anantaru · 9 months ago
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hear me out.. this is fluffy 🥹
imagine wriothesley as a dad, especially a girl dad! (thanks to his teaser for this idea!!!)
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cw. ・✶ 。 none, fluff, established relationship (he's your husband), girl dad wriothesley <3 (she's around 6), fem! reader
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the love wriothesley has for his daughter is the purest form of love.
it's new— and he has never felt it before, in fact, it cannot be compared with anything else in this universe.
as it was in his life, wriothesley was severely occupied as the duke of the fortress and such was the wonderful reason as to why he likes to appreciate the little moments that happen in your day to day life with your daughter— the feeling of protecting his child was inexpressible, and in order for him to at least miss you both a little bit less or make it become somewhat bearable, wriothesley finds himself romanticizing the morning hours of the day.
the duke starts his day with greeting you, his wife, and his cute daughter before he helps you to get her ready as much as he can— side note your daughter has his eyes, and if words could describe it only a little bit, she looks just like an angel.
also— it might be silly, or maybe it just looks silly seeing your husband struggle like that, but something about him doing your daughters hair was— by the same token, very cute and quite hilarious.
that's when his alter ego, the quote on quote, “hair stylist wriothesley”, comes into place.
not beating around the bush, but your husband was surprisingly very good at doing her hair. obviously, he does it the same way you showed him, yet he will always add a ridiculous amount of bedazzled hair accessories to her head.
to say that wriothesley was a big fan of glittery, sparkly head pieces would be a clear understatement— but do not try to put them on his hair, this dangerous route will take you to a tickle competition you simply cannot win, not even if you tried your hardest.
the duke didn't see anything wrong with clipping a bunch of radiant hair accessories on her head, even though she might end up looking like a disco ball— not that your daughter minds it, archons, she utterly adored it whenever her dad did her hair!
she was, in fact, the biggest fan of her dad doing it, because they got to spend some quality time together before he would be gone for the majority of her day. how he kneels down behind her while she sits on the little seat in front of her child-sized vanity, looking at her dad through glowy, admiring eyes while he does her hair for the day.
sadly, wriothesley knows that after that he has to work, he must and it will always take him all his power to get going— before that though, he will tell you both goodbye, add a small kiss on his daughters forehead before giving you a small peck on the lips.
how deeply he wanted to spend the day with you two, maybe walk around fontaine so you could shop around— because last time you did that, you actually found a matching outfit for you and your daughter and wriothesley found it to be one of the cutest, little memories in his mind.
he even took a picture of the two of you and keeps it in his wallet at all times now. who knows but when he feels like it becomes unbearable while being apart from his family, he tends to just look at it and smile.
when wriothesley met you, his live truly has changed forever.
you gave him pure, unfaltering love, deep compassion and of course— a family, something he thought he'd never be able to have.
being a parent certainly wasn't an easy task, and it was important to navigate through future differences that might occur one way or the other, more so seek out a good way to find the best possible solution for everybody involved.
not only for your marriage sake, but for your own childs sake— and wriothesley cannot wait to teach her valuable life lessons, about giving love to the world and the importance of following your dreams, opening his arms for his child with kindness, provide his cute daughter with hope, real hope.
while lastly, make his child excited to see this world and grow up with two wonderful parents that love her so very much.
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©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own
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minhosimthings · 5 months ago
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The Elysian Angel || 18+
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Synopsis: For the second day of your pact, you make a good friend in a good angel.
Pairing: detective!Jake × fem!reader
Warnings: smut minors Dni, oral (f receiving), anal sex, switch Jake, slight dom!reader, praise, degradation, p in v sex, dumbification, use of petname 'pup', mention of food and alcohol, Heeseung being an asshole
A/N: My apologies that this took a lot of time. Unfortunately I was travelling and i didn't find time to edit and do all that crap. Also my dumbass wrote the smut on the plane so again, apologies if it is not satisfactory. No I cannot for the life of me praise myself
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The tiny cactus pot near his bedroom window had never seemed more interesting to Jake than now, as he thought over the events that had occured this evening.
Now, hungover and somewhat peckish, Jake thought of his two best friends, a drunk woman, and even more drunker pact. What had he called it? Something with Heeseung and jealousy and whatnot.
Ah yes Heeseung, Jake had a eureka moment, he had cheated on his wife had he not? And she had come to the police precinct and she had beat him in drinking bourbon...yes he remembered now!
Jake sighed to no one in particular as he cuddled into his blanket, watching the way his cactus blocked the shimmering moonlight from entering the room. He was weirdly craving sugar at the moment.
Maybe he should treat Heeseung's wife to his favourite cake tomorrow, he thought, what was her name again? Lee Y/N.
No not Lee, Jake yawned, no she's divorced now, his last thought came as he drifted off to an eager tomorrow.
|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|
"So—" Jake leaned on the table, staring into Sunghoon's eyes, "—how was it last night?"
"Heavenly." Sunghoon sighed dreamily into his coffee, "She gave me some advice on how to-."
"I meant the sexual part." Jake chuckled, "You know, the part where your peni-"
"Yeah yeah I got that!" Sunghoon coughed loudly, though there weren't any other officers in the break room at the moment, save for Jay and Jake who had been listening fondly to Sunghoon show off his new coat, "It was... great! Might I add, she can take a lot. And I mean a damn lot." He widened his eyes to maximise the effect.
"Maybe you just have a tiny dick." Jay snickered, which made Jake spill a waring amount of coffee out of his nose.
"Jake what the fuck!" Sunghoon recoiled, as Jake cleaned himself up, still laughing, "Hey don't do that around her alright?" Sunghoon made a disgusted expression, wiping off the coffee from the table.
"So where is she staying right now?" Jay asked, taking the attention away from Jake's sopping wet shirt, "She can't go back to Heeseung's so—?"
"I dropped her off at a friend's." Sunghoon sipped his coffee, relishing the bitter taste of the grinded beans, "And before you ask, Mister lover boy—", Jake laughed raucously at his quip, "Yes she's fine. And weirdly happy too."
"Where is this friend's place?" Jake asked curiously, glancing at Jay who was looking suspiciously at him, "I-I wanted to take her out...for some cake." He finished awkwardly leading the two men to look at him with raised brows.
"What?" Jake scoffed, "Can't I treat a lady to some cake before I- you know."
"Fighting Jongsoeng for the lover boy position Jake?" Sunghoon laughed, "I'm impressed." He took a look at a glaring Jay, which motivated him further, "Her house is on Baker's Street, the second one when you enter."
"Is that really necessary?" Jay questioned, the gravel in his voice was evident, "She never asked you to buy her cake."
"And yet I want to." Jake answered, downing his coffee in one go, before getting up briskly, "See you later boys."
"Um, sir you have files to complete." Sunghoon interrupted, but Jake was faster in striding out the door.
"Do them for me would you Sunghoon?!"
|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|
The atmosphere around the cafe was pleasant, as the cool evening wind blew against your face. The light brown coloured cake sat patiently in front of you, with only a few bite marks decorating it.
"Thank you for taking me here." You said to the man in front of you, who looked up at you with widened brown eyes, before offering a smile.
"No harm in treating a lady is there?" He poked at his own piece of cake with his fork, "I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything before we—" he smiled awkwardly, "—go into the details of the pact."
You felt him internally cringe at what he had said so you quickly diverted the topic. "Do you come here often?" You asked.
Jake's ever present grin appeared again, as he nodded, looking fondly at the small cafe, which smelled like pine trees to you, though perhaps it was from the fact that you were sitting outside. "It's one of my favourite places to come when I need to take a breather."
You smiled at the man's words as you took the last bite of the cake, closing your eyes to taste it properly. It melted right into your mouth, and you savoured the caramel flavour, sweet yet having a tinge of salt in it. You almost felt like you could have-
"What the fuck are you doing with her?"
That voice.
Your eyes burst open, to locate the source of it, the siren like tones which had once intoxicated you, not irritated you. You first landed on Jake, who was looking behind you with a somewhat terrified expression. Whipping your head around you saw him.
Lee Heeseung.
"And might I ask what you are doing here?" You tried to keep yourself calm, reminding yourself it's a public place.
"Y/N, what are you doing with him?" Heeseung's brow was dripping with sweat and his face was formed in a glare. He looked ferocious.
"I'm not your wife anymore Heeseung." You stated calmly, though you were internally fuming, "So please, can you leave us alone?"
"So you're fucking my colleagues now huh?" Heeseung chuckled loudly, catching the attention of a few people around, "Sort of forgives me for just fucking one other girl doesn't it?"
"Forgives you?"
Your voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. It had a tone to it which Jake had never heard before. It was....colder.
"Are you actually being serious, Heeseung?" You laughed, this time it didn't warm Jake's cheeks. It rather broke through his eyes like icicles.
"You don't have even one right to be forgiven. In fact you don't have any!" You scoffed, "I'm surprised you even have the gall to fucking approach me right now, because trust me, if I were you, I would have hid my face in my bedroom until I died." Jake was taken apart by the very new air of you he was seeing, "So please kindly fuck off would you?"
Heeseung's teeth gritted as he glared daggers at Jake, giving you one final, venomous look before spinning on his heel, and angrily stomping away. The sight of it was practically cartoonish.
"Are you alright?" Jake asked from behind you, you turned to see his worried eyes. His voice was the sweet honeyed one you knew well and proper.
"I'm fine, thank you Jake." You gave him a smile, concealing how much the incident had shaken you.
"It's getting dark." Jake lent you an arm which you gladly took, "Shall we head home?"
"Lead the way." You gave him a final grin.
|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|
"Do all detectives have such nice looking houses?" You chuckled, looking around Jake's apartment. Though not as homely as Sunghoon's was, it certainly was cozy, giving off the same rustic vibes as the cafe. A maroon divan sat in the corner.
"Was Sunghoon's fairy cottage that beautiful?" Jake chuckled, inviting you to sit beside him on the sofa. "Perhaps its just my preference of cottages." You chuckled, though you certainly had no complaint against Jake's apartment.
"You'd like Jay's house then." Jake said, leaning back against the wall of the sofa. Silence passed for what felt like an hour (though it was only five minutes), until Jake finally spoke up.
"How did Sunghoon ever get you into his bedroom?" Jake asked, startling you from the sudden break of silence, "Because I am extremely nervous right now. But then again—" he grinned, "—Park Sunghoon can get even a cupid into his sheets."
"And you can't?" You quizzed, admiring his features, as he shook his head.
"It's a bit shameful for a man to admit but–" he chuckled darkly, "–at the most I've had two women in my bed."
"Would that make me the third?" You fluttered your lashes at him, making him gulp, "Come on, detective Sim," you smirked, “Don’t you want to play with me?” 
Jake's voice catches in his throat as you lock eyes with him. Your eyes are soft and kind, like usual, but the more he looks, the more he begins to notice a hint of lust glazing them. Neither of you move for a moment, studying each other's expressions. Jake moves closer to you, though not close enough for you.
"Closer, detective." you smirk, pulling him closer to kiss him full on his plump lips. His hands find their way to your waist. He pulls you closer to him, and your legs seem to mindlessly straddle his lap. You can't fight the urge to grind your hips against his pelvis, slowly rocking back and forth.
He groans quietly as the two of you continue to kiss, and you use this opportunity to slide your tongue inside his mouth. His saliva has faint tastes of coffee and whiskey.
Jake's fingers mindlessly fiddle with the top button of your blouse, unsure as to whether or not he should undo them. You undo the top one, prompting him to undo the rest. His face is warm and pink as you pull away from the kiss leaving a string of salvia behind, and you can feel his cock harden beneath you as you continue to grind on his lap.
You push your hips into his, his hard-on pushes up into the wet patch on your panties. Slowly, he pushes your skirt down your thighs, and you momentarily stop grinding on him to help take your skirt off. Your bare thighs hover in the cool breeze from the evening. You leaned in for another kiss.
"Wait," Jake stops you, hands rubbing into your waist. With his lusty sinews, Jake picked you up, you wrapped your legs tightly around his hips to secure yourself as he led you into the adjacent room.
"I don't think we should mess my sofa up, eh pup?" The nickname had your core erupting into lava.
|•|•|•|•|•|•|
"You're so pretty..." Jake whispered into your ear as he lay you down on the bed. His bedroom, though tiny, was spacious enough, for you to collect your mind.
"Let's leave the compliments for later detective." You smiled at him, nipping the bud of his ear with your teeth, "For now, " you whispered seductively, "Shall we begin?"
You could feel Jake's nervousness, from the way his body tensed up. Inexperienced man, you thought, you were about to have a lot of fun.
“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin, you were about to take the lead, if he wasn't going to. A woman couldn't have waited all day could she?
Jake complied, easier than you thought, opening his mouth allowing to shove two fingers inside, just like Heeseung had once did to you. He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand. 
“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out. 
You let go of his hand so you could guide his head to where you needed his mouth. Your hands wound tightly into his hair, legs struggling to stay open as you felt the heat of his tongue against your core.
Jake slid it shallowly into your folds. The sensation made you whine and grab his head to push him further. He resisted but soon gave you what you want. Your chest rising and falling rapidly as he tasted you and let a gloriously loud moan vibrate against your center.
“Do that again- Shit, just like that, right there.” you moaned as you felt every bud of his sharp tongue, "G-Good boy...."
You weren't interested in taking it slow tonight, being wet since he had touched you.
He licked a stripe up your vulva, his tongue flat and getting every inch of your pussy till he reached your clit where he wrapped his lips around it and gently sucked.
Your back arched on the bed, one hand going straight to his hair as your orgasm quickly built. Your pussy clenched around nothing as he started flicking his tongue against you.
"Fuck...Jaeyun!" You screamed his name out, which built up the fire in him, "You're being so good for me...."
The other hand not threading through his tresses fisted the sheets of his bed tighter as your hips began to roll and grind against his face in circular motions, trying to catch that sensation of his nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Your body had a mind of its own, sinking deeper and deeper into the burning hot abyss of pleasure and reach the high you were quickly ascending to.
But before you could grasp that high properly, you felt a discerning movement.
"Jake!" You cried, suddenly feeling the familiar taste of his tongue leave your walls empty, "Why the fuck would you do that?!"
"Shh, baby." Jake shushes you, which makes you hold your tongue quickly. Jake let's go of one of your thighs and unbuckles his belt, pulling down his zipper and pushing down his pants. He lets out a deep breath again when he finally feels free and without his tight trousers around his hips. Jake looked magnificent as he admired you laying in front of him. Wild, primal thoughts flanked every neuron of his mind.
"Turn on your side for me." He commands you, with lust filled eyes, "Now." He adds as if it's an afterthought. You quickly obliged, finding his tone of voice enamouring you into obeying him. You couldn't wait for what he was about to do.
Jake knows it's wrong, to fuck another man's wife, but fuck—he couldn't help himself, and anyway you had agreed to this. So there he was, hard cock slipping between your thighs as he thrusts his hips slowly, biting his tongue to prevent the guttural groans threatening to escape his lips. Jake's veined hands slip under your bra, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his thrusts grow slightly faster while his hand grasps at your tit tightly, sinfully thankful that Heeseung had given you up.
"F-Fuckkk-" you groaned painfully as Jake slipped into your ass, you needed time to adjust, "Jaeyun wait—"
Your words meant nothing to him as every thrust stretches you to the shape of him, his cock ramming painfully into your cervix with each thrust. He takes you, uses you as his hips bounce against your ass, shaking you with the force of every movement. Your moans grew louder and louder with each thrust, you felt his hot breath against your neck, and yet he didn't stop, only growing more possesive by the second.
"Fucking hell baby." Jake's accented voice tingled against your skin, "such a good pup for me aren't you?"
The sensations of his mere words burn through your core as your toes curl while he fucks into you with such a possessive need that your whole body trembles with the overwhelming pleasure. His obeying tendencies earlier had changed into a much more obsessive one, turning you on even more.
His expression grows almost enamored at how you're squeezing him-tense, as he thrusts into you, balls slapping against your ass at his relentless pace. Hot, searing pleasure makes its way up your spine-emitting a low, almost inaudible, squeal from you as he pinches your clit.
You're constantly on the edge, slipping in and out of consciousness from his assault on your cervix, harsh-angry thrusts punctuating his words.
"Faster—" you moaned, not realising how much his dick was controlling your mind now, "Jaeyun, fuck—faster please...."
"Faster?" Jake's low voice vibrated on your skin as he chuckled, pulling you against him in a brisk fashion, making you cry out in pleasure, "Am I making you feel good baby?" You nodded, not even hearing his words, fuck he was making you feel better than ever.
"Dumb–" one thrust, "—fucking–" the second, "—pup." He accentuated every word clearly.
Your eyes roll back, and he fucks your hips right back on him with his tight grip on them. Even when the rope breaks, and you’re pushed under—thighs shaking in illicit euphoria as you leak around him, he doesn’t stop.
Like some rabid animal, he takes you back in-then out again with his movements—his thoughts becoming scrambled, accentuated with primal, violent pushes and pulls before he’s slamming back in you again as tears gather in your eyes.
"Jaeyun!" You scream again, feeling your cunt throb for even a mere touch of his dick, which was stretching your back out so well, "I want you Jake.. please.." your begging makes it just sweeter for him.
He gulps and kisses you passionate, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. Hands on your waist, he grips you tightly and flips you over onto your back, the skin on your back tickled as it hit the sheets. He grabs his shaft and runs his tip through your folds, teasing your clit a little bit.
"Fuck, Sunghoon was right," he breaths out, "You really can take a lot and nods. Slowly and carefully he starts to push his fat tip against your entrance, pushing and pushing until his tip was in.
He watches your face for any sort of pain or discomfort but sees nothing, so he pushes forward again until you knit your brows together in pain.
"don't stop, fuck." you whisper against his lips, which motivated him further, "Fuck~Jake!" You moaned, as he moved ever so slightly
The man began to move faster, starting a stutter in his hips that ended up colliding against yours forcefully. It hurt you, it was too abrupt, and that feeling remained there even though the pleasure clouded your mind and senses.
Jake leaned over your sweaty, flushed body to get a better angle, you could see his face better and closer.
He had flowing strands of his black hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, the rest fell on your forehead, tickling you. And his seducing gaze that evaluated each and every one of your expressions, as if he were memorizing them.
