#she can do whatever the fuck she wants cleaning wise when I’m out
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I apologize for the long ask and if this question is a bit juvenile but objectively, how can one “gain” pretty privilege/gauge how they are viewed? I’ve done well in career pursuits for how early on I am ( I graduated in 2020) but started noticing that the invites to events/opportunities where one can really establish themselves not only professionally but socially, I was getting passed over by some higher up colleagues. In speaking to a female mentor who is related to my field and the same background as me (Black), she alluded that while my race may play a small factor in it, it’s more so my appearance that may be holding me back as the personality and poise is there. Some coworkers of mine who are brilliant and POC have similar credentials and positions as I and while we are all wonderful and hard working, they (who I feel are more beautiful and put together looks-wise) have discussed privately to me they have noticed a difference in treatment between us. While it’s not right, I am adult enough to know not to let things that can be fixed hinder the life I want. Your page is a wealth of information and I appreciate how encouraging you are!!
well. I’m going to be very blunt.
it’s all fun and games to say “oh fuck the beauty standards they’re terrible and they shouldn’t exist” yes, true, unfortunately they do exist and they play a bigger role than we imagine it to be.
the first thing you have to get right is your mindset.
you need to be strong enough to admit that you need changes in X, Y, Z area but not in A, B, C area. You also need to be a little loyal towards your racial identity (for the better or worse) because that’s what is going to make you stand out.
if you have a sensitive, overly emotional mindset and you get hurt very easily / become obsessive by nature, I highly recommend you to STOP reading now.
Understand what is considered pretty in your country and area. Even in one country, beauty standards can different from the north and south. Don’t exactly try to become attractive for the opposite sex but understand what they find attractive because these guys are your primary responders to your pretty privilege. Women will be kind on the surface and so it can be difficult to get constructive criticism from them.
Understand what YOU consider pretty. Who are the women who you think are crazy beautiful? What do they look like, dress like, how’s their hair and their make up, can you replicate any of it? Rule of thumb when it comes to hair and beauty - look at influencers / celebs who are of your racial background for the best fit.
there are always a few things that are universally considered “respectfully attractive” not “you wanna fuck me attractive”- semi modesty/ modesty outfits (my father always told me that when in doubt, go for a more conservative look), hygiene, well kept hair, clean nails and toe nails, soft skin, natural make up, natural hair colour, perfume, clothes that fit, skin care, a workout routine.
pretty privilege is not just the art of looking pretty. It’s also bringing in something of value on the table. Value = money / connections / knowledge/ humour / being the fun social person / whatever value the target group considers to be the most important for you to be relevant to them. Work on your soft skills. It’s better to look half baked but have solid soft skills than to look amazing and not know how to converse.
things that one normally notices when meeting someone new:
Skin - is it clear, is the make up overdone?
hair - is it messy or does it suit your face structure?
how you smell
teeth, when you talk - and dental hygiene
shoes - are they filthy?
shirt/ top - does it fit you well (always check that the seams on your shoulder and your actual shoulder line up), the colour of your clothes
body type, posture, how you carry yourself
start with incremental changes. Make a list of things you think you could improve on (this is not a list of “ugly” things, it’s an “improvement/ potential” list). Sort them according to ease of improvement (is this going to be expensive and difficult or affordable and easy?) and time (can this be done overnight or will it take some time).
Use point 1 and 2 only as launching pads. You do not have to look like Beyoncé, you’re simply understanding what her MUA and hair stylist does for her that could work for you. After a point, you have to ensure that YOUR identify sticks out and is still there, you’re not born to imitate someone else and also, it’s very obvious when someone is trying to be someone they’re not.
again. I repeat. If you’re going to get obsessive and make yourself sick over this it’s NOT WORTH IT. If you’re not mentally capable of making these changes, do not go through it.
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☆Number - Jack Mercer x Reader
☆ idc Jack Mercer doesn’t have enough fanfics so I’m here to serve justice.
☆Would recommend listening to ‘You Can Be The Boss’ by Lana Del Rey
Content: Mentions of drugs alcohol, suggestive language, mentions of gang violence
~و✧…彡☆ - btw pretend Jack survived x
彡☆ 2005 19:36PM
‘This job is honestly ass’ I said to my most common customer, and closest friend, Sofi. It was true, I hated my job, it was a fucking shithole, I mean it was a dingy bar in the rough parts of Detroit, a little girl’s dream clearly.
‘Aye (name) don’t be so silly, it pays the bills, and plus, you get a lot of guys working here.’ She wasn’t wrong, I mean it did pay the bills after all but the amount of guys that I didn’t want? Uncountable.
‘I know Sof’, but they’re all ugly most of the time, plus, when they’re that pissed out of their minds, ‘no’ doesn’t compute easy, they got determination I’ll say that. Gets me a few tips I suppose.’ I laughed, cleaning the nearby table where Sofi sat. ‘Speaking of guys, can’t believe you’re seeing that Angel Mercer again!’ I asked, sitting next to her and nudging her shoulder.
‘I don’t like the way you said ‘Again’ but at least I have a man. Though, how old are you now?’ She asked, smiling at the ground when she answered about Angel, absolutely smitten, is the only words I could describe her.
‘Twentyyy... one?’ I questioned myself as I pulled out my ID, just double checking I was actually 21.
‘You really think that checking your ID is going to help? How many fake IDs did you have when you were 17 to get cigarettes?’ Me and Sofi go back to when I was 17 and freshly moved to America, she lived in the apartment next to me and we’d been best friends since she welcomed me into the new apartment.
‘Shut up girl, this is a real one, and I am right I’m 21.’ I laughed, smacking my ID on the table.
‘Okay okay, anywho, Angel has a brother, Jack who’s the same age as you, and he got shot recently, he’s getting out of hospital today and a little birdie told me him and his brothers are coming here in an hour or so to celebrate.’ She suggested, walking over to the bar.
‘Oh yeah? Well from what you’ve told me the birdie is actually quite big.’ I smirk as I pour myself a pint from the tap, Sofi hit me on my arm, telling me to shut up in Spanish. I love Sofi but she loves to overshare about her sex life, but it’s fun to mess with her about it.
…彡☆ 19:54PM
A few moments passed, as me and Sofi just talked about random things, about how crazy it was that Victor Sweet had finally been killed, what Sofi wanted to do career wise etc. When all of a sudden, a bunch of loud men burst through the door, as I recognise a very familiar face.
‘Jerry!’
‘(Name)! What’s goin’ on baby?’ He said as he approached the bar, politely shaking my hand, Jerry was like a big brother to me, always nice and fair.
