new and I don’t mind it (with Yue)-confirms my theory that she was supposed to be the avatar.

See Sokka does have a good heart but you can’t make that the center of his character it’s also the center of everyone else’s character. Why does the whole main trio seem the same?

I hate this Aang/Kuruk scene it’s so generic.

More on the way (Y’all KNOW I have thoughts on part 2).

#atla #natla #atla live action #netflix atla #avatar the last airbender #atla stream of consciousness #ozai #zhao #zuko #aang #yue #azula #sokka #katara #master pakku #kuruk

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nightmaretist · 8 months

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TIMING: Mid-December PARTIES: Zofia @zofiawithaz & Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: Dance Macabre/the streets around said bar SUMMARY: Inge finds Zofia in the undead nightclub by accident and addresses her — the two string up a conversation and find common ground. CONTENT WARNINGS: None.

Dance Macabre always enveloped her with welcome arms, it seemed. Inge didn’t really wish to go out in any place else in this godforsaken town, as she kept finding herself looking over her shoulder. Here, though, her kind gathered and here, she was certain she could find some kind of sanctuary. Nothing perfect, nothing that didn’t make her wonder if perhaps she should be looking out for that Cortez, that Rhett, that Owen.

She was in a good mood, all things considered. The alcohol helped. As did the relative absence of Christmas decorations in this place. But she was still alert, at least somewhat, and when she passed by a woman introducing herself to another as Zofia she halted, turning on her heel. Inge took her in, this dark-haired beauty and went over all she knew.

A woman scorned, a woman maimed, a woman seemingly maddened — these were all grounds for her hard-to-gain sympathy. But then she had undone Cassius, hadn’t she? And so, her empathy ended before it could even properly begin. She mixed herself into the conversation with little hesitation, not having struggled with taking up space in at least a few decades. “So you’re the elusive Zofia,” she said, extending a hand when she’d like to raise it to smack the other like she’d smacked Cassius. “Ingeborg.” She was sure to squeeze tight and smile sweet. “Heard a lot about you.”

___

Zofia needed a fucking drink.

She’d finally obtained some clothing that didn’t look as though it had taken a trip to hell and back and was also her own taste. She’d traded in the jeans and t shirt she’d been given by Alistair for some new finery the moment she’d had the means to do so. Donned in sheer black lace cut in a deep v down her chest, maroon pants, and red lipstick, she felt more herself than she had in an eternity.

Sat at the bar, she kicked one leg over the other as she surveyed the space. No familiar faces. For the best, probably. She wasn��t sure she could deal with complicated reunions and questions of where she’d been. Or worse, running into those she’d already seen since she’d been back.

She flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, downing the last of her drink. She felt a tap on her shoulder and a face she didn’t recognize asked if she was someone named ‘Jessica’. Did she look like a Jessica? “No. I’m Zofia. Sorry.” The stranger went on their way, and Zofia went back to her drink.

Her name carried over the music from a voice she hadn’t heard before, and Zofia felt as though she’d been doused in ice water. She went still as a statue, fighting every urge to hastily dispatch whoever it was and get the fuck out of there. But that would cause a scene, and scenes were bad for people trying not to be hunted again. That and something about promising to try and better herself and then lashing out sat wrong with her. A fake smile gritted across her face, appearing more like the bared teeth of a wild animal.

She turned, taking in the other woman, trying to assess if she was a threat or not. “I’m at a disadvantage, Ingeborg.” She took the woman’s hand, giving it a shake. “You seem to know me, but I don’t know you.” Her eyes narrowed. “So who sent you?”

_____

Was she a bad friend, for being intrigued by this elusive creature? Sofie, the person she’d only ever known as Cassius’ disappeared lover as he’d never introduced them. Zofia, the person who had left him crumbled upon her return. Were there other versions of her out there, just like she carried her past versions with her? Nika Beinhacker, Ingeborg Beenhakker-de Jong, Ivonne Coëme and now Inge Endeman, all different editions of the same person. Who was this Zofia and perhaps more pressingly, why was she?

And she did resent her, this vampire who had hurt someone she cared for. But another part was intrigued, the way she often was. In a way that went against better judgment, in a way that made her cross whatever boundaries she may have set for herself. Inge had never been a person of very strong principles. She followed her heart, and if not, she followed her desire for whimsy, inspiration and distraction. She wasn’t sure win what category the vampire fell, yet.

The other didn’t seem quite as charmed by her, as it turned out, and Inge was intrigued by this. She was quick to take the seat next to the vampire, settling easily as she crossed her legs and considered her drink options. That could come later, though.

“Oh, no, no. No one send me. I am not someone who is sent.” She gave a knowing smile, which hardly revealed anything. Perhaps she should try harder at not seeming like a hunter type, but the notion of her being anything like a hunter was so offensive to her that she hardly considered it. She turned her attention to the barkeep, ordering another round of, “Whatever she’s having, for the both of us.”

Then, back to Zofia. Sophie. Sofieke. Whoever. “We have a mutual …” Inge thought for a moment, then shrugged, deciding against a label, “Cassius. I heard you went through quite an ordeal, but …” Tsk, her lips clicked together. “Have been causing a stir yourself. That’s all. I figured we should meet and hey, here you are.”

————-

She was pretty. About the same height as her, with big brown eyes and auburn hair. Zofia’s eyes flickered from feature to feature, looking for any clues as to what she was, and what she was up to. She had come to Dance Macabre, so there was a good chance the woman no longer had a pulse. Or she was a hunter who was running the risk of being caught for the sake of staking out a target. Literally.