You lower your hips slowly before bringing them back up. Jake presses his face against your chest, his own arms moving to wrap around you. His hips move down, fucking into you.
You try to help him as best you can but your thighs are already starting to hurt from being in this position too long.
It didn't seem like Jake minded though. In fact once he notices you’re giving your body up to him he seems to find some super strength because before you know it he’s ramming into you.
His thin lips moved against yours and his tongue made your mouth open to give way to his.
And he was there, kissing you, giving you pleasure and pain, both in a play or duality. His hips were now moving precisely, at a speed that you both enjoyed. His lips dancing over your mouth took away the little breath you had left. The head of his erection began to hit a delicious spot deep in your intimacy that, along with the movement of his thumb squeezing and stretching your clitoris, made your mind blur and spin.
"You can take it," Jake said, noticing your expression, bringing his head down as his tongue swirled over your nipples. Your back arched at the contact, your legs beginning to shake as he brought his hand over to rub on your clit.
Your nails scratched at Jake's back ruthlessly, clawing and taking your way down as you felt the muscles tense underneath your touch. You get your orgasm building up slowly, a dam threatening to burst with every snap of his hips. Your legs began to shake underneath his grasp, your nails digging into the flesh of his back as he buried his head into your shoulder. His cock twitched inside your cunt a couple seconds later, indicating that he was close to his orgasm.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close to you as he continued to thrust inside of you. His eyes rolled back, his cock shooting out ropes of cum deep into your cunt.
Jake's thrusts came to a slow stop. His hand left your throat and went to the back of your head, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. He pulled away and looked into your eyes for a few seconds before pulling out of you. He laid down next to you, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily.
"Whiskey?" "By all means."
|•|•|•|•|•|•|
"This—" You took a deep sniff of the liquid, "—is delicious."
"Jay gifted it to me." Jake took a sip from his glass, savouring the burning taste from the bubbling whiskey, "I feel as if our love language is gifting each other alcohol, especially Jay, with all his knowlege in it."
For the second time since the last two days, you couldn't comprehend why Jay's name had made the veins in your heart abruptly stop, like water against the rocks of a seashore. Though you certainly knew of the tiny red ants in your mind which whispered to you, about love and whatnot.
Well, you sighed to yourself, tomorrow was merely hours away.
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Taglist: @diorsyun @jaeyunluvr @hoondrop @mxxninthesky @alvojake @wondipity @blurryriki @lilyuwon @heeliopheelia @pockettwinzz @heeslomll @seunghancore @shiningnono @noonareads @deobitifull @luvitria @wonibae @nyfwyeonjun @hwa-0403 @saanvilovessunghoon @bubblegyu00 @sunpov @heeheeswifey @chartrucewhore @slut4hee @heesangs-blog @rikiwaify-blog @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @kirinaa08 @heeshlove @seokseokjinkim @brownsugarbaybee @yzzyhee @anittamaxwynnn @kgneptun @penny44224 @ribbioniki @strxwbloody @immelissaaa @heesminee3 @nshmrarki @yawnzzhoon @sousydive @yunhoswrldddd @whateverhoon @cloud-lyy @missychief1404 @ensaz008 @sunsunl0ver @binniesbabe + taglist is open!
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riovidalupdates · 5 days ago
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LAST GIRL STANDING - ii.
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previous part
pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, rio vidal x fem!reader
summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person��because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?
warnings: minor cursing.
a/n: apologies for taking so long for an update. my job is about 10+ hours for four days and on my off days i'm working on set designs so i'm usually sleeping when i get the chance. please go back and reread the first part of this series as i had revised and edited parts of it while adding more to it. I will be adding a taglist soon, if you wish to for me to add you, let me know! with that, enjoy!
You headed to the library, your mind still racing with the remnants of your conversation with Wanda from last night. You had a few hours before your film history class started, and you needed time to clear your head before facing Agatha, the insanely attractive TA, who had unknowingly occupied a corner of your heart for the past semester. You didn’t really know Agatha well enough (or at all) to say much about her, aside from the occasional conversation about coursework. Yet, you had spent countless hours thinking about her, imagining what it would be like to know her beyond the confines of the classroom.
There was a familiarity to her presence that was both reassuring and nerve-wracking. The few times you’d spoken outside of lectures never seemed to work in your favor. You were unable to get more than two words out before something catastrophic occurred like spilling coffee on yourself, stepping in a pile of dog shit, and maybe tripping over a tree branch into a pit of mud(you are not god's favorite).
You'd scurry away before Agatha could do anything. In fact, you'd just barely hear a quiet but polite, "Goodbye?" You only glance over your shoulder when you were far enough away, seeing the outline of her body still in the same place but with her stare directly at you.
Getting lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the presence of another leaning over the table and whispering, “Careful, y/n. If you think any harder, you might accidentally unlock the secrets of the universe.”
You blink, glancing up and see Wanda. “Or I might just discover where all my missing socks go. That’s probably a more realistic goal.”
The redhead giggles, pulling out the chair next to you and sits. “Hey, I’d argue that’s an even bigger mystery. You’d probably get a Nobel Prize for solving that one.”
“I fear that will only end with me having more mismatched socks and even more questions. And maybe a headache.”
Wanda smiles, tilting her head to the side as she always does when you humor her. You can’t help the warmth of blush creep up on your cheeks and ears. It was a habit when you had that type of attention from her. It was never necessarily a bad thing. More so, weird because you don’t completely understand it. You do, yet you don’t at least.
You continue to watch the way she falls into a fit of giggles as she scrunches up her nose and leans forward, causing her hair to cascade over her shoulders. There was always elegance surrounding Wanda. Wherever her presence was, it followed.
You are never one to deny how objectively gorgeous the shorter girl is, but there’s more to her than just physical features. More to Wanda than what you and everyone else around her knew, though, her soul radiates an amplified aspect of exactly how natural her beauty is. What you may not know, may be the one thing that fuels it all.
“So, what’s got you in a deep thought?” You hear her ask.
“The fact that we as humans grow limbs. We start off as an egg and then we grow. We grow arms, legs, fat, eyeballs, bones. Everything. We do that. We start as nothing and then boom! We have these…” you frail your arms around in front and Wanda has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
“How about we go get some snacks before you head to class? I hear thinking causes hunger and existential crisis.”
You smile, nodding your head. “I think you need to start reading again. All those romcoms are getting to you.”
And so what if you’re are going through a form of crisis? Wanda is here. It may not be as easy as flipping a switch, but her presence is enough for you to feel 2% of sanity.
-
Today is no different. You stayed after class, lingering just long enough to ask Agatha a question about the upcoming exam, hoping it might lead to a longer conversation.
“Do you have any suggestions for additional reading?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
Agatha looked up from the papers she was grading, her expression thoughtful. “There’s a great essay on sexuality and gender within horror films if you’re interested in some extra insight. I can send you the link if you’d like.”
“That would be great,” you replied, and for a moment, your eyes met in a way that made your heart skip a beat.
But then, just like that, she turned back to grading, and the moment was gone. It was always like this—brief glimpses of something deeper, but never enough to grasp. You couldn’t tell if you were reading too much into it, or if there really was a chance that Agatha saw you as more than just another student.
It really shouldn’t be much of a shock to you. The two of you are nothing more than just a student and a teacher assistant. You aren’t friends. She has no need to delve into her personal life with you.
While Agatha has checked out from the conversation, you hadn’t. There’s more that you want to say. Though, the longer you stand frozen in place, the longer the moment has passed. It would be weird to say anything else now.
“Have a good day,” you bid. While leaving the classroom, you  tried to shake off the disappointment that seemed to linger, refusing to be ignored. It had been easier when you could write off your feelings for Agatha as a simple crush, a harmless admiration for someone who probably didn’t know you existed beyond the realm of academia.
You weren't sure what you wanted from her, exactly. A part of you longed for more than the polite interactions, yet another part feared what would happen if that boundary was ever crossed. The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you found yourself second-guessing if you should do anything.
“If you would hold for a minute, L/N!”
“No.”
You’re halfway out the building when he steps in your line of vision. You grip onto the strap of your bag, clutching it close. Must he always act like you two are buds?
Vision chuckles, stopping in front of you and a bit too close than usual. Then again, he’s never been good with boundaries or personal space. He’s like a parasite. Constantly attaching himself to someone and sucking the life out of them if it benefits him, he happens to have a talent of hiding it well enough for it not to be noticed.
While you have negative emotions towards the man, you don’t entirely resent him in ways you wish you did. So what if he does forget about the dinner plans that you spend hours on for him to impress Wanda? Or gets too annoyed for how much time she spends with you (ya know the person who walked in diapers with her)? Or when Wanda mentions that she doesn’t need riches, she only needs sincerity and he gifts her a new car?
Okay, maybe he’s got one too many poor attributes to his character, however, there are aspects that make him not inherently the douchebag you desperately want him to be.
Like—“You are rather a chirpy one, aren’t you?”
You stare at him with no amusement written on your face. “My interests lies anywhere but you.”
He shares the ‘boy next door’ charm of a smile, shoving his hand in his pocket, and kicks the toe of your shoe. “I am here to request a favor,” he starts, “I have upset Wanda by overstepping her boundaries. Before speaking your mind, I have apologized to her this morning—“
“—what is your favor?” You asked annoyed.
“I wish to give Wanda a formal apology. Do you recall when she and I were to attend that music festival a couple years back and then we were unable to for unforeseen circumstances?”
You nodded your head, motioning him to continue on.
“Well, I remember you had mentioned that you knew one of the bands performing because you have a friend apart of it. I just-Wanda was and still is a massive fan. You know our 3 year anniversary is coming up-“
“—you can’t buy tickets?” You snickered.
You could tell he was getting slightly irritated by your interruptions. Good. He should for disrupting your semi-peaceful state of mind.
“Forget it. You’re such a nuisance.” He huffs, walking off and all you can do is give him a wave.
You knew what he was going to ask and you weren’t sure if you would have said yes to it or not..
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myosotisa · 2 years ago
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i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.
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Eddie Munson x Reader
ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.
ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy
ǁ word count: 2k
ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now
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There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.
That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.
Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.
But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:
Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.
His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.
The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.
Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.
He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.
The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.
Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.
When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.
The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.
“I - I don’t know.”
Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”
It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.
As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it. 
Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.
Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.
“Are you okay?”
How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”
Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.
That was when the next thing changed.
It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.
Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.
He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.
You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.
I’m starving.
Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.
A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.
What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.
Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?
The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.
Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?
He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.
You wanna do something about it?
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thanks for reading, please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!
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rreskk · 7 months ago
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HEADCANONS: Fem!reader in a relationship with the Holy Trinity
MICHAEL DE SANTA – - “Ah, I’m sorry honey. The movies on.” His love language depends on how much quality time interferes with his own interests. While it may seem neglecting, you’ll come to understand that he’s in his own world. And he makes up by gifting you presents – unwanted or not – trying to reamend the many times he’s bailed on dates, etc. - He may have been a charming man at first, but being in a relationship with Michael really highlights his unfamiliarity with intimacy and connection. He’ll find it hard to communicate his wants due to that barrier between short-term desire and long-term love. You’re usually the one to make a move and give him a foundation to build his trust on. - Michael loves to be glamoured with your compliments and praises. One time he bought a new suit and showed you. After commenting on how handsome he looked, it encouraged him to dive deeper, attempting to drink and eat healthier products but also wear more fitting outfits. You make him look more presentable as you provide support and comfort. - He is a father! When dating a father, here comes responsibilities like parenting advice, and what NOT to say. You’ve experienced how dysfunctional he is. Michael knows he’s a troubling father and he listens to your advice – to an extent. He’ll mostly always add a little twist that completely destroys the meaning of your words, but it’s the consideration that counts. And maybe the tearfulness of his children after. And you annoyance because he dismissed your advice. But hey, that’s Michael! - “You’re dating a movie producer, honey.” Michael will always find a way to be prideful. In all cases where you find a flaw, he’ll shrug it off by mentioning how successful he is (in these flaws), making it sound like a good thing by paradox-ing whatever the hell he’s done – whether that’s criminality or being a selfish ass. -Surprisingly vanilla in the bedroom department. The typical rose petals on the bed and his infamous boxer shorts for when sexy time does occur. Though vanilla, it’s charming because it’s Michael. It’s more bonding he focusses on. Because he’s a bit estranged romantically, he tries to ensure sexual activity is maintained. - He invites you into this nostalgic journey. Allowing him to reminisce really brightens his mood. Even more if you engage and ask questions. It may boost his ego, but he’ll assume you are genuinely interested. - Out of the trio, due to his maturity (even that?) and experience, he’s the most likely to keep you out of the criminality, and so he should! Michael protects you from any dangers and will seclude you from his own issues.
TREVOR PHILIPS – - “What do you mean you were busy?” The most clingiest. He’s very dependant when you earn his trust. Everything has to be outwardly expressed, whether that’s a doctors appointment or Jerry from down the road talking about his heater breaking. Trevor won’t even be interested but he’ll feel safe knowing due to his trust issues. You may get interrogated a lot when you forget to tell him certain things, but if you apologise MEANINGFULLY, he’ll forgive you. Maybe… (The grudge stays there though). - He does carry this intense aura around him and it gets a bit uncomfortable. Trevor has got something constantly making him angry or sad, so you’ll have to deal with this baggage, even if that’s listening to him rant or holding him – as requested. It’s better to say nothing because if you try and be rational, he’ll assume you are devaluing his feelings. - “Why are you closing the door? Leave it open. Ain’t no one here except me.” Trevor does not understand privacy and boundaries. You could be going to the bathroom or wanting time to yourself and he’ll demand you leave the door open. For no reason. He just like hearing you shuffle around. It makes him feel less alone and more safe. However, it can be annoying for you since you are forced to deal with his smell and intensive clinginess. - Very touchy and physical. Trevor has a high sex-drive and will crave bedroom time A LOT. From quickies to a passionate 3 session afternoon which leaves you both gasping for water and the bible. He does make you feel loved though. Not an inch of your skin has been left cold. He has touched you all. One way or another… - Unfortunately includes you in his drama a lot. Trevor doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, let alone his impulses. And he gets into situations all the time. You are either a target of revenge or a cover-up. No in between. SOS babe, you’re in some trouble.
FRANKLIN CLINTON – - He treasures normality out of them all. Franklin craves a normal relationship where you do your own thing, and he does too. Independence is key. However, sometimes you’ll wonder why he hasn’t messaged in days after he left the house last Tuesday. It can strain a bit of your relationship as you don’t share much details about your everyday life, so you have no idea about the activities he gets up to. Vise versa. - “You need a ride out?” Franklin is also observant though. He sees you getting ready and offers you a ride. He sees you looking for something, offers to look. He sees you frustrated, he offers a solution. Despite being the youngest, he’s got a heart of gold towards  the people he loves. - You don’t have to prove your self-worth by being sexually active. Franklin is open-minded enough to understand boundaries and feelings. Just because you’re distant that day doesn’t mean you hate him, and he knows that. Just because you haven’t been sexually active in the past month doesn’t mean you hate him, he knows that too. - Franklin tries to keep you out of his business but sometimes information slips. He can trust the wrong people and get into some trouble, causing you to be a target of revenge. He tries to be private but he’ll talk to people he’ll deem “trustworthy”, and sometimes they can be the wrong people. - Takes you out a lot in dates. You’ll visit new diners, movies, bars, discos. Whatever. Franklin loves quality time and will ensure you are taken out every week. That’s how he bonds. You can share memories and moments together, whether that’s funny memories or romantic, or maybe sad. He finds value in everything. - The people he surround himself with can strain the relationship. Criminals and gangsters. He’ll invite strange people home and you’ll have to deal with their antiques. Franklin shrugs it off as it’s “business”, but you’ll always find the strangers invading your personal space and privacy. Dangerous strangers as well. It puts you on edge.
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tleeaves · 20 days ago
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Rule(heart)breaker
Tokyo Debunker | Ritsu Shinjo x reader/MC Warnings: none Description: the girls (business partners) are fightingggg, minor angst if you tilt your head to the side, potentially ooc maybe idk Author's note: this is my first TDB fic so, um, try not to judge me too harshly maybe if it's totally crap. This is sort of just a snippet of an idea I've been having around a potentially longer/multi-chapter Ritsu fic? Tbh I don't even like this guy that much but something about his character compels me, so, here we are. - T. Lee 🍃
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Ritsu Shinjo prided himself on being perfect; efficient and effective in every way humanly possible until he reached ghoul status and could pursue levels beyond any human alive or dead. So, imagine his surprise when his morning cup of coffee—black, no milk or sugar to ruin the raw taste—went flying out of his hand and spilling over his shirtfront and lap, immediately painting his immaculate uniform shades of brown before he could even utter acimo.
Swiftly, one of six handkerchiefs on his person found itself in his hand and dabbing at the hot mess. If he were anything less than a ghoul and if the cup had not already been cooling for four minutes and twenty seconds, this would probably be hurting a great deal more than it already was.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” a voice squeaked, sounding mortified.
Face as blank as ever, Ritsu glanced up with only the slightest hint of distaste in his tone when he said, “You are late. And I will be charging you for the time wasted and now for my uniform’s dry-cleaning.”
“Are you okay?” the Darkwick inspector asked him, hands hovering awkwardly as he continued pressing the handkerchief against his clothes, attempt to draw out what he could. The handkerchief, he realised dismally, would need cleaning too.
“Wet,” he commented tersely, “And now behind schedule, but fine. Where were you that your time was so occupied at nine AM? The very time, incidentally, I informed you our meeting was to occur here at the Mystery Diner. Twenty minutes ago. You confirmed yesterday during business hours that you would attend this meeting.”
Ritsu watched as your eye twitched. Intriguing… and worrisome. You were his business partner; clumsiness could be forgiven through the correct procedure of reparations, but if you were tired and no longer at your sharpest, that would be a problem for him too. How could he rely on a sleep deprived partner to bring Sinostra enough prestige to win the laurel crown at the Gala?
His gaze never left you as you tentatively sat down across the table from him. An opponent’s position. A business partner would typically sit next to him. He took mental note of that to add in with his voice recordings later when he was transcribing.
As you tugged on your sleeves, Ritsu noticed that your attire was in disarray. Buttons missing, small tears, untucked, upturned collar on one side, and a loose tie that appeared suspiciously like it was cut in half—and not intentionally for style. He started listing these items aloud into his recording, completely missing the flush on your face and the odd glint in your eyes where you usually looked so vacant.
