Tumgik
#like i can’t talk about the character without talking about what a terrible face they have
foxy-eva · 3 months
Text
Snow Angel
Tumblr media
Summary: Reader really knows how to get Spencer in a festive mood
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Fluff, Smut
Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) a hint at Spencer’s sad childhood, food mentions, heavy kissing, oral (fem receiving), handjob, unprotected penetrative sex
Author’s Note: This is my gift for @drgenius-reid ! I wrote it as a part of this year’s Criminal Minds gift exchange @cmgiftexchange
Word Count: 1.5k
Masterlist
Tumblr media
Spencer’s hand kept mine warm as we walked along a snow-covered path in the park. Seeing everything covered in a soft, white layer really got me in a festive mood, excited to have someone to spend the holidays with this year. 
“So, Christmas is in a few days. Do you have any plans?” I wondered while gently squeezing his hand. 
He turned his head to find my eyes as he cooed, “I was hoping to spend it with you.”
“I would really like that.” 
He smiled at me for a brief moment before he averted his eyes to look at the snow beneath his feet. After taking a deep breath, he asked, “Can I tell you something?” 
“Anything.”
Spencer stopped his movements to be able to fully look at me while he said, “Growing up in the desert with a sick mom, Christmas always felt like any other day to me. I never understood what people meant when they talked about how magical this time of year is. That was until I met you. I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas with you.”
I placed my arms around his neck to find his lips in a chaste kiss before whispering, “I love you.” 
His breath felt hot against my face when he breathed, “I love you, too.” 
It was then that I decided to make it my mission to show him how magical Christmas could be. There was so much about this time of year that he probably never got to experience and I was adamant to change that. 
“Let’s make snow angels!” I chirped and was met with a surprised look. 
“What?” 
Without further explanation I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the ground with me. He watched my motions for a moment before he lay down in the snow himself, mirroring what I was doing. We both couldn’t hold back the fit of laughter falling from our lips. 
When we got up from the ground, we took a moment to admire two perfect snow angels before rushing back to my apartment. Spencer’s cheeks were rosy when we got back into the comfort of my home, signaling that he was just as cold as I was. 
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the cold,” he muttered as he took off his damp coat. 
“I know a way to warm you up,” I told him. “Why don’t you take a blanket and wait for me on the couch.” 
When I returned to him with a mug of hot cocoa, he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “I thought you had had something else in mind.”
“Naughty boy!” I laughed as I sat down beside him. “Don’t you know that Santa only brings presents to good boys?” 
He just shrugged as he took the mug and said, “I’m okay with that, I already have everything I could wish for.”
I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before I turned on the TV to put on the corniest Christmas romcom I could find. 
“Snow angels - check! Next on my agenda to experience the Christmas spirit are hot cocoa and terrible Christmas movies,” I announced. 
Spencer playfully rolled his eyes but I knew that he was enjoying my enthusiasm. He took the blanket to place it over the both of us before wrapping one arm around me to keep me close to him. 
When a scene of the main characters decorating a Christmas tree came on, I decided that we should do that, too. “We should get a Christmas tree for your apartment,” I let him know. “We could decorate it with purple ornaments.” 
“That sounds really nice.”
I adjusted my position inside his arms until I could fully look at him to tell him, “And we need to bake cookies! I have a recipe for the best chocolate chip cookies you’ll ever taste.”
“Cookies sound great-,” Spencer agreed before finding my lips to mumble against them, “- but I’d rather have you right now.” 
The movie playing in the background was quickly forgotten as we deepened our kiss. His lips felt soft and demanding at the same time and when his tongue met mine it was as if we melted into one another. It only took a few moments until I noticed a familiar warmth rushing through my body, making me eager to feel more of him. My hand wandered to the hem of his sweater, dipping beneath it to feel the heat of his skin. 
“Are you still cold?” I breathed into the kiss. 
“No.”
I broke the kiss to smirk at him as I purred, “Good. That means you can take your sweater off.” 
Spencer chuckled at my words but did as I said. Slowly we helped each other shed each layer of clothing until there was nothing left to separate our bodies as we lay beside one another on the couch.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he purred as he kissed down my neck. 
His hands began exploring the curves of my breasts and I felt him smiling against my skin when I answered his touches with the sounds of my pleasure. His fingertips were soon replaced by his lips as he kissed every inch of my skin within reach. Gently, he pushed apart my thighs and lay down between them before he began nipping and licking along my inner thighs. 
I knew that I was dripping with desire at this point but Spencer took his time to tease me. I was sure he didn’t do it on purpose. It wasn’t the first time that he lost track of time worshipping me, his eyes always filled with wonder when he kissed along all the curves and dips my body had to offer.
“Please…,” I finally whimpered. “I need you.” 
It was as if my words had snapped him out of a trance. He mumbled, “Sorry,” against my thigh before his mouth finally focussed on my center. My hands flew to his head, my fingers intertwining with his curls as he brought me closer to my breaking point. I dared to look down at him and moaned at the sight of half of his face buried between my thighs. It looked downright sinful. 
It took just a few more moments of his skillful motions until I entered a state of pure bliss. Spencer’s hands grabbed my hips to keep me steady as he guided me through my high. When my body began relaxing underneath him, he placed a few more soft kisses against my folds before finding his home inside my arms. 
I was quick to reach down to find his hardness, making him shudder at the sudden touch. My fingers wrapped around him and began moving just the way I knew he liked. My motions were immediately rewarded by his sighs and groans. When I let my thumb brush over his leaking tip, he whined my name against my neck. 
“Tell me what you want, love,” I cooed as I kept stroking him. 
“I–,” he whimpered as he locked eyes with me. “I… wanna be inside you. Please.” 
“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 
It took him a few seconds to process my words. The thought that I had the ability to make the smartest and most eloquent man I knew forget everything else but me made me smile. He repositioned himself until he was kneeling between my legs, taking a moment to let his eyes wander over my body. 
“I’m so lucky,” he purred as he leaned over me. “So lucky to have you.” 
I reached between our bodies to guide him to my entrance. He took his time entering my body, a sigh falling from his lips with every inch that disappeared inside me. When he was fully inside me, he leaned down to kiss me. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him even closer against me until there was no distance to be found between us. 
Slowly we began moving, our hips grinding against one another in perfect synchronicity. We got lost inside each other’s arms. As our bodies merched there was no way of telling where my body ended and his began. Together we chased the sweet relief with heavy breaths and accelerated motions until we fell over the edge together. 
Each of the pulses of my walls around him was answered with him throbbing inside me, sharing his warmth with me until he had nothing left to give. He collapsed into my arms and buried his face into the crook of my neck as he tried to even out his breathing. Our bodies stayed connected for as long as possible but we had to let go of each other eventually. 
After cleaning up I found my home inside Spencer’s arms, my head resting on his chest. His heart was still beating faster than usual but it slowed down after a few more moments. 
“I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you,” he whispered. “And every holiday after that.” 
Tumblr media
Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @castiels-majestic-wings @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @purpledsky @super-nerd22 @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie
926 notes · View notes
blue-likethebird · 5 months
Text
Reusing the memory system from botw for the tears of the dragon storyline in totk was such a terrible decision on so many different levels that it’s honestly kind of impressive.
While the botw memory system had flaws of its own, there was one small but significant thing that worked in its favour: botw’s memories were largely separate from the main plot in the past, and have absolutely no bearing on the story being told in the present. Aside from a few specific instances (ie the calamity striking, the ceremony, Link and Zelda becoming closer) the memories are all self-contained moments that emphasize character development over driving the story. Because there’s no major narrative throughline between them, it gives players more freedom to discover in any order regardless of how much they’ve progressed through the main quest without running the risk of stumbling across a memory that ruins something else later on in the game.
(This got long so the rest of my analysis is going under the cut.)
The biggest change between the memories from botw and the dragon’s tears from totk is definitely what kind of information these cutscenes relay to you as the player. Botw’s memories are primarily snapshots of small interpersonal moments that hold very little significance to the greater narrative taking place in the past. Totk’s memories are the greater narrative. With only one major exception -that I’ll touch on in a sec-, every cutscene in the dragon’s tears shows a crucial moment of story development with no time left to explore the characters driving that story forwards. There’s no organic moment revealing, say, a quirk of Rauru’s that Mineru finds annoying, or Sonia’s sense of humour, or any of our literal Main Villain Ganondorf’s motivations for going to war with Hyrule. If there’s any moments of character focus they only happen in ways that advance the plot (meaning the only real character focus is on the characters totk wants the entire universe to orbit around, namely Rauru and Zelda), and as such it’s harder to bring myself to care about what happens to anyone.
To illustrate the point I’m trying to make here, compare the memories of the champions Link regains during the divine beast quests to the conversations with the ancient sages at the end of each temple. The memories make passing mentions of the ongoing preparations for the calamity, but the real purpose of those scenes is to showcase who the champions were as people before their deaths and give us a reason to mourn them, even though we know at the start of our journey that they’re all long gone. In contrast, the conversations with the ancient sages are all about the events of the imprisoning war and their promise to Zelda that their descendants will come to Link’s aid in the future, very obviously copy pasted for each of the five times that cutscene is brought up (which is a particularly egregious moment of bad quest design but that’s a rant for another time) in such a way that none of the 5 incarnations of that cutscene reveal anything new about the ancient sages as characters, to the point where none of them even show their faces. I care about Daruk because the game shows me that he cares deeply about the wellbeing of his fellow champions and brings out the best in others. So why should I care about the nameless, faceless sage of water? What’s there to move me about their struggles if my only interactions with the sages are a series of exposition dumps? If the game can’t give me a reason to sincerely care about its main characters, the whole rest of the story is meaningless.
(As an aside, I get the feeling someone on the dev team caught on to the issue I’m describing here, because the tea party memory sticks out like a sore thumb from the rest of the dragon tear cutscenes. It’s such a jarring change of pace to have the otherwise plot-heavy dragon’s tears come screeching to a halt for a scene where Sonia sits down with Zelda to have a cute little tea party and talk about absolutely nothing of significance that the whole thing almost seems like it was hastily tacked on to the story later. Given that the next (chronological) memory sees Sonia fall victim to an unceremonious death by chiropractor, it feels like someone realized that Sonia really doesn’t do or say much in the scenes before she dies and threw together the tea party scene so players would have at least one moment to look back on fondly when she’s fridged. But I digress)
The story told in the dragon’s tears is a highly linear one. But the open-ended nature of botw’s memory system remains, meaning that these tears can be found and viewed in any order. At first this doesn’t seem so bad, since the first two tears you’re likely to find if you follow the game’s intended path are also the chronological first and second of the memories you can discover through these geoglyph tears. But after those first two, the game kinda gives up on guiding you towards these tears in a way that flows well with the story they wrote: the closest tear geographically to the two the game initially guides you towards correlates to one of the penultimate scenes of that entire storyline, while the next scene chronologically is found almost halfway across the map. As such, it’s all but guaranteed that you’ll spoil yourself in some way without using either a guide or the (somewhat unintuitive and never fully explained by the game) little map in the forgotten temple. Finding memories in order didn’t matter so much in botw because the scenes you could find still worked well as standalone scenes before you discovered every memory and pieced together the full picture, and the game is never trying to surprise me about the characters’ fates at the end of this storyline: hell the first memory you’re guided to shows the calamity striking. But in contrast, viewing a dragon’s tear at the wrong time can completely ruin the story they’re trying to tell in those cutscenes. During my playthrough, for example, the first tear I found after the game stopped guiding me to them showed Ganondorf removing Sonia’s stone from her dead body. At this point I had known Sonia existed for all of like an hour, so every subsequent appearance she made was ruined for me by the fact that I already knew she was nothing but cannon fodder to be killed off for the sake of another character’s pain (Rauru and Zelda a-fucking-gain). I expected to be pissed that it was so easy to spoil myself, or maybe sad in passing that a character with her potential was so underutilized, but instead I just felt… tired. I wasn’t even halfway to the first settlement and already I was completely numb to the story the game was trying to tell.
But the worst was yet to come. And oh boy was it ever a low point for storytelling in the Zelda series. Remember how I said up above that the memories in botw had no connection to the story in the present? Let’s just say the same cannot be said for the dragon’s tears.
It’s May 2023. I’ve just finished the sage of wind questline. I still have hope that the story the game is trying to tell will be good. Deciding that I’ll go to Goron city next, I head towards the Thyplo skyview tower to expand my map, catch a glimpse of a nearby geoglyph from the air, and glide over to check it out. This geoglyph shows me a memory that not only recaps the entire dragon tear storyline, but also ends on a bit of foreshadowing about Zelda’s fate that’s about as subtle as a brick to the fucking face. By exploring -the thing the game claims it prioritized above all else in the design of its world and quests- I’d once again been hit with spoilers for a major story detail.
My main objective in this game is to find Zelda. It’s the only driving factor behind my journey towards all these different regions. The current big mystery I’m supposed to solve is why Zelda’s causing so much hell for the people of Hyrule. I now knew exactly where she was and what the deal with her appearances in other parts of Hyrule was, and I’d found it completely by accident by doing something the game says over and over again that it wants me to do. Unlike with Sonia’s death, this time I was a mess of emotions. I was pissed the fuck off that this open-world game had punished me twice already for trying to explore. More than that, I was disappointed that a game I had been so excited to play, from a series I had so many fond memories of, had let me down like this. With every subsequent quest where the sages and I chased a Zelda I knew was fake to our next objective, and every NPC wondering where she was that I couldn’t tell the truth to, that disappointment grew. The entire rest of the main story was ruined for me before I had progressed past 1/4th of the regional quests and a third of the dragon’s tears. There was no more sense of anticipation or mystery. I finished the rest of the game with a bitter taste in my mouth and haven’t touched it again since.
Do I think this story could have been good? Honestly, I don’t know, and by now I don’t really care either (that’s a lie. I care so so much and that’s probably why I hate totk as much as I do). But it’s all irrelevant, because like Cinderella’s stepsister cutting off her own heel so she can cram her foot into a glass slipper that’s never going to fit, totk is sabotaged by the devs’ insistence that everything fit itself into a world they custom-made for botw. This isn’t a new formula that the series is following, it’s Nintendo slapping a new coat of paint on an existing skeleton, and I’m not optimistic to see what this particular approach has in store for the Zelda series. Especially not at the price they’re charging for it.
583 notes · View notes
krakensdottir · 9 months
Text
So that new clip, huh.
This is cementing something I suspected when I saw Crowley’s reaction to Gabriel in the trailer. Crowley is afraid. Like seriously terrified of what’s about to happen to them. He’s not just being dramatic this time, he’s looking at their own personal apocalypse standing there in the bookshop.
Like, it’d be easy to expect that Aziraphale would be afraid. But no. He’s nervous as hell - always has been, around the bosses - but he doesn’t seem to be afraid of Gabriel. This is what I was saying about him actually being a legitimate cinnamon roll. Boss shows up with no memories, after not long ago trying to kill him, obviously needing help, and Aziraphale like. Doesn’t even hesitate. Of course he’s going to help. Not because Gabriel deserves it, but because whether he deserves it doesn’t come into play. He has no one else. Aziraphale can’t just leave him like this, now can he?
(Note that I don’t think this is Aziraphale being a doormat or anything. He’s too forgiving, yes, but that’s a known and accepted character trait. He likes to help people, and he chooses to help people. He’s choosing to help Gabriel, and perhaps forgive him, whatever we or Crowley might think of the wisdom of that choice.)
Crowley, though... he’s freaking out. Aziraphale wasn’t there to see Gabriel’s cold-ass eyes consigning him to the flames. Crowley can’t forgive him. No way. And he can’t see Gabriel as anything less than someone who will gladly destroy them both.
And as touching as it is to interpret ‘precious, peaceful, fragile existence’ as referring to Aziraphale, I don’t think it’s that simple. It certainly includes Aziraphale, but believe it or not, I don’t think he’s the be-all end-all of the situation. Crowley is afraid for himself, for the closest thing to peace he’s ever had. And he has every right to be. Maybe it’s easy to forget because of the way he usually plays it off, but Crowley has lived his whole post-Fall existence with terror in the back of his mind. He’s had the threat of torture and destruction hanging over his head, not only from his own bosses, but from the angels who oppose him along with the rest and even from God who decided to toss him out in the first place. He has no safe space other than Aziraphale and the bookshop. He never has, and he has every fucking right to be afraid of losing that for his own sake. He has every right to be angry and upset and terrified and to hate being dragged into this.
And I don’t know, I kind of don’t want to see that watered down into something purely romantic and protective. Crowley talks about the peace he carved out for himself, he means it. He carved it out over millennia, often without Aziraphale’s help. I’d be furious about the idea of losing that too, especially when it’s because the person he thought he could trust just can’t say no to helping the guy who tried to kill him.
(Not hating on Aziraphale here, and I don’t think Crowley is either. Aziraphale has his reasons, and I’m pretty sure one of them is that he doesn’t think they actually have a choice here, that they’re facing something terrible they have to deal with regardless. Just like Crowley with Armageddon. He just... isn’t communicating that very well. At least not in this clip. Instead he’s trying to appeal to Crowley’s good nature, which does not extend as far as his own. Once they agree they have to deal with this regardless, I think they’ll be alright.)