‘Nothin’ much, your wife know you here? I can call her right now if she don’t.’
‘Nah she knows, I’m truthful to my lady, and seeing as I’m so truthful, can we get a few rounds free?’
I laughed and nodded saying as long as I got tipped I’d give them whatever.
‘Bullshit Jerry, we all keep secrets here.’ A bloke in leather, with a goatee sort of thing going on says, laughing and hitting his back.
‘Man shut the fuck up before I woop yo’ white ass. (Name), these are my brothers Bobby, Jack and Angel, I guess you’re already acquainted with Angel here.’
‘Yeah man, it’s hard not to know who Angel is when all I hear in my apartment is those two getting it on.’ I say, lighting a cigarette whilst directioning my hand to Sofi and Angel.
Then I looked at Jack, and all I thought was ‘Damn he’s fine’.
‘So you lovely ladies want tables or are you gonna keep me company and sit at the bar?’
‘I think the guys are alright with sitting at the bar, right guys?’ Jerry said, asking his brothers, they all nodded and agreed as they took seats at the bar.
‘Can I get a beer?’ The one who I assumed was Bobby, asked.
‘Can you be specific, Guiness? Heineken? A pint? Half-pint? And I don’t know maybe a please?’ I chuckled, directioning to the amount of beers there were to choose from
‘She had you on that one Bobby, she’s very passionate about her alcohol.’ Angel said.
‘And why’s that, you an alcoholic or somethin?’
‘No, I don’t know if you can tell from the accent but it’s just from being English really.’ I could see Jack’s eyebrows raise slightly, he was really cute.
‘Ah, I don’t know man just give me a bottle of Guiness.’
‘Please?’
‘Please.’
…彡☆ 20:20PM
About half an hour passed before I finally talked to Jack, I slid down the bar, making my way to where he sat, leaving the rest of the brothers and Sofi to do whatever.
‘You’re Jack I take it?’
‘Yeah and you’re.. (name)?’
‘Indeed it is, what drink you want Jackie?’
‘I don’t mind really, can I get a cigarette? The hospital wouldn’t let me bring ‘em in.’ He laughed, god damn his laugh. I’ve known this boy for 45 minutes and I’m whipped
‘Yeah sure and I’m sorry to hear that you got shot by the way, you ‘re lucky you survived love.’ I could see him the try to hide the fact me calling him love got a reaction out of him, it’s not particularly uncommon for me to call customers love, but it’s usually older customers, just out of respect, though for him? I just said it to get a reaction.
‘Thanks, how long you been working at the bar?’
‘Not long really, few months? I’ve only been in America for a couple of years, I think four years.’ Passing him a cigarette and a lighter whilst taking a puff of my own.
‘Ah cool, how come you moved?’
‘I don’t know really, I suppose to just be with my mum, seeing as she wanted to just get away.’
‘Your parents split?’
‘Yeah but it was probably the best choice they collectively made.’ I laughed, pouring him a drink.
‘Fair enough, you do anything else other than be the only good-looking bar tender in Detroit?’ Um sir?
‘Don’t flatter me Jackie, but yeah actually, I play the bass here and there.’
…彡☆ Jack POV …彡☆
‘Don’t flatter me Jackie...’ Man, I haven’t even known her that long and I can’t help but want to take her out.
‘Ah bass? That’s cool man, I play the guitar, before I moved back to Detroit I was actually in a band, believe it or not.’ Flicking my cigarette ash in the nearby ashtray, when I had an idea. I asked her for a pen and she handed me the one in her shirt pocket.
‘I certainly believe it, but anywho I can’t concentrate on your pretty face all night, I’ll serve some other customers and I’ll be back soon.’ She said winking at me, I felt my face go so warm, Sofi definitely knew I was going red, and to my misfortune, so did Bobby.
‘Woah Jackie, did the bullet knock the fairy out of you or what?!’
‘Shut up man, you probably haven’t been flirted with in the last 10 years.’
‘Sure fairy whatever you say.’
…彡☆ 22:17PM your pov
‘Okay boys we’re gonna leave now, because for some reason I got designated driver duty so come on! You too Sofi vámanos!’ Jerry yelled, dragging Sofi and Angel by the collars of their shirts, I laughed to myself as all of the brothers continued to leave in a drunken mess, the night was full of brotherly love, teasing and intense flirting between me and Jack, as he had more drinks he got more bold with how he spoke.
I was absolutely whipped, and as Jack left, he gave me a cigarette and said,
‘Don’t light it right away.’ with a drunken but genuine smile, I responded, ‘Don’t worry Jackie I won’t, see you soon.’ and I pecked him on the cheek as I left for the room where I kept my coat to close up my shift, taking the cigarette with me.
Later in the night I was certain there was something I had forgotten to do, and then it hit me, I probably was meant to look at the cigarette or something, and then I thought, ‘Where’s the cigarette?’, and I trudged to my sofa and grabbed my coat, luckily the cig was still in my pocket.
I twizzled it in my fingers, when I saw numbers written on one side, and a note saying, ‘Call me - Jackie’ with a heart next to it on the other, that smooth motherfucker. I unravelled the cigarette, putting the nicotine in a spare pouch and attached the note to my fridge with a magnet with the intentions to call him in the morning.
…彡☆ The End!
Please let me know if you liked this, if so I might write a part 2 to it or just continue to write Jack mercer fics seeing as there just aren’t enough! Love ya x
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Year in Fic | 2023
How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount?
This was a very, very depressing year for me fic-wise. I didn't think it was possible, but not only did I write less that I did last year, but I wrote SIGNIFICANTLY less than I did in 2022.
In 2023 I wrote 11 fics, for a total of 39,450 words. Which is uh, almost half what I did in 2022. And 2022 was a slow year for me. But! I will give myself a bit of grace considering I spent most of the year being neurotic about wedding planning.
Fic Roundup!
so damn sloppy | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 4,557 words | Steve smiles, leaning forward just a little bit, and is rewarded by the sight of Eddie swaying towards him as if hypnotized. “We gonna stop pretending that I’m here just for a movie?”
into the unknown | LoZ | Zelda/Ganondorf/Link | 8,017 words | “What do you think, princess?” Ganondorf asks, cocking his head. “Would having your young knight here with us make the marriage bed more palatable?”
just a little bit closer, baby | Stranger Things | Chrissy/Eddie/Steve | 2,734 words | “He’s sure, Chrissy,” Steve says, voice warm.