The stranger ordered another round, and a few moments later two dry vodka martinis with lemon twists floating on top were set before them. Good. The drink would make whatever this was about to be more tolerable.

At the sound of an all too familiar name, Zofia took a lengthy sip of her drink. “I imagine whatever you heard of my ordeal is lacking in details.” Another lengthy sip as she started thinking of an exit strategy. There had to be other places to drink in this town where she wasn’t likely to get a stake in her chest. Or that didn’t have friends of Cassius lurking to confront her for her actions at their little reunion.

Perhaps, on second thought, being staked would be preferable.

“So you are a friend of his?” She asked. It wouldn’t surprise her. Cassius, after all, was a good person. A kind person. A person who frequented all the same spots as her- how the hell was she going to find new places to go when only a handful of places were designed for undead clientele?!

__________

She gave a hum of approval at the drinks that appeared, taking her glass and taking a small sip. The vampire had good taste, that at least could be said. Inge could appreciate that. As for who she was and what she’d gone through and done subsequently — well, she hadn’t quite made up her mind. For all the love she had for Cassius, she did sometimes think his judgment to be rather poorly. (Which in Zofia’s case could be a blessing or a curse.)

Not that Zofia’s judgment seemed all that sound. Leaving bodies around for a past lover was admirable on a dramatic level, but otherwise a rather outrageous action. “Well, they do say every story has many sides. I’ve heard his.” Inge shrugged. “I am not opposed to hearing yours.”

And that was true. She had been in a position like this before, hadn’t she? Escaped from hunters, her mind frazzled and not quite her own. Looking over her shoulder. She was a solitary creature, one of little loyalties, but she did feel a kinship with her fellow undead — most especially when they had fallen into the claws of some cruel slayers. “What I do know is that hunters can do a number on you. Irregardless of whatever else.”

Inge nodded, circling the rim of her glass. “Yes. But like I said, he didn’t send me. It’s — well, pure coincidence.” She smiled, as if it was a lucky and happy accident. She considered rubbing in the other’s face that Cassius was properly heartbroken, but swallowed the words.

———

The music changed in the club to something with a consistent pulsing beat. It made Zofia’s skin crawl. She lifted the glass in a half-salute before downing another sip, trying to chase the thoughts away.

Her eyebrow raised over the lip of her martini glass as the other woman offered to listen to her story. “Are you asking out of morbid curiosity?” The music thumped on. Her eyes closed, her face screwing up in concentration as she tried to shove away the matching plink plink plink of leaky pipes in her mind. The tempo changed and the thoughts subsided.

A sad smile settled on her face. So that was it. She sat back in her seat, her hackles no longer completely raised. “They certainly can.” She sighed. “Tell me, how old are you?” Zofia cocked her head to the side. How much had she experienced? How much running, how much fear? How much living had she done?

She hummed, unamused. It figured that the universe would have a warped sense of humor. Depositing friends of his directly into her path. “It’s a small world, after all.” Zofia glanced around the space, trying to determine who else might be a friend of Cassius’s, intent on coming over and reminding her of what she’d done just by announcing his name. “Care to take this conversation outside? It’s quieter.” And less of a chance of being overheard. And there were more routes for a quick escape.

———

Many things Inge did were out of morbid curiosity. She’d watched a zombie maul a man because of it, just as she’d entered Parker’s workshop because something within her needed to be satiated. But this wasn’t really one of these cases — whatever Zofia had done and gone through wasn’t bound to stir her to her core like a hunter’s place for torture, after all.

Maybe it was simple solidarity. She did think that important among her fellow undead and besides, she could not help but draw a parallel between what she’d heard about Zofia and what she herself had gone through. “No. Curiosity, yes. Morbid, no.”

Some relief seemed to spread through the other which was a welcome sight. Inge didn’t mind people being distrustful of her, but she disliked it a little when it came to people like Zofia. Undead. “Almost eighty,” she said, knowing it could be relatively young by certain standards. “What about you?”

She nodded. “Exactly.” Never mind that Zofia had returned to Wicked’s Rest, rather than flee to another town — which is what Inge would have done, in her shoes. Always running, barely ever returning in case of what if. She considered the other’s proposition. “What do you suggest? An alley, in stead?” That wasn’t particularly safe, either. “A quieter place would do, though. We could go for a walk?”

________

Zofia could respect curiosity. A little. She thought. But what good had sharing the little details of her life done for her in the past? Gotten her friends? Maybe so. But where had those friends been when she’d needed them? She took another long sip of her drink.

Almost eighty. The ‘almost’ drew a smile from the vampire. It reminded her of when little children insisted they were almost the age they’d be in eleven months, which meant they were practically a grown up. Of course, almost eighty was long past childhood. Long enough to experience, long enough to grieve, to love, to mourn, to hurt… But still young. It was closer to childhood than Zofia had been in a long, long time. “Three hundred fourteen. Three hundred fifteen in the new year.”

Taking one last sip of her drink, she set some money down on the bar before sliding off her chair. “A walk sounds good.” Moving was good. Moving meant if she was being followed she would notice sooner rather than later. She slipped her coat on, wrapping herself in the burgundy wool, even if the cold night air wouldn’t really bother her. She extended her arm for the other old woman to link her arm through before heading out the door. “I’m sure you have questions.” She sighed, glancing back at the other woman. “Will you ask them now, or shall I start at the beginning?”