724 notes · View notes
lunargrapejuice · 1 year
Text
drunk confessions
alhaitham x fem!reader | 3k words
warnings: drunk alhaitham, a bit of unwanted touching from another character
Tumblr media
the unpredictability of love was perhaps alhaithams worst enemy, at least when it came to you, and as he watched your skin flush under the gaze of another man that was more evident than ever. 
he's forgotten why he even came out this way, if he had been seeking you out like he often did or was just trying to get his mind off of you before he spotted you in the distance, wearing that flowy dress that he can’t get enough of, accompanied by another scholar who stood much too close to you, who caressed and grabbed your arm to get you to look at him before leaning toward your lips. alhaitham didn’t stick around to watch you kiss the man. he hadn’t prepared himself for the feeling of tightness in his chest as he walked away or the deep breaths he’d need to take all the way back to his office to try to stop it, though it was to no avail in the end. this annoying lick of flames that kept his chest feeling annoyingly uncomfortable at the thought of another man taking you as their own didn’t disappear simply because he had walked away.
he had struggled, or maybe it was more so avoided, processing the fact that he had indeed fallen in love with you and even after he came to the conclusion of love, he still chose to do nothing about it. love was everything he was not; irrational, illogical, the act of following one’s heart. and you were.. 
kaveh had once told alhaitham that he couldn’t understand why someone as bright and lovely as you would want to be around someone with such an unlikeable personality, who never saw anything for its true beauty but instead at face value and even then found them unnecessary. you found beauty in everything and gave everyone the kindness he had come to adore, even if he thought most were not deserving of your caring nature. but that never stopped you from being around him, never stopped you from enjoying the peaceful silence as you read books side by side or walked around the city and pointed out the worldly beauties he had not cared to note until he met you. you had blushed at his bone dry teasing and fought with him many times trying to justify such lovely things and why they were important to life. he loved to fluster you, to rile you up, see that pout on your lips and the determination in your eyes as you tried to rationalize that which wasn’t rational at all. but even more than that, he loved to see you smile and a part of him wondered if someone with such a cold, seemingly unfeeling, personality like his own could continue to make you smile. 
as irritated as it made him feel, as he sits in his office chair and runs a hand through his hair, he can’t help but think, would the man you were with today be able to keep you smiling and happy in ways he could not? 
“gods don’t you look to be in a terrible mood,” kaveh voice breaks alhaitham from his thoughts. apparently he had been so caught in them he had failed to hear his roommate burst through the door or even walk in until he spoke and made himself comfortable on the chair in front of his desk. “want to talk about it?”
“get out.”
“now hold on! i may have a better suggestion and i think you’ll like it,” kaven smiles mischievously and alhaitham already knows what he’s about to say. “want a drink instead?”
“fine but you’re buying.”
Tumblr media
your palm stung from the impact against the cheek of the man who had tried to force himself on you. even minutes after walking away, with your chest in knots and your eyes full of unshed tears of anger, you could still feel the tingle of pressure throughout your fingertips. just who did he think he was trying to kiss you unprovoked in the middle of the street like that?! archons you hated arrogant scholars who tried to take what they wanted without actually hearing your own words simply because they thought they were above you. 
“my position at the akademiya will make a comfortable life for you. i know i could make you a happy housewife.” 
blah blah blah. 
it was all pointless drivel when your heart already belonged to someone else, another scholar who’s position in the akademiya never mattered to you. being the scribe never swayed your feelings, was never even a component as to why you fell in love with him and he would certainly laugh at the idea of making you a housewife. but it didn’t matter because you have never confessed your feelings to him and you aren’t sure you ever would. 
 surely he would find love a waste of time, unnecessary to his own goals. and even if he didn’t think that way about love, didn’t he deserve to be with someone of his same status, someone who could share his wealth in knowledge? the fact he was a genius didn’t escape you and it only made sense that he deserved to be with someone who could share that with him or at least be on a similar level but you didn’t feel like you quite met that bill. so you’d kept your mouth shut and held down the lid of your affections for him, even if it did spill out from time to time when you couldn’t help but reach out to touch him or caught yourself staring at him for longer than you should have. 
sometimes you wished to let it all out even though you knew it meant he’d leave your life, to spare you both- it was the most logical action after all- and that was the last thing you wanted. but as you lock the door to your apartment and flop onto the couch face first into a decorative pillow you wonder, had spoken how you felt about him if maybe it could have been him confessing his feelings and trying to kiss you today. 
you both hate and love the thought; it’s nothing more than a silly daydream but it was one that made your heart flutter nonetheless. 
Tumblr media
bang bang bang
the loud thumps on your door draw your attention away from your book and to the clock hanging on the wall. your eye twitches when you see the time, it's well past midnight and the moonlit night shining through the window also says as much. who the hell is coming to your door this late and why are they being so damn loud?!
placing a pressed flower bookmark on the page you were on, you leave the book to rest on the coffee table and go to give this person a piece of your mind and a lesson in the manners of which a person can come to someone’s house unannounced this late into the evening. but as you open the door and are met with seafoam eyes flecked with amber and the tall shadow of alhaitham engulfing your figure, any words you had got caught in your throat and were swallowed to join the butterflies that were doing somersaults in your stomach and the running thoughts that took over every inch of your body.
“y/n..” your name leaves his lips slow and you can smell the alcohol on his breath from here. it’s only then do you notice the glossiness of his eyes and the emotions you can’t quite make out behind them or how he slumps against the door frame, as if he’s using it to keep himself up right. 
“let’s get you some water,” you say with a reassuring smile, some kind of attempt to help ease whatever is going on inside his mind that brought him to your door this late at night, and drunk of all things but your questions to why he’s here and what he’s doing this drunk could wait, at least for now. 
as if your heart wasn’t already beating like crazy, it almost jumps right out of chest when you put your arm around his middle to help steady him on your walk to the couch and he wraps his arm around you, the muscles of his torso flexing against your hand and side. his grip on you is hardly for support, it seems he can walk fine for the most part but his arm around you is still tight, pulling you so close there’s barely an inch between your bodies. 
with his strength, strength a ‘feeble scholar’ didn’t need in the slightest, he pulls you onto the couch with him. embarrassed to be almost on top of him, you avoid his eyes as you move a bit farther away but he doesn’t let you go far. the warmth of his fingers trail from where he held onto you, up your spine and to the side of your neck. warm calloused fingers rest there, feeling every hard thump of your heart and the heat that spreads throughout your whole body but he doesn’t comment or tease you about it. when you finally meet his eyes again, there’s no hiding his are staring directly at your lips. 
your face feels so hot under this kind of attention from him, you don’t need to look in a mirror to know you’re flushed a bright shade of red but you couldn’t stop it even if you tried. not with the way he held you with such tenderness and looked at you with enchantingly soft eyes and what you now realize may be sadness shining through the cracks.  
“s-stay here, i’ll go get you-“
you don’t get a chance to escape to the kitchen to regain your composure or even finish your sentence before he interrupts you. “does he make you happy?”
confused by his question and the hurt in his tone, your body stills. unable to stop yourself from wanting to comfort him, your hands rest on his arm, your fingers soothing over his skin. “what are you talking about? does who make me happy?”
he grumbles, as if hating to think about whoever it was he was talking about. “that man…” he looks just as muddled as you trying to remember who this man was. “the one who kissed you today.” his fingers resting on your neck tighten their grip, not enough to hurt but enough to tell you how urgent it was you tell him. you’re shocked he had seen what happened earlier but if he thought you had kissed him.. he must not have seen it all. before you can reply and clear the air between you, if you could even find words to speak, the pad of his thumb runs along on your bottom lip, gently swiping across it and back again. you can’t think, can hardly breath but all of it, all of your brain function and answers to his question are taken from you when he leans in close, his silver hair tickling your face, his heated breath fanning your already burning skin and says, “i wanted to be the only one to kiss your lips.”
it’s quiet for a long moment, only the sound of his heavy breaths and your heart beating rapidly filling your ears as he keeps you impossibly close. all this time had he felt the same way as you? your mind races with memories of these last few months when you’ve found your way to his side; times he made you smile, the moments you reached out to touch him and he didn’t pull away, when you swore you caught him staring back at you, even if it was only for a split moment.
“but if he makes you happy.. makes you smile..” his words trail off but he doesn’t let you go, doesn’t move from the proximity of your face. you’re so close your chests are nearly touching with every deep breath you both take.
“i didn’t kiss him,” you finally reply and his desperate grip on you relaxes, a sigh of relief escaping past his lips. “honestly.. his advances towards me weren’t all that consensual..”
quickly enough to give any normal person whiplash, he pulls away from you and stares at you more seriously than he ever has before, the amber of his eyes burning with a fierce fire. “did he touch you? i -”
“didn’t you hear me ‘haitham?” you reassure him, squeezing his arm gently and offering him a sweet smile. “i said i didn’t kiss him. he tried but i gave him my answer in the form of a quite lovely handprint to the face. some of my best work if i do say so myself.” you chuckle at the thought, how proud you felt of yourself for not letting him get away with touching you unwarranted like that and trying to push you into something you made clear you didn’t want.
“that’s my girl.” he says it so casually, like you truly were his and yeah, maybe you weren’t officially, you had never agreed to that with him, but your heart belonged to him all the same.
in your boldness, under the smile of relief and amusement he gave you, a smile that made you even weaker to the handsome man before you, you find your bubbling feelings can’t be held back and let a little more than you ever have before slip through. “i only want you to be the one kissing me too, you know.”
once again he pulls you close. this time resting his forehead on yours while his thumb caresses your cheek and cradles your face, your own hands resting against his chiseled chest, feeling the beating of his heart under your palm. the strands of your hair mix with his, your shared breaths becoming shallow and bated. it's hard to think straight, to not become a complete melting mess in his arms and keep your own feelings from coming out completely to a drunk person who likely wouldn’t even remember this in the morning.
you want so badly to kiss him, to feel the lips you’ve been yearning for against your own but the thought of his drunken regret, that he may not even remember this in the morning, that you may be getting your hopes up, stops you from closing the distance. 
“not tonight ‘haitham.. not while you’re drunk,” of course he listens, doesn't kiss you despite how badly he wants to, his fingers flexing against you to stop himself. “but if you still feel the same way tomorrow, if you still want to then, you know where to find me.”
in the peaceful silence you often find with him, he rubs the tip of his nose against yours and keeps your head gently pressing against his. you don’t know how long you stay in that position, basking in this unusually soft and needy display of affection from him and as much as you’d like to stay here for longer, the clock continues to tick and you know you should get him to bed. 
moving your hands from his chest to his shoulders, you pull away and feel your heart skip many beats at his response to pull you closer, to not let you go. “come on, let’s get you home.”
luckily he doesn’t live too far and even though he kept you pressed against his side, you didn’t have to help him walk all that much. you find kaveh drunkenly sleeping against the door when you arrive at the house, guess that explains why alhaitham was drunk, and with a knowing smile alhaitham pulls out both house keys from his pocket. 
once inside, kaveh now passed out on the couch half covered under a blanket you found nearby, you get alhaitham on the other couch, helping him take off the headphones he usually wears so he can sleep more comfortably before pulling a blanket over him. he looks cute like this, you think. so unlike his normal stern, cool and calculating self and yet still the same man you fell in love with. you hope you get to see more of it, though possibly sober instead of drunk next time. 
once he’s comfortable you go to leave, but before you can even take a step away from him, long fingers wrap around your wrist. you turn to face him and see a flash of that determination to see through anything he sets his mind to flash behind his tired eyes. 
“y/n… i’ll come for you tomorrow.”
Tumblr media
you try not to fuss, not to look eagerly at every set of footsteps that come your way that next morning. you know there’s a possibility it was all just a drunk mistake or that he hadn’t meant it, not that you think him a liar but alcohol did far worse things to people than make them say things they didn’t mean. 
still, the way he acted.. what he said.. you wanted it all to be true and deep in your heart you felt like it was. so as patiently as you could, you waited and went about your day with thoughts of alhaitham lingering in the back of your mind. the way he held you last night, the words he professed at the thought of you being with another man, how he called your name like it was the only word he wanted to say. 
you heard it over and over in your mind until you swore you heard it for real and with a racing heart, you turned around to see the man you loved making his way towards you, the early afternoon light at his back, that same determination from last night in his now clear, well rested, eyes. 
“why do you look so surprised to me?” he asks, never stopping his long strides that close the distance between you. even when there aren't any more steps to take, he brings you closer to him. one hand snaking around your side to the small of your back, pressing you against his chest, while the other gently moves through your hair to hold the back of your neck, his words whispered against your lips as you lifted on your toes to reach him. “i told you i’d be coming.”
Tumblr media
genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist
2K notes · View notes
watchtowerindistress · 9 months
Text
(how) to hunt a hunter - sergei kravinoff x fem!reader
Tumblr media
Summary: Kraven the Hunter was a myth equal to the Boogeyman. So the prestigious offer to hunt the legendary hunter sounded insane yet like a blast. Who were you as a Black Widow to say ‘no’ to that?
Word count: 4.5k
Warnings: blood, violence, sexual tension, language, consumption of alcohol
Author’s note: Don’t judge me for inserting another Black Widow character again. 🤣 I thought it’d be fun to not go the typical route of Sergei hunting you, but you hunting him. Seriously, what is up with this trope, guys? I’m getting out of my hiatus which is rough and I want to just create something fun and not like a full-blown series. I apologize, I’m better with witty dialogue than fighting scenes, I’m terribly sorry. 😅
If you followed my we all have our secrets series, there’s a character who gets a slightly more prominent role in this one-shot than the mere mention. You know, I’m getting Morbius vibes from the trailer, but I guess it’s going be fun? 🤷🏻‍♀️
Read me on AO3
Tumblr media
You wiped the damp layer off the mirror and winced at what you saw.
Your battered reflection was staring back at you. You shook your head and even that movement of your wet hair stroking the side of your neck irritated the scrapes and bruises even further.
Needing to breathe through the pain, you exhaled through your mouth, leaning forward on your elbows against the edges of the wash basin. 
Wrath was burning in your eyes when you glared at your reflection. The broken blood vessel of your eye was a sore reminder of the absolute failure of a mission.
Tumblr media
The blue eyes of Sergei Kravinoff shone on the display of your laptop to reveal your target. You hummed before gazing through the binoculars on the roof of the hotel you to keep track of the infamous Kraven.
Killing him would certainly be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who could even say that about themselves?
Your phone alerted you to a new call coming in. Almost casually you took it without glancing at the screen. Your eyes were glued to the outside surroundings.
“Kind of in the middle of something,” you said with a bored voice.
“So it was you who took the assignment?”
You sighed. Your wrist almost dropped the field glass at hearing Talia’s voice.
“Did I take it away from you?”
A mirthful chuckle reverberated through the loud speaker. “No, I’m not that desperate to face the Hunter.”
Your eyes glanced sideways at that tidbit of information. “Is that fear? Didn’t know that the infamous White Widow was afraid of anything.”
“Not fear. Just a boring survival instinct.”
A pause lingered in the air.
“What is it for you? The prestige? Something fun?”
“Maybe I like a challenge.” 
Talia’s voice turned severe to warn you of the danger. “Trust me on this. This man is no joke. He’s going to enjoy tearing you apart.”
“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”
Talia exhaled. “I knew his father. That family isn’t something to be trifled with. But no, if I want to rupture my lung, I’d rather do it on my own terms. But I also know I can’t stop you if you set your mind to something. All I can offer you are my contacts on sight, wherever you are.”
“No, thank you.” You chuckled. “And don’t pretend like you don’t even know where I am.”
“What can I say? I can’t reveal all my secrets. Stubborn to a fault,” Talia grumbled under her breath. “But I didn’t tell you the whole truth. About Kraven. He’s more animal than man. An absolute savage, mark my words, dushka.” [darling]
“Warning accepted. And to answer your question. It’s a challenge. That’s why I’m doing it.”
“He’d be more than just a challenge.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Tumblr media
The unpredictability of this target revealed itself soon enough when Kravinoff didn’t seem to have a single pattern. It was confounding. People had patterns to orient themselves in their daily lives.
You didn’t understand it.
So, the fact that he entered a hotel bar raised your suspicions even more. It wasn’t your ideal preference with the amount of exit strategies the location offered. With wary eyes, you strolled towards the bar, instantly recognizing the broad shoulders clothed in a white dress shirt.
You sighed. This was truly bad. But it wouldn’t be the first time your cover was blown before the job could even start. A curious glance towards the amount of glasses behind the barkeeper made you smirk though.
Kravinoff slightly turned his head the closer you got before you finally sat on the stool, without any space separating you two. If the target was aware of the oncoming hit, then it didn’t matter keeping up pretences.
He pulled the amber-filled tumbler to his lips. “You want to have a drink before we get started? It’s on me.” If the file didn’t give it away before, the accent certainly revealed his Russian heritage.
“Sure. I love to celebrate.” You pointed a finger in the air and motioned for the barkeeper with a “I’ll have what he’s having, neat. Keep the bottle.”
Kravinoff snorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s funny. Already certain of your victory?”
You watched the barkeeper pour two fingers into your glass before he wandered away. “Just enjoying myself during work.” You sipped a bit and instantly hummed from the smoky taste in your mouth.
Kravinoff raised an eyebrow. “You like?”
You shrugged. “You seem to have taste when it comes to certain refreshments.”
The man grunted at your sarcastic dig which satisfied you if you couldn’t use the moment of surprise to your advantage.
Kravinoff twirled his glass between his fingers. “Who sent you?” he inquired throatily.
“What? No foreplay?”
He slowly turned in his seat until his legs were spread and he was facing you head-on. His eyes were burning with intensity. In any other situation you would have deemed him beautiful in a gruff way. Kravinoff remained sullen and quiet, waiting for you to speak.
You rolled your eyes, knocking back your drink. “You’re no fun. Perhaps I intend to play with my prey before I have to kill it.”
His mouth twisted into a sinister smirk. “You think I’m your prey?” The last word sounded like he tasted something nasty on his tongue. 
“Don’t insult me, pet.”
You furrowed your brows at the mention of that so-called term of endearment.
Kravinoff lazily laced his fingers together. “So, what are you? Regular mercenary? HYDRA agent? Talon?”
“Widow.”
Kravinoff tilted his head at that one word in intrigue. “Hmm. It’s an honor-”
Something akin to pride or satisfaction lingered in your stomach.
“-to kill you.”
You clenched your jaw at the self-assurance in his voice. “Well, in that case…” You dared to steal Kravinoff’s drink, just to one-up him for that arrogance of his.
“… give it your best shot, sweetheart.”
Before he could even attack you, you hit his larynx with the side of your hand.
Kravinoff omitted a pained grunt, shielding his throat. He jumped from his chair.
You broke his tumbler on the counter, slashing Kravinoff’s neck.
With an animalistic growl and burning eyes, he seized your neck, smashing your face against the counter. Something like a creak resounded underneath you with the force.
A whimper left your lips. You felt something sharp on your temple.
In one swift move, Kravinoff slid your head along the counter. Something wet trickled down the side of your face. You hissed at the sensation of glass shards against your skin.
You kneed the back of his knee, managing to subdue him and jump him until your legs wound around his neck, making him groan with your choking move.
Your balance shifted as Kravinoff tried to shake you off by grabbing your hips. Trying to take him by surprise and to throw him off his game, you jabbed your fingers into his eyeballs.