Ghost Story | Stranger Things | Eddie/Steve | 2,559 words | Eddie wakes to darkness.
mommy don’t know daddy’s getting hot | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 1,611 words | “Just— Christ, Steve. Fuck me, already. Fill me up, put a baby in me or whatever weird hetero bullshit your brain has a boner for, just do it.”
the icarus to your certainty | Marvel | Loki/Thor | 1,687 words | “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Loki asks softly, his mouth twisted into a strange, sad little smile.
build your altar here | Star Wars | Reylo | 5,486 words | When Leia had first offered up Ben’s condo as a place for Rey to stay while she got back on her feet, she’d foolishly assumed that it was some kind of subletting situation.
for years or for hours | Loki | Loki/Mobius | 1,677 words | “What the shit are you doing?” Mobius hisses, and Loki— Loki is tired.
touch-a, touch-a, touch-a, touch me | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 2220 words | “God,” Steve murmurs into Eddie’s mouth. “You look— I cannot deal with how you look right now.”
these, our bodies, possessed by light | Shades of Magic | Holland/Kell/Lila, Athos/Holland | 2,134 words | Holland tells her simply. “I want to go home.”
this house says your name like an elegy | The Untamed | Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang | 6768 words | “Good night, ghost,” he says. “We can play tomorrow.”
Best story I wrote this year:
In my opinion? into the unknown was the only fic that I was TRULY proud of this year. Which isn't to say that the others were awful, but into the unknown was my passion project of the year. I saw a thing on twitter that made my brain go ping, and I sat down and said, yknow what, I'm going to write political marriage Ganondorf/Zelda. And then, I went, yknow what would be great? If we added Link, poly, and a great heaping pile of yearning. And it was! Great that is! It was fun to write and I'm really glad that I put it out there.
What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.
Honestly, into the unknown IS probably my favorite - BUT! A very close second is for years or for hours, which I wrote after watching the Loki finale a totally chill amount of times. I couldn't get over the idea of Loki and those timeloops, how lonely it must have been. How he could technically have everything that he wanted and then wipe the slate clean again hours later. I was also planning on writing another Loki fic, one where Sylvie and Mobius end up hooking up and living? traveling? together AFTER, but it just hasn't happened yet. Two people fucking because they're yearning for the same third is just catnip to me.
Okay, NOW your most popular story.
This is actually interesting because my stats are pretty wildly different for kudos vs hits. Normally they're at least in the same ballpark. BUT! for years or for hours was definitely my top fic as far as kudos go by a pretty wide margin, coming in 742 kudos, 217 bookmarks, and 2,397 hits. so damn sloppy (a title that i hated IMMEDIATELY after posting) comes in second when it comes to kudos at 239.
But! If you measure by hits- build your altar here, otherwise known as the excessively smutty reylo fic that i wrote actually comes in first. Which is... weird? But hey, what do I know. Numbers are bonkers.
Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion:
While I'm honestly always a little disappointed by the traffic my SXX Exchange and Yuletide fics get (I get it, they don't show up at the top of the page because they spend weeks unviewable before being revealed), I think my actual answer to this question is Ghost Story. It's one of the shorts that I did for my October challenge this year. 2.5k of Eddie waking up in the Upside Down undead, of him finding Steve's house and hesitating there on the threshold, of Vecna in his head, of him CHOOSING Kas as his own storyline, grasping at straws in the hopes that he'll be able to pull it off. I never go into something expecting kudos because that way lies madness, but I got... 11 kudos. No comments. And I don't know, that's always at least a little disappointing, but especially because I was proud of this one. I liked getting into Eddie's headspace in a horror setting. It was great! It was tragic! And I don't know, it just didn't get love. Such is life.
Most fun story to write:
Okay, so like. I wrote A LOT of smut this year. Almost every single fic that I wrote was either PWP, fix-it, or both. And almost every single one of them came easily (ha). The plot bunnies didn't fight me, they just happened. Which means that a lot of them were fun to write! The one where I got to work in Steve's breeding kink in the most hilarious way cracked me up. BUT! I got to write Steve/Chrissy/Eddie this year! I've been wanting to write it for ages and this year, for the first day of kinktober, I got to write Chrissy pegging Eddie while Steve fucks his face. That was just... an absolute dream.
Story that could have been better?
Maybe these, our bodies, possessed by light ? My Yuletide recipient's requests were of a crueltide variety. And I don't necessarily have an issue with writing that. I wrote it and I liked the end result, but where it comes down to it I'm still pretty uncomfortable writing non-con, even a character that is slowly healing from it. I do actually like how it ended. I think I conveyed what I wanted it to, the style was exactly what I was aiming for, I just haven't been able to shake the feeling that it could have been more. But if I'd made it happier or longer, I think I would have taken away from the point I was trying to make.
Story I wrote to fix things:
Definitely the icarus to your certainty. Some of the others are fix-its in the sense that certain characters are alive, others are fix-it fic not because they changed anything about the canon but because of the sense of catharsis. But the icarus to your certainty was a fic that I've been wanting to write for a while, one where Thor and Loki meet again. I've told this story a couple different ways since End Game, but this one feels more complete because I used TVA Loki. It wasn't just me talking out of my ass about suspected ways that Marvel could fix it, it was about the exisiting character meeting back up with a post-Love and Thunder Thor and going hey, I'm here, I'm not the same brother you watched die, but I'm still a Loki, I still miss you, I know what you lost. I did write it before watching the finale, so there's probably at least one more Thor and Loki reunion fic in me, but we'll see.
Longest completed fic this year:
into the unknown was my longest this year at just over 8k.
Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year:
The fandom that I wrote the MOST of was Stranger Things, because Steddie is still dogging me even now, more than a year later. And it is certainly the fandom that I enjoyed reading the most, but I also really loved playing in the Tears of the Kingdom sandbox.
Favorite character you wrote this year:
I did like writing Ganondorf in into the unknown a lot, but this pleasure has to go to Eddie. He's just so fun.
Most memorable comment(s) this year:
I really loved all the comments that I got on for years and for hours! The comments from my recipients for the SXX exchange and Yuletide were amazing! I got a comment on the Silena and Clarisse fic that I wrote well over a decade ago! I got an adorable comment on the monsterfucking fishsex one earnestly telling me to keep doing what makes me passionate, even if it's... yknow, fishsex.
But honestly, this comment that I got on Rubatosis takes the cake. It just completely blows my mind that even know, almost a decade after I wrote the fic, I am STILL getting comments on it. And not just the comments that other older fic of mine get, but comments that are so heartwrenchingly genuine, thanking me, weeping and happy about it. I actually did a reread of it after I got this comment and while I can see all the places that could be improved on, I'm just still so floored, so PROUD, that it's something that came out of my brain.