_______

Oh, she was old. Properly old. Inge felt a tinge of inferiority spread through, almost wished she had lied about her age — seventy seven was still just a human age, one that people lived to with some back pain and complaint but generally little issue. But being over three centuries old, now that was an accomplishment.

But she swallowed her insecurity and gave a look that did reveal her being impressed, “Good job on sticking around for so long.” Not everyone managed, did they? She’d known undead like them to lose their minds in their immortality. Though that might be a kinder fate than having your head chopped off. She thought of Sanne, how there had been a small moment of her head falling before she’d turned into dust.

She threw down some money as well, still wanting to pay for the round she’d ordered on proud principle and wrapped her own body in her leather trenchcoat. She’d gotten it in the nineties. Inge stared at the arm offered to her, bemused and surprised by this move, and took it. If it was a challenge, she’d meet it. If it wasn’t, then she wasn’t sure what it was. Once the night air greeted them, it seemed the conversation was bound to properly start. “I’d rather you tell it however you want. I know speaking of such matters isn’t always the most … easy.” She certainly did not talk of the ways hunters haunted her, still. “Speak, if you’re fine with that. If you’d rather have questions, sure. Start with what happened.”

________

Zofia snorted. “It goes by in a blink.” She’d heard it said so many times over the years, from people with white hair that spilled around faces with lines and wrinkles. People with eyes that spoke of a wealth of human joys and sorrows. She wondered what her eyes spoke of. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know anymore.

Ingeborg linked her arm in Zofia’s, and the vampire led on. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, she sang over and over in her thoughts. She didn’t know if she had friends any longer. It was safer to keep everyone so very very close. The closest of enemies, so that she could see the cogs tick in their minds, so she could figure out the trap before it snapped shut with her inside.

She sucked the cold night air in, embracing the chill. “It’s a story that started some time ago.” Zofia said simply. “You would have been a young thing. Maybe in your twenties. I had a family. A family that I chose, and for hundreds of years a family that continued to choose me. And god, did we live.” A wistful smile stole at her features, only to be swept away as the story continued. “Someone plucked them all away from me. Dead. Missing. Who’s to say, really. I never saw them again, and I gave up hope that they’d ever turn up a long time ago.”

“And then I started to rebuild. Let myself enjoy life again. Enjoy love. And…” She cut herself off, her eyes darting toward an alley at the sound of a crunch. She watched, waiting for the trap to spring to life. A rat skittered out of a dumpster with some papers in its little mouth, squeaking as it scampered away with its prize. She continued walking.

“It was dark there. You’d think I wouldn’t mind the dark, since I can’t enjoy the sun anymore. You’d think it would have been a wonderful little respite. But it’s never been fully dark out here. I’ve always had the stars… the moon…” Zofia looked up at the distant, twinkling lights. A reminder that she had found a way out. “A dark, small room. A bunker, really. In the ground, deep down, below some old cabin in the woods. Probably long since forgotten by everyone in this damned town, except for the monsters who hunt things like us.”

“They were looking for information.” She continued, not wanting to live in the details for any longer than what was necessary. “They used all the tricks of their trade. All the things they knew could hurt, to try and figure out where the members of my clan, my family, had hidden themselves away. I was the easiest to find. The easiest to catch. The weakest remaining link. And they tried so very hard to break me.” Her voice wobbled. She stopped talking for a few minutes, refusing to cry in front of a stranger, especially one who’s knowledge of Zofia consisted of information gained from a love story that had ended spectacularly badly. “They succeeded. Just not in the way they were hoping.”

She couldn’t always see them. Couldn’t always hear them. But she knew they followed. The ghosts that had visited her. Haunted her. Watched her, unable or unwilling to help. She could see them now. Lurking just at the corner of her vision. Still not helping. Still not quite comforting. Simply watching. Waiting. Zofia fixed her gaze on the woman who’s presence she’d proven to herself was real when she’d taken her arm. “What questions do you have.”

__________

“So they say,” Inge said. And she supposed on one hand life had flown by. How many years had it been since her daughter had died? Since Sanne? Since she had died? It all still felt like something that had happened not much longer than a few weeks ago while simultaneously feeling like a lifetime ago. Decades stretched, decades melted together. Time was an incomprehensible thing, both in dreams and in real life.

As the other started speaking she moved with her in tandem. She had always envied the vampires and their clans, those houses and families that stayed together forever. She’d had Sanne once, her former nightmare and for a while current dream — but it hadn’t been the same. She was glad for her nature, did not envy those that had to drink blood to survive (boring, compared to the nightmares) but mares were often so solitary. Even if named after animals that moved in packs.

But what good where these micro-societies when hunters could rip them apart? It meant there was more to lose, more to leverage against you. Inge did not envy Zofia any more in that regard. The losses she’d suffered had ruined her enough, she figured.

She let her talk, resisting the urge to interject or let out an expletive, but her expression was one of empathy. Slayers were a cruel kind. Never able to simply kill, it seemed. Taking advantage of the undying bodies of their prey that could be maimed endlessly. She needn’t ask what had happened. She remembered Italy. She remembered Switzerland. She remembered Wicked’s Rest.