With a snarl, he rushed forward against the counter. You groaned in pain at the hardwood.
God, you were starting to hate this assignment.
You were starting to get used to Kravinoff’s burning eyes branding holes into you instead.
“Stop choking me.” There was something horrifying yet fascinating about his ocean blue eyes switching into amber-colored ones. The kind that hypnotized you and rendered you frozen.
“Kinda defeats the purpose of killing you,” you hissed as a retort. Although it certainly delighted you at seeing Kravinoff’s face getting red.
Almost in keeping you at suspense, he slowly yanked out a hunting knife from behind his back and making you grimace in return. There was something about his eyes that revealed what he wasn’t saying.
Seeing no way out of this without getting utterly mutilated by this hunter, you stretched out your arm behind you and grabbed a broken glass. You would learn to fight another day.
Kravinoff winced and eyed his shin darkly.
Without losing any time for him to fight back in retaliation, you pushed against his chest with your feet, making him fall back.
Knowing that the moment he would look up, you had already run.
Tumblr media
“I heard you had an eventful day yesterday.”
The humorous statement drew a weary sigh from your lips. Your fingers clenched around the steering wheel at the mere reminder of the mission. Although you didn’t need it since there was nothing that could make you forget with every glance in the mirror or every movement of your muscles.
You inhaled deeply. “You know, it’s funny, when you were dead, the phone remained silent. Now I can’t get rid off you.”
“Allegedly dead. And don’t pretend. You crave our little talks.”
“You here to gloat?”
“Only when it’s warranted. I thought I told you he was dangerous. That’s on you—underestimating a man like him.”
You scoffed in derision. A man like him. “You’re probably right. At least I survived. Who else can say that?”
Your speaker phone remained silent.
You held your breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Kraven has a tendency to kill the people he sets his mind to. So the fact that you’re still alive worries me. He didn’t mention his death list, did he?”
Something moved uncomfortably in your stomach at the concept of an assassin following a list. You licked your lips, remembering how his eyes turned golden. A supernatural hunter trying to kill you wasn’t on your to-do list.
You parked your car in the garage of your safe house before you sped up the stairs.
“No, although there wasn’t a lot of time for talking, if you know what I mean.” You felt the civil conversation at the beginning would make the White Widow only insinuate how you had let your guard down, but you would disagree.
“I’m just saying, Kraven can find anyone, so you better be on your guard.”
A groan left your lips when you inspected the lock on your door, letting your head fall forward. “This isn’t happening,” you muttered in disbelief under your breath. “Got to run,” you called out.
“Don’t die,” Talia sang as a goodbye and half a reminder before hanging up.
You rolled your eyes. “Yes, thanks for the warning,” you grumbled to yourself before you inhaled through your nose in preparation. With your gun placed at the back of your belt and your Widow Bites switched on. Silently, you opened the door and pointed your wrist to the floor. Nothing, so far.
“I’m curious, how would you like to die?” you hollered through the apartment. “Any preferences? I should have asked the last time.” You studiously searched every room, knowing he was in here somewhere.
“How considerate,” Kraven’s sarcastic reply came closer than expected. “Not here to kill you.”
You scoffed loudly. “Yes, right. I’ll believe that when I see it,” you whispered.
Finally, you found him. With his back turned towards you and his arms behind his back, taking in his surroundings. You didn’t trust it one bit that someone like him would be vulnerable like that. Kraven’s figure in the kitchen almost made it seem to small with his dominating presence taking up all of the space. You reluctantly applauded that gall of his for invading your space like that and to make a surprise attack like that.
“You changed your shirt,” you observed quietly, taking in his casual shirt, despite there not being anything casual about him. “The other one too bloody for you?”
Humor was laced in his voice as he slowly turned around, sending you a daring glance. “Observant little spider. Just want to talk.”
The guffawing sound coming out of your throat awkwardly switched to a cough. “Sorry, that—I don’t know where that came from.”
“I’m curious what other sounds I can elicit from those lips.”
You furrowed your eyebrows at the blatant flirting. If that could be considered flirting since it felt more like a hit from a sledgehammer. Very direct and hard to get away from. Typical Russian.
You clenched your hand behind your back. Talia couldn’t fault you for staying on your guard. “And I’m wondering about your noises when I do this-”
You pointed your wrist at him, watching in satisfaction at the electric jolt shooting through his chest. Kraven groaned in pain before sending you a dark glare at your own insolence.
“I was trying to have a normal conversation. You know, trying something new. You make this really hard though.”
You frowned at his ability to talk or even standing upright as you sauntered over to a close cabinet. With calm movements, you attached a silencer to your gun, not needing any more unwanted guests.
“I’m not really interested in talking after our last conversation, you know-”
Your wind was knocked out of you when something pushed into you, making you crash to the floor. You gasped when the back of your head bumped against the wooden floor. Shaking your head, you sent him a thunderous expression. “Now that’s my kind of conversation,” you hissed before you swung your thighs around his neck, squeezing with all your might.
Kraven grunted, closing his eyes. With sudden movements, he stood up and the next thing you knew was that he had pushed you against the wall, making you groan from the sudden impact.
Between your legs, you felt him puff out in breaths, “You know, not that I’m complaining, but I think I’m starting to get used to that.”
His flirty tone of voice made you look down in reluctance to discover him humming contently between your thighs. Spite made you squeeze even tighter and punch against his shoulders with your elbows.
“Stop with your pointy elbows,” Kraven hissed in warning.
“Stop invading my safe house, Kraven svolotsch!” [scumbag]
Your eyes widened when Kraven moved backwards and threw you onto your back as you both fell to the floor. He seemed to have a thing for knocking the wind out of you.
“What did you just call me?” he exhaled next to you.
“You heard me,” you whispered in return, trying to catch your breath.
“You know, I do love our conversations,” Kraven murmured reverently.
“What do you want?” you finally asked in disappointment.
“Now, you want to talk?”
“Now I want you out,” you exhaled tiredly.
“You wound me, pet.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Kraven sighed, slowly sitting up. “Who paid you?”
You opened your eyes, uncertain about his intentions. “Then you’ll kill me?”
Kraven raised his eyebrows, almost like he couldn’t believe you even uttering those words to him. “One less Spider in this world would be a pity. Tell me their name and I’ll reimburse you for your troubles. This, I promise you.”
You inhaled deeply, not knowing if Kraven was the kind to keep his oaths. “Or what?”
“These people are going to kill you if you don't deliver, unless you’re interested in a third run?” Kraven raised his eyebrows in challenge. Probably for some reason sharing the same opinion as you.
“Maybe I haven’t decided yet,” you teased as you leaned on your arm while your hand reached for his thigh which sustained the injury during your last altercation.
Kraven narrowed his eyes with his tilting head in consideration. “Uh, what are you doing?” he whispered hoarsely.
You clenched your jaw. Something wasn’t right, you thought, as you let your fingernails stubbornly search for the cut on his leg.
Kraven swallowed before he cleared his throat. “Why are you stroking my leg? Is this some sort of Soviet seduction technique I didn’t know about?”
There wasn’t an injury. Your heart was racing in your chest at the implication of it.
“What are you?”
Silence enveloped you two. Kraven stared at you in contemplation. “Tit for tat, Spider.”
“Fine.” You rolled your eyes and stood up to stretch your legs. “I don’t know their name. It didn’t matter. He only called himself the Benefactor.”
“Mysterious,” Kraven grumbled behind you.
“Drink?”
“Without poison, if it’s possible.”
You turned your body to reveal the fakest smile you could muster for him. “Only for you, sweetheart.”
“Oh, you treat me too well,” Kraven purred while cocking his head. “So, how does he contact you?”
“Encrypted connection via messaging server.” You offered a shot of vodka for him to take.
“Tell him to meet.” Pushing the brown locks away from his face, he threw back his drink.
“Well,…” You mulled over his offer. “…there’s only one choice to make. How do you feel about dying?” you inquired, putting the glass to your lips.
Tumblr media
You tapped your fingers against arm, waiting for the stop of the descent of the cargo elevator. All the while ignoring the stares of two other henchmen standing next to you.
Someone cleared their throat. “Are you like the real deal?”
You pursed your lips at the awkwardness of it all, being in the lair of the so-called Benefactor and being surrounded by fanboys. It was strange. Usually, you were used to people being terrified of your past. Like they couldn’t fathom the possibility of an assassin walking among them. Or that they’d rather didn’t see you being part of society.
“No, I just like dressing up,” you replied dryly, sending them a smirk over your shoulder. “You want me to turn on my batons?”
“Can we take a selfie?”
You considered that for a few seconds before shrugging. “Sure. You want to get the body bag too?”
“Is there really a body in there?”
“What can I say? Needed something large in size to fit the dude.”
Both seemed speechless for a second and made up their minds. “Neat. Come on, huddle together.”
You tilted your head, making a peace sign with your fingers before the camera made the sound of a snapshot. “Nice.”
“Thanks so much.”
You cleared your throat. “My pleasure. Until next time, fellas.” Your fingers made a saluting sign before the doors opened to signal your destination. “Got to deliver something,” you muttered before you wandered down the hallways of the complex.
You had to hand it to those villains. They certainly had the extravagant taste for the finer things in life such as a hidden lair for your base of operations. You turned the corner when the HQ became visible down a set of stairs. Judging by the set of computers and a few people strolling around, tending to their tasks.
In the center of the base a man stood. There was something about him that compelled your vigilance. You trusted your deepest instincts that told you that you were dealing with the Benefactor of all people.
You did a double-take towards the set of stairs, mumbling to yourself, “Huh, that’s a lot of stairs.”
Almost like your voice carried over to him, the man turned around, staring right at you. “Welcome. It’s an honor to be in the presence of a Black Widow.”
Your body tensed before you took a deep breath while carrying the body bag down the stairs, being mindful of every thunk as you descended.
“If you say so.” Your curious gaze met his. There was something about him that felt familiar. The man appeared in his late 60’s and wore an aviator jacket with the lapel lined with fur. “Have we met before?”
The Benefactor cleared his throat. “I don’t think so. Is that the package?”
You narrowed your eyes at the dismissal. “Depends. Are you the Benefactor?”
He smirked when he lowered his head. “Sometimes.”
You placed your hands on your waist, dropping the body bag fully to the floor. “Very cloak and dagger,” you mused. “And to answer to your question: no. I just carry my accessories in there. Really practical if you know what I mean.”
The staring between the Benefactor and you lingered far longer than you expected it would.
Then he smiled widely.
“You’re funny.”
“I haven’t been called that before,” you surmised before you dragged the bag closer to him and pulled down the zipper until it ended around his middle.
The Benefactor hummed curiously and leaned forward until he could really see him. “Hmmm, he looks really fresh,” he replied as an observation.
What?
“I’m sorry?”
“The injuries on his face, I mean. There were stories about him, you know. Is it true that he can regenerate?”
Was he trying to mount him on a wall, or something? Or what was it about this talk of admiration?
Your gaze wandered around in scepticism at this strange diversion. “What kind of supervillain are you?” you asked with a hoarse voice.
The Benefactor chuckled under his breath. “I wouldn’t call myself super, not yet. But I have plans.”
“Hmm, don’t we all.”
He clapped his hands together, like you had just rejuvenated his spirits. “How hard was it to kill him?”
You stared at him calmly, knowing what was about to happen. “I think you know the answer to that,” you whispered ominously.
“Yes, I think I do.” Something glimmered in his eyes which gave you the incentive to turn on your Batons with their red glare.
Kraven’s eyes opened.
Ever so dramatic, you thought, as you inwardly rolled your eyes.
You didn’t gave away any warning before you doused the whole facility into complete darkness. There were gasps around you from the sudden blackout. Instead you turned off your Batons and switched over to your blades.
Something growled in the dark before you saw those golden eyes, like some sort of harbinger.
“You wanted me. Now here I am,” Kraven hissed menacingly.
“There’s no need for violence. I just wanted to see what would happen.”
“Okay,” you exhaled loudly. “Now watch this happen,” you promised sinisterly and threw the first blade.
Someone shrieked in shock when the knife pierced their leg. “Oh my—Goddammit!”
“Finish this, Kraven. I’m starving.”
You heard something powering up. With every second passing, a mechanical sound echoed in the air before something set into place. You turned your head just when night vision goggles jerkily snapped in your direction.
You suppressed a shiver and opted for the (more) silent tactic, swinging the baton around before shooting electricity through it at the last second.
Someone grunted before they fell to the floor.
“We don’t have all day, by the way. What’s taking so long?” you hollered and jerked back when the thrusters of an exo-suit flew past. “What the hell?”
“I know what I’m doing,” Kraven exhaled, hovering in the air, somewhere near the ceiling. “You deal with your henchmen and I’ll take care of this one.”
The alarm deafened your ears before red lights pulsed rhythmically into the dark, giving you the opportunity to watch—wait a second—the Vulture pressing Kraven against the wall.
“Are you sure?”
“Is this concern I’m hearing?” Kraven growled inhumanly before wrestling against like a rabid animal, tearing with all his might against one of the wings.
“If you want to fight the Vulture, be my guest.” You turned your head and watched in suspension as a new group of henchmen ran inside.
“Oh hey, fanboys!” you called out, waving a hand in greeting at the familiar faces.
They looked uncertainly at each other before one whispered to the other, “I don’t want to fight the Black Widow.”
“If it’s any consolation, if Kraven hadn’t taken so long, we would’ve been out of here already, so…” You twirled your batons in the air. “I’m not really giving you a choice, fellas.”
Tumblr media
~Kraven POV~
Kraven was done with this bird man. He didn't mind heights, but this Vulture was messing with his good nature. The thruster’s engine made spluttering noises the longer his fingers viciously tore at it.
“This is all just a big misunderstanding.”
Kraven sneered at the pilot. “Tell that to me a few days ago when you tried to have me killed. Sending a Widow after me? Seems pretty clear to me,” he hissed with venom in his voice.
“Let go of the wing and we’ll talk.”
“The time for conversations is over, ptashka.” Feeling the itching in his fingers, he yanked out his hunting knife, ready to strike and not caring that they would fall several meters to the ground. [birdie]
“Okay, fine.”
Kraven frowned in anger when he was instead pushed, making him land on all fours.
Vulture’s landing was a bit inept, with the wing's engine sputtering. His arms were raised.
“Cease fire for now?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Kraven exhaled unevenly, feeling wrath still bubbling under the surface, sending you an expression of aggravation over his shoulder. Hoping you would understand not to cross Vulture for now without speaking.
“Can’t make any promises for her though,” Kraven mentioned casually while pointing towards you, like he was discussing the weather.
Thankfully, you fastened your batons at your back again.
“It was an invitation,” Vulture explained vaguely. “A test if you will. To join our circle.”
“Recruitment?” Kraven was getting bored already - this wasn’t really tickling his fancy. He raised an eyebrow with a sneer. “Not interested in joining anyone’s club. I have my own agenda to follow. I'm not bending towards anyone’s rules.”
“We respect your … hunts if you will.”
“We?”
“A collection of people who have been wronged. Like-minded people such as yourself. We could use someone like you who loves the thrill of the hunt. Because that’s what you do, right? You absolutely live for it. To hunt your prey until it grows tired.”
Kraven hummed noncommittally. Not sure yet of this secret club. But this bird man certainly could appeal to his baser nature. “I’ve reached a decision.”
Vulture tilted his head in fascination, but didn’t reveal his eyes behind those goggles.
“I won’t kill you … yet. For drawing me out like that. But you have aggravated me with your little games by making me neglect my work.” With every sentence, Kraven took a step forward, needing to drive home that he could kill them for their impertinence. “So, I’m going to take off and then I’ll debate with myself if I should drop by in the future. Be thankful if I don’t.”
He turned away, knowing with absolute clarity that they wouldn’t be stopped.
“Not even curious?” Vulture called from behind him, trying to dangle one last temptation.
“Too busy.”
“Even for a spider?”
Kraven clenched his jaw in agitation as he stopped in his tracks. And there went wrath all over again. His gaze met yours.
And there he thought he wouldn’t have to kill anyone.
Kraven turned his body, unable to stop the clenching of his fists. “Come again?”
“Oh, not this one,” he said, waving a hand at you. “I wouldn’t dare cross a potential asset.”
“Not interested,” you negated with absolute certainty.
Vulture shook his head. “Not interested … too busy.” With careful movements he took off his night vision goggles. “I thought it could interest you to hunt a certain … Spiderman.”
Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath​ @ravenmoore14​ @blackmagicwoman
422 notes · View notes
topguncortez · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Out of Your Mind || Whumptober Day 6 - B.Bradshaw
whumptober masterlist || whumptober taglist form
Tumblr media
synopsis: Bradley hadn't ever dreamed of becoming a dad until one day he found out he was going to be one. . . and then he became all the kid had.
word count: 1.8k
@ailesswhumptober prompt: crying yourself to sleep
warnings: child birth, mentions of cannon character death, character death, premature labor, premature newborn, talks about premature death, grief.
Tumblr media
When Bradley found out that his girlfriend was expecting, he was shocked. It wasn’t that they were actively trying, but they were doing little to prevent it. It took Bradley a moment to feel truly excited about it. All he could think of was the images of his mom crying into some stranger’s arms after they came to the door to tell him that his father was dead. Bradley never wanted to do that to someone. He never wanted someone to wait for him at home for him to never return. He didn’t want to leave a child without a father. 
But when he saw the first image of his little baby and heard their heartbeat, he knew that this was what was supposed to happen. Suddenly, everything felt so right. Everything, for once, felt okay in the world. 
As soon as they left the doctor’s office, Bradley was calling everyone he knew to tell them the exciting news. His girlfriend had to tell him to slow down, that she hadn’t even told her parents yet, and felt like that was who should know first. Bradley agreed and waited only a second after she had told her parents to continue texting everyone on his contacts list that he was going to be a father. 
Bradley was by his girlfriend’s side through it all. Every ultrasound, every craving, every emotion, every kick, Bradley was right there. He imagined that this was what his father felt when his mother was pregnant. Bradley had a hard time getting out of bed every morning to go to work, wanting nothing but the be by his girl’s side, not wanting to miss a single thing. Bradley was basically glued to the hip when he could be. 