“A mission,” you declared suddenly.
Ritsu paused. Gathered his thoughts and offered the recorder out. “Can you elaborate? You were on a mission?”
“I have been on a mission since the closing of business hours yesterday,” you drawled. Ritsu blinked, a dozen thoughts on workers’ rights, Darkwick policies and rules, and legal procedure running through his mind before anything could leave his mouth. He did not get the chance though, as you continued. “I have been on a mission since yesterday and I just got back from being off campus this morning. I have not slept a goddamn wink, I have not changed, I have not showered, and I have not eaten. Another anomaly was killed instead of being caught for study. So, thank you for waiting patiently for me.”
Ritsu was indignant. “You should not have accepted the mission, you have every right to refuse according to—”
“You don’t get it,” you snapped. He watched as the flush on your face deepened, not with shame but anger. “Nearly four months have passed since I was cursed. I don’t care about being overworked; I care about finding the fucker that’s turning me into its clone. So, I accept every mission Darkwick puts my way and I’ll keep doing it until I find a cure. Yes, that might mean I’m not on time to meetings. But don’t pretend like you aren’t just using me the same way Darkwick and all the other ghouls do.”
Ritsu remained silent, the recording still rolling. You took that as an opportunity to stand from the booth’s table and plant a hand on its surface. His empty coffee cup rattled.
“Or do you deny it? We’re spending more time elevating Sinostra so you can continue your little glory quest than we are investigating anything related to my curse.” Your eyes were steely and a small part of Ritsu wavered under that stare. It seemed ridiculous because he was not one to be intimidated, ever. So, what else was the feeling?
Ritsu took a breath, readjusting his blazer, though he stayed seated. “You have adequately addressed your concerns. I make no such admissions or denials at this time on the matter.” He sighed shortly. “We are business partners. It is natural we should not get along and agree on everything, but there is no matter I cannot resolve with enough time.” He checked his gleaming watch. “We should resume this matter at four—”
“Hell no.” Moving around the table to loom beside him, you said, “Let it go on record that Darkwick’s inspector resigns from the business partnership with Ritsu Shinjo, starting now. We have different priorities.”
Ritsu stood. “Sinostra has missions.”
“Sinostra can barely go a week without any warnings from the academy,” you seethed.
“That is why we are working together to preserve its reputation,” he argued.
You gave him a cool smile. “Exactly. Different priorities.” Striding past a bored-looking Ren Shiranami, you said, “Nice knowing you, Thesaurus.” The door shut heavily behind you.
Ritsu watched your retreating figure out the diner’s windows before you disappeared from view around the corner. He sighed through his nose. This was not good. One way or another, he needed to get his business partner back, or better yet, find a suitable replacement.
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shantechni · 10 months ago
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Aight, maybe I'm clinically paranoid or a little slow on the uptake (the former is more probable) but something just struck me about the episode Buried Secrets.
Donnie didn't believe Mikey, but he still went looking into Mrs. O'Neil??
Firstly, we can all agree that Donnie was bound to check out the data from the cryotube to figure out why Mrs. O'Neil was placed into stasis and left behind at the farmhouse (he's just thorough like that). However, what's interesting is that he doesn't seem concerned with the readouts until after he and the others had collectively yelled at Mikey for trying to attack Mrs. O'Neil in the dead of night. And, keep in mind, it was broad daylight when they found Mrs. O'Neil, still daylight when she told them her story, yet we don't see him messing with the cryotube's computers until nighttime.
Secondly, his demeanor towards who he believes to be Mikey is very unlike the rage he blasted him with during the interrogation scene (something that also happened at night but still preceded him checking the readouts). Maybe he's just in scientist mode and being civil, but other than appearing to be annoyed by the jump scare he received,he doesn't behave as though he's dwelling on what happened, nor does he add any input when April expresses her frustration like one would make him out to do.
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Thirdly, when Donnie speaks to himself outloud, he specifies that he's attempting to find out what the Kraang did to Mrs. O'Neil, not necessarily why she was left in the cryotube. The gang learned in the previous season from Kurtzman that April's mom was experimented on before she was born, therefore turning April into a Kraang-human hybrid. And now's his chance to finally find out what was done to her.
I know it's heavily debatable if Mikey influenced Donnie's decision, and obviously he could've been messing around with the cryotube's computer off-screen before Mikey tried to attack Mrs. O'Neil, but I'd like to believe Mikey's claims weren't being as readily dismissed as everyone thought they were being. As I've mentioned in another post, even though the boys have trouble believing everything Mikey says, they do have a tendency of checking out his claims in spite of their disbelief. The first and earliest example of this is in the first episode when Mikey tries to tell them the Kraang are alien robots. It's no surprise that they don't believe him one bit, though it is a surprise that they follow him anyway.
They saw how adamant he was in trying to prove he's being honest, and his urgency is enough to persuade them.
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Though the situations vary each time, they continually do this all the way into the final season when Mikey claims to have seen the '87 turtles in their dimension. They question him again, not because they don't trust him, but rather to make sure he knew what he saw was indeed the other versions of themselves. After Mikey tells them the other turtles were taken to Chinatown, Donnie puts together that they must be the reason he was detecting energy from an interdimensional portal earlier, and they all go to investigate. Of course, it turns out that Mikey's eyes weren't playing tricks on him, and Raph makes a joke about Mikey being right again.
The guys have trouble accepting Mikey's words as the truth quite a bit, but the sheer number of times that they go running after him and giving him a chance to convince them is telling of how much they trust him.
As outlandish of an occurence as it was to believe that April's mom was the enemy, they all know Mikey well enough to give his words some thought, and Donnie likely took the unexpected attack as a sure sign that he should do some investigating of his own. Whether or not the others knew what he was doing in the Kraang ship is up in the air, but it'd make sense for him to be secretive about his actions since April would only get angrier at the idea of them not trusting her mom. That idea can potentially be supported by him obviously not telling her what he's doing.
Once again I've completely lost where I was going with this, but I like to believe that Donnie started to believe Mikey right before they were thrust into another horror night.
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felassan · 4 months ago
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Just poring over some of the new images. ◕‿◕ DA:TV spoilers under cut.
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in what seems to be an in-gameplay version of the more cinematic[?] group-fight scene we saw at the end of the character trailer, Rogue Rook stands ready to fight with Harding and Taash (toll...). Red lyrium mutated darkspawn that remind me of these guys from concept art, with red lyrium claws (! dangerous. and new I think?), run towards them. the structures around them are Blighted, covered by Tainted pustules and horrible growths. red lighting enhances the impression/threat of red lyrium spread and in general. also, I am really curious what these blue lamp things are? something to do with blue lyrium, or objects we can break to refresh our potion supply in the boss battle with this dragon and its darkspawn adds that is clearly about to go down, perhaps? the backdrop looks like a starry sky, and in the middle it reminds me of an eclipse 👀 (which is a prominent motif in DA:TV promo material and some previous lore. e.g. one, two, three), like the moon is blocking out the sun.
the scene compositionally reminds me of this key art, though it seems to be a different dragon, as this one's horns curl down and that one's horns curl up.
behind the dragon are the Evanuris head statues. maybe this fight occurs near the end of the game, and the team return to where it all began (Solas' ritual site in Arlathan Forest) to take down the final boss? maybe in that time red lyrium/Taint corruption overtook the area. or maybe this is taking place in the Gold/Black City in the Fade [it could be both, the Fade reflects the waking world sometimes]. as it also reminds me compositionally of the vinyl covers, Gold and Black. the dragon, the outspread wings, a figure/s in the foreground, the sun/moon/eclipse imagery in the background, corruption, the city surrounds. though this dragon's horns match neither of the dragons below hh.
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the spire-like structures with their points remind me of the spire-like structures of the City here on the vinyl art - namely, the timepoint on the right, when everything is corrupted and Blighted, like it is in the image above with Rook.
I wanna say that maybe the dragon in the image above with Rook is Elgar'nan in dragon form. The Evanuris Were [all] Dragons[haped sometimes], "Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, strike the usurpers with your lightning, burn the ground under your gaze, bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work", "Light radiates from the eidolon’s narrowed eyes and its open, snarling mouth", "Elgar'nan, Sun's death, burn the ground under your gaze, grant the fire blessing, your people call out, for all things to end in flame." he's back now, and Ghilan'nain is also back but she wouldn't need to take dragon form maybe, she's already in a kinda monstrous form in the gameplay reveal video and for variety her boss battle could have her in the massive centipede-monster form instead, two.
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kolyasangel · 2 months ago
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ERASE ME FROM HERE AND SET ME FREE
synopsis: now that you're acquainted with nikolai, you start to sense hidden troubles and you're even more determined to become closer to him.
content: ch. 2 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 4.1k
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The jingle of the bells ringing fills the air as you and Nikolai enter the cafe. The smell of freshly baked pastries and coffee hits your nose, creating a pleasing aroma. It's particularly busy today, bustling with customers, most likely because it's a Saturday.
"I didn't know you came to this cafe too, I always come here after work," you say to Nikolai.
"Oh yeah? That's nice." Nikolai says nonchalantly as he's intently looking at the menu, deliberating on what he wants to order, while you find yourself drawn to the delectable array of desserts behind the glass display.
"What are you getting?" you ask him.
"The iced honey lemon tea." He replies, looking to his side where you are. "What do you want?"
"I'll get the same thing as you, and slice of a strawberry cake."
He pauses, visibly curious about your choice of beverage. Perhaps you enjoyed his favorite tea too, he thought. "You like that tea?"
"I've never had it before so I want to try it, I like trying new things," you explain. He can't quite put his finger on it—but he finds something about your statement endearing and innocent.
Nikolai places the order, and you reach for your wallet in your little bag to pay for the both of you. He sees you do this and intervenes, halting you.
"Nuh-uh, put that way. I'm paying." he insists.
You look up at him and immediately shake your head in disagreement. "Please, I told you I would treat you."
"Hell no, I'm not letting you pay. What kind of guy would I be if I let the lady pay? I may be a dick, but I'm still a gentleman." he argues.
It was hard to hold back a laugh at his earnestness. He sounded so serious about his claim like he genuinely wanted you to believe him and it was so.. cute.
"Sometimes." you add, not missing the slight smile falling on his lips from your response.
Nikolai himself was a little surprised by your reaction and playful comment. He was expecting some kind of protest, not for you to laugh at him.
He motions you to sit at a table while he pays, so you do just that. You pick a small cozy table next to the window with two seats and sit down in one of them. As you sit, you rest your chin in the palm of your hand and look out the window, stealing occasional glimpses of passersby and whatnot outside. The events that occurred this morning went by in a blur—you showing up at Nikolai's door and waiting twenty minutes for him to get ready because he hadn't done so beforehand. You honestly don't know why it took that long because he didn't wear anything different than what you've already seen, just the usual t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn't mind, though—you're just grateful Nikolai agreed to spend time with you today.
You are caught off guard when Nikolai comes back and takes a seat in the chair across from you. Being in such proximity allowed you to observe and appreciate his features. His hair looks soft, and the striking eyes that met yours for the first time two days ago appeared to hold the same intensity, this time with a tinge of softness mingled in them. But, you figured that maybe you shouldn't be staring, so you fiddle with your fingers instead to pass some time before the drinks arrive.
Nikolai takes a moment to glance at your outfit while you aren't looking at him and notices how you dressed up in a pretty sundress today. For a second, he feels a bit bad that he didn't make the effort to fix up his appearance as you did, but the brief twinge of guilt felt was instantly drowned out by reluctant resistance. It doesn't matter.
"I'm happy you took time out of your day to hang out with me." you express and offer a cute smile, taking him out of his thoughts.
Nikolai looks at you, baffled, unsure of how to take your words or how to respond. "Hey hey, keep that away alright? This isn't a date or anything," he interjects before looking away from you to gaze out the window instead, avoiding your eyes and unwilling to engage further in your comment.
You felt your cheeks flush when he said that—that thought hadn't even crossed your mind. A date? With Nikolai? Like he'd ever want that.
Lost in your thoughts, you were pulled out of them as the waitress came with both of your drinks and your cake. She must've thought you and Nikolai were together, evidenced by how she grinned at you both and the two forks placed by the cake on the plate.
Nikolai, on the other hand, either didn't notice this or decided to ignore it. Rather, he seems unbothered while taking a sip of his tea, humming in delight when the familiar taste settles on his tongue.
You reach for your cup and take a sip of yours as well, eager to taste it. "Ooh, I like it! I think this might be my new favorite." you say before taking another sip, relishing the sweet and sour taste. A certain expression you couldn't quite identify flickers in Nikolai's eyes as he observes you.
Putting your tea down, you grew more curious about something and were practically itching to ask about it. "Can I ask you something, Nikolai?"
"You already did, silly." he playfully answers.
"Oh." you grin at the nickname, making you feel more relaxed. "Well.. can I ask how you got that scar?" you ask, resting your chin in the palms of your hands.
His eyes widen. He didn't expect that one.
As obvious as it was, he was still hoping you wouldn't ask about it, the risk of it leading to questions about his past surfacing. Despite this, fingers came up to his face to lightly graze against the scar that ran from his upper eyebrow and down his left eye. "This one? It's hideous isn't it?" he asks humorously, almost as if he's anticipating agreement.
"No, I think it actually looks kinda cool, it suits you in a way.." Your words elicit a gentle smile from him. "Did you get into a fight or something?"
"You could say that."
He was making it clear as day that he didn't want to elaborate or actually answer your question, so you didn't persist. Perhaps it wasn't a fond memory he liked to remember.
Instead, you notice him eyeing the cake in front of you.
"Do you want some? Here." You push the plate towards the middle of the table and hand him the other fork, waiting for him to take it, which he does.
He digs the fork into the other side of the cake and takes a bite before averting his eyes to look out the window, seemingly uncomfortable to meet your eyes in this moment.
You took another bite and munched on the cake happily, enjoying it.
"So.." Nikolai's mellow voice draws your attention. "What do you do for work?" he asks as he faces you again, initiating a conversation.
"I'm a florist," you reply, a smile lighting up your face. "The shop is not too far down this street, actually. That's why I come here after work since the walk is short." you explain.
"Florist, huh.." he muses, taking another sip of his tea as he listens to you intently.
"Yeah, I like flowers a lot!" you say, your passion for your work evident in your tone. "I love my job."
Nikolai seems genuinely taken aback by your enthusiasm. This was probably the first time he'd ever heard someone talk so fondly about their work, not that the event of him talking to people happened often. But it was unusual. You sure are a weird one.
"Do you like flowers, Nikolai?"
"Probably not as much as you do." he mutters, putting his tea down. "You go to school?"
"I graduated college recently.." you respond.
He nods in understanding. "Ah, you're young."
"You're young too right? You don't seem that much older than me." you tease, trying to gauge his age.
"I don't know if you'd consider me young, but by definition, I suppose I am," he replies with a hint of amusement.
"You're like the only person around my age I've seen in the complex, you know." you mention, smiling and reaching for your cup of tea. "I'm glad I bumped into you after he told me not to speak to you."
His brows furrow at your words. He seems upset. "Who said that?"
"Our landlord," you clarify. "A few days ago, after an apartment inspection."
"Oh, that old piece of shit." he grumbles.
"He's not that old.." you reply, puzzled by his reaction.
"The way you're saying it makes it sound like you have a crush on him." he jokes before taking another bite of the cake.
"What?! Absolutely not!" you exclaim, scoffing at the thought.
"Yeah, yeah whatever." Nikolai retorts, nodding and shrugging it off before asking you another question to switch the topic. "Any friends around here?"
You freeze but quickly shake your nerves off. "Now you're the one interrogating me with questions." you giggle, albeit nervously, wanting to avoid the question.
He tries to conceal a smile but fails when he hears your laugh, not being able to stop the corners of his mouth from curling upwards. "Yeah, I guess I am. Consider it sort of a payback, now we're even."
"I suppose so." you laugh, finding the banter between the both of you amusing. "Enough about me, I wanna know about you!" you say, eager to steer the conversation in a different direction.
Nikolai's smile fades and he clears his throat. "Oh, I'm not that interesting. You'll probably get bored if I start talking about myself."
"Aw, c'mon! Please?" you implore, displaying your keen interest in learning more about him. "What do you like to do in your free time?"
Your insatiable desire to know more about him. He hates it.
He clenches his jaw and his heart is beating faster in nervousness. "I don't know.." he says, not knowing how to answer your question.
You sense the discomfort hidden in his answer, noticing an undertone of dismay tainting his voice, so you decide it's best to change the subject. "When did you move here?" you ask with a gentler voice.
"I don't know, two years ago, I think. I lost track of time." He eventually mutters, his tone more quieter than before.
"Ooh, and where did you live before then? What did you do for work?" you ask, now interested in his past.
Nikolai stiffens, a hint of unease crossing his features. He can't tell you anything about his previous endeavors.
Although you're eager, he doesn't entertain your curiosity and remains silent, causing you to huff and lean back in your seat in frustration. He's so stubborn. But you can't hold it against him—for you suppose that you too are stubborn sometimes as well.
You look at your plate and notice the last strawberry, the one that sat on top of the cake, left on the plate. You push the plate towards Nikolai. "You can have it."
"Are you kidding? You eat it." He pushes the plate back to you, not understanding why you don't just eat it yourself instead of giving it to him.
You didn't know what you were expecting from him, but deep down, a part of you secretly wished for him to accept your nice gesture. Unwilling to make a big deal out of it, you poke your fork through the berry and take a nibble.
— ✦
After the two of you leave the cafe, the slight breeze provides some coolness from the heat as the sun's rays beat down on your skin.
Nikolai proceeded to walk to his car, but you hesitated, standing in place, reluctant to leave just yet. Your eyes instead lingered in the direction of the flower shop that was nearby.
"What are you waiting for? Let's go." he calls for you, drawing your attention.
You hurry over to him but don't get into the car. "Nikolai, I want to show you something. Please?" you told him, your hands clasped together, one squeezing the other. He was about to enter his car, but the way you spoke to him and the expression on your face made it very difficult to do.