The story wrapped with a request for questions, as if Zofia was one of her students presenting a piece of art. Inge looked at her inquisitively. Her eyes were red. She should don her sunglasses. “First off, I am sorry that some people felt entitled to ruining your family. That they thought — that there was some righteousness there, that it was their right to. They’ve taken from me too.” Sanne’s head toppled from her neck and turned into dust before it could hit the ground. She blinked up at the stars. “And I am sorry they did this to you. It is an ugly delusion, that they think they can. That they think —” She shook her head. “It makes them better than us. I’ve always figured it makes them worse.” At least vampires healed fast, she figured. At least there was that blessing. In this area she envied her blood-drinking kin, too.

“Did they survive you, in the end?” That was most important. “Are they after you, still?” That mattered to her personally, too. More slayers was never a good thing, especially not in this damned town. “And … what is it you’re after?”

__________

Zofia knew what pity felt like. It was cloying and smothering and altogether intolerable. This wasn’t pity. This was understanding. She didn’t cringe away from the red eyes as they studied her. Whatever Ingeborg had been through in her life, it was enough to compare to the last half century of her own life. Steely eyes shifted to a red that matched Inge’s, and Zofia met the younger woman’s gaze.

“I’m sorry for whatever cruelties you’ve endured at their hands.” She wasn’t used to this understanding. It wasn’t uncomfortable, thankfully. It was bolstering. It made her feel as though she could reforge the broken bits of her with damascus steel, remake herself into something that would not be torn asunder again. They both could.

“Only one was there when I got out.” A dark smile drew up the corners of her mouth as a memory of lullabies and the metallic scent of fresh blood drifted through her mind. “I wish I could say he got what he deserved, but I didn’t have time for that. He’s burning in hell, all the same.”

The smile fell as another face drifted through her mind. “The one in charge wasn’t home. He’s still out there. And the other one probably had friends.” Zofia took a moment, mulling over the final question. “Everything they took from me. Security. Family. Peace. And I won’t have any of those things until I see the life fade from their eyes. Is that too much to ask for?”

———

She supposed that was an acceptable way of putting it. Having endured cruelties at their hands. Inge refused the title of victim. It was not one she would don, not for Hendrik, nor Sanne and certainly not a handful of hunters. But she had endured cruelties at all their hands. Endured, being the key word, cruelty being the condemnation of the other party. To have gone through it made them stronger. To have doled it out made the perpetrators worse than them. (Still – she didn’t quite think her ex-husband or creator perpetrators. She preferred not to think of them at all.)

“It’s okay,” she said resolutely. “I will outlive them all, in the end. And so will you.” Those slayers, with their petty lifespans and their even pettier lives … most of them didn’t make it that far in life. “Let every scar we bear remind us of what we’ve managed to survive, hm?” This unlife was to be a celebration.

Zofia had killed one of her tormentors. That was good, Inge thought. A closure of sorts. She wondered if the vampire was vengeful enough to after the rest of them. “Good. Let him burn there forever.” She wondered for a moment how the other murdered. Was it all vampiric fangs and bloodshed? She carried herself with grace now, but perhaps she was more brutal out there.

She halted, looking at the vampire. “I understand.” Did she? She ran from her tormentors. She ran from town to town, finding no security, no peace, no family. But art — there was always new art. “It is an understandable approach. They deserve nothing less.” Inge wasn’t going to offer her assistance. She barely went after the slayers she encountered. Worse, she’d recently bought one a drink and fucked another. “You deserve nothing less.”

But. There was a but. She let it dangle in the air for a moment before grabbing it. “But, Cassius. Can you leave him be? I know — well, I don’t, not fully. But whatever transpired, it must ache.” Sanne’s head toppled from her neck. A lost lover could make one quite lost. “I suggest you do if you want those things in this town. Security. Peace.” Inge shrugged. “Perhaps even family.”

———

“That we will.” She certainly planned to outlive hers. It would be easy, since she didn’t plan to rest much until they were incapable of doing harm to her or anyone else again. Though Zofia supposed it would be easier when the scars weren’t still open wounds on her soul. It would be easier when every noise and shadow wasn’t another threat. If that day ever came.

A dark smile danced across her features for a moment. It was a memory that gave her comfort. One gone. She managed to avenge the lives of those she’d lost and herself, even just a little.

She paused in their walk, the humor that had momentarily flickered in her eyes all but snuffed out at the reminder of who she was there on behalf of. Even if she hadn’t been sent by him, he’d no doubt hear of this exchange in passing. “That won’t be an issue,” Zofia’s affect was cool and detached. “He has another, now.” Now. As if so much time had passed. The vampire felt herself bristle. Replaceable. Was that what she was? A piece that could be swapped out and exchanged easily with another?

“Perhaps,” she echoed, the anger that had bubbled up fading at the mention of the one thing she still, somehow wanted. Family. “I’ll rebuild, I’m sure.”

_______

There was a switch, like all the heat was sucked out of the air. Inge wasn’t surprised. She looked at Zofia calmly, vaguely understanding of the anger of a scorned woman but also, most of all, protective of Cassius. It was a strange balance to try and uphold. To care for him while also understanding her.

Because there was a string of past lovers, faces that had come after Sanne. She had broken some – if not most – of their hearts, but some of them had left her own metaphorical one cracked. There was still, even after all these years and all her experience, something deeply intimate and vulnerable about the exposure of sex, the constant return for it. She was still emotionally driven, more than by lust. She’d haunted a man who’d broken her heart, once. She got it.

But she wouldn’t tolerate it. Not in herself, let alone in Zofia.

“Indeed.” And it was cruel of him, wasn’t it? To have moved on. It was, in a way. But matters of the heart often were. She got that, too. “And I am sorry, for that. It’s no easy thing. But there’s no use in … eyes for eyes, and the like.”