He even put up a fight when the doctors and nurses forcefully pushed him out of the delivery room when his girlfriend threw a blood clot and stopped breathing. Bradley didn’t know much about what was going on, other than that it was early. The baby wasn’t supposed to come this early, but she had woken up in terrible pain. The kind of pain that robs you of your sight. Bradley had rushed to the hospital and barely had the car in park when doctors were rushing them upstairs to labor and delivery. 
“There’s no cry,” Bradley mumbled, trying to figure out what was going on around him. The medical language that was being thrown around went right over Bradley’s head. But when the doctor told them to start moving, Bradley’s brain finally seemed to catch up with him. 
“Where are you going?” he asked, trying to follow them. 
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bradshaw, but you can’t come with us,” The doctor said, “We will have someone out to update you soon.” Bradley stood helplessly, as he watched the elevator doors close, the last glimpse he had was of her pale face and a doctor shocking her body.
It took nearly two hours of waiting until a doctor came out to update him. Bradley stood up and the doctor slowly took off her surgical cap, before guiding Bradley to sit back down in the chair. Bradley felt the blood rushing past his ears as the words left her mouth. He tried to understand the medical jargon, but it was simple.
“I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Bradshaw,” The doctor said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Th-the baby?” Bradley asked with tears in his eyes.
“She’s in the nursery,” The doctor gave him a sad smile. 
“She?” He asked softly. 
The doctor nodded, “yes, a little girl.”
“Can I see her?”
“Of course. Hey, Nurse Maggie? Will you take Mr. Bradshaw to the nursery,” The doctor called out to a nurse. She stopped in the hallway and nodded, “If you need anything at all,” The doctor handed Bradley a card, “You don’t hesitate to call, okay? I am so, so sorry Bradley.”
Bradley nodded and watched as the doctor departed before following the nurse to the nursery. Bradley’s breath caught in his throat as the nurse led him up to a tiny bed with a plastic box-type casing over it. All he could see were wires until he walked close enough to notice there was a tiny infant inside. 
“Her lungs aren’t fully developed yet,” The nurse said, “She’ll just need a little time in here to get nice and strong,” Bradley had never seen a baby so small in his life. She couldn’t have weighed more than a couple of pounds and looked like she could fit in the palm of his hand, “Do you want to hold-” 
“Will she make it?” Bradley asked, bluntly, looking at the nurse. 
The nurse swallowed, “Babies at twenty-six weeks are considered premature and they will need some time-” 
“That’s not what I asked,” Bradley said and then looked back at the tiny baby, “I asked will she survive. Will my daughter-” Bradley’s voice cracked as he placed his hand on the top of the incubator, “Will my daughter survive?” 
“It’s hard to say,” The nurse sighed, “Her lungs aren’t developed, and she had the cord wrapped around her neck. She wasn’t breathing for about forty-five seconds. It’s hard to know what the damage is to her brain.” 
Bradley nodded. 
“I think you should hold her,” The nurse encouraged, “If you don’t feel comfortable with that, at least hold her hand. Studies have shown that skin-to-skin contact has helped even the littlest of premies make it through.”  
“I can’t hold her,” Bradley shook his head, “I-I just can’t. . . not yet. But I can hold her hand.” 
The nurse nodded and walked to the incubator. She opened one of the arm holes on the side and grabbed Bradley a chair. He slowly sat down in the chair and reached his hand inside. He was right, she was the size of his hand. He gently pushed one of his fingers into her tiny fist and gasped as she held on to it. 
“Hi there,” Bradley whispered. 
“There you go,” The nurse smiled at him, “We contacted your partner’s family, do you want me to send them in when they get here?”
“Uh. . . No,” Bradley said. He wasn’t sure if he could face them. His mind was too focused on the sick little girl in front of him. It was all too much and he couldn’t imagine trying to deal with hysterical parents and them trying to see his daughter. Bradley already felt a sense of protection and his baby was only a mere hours old. 
“It’s just us,” Bradley said softly. 
“Press this button if you need anything,” The nurse said and Bradley nodded before she left the room.
Bradley stared down at the tiny baby that looked to be more tubes and wires than a human. She had the thinnest brown hair on her head, which surprised Bradley. He could remember his girlfriend complaining about heartburn and how the old wives’ tales said that was a sign that the baby would have a lot of hair. Even as tiny as she was, Bradley could already make out some of her features. That soft brown hair, and cute little nose. She had her mom’s ears and lips. 
“It’s just you and me, kid,” Bradley said, his voice cracking. He reached his other hand into the incubator and ran his fingertip over her hair, “I’m sorry. I wish you could’ve met her too. She… she was so amazing.” Bradley couldn’t help the tears running down his face, “You look like her. Which is probably bad news for me… cause you’re going to be a heartbreaker when you’re old enough to date.” 
He chuckled sadly, “But we’re gonna be okay, you and me. I only had one parent growing up and I turned out alright. Granted, my mother was a genius and a saint and I don’t know a single thing about parenting or raising a kid. . . but I think we’ll figure it out. . . Caroline.” 
At the sound of her name, the tiny baby turned her head ever so slightly towards the sound of Bradley’s voice. He watched in awe as her eyes opened briefly, showing those familiar brown eyes that matched his. 
Bradley smiled at her, “There you go baby girl. We’re gonna get through this.” 
After sitting by Caroline’s side for hours, a nurse came and replaced Bradley. Though he did put up some fight about leaving his daughter’s side, the nurse assured him that she would be right there the whole time. Bradley drove back home in silence, thinking of the list of things he had been putting off doing until later. One was putting the crib together, something that he had hoped to do with Maverick while his girlfriend and Penny decorated. His heart hurt just thinking about all the things she was going to miss out on. He remembered how heartbroken his own mother was that Goose was going to miss things like his first t-ball game, his first broken bone, teaching him how to drive, and getting to meet his grandchild. 
Bradley sat in the driveway for a moment, staring at the now-dark house. He forced himself to move from the Bronco and walk inside the house that was once bursting with warmth and excitement. Now it felt cold and lonely. He kicked his shoes off and walked up the stairs toward the room that was just across the hall from his bedroom. 
The only thing Bradley had done in the room so far was paint it a light gray and hang up the name sign above where the crib was supposed to go. Bradley sat down on the floor, his back against the wall and facing the sign. The name Caroline was illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the window, almost as if it was a call to Bradley. He folded his hands and tilted his head back. 
“Mom. . . Dad. . . if you’re listening,” Bradley sniffled, “I need help. I-I got a very sick little girl on my hands and I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing but I know that I am all she’s got, and she’s all I got,” Bradley’s body heaved as a sob ripped from his mouth. 
He couldn’t remember the last time he cried like this. The type of crying that puts you to sleep. It was probably a couple of weeks after his mom’s funeral. When he realized that he was truly on his own. That it really was just him in the world. And now, Bradley was realizing that he wasn’t alone anymore. There was someone else who shared the same DNA as him. Had the same brown hair. The same brown eyes. The same last name. There was someone who depended on him.
And it completely terrified him.
Tumblr media
taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17
218 notes · View notes
Text
Panic (Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader)
Author’s Note: So I started writing this last Tuesday (April 19th) and finished it this morning (April 27) before my first class; during lunch, I watched episode 5 and was devastated. I feel this fic takes on a completely different life now and holds some different weight behind it. Please heed the warnings. Enjoy! :)
Summary: You and Steven met each other at work. You are wonderful friends with one another, and each of you have feelings you don’t know quite how to voice. When someone from your past shows up at a museum, you shut down completely, and it’s Steven Grant (and Marc Spector) to the rescue.
Warnings: Angst (mention of past abusive relationship/domestic/physical abuse, mentions of blood/burning/hitting, panic attack/terror/anxiety), protective Steven!Marc!Khonshu, fluff, mutual pining. The “—” are a shift in POV from Reader to like 3rd person omniscient, I guess. Later when Steven and Marc talk, italics represent Steven and bold represent Marc.
Other Characters: Our main man Khonshu, Donna, JB, OFC (Theodore)
Word Count: 3,989
Tumblr media
You were the sunshine in Steven’s day, every day. It could be the best day in the world, and you would make it brighter; he could be exhausted, body aching, having the worst possible day, and he would see you and all the dark clouds would be pushed away. You were the best thing in his life. He’s never told you in so many words, but he’s done little things for you to try and show it. Some days he’d bring you coffee, other nights he’d say a bit later to walk you to the bus or your flat. On your birthday last year, he brought you a bouquet of Egyptian lilies, and he thought his heart would melt when your eyes lit up.
And this friendship-but-so-desprately-wanting-to-be-more-than-that was not singe-sided. You adore Steven. But Steven is so kind to everyone, you don’t know how to read his exact feelings towards you. A few months ago, he went on a date with one of the tour guides; even though it didn’t end well it didn’t mean it hurt any less when you found out he was seeing someone. And if you ever confessed how you felt and he didn’t feel the same way . . . Well, you don’t know how you could deal with that rejection. All you know is that you could never lose Steven. He was the best part of your day, your job, your life. 
“I mean, c’mon,” you insist as you lean against the register’s counter. “You have to admit it.”
“It does make him look quite knobbish,” Steven chuckles as you both peer over to JB.
“I mean, why?” you giggle. “Who told him a patchy porn ‘stache was a good call? Especially with that haircut!”
“Probably the same people that think Eye of Horus jellies are the best thing to sell at a gift shop.”
“At least those probably bring people joy.”
“Nah. I got curious one day and tried a pack. They’re quite terrible.”
The happiness that you feel radiating throughout your body when you’re with Steven is sucked right out of you as your gaze expands just past where JB flirts with a new tour guide. A face you never hoped to see again stares at one of the statues on display. There’s nothing particularly conspicuous about the man with the well-groomed hair, kind profile, and well-put-together appearance, but you know better.
“(Y/N)?” you hear Steven ask. It sounds like he’s been trying to get your attention for a long while. “Darlin’, you alright? You look as white as a ghost.”
You don’t respond, your breath only increases as a cold sweat breaks out all over your body. Pulling from the counter, you move as quickly as you can without drawing attention to somewhere that you can hide. Your feet move on autopilot, taking you to the stock room where you let all your anxiety and fear bubble up and take control.
“(Y/N)?” Steven asks as he opens the door. “What’s wrong?”
You can’t form words. You can only move as a way to try and put the adrenaline coursing through your body to good use. Your breathing only increases as hot tears prick at your eyes. Your back hits the wall and you brace yourself against it, just wanting to disappear into the plaster and drywall.
“Hey, hey, hey, c’mon now,” Steven says as he carefully approaches you. You continue to pant heavily against the wall, hand on your chest, feeling like the world is crashing in on you and suffocating you as your body shakes like a leaf.
“I can’t . . . I-I-I can’t breathe,” you huff, slowly sliding down the wall and into a small ball. “I-I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“You’re safe, I’m right here,” he says gently as he kneels down next to you. He takes one of your hands and places it on his chest as he puts one of his over your heart. “See? Right here. Right in the stock room. Just you and me. Nothing scary about the two of us, yeah? We’re friends. Nothing scary about that.”
“S-Steven. I-I . . .”
“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” 
“I—My—That man, w-with the gray button down,” you swallow hard. “H-He—He—.”
“You know him?”
“I do. I did. I do.”
“Alright, talk it out. You’re safe, love. It’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”
Tears prick at your eyes as you try to keep yourself steady.
“His name is Theodore,” you start. “We were together for two years. He was great at first, but then . . .” Your fingers move to the back of your neck. “They were just cigarettes, quick little stings. The stings turned to slaps, and then punches.” You hug your knees to your chest. “At his worst, he slammed me into a mirror and then threw me down on the glass. I tumbled down the stairs after that. Three broken ribs, fractured wrist, glass in my arms and abdomen. There was so much blood . . .” You swallow hard. “He went to jail. I took a protective order out. Oh no, oh God—did it expire? No, no, no . . .”
You don’t realize the torrent of tears running down your face until a wet plop hits your arm as you continue to mutter in fear and panic. When it does, you let out a violent sob and begin to weep. Steven wraps his arms around you, holding your head against his chest and a comforting arm around your shoulder. He whispers soothing reassurances into your hair as you try to remember what he said earlier to ground yourself to him. You’re safe, right here in the stock room. You’re with Steven. You’re safe with Steven. 
“What are you—?” you hear Donna’s voice cut through the stock room.
“Not now, Donna!” he snaps, stopping her storming footsteps in her tracks. “Tell JB to get security ready. You stay with (Y/N)—I need to take care of something.”
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, St—.”
He gets up and faces Donna. He’s never looked so bold before. “The man that abused (Y/N) and beat her within an inch of her life is in the museum,” he says lowly. “You stay here with her, radio over to JB and tell him to be ready, alright?”
Without waiting for a response, Steven walks out of the stock room and takes off his name tag, sliding it into his pocket. 
Steven wants to confront this pillock as himself, but he knows that he doesn’t exactly ooze intimidation, even when he’s as rilled up as he is right now. He doesn’t even need to call on Marc to front—he knows what to do.
“Really nice, huh?” Marc’s American accent rings quietly next to the man he wants to throw in front of a double decker bus. 
“It’s fine,” he shrugs at the mural hanging on the wall.
Marc takes a step closer, his voice entering a very threatening timbre. 
“I know why you’re here,” he growls. “And I think you should go.”
“I’m just here to look at some history. Besides, I’m free to be here. This is a public space,” he smirks. It seems innocent enough, but Marc recognizes the underlying venom in it.
“It is. But not for you. So unless you want to be escorted out—either by museum security or the police for violating a restraining order, you. Should. Go.”
“(Y/N) would never take out a restraining order against me.”
“Wouldn’t she? Because I believe by entering this museum, you’re in violation of the minimum required distance. So I suggest you leave now before you make a scene and become the source of gossip for the five different schools on field trips here today. If you don’t I will take care of you personally. And instead of being escorted out, you’ll be leaving in a body bag. Do I make myself clear?”
“What exactly will you do, pretty boy?” he sneers.
Khonshu briefly takes control, making Marc’s eyes glow a terrifying white. The man steps back in fear with wide eyes and a pale face. Without a word more, he takes some steps back and hurries out of the museum.
“Thanks, man,” Marc says to Khonshu.
No one threatens (Y/N) in such a manner, the god acknowledges. 
“How come you like her more than me?”
A lot of people are more likable than you. (Y/N) is too good for this mortal realm.
“That she is,” Marc sighs as he lets Steven front on the walk back to the storage room.
“Hey,” he whispers as he sits next to you on the floor, placing a careful hand on your knee. “It’s all over. He’s gone. It’s alright.”
“He is?” you ask.
“Gone,” he repeats. “Took care of him myself.” He looks up to Donna. “I think it’s best that (Y/N) go home for the rest of the day, maybe have tomorrow off too?”
“Yeah, no, exactly,” Donna says. So she does have a soul. “Take some time, (Y/N). Steven, why don’t you make sure she gets home alright, yeah?”
Steven offers you a hand and helps you stand, walking with a careful arm around your shoulder the entire way to the break room so you can grab your stuff. It’s like his embrace is helping hold you together, and you appreciate it so much. You undo your locker and grab your bag quickly before closing it and moving back towards Steven. As you pull the straps of your tote bag up on your shoulder, you stop dead in your tracks.
“I—He found where I work. What if he knows where I live?” you ask, your heart still racing like a hummingbird’s.
“He won’t bother you ever again, I promise you,” Steve assures you as he stands by your side. “But, if you’re uncomfortable going to your place, we . . . if you want . . . You could crash at my place for a day or two. You can have the mattress and everythin’. My, uh,—,” he clears his throat, “My sleepin’ disorder doesn’t let me do much with it other than sit and fiddle with a Rubik’s cube, so. It’d be good if it got used for it’s intended purposes, yeah?”
“I couldn’t put you out like that.”
Steven gives you a small smile. “But you’re not. I promise you, it’s no trouble at all.”
“As long as you’re sure I’m not gonna be an imposition on you, Steven.”
The look in his eyes that he gives you is so soft, and something seems to snap him out of it, because he starts to clumsily shake off his jacket. “You never could be,” he tells you, placing the warm article of clothing over your shoulders. “C’mon, then.”
Tumblr media
“Any milk for your tea?” he asks as he stirs in a tiny bit of sugar.
“No, thank you,” you say as he approaches and hands you the turquoise mug. You let the warmth from the ceramic spread into your hands. “Thank you. For, um, . . .”
“Don’t even think about it, love,” he tells you. “I just glad I was there and could do something for you.”
You give him a small smile as you bring your lips to the mug. “Steven Grant: Giftshoppist, lover of Egyptology, and knight in shining armor,” you hum before you take a sip of the soothing liquid. Color rushes to Steven’s face as he ducks his head, muttering some kind of thanks before he sips his own tea. “It’s a good list of titles.”
“Only issue is that I can’t ride a horse,” he nervously chuckles. “What kind of knight can’t ride a horse?”
“Batman?” you smirk. “He is the Dark Knight. No horse involved.”
“I don’t have my license, either,” he smiles softly. “No Batmobile for ole Steven with a ‘V’.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter.” You swallow hard. “I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand just how much it means to me, what you did.”
“Honestly, (Y/N), don’t even think about it.” He pinches the air in front of your forehead and throws an invisible something behind him. “See, out of mind.”
You give him a smile, your eyes gazing behind him and properly registering how many books he has. They catch my attention and you stand, your fingertips running over the spines.
“Wow,” you chuckle. “These are amazing.”
“You think so?” Steve asks, a new light beaming from his face. He gets up and joins you by the shelves, telling you all about the books and their contents. He grabs a few of them and you both sit back down on the couch, going through them together as Steven passionately tells you about Egypt. You listen attentively as he speaks, continuing to sip on your tea as he goes on, but your eyes eventually grow heavy.
“Oh, bugger,” he sighs as he looks at his watch. “I’ve talked your ear off for hours.”
“No, Steven, I’ve really enjoyed it. I love seeing you this happy about things,” you tell him. “I just don’t usually stay awake until—.” My eyes work to focus on the clock. “—1:14.”
“Well, then, I think it’s time you kip down, yeah?” he says with a tender smile. “I’ll grab you somethin’ to use for jammies. The bathroom is right over there, and there’s some extra toiletries and things in that tall side cupboard.”
Following Steven’s instructions, you freshen up. As you spit out the toothpaste in the sink, he gently knocks on the door. 