He wished he could get rid of these feelings once and for all. His chest felt constricted. It was all too overwhelming—the way his emotions overbore and defied any rational thinking or reason. It annoyed him to no end. Damn it all to hell.
"No, come on, we're going." he tries his best to maintain his composure and conceal any weakness.
"Nikolai.." you touch his shoulder. "The flower shop is down the road, do you wanna see it? It'll be quick, I promise. I don't have the keys right now, but I could show you the outside."
Your touch is so gentle.
He pulls away, avoiding any further contact with you, and looks at you again with a peeved expression. He sighs deeply and puts a hand over his eyes, his other arm still gripping the car door handle.
Seeing his reaction, you decide maybe it wasn't a good idea to push him any further. Annoyance, or frustration, is what you believe he's experiencing, or maybe a combination of both. You move to the passenger side, not wanting to trouble him any longer, preparing to let him drive you home.
He removes his hand from his eyes when he hears shuffling and notices the sad look on your face as you are about to open the car door. "Fine, fine!" He throws his arms up in defeat.
You look at him in shock and move your hands up to your chest, a smile painting your face as he agrees to go check out the shop.
"Well, get a move on. We don't have all day." He says while putting his keys in his pocket and starts walking. You catch up to him and walk beside him, slightly ahead so that he can follow your direction. However, you do struggle a bit to keep pace as he walks faster since he's so much taller than you, which makes you somewhat nervous. But regardless of his slightly intimidating appearance, you still find him to be kind.
A few minutes later, Nikolai comes to a stop when you do, standing in front of a small building.
"Right here?" he asks.
You nod and move closer to peer through the glass into the dark, empty shop. "The shop isn't open on weekends."
Nikolai admires the shop exterior, finding it surprisingly charming compared to what he had imagined. The outside of the building is a dark green—a color of nature that perfectly suits the shop's offerings. He looks up at the sign that hangs above the entrance.
"Lily of the valley - Flowers and gifts."
He must admit, it does look like a cozy and inviting place to work and spend time in. It quite suits your personality, he thought.
"It's lovely." He says sincerely, more honest than he would've liked for it to come across.
The reason is inexplicable, but his reaction makes you more giddy than you expected it to make you, with his face looking so soft compared to just a few minutes ago. You're happy he likes it. You're so happy.
"What are you planning to do with the degree that you earned?" he suddenly asks. "I'm sure you don't want to stay working here forever."
"I would like to if I could." you say, no trace of uncertainty in your voice. "It doesn't pay much, but, for me it's better than anything else. It makes me happy.." your voice trails off.
He notices the falter in your voice. "You don't seem too happy right now."
"What? Oh.." you look at the ground before looking up again, your head still slightly tilted to the floor. "I just don't like talking about the future, I'm still not completely sure what I want and it makes me nervous. I don't want to get stuck with some job I don't enjoy and throw away my happiness."
Nikolai's brows ease while he attentively listens to you talking about your troubles. He doesn't know what to say to make you feel better or why he even cares at all anyway.
"I think the place I'm in right now is fine, and I shouldn't rush myself into getting a career." you continue. "Even if that day never comes, even if I stay at this place, I'll be content."
Maybe it's the look on your face that is visible to him through the reflection of the glass or the wavering in your typically cheerful voice. Whatever it is, something grips at his chest. His chest feels tight, and his heart is pounding against his chest, desperate in a futile attempt to break free from its cage. It feels like he can't breathe.
You look away from the glass and look back at Nikolai.
"I'm sorry, we can go back now.." you smile, but he sees right through you and can tell you are feigning ease from the lack of crinkles around your eyes.
Nikolai pats the pocket that holds his keys and starts walking in the direction of his car without exchanging another word, you following behind.
But you nearly bump into him shortly when Nikolai suddenly halts in his tracks. Your face would've almost touched his back if you hadn't looked up in time, and you quickly moved beside him to see what had captured his attention.
Your eyes land on a group of pigeons on the ground, and you can't help but smile as you watch them, finding their waddling walks cute. Then, you look back at Nikolai, who seems to be focused on the birds before noticing your gaze towards him, causing him to start moving again towards his car.
You follow him closely now, nearly brushing arms. "Did you want to watch the birds a little longer, Nikolai?" you ask, noticing the shift in his abrupt actions.
"No.." his voice is quiet, barely audible.
He enters his car and settles into the driver's seat, and you get into the passenger's side, carefully fastening your seat belt. Nikolai's car wasn't the nicest, quite the opposite actually with how messy and dirty the inside was, but who were you to judge the vehicle he drove? It wasn't any of your business so you kept your mouth shut—which is good for Nikolai as he's hoping you don't talk anymore for the sake of his sanity. He starts to drive and you grip your purse, succumbing to boredom, you decide to rummage through it for a bit before pulling down the sun visor to look in the little mirror.
"Fucking hell," he curses under his breath when he catches a glimpse of you looking at your reflection through the car mirror. His grip on the steering wheel tightens a little, deterring his eyes away and trying to focus on the road instead of how you're currently tracing your finger along the edges of your lips, cleaning up your lip gloss.
The ride back to the apartment complex was silent, thankfully, Nikolai thought. It was only when he parked that you caused that silence to dissipate.
"Nikolai, thank you for today." You're facing him now with a satisfied expression, a grin creeping up on your face.
One of his hands is still firmly gripping the bottom of the wheel while the other is on the door handle, avoiding looking at you. "You don't need to thank me for anything, and this was your idea anyway," he mutters in response.
"I know.. but you still agreed and took me out, and you even paid for me. So, thank you again." you say with a sweet smile. It had been a while since you casually hung out with someone like this, and you couldn't remember the last time you'd enjoyed someone's company so much, so your short time with Nikolai brought great delight to your day.
Nikolai looks at you, finally. His hand on the wheel relaxes and drops to his lap, and his features soften as his tenseness diminishes.
"You're welcome."
You feel your ears redden at his honest tone and the way he looks at you, a hint of glimmer visible in his eyes. Eventually, you tear your gaze away from him after a few seconds, which too, makes Nikolai snap back into reality. He looks out the car window and coughs, trying to dispel the slight awkwardness that crept in.
"Come on." He quickly gets out of the car and closes the door, not waiting for you to get out before he starts walking. You exit the car after him and close the door, catching up to him.
"Hey, Nikolai, glad to see you finally outside for once!" a voice calls out.
Nikolai clicked his tongue and made no eye contact with the man he despised.
"Ignore him," he mutters as the two of you approach the building.
You see the landlord on the first floor who, what you assume, is doing his regular duties. But you notice his stare fixates on Nikolai, and as you both near the stairs, you feel a hand grasp your wrist which causes you to gasp.
"Finally got a girlfriend?" he asks Nikolai, mockingly.
"Fuck off." Nikolai spews back. He must really loathe that guy for some reason. He lets go of your wrist and moves his hand to your back, gently urging you to move forward after you both pass the guy.
"Stay in front of me." his voice is stern.
You nod, your cheeks still burning from the sudden contact between you two.
"Why are you so mean to him?" you ask, visibly confused about the obvious scorn he regarded for the landlord.
"Because I'm sick of getting treated like shit."
His comment makes you frown as you hear his tone shift into an aggrieved one, the raw resentment in his voice transparent. He'd never been this expressive before, and you couldn't help but worry about him, wondering what might've led to such a stark change in his demeanor.
You and Nikolai make it to the second floor, and you stare as he gets his keys out, unlocking his door before turning to see you looking at him.
"What? Do you think you're coming in? Because you're not."
"N-No, it's not that! I just have to ask you something." you stammer out.
He sighs and closes his eyes while using a shoulder to lean on the doorframe, mentally preparing himself for only God knows what is about to come.
"Nikolai.." your mellifluous voice begins.
God, the way you say his name is too cute. It drips from your lips like honey.
I don’t like what you're doing to me.
"Yeah?" his eyes open to look at you again.
"We're friends, right..?" you timidly ask, awaiting his answer tentatively.
Friends? No. No, No, this was a one-time thing, right? What the hell do you mean friends?
His heart is beating fast like a drum and his hands began trembling. "I— uh.."
Too comfortable. Don't get too comfortable with her. She's already getting too comfortable with you.
"Nikolai, I just want you to know.. if you ever feel sad, you can talk to me. I'll be your friend." you beam. "I'm always next door, only a knock away."
His lips part slightly in thorough disbelief at what he is hearing, unable to accept it. You're concerned for him. You genuinely want to be his friend. Since childhood, he'd always been used to it being the other way around, but for once, someone was so kind enough to ask him instead, which left him quite awestruck, to say the least.
"Except when I'm at work." You try to lighten the mood, and to your relief, he lets out a chuckle.
"You smiled a lot today." you comment shyly. "You know, I think we should hang out like this more often. I wouldn't mind at all." you admit, your eyelashes fluttering as you look down.
"You didn't have to point that out." He feels a heat of embarrassment overcome him, his cheeks dusting with a soft pink color as he awkwardly rubbed the nape of his neck, your observation making him more self-conscious. "Me neither.." he added, the words spilling out of his mouth involuntarily.
Fuck. Why did I say that?
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© kolyasangel 2024 - no reposts. do not copy, steal, or translate. reblogs are appreciated.
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positivexcellence · 4 months ago
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Jared Padalecki Says Goodbye to ‘Walker’ and Blasts the CW’s ‘Cheap Content’ Strategy After Show’s Cancellation: ‘F— It. They Can’t Fire Me Again’
The writers first introduced this Jackal storyline at the end of the third season as a way to excavate more demons from Cordell and Captain James’ (Coby Bell) shared past. What did this storyline help you unlock in terms of your understanding of Cordell? What were you most interested in exploring from a character perspective?
I’ve been fortunate enough for many years, many decades, to play characters that are in situations where the story is not about the situation necessarily: It’s about what’s going on with the character. On “Supernatural,” we fought God, we fought Lucifer, I was Lucifer at one point, we fought demons — but it was really about the brothers. It was about a bond; it was about the tropes of sacrifice, loyalty, determination, discipline and so many more things.
So when the Jackal storyline first occurred to the gang, [a serial killer storyline] was something that we hadn’t approached yet on “Walker.” And it’s something that the real Texas Rangers actually get involved with: They do hunt down and investigate serial killer allegations. So it was a fun template with which to play out past traumas, [as well as this idea of] trusting those close to you and them trusting you back and getting out of your head.
I don’t want to say I suffer [from this], but I’m in my head a lot. Partially that’s my nature, just the way I was born; and partially that’s my nurture, being an actor. You have your script, you read it, and you’re like, “OK, now what can I add? What does this mean?” So I just spend a lot of time in my head, and oftentimes it takes somebody beloved that’s part of my circle to go, “Hey, you all right?” And I’ll be like, “Oh shit. Yeah, sorry, I’ve been kind of elsewhere.” So [I enjoyed] playing that role this season, and understanding how the rabbit hole of emotions in your mind can sometimes affect more than just you.
This iteration of “Walker” has always been about Cordell’s neverending internal struggle to find the right work-life balance. For me, he seems to finally recognize that he’s done plenty of great work as a Ranger, but he has yet to really fulfill his duties as a father, even though he is about to become an empty nester. What is your take on where we leave him in the finale?
Yeah, it’s exactly that — and kudos to Anna and the rest of the writing gang. It was a lot of what I was going through [in real life]. It’s a lot of what I’m going through now, having worked since I was 17 years old when I started “Gilmore Girls.” There are a lot of things that you miss when you’re acting — a lot of graduations, camp drop-offs, kids’ games, whatever. It’s a wonderful job, and I’m so grateful to have been able to do it for so long, but there’s a lot that you give up.
So I think where we find Cordell in the finale is exactly in that spot where he’s no longer anxiety- or panic-driven about having to do the next job, having to get up and find somebody to arrest or find something to fix or investigate. He has realized — much to the credit of Jeff Pierre’s Trey, Ashley Reyes’ Cassie, and obviously Coby Bell’s Larry James — that, “Hey, the world goes on without you.” I think Cordell was in his own head for a lot of the episodes, and afraid that if he wasn’t around, things would fall apart. I think he found a place where he is like, “The world was here before me. The world will be here after me. And what I need to do for those around me is spend time with them.” So he’s come to a realization that there’s more than just the next job.
I think it took him — I don’t want to call it rock bottom, but getting out of control with his obsession with the Jackal to realize, “Oh, wait, maybe I need to step away from this for a little bit, and when I come back, I’ll come back stronger and more clear headed.” There will always be another job, but the family is growing up. August is graduating, Stella is in college, and he and Geri are working through some stuff. So I think he realized that, “Hey, I need to put my energies elsewhere.” It’s told in TV form, but it’s a really universal lesson. Sometimes, just doing something different, just changing your routine, can open your eyes to not only the positives of the routine — but also the drawbacks.
The writers have put Cordell through the wringer over the years, but this is the closest that he came to dying. The idea of mortality becomes even more intense when you become a parent — and, in Cordell’s case, a widowed single parent — because you have to think about what you’re leaving behind for your children.
Great point. [My wife] Genevieve [who played Cordell’s late wife, Emily] and I talk about that all the time, as parents. I think this is one of the lessons that both Gen and I hope to give to our kids, and for them to grasp as well. As kids grow up — and even adults — they will often deal with and question: “Is what I’m doing right? Should I be doing something else? If I’m not important here, then am I important at all?” I think part of the reason Cordell makes the decision that he does at the end of the finale is to show his kids: “Hey, I know I’ve been doing this, and it is very important. But so are you. It’s not a ‘no, but.’ It’s a ‘yes, and.’” It takes courage to leave routine, to leave habits, and I think he wants his kids to know, “Hey, it’s OK if y’all have to pivot, if y’all have to change. Do what you know is right, not what you think other people think is right.”
Unlike some other shows on the bubble, you and the writers elected not to shoot an alternate ending. That means you’ve left the audience with a couple big cliffhangers: In addition to taking a leave of absence, Cordell is also planning to propose to Geri; and James Van Der Beek was going to play the Walkers’ new (and potentially nefarious) neighbor. Did you and Anna discuss what next season would have looked like?
Yeah, there was so much to deal with, now that Violet and Kale are both young adults. They’re not children like they were four years ago, both literally and metaphorically. So there was a lot that we were going to explore with them — like, how much the sins of the father can carry down to the progeny, and how much Stella and/or August had, unfortunately, [inherited] their father’s bad qualities as well, which we dealt with this year with Stella. She’s very much like her father in the good ways and in the bad ways.
But we were very excited to have James on the show. He’s a personal friend, and he lives here in Austin. It wasn’t going to be like the Walker-Davidson feud necessarily [from Season 2], and the fifth season was certainly not written by any means, but I think there was going to be a very interesting dynamic that Cordell was maybe not anticipating, because he was taking a backseat on his law enforcement duties. We thought that James and his crew were going to be maybe up to no good, and Walker was just blinded to it.
Walker was a “Hell yes” or “hell no” kind of guy; he was either all-in on something, or he was kind of oblivious to it. And that was good when he was all-in on a job or all-in on trying to work with his family. But it was bad when he was oblivious: “Oh, no, the kids are fine. I’m fine. They’re nice. Don’t be suspicious of this person, or that person.” And he kind of got stuck in his own head, as we all often do at times. So we were going to explore that.
Is there something that you would have personally loved to have explored further with Cordell, if you had been given more time?
Oh my God. How long do you have? I really would’ve done the show forever. I just loved my character. I loved that I got to be in Austin with my family. I loved my cast and loved our crew. Maybe this is what ultimately was our downfall, but we weren’t ever seeking like, “Oh, here’s the explosion. Oh, here’s the wild cliffhanger where the aliens come down. Oh, here’s the next hot reality star that comes in and takes their clothes off.” It was never about sensationalism. It was more about life. When Anna and I first talked about the show many years ago, one of the reasons [this reboot] was called “Walker,” not “Walker, Texas Ranger,” was because he’s a widow and a father who happens to be in law enforcement. It was an exploration of everything that life could have to offer — heartbreak, disappointment, shame, love, becoming an empty nester — and I’m worse than heartbroken that we are not going to get to explore all those storylines. 
You’ve developed a tradition, on both “Supernatural” and “Walker,” of being the one to deliver the news of a renewal or a cancellation to your cast and crew. How did that happen this time around?
Yes. I talked to David Stapf at CBS and Brad Schwartz at CW before the announcement was made. And when Brad and I were talking, he was wildly flattering of “Walker” and what we had done, and he has his directives as well. He asked me, “Hey, how would you feel if we release the news or if you release the news? Do you have a preference? You’re CW royalty. You’ve been here since Day 1. How do you want to do this?” I thought about it, and I was like, “You know what, man? I think it might be best if I go ahead and make the announcement.” He was like, “Cool. Just go ahead.” And I asked him, “Do you want me to send what I’m going to post to you first, or do you want me to just go and post it?” And he goes, “We know you. We love you. We trust you. You don’t need to double check it with me. Just go ahead and send it when you’re ready.”
It was not easy to see the keyboard on my phone through the tears in my eyes, but I was grateful that I was allowed to [do that]. So often, when these big announcements are made, it’s like, “OK, here’s what’s going to happen. Don’t say anything until 1 p.m. in three days because we haven’t called all the outlets yet.” It felt like a very human send-off to go, “OK, do what you need to say, and we will reiterate it.” It felt like a great part of the closure that I’m still seeking. 
Did The CW ever give you a reason for the cancellation? Did it come down to budgetary reasons? Do you know any of the particulars?
Yeah. I talked with the head of CBS and the head of Nexstar/CW, I talked with the other [executive producers] on “Walker,” and I think it was a multivariate kind of issue. My understanding is — and again, this is just what I’m told — that Nexstar is going in a different direction with The CW. I mean, they have an hour of “Trivial Pursuit” and an hour of “Scrabble” coming up. I don’t know why you wouldn’t just download the app or grab a board game and play with your friends, but they’re clearly just — what’s that great quote? It’s like, “If somebody tells you who they are, ask questions. If somebody shows you who they are, believe them.”
I feel like The CW that I was a part of last year is not The CW that I was a part of under [former chairman and CEO] Mark Pedowitz for that entire, almost 20-year stretch. They’re just changing the network around, where it’s not really going to be a TV network as much as it’s going to be, “Here’s something fun for an hour that you’ll never watch again, but hopefully you watch it. And it’s cheap!” And I hate to say that, but I’m just being honest. I mean, fuck it. They can’t fire me again. I’m just being brutally honest. I think it felt to me like they were looking for really easy, cheap content that they could fill up time with.