Fics you wanted to write but didn’t:
I DO have an entire graveyard of fics in my googledocs that I've started and haven't finished but, in no particular order:
the steddie one where they hook up pre-series when steve is still king steve and eddie is dealing at one of his parties
the steddie hitchhiking one
the steddie coffee shop one that no one asked for
the gloryhole steddie fic from kinktober
ugh the akuroku farmer's market one about being punk and then getting older
the bodyswap geraskier one
the ust filled one-shot of Jericho and Sam Lloyd from the Diviners
the random plot bunny i got after reading hell bent where i wanted to write alex fucking darlington after the howling
the cnc sxx fic
the uh, vaguely necrophiliac sxx one because xue yang is a freak
the *cough* incest ship one where they find out they're related while fucking and neither stops (i may have entertained this as a han/luke/leia one-shot)
the alex/jonas oxenfree one that i wanted to write as a yuletide treat
the anastasia/dimitri one that i wanted to write as a yuletide treat
Oddest story:
god, probably the breeding kink one. mommy don't know daddy's getting hot. it's not even super intense! i just feel like eddie would be absolutely IMPOSSIBLE if he found out that steve had a breeding kink.
Hardest story to do:
I did fret about this house says your name like an elegy a little. I kept getting stuck describing the house and had to force myself past it.
Easiest story to write?
Again, most of the fics came pretty easily this year. build your altar here may have been the easiest? I'd just finished love theoretically by ali hazelwood and while i'd always known they were a reylo i didn't realize that i'd actually read some of their fic! anyway, read a couple reylo fics for nostalgia and then realized that i wanted to write a free use fic. All 5k of it came out in one sitting, it was nuts.
Most mining of your own history in one story:
I don't think any of them? I mean, maybe so damn sloppy if you count the fact that i've actually been in a family video before, but other than that? yeah, nothing.
Themes, or absence thereof:
A lot of smut, tbh.
Where did you publish/archive your stories?
Ao3, as per usual. I didn’t crosspost too much this year.
Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to:
i REALLY want to write the steddie ones that i didn't write this year, specifically the hitchiking and the pre-series one.
Sexiest moment (excerpt):
He fucks Eddie breathless. The corset isn’t helping, the pearls like a collar around his throat. He wants Steve’s hand in his hair, wants to be fucked until it hurts, but Steve is so gentle with him.
There are tears in Eddie’s eyes when he finally surrenders, gasps quietly into the dark and says, “Please, harder.”
Steve doesn’t get a hand into his hair, but he does splay his palm out over the curve of Eddie’s throat, just under the pearls. The hold isn’t a tight one, his fingers loose enough that Eddie could slide right out of the grip if he wanted, but Eddie sobs a little, bucking up, wanting wanting wanting—
Steve fucks him harder.
.
“Would you like to have him first, then?” Ganondorf asks her, a low whisper in her ear, and her legs clench tight around him, making them both groan as his cock jostles between them.
“Please,” she says, and he makes a sound like a laugh, and pulls back, away, moving them so that he’s propped up against her headboard and she’s reclined against his front, her back hot where their skin touches.
Ganondorf makes an amused sound when Link hesitates, and his hands take hold of her hips and — mortifyingly — spread her legs open.
“Do you need me to tell you where it goes?” Ganondorf asks, almost conversationally, and Link narrows his eyes.
It’s not— there was a moment, when she was younger, when she’d thought of this. Of what would happen if she could just take what she wanted. If she could have Link on his back in the hay of the palace stable or if he’d ever bear her down into the fragrant grass of Hyrule Field.
It was a silly dream. A girl’s dream. She’d never imagined this, her husband holding her open as Link pushes into her, but perhaps that was a good thing. She’d been an excitable girl.
He makes a noise when he first pushes into her that she’ll remember forever, even if they never get to do this again — a slight hitch in his breathing, like a hiccup, then a moan so soft it’s almost a whine. They are green, untested, so very new to this. She’s wanted this for so long and so hard that it doesn't even hurt. The rhythm is rocky and awkward when they start, but Ganondorf helps them find it quickly, his hands reaching out to steady Link's hips, coaxing him into a better pace.
It is perfect, even if it wasn’t what she’d dreamed. She gets to bury her face in his neck the way she’d wanted then, gets to hitch her legs up around his hips and clench him tighter, deeper, his fingers threaded with hers.
But it is over too fast, and her eyes are wet when he goes still inside of her. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
Ganondorf gives them a minute, lets her shake, lets Link breathe. She hadn’t expected patience from him, but then, there’s a great many things about this night that she hadn’t expected.
“Okay,” she tells him when Link is collapsed backwards beside them, watching with hazy eyes as Ganondorf turns her to face him. His cock is between them, hard against her belly, and it’s so big that for a moment, she wonders if she’s ready for it. She can feel Link’s spend licking the insides of her thighs and knows that Ganondorf can feel it too.
She looks at Ganondorf, chin held high, and says, “I’m ready.”
He is big.
His cock inside of her is such a tight fit that her breathing goes ragged as he’s fitting it into her. She’s sweating all over and it’s so much that she worries it will break her, that she’ll never be the same again. Link had felt good inside of her, a perfect fit, no pain, just frissons of pleasure up and down her spine as he moved inside of her, but this — this is nearly too much.
“It’s okay, princess,” Ganondorf tells her, petting her back once he’s completely inside. “You did good.”
.
Against all odds, the noise is what wakes her. She would have thought— well, she would have thought that she’d have woken to other things. The gentle rocking of the bed. The weight on her hips. Rey had assumed that if anything were to wake her, it would have been that first slow press inside her — her body yielding slowly to the blunt press of him between her legs.
However it happened, the noise is what wakes her. She surfaces slowly, first latching onto the sound of the rhythmic thumping of the headboard striking the wall over and over again before her brain wakes enough to take note of the rest of it.
She’s warm, that’s the second thing that she notices. Most of the time, Rey wakes with her fingers and toes freezing, and she’ll have to spend the first thirty minutes of her morning huddling for warmth beneath her blankets. This morning though, she’s overly warm, her blood already running hot, her chest and belly slick with sweat.