Inge hesitated for a moment, then linked her arm back with Zofia’s. “You seem like you know what you want. So you shall get it. And there’s plenty interesting people in this town, surely you know that.” Cassius was one of them — but there was a whole world beside him. “If there’s one thing our kind has, it’s time.”

———

“Well there is a use for it,” the vampire sighed, shaking her head. “But not in this case. Not with him. I can spend that currency elsewhere. With people who actually deserve what is coming to them.” Zofia would rather spend her resources securing her safety and exacting her revenge on the hunters that had taken everything from her than wasting it on someone who, at the end of the day, did not deserve it.

She let out a soft huff. “I’m very old. I have only so much time before some switch in me flips and whatever humanity I cling to burns out like a lightbulb. If there’s even much of it left, now. This town may be full of interesting people, but I’m not sure time has much left in that particular deck of cards for me.” Still, there was no point in writing it off entirely. She could still enjoy herself, if she could allow anyone close enough to her to enjoy.

“You have my word. I’ve no intention of hurting your friend. I have better things to occupy my time with, and no interest in spending it hurting myself further.”

———

Inge had killed a slayer before. Humans died so easily compared to the likes of her. Lacerations of her skin hurt, but she would never bleed out, her skin would always regrow — but humans bled. Humans didn’t need their heads cut off or their bodies starved from sustenance for over a week. But when she’d taken a slayer’s life it hadn’t been calculated revenge. It had just been a move of self defense and desperation. She tended to run, after all, as that was the easiest option for her. Flee into the astral and look down on the world and its dangers. Except for that time. That time she’d drawn her gun and loosened all six bullets and disappeared.

Had it felt good? Sure. There had been a satisfaction. But it hadn’t lasted. Not because she felt guilty, but because in that case death wasn’t the end. She was still looking over her shoulders, there were still hunters out there. It had been futile. It was not something to just throw on the table, though, this insight in that fear of hers she was still convinced didn’t exist. “Good. Focus it on them, then.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. Maybe the issue is that you’re still thinking in terms of humanity when we’re not human any more and haven’t been in some time,” Inge said. “But you can find your people again. That we do need, hm?” Even she had her tethers. Even if she snipped them from time to time, when she ran.

She nodded, appreciative. “Perfect,” she almost smiled while saying it. Unsaid went the pain she’d already delivered to Cassius, but Inge wasn’t the type to think much of a slap to the face anyway. “Perhaps we can spend some of that time together, hm? I’d like to hear about all the things you’ve seen and done in your years.”

______

A smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. “Perhaps,” the woman drawled. It was a difficult thing to let go of, humanity. She’d been playing pretend for centuries. Drinking blood from glasses as if it were simply another expensive vintage from the DuPont wine cellar. Zofia had known better, had always known better. It might do better to let herself be something more. Something new. Something not quite human, but not quite monster. And perhaps it was time to find more like minded people.

“ I think,” The flicker of a smile caught on her lips and lingered. “I think I’d like that very much.”

#threads.#zofia.#friend of a friend.

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crazyunsexycool · 2 years

Note

Could we get a drabble of Dot asking Bucky about reader? I'd like to see his reaction 👀

So instead of Dot just asking him about reader I decided to do something a bit different. But still you’ll see Bucky’s reaction to Dot mentioning reader’s name for the first time. At the moment all Dot knows about reader is what George told her. (Last drabble)

The contract had been signed and as much as Bucky wanted to keep his distance from Dot, she had managed to have Bucky take her out on a date. It was just dinner and he hoped it would go by quickly since he had more important things to worry about. The section of the restaurant was secluded which Bucky appreciated, at least he wouldn’t have to fake affection towards the stranger that sat to his left.

There had been multiple times during the ride from Dot’s apartment to the restaurant where she tried to start a conversation but he had shut her down. Here however he knew his father had eyes and ears everywhere.

“Have you been here before?”

“Yes.”

“What would you recommend? Everything looks good.”

“I’ll have the waiter recommend something.” He hated having to do this. He didn’t even consider it a date it was more like a business meeting.

“Listen James,”

“Bucky.”

“What?” Dot looked at him confused.

“No one calls me James except for my Ma.”

And Y/N. But Dot didn’t need to know that.

“Ok, Bucky. I just want to get to know you better. We’re meant to be together for the rest of our lives, would it be so bad if we got along?”

He finally took his eyes away from the menu to look at her. Her blonde hair was curled and framing her face. The lighting made her blue eyes shine brightly. The shade of her lipstick was just pink enough to be inviting and she wore a dress that showed just enough cleavage to pique anyone’s interest. Sadly none of that mattered to Bucky because she wasn’t you. So he sighed as he looked back down at the menu.

“You need to understand that this is a business deal. There are no feelings here and there never will be. The sooner you come to terms with that the easier this will be for both of us.” Bucky took the scotch that had been given to him upon sitting down and drank it in one gulp.

“Bucky,” Dot placed her hand on Bucky’s before pulling back. A mixed look of disgust and fear washed over her face as she realized she had grabbed his left hand. “Listen I can understand if you don’t do relationships or your last one ended poorly but I want you to know that I want us to work.”

“Trust me, we won’t.”

Dot pouted slightly and went back to the menu. Bucky breathed a sigh of relief thinking that it would be the end of that conversation at least for now but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Y/N really did mess you up.” She mumbled under her breath, thinking he wouldn’t have heard.