You’ve only had a few weeks to process the cancellation, but have you given any thought to what you will do next?
I left two days [after the cancellation was announced] to go to Europe for work and then for play. My wife and kids met me out there, and we took a little vacation that was already planned. It was strange, and it was both horrible and wonderful. It was horrible because I really wanted to grieve. I really wanted to sit there and grieve, and call my cast. But here I was, eight or 10 hours ahead of their time zone, and I couldn’t make a phone call to everybody I wanted to make. The texts would come in when I woke up in the morning, and I just wanted or needed a personal connection with everybody who I had worked with for so long. But it was great, because I had a lot of distractions.
But I haven’t taken a whole lot of time just yet to think about what’s next. I kind of said this at the end of “Supernatural”: I wasn’t interested in acting [again], per se. I do love producing. I love the production aspect, and I love the problem-solving that comes with it. So there are a few things that my wife and I are in the process of developing that I would love to produce and act in. But beyond that, I still feel like I haven’t grieved the loss of “Walker,” so I don’t know yet if I trust my feelings. That sounds like a cop-out. I’m so sorry.
No, that’s a totally valid answer, considering that you openly spoke about how you hoped “Walker” would last just as long as, if not longer than, “Supernatural.” It’s natural that you wouldn’t necessarily know where to go from here.
Yeah, I don’t want to disappear into the bushes by any means, but I kind of want to disappear into the bushes. But hopefully, at this point in my life, and much like Cordell realized at the end of Season 4, I need to take a good, long, hard look at my personal life and the time I spend with my family and my friends, and I need to stop being so aggressive and obsessed with work. I still want to work, but for now, you’ll find me in and out of the bushes, hanging out with family and seeing friends. If a project comes up and I don’t care about it, then money doesn’t matter. But if a project comes up and I love the story or there’s somebody I really want to work with, then all right, [I’ll do it].
One of the people that you presumably want to work with again is Eric Kripke, who already recruited your former “Supernatural” costar Jensen Ackles to star in his current show, “The Boys.” Now that your schedule has opened up, are you officially joining the final season of “The Boys”?
Well, I’ll say this: Kripke and I texted today. It’s not been written yet, but I think he was saying [the final season] doesn’t even film until 2025. So yeah, I’m going to go play in Kripke’s newest playground. I had a great time the first time around, so I’m sure I’ll have a great time here again. I love the show. I think it’s hilarious and exciting. But you were asking what my plans for the future were — and I love Jensen and Eric Kripke. Obviously, I’ll be indebted to [Kripke] and entangled with him forever. I met my wife because of him. I was Sam Winchester because of him. “Supernatural” happened because of him. So working with him on a show that I enjoy, I’m like, “Yeah, when do I fly out?” But I don’t think we would film until at least January. 
Your body of work has spanned so many genres, but is there a specific genre that you are looking to explore next?
I thought “Walker” was kind of a mixture of “Gilmore Girls” and “Supernatural.” It was a family show with excitement and stunts, and macro storylines married with the micro. You know what? There’s a script that I love, and if we can get it turned into something, then I’d love to be a part of it. It’s actually a sitcom, but not a slapstick or knee-slapping sitcom. It’s kind of like a family-esque sitcom. It could actually be an hourlong show that you’d kind of define as a sitcom.
One of the things I really enjoyed about “Walker” was the humor that I was able to try and bring to screen, because my characters on “Gilmore Girls” and “Supernatural” were more stoic and serious, and I am by nature a much goofier person than the characters I’d played for 20 years. It terrifies me, because I think I’m funny among friends, but I don’t think I’m a funny person. I just think I’m goofy.
I’d like to explore that. It’s scary. It’s something I haven’t done, and I think I’d be very intrigued. 
It seems very difficult for dramatic actors to make that transition to comedy.
It’s so difficult!
You’ve now starred in over 450 episodes of primetime network TV, which is no small feat. What is your biggest takeaway from the time you’ve spent on The WB and The CW? When you think back to your biggest aspirations when you began on “Gilmore Girls,” how did your dreams ultimately compare to your reality?
Yeah, it’s been a long time. I think there’s some form of the saying, “If I only knew then what I know now…” Oftentimes, [this is] such a cutthroat industry. I think I spent so long in my adult life trying to get to a point where I could live my life, where I felt comfortable, where I felt safe and secure. I love storytelling. I love storytellers. I love raconteurs. I love that friend we all have that can just talk for an hour, and you’re laughing, you’re crying, you’re interested, and you’re learning. I love being able to pretend to be one of those characters on screen.
But I think along the way, it feels like I really learned, “Hey, don’t work to earn. Work to learn.” And at some point in time, you’ve got to look in the mirror and go, “Hey, you’re working towards some ever-moving goalpost. Why don’t you try and enjoy it now?” I think that’s kind of where I sit now. We’re just about a month [removed] from the announcement that we weren’t picked up again, so it’s kind of funny how life imitates art, or art imitates life. What Cordell went through in the finale and what I’m going through now are mirrors. I’ll be 42 next month. Am I waiting until I’m 60 and I have 800 episodes of television or something? I have to live my life now. I’ve got a 12-year-old, a 10-year-old, and a 7-year-old. 
I think, ironically, in trying to tell somebody else’s story for so long, I’ve realized that my story has value too.
Variety
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coff-in · 5 months ago
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You know that last post about Andy being a reluctant sex maniac? It occurs to me if he really could just bust that hard on a daily basis, he'd probably like to experiment a little with it (maybe in a way that won't put someone in a hospital though). Say maybe you're stuck without food so he makes a, say, special bowl of clam chowder- extra thick and salty, just for you. (No you can't ask how he made it. It's a secret. Shut up. No don't share it with Ashley she can get something on her own.)
Then, by some miracle, you actually like it enough that you might try it again later, and he feels like just hearing that feedback gave his body the express command to refill right the fuck back up with enough for another few batches. Then, if he gets the food needed (probably from a more resourceful [reader] scrounging up some more ingredients) he starts putting it in other things he makes when nobody else is looking- the mayonnaise in your sandwich, the glazing of some rolls, the batter for some pancakes, a special protein shake- you think he's really on a roll with learning new recipes and getting some passion for the culinary arts during these rough days, but at the heart of it he's really just gotten addicted to the thought of filling you up with his jizz.
Somehow I think Ashley would do something similar- though she probably wouldn't be as good at hiding it or being too subtle. If it wouldn't be putting her cum into random things you and Andy had to eat, it'd be her bargaining a random neighbor off to a devil so she can lactate at will, then insisting on pouring you all a nice glass of milk for breakfast each day. And if she ever actually gets to know about Andrew and sees he's also doing funny shit with what you've been serving, she'd egg him on to go further and combine their "resources" to see what they can get away with, and ask for discreet lessons in cooking so she can feed you her own tainted dishes. And you'd be so, so incapable of just turning the two down, because as far as you know, hey, they made it for you! Poor, immature Ashley learned to make something nice from her sweet big brother just to make you happy! You wouldn't turn down a helping of special-made, sugar-glazed, extra-protein pancakes just because they taste a little off sometimes, would you?
notes from coff-in: reluctant sex maniac andrew my beloved <3 you guys don't understand the emotion i felt waking up at 6 o'clock in the morning and seeing that in my inbox. went through several stages of disgusted, amused, and horny. andrew must be tired slinging that huge log between his legs, having everyone tease him about that thick outline in his pants or the round bulge... he could hide it in me if he wants to
[gender neutral] reader-insert, NSFW
if [reader] was like me they'd eat anything edible without question. andrew hands them fucking extra creamy clam chowder and [reader]'s like "aw hell yeah, thanks :)" like NOO??? where tf did he get EXTRA CREAMY CLAM CHOWDER??? and why can't ashley eat any??? wouldn't question anything, just thankful to be eating something while stick in quarantine
the "mayo" sandwich is so funny for that fan service/horny potential because maybe andrew adds too much and when [reader] takes a bite, the mayo just squirts out the sandwich from the other end. they scoop it up with their fingers and then suck it, running their tongue over their fingers going "mmmh! it's kinda salty but it's tastes good!" andrew's watching [reader] eat with wide eyes and feels another batch weighing heavy in his balls, waiting to enter [reader]
i like to think that in this scenario that [reader] is good friends with andrew and ashley. yeah sometimes [reader]'s eyes wander towards andrew's uncomfortably, unreasonably big and needy endowments (never letting that go) but they still like andrew for the cynical english nerd that he is and ashley for the annoying and teasing girl that she is. i think that's how ashley came to think "yeah... i wanna feed them my fluids"
she'd be so teasing about it, hinting that it's "made with love" and it's a "family recipe" while they drink coffer made with her breast milk (maybe it's a breast milk tea for [reader] if they don't like coffee). it's a crazy thought seeing ashley standing over a dead body in the middle of a pentagram talking to a demonic entity "i want to be able to lactate" crazy...
andrew and ashley sneak around the kitchen so they could have their "cooking lessons" while [reader] is sleeping. i think [reader] would try to make them something in return, an honest and genuine attempt at a meal to say thank you to them "i know it's not as good as your food but i really appreciate you guys and the food you've been making me" it touches andrew and ashley's hearts
they get off to the idea of [reader] taking the "special ingredients" straight from the source :3
----
coff-in
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aquarius-cookie-jar · 5 months ago
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Right. I'mma just dump these ref sheets I made here because I'll be making some drawings with these guys, and I am bad at staying consistent within the design lmao.
I was inspired by these amazing designs, go check them out.
X || X || X.
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Ramble down here, where I try to explain the ""lore"" and my design choices:
So as mentioned above, the majority of the Dark Cacao kingdom is actually composed of kirins, mainly because Cacao was already a kirin in my older designs, and I wanted more of his citizens to match him. Maybe I'll draw the other Cacao NPCs mlp-ified and what I headcanon their species to be.
I ultimately decided to give Cacao a mane and replace his long hair with that. Ngl, I was always on the fence about Cacao and Choco's designs, but yeah, I think the mane works better than just getting rid of it. (Old design below).
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Btw, I dunno if I wanna give Cacao an actual crown, or just keep the additional horn things the leader of the kirins kinda have.
Dark Choco hasn't changed much, just in a different art style. I do however wanna say that he shaved off his mane out of shame and guilt for coming across the cursed sword not long after his banishment. Maybe when he and Cacao reconcile, he'll start to grow it out again, or maybe he'll keep it that way as a reminder of the past.
I actually drew (more like edited a screenshot) Caramel Arrow before, and she was originally just a pegasus, but honestly, the concept of hybrids and what they entail really intrigued me. I thought it would be fun if she were a hybrid kirin/pegasus.
Also, her horn doesn't exactly function, mainly because there's this headcanon I once came across a post that says faux alicorns do exist in the mlp canon. If you wanna know my full headcanon for this, feel free to shoot an ask, but to keep it short, for faux alicorns, either their wings are under developed, or their horn can't control the frequencies of magic that well or at all. Such is the case for Caramel Arrow. Though she has fully developed wings, she can't control magic with her horn, and if she tries to, it may cause a headache. But besides that, she's all fine and dandy.
Crunchy Chip, hm, I'd say when he was a little filly, he was found in the woods, either by Cacao, or Choco, and his horn was already broken by the time they came across him. When asked, the little guy said he was protecting the cream wolf pups from a monster, but he can't remember what else happened before he fell unconscious. As he grew older, his broken horn didn't really bother him anymore. He's adapted well, and picked up a thing or two about survival from his cream wolf pack.
Also, sidenote, the kirins' scales are actually very hard to dent, meaning their backs are usually safe from attacks. Crunchy once encountered... something when he was out on patrol, and he was out of commission for a week (to his incredible dismay + annoyance) because of how rare serious injuries to the kirins' backs occur.
Ah, Affogato. Actually, I really do like him as a character, I just tend to focus my attention towards the Celestia and Luna coded father-son duo a bit more. Oops. But anyway, I decided to make him a hybrid just like Carrow too, mainly to add both contrast and similarities between them. They're not too different, but their ideals and beliefs clash and cause conflict with one another, I just thought it was fitting. Also decided to give him a more elegant and curved horn design as a nod to his unicorn heritage. Unicorns in the Cacao kingdom (and maybe the Golden Cheese kingdom) have a curved horn, mainly because the east asian coded unicorns in the mlp canon have curved horns too, and I thought they looked beautiful. Affo is someone so elegant and refined in a land that's chaotic and holds danger everywhere.
And that's my unhinged thoughts for now. I think I'll design Licorice and the others next time, but no promises.
Anyway, thank you for reading.
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yoonavii · 1 year ago
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A healing encounter
Zoro x Reader (One shot)
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You had been training hard under Chopper’s guidance, learning the ropes as a new nurse for the Straw Hat crew. It was a role that held both excitement and responsibility, as you were not only healing wounds but also ensuring the well-being of the entire crew. One day, after a fierce battle with an enemy, the Straw Hats emerged victorious, but not without injuries. Zoro was among the wounded, and Chopper, busy attending to the others, tasked you with caring for his injuries.
As you approached Zoro, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. He was known for his toughness and his stern demeanor, and tending to his injuries felt like an important challenge. You focused on the task at hand, cleaning his wounds and gently dressing them. Zoro’s eyes were on you, observing your every move. You couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious under his gaze, even though you were used to tending to injuries.
Your fingers worked deftly, and Zoro’s stoic expression seemed to soften as you worked. He was surprised by how gentle and careful you were with him, not expecting such a gentle touch from someone who was training under Chopper. He found himself intrigued, his thoughts wandering as he watched you work. As you wrapped his body in bandages, Zoro’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “You know,” he said in his signature gruff voice, “I never thought getting injured could be this enjoyable.”
Your laughter bubbled up unexpectedly, a mixture of surprise and amusement. Zoro’s attempt at flirting had caught you off guard. “Is that so?” you replied with a playful grin, your own banter now coming into play. Zoro’s eyebrow quirked, clearly taken aback by your response. He hadn’t anticipated you to respond so boldly. Yet, he found himself liking it. His smirk widened into a genuine smile, and he said, “Well, you’ve got a way of making even bandages feel like a luxury.”
Your cheeks turned slightly pink at his compliment, and you decided to play along. “I’ll make sure to add that to my list of nursing techniques,” you quipped, a flirtatious glint in your eyes. Zoro chuckled, his guard lowering further. “You’re something else,” he remarked, genuinely enjoying the banter between you.
Encouraged by his response, you mustered up the courage to admit something you had been keeping to yourself. “You know, Zoro, I’ve been watching you too,” you confessed, your voice softer now. “And I’ve always thought you were pretty amazing.” Zoro’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by your confession. He had never expected such words from you. “Is that so?” he replied, a touch of curiosity in his voice.
“Yeah,” you said, your gaze meeting his. “And not just because of your strength, but because of the person you are. The way you protect the crew, the way you fight for what’s important to you… It’s really admirable.” Zoro’s expression softened, his usual tough exterior giving way to a hint of vulnerability. He had always been someone who kept his feelings close to his chest, but in this moment, your honesty had a way of breaking through his defenses. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice surprisingly gentle.
You smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest at his response. “Anytime, Zoro,” you said, finishing up the bandages and standing up. “If you ever need patching up again, you know where to find me.” Zoro nodded, his gaze lingering on you even as you walked away. As you left, he found himself reflecting on the unexpected encounter. Who would’ve thought that a simple task like tending to wounds could lead to such a candid exchange? Maybe there was more to this new nurse than met the eye.
And perhaps, just perhaps, this encounter was the start of something new for both of you.
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©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.
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fleetingvow · 2 years ago
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‘ DEAD WEIGHT .
Anthony Lockwood x Female Reader
SYNOPSIS. the reader’s skills got rusty and with anthony breathing down her neck all the time, well, things that were better off unsaid were spoken. that’s when four became three. ( 6.87k words )
CATEGORY. angst. slight enemies to lovers ( not completely lovers because i write and stick to slowburn. )
WARNINGS. anthony being a total dickwad. usage of profanities. off the timeline. netflix series based. usage of “y/n”. lots of parallelism in statement structures.
NOTE. characters are aged up. written in third person’s omniscient point of view. room add-up for plot purposes.
REMINDER. this fic is written and copyrighted by ©fleetingvow on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other platforms without my permission.
TAGS. @superpositvecloudshipper
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𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 shrouded in a misty veil. The room had turned bleary as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in her bathrobes. She closed her eyes and opened them again in a desperate attempt to regain her composure. When her feet led her to her room, she felt the pull stronger than what she had been feeling when she was washing up. Y/N gripped the doorknob and opened the door with a groan, and then there was a voice. A mere whisper to her ears.
“Help me!” She turned around, only to see no one but the pen she picked up from a previous home many months ago, mistaking it for the one Lockwood handed. It was surely just her imagination. They already contained the source from the previous mission, destroyed it even. George had done his research and there was only one soul that haunted the home. She was sure no other soul was left behind. Besides, Y/N made sure to set up a schedule to return the object to its rightful place.
However, just now . . . she felt as though it wasn’t just her presence that graced the room. Her eyes scanned her surroundings. There was no one, nothing. Why was it getting harder to breathe? The ringing, they were back again, but this time, it was higher in pitch and volume. She put both palms on her ears in order to block the noises, but it was too loud!
That was until she heard the knock on the door followed by the voice of someone more human, natural in his voice, “Prepare quickly, Y/N. We’re moving swiftly tonight, we have two missions!”
She didn’t respond. It didn’t seem like it mattered when his footsteps were already fading. The girl slowly ran her fingers through her damp hair, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. It was just her imagination — that ringing. But there was a protruding thought that maybe, there was something wrong with her, and she couldn’t place whatever it was.
Although, there was something far more important than that. She needed to be present for this other case. Y/N had been lacking for the past few days, and she was under the pressure of redeeming herself to prove something to Lockwood.
And she was going to prove it well.
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THAT HURT! God, it hurt so much! There was no other thing in her mind than how much it felt, causing electric shock through her body, wanting to rip her ears out to just. get it. to stop!