That’s when the rest of the details come to her. The heavy breathing above her. The warm sticky skin pressed to the bare stretch of her back. The creaking of the bed. Her own shallow breathing, little noises escaping her even as her brain comes fully back online. And of course, the feeling of a cock stretching her wide. She must have been wet, she thinks hazily, still halfway between waking and dreaming. Had she been dreaming? Or had he put his mouth on her before he’d bullied his way inside? They hadn’t really discussed the mechanics beforehand, only their wants and limitations. She’d wanted this, she remembered confessing. This specific thing, mentioned in the late hours of the night, her face flushed.
But he’d done it. She hadn’t thought that he would.
She’s still sluggish, but her body is already lighting up from the touch. Already awake and responsive, even as Rey starts to slowly stretch, her toes curling against the sheets as her palms scrabble for a grip to ground her. Ben rocks into her again, a particularly deep thrust, and a noise punches out of her, shocked and urgent.
She hears a chuckle from above her, and then his mouth is dropping to press against the sharp blade of her shoulder, lips dragging indulgently across her skin.
“Good morning,” he whispers, his own voice gritty with sleep. She whines under him, her fist finally getting a hold on the sheets, and he laughs at her openly, rewarding her with a particularly ruthless grind of his hips, pressing so deep that she rocks forward into the pillows.
He works a hand into her hair, and she’s— god, it’s so much so fast that she’s actually dizzy from it, so when he drags her up to her knees, she’s reeling, wobbly like a newborn animal. Her breath catches in her throat, her stomach tensing as he slides his palm down to cradle the shallow dip of her pelvis.
She doesn’t have to enjoy it, that wasn’t part of the bargain. The deal was anytime, anywhere— within reason, of course. She’d thrilled at the idea of it, imagining him bending her over the back of the couch, over the kitchen counter, imagined crawling into his lap during one of his shitty zoom calls and having him like that, where any one of his sleazy corporate overlords could hear her panting for him if he decided to unmute them.
She hadn’t thought that this would be his first move on the chessboard, that less than 24 hours after shaking on it she would wake to him inside of her, stretching her wide, the very first thing that she’d told him she wanted.
Anything, though. And just because she hadn’t imagined this happening the morning after they discussed it does not mean that she can’t enjoy it.
He fucks her hard and fast after that, as if her coming awake beneath him has made him desperate for it. Her scalp aches under his grip, but the pull is a good one. She’s wet and aching, his cock so good, pressing so deep— she’d forgotten what it was like, what he could be like.
She makes a noise, something quiet and pleased, and he must like it because he moans for her, his grip turning harsher, his thrusts more punishing. She wants to ask him for it, wants to tell him harder, but he hasn’t said that she can talk yet, so she bites her lip and holds on for dear life.
He comes inside her, letting out a long and guttural groan, his hips pressed flush against hers.
She’s trembling and she doesn’t want him to pull out yet, wants to come with him still inside her, but doesn’t—
“Touch yourself,” he tells her, his voice strained, cock still buried to the hilt inside her. She lets out a breathless little sob, already reaching, and it barely takes more than the press of her thumb to her clit before she’s coming, so hard that knees go out from under her. She bites down hard on her pillow to muffle the helpless little keen that makes its way out of her.
Crackiest moment (excerpt):
Eddie is giving him shit when it happens. It’s been a little over a half hour since Eddie turned to him, bored and pouty about it, and asked if Steve wanted to fuck him.
“Obviously,” Steve could pretend that he’d replied, because that was smooth and cool, and not the reality of the weird grunting noise that he’d made in response, as if his brain had briefly forgotten that it was human and not still ape.
Eddie had snorted, but forgiven him this, and Steve had gone to work dutifully, because the reality of getting to fuck Eddie was still new and visceral. But then here they are, well past foreplay, and Eddie is giving him shit, cracking jokes, and Steve is still somehow completely hard. Which is to say, Steve is buried all the way inside of Eddie, balls flush against his sweaty ass, and absolutely breathless with laughter, trying to muffle the sound of it into Eddie’s shoulder when Eddie throws his head back theatrically and moans, “Yes, daddy, yes. Harder, please. Yes, Steve, put a baby in me already.”
And it’s—
He’s joking. Neither of them ever get even close to brushing against their mutual daddy issues. It’s a joke, the same way that the theatrical porn star moans he’s been driving Steve crazy with for the last half hour have been a joke. The same way that his nicknames getting more and more absurd every month is a joke.
But Steve’s breath — it catches. He’d been halfway through another shaky thrust, tears still in his eyes, and then, at Eddie’s words, his movement stutters. He doesn’t quite gasp, but his exhale comes out shaky, a nervous huff of a noise.
Eddie goes still under him. He twists, peering around his own shoulder at Steve, his eyes wide and dark. He blinks and asks, “Really?”
.
“Fuck,” Eddie says again, voice thready. Steve tugs on his hair again, just enough to hear him hiss. “Just— Christ, Steve. Fuck me, already. Fill me up, put a baby in me or whatever weird hetero bullshit your brain has a boner for, just do it.”
Steve’s breath catches, his brain abruptly knocked offline. He doesn’t— later, he’ll try to wrap his brain around why this works for him. Try to figure out whether it’s the daddy issues, the unspoken desire for a kid, or just the idea of filling Eddie up with his come, but in this moment, the only thing that he can think of is those words in Eddie’s mouth, the reality of what he’s about to do.
Steve’s a good, smart boy. Smart about this, at least. He likes to have sex. He’s safe about having sex. Even with Nancy, he’d never—
He fucks Eddie until he’s wailing, working his way up from the slow grind. Short, slow strokes, hard and deep. Harder, a little faster. It’s so much harder to fuck Eddie right like this, but it’s so intimate, tucked so tightly together that he can’t make himself move.
“Please,” Eddie is saying, and Steve isn’t even sure if Eddie’s aware that he’s talking out loud. He’s got his head buried in his arms, his body rocking forward every time Steve fucks into him, and his voice is throaty, his body shaking with every thrust.
“Please Steve,” he gasps, breathless, sweaty. He lets out an uneven moan at Steve’s next thrust, hard and deep, just the way Eddie likes it. “Do it, just do it, pump me full of your come, do it, please.”
Favorite dialogue (excerpt):
“Good morning, Princess,” Ganondorf tells her, still smiling. “That isn’t your usual guard.”
“No,” she tells him, and leaves it at that.
He hums thoughtfully, his eyes going to the guard again, and for a moment, she thinks that he may press the matter, as if it’s any of his business where Link may be, but after another moment, he drops it, leaving it with a polite nod.
They watch the birds in silence for some time.
Ganondorf, as it turns out, has a bag of feed with him, which he offers her when the robins have finished what's on the ground and turn to eye them expectantly.