Bucky’s eyes moved back to Dot slowly. He glared at her, wished that his look alone could kill.

“What did you just say?”

Dot’s eyes snapped up to Bucky’s. This time there was shock and fear in them.

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

“Y/N really did mess you up.”

“Where did you hear that name?”

“A-at your parent’s house.”

“I’m going to tell you this one time. You don’t talk about Y/N, you don’t even mention that name. You don’t know anything about her. She didn’t mess me up, she means everything to me. Got it?” He sneers.

Dot nodded.

“Good.”

The waiter walks up to the table, unaware of any type of issue.

“Are you ready to order Mr. Barnes?”

“We’re leaving. This should cover the bill and your tip.” Bucky had pulled his wallet out and dropped a few bills on the table. He stood and started walking out of the restaurant, leaving Dot to trail behind him.

The car ride back was tense. Bucky’s grip on the wheel was enough to turn his knuckles white, while Dot kept her eyes on the road. Her arms crossed over her chest at the thought of her ruined night. Once Bucky pulled up to her apartment building he parked and turn to look at her.

“You shouldn’t get your hopes up for this arrangement. This will never be anything but a business deal to me.”

Dot huffed and got out of the car. Bucky didn’t even wait until she walked inside before he drove away.

#is it a crime? ask #is it a crime? drabble #val answers #you’ve got mail 💌

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shadowsxgwynriel · 2 years

Text

At Her Mercy

Day 7: Free Day @sjmromanceweek

Emerie and Mor decide to take their friendship to the next level.

Ship: Emerie and Mor 💋

Word Count: 4,444

Warning: Smut

Read on AO3

“Do you wanna fool around?”

Emerie nearly choked on the vodka shot she just swallowed. She turned to look at Mor. “What?”

Mor gave her a drunken smile. “I said do you wanna fool around?“

Emerie laughed and shook her head. “You’re so fucking drunk.”

The two of them were at one of the last summer parties before the new semester. It was officially their senior year, so almost everyone was at the party. Well, expect for her two roommates. Gwyn didn’t do social gatherings and never attended parties, and Nesta just didn’t like people in general. And their friend Elain, Nesta’s sister, was probably somewhere with her boyfriend, Lucien.

Luckily, Mor loved to attend parties just like Emerie. In fact, that was how they became friends during their freshman year.

“I’m not drunk!” Mor insisted. She might have been more believable if her neck had better balance.

“Whatever you say,” Emerie joked. “And what happened to that guy you were seeing?”

Mor made a face. “The sex was mediocre.”

“I thought you really liked him?”

She shook her head. “I liked his dog. He was just okay.”

Emerie had to laugh at that.

“So?”

“So what?” Emerie asked.

Mor sighed. “Do you want to go back to my place and fool around?”

Her pulse started racing. Mor was a very beautiful woman, practically a living goddess. But she was also a good friend. One that Emerie didn’t want to lose.

“Are you messing with me?” Emerie asked with an awkward laugh.

Mor shook her head. “Nooo. I’m very serious right now . . . and very horny.”

Emerie blinked, not sure how to respond to that.

“I love this song!” Mor suddenly cheered. She jumped up and ran to go dance.

She couldn’t help but watch Mor’s sensual dance moves. Emerie felt her cheeks heat at the way Mor rolled her hips to the beat. She grabbed a beer from a nearby cooler, and took a long drink.

“Come dance with me!” Mor shouted, beckoning her forward.