“Fuck!” Y/N exclaimed, losing her grip on her rapier therefore also failing to protect Lucy from the ghost that hovered before them. The clang of the blade on the floor only triggered a louder sound in her ears, putting her mind into shambles as she scrambled to the floor to regain possession of her weapon.
Before she could, however, Lockwood had already slain the ghost himself, buying them more time to pull themselves together. “Lucy!” Lockwood hurriedly rushed to her aid as she panted, refusing the help Anthony was offering.
“Y/N?” Lucy called, her voice combined with worry over the girl’s well-being. “Are you okay?”
It didn’t look like she was, but it was certainly better than before. The ringing had stopped, and what was left was an overcoming fear of when it will occur again. Her forehead was covere din beads of sweat, her mouth gasping for air, and clammy hands clutching the handle of her sword.
She had, in fact, once again failed to redeem herself. And what had she done? Make a complete fool out of herself to Lockwood who only looked at her with disappointment painted oh-so-vibrantly all over his face.
“I covered the source with the net!” George excitedly announced as he made his way into the bedroom where everyone was. It had been a rare occurence before that Lockwood allowed George to do this type of work, but since he’s proven himself to be the hero in most scenarios, he trusted him.
Y/N glanced up at George. She wasn’t mad at him. As a matter of fact, she was grateful for him, not just for containing the source, but also putting an end to the tension in the room. “Are you guys okay?” he proceeded to question.
She stood up from the floor and lowered her head before mumbling, “We’re fine.” She then walked past him swiftly and out of the room with shame as her feet led her to the gardens of the home.
“She’s definitely not fine,” George breathed out. Both of his companions looked at him in a questioning manner. He shrugged, “She’s been acting odd for the past few weeks - months, even. Am I the only one who noticed?”
“You’re always the one to notice something, George.” Lucy commented with a smile. Anthony did not appreciate the conversation, no matter how little. He’d much rather they didn’t talk at all.
“Stay here. I’ll talk to her,” Lockwood ordered. George and Lucy nodded followed by exchanged glances with subtle wide eyes. They knew it was not a good idea Lockwood would follow her, but what could be done? They just hoped he wouldn’t make an arrogant fool of himself again.
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“WHAT WAS that?” Y/N’s ears suddenly perked up from the voice. She plastered a sarcastic smile as she replied, “You found me, then.”
“This is no time for foolish remarks, Y/N. What was that all about? You had it. Lucy could have been hurt! You could have gotten hurt! Do you realise what you’ve just done?” Anthony exclaimed. The leaves crunched from under his feet as he marched his way forward to the girl.
“You’re saying that as if I’ve done it intentionally. Is that what you think I do? Sabotage the team?”
“I’m not saying that,” he frustratedly protested, facepalming before placing his hands on his hips, his coat pushed back. “What I’m saying is for you to pull yourself together. Where are you, really? This, this state of yours is going to get us all killed!”
“Lucy’s fine! I’m fine!”
“You both wouldn’t be if I hadn’t stepped in and you had made an absolute mockery of yourself in the situation! You were flailing! Can I even trust you with simple tasks?”
“You call fighting off a type two, simple?” She fired back, trying her best to hold back her anger when she knew she had fucked up.
“We’ve done it before! We’ve dealt with harder cases. What’s going so wrong now?”
“Of course you’d say that! Everything’s easy for you, right?” Lockwood was taken aback by her words, yet instead of processing her words and taking it as a reminder of his past conflicts, he took offence of it, triggering his sense of authority and anger. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you just work with yourself? If you’re so obsessed with perfection, why don’t you eliminate mistakes and put down the team? Because that’s you, right? You’re the one who’s always so bloody perfect at everything!”
His eyebrow twitched as he blinked at her, his face getting softer, yet still inconsiderate as he lifted his head to the side and clenched his jaw. Anthony momentarily fixed his gaze on the floor before placing it back to her. His voice had become monotonous. Cold.
“If you hate me so much, why don’t you just leave the team?”
There was a moment of silence. If the rapier didn’t pierce her heart before, it definitely has now, but it wasn’t the steel sword that did its damage. It was those exact words he had uttered so confidently in her face. There was no hint of regret there when she searched his eyes. There was absolute nothingness.
Suddenly, the coldness of the wind got into her eyes — did it really? Or was she just finding an excuse to mask the reason behind her slightly blurry eyes. Y/N blinked and swallowed her spit in order to remove the lump in her throat. It was useless. She nodded slightly, her face stiff as she tried to muster up her thoughts to create a better expression.
But there was no better reaction.
“What?” she asked for confirmation. Lockwood slightly shifted in his position, standing upright. He looked at her eyes and down to her shoes slightly, taking the sight of the disappointed girl. He swallowed his spit, licking his lips.
“You heard me.”
“So, that’s it then?” she mumbled, trying her best to disguise the betrayal in her voice.
“That’s it.” Anthony replied in a stern tone, not leaving her eyes. “Don’t be so surprised now, Y/N. If it helps you feel any better, maybe you could still start somewhere — just not here.”
“You’re a fucking dickwad, do you know that?!” She yelled.
“I’m doing this for the team.”
“Like shit you are!” She exasperatedly gesticulated her hands in the open air and continued, “You think George and Lucy would fucking applaud you after they find out? I thought we were family! What now? I fuck up, and suddenly I’m gone for good?”
“You could just say n—”
“No, because that’s not it, isn’t it?” She bitterly interjected and combed her fingers through her hair irately. “You’ve hated me from the start! You ignore me every chance you get, but when you’re not, you berate me! You look at me as if I’m about to fail, and you undermine me every single time!”
“I don’t undermine you. I look at you, and I see transitions of how things start and how things end,” he started, chest heaving up and down from his bottled feelings of anguish and rage, not to her but to himself. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes me doubt whatever it is I doubt. You were good at what you do, but you’ve been lost for the past few months. We don’t have a hold of you now, and you’re not telling us anything. To be completely blunt and forward, Y/N: Whenever you’re present in a case, something goes wrong.”
Even to herself, she could admit that he had a point. Every mission that she had with her friends, everything ends up a little bit too complicated than it should. She did feel like she was the cause for the performance of the agency lately. That information itself made her heart sink at the bottom of the pit, pushing her to another depth as he spoke once again.
“You’re a dead weight.”
That statement felt a little hypnotic that it proceeded to ring in her head. Now that was it, why did she feel defeated now? She felt as if he just called her useless. Huh, maybe that’s what she was. Completely and utterly useless for the best agency London has ever seen. She was the dead weight in their group, the failure.
“I just haven’t been myself. I—” Then, there was a silver streak of water that cascaded down her face. She cleared her throat and looked away, wiping the tear with the back of her hand as she sniffled and blinked away the glinting waterfall threatening to spill. “I’m sorry.”
Anthony’s chest felt different with that statement. His eyes that showed no remorse softened at this current sight of her, but there was something at that moment that told him to resist it. He had to stand firm, and he knew to himself he’d do just about anything for the sake of the team, even if it had to be removing Y/N from it.
The thought of questioning whether this decision was right began to rebuke him.
“Y/N, I’m only doing this for the best of everyone’s well-being.”
“You already said that,” she replied and took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with him. Then, she shrugged her shoulders and laughed to herself in bitter humour. She unsheathed the rapier from her side and took a few steps forward to the boy who gave her a puzzled look.
She took his hand and offered the handle of her blade, closing his palm with hers. Y/N forced a smile on her lips, looking up to meet his eyes. They were close.
Just. This. Close.
Y/N had seen his eyes numerous times before, but under whatever spell, she never got tired of it even despite the sharp daggers it threw at her. Her heart shattered once more, this soft gaze she’d sometimes thought was an illusion made the broken shards leap hopelessly that it left her dizzy for another minute or so.
The wind in the garden gently whispered.
Anthony felt this feeling before, but he dismissed it just like he’d always done. It was something that he believed to be unworthy of his attention. If he looked the other way, what of the path that he worked so hard for?
“Y/N, I—”
“I’ll be gone by morning. Don’t tell the others . . . for me please, would you, Lockwood?” She whispered. Goddamn it, she was going to go! Anthony couldn’t do anything. His body and soul were both locked in the position of looking at her, paralysed as he tried his best to catch his breath. His eyes quickly paid a glance to her lips before switching back to her eyes.
He hummed in response.
There was a palpable tension in such an open space. The girl decided to have had enough of it, leisurely stepped away without breaking eye contact, and walked off with his head turned to watch her figure fade away with the distance.
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SHE SAID SHE’D be gone by morning. It was 3 AM, and he wasn’t sure what morning she was referring to, but surely she’d use more time for rest and packing her things. It wouldn’t be so early. He paced back and forth, almost creating a six feet deep grave of his own in front of her door, his hands secured in his pockets. His furrowed eyebrows almost reached each other to knit a whole line on his face, but he soon stopped with a sharp exhale.
Anthony realised how wrong he might have been. The fact that both Lucy and George don't know anything made him feel even more guilty knowing damn well they would have his head and ego once they learn of what he did. Not only that, he felt incessantly bad for being cruel with his choice of words without consideration to what Y/N’s explanation could offer. To be completely honest, he wasn’t even thinking straight! He had no clue where the idea of eliminating her from the team came from.
His mind hadn't been at peace nor was it sober in his library when they got back home. Y/N shut herself in her room after an awkward dinner in which they both pretended everything went well. Lucy and George, bless their poor naive innocent souls, seemed to buy it with Lucy feeling a little bit hesitant.
It was 3 AM, and he was at her door.
At her door.
His hand slightly lifted to knock her door, but it stopped mid-air. Lockwood sighed, pulling his hand back in his pocket with a shake of the head. He’d been horrible, and disturbing Y/N’s peace no matter how fleeting, would be more displeasing.
Anthony’s footsteps faded with Y/N listening intently behind the door, wiping her silent tears. He was outside her door for half an hour during her moment where she wrote her letters individually to the members of the team. She didn’t want to open the door, but her desire to speak to him drove her to a decision that if he knocked, she would let him in. If he asked that she returned, she would.
But alas, he didn’t do any of those, leaving her to conclude that his decision was final, and his words were deeply meant and intended. It was her fault, after all.
And maybe the agency would be better off without a dead weight.
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WHEN MORNING CAME, Anthony was jolted awake when George shook him back to consciousness in the library lit with the sunshine pouring through the window. As soon as he fluttered his eyes open and saw the light with George’s frantic silhouette, it had been a clear indication that he was too late.
“Y/N’s gone!”
There was an unpleasant sensation in his stomach, bad butterflies taking control over his system. He quickly sat up and ignored the pounding headache he gained overnight. Anthony turned to George, “Since when?”
“I don’t know. Lucy called her for breakfast but she didn’t answer. She never didn’t answer! So we went up there to check, but all her things were gone.”
He got to his feet and went straight to Y/N’s provided room where all traces of her existence were never found, except for the envelopes clutched in Lucy’s trembling hands. Her face wasn’t warm and welcoming at all as she furiously questioned, “What did you do?!”
“She’s left the agency!” Lucy exclaimed.
“Why?” George asked in response.
“Ask Lockwood. Apparently, he’s the one who talked to her last night after the mission.”
“What are those?” Karim gestured towards the envelopes Lucy had. She raised the letters with their names engraved in jet black ink.
“See for yourself,” she answered and shoved each of the letters to the designated receivers. The girl then furiously marched out of the room, leaving behind both George and Anthony to themselves. Karim opened the correspondence and trailed his eyes along the letters scribbled on the tear stained paper, his face growing bitter word for word as he finished.
The boy turned to his companion, “You’re unbelievable.”
Lockwood wore the same frown he wore in front of her door a couple of hours ago. George left him in the room to self-reflect between the four walls of nothingness but the lingering memories of who used to occupy it.
He looked at the letter, opening it as he scanned the wirds carefully written yet stained with tears that dried on the ink that spread on the fibres of the paper.
“Anthony,
I didn’t tell them, if that’s what you’re worried about, but I’m not sure if my explanations will suffice. I know Lucy and George are smarter than you give them credit for. Whatever happens, I want you to continue the agency with them. They’re your only family left.
I loved the memories with you and the others and I will continue to treasure them until it’s my prized possession that you will have to seek one day. I hated you for a while, and maybe I hate you now, but there’s nothing but the truth that you make a great leader, and I hope your passion will lead them to the path they want, and their loyalty will not banish even after eternity.
For a while, Lockwood, your home had been my home. Our home, but after tonight, it seems as though you gave the key to the wrong person. I hope you will find a better one worthy of the team.
Do not look for me. I will find a good place to find myself and start again and recover. And once I recover, I swear to George and Lucy, I will write. Take care of them.
I’m sorry,
Y/N.”
He wanted to crumple that letter, but that’s all he had of her. Each passing second that he stared at the empty room made him feel guiltier and guiltier. The blood in his veins rushed as he turned crimson with rage. Anthony had never been one to lose composure of himself, especially when he was angry, but it was different this time.
He knew to himself that he blew it. He had fucked up and now he was not the only one that was paying. Because of his arrogance, the house lacked Y/N’s annoying laughter, her awkward morning small talks and idle chatter, the familiar creaks on the wooden stairs because of how loud her feet become when she’s excited for a new case.
Her seat remained empty, devoid of the girl's presence. Her favourite cup had been set before the chair without any mark or stain of the hues she usually wore on her lips. The smell of coffee George brewed earlier for her wafted in a room, serving as an object to rub it in their nose of the bitter tension she’d left behind in that very room.
Lockwood cleared his throat, “Our next mission, er.”
Lucy’s scoff caught his eye, “Give us a break, Lockwood.” She put her mug down, her eyes piercing through his, speaking, “When will you ever learn to not only care about yourself?”
“Lucy, not now.”
“Yes, now.” George intervened. “No one knows why Y/N left, except you. Her family wouldn’t want her back even if she writes that on her Christmas list. You know it to yourself too, that’s a dumb excuse.”
“She left the agency because she made her choice,” Anthony monotonously replied, and quickly regretted it as he sighed and spoke again in a much gentler, more emotion-filled voice, “It was the best for us all.”
“Did she make that choice, or did you? No wonder she left.” Lucy mumbled as she was not having any of it. She slammed her feet on the floor and stood up to leave the kitchen with George leisurely following behind.
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Y/N TOOK IN THE rotten interior of the home. Everything was mouldy and abandoned. It was an odd thing, for sure. The house was supposed to be sold months ago! Why was it deprived of human presence? Something was not right, especially with that voice slowly creeping in her ears again.
She wasn’t alone in that place.
“Help me,” she heard. There was a guess there. A guess she’d been doubting for weeks but knew to be believed by her subconsciousness. The girl grabbed the pen from her pocket and sighed, closing her eyes to allow itself to commune with her.
“What do you want me to do?” She questioned.
It was a bad idea, but it was daylight. The power of this type of entity, whatever it is, should be weak by now. Y/N felt herself being pulled in a deep void, forcing all her energy to go down with the force. It was her mind that felt lightweight and then her body with static. All sounds from her surroundings started to become collectively like the sound of electric waves until it was an absolute nothingness.
Just then, an ornate box appeared among the fog, its gold embellishments covered in crimson hues, dripping on the now visible desk. The event happened so fast, and what was once a flurry of foggy mess was now a warm room lit with glinting candle lights from above the ceiling before it turned into a ghost of the olden times. The doors were being pounded from the other side, followed by voices who furiously shouted a name.The girl looked around to see a cadaver on the floor, severely tortured and bloodied. Then, she looked at herself, taking note of how her hands were covered in the same liquid as on the floor.
“What happened here?” she whispered to herself in a frantic tremble.
“Give us the box!”
She looked at the object now in her hands. Every inch of her appearance had changed into someone else, feeling their sense of determination to hide and clutch the treasure in her possession. She turned frantically to look for a way out, but just as she was about to run for it, the door burst open and there came three men, one with a pen in his hand.
“You’ve signed the agreement my father’s given you!” She didn’t know why or how, but it must have been the ghost that kept haunting her that said it.
“Will it matter any longer?”
Just as she screamed, the world had turned into a fading vision. Y/N woke up with a gasp, finding herself on the floor with the piles of stones and rubbles, debris from the structure of what once was a home of an aristocrat. There it was again, that ringing. The girl groaned from the consistent hearing disturbance.
She stood up, only to find herself in an entirely different room. Her eyes made a quick scan of the structure. That was when she found an unusual glint inside the crack on the floor. “So that’s why.”
The death glows would have been seen by Lockwood before, but he didn’t, only because the home had been renovated long before it got destroyed again. The floor had been covered by another layer of floor.
Then, a glint caught her eye, the moonshine had reflected its light where she saw the intricate box. Quickly, she crawled over to it and pulled it out of the crack with force. The box was the same as before, only old and rusty. The surface was covered in dust and old traces of blood.
The ringing stopped, replaced by a series of the hushed voices of a woman. Y/N flailed side by side, falling on her knees as she crawled to grab ahold of the intricate box covered in dust and other filthy muck. “What is this for? What should I do?”
That’s when she realised the sun had finally set and she was in deeper trouble than she was. A glowing light appeared behind the door frame as it continued to hide. Her breath hitched, grabbing ahold of the rapier she managed to steal from Anthony’s library.
“I will help you! You’ve tormented me enough,” she mumbled, holding the rapier up as a barricade between her and the ghost.
The ghost let out a deafening shriek as it frowned at her, hovering through the air before her eyes.
“I promise!” Y/N exclaimed. “Just let me help you!”
However, it was not easy making deals with a dead-undead visitor made up of ectoplasm and substantial despair and anger toward the living. The ghost charged forward, making her lucky enough to move out of the way. She yielded the sword, and the luck of the draw struck again when she managed to hit the visitor with her iron blade, buying her more time.
The girl opened the box, revealing a pile of papers and an old silver pocket watch eaten away by old age and exposure to oxygen and insects that created their own home within the chest. The cobwebs were occupied by several tiny eight-legged creatures causing her to cringe as she dropped the box and shook the spiders off.
Upon the contact of the crate with the floor, a glowing spot appeared.
She looked at the ghost of the woman that haunted her. It stopped mid-air for a while before continuing with her new entertainment of tormenting the girl more. Y/N’s eyes widened at a sudden realisation.
That was it!
For the first time in a long time, she finally felt like she wasn’t being an absolutely bloody idiot. “I have to destroy it, don’t I? For you to find your peace, is that it?”