She dips her hand into the bag, delighting in the cool press of seeds against her knuckles, and comes out with a palmful, which she gently tosses to the grateful birds. As she watches, a few more descend.
“Do you come to this spot often?” Ganondorf asks as she brushes the lingering kernels from her hands.
She looks at him, wondering if she should say. If he does mean her harm, this place that she only comes to when she means to be alone would be a delightful place for any would-be kidnapper. But, on the other hand, if he is to be her husband, he will learn soon enough.
“Yes,” she tells him, reaching to brush her knuckles across the rose nearest her, the last few drops of morning dew clinging to the downy softness of its petals. “I love this place.”
“It is lovely,” he says. “Quiet, peaceful. I was happy to find a place to myself.”
She turns to look at him, curious despite herself. “Do you have a place like it? Back home?”
Ganondorf is still watching the birds, but as she speaks, he turns to her, his expression soft.
“I do,” he says, sounding pleased. “We have orange trees growing in what passes for our garden. They grow in a small alcove tucked away from prying eyes. There’s a fountain there. It’s peaceful.” He seems to hesitate, then adds, “They smell divine when they’re in bloom. Perhaps one day I can show you.”
“Perhaps,” she replies, for politeness sake. She is her father’s only heir. He would never let her venture out into the desert, not even if she had all the guards in Hyrule with her.
Perhaps, she thinks, when she is queen. If her husband has not attempted a coup by then.
They have drawn an entire flock by now, not only robins, but jays and turtle doves. They bicker amongst themselves for the seed, their chatter light and easy. She only wishes that her entire day could be this quiet.
“Are you looking forward to the feast tonight?” she asks, only half listening as she watches one of the larger jays wallop one of the doves with its wing.
“I never look forward to feasts,” Ganondorf tells her gravely, which surprises her enough that she lets out a sharp bark of laughter.
When she’s done laughing, she looks at him, tears in her eyes, and confesses, “Neither do I.”
.
“Looking for your knight, princess?” Ganondorf whispers out of the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t duck his head towards her, but there’s a barely noticeable tilt to his head that means he wants to, that he wants his lips pressed right up against her ear, where he can speak truly to only her. The whisper, she thinks, will have to suffice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispers back, her eyes finding Link’s even as the words leave her mouth. He is watching them, but there’s a faint crack in his mask, a flash of pain bare on his face for all of Hyrule to see before he catches her looking and schools it into careful blankness once more.
Ganondorf chuckles, a warm rumble that she can feel through her entire body, from head to toes.
“Of course, you don’t,” he tells her, something faintly mocking in his voice. It makes her hackles go up, spine straightening as she lifts her head to look at him.
He is looking down at her now, and on his lips is a smile that she hasn’t seen from him yet. It isn’t the soft private smile from this morning, nor is it the polite smile that he gives her father and the rest of court. This is a strange smile, just for her, and it appears entirely genuine.
“Are you mocking me, sir?” she asks him.
“Perhaps,” he tells her, unexpectedly lifting her into a spin. She reels, a bit dizzy when he sets her back onto her feet. He smiles again, as if he’s laughing at her, and ducks his head to whisper in her ear, “Is it working?”
She blinks hard, finding Link over his shoulder again.
“Is what working?” she asks breathlessly.
She can feel his smile against her ear, the feel of it curving upwards. She shivers.
His lips move against her ear, his breath warm against her throat. “Am I making him jealous?”
She flinches. Not hard, but just enough to make her misstep. She corrects herself, but people have already seen.
There will be whispers. Rumors.
She huffs, and looks away from him, careful to keep her gaze away from Link.
“I told you,” she says coolly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He laughs again, but obligingly straightens, taking his mouth far out of her reach.
They dance in silence until the music stops.
Favorite lines (excerpt):
“You can, you know,” Mobius tells him, and Loki wants to ask what, wants to ask if that’s freestanding permission— to take anything he wants, anything he needs.
“Can I?” Loki asks, his voice a rasp in the dark.
Mobius nods, his nose sliding against Loki’s. He’s holding his breath, Loki thinks, and that won’t do. Loki needs him to breathe.
He kisses him.
Mobius makes a thin noise, like he hadn’t really expected Loki to do it, then something heavier as his mouth slides open under Loki’s.
Loki reaches, curling his fingers against Mobius’s cheek, pulling him closer, until they’re almost on top of one another. Loki wants— he wants a great many things. He wants to kiss Mobius until his breathing goes erratic. Wants to crawl backwards onto the desk and let Mobius have him there, just like this. Wants to touch him all over, map out every square inch of his body until Loki knows every whorl of hair, every wayward freckle.
“Mm,” Mobius hums as Loki breaks the kiss. Their lips make a wet sound as they separate. The sound of it is thrilling. It makes him want more. Mobius clearly is on the same page, his eyes flickering open slowly, watching Loki through slitted eyes. As Loki watches, he smiles and asks, “Feel better?”
He does, actually.
The panic is ebbing, his heart regaining its normal rhythm, his vision no longer tunneling. He doesn’t feel as out of control now, like time itself is slipping away from him.
Loki licks his lips, ignoring the way that Mobius’ eyes linger on his mouth, and nods. He leans in for another kiss, this one shorter. He is very aware of the light of the loom, going ever brighter outside the window. Not long now.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mobius tells him, leaning smugly back against the computers when Loki has finished with him. He looks rumpled. His hair askew, his lips bruised. Loki wants to wreck him.
“Don’t worry about what?” Loki asks, distracted.
Mobius jerks his head towards the loom, the timelines, the constant writhe of them against the blackness of the void. “That. Don't worry. You’ll get it right next time.”
Loki hisses, his head jerking up. He meets Mobius’ laughing eyes. Says, “When did you figure it out?”
Mobius shrugs, flashing Loki a look. “You didn’t get that good at physics overnight, Loki. Come on. How long have you been at this?”
Loki doesn’t know. Not really. He’s lost count. Lost count quickly even. “Too long.”
Mobius eyes him. He’s still reclined back against the computers, his elbows planted firmly under him, legs slightly splayed. Loki can see the length of him, hard in his slacks. It’s tempting. He is tempting. If they had more time, then maybe—
Mobius is still watching him, like he can see Loki's every thought printed out and set before him in real time. Who knows, maybe he can.
“Next time,” Mobius tells him, like a promise.
The light outside the window is growing brighter, the rattling of the entire structure around them getting louder.
Loki breathes.