“I’ve got you a long sleeve and some loungers,” he announces through the door. “They’ll probably be a little roomy on you, but better than work clothes, yeah?”
You open the door and see Steven already changed into his pajamas. “Thank you, Steven,” you tell him softly as you take the clothes from his hands. He nods and leaves you be, and soon, you are out of the bathroom, placing your clothes on the seat of one of the chairs in the kitchen. Steven sits on the sofa, his reading glasses on as he curls towards the table lamp.
“Are you sure I can take the mattress?” you ask.
“Of course you can,” he smiles softly as he raises his book. “I’ve got Mr. Alexander the Great to keep me occupied.”
You can’t help but adore this man. He’s patient, kind, and so caring. As you walk to the bed, you detour behind the couch and place a kiss on top of his curly hair.
“Thank you,” you tell him as the air grows thick with nerves. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“G’night,” he says, his voice barely audible in the silent apartment.
Moving to the bed, you slide under the covers, letting the scent of Steven completely devour you. Not only is he in the clothes, he’s in the pillow, sheets—he’s in the wooden shelves behind the bed. You roll to your side and nestle your face into the pillows, taking in a deep breath to get as much of the smell of him as you can. It’s incredibly soothing, but every time you try to go to sleep, a fear radiates through your body and scares you awake. 
“Steven?” you ask, sitting up on the mattress.
“Mm?” he hums, gazing at you over his glasses as he lowers the pages of the book.
“Would you mind sitting with me until I feel asleep? It just feels like something is gonna grab onto me and suck me away.”
Steven knits his eyebrows together in tender concern, nodding his head as he drops the book in his hands, moving across the studio to slide in next to you on the mattress so he can hold you like earlier. You snuggle down on the mattress and rest your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat as loud and clear as a steady drum.
“You know, the ironic thing is, I was finally starting to make peace with it. I hadn’t thought about it in years. And then he comes in, and it’s like I’m in the thick of it all over again.”
“You’re safe,” Steven softly assures you as he adjusts his wrapped arms around your body. “I promise you.”
You lie there in silence for a few minutes, the warmth of his body and the beat of his heart help keep you present and not sliding into memories you have worked to suppress.
“Have I ever told you about the greatest love story in all of Ancient Egypt?” he says quietly.
“No,” you say as you nuzzle your head into his chest.
Steven’s thumb begins to rub up and down your arm absentmindedly. 
“One day, Osiris came down to Egypt to rule as Pharaoh; he was wise and powerful, and he helped Egypt prosper. His brother, Set, was jealous, so he arranged for a beautifully decorated and adorned sarcophagus to be made that fit his brother. That night, Set threw a big party where his brother was the guest of honor, and there was this game to fit in the sarcophagus. Once Osiris got in, Set slammed the lid shut and brought it down to the Nile and dumped it in. Isis grabbed her baby son, Horus, and got the hell out of dodge before they could get hurt. Once they were safe, she scoured the Nile to to look for the sarcophagus. Now here, tellin’s of the myth don’t line up exactly, but in some form or another Osiris’ body is found and it’s in fourteen separate pieces, so Isis and Nepthys put him back together to do the proper burial rituals and create the mummification process. The only issue is is that he’s missin’ his . . . well, little pharaoh, so Isis makes a temporary replacement. Once they’ve reverse Humpty-Dumpty’d Osiris, he comes back to life. But since he’s both alive and kind of dead, he becomes ruler of the underworld. Isis’ love and devotion to Osiris was so powerful, she wouldn’t even let death get in her way. It’s beautiful.”
“It makes you wonder if that kind of love still exists,” you say, just above a whisper.
“Of course it does. When you find the right person, that is. I guess half the trouble is finding that person, innit? But then it’s all worth it when you do.”
“If you do.”
“Don’t think like that. Of course you will find the right person. It’s me who oughta be worried.”
The silence is loud, and you swallow hard. “I’d search the Nile for your sarcophagus,” you confess. It sounds utterly morbid, but the sentiment behind it is genuine. You love Steven, and you have for probably as long as you have known him. You feel Steven’s breath hitch and can hear his heart begin racing before he places a careful cheek on the top of your head. 
“I think I’d do just about anythin’ for you,” he breathes.
Your heart flutters, and as much as you want to hold him, kiss his lips, pour out your heart to him, you just can’t do it. Not after how this day has gone. You’d never want Steven to think you’re advancing onto him because of your own trauma. You turn your body around and bury a majority of your face into his soft waffle shirt. Oh, it smells amazing. It smells like him—sandalwood, vanilla, and old books. You want nothing more than for this smell to fill your lungs until they overflow, all your senses being absorbed into Steven.
She looks so beautiful.
I know. I love her.
I know. I do, too.
But we can’t exactly tell her that now.
Well, yeah, not now. Thank you, for earlier.
You know I’d do anything for her. Just like you would.
Steven shifts his gaze down to look at the top of her head. Her hair looks so shiny, she’s so warm, and she smells so good. If this was the moment that he died, he’d be fine with it; holding onto her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against his body, inhaling nostril fulls of just pure you . . . His heart races when you give him hugs, and you lying on him is like a hug on steroids. He feels euphoric.
I feel like my heart is gonna burst straight out of my chest if I don’t tell her. No one has ever made me feel like this.
Steven—.
I know, but, it feel like I’m leading her on—manipulating her. It’s not fair to her. She should know. She should know about you, too.
I agree, but, she’s been through a lot today. You know that, I know that, Khonshu knows that. We just . . . we need to wait.
“Steven?” you ask quietly, your voice slightly muffled by his shirt.
“Yea?” he asks. He sounds almost taken off guard.
“I love you,” you admit. If not now, you don’t think you’ll ever have the guts to tell him. “I have for a while. And after everything that happened today, well, I want you to know. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The longer Steven stays silent, the worse you feel. You’ve ruined it. You’ve ruined it all, and you’re gonna lose the most incredible, kind, and loving man you have ever met because you told him you’ve been in love with him since you met him.
“Why me?” he breathes, his voice mixed with shock and awe. “I’m . . . I work at a gift shop.”
You move out of his hold and look at him, your heart hurting at the sentiment.
“You can’t really think that’s all you are, Steven,” you say softly. Now you want to cry for a different reason.
“You’re just so, personable and wonderful and kind and intelligent,” he responds. “I just don’t understand why you see me like that.”
Tears pick at your eyes. “Because you saw me when I felt invisible. You were kind to me when you didn’t have to be. You care so much. There’s no one else like you, Steven. I’ve never felt safer with anybody in my life than I do with you.” You close your eyes and take a breath. “I should have said something sooner, and I—.”
You don’t get to finish your sentence. Steven cuts you off with the biggest, tightest of hugs. One arm is firmly wrapped around your waist while the other is gripped firmly around the back of your neck. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath feeling so comforting on your skin. You hold him back just as tightly, afraid to let him slip away.
“I love you so much,” he mutters into your skin. “I didn’t want to lose you, so I’ve said nothing for years, and for years I’ve regretted it when I come home from work. I try to tell you every day, and every day you take my breath away so much, I bloody well lose my nerve. I’m sorry I never told you.”
You inhale his scent and play with the hair at the nape of his neck. You want to absorb Steven into your body. This man is unlike any human you have ever met, and he feels the same way about you that you do him.
“Steven?” you ask into his shoulder. “Can you . . . Can you stay with me tonight?”
He runs a hand over your hair to smooth down the locks.
“Of course,” he whispers. “Come on, then.”
Keeping a tight hold on you, he slowly lies you down on the mattress, resting you on the pillows and pulling the blankets over your bodies. If you felt comforted in Steven’s sheets before, you’re now the epitome of tranquil as you lie with him in bed, letting your eyes close as you fall asleep on his chest.
Tumblr media
Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​​​​​​​​​ @steampowerednightvaler​​​​​​​​​​ @themusingsofmany​​​​​​​​​​ @just-the-hiddles​​​​​​​​​​ @toozmanykids​​​​​​​ @dangertoozmanykids101​​​​​​ @clints-worldavengers
3K notes · View notes
Note
Sending virtual hugs! 🌸
I’m wondering about your thoughts on Xie Lian and how he views Hua Cheng and the Gambling Den.
He expressed to Hua Cheng his concerns about how dangerous it is, and let it go when he understood that he and Hua Cheng have differing views on the matter.
It makes me wonder how things would have unfolded if the man who gambled to have his competitors die or give his daughter’s life and marriage if he lost, had been able to complete his bet without interruption. Like how much is Hua Cheng involved in something like that?
Would that man simply have walked away with the luck he needed to get what he wanted? I can’t see Hua Cheng actively hunting down and killing those people.
But I can see him allowing the man the luck needed to make his desires come true - so not actively engaging but not interfering with the man’s terrible decisions - kind of like with how he dealt with He Xuan.
I’m not completely sold on that thought though…😅 your thoughts?
Thank you! 🌸
And thank you for your ask! I love talking about Ghost City :3
I've thought about similar things regarding the Gambler's Den, but ultimately, I think it's on purpose that we don't find out for sure and are left to wonder. Especially since, at this point in the story, both the reader and Xie Lian are still slowly uncovering who Hua Cheng is as a person.
When we look at this scene after everything is revealed, I think it's quite clear from the mockingly derisive way he talks to him that Hua Cheng did not like that guy, and I wonder if he would even have taken that second bet if Xie Lian and the others hadn't been there - he seems to have a pretty good understanding of Lang Qianqiu's character when be talks about him with Xie Lian later, so I can see him use that second bet as a lure to make Lang Qianqiu cause a commotion. Because then Hua Cheng gets to "discover" that Xie Lian and the others are there, which means he has a reason to invite Xie Lian to Paradise Manor, which is necessary to make that whole "have them rescue 'Ming Yi' so that He Xuan's cover isn't blown" plan work.
As an aside, though of course Hua Cheng is always happy when he gets to spend time with Xie Lian, I think he must have deeply hated deceiving him like this. It speaks to how much he values his arrangement with He Xuan and how vital the information He Xuan provides is to him - which is proven when right after this, the whole Fang Xin reveal happens. Without He Xuan monitoring what's happening in heaven and relaying the information to him, Hua Cheng wouldn't have known that Xie Lian got locked inside his palace and couldn't have come to rescue him.
Back to the topic at hand though. I think it's worth looking at the actual dialog when Xie Lian and Hua Cheng discuss the den because there's so much in there:
After some hesitation, Xie Lian spoke up again. "San Lang, it may be out of line for me, but I still have to say it. That Gambler's Den of yours is incredibly dangerous. Won't it blow up in your face one day?"
A place that allowed the betting of sons and daughters and people's lives, granting wishes for others' sudden deaths - it was dreadfully sinful. Never mind a little brawl; if one day the bets got out of hand, the Heavenly Realm wouldn't be able to stay on the sidelines.
Hua Cheng gave him a look.
"Your Highness, did you ask Lang Qianqiu why he had to jump into that mess?"
Xie Lian was slightly taken aback, not quite understanding the intent of the question.
Hua Cheng continued, "I bet he must have told you that if he didn't do it, no one else would."
He was amazingly on the mark, obviously having seen through Lang Qianqiu.
"That's indeed what he said." Xie Lian admitted.
"Then I'm the complete opposite," Hua Cheng said. "If I don't control a place like this, then someone else will. I'd rather that person be me."
Xie Lian knew when to back down, and he nodded. "I understand."
It seemed, although Hua Cheng was the sentimental sort, he also cared more about control and power than Xie Lian realized.
It's fascinating that it we look at what Xie Lian actually says and thinks here, what he mainly seems to be worried about is what would happen to Hua Cheng and his friendship with Hua Cheng should Jun Wu be given reason to actively start going against him. Which is also what Xie Lian worries about during this entire mission - what will happen if it turns out Hua Cheng is involved with a heavenly official's disappearance and heaven retaliates, what will happen if he's not involved and Xie Lian has destroyed their friendship by deceiving him. It doesn't matter to Xie Lian that Hua Cheng is a Ghost King and that they're technically on opposite sides - he's decided based on his own experiences and judgment that Hua Cheng is a good person and a good friend, and he's already at this point very protective of him. Especially since he's not unaware that the heavenly realm in general and Jun Wu in particular do not share his opinion on Hua Cheng, and the political implications thereof:
Jun Wu turned around. "Tell me, what kind of extraordinary character did you engage with when you descended this time?"
Xie Lian raised his hand. "My Lord, I swear I did nothing. Just, one day by chance, I encountered an interesting young man on the road, and we spent some time together. I didn't think much of it."
Ju Wu nodded. "Chance encounter, young man, Supreme Ghost King. Xianle, surely you are aware what the consequences would be if Ming Guang was to question you further and you confessed to this in front of the other officials? No one would believe you."
"Xianle knows," Xie Lian replied woefully. "So, I'm grateful for My Lord's timely intervention. My Lord, you're not actually going to interrogate me, are you? I wouldn't collude with the Ghost Realm. These are absurd concerns."
"Naturally, I know you would not intentionally collude with the Ghost Realm," Jun Wu said.
"I'm grateful for My Lord's trust," Xie Lian replied.
Xie Lian is definitely stretching the truth here with the "I didn't think much of it" part, given that by the end of his investigation in Banyue, he damn well knew that the "interesting young man" was Supreme Ghost King Hua Cheng, and then he kept spending time with him regardless. He's very careful about protecting their friendship by downplaying it and being vague, and further than that, he's very careful about protecting Hua Cheng. We've already seen this earlier when Pei Ming was interrogating him - Xie Lian even pretended not to know who that "red-clothed young man" was because he rightfully deduced that Pei Ming would try to use Hua Cheng as a scapegoat to get Xiao Pei off the hook. Then when Pei Ming does try to pin the whole thing on Hua Cheng, Xie Lian immediately speaks up in his defense:
"General Pei, let's keep things clear and separate. Let's not talk about whether the young man I traveled with was Hua Cheng or not. At the very least, even if he was indeed Hua Cheng, that has nothing to do with what General Pei Junior has done. A Supreme Ghost King might have the worst possible name on people's tongues, but not everything can be blamed on him."
I find it very telling that the reason Xie Lian is being so carefully vague is less so he himself won't get into trouble and more that he's very aware that if Hua Cheng gets wrongfully accused, no one will question it simply because of who and what Hua Cheng is. And it's that kind of injustice and prejudice that Xie Lian will always stand up against. At this point he still completely trusts Jun Wu, but when it comes to Hua Cheng, Xie Lian not only disagrees but actively disobeys, though he's careful about how much of that he shows in front of Jun Wu:
Jun Wu shook his head. "I should not comment on the friends you make, but I will say this: Be careful of Hua Cheng."
Hearing this, Xie Lian bowed his head slightly, keeping his eyes down and saying nothing. He should've responded with "Yes, My Lord," as he should have been able to say yes with ease by that point. Yet, for some reason, he really didn't want to say that particular "yes".
Hua Cheng likewise also understands his and Xie Lian's respective positions and is careful not to endanger Xie Lian. Like here, when he explains why he put up somewhat of an act of not knowing Xie Lian because there were other heavenly officials present:
"Since gege is here, why not come in? We haven't been apart for that long, so don't be a stranger to San Lang."
At his beckoning, Xie Lian let down the beaded curtain. "Earlier in the Gambler's Den, it was San Lang who pretended not to recognize me."
Hua Cheng approached and stopped at Xie Lian's side. "Lang Qianqiu was there too, so if I didn't put on an act, I'd be giving gege trouble."
Or here when he's content to be accused of having maliciously kidnapped Xie Lian if that means Xie Lian won't be suspected of resisting his arrest and made to look guilty:
Xie Lian finally understood. Shi Qingxuan could see that Hua Cheng had no ill intent, but on the surface, they had to pretend that Hua Cheng had only barged into the Heavens to collect his due. It would prevent gossip from those how might suggest that Xie Lian had maliciously and intentionally absconded. Hua Cheng understood Shi Qingxuan's intent and had played along. However, Xie Lian didn't want to go this route.
"All right, stop acting. He only came to the Heavens to save me. San Lang had good intentions, so why conceal them?"
Hua Cheng does this to protect Xie Lian, but Xie Lian likewise wants to protect him. This has ended up quite long-winded, but I wanted to look for more evidence of why I think that Xie Lian mainly brought up the Gambler's Den because he's worried that the bets could end up endangering Hua Cheng himself.
Hua Cheng sincerely thanks Xie Lian for his concern, but makes it clear that he doesn’t quite agree, and I think it's worth looking into why that is.
I've seen Hua Cheng be described as completely amoral by fans, but I don't think that's how the text actually portrays him. He certainly can be quite critical and cynical with his views on both humans and gods, but his reasoning for establishing and keeping the den isn't "I don't care what happens there" or "I want places like this to exist for my own gain". He is, at least from his perspective and based on his experiences, simply being grimly realistic about how if he forbids these kinds of bets, the people who want to conduct them will simply move underground and do their gambling in secret. So not only will these bets happen either way, someone else will eventually take control of such a place, and Hua Cheng doesn't trust that such a person wouldn't take advantage of it.
Hua Cheng isn't amoral, he just has his own perspective on morality and justice. He's also not passive and uncaring in the face of what he perceives as wrong and unjust, but he doesn't really talk about that openly unless prompted. Like here during the Black Water arc, when they discuss the scroll with (supposedly) the names of victims of the Reverend of Empty Words:
Xie Lian turned to Hua Cheng. "San Lang, you said it's full of outrageous mistakes. How so?"
Hua Cheng scooted over to him, they were now sitting much closer than before. Hua Cheng pointed at a few names. "These are wrong."
Xie Lian looked at the names closely; all of them were known to be lawless, malevolently evil tyrants. "How do you know?"
"Because I killed them," Hua Cheng said.
Hua Cheng deeply hates people who abuse the power they wield, to the point that he personally acts against them. I think this ties in well with his reasoning about the Gambler's Den. I don't think there's anything in the text that suggests Xie Lian is upset to realize that Hua Cheng cares more about power and control than he'd thought, just surprised - until he comes to Ghost City, Xie Lian has mostly been around the very laid-back "San Lang", and this is the first time he's encountered Hua Cheng in his own territory, where he's a Ghost King ruling over the largest settlement within the ghost realm.