It was going to be a long night.

~~~

Emerie propped Mor against the wall. “Where are your keys?” she asked her. Mor really needed to clean out her purse, because it was impossible to find anything besides old receipts and about a hundred lipsticks.

“Pretty sure I put them in my purse.”

Great. That was very helpful.

Finally, after rummaging around for more than five minutes, she found the apartment key. Emerie unlocked the door and ushered her inside, which wasn’t easy given that Mor was very drunk, uncoordinated, and wearing heels. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

They walked to the bedroom and Mor collapsed onto the bed. She smiled at her. “Come sit down,” she said, patting the spot beside her.

Emerie joined her on the bed. Mor sat up and undid her ponytail, the blonde locks cascading over her shoulders. She really was the most beautiful woman Emerie had ever seen.

“I wish that I could push pause sometimes,” Mor said suddenly.

Emerie looked at her.

Mor sighed. “Controlling parents can be a bitch, you know?”

She didn’t, not really. Sure, her dad was a piece of shit, but she hadn’t seen him in over ten years. Her mom, however, was the best. They had a close bond, and Emerie was thankful to have her.

Still, Emerie had seen firsthand how Nesta and Elain’s mother could be, so she had an idea of Mor’s plight.

“Why don’t you just tell them to fuck off?” Emerie asked. “It’s your life.”

Mor snorted. “Yes, I’m sure my father would just love that.” She fell silent. Emerie thought maybe she had fallen asleep, until she spoke again. “He wants me to marry the son of one of his investors.”

“Why?”

“So that way they can’t cut ties with him. He thinks if they’re my in-laws then his business will be safe. Even better if I pop out a few grandchildren.”

Emerie didn’t know what to say.

“Damn,” Mor whined. “I ruined the mood!”

Suddenly, she smooshed Emerie’s cheeks in her hands. Emerie knew she probably looked ridiculous with her face squished and lips puckering out like a fish. “What are you doing?” she asked in a mumble.

“Seducing you,” Mor said. Then she kissed her.

Well, kiss was putting it kindly. It was more like she pressed her lips to hers for five seconds, then collapsed back onto the bed.

Emerie blinked, looking down at Mor. She was fast asleep, snoring softly.

In a bit of a daze, she removed Mor’s heels and tucked her in. Mor mumbled something, but didn’t wake up as she tiptoed from the room.

She locked the front door behind her. She’d give Mor her keys in the morning.

Emerie paused, remembering the brief feel of Mor’s luscious lips on hers. She blushed. Hopefully, Mor didn’t remember that awkward kiss.

Or maybe she could just ask Gwyn to drop them off . . .

The rest of the story is available here 🥰

#emerie #mor acotar #emerie of illyria #emorie #emorie smut #emorie fanfiction #sjmromanceweek2023 #emerie x mor #emerie acotar

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hvnterzmoon · 1 year

Text

UNSPOKEN

Mushy May prompt day 17: unspoken “I love you”

Alphomega (alpha x Omega) (terzo sprinkled in)

Warnings: slight mention of violence and gore, no detailed descriptions

Read it on AO3

Alpha knew. He was well aware, but some days were harder. Harder to really believe it. The onslaught of words everyone sneered at him behind his back. Arrogant, controlling, manipulative, outright just a dick… in certain ways yes, he could settle with those aspects of himself. But to hear others, the other ghouls in the ministry even, snarking behind his back about it as though they weren’t also ghouls… it weighed heavier on certain days.

Sometimes he hated the emotions such a human body left him with. He would wish he could unglamour, snarl and tear into flesh just to prove a point that yeah… yeah he was a dick. A manipulative, controlling arrogant fucker that could and would easily kill someone when he needed, but he couldn’t. He had a pack, one he loved, one he cherished, and he would never force himself away from them so blindly.

So instead he listened, listened and let it look as though it bounced off him, like morning dew rolling off bright green leaves.

Some days it was harder to do that though. Today was one of those days. His shoulders felt heavy trudging into the kitchen. He’d missed breakfast, the bed empty where Omega and Terzo had been previously, which was not unusual. He was actually grateful for Omega’s early bird agenda and Terzo’s insomnia as fucked as it sounded. He didn’t want them to see him so… downtrodden, it wasn’t a good look.

But when he got to the kitchen, a fresh steaming cup of coffee was sitting on the counter. He could tell it was made the way he liked it from the smell and the color of the liquid in the cup. It’s not like he needed it or wouldn’t drink it if made a different way but only one other ghoul knew his preferred way to drink coffee. Omega had made him his coffee this morning. Likely getting Dew to reheat it before they all moved to their chores and work for the day.

He sipped at it slowly, retreating back to the bedroom. He hadn’t showered before going downstairs. So he did that first, after finishing his coffee of course. The mirror was covered in black lipstick notes from Terzo, Omega, and Alpha respectively. Silly doodles lining the corners of it with “I love you” and “have a good day” scrawled in Omega’s looping script or Terzo’s delicate print. Alpha was the one to draw all the fiery hearts on the glass. He didn’t smile at the sight but it did warm his chest in a way his element could not.

The shower was scalding but still almost too cold for him. The normal. Unsatisfactory lest he had Dew or Ifrit to join him to heat it up and keep him warm. When he got out the coffee cup was gone from the side table he’d left it on. A simple, comfortable outfit was laid out on the bed. The shirt was a deep burgundy… Omega again. Alpha dressed swiftly feeling better, just by a bit, but enough to feel like he could at least go light some fires within the ministry without blowing someone’s brains out.

Luckily the halls seemed empty as he lit a few hearths. Dew and Ifrit had been given work to do outside today, Dew likely showing Ifrit around the lake, and therefore Alpha was assigned to heating the abbey. He didn’t mind the task, but it got boring.

Boring lighting piles of logs one by one, listening to the scratching of pens as the humans in their respective offices worked. Terzo’s office would be last, he always left her for last. As a… reward.

And then, in the first empty office there was a sticky note pressed into the mantle of the fireplace. Omega’s cursive on it.

‘That shirt looks good on you.’ Alpha couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, rolling his eyes at the note before gently putting it into his pocket. Two offices down there was another note, and then another note three down, and then two more notes back to back.

‘Your hair looked cute this morning.’

‘I had to drag terzo away from you today.’

‘Dew wants to have a movie night tonight.’

‘Terzo says we have to join him for lunch today.’

‘I hope you enjoyed your coffee.’

‘Those pants make your ass look good.’

‘I miss you.’

Alpha stared down at the sticky note, plans to abandon his work and swoop Omega into his arms and for them to join Terzo in his office running rampant in his mind.