“You won’t remember,” Loki says, feeling a tug of… something at that. Hurt, maybe. Grief, perhaps— for this version of Mobius that his hands have touched, this version who won’t exist five minutes from now.
“Maybe not,” Mobius tells him with an unconcerned shrug. “But I can promise you I’ll be receptive.”
Loki snorts. “That sure of yourself, are you?”
Mobius’ smile goes soft, secret. A little sad around the edges.
“With you?” he says. “Always.”
.
Ganondorf is enormous, well over seven feet tall and thick with heavy, corded muscle, the bulk of him great enough that in the months prior to his arrival, the castle staff had seriously considered widening several doorways around the castle. And while she is glad to know that he is able to fit through their doorways without issue, his size is… intimidating.
His hair is swept up into a glinting gold crown, the color a deep russet red that’s several shades darker than the rest of his kin. He's bare from the waist up, his naked torso heavily adorned, golden hoops in his ear lobes, a heavy looking necklace of gold and ruby draped around his throat, intricate designs swirling down to just above his navel. Delicate chains link the neck piece to golden cuffs squeezed tight around his biceps and then, even further down, another pair of arm guards that run from forearm to wrist. There is even, she realizes, her face going red, a pair of simple golden hoops through two brown nipples. They glint back at her in the afternoon light, mocking.
Zelda, who had missed the first of the introductions during her inspection of her betrothed, blinks hard, head jerking up when she hears her own name echoing through the chamber. She turns towards her father, who is looking back at her expectantly. She has no idea what he’s said, but she can guess.
She clears her throat, stepping forward until she is at the very edge of the dais. Her eyes find Ganondorf’s.
His eyes are warm. Gold. There’s intelligence there – slyness and cunning, yes – but even as the force of his gaze holds her in place, she recognizes something more there. A challenge. The potential for cruelty, perhaps. It will be a game, she thinks, looking at him. He will do his duty. He will wed her and unite their peoples, even swear fealty to Hyrule. And yet, she’s somehow sure that he will spend the rest of their lives testing her, looking for cracks in her armor, waiting and watching for a chance to usurp her throne.
She watches as he goes down to one knee before her, and finds her mouth wet as he reaches for her hand, saliva pooling against her tongue. Suddenly, she is very aware of everything. Her father beside her. Link at her back. Ganondorf’s kinsman watching her with a careful blankness masking their curiosity. There are wolves in the castle and they are hungry.
“Hello, Princess Zelda,” he says, mouth quirking upwards into something that’s more smirk than smile. His voice is warm, smooth like liquid honey.
“Ganondorf,” she makes herself say, willing her voice not to waver as she gives an estimation of a curtsy. It isn’t quite proper, but it is within the polite boundaries of etiquette. No one will be able to fuss.
His smile grows as his gaze flicks over her right shoulder, to where she knows Link is standing. She cannot allow herself to look, but she can guess that Link is likely standing there, his face carefully blank, the perfect soldier. She wonders what drew Ganondorf’s attention – a tightening of Link’s fingers around the hilt of his sword? A flicker of an expression around his mouth?
Whatever it is, Link holds Ganondorf’s attention for several long moments. Zelda can feel her hand begin to sweat against Ganondorf’s palm and longs to withdraw it. Then, Ganondorf’s smile goes a touch crooked, showing teeth, and still holding Link’s gaze, he ducks and presses his lips to her knuckles. Only then does he return his gaze to hers.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Ganondorf tells her, releasing her hand at last. Zelda can feel the burn of his lips against her skin, warmth blossoming outwards, sending seeking tendrils crawling down her wrist. She has to fight the urge to hide her hand behind her skirts.
She swallows again and makes herself smile, even as a shiver runs through her. “The pleasure is all mine.”
.
A hand touches her elbow and she flinches, expecting Link, but when she turns, it’s Ganondorf. He’s looking at her seriously, his heavy brows knotted. There is no calculating or cruelty on that face, only understanding.
“Wife,” he says, and that’s a little stab of agony as well, knowing that it is done, knowing that she is as good as shackled to the man next to her. “We don’t have to do this tonight.”
Her head jerks up, mouth parting. She’d expected cruelty, she realizes, looking into his eyes. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought that Ganondorf could be kind.
It is a sweet offer, but a barbed one, as well. Even if she were to put the night off – how long would he wait? A week? A month? Years? What if she never wished to bed him? Would he allow that or would he go to her father and declare the marriage contract null.
No, better to get this over with.
Zelda swallows and shakes her head. Her eyes go to Link, standing just to the left of Ganondorf. His face is like stone, still refusing to look at her. He will hold vigil, here at her door. He will… hear. She’s known that all along, but now, it’s like an arrow in her gut. She shouldn’t have kissed him.
There’s a soft sound in the hallway, a quick inhalation, and her eyes go to Ganondorf, who is looking down at her with something like realization. A knowing. Even a soft smugness.
“Oh,” Ganondorf says, voice thick with understanding. Her heart drops as Ganondorf looks between them, face creased. “It is like that, then. I had wondered.”
Link doesn’t look up at either of them, his jaw merely tightening as he stands straight under Ganondorf’s gaze.
Ganondorf laughs, a soft thing, colored with amusement, as he leans back against the door to her rooms. Light from Zelda’s candle glints off of his crown, off of the plate of gold laid over his chest. He’s still looking between them.
“Hm,” he says once he’s finished laughing, reaching for Zelda’s hand. She gives it to him, her heart hammering in her chest, and sucks in a quiet breath when he steps forward and gently draws her over the threshold to her rooms. He takes the candle from her, setting it into the waiting sconce, and looks back over his shoulder at Link, who is still stone-faced and silent at the door.
He quirks an eyebrow at him and says, “Well, aren’t you coming?”
Shock explodes across Link’s face, blue eyes going wide as a ruddy blush instantly colors his cheeks. His mouth drops, lips parting as a huff of surprise leaves him. He stares at Ganondorf, open-mouthed, the emotion bleeding back into him all at once.
He glances towards Zelda, as if looking to confirm what he’d just heard.
Zelda, who finds that her mouth is also open, only shakes her head in disbelief.
Link’s eyes go back to Ganondorf’s, only to dart away again, skittish.
Ganondorf chuckles again, stepping forward until he’s once again looming in the doorway. He cocks his head, as if curious, eyes running up and down Link’s body, heavy with intent.
“I will admit,” Ganondorf tells him, that same strange smile playing around his lips as he reaches out, brushing a wayward curl from Link’s face. “It’s been some time since I had a boy in my bed, but having the both of you won’t be such a hardship.”