Also Xie Lian doesn't know this yet, but given everything we later learn about Hua Cheng's past, I think it's quite obvious that Hua Cheng's preoccupation with the power and control he wields, as well as his contempt for those who abuse theirs, is rooted deeply in the trauma he's gone through. Control in particular is a huge thing for him for several reasons, one of the main ones being that as a child, he was repeatedly punished for things outside his control, and he internalized that pattern to the point where he now punishes himself for things outside his control, as is shown repeatedly when he decides he's failed Xie Lian in some way. But I'm going to go into more detail about this in my Hua Cheng + trauma responses meta.
Lastly, I think it's important to keep in mind that the text makes clear that even when Xie Lian and Hua Cheng disagree, rather than a point of conflict it's actually proof of how strong and healthy their relationship is. I've sometimes seen fans (not you) portray their relationship as Xie Lian being irritated with Hua Cheng's attitude towards others, having him either be somewhat grudgingly resigned to it or actively trying to change Hua Cheng's behavior. But when we actually look at the text, we realize that nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the opposite is the case - Xie Lian is incredibly protective of him and repeatedly gets defensive when others judge and blame Hua Cheng. I'm gonna examine that in more detail in my hualian meta though, so for now, I hope this turned out a satisfying answer!
71 notes · View notes
yurinaa-world · 5 months
Note
Could I request the octatrio with a fem Bennett (genshin impact) like she's really unlucky and always gets herself hurt because I think it would be really cute (specifically with floyd) but yeah so bye ♡
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Characters: Azul, Jade, and Floyd x Female Reader
Synopsis: With Bennett reader
Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes,
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝒜𝓏𝓊𝓁 𝒜𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜
Tumblr media
Don’t come near the Mostro Lounge, like don’t even come within a 50-meter radius of it, because he ain’t risking his business and those expensive drinks to shatter all over the ground because someone threw a toothpick on the floor. You slipped on it, the drink your hand didn’t spill, but the straw fell, poked another person in the eye, and their hot drink fell on another person. Who knows what happened next, and now the spilled drinks are on the floor.
Don’t bother to pay it off either. He once came to regret making you work in the lounge; it ended up in you binding the steel tray in half! the ice-cold drinks all over you, with sharp pieces of glass all over the ground.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“You seem to come here a lot and break things." Azul gives you a fake smile, but you can tell that he doesn’t want you anywhere close to his beloved Mostro lounge; not that you don’t feel bad, of course you do; you feel terrible about: you always end up breaking something without even wanting to! But since your curse, what can you do? But not this time!
“I’m sorry about everything that happened.” You apologize. Bring out the thing you kept behind your back, a bouquet of flowers that messed up. “I know these flowers don’t look good. I tried to get pretty ones, but somebody already has them." “I’ll take them,” he sighs, taking the flowers from your hand.
"I'll put them in my office.” Hearing those words made me smile brightly. “You don’t have to, but I’m grateful,” he said, smiling a real one this time.
𝒥𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝑒𝒸𝒽
Tumblr media
He dealt with floyd making problems and messes wherever you went, but you, on the other hand, just break anything you touch or when slipped backwards with glasses in your hands and they break right beside your head and cut your face a little.
He’s your personal first aid kit, always there to patch you up whenever you get hurt, big or small.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“I’m sorry for making a mess,” you apologize while Jade puts another bandage on one of the cuts on your face. "There's nothing to worry about, but you should be more careful.” He gives his signature smile. “I know, I know but what about the glasses? Azul will be really mad.” You worry before Jade puts another bandage on.
“He won’t be too mad. I’ll try to talk to him." Jade reassures you before putting on the final band aid on your forehead (where most of the cuts were) and before giving you a pat on the head. “Is there anywhere you can be taken care of?" "No, but thank you for helping me!” You smile, with a little pink colour on your cheeks.
𝐹𝓁𝑜𝓎𝒹 𝐿𝑒𝑒𝒸𝒽
Tumblr media
Just picks you up and walks you out of the mostro lounge. Why? Well, because you're always making a mess wherever you go, it’s fun to watch and all, but Azul is going to get mad, and he does want to hear feet stomp like he’s in a tantrum again, so out you go, but in a nice way.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Hi Floy-“ you stop midway for Floyd to grab you and put you over his shoulder. "Sorry, shrimpy, you can’t be here. You make too many messes." Floyd sighs as if he’s sad. "Um, Floyd, if I’m not allowed anymore, I could just leave myself without you carrying me.” You smile awkwardly, trying to get him to let go of you.
"No, I'm going to take my own life." "Why" and “just because” you just let go on with the act, since pushing him more will just make him throw you into the water fountain. Not that he hasn’t done that already, though.
Tumblr media
if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!
129 notes · View notes
works-of-fanfiction · 8 months
Text
Empty Spaces || Lando Norris x ex!Reader
Summary: Lando and Y/N broke up a few months ago but can’t seem to stay away from each other. 
Song: affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS 
Warnings: Implied smut and mentions of sex. Swearing and a lil’ bit of angst. 
Word Count: 3.2k
a/n: I told y’all I’m in my Lando era! please listen to the above song if you have a minute; it really describes how I imagined the characters to feel during this oneshot. enjoy! 
Tumblr media
"I love you." 
“No, you don’t.”  
Those three fateful words rolled off of Lando's tongue too easily. The flick of the L, the rounding of the O, teeth meeting at the V, it was like muscle memory for him. It was easy to say he loved her when she was lying naked in his bed, her chest rising and falling slowly, hair splayed across the pillow. It was like Groundhog Day for them. They’d fuck, followed by an awkward silence, followed by Y/N rushing to the bathroom then returning with her eyes glued to the floor. She’d lie on the very edge of the bed as far away from him as possible and try to catch her breath whilst she thought about every reason why she shouldn’t have let it happen again. 
The thing about sleeping with an ex is that it’s just too easy. It’s not simple, but so. damn. easy. You eliminate the trouble of meeting someone new and pretending to care about their family dog, or their little niece who just took her first steps. Instead, you’re able to climb on top of, or lie beneath probably one of the only people in the world who know exactly what you want and exactly how you want it. And in those few moments when it’s just two bodies messily colliding, the people within those bodies don’t need to think about the terrible decision they’re making. Lando had certainly never regretted a thing with Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist. 
She liked to call their little liaisons ‘accidents’. In her mind, showing up to his door with a bottle of wine in less than acceptable clothing was nothing more than a mishap. The temporary fun and the need for familiarity completely clouded her judgement, at least until the deed was done. Being beneath Lando delayed the agonising process of getting over him. Regrettable sex was somehow less painful than facing their reality and accepting that they were no longer meant for each other. How were the two supposed to let go of the person they’d once considered to be their soulmate? 
Tumblr media
“You’re hogging the bottle again.” Y/N groaned, reaching over to snatch the wine from Lando’s grasp. 
“That just proves I need it more.” 
Drinking had become a great distraction for them. The sex was a distraction from the breakup, and the booze was a distraction from the sex, and they couldn’t have one without the other. 
Y/N laid on the floor whilst Lando sat propped against the wardrobe with one elbow resting on his knee. He plucked at the carpet absentmindedly, the friction reddening the tips of his fingers. His eyes wandered around the room and Y/N watched on, wondering what was going through his head. Was he overthinking everything just as much as she was? 
After four months of back and forth fighting, they’d fallen out of sync. No amount of love or history shared could protect them from the inevitable. They made each other miserable, and as much as they tried to fix and talk through it, it wasn’t enough. It was when Y/N failed to show up for the Spanish Grand Prix that Lando realised it was really over. Every time their schedules aligned, he’d bought her a plane ticket and tracked her flight until the very second she landed. Spain was no different, despite the condition their relationship was in. She’d gotten the email as usual, the PDF attached and a little ‘can’t wait to see you’ message from Lando. It was the first time the message had felt like a lie. He couldn’t possibly be excited to see her, and she knew seeing him would crush her completely. She had to change her phone wallpaper to one of the default landscapes to avoid staring at his face every time she got a text. 
Y/N grimaced as she sipped the wine, pulling the bottle back to read the label. After polishing off the petrol station’s finest Malbec, the best Lando could offer was a bottle of Pinot Grigio he found in the back of the cabinet, which was evidently not her favourite. Despite her distaste, she went back for another swig, swallowing hard so the liquid would barely graze her tongue. 
Silence fell between them, not awkward but filled with uncertainty. Lando’s head was littered with questions, but he found it almost impossible to focus with her sprawled out on his floor, legs bare and his t-shirt hardly covering her. He wanted to climb on top of her, crawl all over her and devour every inch until she was crying and begging him to take her back and love her all over again. Realistically, he knew it wouldn’t work and they’d never go back to how they used to be, but he didn’t know how to let go. A selfish part of him wanted to hold on and keep her around, despite just how much it was hurting them both. Every time he let those words slip out, they left a sour taste in his mouth, and a bruise on Y/N’s heart. She couldn’t stand hearing those words uttered when they had no weight behind them, but she’d much rather take those over no words at all.
The first time she’d showed up to his apartment after hours, it felt like he’d somehow wished her into existence. It had been a particularly hard weekend following tons of media appearances and unwelcome questions. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t do anything right by the media; even an improved performance in Austria wasn’t enough to get them off his back. Having a thousand people congratulate him felt great, but there were always people whispering in the background - it was a one-off. It was a fluke! McLaren can’t keep giving this kid so many chances. 
Arriving back in the UK ready for Silverstone was bittersweet, as his excitement was clouded by the pressure and prying eyes of fans, reporters, and everyone in between. He didn’t know who he could turn to as his feelings felt so trivial, and it crossed his mind just how easy it once was to talk to Y/N and offload everything that had been weighing him down. It was strange for her not to be there, so when the notification pinged on his phone that there had been movement detected by the Ring camera, he was surprised to see her standing on his doorstep. The image was blurry but it was unmistakably Y/N, as she rocked back and forth on her heels, one hand clutching a bottle, the other tucked into the pocket of her - Lando’s - hoodie. 
“…Hi.” 
“Hi.” 
“I uh, saw the result from Austria.” 
“Oh yeah?” 
“You did great. Really uh… Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing here.” 
“Neither do I.” 
Unsure what to say, she thrust the bottle into Lando’s chest and he felt forced to take it. “Thank you… I guess.” 
“Yeah.” She hesitated for a second, hands coming up as if she was ready to speak, but instead she turned and started to walk away. 
“Y/N.” 
“Yeah?” She spun quickly, looking back at the doors that once led into her home; looking back at the man she’d once considered to be her home. 
“What are you doing here?” 
He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. She wasn’t sure she really had one. Something in her told her that she needed to see him, and before she could think it through, she was already halfway down the motorway with the bottle of Rosé she’d been given on her last birthday rolling across the backseats. 
That night, he made the mistake of inviting her inside and popping open the bottle to pour them both a larger than average glass. He made the mistake of confiding in her, telling her everything about the Austrian Grand Prix and how it still welcomed unpleasant press despite his P4 result. He made the mistake of hugging her, sinking into her chest and inhaling the scent that once grounded him and reminded him he was safe. He didn’t mean to kiss her, and she didn’t mean to run her hands through his curls as she kissed him back. She wasn’t supposed to push his shorts down and climb on top of him on the sofa, and he never should have whispered how much he’d missed her as he came inside her.  
After his podium at Silverstone, Y/N had frequented his apartment a lot in the two weeks before he left for Hungary. The first time was to ‘congratulate’ him and he was more than happy to celebrate with her on her knees before him. They couldn’t stay away from each other after that. As long as they had alcohol in their systems, they couldn’t seem to control their urges. It was when the effects wore off that the regret started to seep in. 
They didn’t miss each other outside of the intimacy and affection. There was nothing left to mourn about their tumultuous relationship; the constant fights and distance keeping them apart. Y/N tried to attend as many races as possible, but a race weekend wasn’t exactly ideal for spending time with her boyfriend. He was far too busy on the track, and she was often left to mingle with strangers or keep herself occupied at the hospitality unit. The most quality time she got with him was being there when he passed out in their hotel room, leaving her to order room service and eat it quietly in the corner alone. 
“Lando.” 
“Yeah?” 
“Can you come here?” 
“Okay.” 
Gently taking the bottle from her hand, Lando placed it on the drawers before lying down beside her on the ground. The carpet rubbed harshly against his back as he wriggled to get comfortable. The two laid flat, staring up at the ceiling where a light bulb had recently gone out that Lando had meant to change. Y/N had joked about it creating mood lighting a couple weeks ago, and that one little remark had stopped him from taking the new bulb out of its box. 
Hesitantly, she walked her fingers along the carpet until they met his. The slight touch made heat rush through Lando’s hand and up his arm, and his chest tightened as she linked her little finger with his. She didn’t have it in her to hold his hand properly. She thought if she did, all the hurt and sadness would flood to the surface and she’d be a sobbing mess on the floor. As much as they craved each other’s touch, joining hands felt too intimate compared to having sex. The smaller, softer touches terrified them.  
“I think we should stop this.” Y/N thought out loud. 
“You think we should?”
“I think we need to.” She turned her head, Lando turning his at the same time. He tightened his grip on her finger, dreading the feeling of her letting go. This wasn’t the first time they’d tried to have this conversation, but the very same sick feeling still swirled around in his stomach. If they stopped this, they’d have to promise never to see one another again, and neither were sure they could do that.
“Okay.” 
“Okay? Is that all you’re going to say? Okay?” She propped herself up on her elbows and he followed, mirroring her. 
“What else do you want me to say? I can’t beg you to keep doing this.” 
But that was exactly what she wanted. She hated how disassociated they’d become, and how having sex had moulded into some fucked up routine they couldn’t get out of. She wanted to feel something, for it all to mean something but it didn’t. It really was just sex. Just seriously messed up sex between two exes that couldn’t face the facts and let the breakup be final. All the times he’d accidentally said he missed her or loved her had been exactly that - accidents. 
“I just… I don’t know what this is, what it means.” Her voice got stuck in her throat as if something was telling her to keep her feelings to herself. 
“I thought we agreed it meant nothing.” 
“Did we? Or did we just say that to make ourselves feel better?” 
She sat up, scooting to sit against the bed frame. Bringing her knees to her chest, she hugged herself tightly, begging herself not to get upset in front of Lando. He shuffled over, sitting opposite with his feet almost overlapping hers. “I can’t pretend this doesn’t hurt, because it does.”
“…I know.” He agreed quietly, looking down to fidget with his fingers. She stared at the top of his head, the mound of curls unruly from her touch.
It made her sad just to look at him. The memories would come flooding back like a tidal wave, and she didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to hit him, scream at him for breaking her heart and ruining what they had. She wished she could turn back time and never meet him or develop some kind of magic power to erase her own memory and make him disappear. At the same time, she longed to hold him, to tangle her body with his and never let go. Imagining her life without him in it made no sense. He had been a constant for two years, so how could she completely cut him off and forget about him?
“Nothing good can come of this.” She spoke, mostly to convince herself.
“I know.”
Y/N sighed in frustration, throwing her arms down to the ground. “You know? That’s all you can say?”
Lando didn’t know how to respond. Did she expect him to offer her advice? How could he comfort her when he was in the exact same position?
“Tell me what to do Lando, just tell me.” Tears began to well in her eyes, threatening to fall as she bit the inside of her cheeks. “I… I don’t think I can keep doing this, but I can’t… Fuck.” The first tear slid down her cheek, and she pawed at her face to wipe it away before he saw.
“Y/N…” He reached out to touch her, but she pulled her arm away. “Y/N, come on.”
“Don’t do that. Please don’t.” She closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing to try and stop the tears from flowing. “You broke my heart, Lando.” She whispered, saying the words aloud for the first time.
“And you broke mine.”
She looked up, meeting his gaze. Her eyes stung as she looked at him, studying the anguish in his brow and the tightening of his lips. “I… I’m sorry.”
“Are you? Are you? Because you’re the one who showed up at my door and didn’t give me the chance to get over you.” Lando hissed, his tone far more aggressive than he intended. He saw how this upset her and immediately rose to his knees to inch closer to her. “Y/N, I didn’t – “
“No, you’re right. I should never have showed up and practically begged you to fuck me. This is all my fault, that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?” She seethed, anger mixing with her sadness to create a truly messed up cocktail of emotions.
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant, right? If I’d never shown up here after Austria, none of this would’ve happened, we wouldn’t be in this mess, and you would have moved on.”
“How do you know that?” He asked, sinking back down to sit cross-legged. “Go on, tell me. How could you possibly know that? Do you really think I could move on that easily?”
“But you just - “ 
“Yes, I know what I said.” He sighed, holding his head in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. “I’m not blaming you. This is just as much my doing as yours.” 
Silence fell between them again, Y/N’s tears drying and Lando’s pounding heart slowing to its regular pace. How many times were they going to have the same conversation? What two people spent more time discussing their breakup than actually going through it? 
He moved towards her, seeking consent in her eyes before sitting down. She nodded, tucking her elbows in so he could comfortably sit next to her. Laying her hand on the ground, Lando placed his on top and slotted his fingers between hers. 
“This is shit.” She declared.
“This is shit.” He agreed. 
Once again, they turned their heads to look at each other simultaneously. The redness in her water line and the tears trapped in her eyelashes made Lando’s chest ache. He wished there was something he could do to take the pain away and make this easier for the both of them. He was yet to cry over the breakup as he mostly felt numb inside, but he knew it would come eventually. He feared it. He didn’t want to cry, especially not over something he could’ve prevented if he’d tried hard enough. 
Y/N analysed Lando’s blank expression, the dark bags beneath his eyes making his entire face appear duller. She hated seeing him like this, as he’d always been so unbelievably full of life and constantly smiling. She wondered how much sleep he’d been getting. Was he cradling his pillow to fill the empty space in his arms at night? Or was she the only one who needed the comfort of something to hold in order to drift off? 
With their faces so close, they could feel each other breathing. Instinctively, Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed, her breaths becoming more shallow as Lando tilted his face closer. Curling his finger under her chin, he guided her towards him. “If we do this, it has to be the last time.” He whispered, his bottom lip grazing hers, eliciting a gasp from deep within her chest. 
“The last time.” She breathed, desperate for him to kiss her. He closed the gap between them, softly pressing his lips against hers. Quietly, she moaned into his mouth as he opened it just enough for her to slide her tongue past his lips. Tasting traces of the white wine on each other’s tongues, they laid back down on the carpet, Lando keeping a hand beneath her head for support.