Some days it was harder to believe. The beginning of that day was one of them. Was one of them at least until Alpha fully believed once more, that Omega loved him.

#alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #alphomega #papa emeritus iii #terzomegalpha #terzomega #ewrites #the band ghost #mushy may #fluff #angst #dewdrop ghoul #ifrit ghoul

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litcityblues · 1 year

Text

'Transformers: Age of Extinction --A Review

Look, I'm not naive. No one is going to mistake a Transformers movie for high art- that's not what these movies are for. You get some popcorn, you sit down, you get a frosty beverage and you watch gigantic metal robots beat the living fuck out of each for a couple of hours and you have a moderately entertaining time. Similarly, this is a Michael Bay movie. He is many things, but Martin Scorsese he is not and his movies tend to be a visual assault on the senses for a couple of hours and I'll give him this: he has a distinct visual style. Things like 'plot' and 'acting', if they happen are just bonuses.

Medium Spawn Jr. has become obsessed with these movies and, since he's five and the wife was having her book club downstairs while I wanted to watch Ahsoka, he wanted to watch Transformers: Age of Extinction, so I, being the good parent that I am, granted his wish, sat down and watched this movie.

I am amazed by this movie. I am amazed that it grossed $1.104 billion dollars at the box office. I am amazed that it somehow managed to get Stanley Tucci, Mark Wahlberg, Kelsey Grammer, and Titus Welliver to agree to be in it-- though in their defense, actors have to eat and pay their bills, so I can't fault them for that.

This movie opens by explaining that 'The Creators' (whoever they are) dumped a bunch of 'seeds' all over the Earth 65 million years ago and wiped out the dinosaurs- providing the viewer with a big, gigantic tease that perhaps the Dinobots are involved in this movie, but viewer, prepare yourself for disappointment because they don't really feature all that much at all.

In the present day, it turns out the Autobots have been driven underground following the Battle of Chicago because humanity panicked and didn't want to make distinctions between the 'good robots' and the 'bad robots' and a CIA Black Ops Unit has teamed up with a Cybertronian bounty hunter to find the survivors.

Meanwhile, in Texas- because that's where you want to put Mark Wahlberg if he's in a movie. Texas. Inventor Cade Yeager is struggling to keep his house and make money. (I'll be honest: his whole character arc would have worked a lot better if he had been a mechanic who is a would-be inventor in Boston, but hey. Choices were made.) He's a single father to Tessa (Nicola Peitz) and because he was a teen Dad, he's super overprotective and doesn't want Tessa dating.

Naturally, this means that she is.

Look, I have nothing against Nicola Peitz. She does well enough with the material she's given to work with, but there is very much, "What if we take Megan Fox's character from the first movie, dress her the same way, make her blonde, and give her pink lipstick" thing going on here that is just, well, lazy. If we must keep making these movies, can we try a different type of female character? Just to see what happens?

One thing leads to another and Cade finds an abandoned truck that turns out to be Optimus Prime and his well-meaning associate/employee Lucas Flannery (T.J. Miller) notifies the government that they might have found an Autobot in hopes of getting the reward money and, more to the point, making some actual money. That brings the bad guys and bounty hunters and things start exploding- and when anything explodes in this movie, it seems to set off fireworks as well, Optimus starts fighting and they are rescued in the nick of time by Tessa's secret boyfriend, the rally car driver, Shane (Jack Reynor.)

Craziest thing ever: according to the wiki-page for this movie, he's supposed to be Irish, but you could have fooled me because I didn't pick up on that at all.

Also, in a super-endearing moment when over-protective Dad, Cade finds out that Shane is 20 and Tessa is 17 and objects to that for obvious, potential statutory rape reasons, Shane whips out an actual, laminated copy of Texas' Romeo and Juliet law and smugly informs Cade that they had a pre-existing foundation for their relationship so it's not statutory rape at all. (If you carry around a laminated copy of a law to prove that your relationship isn't, well, creepy and potentially illegal, perhaps you should date someone your own age. Just saying.)

There are the usual plot points, action shots, robot fights, and product placement that's about as subtle as a brick to the back of the head. (Mark Wahlberg angrily drinks a Bud Light at one point and yells at a motorist which is hilarious in today's context.)

But what really matters isn't how this movie ends, it's where this movie ends, because of a creative decision that I'm sure got every studio executive involved in this movie absolutely slobbering with glee, they find a reason to go to China and in a quest to get that sweet, sweet, Chinese box office money.

Banking on the fact that American audiences will no absolutely nothing about Chinese geography and that Chinese audiences will just be excited to see giant robot fights, nothing makes sense. They land in Shanghai. Optimus goes off- literally flies with nary a problem, which I'm sure the People's Liberation Air Force just kind of shrugged and said, 'Eh, it's a gigantic flying robot. Who cares?'- to noted quiet and obscure part of China, Tianmen Mountain National Park to wake up the Dinobots- who were found at the beginning of the movie in ice like in Greenland or some shit, but are now somehow in China. Characters blow up a factory in Shanghai but somehow decide that they have to get to Hong Kong- 700 miles away, but I'm sure easier to film in at the time.

There is a big showdown in Hong Kong, including the 'not at all insisted upon by the Chinese government' lines of a Hong Kong Police Officer saying 'We'll need help from the Central Government!' and the heroic defense minister- finally noticing that there are gigantic robots wrecking up the place assuring everyone, 'The Central Government will always defend Hong Kong!" This movie was made in 2014, well before the Chinese government got tired of the whole democracy business and crushed it in Hong Kong, but man do those lines hit differently today. The Dinobots (remember them?) show up to save the day and Optimus is riding one of them and it's kind of cool, but other than that, they serve their purpose as a largely meaningless plot point. Just for kicks- again, as subtle as a brick to the back of the head- we see a blown-up bus with a Victoria's Secret ad featured on it and just to remind audiences that they're in China, Stanley Tucci's character gets pissed that they get trapped in a store with a lot of windows and sweeps a table clear of mah-jong tiles.

The greatest crime of all? Somehow this movie is 2 HOURS AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES LONG.

My Grade: * out of ****. Do not watch this movie, unless you enjoy hate-watching movies, then you'll have a great time.

#transformers age of extinction #movie review

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