That was when she frowned and muttered under her breath, “But that’s not your source.”
Then, her ego was kicked off the curb with her guts. A hand reached out from the glowing spot on the floor. “That’s someone else’s source!” She raised her rapier and quickly wielded it to hit the box, preventing the ghost from coming out of it.
The first visitor shrieked again and charged forward as Y/N fumbled on the floor, miserably looking for the pen. Her breathing was audibly fast, waving her sword desperately through the air to ward off the ghost that had been restless in chasing after her.
She scanned the cracks, there was nothing. Then, under the desk, nothing. That’s when she noticed the object she sought right next to an empty cobwebbed shelf on the floor next to a book.
Y/N removed her sword out of the way, darting towards the pen to grab ahold of it, quickly swerving to get rid of the visitor. After that, she hit the box again and once the glow disappeared, her fingers found themselves holding onto the chest for dear life. She put the smaller object in it, and placed it between her side and arm, her other lifting the rapier up.
Dumb! Literally dumb!
Her foot got caught in a lifted crack on the floor, causing her to plant herself on the floor. A groan emitted from her lips as she tried to ease the pain on her chest. Upon realisation, she swiftly turned and held her sword up, fighting the phantom.
“My ears hurt from your constant shrieking!” she yelled.
Due to the movement of her arms, the box had slightly drifted away from her clutch as she busied herself warding away her enemy. “I even wonder why it isn’t Lockwood that you could have bothered! You would have been at peace by now, but no. You chose the weakest link! I’m practically useless, and I might possibly be losing my talent! Now you’re the one who’s mad? I didn’t choose me! You’re the one who screwed up!”
Maybe she was the mad one, in different terms. She was talking to a ghost, for Chrysler’s sake! Even worse, having a verbal feud with it!
If only Lockwood could see her now.
That was until the ghost disappeared after a swift, almost invisible lightning speed strike. She gasped for air and turned around to see what the cause of it was, but no. What’s better is to destroy the sources and get peace once and for all. She sat up and crawled over to the object, grabbing a nearby rock and destroying it for good. The pained wailing finally died down as she loudly caught her breath, exhaustedly falling on her back with her sword clattering on the ground.
“L/N!”
That voice. That god-awful voice. She closed her eyes shut, unable to open them for a second due to her strong will to rest and recover. Look, now she was even hallucinating Lockwood calling her by her last name. It was impossible that he was there, and even if he was — she laughed slightly. He couldn’t be. If he was, she would tear the world apart just to get away from him. She wanted to be millions of miles away from him, avoiding his gaze, getting rid of his smell, and that stupid voice with that arrogant tone of his. He had crushed her dreams and hope like it was nothing, even with just a brief conversation, everything that she clung to in that agency faded in one statement that she wished she never heard from him.
But good riddance, right? At least now she knew it was the wrong agency for her. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of work.
“L/N.”
“Can voices just stop — ” she angrily mumbled, almost in a slur of words, “ — pestering me all the time? Can I just have peace for once? Is that too much to ask for?”
“If they stopped now, you wouldn’t hear what I have to say now, would you?” Now that was it. The girl’s peace had been completely shattered once and for all with that single question built in a rhetorical structure. Her eyebrows now knitted together — an exaggeration, but they almost did. Just a little smidge and they’d be meeting. It couldn’t possibly be him, could it? Her heart fluttered both bitterly and in a way that she hoped that there was hope, but knowing Anthony, he was only here as a figment of her hostile imagination. He wasn’t truly here. That would be asking for too much — only she didn’t ask anything to send him here.
“I’m sleep-deprived,” she muttered under her breath.
It took Lockwood his whole body and soul to stop himself from smiling. He thought he wouldn’t see her here, that she would be off somewhere else, and not the usual destination she would go to whenever she was upset.
A hallucination: that’s what he was to her as of this moment. She still had her eyes closed, refusing to open her eyes, and what was worse was the constant question whether she refused to see the disappointment of a world with Lockwood there or the opposite.
Then, that’s when she felt a gentle contact at the back of her neck, slowly lifting her from the ground. Panic covered her bones and took over the nerves to her brain as she mentally screamed repetitively.
She quickly opened her eyes to see him kneeling just before her, holding her as if she was a fragile glass compared to all that he's seen in his entire life in his basement.
He was there.
He was real.
He was touching her.
And he was — "Your hands are cold."
"I don't care, L/N."
There was something different. All the passionate hatred she had for him was slowly starting to well up in her chest, but being swallowed by a big flurry of adrenaline that made her blood flush in her veins faster.
It was his gaze. They'd changed into something atypical. Too . . . soft, and upon realisation, the double volume of her disdain started knocking her off again.
"No," she mumbled and quickly sat up, pushing him away from her as she scrambled to get her rapier and stand up. "You can't just come here and play the hero, and look at me like that! No!"
Confusion changed his expression, "I just helped you."
"Why do you do this to me?" Her voice has all but given up standing sturdy. She trembled both in excessive fatigue and strong emotions. "You can't just — just look at me like that after you made me feel like shit! And then what? You pity me, and you say sorry and things will go back to being shit again and the cycle continues? What do you think I am?"
"I—"
"You what? You're sorry? Why did you come here? To tell me worse things, that I'm hopeless or that maybe you're so noble that you just felt the need to help me get started with my life?"
Lockwood understood every bit of what she was saying. Her absence in that home has made him realise just how much of a cowardly bastard he was. How undeniably much of an asshole he had been to her and how much hell he'd pay. Her wrath was just the start of it.
But his understanding was growing weary. He knew in a way that Y/N had her wrongs too, "You never told us about the voices."
She halted. She really didn't have any other reason than she didn't want to appear weak and bother anyone. Besides, she doubted the existence of the voice. But there was no excuse.
"I wanted to figure things out on my own," she stated before turning to leave. Before she did though, he spoke.
"I look at you," he started as she stopped and slightly turned to her side but not completely enough to meet his eyes, "like this, not because I pity you, Y/N."
That was her name. Her first name.
"I look at you because I've been. Whenever you were unaware that I was looking. I've always seen you from the start, hence why when I said you reminded me of how things begin and end, it was because you were the first person to make me get up from my bed and the only person I want to see when the day ends. When I'm tired and weary." He then averted his gaze to the ground, "I looked at you like that earlier because I couldn't bear to look at anything else or see you in another state."
"I regret everything that I said, and I wanted you to know how hard it's been to look at your door and think that in the next few days, someone else or no one will occupy that room knowing that there were traces of you — any traces, just anything but physical. It's been torture, not just for me, but for both Lucy and George. So, I thought maybe you'd gone to the place you've been going to peculiarly for the past few months," he continued.
Indeed, he knew her, watched her, examined her.
Possibly even admired her. From afar. But he looked the other way, believed the other way because how could he afford that? How could he afford these feelings knowing he had nothing? He had himself, but he did not have anything stable that he could give her. Will that make her happy? Not at all.
"I'm sorry," he breathed out. "I know it's not enough, but I'm willing to prove to you how sorry I am. Just — I want you to know that I never intended things to be so bad and out of control, and I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but this isn't an excuse. I just want you to know that I regret everything."
"You are not a dead weight, Y/N. If anything, you're a breath of fresh air, and you make things easier every time one of us feels down. You make the mornings lighter, the end of every exhausting day a moment of opportunity to think about how thrilling life can be. You make the next days, weeks, months, and years something to look forward to. When you left, thinking about those future moments without you with us, it feels empty and terrible. A few hours without you had turned us into malfunctioning lunatics. We're in shambles — I'm in shambles. What more with days? The truth is, it's not you that's the problem. I keep causing you pain, and I'm trying to be better, because I want to be better for you. When the time comes that I do, I will try to be the best. You deserve that. It will take time, and that is why I'll understand if you don't want to return to the agency with me."
Come to think of it, as she observed his state, his Lockwood hair wasn't in its best today. His eyes looked tired and bloodshot. His always tidy flat clothes were wrinkly and his tie was out of place. He looked like he'd been through hell, and his next elaboration explained why.
"Thinking about you every now and then, especially now, I've always shifted in my seat, trying to decipher just how you affect me this much. When I found the possibility of how, I felt the sense to hide it. Every smile that you caused, I hid it all, because secretly I love bickering with you every chance we get, because I get to see the thrill in your eyes and the fire that you hide. I thought that maybe if I hated you, I would selfishly gain more feelings and learn to embrace the things I might possibly find distasteful if my feelings started the other way. And I did, I managed to admire everything you hated about yourself. You've made me feel things strong enough that whenever I run away, I still end up going back to you."
"Lockwood," she finally spoke and swivelled to face him completely. "Anthony."
"Yes?" He eagerly lifted his head to wait for her response.
She chuckled, "I thought you were about to recite Mr. Knightley when he was confessing to Emma."
That's when he laughed and nodded, accepting the fact that maybe he said too much that all she could reply was Jane Austen’s Emma joke, "Well, I have been told that I have a knack for paraphrasing."
"Do you mean all that?"
"The bickering part, most especially."
"Do you want us to bicker now?"
"I think we're already starting," he commented, which made them snicker.
"I'm sorry," she stated. Lockwood thought that was her way of telling him that it was too late. His heart was pierced by a shard of mirror which he failed to use earlier for self-reflection. That was when she smiled, "I just don't know what to say."
"You can start by accepting our job offer. We, er, have an open position looking for someone with a talent like yours," Anthony cheekily replied with a playful smile. "Our agency is one of the most prestigious agencies in London, and we ensure the safety and warm welcome — new addition, of our team, old and new. Do you accept, Y/N L/N?"
“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I think I’m losing my talent.”
“And you still managed to beat a type two with a frenemy in one night with a rapier, a pen, and a box?”
"You're a bloody idiot." She defeatedly let out a breath of joy and relief.
"I'm taking that as a yes. Come on, if you say yes, we'll bicker nonstop and you’ll get endless coffee privileges."
"You're a bloody idiot." She defeatedly let out a breath of joy and relief.
“Just so we could hate each other again, and be able to speak about our fondness more.” offered his hand for her to take. She leisurely took it, trying to ignore the warmth her hand provided to his cold one. He was holding her. Touching her, when a few hours ago, he couldn’t even as much as lay a finger on her.
And when they got back home, the block had been covered with missing posters of Y/N, with additional apology notes and “Lockwood sucks!” extras. That was true.
610 notes · View notes
oftenwantedafton · 5 months ago
Text
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the new hire | steve raglan x female reader
rating | explicit
part 5/?
words | 5k
cw | dom/sub, oral sex
ao3 link
Three more nights at Freddy’s.
Three uneventful evenings, three boring shifts where you sit and stare at the monitors in the security office and see nothing unusual. You know you should feel grateful that there are no intruders. No sign of the rabbit.
No sign of Steve Raglan, either. It still hasn’t occurred to you that those two might be linked. For now, they are separate phenomena.
Friday morning you return home from work and shower and lie in bed, willing your eyes to shut. Sleep is still evading you, even though you’re tired. Your phone rings and it startles you. You rarely got calls. You have no friends. Few living relatives, and those few don’t care to contact you.
You answer and you know, before he even speaks, that it’s Steve on the other end of the line.
“Hello?”
“Hello. It’s me. Just checking in,” he says, using that same deceptively cheerful tone he’d had when you’d first met in his office. “Doesn’t sound like I’ve woken you up.” You doubt he’d feel remorse if he had. “How have things been going at Freddy’s?”
You sit up, your fingers fussing with the comforter. You can’t imagine he’d call just to shoot the breeze. So what did he want now? “Everything has been quiet.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Listen, you’ll need to swing by the office to collect your wages today. I am booked solid for the weekend and won’t be able to stop by like I did last time.”
“Um…okay.” You wonder what’s going to be keeping the social worker so occupied. Of course it’s none of your business, but still. The lack of attention you’ve received these last few nights has been unpleasant. Even Raglan’s strange company is better than none.
You squint at the alarm clock beside the bed. It’s not even nine yet. “I guess I could just head on over now.” You fling the blanket back, preparing to slide out of bed.
“No, that won’t do. I’ve got a full schedule of clients to see today, and you need to get some rest before your shift tonight. Can’t expect you to function properly without it. It’s really best if you came later. Say, around six?”
You can’t imagine that it will be that big of a deal to hand you cash. That should take all of several seconds. But of course he’s going to make this complicated. “Doesn’t the office close at five?”
The friendly tone slips a bit. He doesn’t like being questioned like this. You know it. You know better than to argue. You wonder if you don’t secretly enjoy bringing out the darker side of him. Spread over his lap. God, you’d been absolutely soaked…“Yes, it does. Which is why you’ll be arriving after hours. I’ll be getting caught up on paperwork until then.”
“How am I going to get into the office?”
A heavy, exasperated sigh. “I’ll let you in, obviously. Be prompt. I’m not going to stand at the door waiting forever.”
“Okay. I’ll be there at six.”
“Excellent. See you then. Sweet dreams,” he adds, and those two rough words make you feel warm and aching all over again.
***
If you have any sweet dreams, you don’t recall them.
You debate about getting dressed for work before heading back to the DSS office. You’ll have several hours to kill. Maybe you could come back home and squeak in another nap. In the end, you decide to wear something casual. It’s not like you were going for a job interview. You’re not trying to impress Steve.
Except that’s not entirely true, is it? Because you spend a little longer getting ready, making sure your appearance is tidy, applying light makeup and body spray and earrings. You choose a v neck tee that clings to your figure, draped over dark wash jeans and you tell yourself, as you look in the mirror, that you are strictly going there to collect your pay, and that is all. There’s no reason to expect anything else might happen.
You hate how you have butterflies in your stomach. You hate that you’re so eager to see the older man, so eager to please him. By the time you leave your apartment, your anxiety is through the roof.
There are still cars in the parking lot when you arrive, so apparently the social worker isn’t the only straggler in the building. Not a lot, though; it was Friday night, after all.
The entrance to the office is framed in glass. You can see the tall man waiting for you on the other side, arms folded. You check your watch. You’re on time. A little early, even. Which meant he’d been waiting early, too. Anticipating…what, you don’t know.
There’s a bruise on your hip from your last encounter with this man; a bruise on your soul and you don’t know which is worse, the physical harm or the emotional manipulation. Why do you crave him so much?
Raglan opens the door once you reach it, the narrow wedge you’re allotted no longer surprising you. You brush past him, eyes downcast, that brief touch of his body against yours like lighting a match, heat blooming. You hear the snap of the door being locked behind you and then without a word he begins walking down the hall, leaving you to catch up.
When you reach Steve’s office he shuts the door behind you. He could have already handed to the cash and been done with you. So why bring you here? Why shut that solid wood barrier?
He drops into the leather chair behind the desk, much as he had in the cloth one in the security office, with that same careless abandon. The seat rotates back and forth and you wonder if he ever just spins around like a child would, just for fun. There are little details in the room that you hadn’t noticed the first time you’d been here. The many framed awards lining the walls. The wire rabbit with its slotted ribs to organize and tuck mail into. A map of the local district and some generic looking nature scene that was probably mass produced, something the company had provided. There’s an eyeglass case and some change and a set of car keys on the desk, the rabbit’s foot now a familiar sight. A lot of keys on that ring. Some of them for Freddy’s, most likely.
Raglan runs his index and middle fingers over his moustache, then strokes the facial hair covering his chin. Whiter there than other places. He looks at you like he might a puzzle piece, trying to discern where you fit in, which way he needs to align you to make you slot properly into whatever grand design he’s orchestrating; his secret, meant for none but him alone to enjoy.
The money is curled in his other fist. You notice it now, when he relaxes his grip and reveals it. You imagine it is warm from his body heat. He stretches the arm out and you walk towards it. His wrist turns and the bills land in a pile on the carpet. You descend to your knees, reaching again, but his foot shifts and swiftly covers the currency, leaving your fingers empty. Your lashes lift and you see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Your hand curls around his calf. You press your lips to the inside of one knee. His breath hitches.
You stare up at him. Still wrapped around one leg, still watching him warily. Wanting. Waiting. His hand reaches for your face, fingers curling under your chin. Thumb spread over your lips and then speared between, pushing past your lips and teeth and stopping when he’s nestled against your tongue. Your eyes linked as you suck that digit, curling around it with the wet muscle and stroking, clutching it against your palate, feeling creases and whorls, joint and nail bed. Discovering the taste of the currency he’d clutched, that odd metallic flavor sunk into cotton and linen blended threads.
It’s not enough, you want to taste more of him, reaching for the button fastening his shirt sleeve. A small alarmed sound when you succeed, catching another glimpse of that pink scar you thought you’d seen during your interview. Was he ashamed of it? You don’t mind it, tongue darting out to lick along the pulse there, and the sound he makes, that deep groan, echoes in your core.
“Stand up.”
Your mouth abandons his skin. You frown a question at the older man. You’d thought he wanted you at his feet, on the floor, between his legs, worshipping at what dwells at the apex of them.
“Up,” he grates again, and you hastily comply.
“Why didn’t you wear something easier to remove?” The chair creaks as he leans forward, fingers at the button fly of your denim. “Surely you had some inkling…” The zipper is yanked down and his fingers curl around the waistband, dragging the jeans down until they’re resting midway across your thighs. “The scent of your depraved fantasies…oh.” A little huff of surprise when he shoves the hem of your shirt up and you scramble to hold it out of the way—why had you worn something so awkward, honestly—and he sees the discoloration he’s left. The ecchymosis has faded a bit, shifting from dark blue and purple to a fainter shade of maroon. He strokes over that bruised patch of flesh with a soft caress, completely ignoring the lace panties you’ve chosen to wear (yes, you’d had an inkling, as he’d called it, hopeful and lusting but you don’t want to admit it, not to yourself nor to him) keeping his attention solely focused on that injury he’d previously inflicted.
Then he kisses the spot and you think you might just die then, just spontaneously combust, because it’s so awkwardly tender and so near the area you really want his mouth at, feeling that brush of facial hair stroking your mound, between your thighs. He pulls at the damaged skin with his mouth, sucking, and a fresh sting erupts there while his fingers curl around and knead one cheek, another reminder of where he’s been before, meting punishment to balance the pleasure he’s about to gift you now.