She hooked her legs around his hips to pull him closer as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. He groaned, reaching down to push his shorts past his knees. Y/N balanced on her back, lifting her ass in the air so he could undress her with ease.
Their night ended how it always did. They held each other close as Lando fucked her slowly, trying to delay the moment for as long as possible. Over and over they told each other it would be the last time, knowing that they were lying to themselves.
It wouldn’t be the last time. 
343 notes · View notes
luna-writes-stuff · 4 months
Text
Bliss, Robin Buckley
Song link
Fanfic, fem! reader
Mutual pining, fluff
Word count: 1720
Tw: SAPPHICS. Steve is a wingman. One (1) mention of being drugged (Robin S3). Literally, that’s it. Maybe slight homophobia because it’s the 80s, yay!
Summary: You are a regular customer at the movie rental store where Steve and Robin work, but you’ve shown an increasing interest in Robin. Both of you are too oblivious to make a move. Thankfully, Steve is there to fix it.
Buy me a coffee/force me to write more
Tumblr media
“Everything about you is how I'd wanna be.
Your freedom comes naturally.”
You were infuriating.
Every little thing about you seemed so perfect. Even those things that could be considered inconvenient or annoying - you were fucking perfect. You were so frustrating. How could she ever focus during work when you were right there? Did you really have to keep visiting the store every two days? Did you really have to keep making conversations with her about literally anything? God, it was starting to get her worked up for no reason.
She would ramble, and it would usually cause people to start losing interest. But you embraced it. You laughed at her and indulged her in whatever she was talking about. You’d nod and add your own quips that weren’t your usual polite ‘oh yeah’ and ‘mhm’. No - you were actually listening to what she was saying. It was terrible.
Whenever you’d walk in, her heart would skip a beat and she’d head to the back, doing a stupid jump and trying to contain her gigantic smile. She’d have to ignore Steve’s stupid teasing looks. She’d have to try to not lean over the counter and just force you into her embrace. She’d have to pretend as if your gentle touch on her shoulders wasn’t the most invigorating thing ever.
“Everything about you resonates happiness.
Now I won't settle for less.
Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.”
And there you stood again. That same stupid smile on your face as you placed the used tape on the counter. She had to force her breathing down to seem like a normal person as she tried to do her job professionally.
“Was it a good movie?” She asked as she took the tape, running it through the system before checking it out under your name. “I loved it.” You answered, watching her work, her eyes shooting from the screen to your figure continuously. A nervous chuckle came from Robin as she looked at the title: “I saw this one in the theatres. When it just came out.” “Really?” You gasped. “Yup,” she laughed. “Can’t remember much of it because I was so drugged.”
Her smile immediately dropped as she spoke the words without thinking about them. Her hands stopped working as she turned to face you, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay.” You dismissed, offering her that comforting smile. It didn’t make you uncomfortable. Something about the way she spoke made it impossible to grow uncomfortable with her.
“Like,” she tried to continue. “I was drugged on glee, you know? Because the movie was so good. And Jennifer Parker was like so hot-“ Again, she stopped her sentence, recovering much quicker than she even realised: “I mean, she was so good! A great character, and she wasn’t even in the movie so much, but I would have loved to know more about her. About her character.”
A second nervous chuckle left her as she turned back to the screen stiffly. From where you were standing, you could see her head shake lightly, and you couldn’t suppress the keen grin growing on your face at the adorable sight of it.
“Everything about you, pains my envying.
Your soul can't hate anything.”
“She was cool.” You agreed absentmindedly. “Yeah,” Robin mumbled. “But Marty was attractive too.”
You frowned at her words, a gesture that went unnoticed by her, but not by Steve. Nor were the subtle words following your look.
“Not exactly my type.”
“No?” Robin mused, placing the tape in an empty basket before turning back to you. Her face seemed to light up slightly, and that familiar giddy feeling made it’s way back into the pit of your stomach. “I mean, I get it. He isn’t really mine either.” She rambled, scrambling for the receipt before handing it to you. “Uhm, here you go.”
You couldn’t stand the silence that followed. You liked hearing her talk. And you had no places to be just yet. “Any movies you can recommend?” “Uhm,” The girl hesitated, scanning the store with a quick view. Steve noticed his friend freezing. She wasn’t looking at anything - she was trying to come up with a good answer. But he wasn’t going to let this whole debacle go as quickly as Robin might have.
“Everything about you is so easy to love.
They're watching you from above.”
“Looking for a movie with people who are good on the eye? I know a bunch of handsome fellows.” He began to hint, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that made you internally cringe at the secondhand embarrassment. You pushed the feeling down, offering him a polite smile.
You knew Steve. You actually came for Robin every so often, but she’d be busy at times and Steve tried to take over. He was really sweet and kind, but would sometimes make some comments that made you hesitant to reply. It was difficult to judge his character.
“No, thank you,” you dismissed. “Not really my thing.” “Not?” Steve returned with a smile. “What about Phoebe Cates?” Then, he pointed towards a display at the beginning of the store, decorated with Christmas bells. “Got Gremlins right there.” He then leaned over the counter, nodding as if to emphasise his point: “She’s very good on the eye.”
“Ignore him, please.” Robin interrupted, shoving her co-worker to the side. “Return To Oz?” She offered, spotting the little ad on one of the televisions in the far corner of the room. Your face lit up at her suggestion. “Oh, good choice!” “You know, if you like this one, I’ve heard a lot of good things about this new movie in town. Labyrinth, I think it was called.” She ranted. “It has David Bowie.” “Oh, I love Bowie!” “Me too!” She shared enthusiastically. “That’s so funny. I was talking with Steve about it, but he doesn’t want to see it. I think he’s threatened by Bowie.”
“Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.
I want the peace and joy in your mind.
Give me the peace and joy in your mind.”
This was your chance for a first move. Steve was difficult to place, but Robin wasn’t. Be that as it may, you were still cautious. There were plenty of people out there who’d have a lot of colourful words to exchange with you. You really liked Robin, but the last thing you wanted to do was scare her off.
But friends went to the movies all the time, right? You could always justify it in one way or the other.
“We could go together.” You spoke, no longer giving yourself more time to doubt. “Yeah,” Robin laughed, not having really understood you. When you didn’t laugh with her, her eyes widened: “Wait, really?” “Why not?” You shrugged, feigning confidence. “You’ve given me so many great recommendations. And I like our talks.”
“Yes,” she answered quickly. “I mean yes. If you want to, I’d go.” “She could go now.” Steve smirked. “Her shift’s ending.” “Really?” “No,” Robin denied, but then she saw Steve’s face. He rolled his eyes to the back, giving her a subtle nod. “Yes,” she changed. “Yes, my shift is ending soon. Will you give me five minutes?” “Sure, yes, of course!” You nodded eagerly. “I’ll wait right here.” “Great!” She called. “I’ll be right back.”
And with that, she had disappeared to the back of the store.
“Everything about you resonates happiness.
Now I won't settle for less.”
An awkward silence came as Steve stared at you, something unknown glinting in his eyes. “Phoebe Cates, huh?” He voiced. You nodded once: “You’re a big Cates fan?” “Well, she’s really hot.” He deadpanned. Without even thinking, you mumbled a brief ‘that’s true’ under your breath. You didn’t think he’d caught it. But he did.
“So, like, what’s your type?” He continued. “I’m sorry,” you chuckled uncomfortably. “I’m sure you’re really nice-“ “No, not like that,” he interrupted, wildly shaking his head before pointing to himself. “I’m seeing someone right now.” Then, he waltzed back up to the counter. “I’m not asking for me.”
You had no reason to properly answer him. You didn’t even know him that well. You just knew his name and the fact he worked with Robin. But if you were to make a move, now was the perfect moment: “Someone funny.” “Robin’s funny.” He added almost immediately.
“Yes,” you sighed, not oblivious to his innuendos. If he was making them, surely he wouldn’t mind. And something in this moment seemed to spark confidence and trust in you. Thus, you resumed: “But I don’t think a lot of people would be happy with that.”
Steve’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his smile only widening: “So, you’re saying there’s a chance.”
“Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.
I want the peace and joy in your mind.”
That’s it. You shouldn’t have told him. This was an awful idea. How could you have been so stupid?
“Listen, just between the two of us, you’d be cute together. Don’t tell Robin I said that.” And just like that, your train of thoughts ended. He didn’t just say what you thought he said. “She likes banana shakes. If you’re going to the cinema, get her one. She would kill for them.”
Flabbergasted, you blinked rapidly, looking at his relieved figure. “I thought you two were a thing.” You muttered. “Oh, no. No, don’t get me wrong, Robin’s cute but no,” he laughed. “No, I think you’re more her type.” You were at total loss for words when you heard his words, your mouth hanging half open as you tried to process everything. “Get her that shake and talk about something other than movies for once.” Then, he turned around, announcing Robin’s figure leaving from the back: “There she is! You two have fun!”
You awkwardly made your way out of the store, waiting for Robin to follow you. She looked at you with an unreadable expression. Somewhere between worry and sorrow. “What did he tell you?” You decided to not tell her just yet. Well, not the whole truth. “Something about you and banana shakes.” “Oh,” she sighed.
“I love banana shakes.”
“Give me the peace and joy in your mind.”
108 notes · View notes
a-small-tragedy · 9 months
Text
And so... Hi!
Usually my name is Korzh, but you can call me Bernard! My pronouns are he/his. You may know me from the Topher art. But recently I had posts written about me with extremely dubious content and I want to refute these disgusting accusations in my direction. 
Let's get right to the point, I'm NOT a PROSHIPPER AND I'VE NEVER BEEN ONE.
Tumblr media
The first and most terrible is the accusation of pedo content. I've always drawn characters older than they are in the show. I myself am very uncomfortable with sexual undertonesbetween 16-year-olds, so I made them older for my comfort. That being said, the characters both on my nsfw artworks as well as regular ones are OF AGE!
Also, in my defense, I want to show a post that I made the DAY BEFORE.
Context: I drew my favorite characters dynamics, but some people started commenting adult and child pairs, so I made a post.
Tumblr media
Translation: JULY 5TH 9:54 Guys, if there is a child or an animal in your ship dynamics, then I may have questions for you...  Just a warning, I never thought that it would be necessary to introduce a rule for this, in my group!
I tried to be as correct and gentle in my statements as possible, because I couldn't know for sure with which intent these characters were shown in the first place. But later I realized that it was just a misunderstanding, I did not indicate that it was a romantic relationship, people misunderstood me, so I deleted the post :D
But as you can see, I'm generally AGAINST THIS KIND OF STUFF.
Speaking of misunderstandings.....I was also accused of Transphobia based on a deleted post.
Tumblr media
Probably not everyone knows, but I am trans myself! It was very hard to accept, because I was constantly faced with transphobia in my address from people in reality and the Internet.
As for the deleted post, it really looks terrible. The fact is that unfortunately, while writing, I mixed two ideas at once( The first one was that I can't really imagine Topher being in a relationship with a girl. The second one was supposed to tell about the ideas for an art with T Joan and T Topher.
Tumblr media
But in the process of writing, I couldn't formulate the idea correctly, and it turned out like THIS... IT WASN'T UNTIL A FEW MINUTES LATER THAT I REALIZED WHAT I HAD DONE AND I WAS REALLY SORRY, SO I DELETED THE POST SO AS NOT TO UPSET PEOPLE. My trans friend reassured me that it didn't hurt her, but I still felt terrible, so I completely refused to implement that idea.
I'm really sorry about that post, but I didn't think that people would just take it out of context and want to cancel me without understanding the situation. Now I understand that I should have apologized for it right away. But what happened happened.
Also I tried to contact these people just to talk, but the only person who knows their contacts refused to help.
Addition: Some people on Twitter pointed out my nationality, yes, I am Russian and do not support the authorities in my country. WELL, APPARENTLY, NOT EVERYONE KNOWS THAT 2 OUT OF 3 PEOPLE WHO WROTE THE POST WITH THE CANCELLATION ARE RUSSIANS THEMSELVES. AHAHAHAHAHAH Addition 2: Already at the time of writing, the authors of the post compared me to a real terrible person and began to blackmail me by setting conditions. I can't describe how disgusted I am with this whole situation. Shall these words and actions be on their own responsibility, if they have any left. To the rest, thank you for reading and taking the time! Your support has helped me to deal with this. Special thanks to everyone who helped translate this text ahahah, I'm really not very good at this... If you have any questions, you can ask them in the comments or an anonymous ask!  Bye!
169 notes · View notes
whathorselegs · 16 days
Text
A Comparison of No Longer Human's Yozo and Bungou Stray Dogs' Dazai, Part 1
Disclaimer: I'm just a person with a keyboard, a book and a passion for stories, I don't have a degree, I'm just having fun and making connections where I see them. If you don't agree that's fine, but don't come for me.
An exploration of what I think are shared themes, symbols and character roles surrounding Yozo's life in No Longer Human and Dazai's in Bungou Stray Dogs.
Spoilers for BSD main timeline, Fifteen and Dark Era. And Spoilers for No Longer Human
Yozo’s Childhood and Dazai Disconnect From People
For the most part Dazai’s childhood is completely unknown in BSD, so we can’t directly compare Dazai’s and Yozo’s childhood experiences, but Yozo’s childhood could help explain some of Dazai’s mentality when interacting with other people.
In No Longer Human we learn that Yozo has felt emotionally disconnected from the people around him for as long as he can remember, that disconnect formed a constant fear of others, of making them angry with him and of the idea they would hurt him. He copes with this by becoming a ‘clown’, making himself laughable and therefore not suspicious in hopes of being accepted.
‘This was how I happened to invent my clowning. It was the last quest for love I was to direct at human beings.’ - Yozo, No Longer Human ‘I thought, “As long as I can make them laugh, it doesn’t matter how, I’ll be alright. If I succeed in that, the human beings probably won’t mind it too much if I remain outside their lives.’ - Yozo, No Longer Human
In the early manga/anime of Bungou Stray Dogs, though we don’t see Dazai express specifically a fear of other people, we see he uses humour as a way to compensate, telling jokes that often feel out of place because he doesn’t know how else to express himself. He makes light of situations not because he doesn’t care, but it’s how he connects.
Tumblr media
In his attempts to help Atsushi, who has no money to buy his own food, Dazai offers to buy him whatever he wants, but he makes a joke about Atsushi's choice. He's clowning here because he doesn't know how to simply offer earnest help.
Although, unlike Yozo who is terrified of people being angry with him, Dazai has no problem using his humour to agitate and get under people's skin, like the way he is constantly poking fun at Kunikida. I still think this one of Dazai's unfortunate ways of connecting with people as he is mostly shown messing with people close to him and engages less in such behaviours with people he doesn't.
When Dazai doesn’t know how to make light of the situation he goes quiet, often getting a serious look on his face. Like in the warehouse scene when Atsushi is talking about himself negatively, Dazai reacts by not reacting. He clearly wants to say something to him, but doesn't know how. He’s processing, he wants to bridge that gap but he doesn’t know what to do, at least not in the beginning of the manga/anime.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dazai also react similarly to this when Nikolai is mourning Fyodor. Him listening without commenting is how he shows sympathy
We see him slowly evolve from his terrible attempt to comfort Atsushi after dispelling Q’s ability, to him eventually making Sigma believe in both him and the Agency. He's still learning how to connect with people throughout the story.
This comedic act could also hint at why Dazai left his home as a child. In NLH Yozo’s high school is situated away from his hometown and family, he lives with a distant relative whilst attending it. He finds himself more at ease there because strangers more naturally believe his clowning and lies. Unless we are given an actual backstory we may never know why Dazai was so depressed when he met Mori or why he willingly went with him, but being able to essentially reinvent himself and having his lies more easily believed may have fed into it.
It something he also does when he joins the Agency. He doesn't want to acknowledge his past if he can help it.
Family is something Yozo feared and perhaps it was for Dazai too.
‘An actor dreads most the audience in his home town; I imagine the greatest actor in the world would be quite paralyzed in a room where all his family and relatives were gathered to watch him.’ - Yozo, No Longer Human
We do get to witness Dazai’s fear of others later in the manga through his present day relationship with Ango. The betrayal he experienced through Ango has left him emotionally scarred to the point he holds back when forming new friendships, keeping everyone at far more of a distance than he did Ango or Oda. It’s a betrayal he can neither come to terms with or walk away from. He still takes his pain out on Ango, but then creates scenarios where he’s dependent on him too. He simultaneously fears losing Ango for good and being open enough to get hurt by him again (and others as well).
Tumblr media
Dazai is relying on his connection with Ango for this plan. It's shown in BSD that Fukuzawa has connections that could have helped them here, but Dazai wanted to go to Ango, he wanted to create a scenario where they needed each other.
Kyouka’s entrance exam and Dazai’s connection to the outside world in Meursault are both plans that wouldn’t have worked without Ango. He’s still someone Dazai feels strongly about and respects.
Though, a respected man isn’t something to be admired or envied in Yozo’s eyes. They are a clever liar who has succeeded in tricking their audience and gaining their trust. Someone to be exposed and weary of becoming. Someone who will betray you, just like Ango did to Dazai. The plans Dazai involves Ango in usually require him to lie to/manipulate/or betray his current organization. Dazai still sees him as inherently deceitful, he just uses it to his advantage now.
‘My definition of a “respected” man was one who had succeeded almost completely in hoodwinking people, but who was finally seen through by some omniscient, omnipotent person who ruined him and made him suffer a shame worse than death.’ - Yozo, No Longer Human ‘What would be the wrath and vengeance of those who realised how they had been tricked!’ - Yozo, No Longer Human.
Tumblr media
It is heavily implied Dazai is the reason Ango's air bag didn't work. Just one part of his vengeance upon the respected man who betrayed him.
This definition of a respected man might also be why Dazai slacks off so much around work. Yozo, whilst being the smartest student in his class, fears that reputation and uses his clownery to maintain popularity amongst his peers and his unassuming appearance. He doesn’t want to stand out as a respected individual and neither does Dazai. He actively seems to discourage Atsushi from thinking that way about him by fooling around, even though it doesn’t work because Atsushi still greatly admires him.
The other pivotal experience that relates to Dazai from Yozo’s childhood is his friend, Takeichi. 
Takeichi is an interesting character because he starts out as someone Yozo is afraid of. He’s a student who sees through Yozo’s class clown act and calls him out on it. Yozo then proceeds to essentially stalk Takeichi out of fear of being exposed as a fraud, only to end up inviting Takeichi to his home and spending time together. They become friends, he’s the only person Yozo actually opens up to, in a meaningful way. Takeichi symbolises a genuine human connection for Yozo, a way into the regular world, but as they grow older they are separated and Yozo grows distant from people again.
Takeichi for me is both Oda and Ango. 
Oda and Ango are Dazai’s first friends. Dazai forming his connection with them his first step into the light, into connecting with other people rather than sitting on the outside. As Children Takeichi and Yozo discover their love of impressionist art. Yozo starts to paint self-portraits inspired by Van Gogh, they are a glimpse of his innermost self, which he shows to solely Takeichi. This mirrors how Oda and Ango create that safe space for Dazai to be himself in the Lupin Bar. That bar is their canvas where they are free to paint their souls without fear. They don’t judge and shun Dazai the way the rest of the world seems to have.
‘The pictures I drew were so heart-rending as to stupefy even myself. Here was the true self I had so desperately hidden. I had smiled cheerfully; I had made others laugh; but this was the harrowing reality.’ - Yozo, No Longer Human ‘Naturally I did not show my pictures to anyone except Takeichi. I disliked the thought that I might suddenly be subjected to [other people’s] suspicious vigilance … On the other hand I was equally afraid that they might not recognise my true self when they saw it’ - Yozo, No Longer Human ‘To Takeichi (and to him alone) I could display my easily wounded sensibilities, and I did not hesitate to show him my self-portraits.’ - Yozo, No Longer Human
In fact when Dazai leans too hard into his clowning act Ango is the one trying to discourage him from it. There's a genuine care for Dazai's mental health and safety shown in these moments.
Though just like Yozo and Takeichi in NLH, Dazai, Oda and Ango are separated. For Dazai it doesn’t symbolise a descent back into the darkness, but perhaps a journey cut short. Instead of the three of them coming into the light at their own pace, Dazai is thrust ahead, ill prepared and alone. Oda is dead and he can’t rely on Ango because of his betrayal. Dazai is stuck in a liminal space with no one to guide him on how to become 'more human'.
Before Takeichi and Yozo are separated, Takeichi makes what Yozo refers to as prophecies about Yozo’s life. That he’ll be popular with girls and a great artist. To some extent both of these end up true, Yozo has many girlfriends and he does become a paid cartoonist, but his relationships are chaotic and unhealthy, and his job is unreliable and he hates it. The prophecies are also curses. This to me, is like Oda’s last request of Dazai, he tells Dazai to be a good man and to help people. He does this in an attempt to save Dazai from his own spiraling and give his life some future meaning. Dazai chooses to live by these words, we constantly see him struggle to do so, Oda’s words haunt him as much as they guide him. His promise and his curse.
And that's it for Part 1! If you read all this way then thank you very much for your time, I hope you enjoyed it! I don't know when Part 2 will be out because I'm making notes as I re-read through NLH, but hopefully it won't be too long!
40 notes · View notes
TBB Incorrect Quotes, Part 16
Hunter: Please, Crosshair, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. Crosshair: I’m sorry Hunter Hunter: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. Crosshair: It has to be done. Hunter: Crosshair: Hunter: Crosshair: *Places +4* Uno.
Wrecker, dashing into the room: WHY AREN’T THE DISHES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER?! Echo: …What does that even mean?!
Hunter, talking to Tech: They're trying to lure me into a false sense of security! Well, joke’s on them! I’ve never been secure in my life! And I’m not about to start now!
Crosshair: They called me the B-word. Echo: Motherfucker doesn’t start with ‘b’.
Echo: So my therapist was talking to me and she said that I really just need to break down my walls and let people in. Echo: So I’ve decided to break the fourth wall. Echo: *looks at camera* Hi there. I use humor as a coping mechanism.
Crosshair: Quick! You must come with me! You're in great danger! Tech: Why?! Crosshair: Because I’ll kill you if you don’t.
Wrecker: ‘Technically legal’, the two best words in the the English language, right before ‘cowboy spectacular.'
Crosshair: Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Hunter: Yeah? Crosshair: Bitch.
*Echo, Wrecker, and Tech are playing poker. Tech is winning by a long shot.* Echo: Aw, come on. Wrecker: It’s not fair! He doesn’t even know what we’re playing! Tech: Go Fish?
Tech: Do you want this handful of moss? Crosshair: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss? Tech: Damn, you could’ve just said no.
Crosshair: You say “Please” and “Thank you” in front of Omega all the time, and she never repeats it. Crosshair: But you call Hunter “Ass-faced motherfucker” ONE TIME…
Crosshair: All I did was kill people, is that really such a crime? Hunter:  Hunter: Yes?!
Wrecker: Respect my trans homies or I’m gonna identify as a fucking problem.
Echo: Are you free tomorrow? Crosshair: No, I’m fucking expensive every day.
Omega: How do you type so fast? Echo: Anxiety.
Wrecker: Wanna hear some dark humor. Echo: Yeah, I love dark humor. Wrecker: Alright. Wrecker: *Turns off the lights* Wrecker: Knock knock. Echo: Turn the damn lights back on.
Crosshair: Sometimes I like to call people by the wrong name to show them I don’t care about them. Hunter: That’s brilliant. Crosshair: Thank you, Tech.
Hunter: You're ignoring all your problems. Echo: I know. Hunter: You also know it's an unhealthy coping mechanism? Echo: I'm ignoring that fact as well. Hunter:
Wrecker, playing a video game: How do I play? *Wrecker has drawn first blood!* *Wrecker is on a killing spree!* *Wrecker is on a rampage!* *Wrecker is unstoppable!* *Wrecker is dominating!* *Wrecker is godlike!* Wrecker: Don’t worry guys, I figured it out.
Crosshair: *Hugs Tech from behind* Crosshair: *Tucks Tech's hair behind his ear* Crosshair, whispering: Eat all the frosted animal crackers again and they'll never find your body.
Omega: Did you know spiders can hold 8 guns at once? Wrecker: How does it WALK?? Omega: Omega: Did you know spiders can hold 7 guns at once?
Echo: Tech? You just drove through a stop sign without stopping. Tech: I'll stop twice on the way back.
Crosshair: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.
Crosshair: CHARACTER. FLAWS. ARE. FUCKING. IMPORTANT. Wrecker: Me when someone tells me to stop eating mayo packets like they’re gogurt tubes.
Hunter: One time I went to hand Wrecko a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!” at the same time, so instead I blurted out “Careful! It’s soup”.
Hunter: And what did we learn, Crosshair? Crosshair: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.
Crosshair, proudly: I slept. Tech: Is that so much of a rare thing that you have to say it?
Tech: Things will get better! Tech: Tech: Okay, maybe they won’t. Tech: But they will be terrible in new and interesting ways!
Echo: I am not an early bird or a night owl. I am some form of permanently exhausted pigeon.
Crosshair: Would I rather be feared or loved? Easy. Both. I want people to fear how much they love me.
Omega, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Hunter: Other side, Omega...
Hunter: Can you be serious for five minutes? Wrecker: My record is four, but I think I can do it.
Echo: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck.
Omega: Your smile looks forced. Crosshair: That’s because it is.
Echo: So what’s for dinner? Wrecker: I can’t tell you, it’s a soup-prise! Echo: … Echo: Is it soup? Wrecker: I soup-pose it could be! *winks* Echo: Please, enough with the soup puns! Wrecker: Wow, you’re soup-per mean. Echo: STOP! *one hour later* Echo: It’s fucking tacos?!?!?!
Crosshair, to Hunter: Well, one of us has to be wrong and it’s not going to be me.
Omega, running: Slow down, Tech, I can’t ketchup! Tech, not slowing down: You’ll just have to use all the strength you can mustard.
Echo: Get in the Halloween spirit and make a ghost! Hunter: That’s called murder and I heard somewhere that it was illegal.
Tech: I’m going to get so much done today. Hunter: I’ll hold you to that. *8 hours later* Hunter: So how much did you get done? Tech: One thing. Hunter: Well, that’s one more than usual.
Crosshair: If Wrecker says he'll be ready in five minutes, he will be. Crosshair: No need to remind him every fifteen minutes about it.
Tech: If there are no questions, we’ll move on to the next chapter. Crosshair: I have a question. Tech: Certainly, Crosshair. What is it? Crosshair: What’s the point of human existence? Tech: I meant any questions about the subject at hand. Crosshair: Oh. Crosshair: Frankly, I’d like to have the issue resolved before I expend any more energy on this.
Omega: What’s the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite? Tech: “Stalagmite” has an “m” in it.
Wrecker: I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate, or malewife our way out of it this time. Crosshair: *cracks knuckles* Manslaughter it is!
Hunter: Look, I know we don’t always see eye to eye but— Crosshair: Thats because you're too short to do so. Hunter: …Listen here you fucking—
Tech: Wake up! The sun is shining! Crosshair: What do you want me to do, photosynthesis?
Omega: Will Crosshair be okay? Echo: He won’t be when I find him.
90 notes · View notes
mixsethaddams · 1 year
Text
Steve doesn’t hate DnD, he just doesn’t get it.
His brain doesn’t work the way it needs to in order for him to get all the numbers, and classes, and magic, and statistics, and oh god it makes his eyes hurt just thinking about it sometimes. Steve thinks he’d like to just sit and watch, it’s a fun atmosphere, but there’s a strict No Spectators rule for all the Party’s campaigns.
He tries, really he does. Steve knows how much it means to Eddie, and they’re still in the early relationship phase of trying to impress each other. He just wants Eddie to feel like they have something in common other than being mauled by monsters. He wants Eddie to want him around. Whenever it comes to Steve’s turn though, he feels like he’s still two steps behind everyone else.
Of course Eddie noticed. He watches Steve far too closely not to catch the little twitch in his eyebrows every time he doesn’t understand something, and tries to buy time by asking Dustin or Erica’s advice.
“I was thinking,” said Eddie one night as they cleaned up after everyone else had left their latest session. “About your character,”
“What about her?” asked Steve.
“I think you should let me kill her,” said Eddie simply, trying to sound casual.
Steve was stunned. He froze, halfway through folding a map. His stomach dropped.
“You don’t want me to play anymore?” He was crushed and it was apparent in his voice.
Eddie continued to tidy, pretending his heart hadn’t cracked in half at the sound of Steve’s voice.
“Not by yourself anyway,” said Eddie, leaning down on the table and side eyeing Steve to see if his plan was working. “I have too many notes for this campaign, I can’t keep up anymore-”
He could.
“-and it’s started to get me confused during some of the battles-“
It wasn’t.
“-so I was thinking maybe I need a little extra help,”
He didn’t.
But Steve didn’t know that.
“And killing me off helps that?” asked Steve. He had started to subconsciously wring his hands so Eddie held his arm up to gesture Steve into a sideways half-hug.
“Well, yeah,” said Eddie. Steve was under his arm now and his sad little face was killing him but he nearly had his point made. “Because you can’t help me with campaign notes or keep me on the right page during a game if you’re playing,”
Steve’s eyebrows furrowed wile he figured out what Eddie was saying.
“You don’t need someone for that,” said Steve, still confused. “You tell people all the time I’m The Best DM Ever I Could Run Six Campaigns At Once All Alone I Don’t-“
“Steve.” said Eddie flatly, putting his hand over Steve’s mouth. “I’m asking for help, and I’m asking you because I know you won’t make fun of me for it,”
He took his hand away and raised his eyebrows. Steve nodded.
“So, like, I’d, what? Help you write things in your notebook?” he asked. “Plans and stuff?”
“Yep!” said Eddie, squeezing Steve’s shoulders. “And sit with me during games to make sure I’m not missing anything. You’re better at the details than I am, Stevie, I get all caught up in the dramatics,”
Eddie waved his free arm in a wide flourish to illustrate his point.
“We’ll be the perfect team,” he finished.
Steve’s stomach lifted into something far lighter. He liked the sound of being teamed up with Eddie for games. Getting to watch, be a part of it all, without having to actually play? This sounded like way more fun.
“I… Yeah, that sounds like a plan, I can do that,” said Steve with a smile.
“Gotta warn you though!” said Eddie, waving a finger in his face. “It’s intense, you’re gonna be spending a lot more time with me, I write a lot of notes,”
Steve laughed and rolled his eyes.
“Oh how ever will I ever cope?”
It was years later that Steve connected the dots on what Eddie had done for him. They were at a wedding reception and Eddie was talking with Dustin, recalling details of that first campaign with crystal clear accuracy. For the briefest moment he felt silly, slightly ashamed that he’d been so obviously terrible and uncomfortable that Eddie needed to step in. But then he remembered all the late nights they’d spent huddled up close to plan a session, or the phonecalls laughing about how to trick the Party into a trap, or the times they hide behind a book during a game to stage-whisper about a player’s choices, and it all melted away. That time spent together just having fun was what gave their relationship such a rock solid foundation.
He only ever managed to grasp the barest bones of the game even with Eddie’s help, but he wouldn’t have changed any of it for the world. Not when they made such a perfect team, anyway.
382 notes · View notes
there-goes-thefighter · 8 months
Text
Who Really Won? Part Seven: Take Your Time
Tumblr media
This is my fic. Please do not repost this (reblogs are good). Do not copy my writing. Do not steal my writing. All rights are reserved for my writing and my original character(s).
Series Masterlist
NFL Masterlist
(warnings: swearing)
(pairing: travis kelce x f!reader; mention of toxic!tom brady x f!reader)
(word count: 1k)
(series taglist: @kelcemenow @vir-tual @kmc1989 @kristencochefski1125 @calirindo @kkrenae @killatravtramp)
“I don’t know what to do, man.”
Travis leaned on his quarterback’s kitchen counter. He was desperate for help, so he’d gone over to Patrick Mahomes’ house for a bit of advice on how to tell (y/n) how he feels.
“Alright, let’s take this back. When did this start?” Patrick asked, wanting some background on how this all began for the tight end. He was making coffee, figuring he was going to need some now that he was awake. 
“At the end of the Super Bowl.”
“No, when did you realize all this?”
“I don’t know, recently?”
Patrick recapped, “So you’ve liked her since the game, but it took you a little over a month to realize it.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, that’s not terrible. We can work with that,” Patrick said as he poured out two cups of coffee. He slid a full mug over to Travis. 
“What do you mean?”
“Wait, you’re sure you love her?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?”
“Why do you love her?”
Travis thought for a second. He knew all the reasons why, but he didn’t want to seem like he was pouring his heart out too much.
Patrick repeated his question, “Why do you love her?”
“Because she’s the strongest woman I know. I’ve watched that woman put herself back together from fuckin’ ashes, Pat. She drove all the way up here from Tampa because she didn’t know where else to go. When I found her at the stadium that night, I couldn’t let her go. I took care of her because I knew she needed somebody. I stood up to her shitty ex-boyfriend for her, and I don’t care if the whole league hates me for it. She’s worth facing that storm. I look at her, and…I’m home.”
Patrick wiped his eyes as he tried not to cry. Brittany gave herself away when she sniffled. She’d been standing in the doorway, listening to Travis pour his heart out as he talked about (y/n).
“That’s really beautiful. You really need to tell her,” she advised.
“I know, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to explain to her that I can’t imagine my life without her.”
Brittany sighed, “You have two options: either tell her and run the risk of screwing things up or don’t tell her and let it screw you up instead.”
Patrick looked at his wife, “You got that from TikTok.”
“Yes, I did. But it’s still true.”
Travis cut in, “So what do I do?”
Patrick turned to him, “That’s up to you. If you want me to tell you exactly what to do, I’m not going to. This is your situation. The best I can do is cheer you on no matter what.”
Travis had left Patrick’s house still unsure of himself. He knew what he needed to say, but he still didn’t know how to say it. On his way home, he saw someone selling flowers on the corner. He stopped to buy a bouquet. As he looked through the flowers, he saw a bunch that caught his eye. It was a bouquet of daisies varying in color. The light pink ones blended well with the maroon and bright yellow ones. 
“Ah, the gerbera daisies. They’re a hit with the ladies,” the old man selling them smiled.
“I hope so. I’m just trying to tell her how I feel.”
The old man’s face changed. He grabbed Travis’ arm and looked him in the eye. He pointed at him as he said, “Don’t you let her go, son. If you know she’s the one, you tell her. Don’t waste time.”
Travis looked back at the old man and then down to the flowers in his hand, “I will.”
The old man let go of Travis and patted his arm, “Take the flowers, son. I hope she says yes.”
Travis smiled, “I hope so, too.”
His heart beat a little faster as he drove home. When he arrived, he found (y/n) sitting at the counter in the kitchen. 
“Ooooh who are those for?” (y/n) asked, referring to the flowers.
“For you,” he said as he handed her the bouquet. 
Her face lit up, “For me? Thank you, Trav.” 
She set the flowers down for a moment to hug him. 
“You’re very welcome.”
“These are so beautiful,” she complimented, admiring the flowers again. 
He was confused when she pulled a vase from one of the cupboards. 
“I have a vase?”
“Oh, I bought it to put fake flowers in. But this is way better,” she replied, filling the vase with water and adding the flower food. She cut the ends of the stems off before arranging the flowers in the vase.
That’s when Travis knew he was done for. He’d fallen in love.
Travis could’ve sworn it was a stroke of luck when she said yes to going out for dinner. And thank God she loved the flowers. He hadn’t made it sound like a date as he didn’t want to scare her off. He was nervous the whole night. He was on edge, but he was trying to play it off like he wasn’t. His leg was shaking under the table and he was really trying to focus. 
(y/n) could tell there was something bothering him, but didn’t want to put him on the spot. The dinner was great and the conversation flowed really well. She almost hoped it was a date. Wait a minute.
After they got home, they went to their separate rooms. (y/n) got in the shower and Travis laid on his bed, thinking of the words the wise old man selling the flowers had told him.
“Don’t you let her go, son. If you know she’s the one, you tell her. Don’t waste time.”
He got up and headed toward her room. He knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. As soon as she opened it, he spoke. 
“I need to tell you something.”
105 notes · View notes