The crotch of your panties is dragged to one side—a tight strain, the fabric isn’t very giving—wedging against your groin, digging into the crease while his tongue delves over the exposed pink flesh, the tip curling and thrusting between legs you wish you could part better, but you’re restricted by those stupid jeans you’d decided to wear that he clearly has no intention of removing further. So you stand on legs that are already trembling like a newborn foal’s, this older man seated in front of you with his nose digging into your mound and his tongue trying to collect whatever essence it can, scraping and prodding while the beard you’d imagined to be coarse and abrasive is instead a soft textured brush that only heightens everything. His glasses are knocked askew and you pull them off with your free hand, setting them on the desk beside you, the other still occupied with keeping the hem of your shirt out of the social worker’s way, letting you see the glory of him ravaging your cunt even in this limited fashion and it’s the single most erotic thing you’ve ever seen or felt in your life.
You’re touching his hair now, sifting through the layers, and you realize it is many, many colors, not simply gray and white but every shade in between, silky ribbons shading from dark to light, stormy sky to bright daybreak. The fervor with which he consumes you only intensifies, sending your hurtling through the path of ultimate bliss, your twitching bud finally surrendering to the relentless lashes of Steve’s tongue. You cum in his mouth and you hear the strangled inhale through his nostrils, your body mashed against his face, the fingers on his head cupping and shoving him closer and closer. A hum of sound and the hand on your ass tightens and the hypersensitivity that makes you want to recoil and push him back for respite transcends into something else. He’s got you there again, right on the brink, and you bite your tongue to stifle the wail when you climax a second time, still unsure if anyone else is left in the office to hear you.
Raglan eventually moves away, slouching against the back of the leather chair, looking disheveled and this, this is what you had envisioned when you’d called him, asking him to come to the restaurant that night. Climbing out of bed, hair tousled, clothes rumpled, that careful, neat appearance suddenly wild and raw and natural. You’re still trembling, still caught in the turbulent throes post orgasm, managing to lean over and capture his lips and he allows it, allows you to smooth back the slightly curled lock of hair that’s descended across his forehead, lap at the damp mouth that tastes familiar, like your own sex, while you reach down for his crotch and find him hard and straining.
Your descent to your knees is less than graceful—your thighs are still effectively shackled—but you manage the task, just as you manage to open his fly and shove the waistband of his briefs down. There is a lot there for your mouth, for your throat; daunting, but you’re determined. You want to take this man apart, enjoying this sudden shift in power, where he’s allowing you to direct the course of every action. You tease a few licks before you properly take his cock in your mouth and suck and the noise this elicits is one you know you’re going to savor again later, when you’re alone and you remember this, a backdrop for self pleasure. It’s a needy sort of whimper, a surprised sort of pleading sound. You can feel the tremors wracking his thighs already. He’s not going to last long. Your mouth is as relentless as his own had been, working up and down, straining with a lewd, wet slap each time he collides further and further back. He spills so deeply in your throat you don’t even taste it at first, until the pulsing head rests on the base of your tongue, when he jerks your head back so he can see your depravity, blown pupils meeting blown pupils, white cum still staining your red mouth and that breathy little moan hummed through his lips betraying just how much he’d enjoyed it.
You swallow the rest of his load down—bitter, as you’d known it would be—and sit back on your heels, realizing the two of you are still panting, still struggling to recover. You watch him shove himself back into his pants and you take that as a signal that you’re to do the same, grabbing up the cash you can finally reach off the carpet—and damn if that doesn’t make you feel like more of a whore than collecting your wages at the diner ever had, like he’d insinuated—before you push yourself upright, shimmying back into your jeans after tugging the crotch of your panties back towards the middle where it belongs.
You have absolutely no idea what to do now. He had started this, whatever this was, and you’d finished it, and now you’re struggling not to feel used and empty. In the heat of the moment everything had been perfect, but now you want all of that stupid, sappy stuff that you believe should come after intimacy. You want cuddles and pillow talk and of course this is hardly the time or the place for that. This isn’t anything even remotely resembling something like that; it’s not a relationship, not anything really, just the release of pent up tension between the two of you, but you stare at his face and you crave those lips and you want his arms around you. You know he’s going to tell you to leave and you’ll do it because he told you to but you wish, for one silly little moment, that he’d request the opposite instead. Ask me to stay. Tell me you want more. I want more than this.
Raglan’s refastened his shirt sleeve and slid those ill fitting glasses back into place and he almost resembles his usual tidy self. Some of his hair is still mussed and your fingers itch to help straighten it (or better yet make it messier) but you resist the urge. It had been okay, before. You know it wouldn’t be now.
“I have to finish my work. You should try to take a nap before your shift.” His voice is quiet. He’s not meeting your eyes. You follow him out of his office. Everyone must be gone now. It’s dimly lit and quiet.
There are a million things you want to say as you wait for him to unlock the door. Instead you remain silent. You force yourself to walk away, knowing he’s watching every step you take.
***
You don’t sleep.
Can’t, not after what’s happened in the career counselor’s office. His mouth on you. Your mouth on him. Taking each other apart. Those memories alone are going to be enough to fuel your next rounds of self pleasure for a long time.
The first hour of your shift passes without incident.
Then you see movement on one of the screens. Not the rabbit. A human. Male. Dressed in dark clothing. It looks like he’s climbed in through some vent on the outside.
The security door is unlocked, as Steve had instructed. You’re already dialing his number, keeping a wary eye on the stranger. He’s brought a flashlight, shining the beam around. Thief? Thrill seeker? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
The phone keeps ringing. Come on, Steve. Nothing. You redial in case you’ve hit the wrong numbers, even though you’re certain they’d been correct. Even try the office, thinking maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk. No answer, just voicemail.
Police, then. You don’t have any other choice. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Surely pissing off Steve couldn’t be worse than letting this guy do whatever it was he was planning on doing.
You lift the receiver again and hear nothing. No dial tone. Complete silence. The phone is no longer working.
The threads of panic that had begun to squirm through you earlier now writhe, demanding attention. You don’t even have any kind of a weapon to defend yourself.
You should really lock the door. Again, Steve be damned.
You stand, intending to do just that. From the distance you hear the sound of glass shattering. Shit. Not just a casual explorer, then.
The lights go out.
You’d completely forgotten about the warning you’d been issued about how the electricity tended to be fickle. You normally just switch it on at the start of your shift and back off again before you leave. The office is completely dark. No more monitors. The emergency lighting in the hallway glows red. You’ll have to reset the breaker if you want full power restored. Which means leaving the office. That pitch dark room you no longer want to hide in.
Another crash. This sounded like something heavy. Metal striking another object. You’re still hovering in the open doorway. The switch for the power isn’t that far away. You could make it there and back again, surely. You take a step forward, your fingers still hooked around the doorframe. Another step. Now you hold only air. You keep walking. Your chest feels tight. It hurts trying to breathe so shallowly. You try to keep your tred light. It couldn’t be much farther. Just a few more steps. You think you can make out the shape of it, the box jutting out from the wall.
You’re not alone in the hallway.
The intruder has found his way here. He starts towards you and you jerk to a halt, taking a step back.
From the depths of the service room, the figure of the decaying rabbit animatronic emerges.
You don’t see the silver eyes. Its back is to you, facing the other man. You hear the sound of something striking the mascot, the clatter of that object as it hits the floor. The human male’s body is lifted and flung against the nearest wall. You can hear bones snapping.
You’ve lost your footing in your haste to back up. You scrabble backward on hands and feet, the soles of your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. You’re no longer trying to quiet your breathing. It comes and goes in a harsh, desperate whine. The rabbit’s bulk does nothing to slow it down. It’s right in front of you. Those strange glowing eyes focused on this vulnerable prey. You can hear it breathing, a dry, rusty sort of drag. There’s a roaring sound in your ears. It’s getting harder and harder to see, to focus. You’re blacking out. Darkness.
***
You awaken to feel something cool and wet being pressed against your forehead.
You blink rapidly, struggling to get your bearings. You’re no longer in the restaurant. You’re in a car. Steve Raglan’s car.
There’s a blue flashing light nearby. Police cruiser? You catch a glimpse of blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The young female officer gets behind the wheel of the vehicle and drives away, the tires screeching as she peels out of the parking lot.
“What…”
“You’re okay. Look at me.”
You try to focus on the social worker’s features. His hair looks a little damp. He’s still dressed in his office attire. “What happened?” You lick your lips. They’re so dry. You can barely get the words out.
“Someone broke into Freddy’s. The police just escorted them away.”
“I didn’t call them.”
“I know. I did.”
“I tried to call you. There was no answer. I even tried the office. Then the phone went dead.”
“The line was cut.”
“By that man?”
“Yes.”
“So how did you call the police?”
“I didn’t call from Freddy’s. I called the police as soon as there was no answer here. I knew something was wrong.”
“You’ve never called me at work.” You frown, shaking your head. Things still seemed fuzzy. You feel like you’re missing pieces of the puzzle. “What did that guy want, anyway?”
“That’s for the authorities to sort out.”
“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
Steve stares at you for long moments. “I was unavailable.”
“At midnight? What were you doing?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“I could have gotten hurt. Seriously hurt. You realize that, right? This is so asinine. You’ve got me guarding this place with no training, no weapons, you tell me just to call you when I need you, and when I needed you, you weren’t there.” The words spill out in a rush. Fear and anger, betrayal and hurt coursing through you.
“I apologize.”
“You apologize? No, that’s not good enough, that’s—” He cuts you off by leaning over to kiss you. Your brain short circuits instantly. Why does he always feel so good? “You can’t just do that and expect it to make everything okay,” you manage when you part for air.
“It makes it better though, doesn’t it?”
Kiss it and make it better, Daddy. Oh, fuck. How can you be thinking about sex at a time like this?
“Where did you find me?”
“The hallway in the back. Why?”
“The rabbit was there again. It was fighting with the man. I think it was trying to help me. Don’t tell me I didn’t see it. It was there. I heard it breathing.”
“The animatronics don’t breathe. They’re not alive.” His voice is surprisingly gentle and patient, as if he’s explaining to a child how the Easter bunny isn’t real.
“This one is,” you insist stubbornly. “You can think I’m delusional. I know what I saw. Something is happening here.”
The older man turns his attention to the steering wheel, reaching to turn the key in the ignition. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day, I think. I’m taking you home.”
“What? My shift isn’t over.” You look at the digital display that glows green on the vehicle’s dashboard. It’s barely two.
“You won’t be docked for not completing the shift.”
“I’m capable of driving myself home.”
“I’m taking you,” he repeats, the firm disciplinary tone taking hold once more.
“I don’t want to leave my car here.”
“No one is going to touch it. The police are keeping watch for the rest of the night in case the intruder had an accomplice. They’ll be doing frequent patrol sweeps to make certain.”
“There wasn’t anyone else. Just him.”
“That you saw, until the power went out and you lost the monitors.”
You fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of a comeback. “Do you ever sleep? How come you’re always so wide awake in the middle of the night?”
He glances over at you and smirks, flicking a finger over the tip of his nose before returning to view the road. It’s deserted at this hour. “Coffee. I tried to tell you.”
“It tastes awful.” You’ve never admitted it out loud before.
“I never said it doesn’t. It’s much like alcohol in that regard. It has to be tempered to make it palatable.”
“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” you realize out loud.
“I’m not taking you to your place. I’m taking you to mine.”
“Oh,” you say softly.
“Any more complaints?”
“No.” You stare hard out the window. You hadn’t been expecting this. Any of this. How was it possible for this man to keep disarming you at every turn?
“Good.”
A house. He lives in a house, you silently answer the question you’d wondered previously. Two stories. Two car garage that he neglects to use, pulling into the driveway. You realize suddenly you’ve never once asked if he was married or had children. You’d just assumed.
Just assumed he was alone and waiting for you to fall, quite literally, into his lap.
It seems like a big living space for one person, but you don’t dare question it. You follow him meekly inside. He tosses the keys onto a table by the door, flicking on the lightswitch and then turning the deadbolt.
So far today you’ve gotten eaten out in the career counselor’s office, sucked his dick, almost gotten hurt by a trespasser at your job, possibly rescued? by a monster rabbit that doesn’t really exist and now you were in said career counselor’s home. All in the span of less than twelve hours. Unbelievable.
“I’m sure you’re ready to knock out. The master bedroom’s up here,” he invites, ascending the nearby stairs.
“What, I’m not going to spend the night on the couch?”
“You’re getting awfully mouthy. I’m not certain I like this new brashness,” he tosses over his shoulder as he continues climbing the stairs.
“You liked the mouthiness earlier,” you mutter softly, thinking he won’t hear you.
“I can see I’ve been too lenient.”
Oh, he’d heard.
You both reach the top of the stairs and he leans, reaching around you to flip the hall lights back off. Suddenly you’re in the dark again. Listening to breathing.
His hand finds yours. You’re pulled into one of the nearby rooms and a lightswitch is flipped, partially alleviating the tense moment. You watch him rummage in a dresser for a shirt, tossing it at you and pointing as you hastily clutch it to your chest. “Bathroom’s that way. Get changed.”
As if you’d want to sleep in the security uniform, especially after being on the floor of the restaurant. You wouldn’t mind a bath or a shower but you think that’s asking for too much. You duck into the other room and quickly get changed. It’s just an undershirt, solid white. You stare at yourself in the mirror. What, exactly, are you doing? Spending the night at this man’s house. In his bed.
You run your tongue over your teeth. You want to brush them. “Hey, Steve, is there a spare toothbrush? I don’t want to rummage through your stuff.” You open the door to find him standing just outside. Your mouth goes dry again. Fuck, you want him so bad it hurts.
“Here.” He steps inside, crowding you slightly against the sink as he reaches to open the medicine cabinet, withdrawing what you’d requested. “Don’t squeeze the toothpaste in the middle. I hate that.”
You glance, bemused, at the tube with its neat, empty curl at the end. “What will happen if I do?” You murmur.
“Don’t tempt me.” His hand grazes your ass and then he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
You don’t spend too long cleaning your teeth. There’s too much want in you, want for what’s behind that closed door. You open it and find him waiting his turn, leaning against the wall. You discover the comforter and top sheet are now pulled back. Slate gray. Masculine. You have pastel pink at home. Full. Not a King size like this. Luxurious. How many thread count in these sheets? Your head sinks into the pillow. Perfect. Not too firm, not too soft.
Steve exits the bathroom. Watches you get comfortable. Sits on the other side of the mattress and reaches for the light. Darkness again. You hear the sounds of fabric shifting as he gets undressed. You wonder why he doesn’t want you seeing him bare. Are there more scars? The springs creak as he changes positions, standing again to remove his pants. Back down, now lying beside you.
Your face turns in his direction. Your heart is pounding. His arm reaches, dragging you against him. Spoons laid together. His breath by your ear. “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”
You don’t want to behave. You want to turn over and touch and taste. But you obey. You close your eyes and try to soothe your racing pulse. You concentrate on the crisp feel of the bed linens beneath you and Raglan’s warm arms around you and you find yourself enveloped in slumber.
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azu1as · 6 months ago
Text
dumb rotmhs fanfic idea where chung myung doesn't reincarnate and instead turns into a lost ghost on mount hua.
that is, until his spirit stumbles into yu iseol chasing after their lost plum blossoms technique that he begins to slowly regain his memories.
Got inspired by @dew-in-the-morning's tweet here!! You can also read the original fic thread :DD
»—————————–✄
yu iseol doesn't know who the one-armed stranger was. she had opted to ignore him when she first noticed his presence in the far distance upon arrival at the clearing. but he'd been observing her for almost two hours now, and it seemed as if he had no intentions to leave at all.
"come out." she tells the one-armed man, but frustratingly receives no response at all.
she makes a move towards him but he disappears within a blink.
a part of yu iseol becomes unsettled, but she decides to brush it off as nothing more than a one-off encounter.
she's quickly proven wrong.
the following night, she once again finds him in the same spot, facing her direction. it continues that way the next night until the next week. the man is consistently there and always leaves whenever yu iseol outwardly acknowledges his presence.
after almost two weeks of this occurring, yu iseol decides to stare just as intently at the man as he did at her sword.
she doesn't often feel conscious about how others perceived her, but something about the way the man's eyes visibly narrows when she swings or stabs her sword makes her every move feel like they were being scrutinized and dissected.
and that her results were unsatisfactory if the random clucks and tsks she hears off to the side whenever she overextends her swings were any indication.
the man's robes were clearly from mount hua. but she quickly realizes that what she initially thought were shadows on his garbs were actually dark blood stains.
then a sense of uneasiness washes over her when she notices that she could see the edges of a tree through him.
it seems that her nightly companion was some sort of supernatural entity.
she doesn't feel any true fear though because no amount of malice or resentment was ever turned her direction since she began seeing the man.
"who are you?" yu iseol finally asks.
but, as expected, the man disappears and she's left alone in the clearing.
%%%
"are there ghosts on mount hua?" yu iseol asks the sect leader much to his bemusement.
"perhaps." he replies to her after a beat passes. "what brought this on?"
yu iseol silently huffs at the admittedly lackluster reply, but responds politely, "i just saw something."
before she could turn away, the sect leader hums pensively and gently adds,
"maybe what you saw was the ghost of an ancestor watching over you."
clearly, it was intended to be an acknowledgement of her nightly sword training and visible efforts towards attaining mount hua's swordsmanship.
yu iseol, however, took the message quite differently.
that night, yu iseol lets out a breath and lowers her sword as she once again catches sight of the semi-translucent man observing her from behind a tree.
her attention zooms in on the bloodied embroidery of a plum blossom on his chest and the sword sheath strapped to his waist.
she steels herself as her eyes locks onto sharp, pink ones. she was certain that whoever this man had been, he was a strong swordsman with the way he held himself even in death.
and if the way he attentively observed her sword training was a potential indication....
"excuse me," yu iseol begins, fists clenched, "do you know how to make plum blossoms bloom?"
there was a long pause between them. for a moment, yu iseol worried that she was mistaken and that the spirit of this ancestor would disappear as he usually did.
but then the one-armed man steps forward for the first time into the clearing and replies by unsheathing his sword.
it glints against the moonlight despite its translucency and yu iseol knows that she couldn't miss the next moments no matter what.
the ghost of her ancestor holds it aloft in the air for a brief moment. And then he swings his sword into an arc.
in yu iseol's chest, the uncertain flicker of hope ignites into an unstoppable wildfire.
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