He casts a glance over his shoulder towards her even as his palm slides up to cup Link’s cheek, an almost proprietary grip, his thumb coming to rest at the corner of Link’s mouth. She’s shocked to realize that she wants to see what would happen if Link opened his mouth and sucked it in.
Ganondorf must see something of her thoughts on her face, because he laughs again, louder, a rumble deep in his chest.
“What do you think, princess?” Ganondorf asks, cocking his head. His smile is wide, knowing. “Would having your young knight here with us make the marriage bed more palatable?”
Fic goals:
No goals this year, I don't think. Only to write what I want to write. And as per my resolution, work on the original work as much as I can.
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Less people know me on tumblr than they do on twitter so I feel a bit safer using this as, like, yknow, a blog that is personal, and something that’s been eating at me for a while is that the pencils to the first two pages of the next IKROAH have been done for a while but when I tried to ink them I fucked it up so bad that I’ll probably just have to completely redraw them, and I don’t think anything that discouraging has happened to me before since I started drawing back in 2020. It’s just been really hard to motivate myself for the mulligan when I’m already worried about messing the inks up again, and also I’ve been under a heat advisory for the past week and change so I’m already too hot and sweaty to be motivated to do much of anything lmfao
I remember when IKROAH first started I would put out issues every two weeks or so, and then once per month, and treated that as almost like a schedule or a deadline, which was insane! All while working the same full-time job that I do now! Admittedly that pace was only achievable because frankly my art was worse and sloppier and while impatience is definitely still my biggest weakness as an artist, I have undoubtedly improved over time but at a certain point making art better means taking more time on it. It’s created this weird conflicting feeling where art and comic pages aren’t something that I can just bang out in a day or a few days anymore, and even relatively small projects are pretty big time and attention investments. Obviously I could revert this by just embracing drawing more shittily but, like, come on, I have my own standards. And this isn’t insurmountable and doesn’t mean that I hate drawing now, not at all, but this change in my relationship to my art and my art-making has definitely been on my mind a lot, especially as I’m aware of how much I’d rather just play video games or hang out with my husband whenever I’m not at my job. Because that’s a big part of it, the increase in how much art feels like “work” means I don’t want to do it as much in my leisure time. It’s good work, it’s work that I love doing (much more than my actual job lmao), but it’s still work and lately I haven’t wanted to work!
It’s another funny balance. A wise friend of mine once said, bluntly, that you do it or it doesn’t get done. This applies to making and finishing art of any kind, reading books, cleaning house, developing skills, etc., and applies even if you’re sick or busy or distracted by myriad other things. If the only people who ever made and finished art were the idle people with the luxury of all the time in the world, we’d only have pretty shitty and boring art. So unfortunately the only way to get good art or to make it is to power through feelings of overwork or sickness or exhaustion or whatever is ailing you and make it anyway. Intellectually, I know this, but emotionally(?) I’m just dealing with a real lack of steam ever since I finished a zine at the start of May. It’s not like I depend on commissions or print sales for income or anything, anyway, so it’s not like I have an urgent need to be drawing, either, the way some other artists might be.
These thoughts don’t really have a point. I suppose I’m just self-conscious about falling off such a meaningful hobby to me for so long, about not Making Things, especially as someone who generally figured that she Makes Things? But it doesn’t feel like burnout or loss of interest, it just feels like I’m doing what I want to do and enjoying it and I just don’t want to make art as much as I used to. Maybe if I got paid my current salary to work on comics eight hours a day instead of doing data entry I’d get a lot more art done but that just goes back to the previous paragraph lol. I don’t really need any kind of “chin up lou, i’m sure you’ll be able to draw again soon” or “it’s okay take all the time you need” kinds of comments because I feel like I know these things already and I’m just Posting Through It
Anyway how’s your summer going
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@asundered.
I know what you are thinking.
It would be easier to just answer you before you ask me: Nick, what the fuck are you doing? It would be easier, but Amy is teaching me. Easy is not always better. She is right. That is the case a lot of of the time, and I can admit that, because I am not my father. Amy is smiling, not a too - wide smile, not a smarmy smile, not a false smile that someone could point a finger at and say hey, doesn't she look a little fucking demented? Amy would not. Amy could never.
Somebody clears their throat from the front row of chairs seated down below the panel, and says something to me that I do not hear at first, because I am looking at Amy, and she is not looking at me. I am studying the side of her face as if I have never seen it before, because I am noticing for the first time how much it must hurt to hold her muscles just so, so perfect, so that she can look demure and beautiful and sexy and wise and angelic. She never so much as twitches, even when her beautiful, pale hand slithers up over my knee and her short, clean nails press into the seam of my pants, and I can imagine so clearly how it would feel if there were nothing there to stop her, how she might dig down deep into the meat of my thigh and even deeper to the bone and its marrow and take a chunk of me into her hand. I would still be watching her. I would still be waiting, reading, and committing to memory. But for now, I need to make Amy happy. Happy wife, Happy life. I swivel my head back to the columnist, and I smile, and I smile.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? It's so hard to take your eyes off her, isn't it?" A chuckle, resounding. Good. The reporter asks again: If you could describe Amy's book in one word, what would it be?
It's so easy. It's so easy I almost waver, I almost say something else, I almost overthink it, because I am still Nick and I still want to be clever. But I am not my worst impulses anymore. I am the man that she has made me.
"Well. It's amazing, of course."
Why did I marry a man so fucking glib? Dear Diary, my husband thinks I’m fucking crazy. No, worse than that — he looks at me and he sees the spider that’s crawled into his ear and left him without so much of a flinch. It’s impressing.
The cameras are all on us, sweetie. It’s time to give them a show.
A strong, stable show. We are two people who have just come out the other side of total fucking ruin. If you want to see how strong your relationship is, see how the man you love reacts when you get kidnapped and tied to the corners of the bed by a scornful lover. Hm. Maybe I should rephrase. Desi was never much of a lover. He smelt like cucumber water and his mother’s perfume — wet lettuce is just about ample enough to describe the way he looked at me. See, reader, we have been through so much together, that Nick comes out the other side, dusts off whatever hang-ups and kill-my-wife tendencies that are bound to run in his blood, and he smiles that gorgeous, charming, southern hospitality smile.
I am naught but a doting wife. The blood, the shame, the crocodile tears aside, and that’s who I’ve become. I hold him close, like it’s some twisted, all-American show of true fidelity — don’t worry, listeners, watchers, America’s Public: we can get through this. We can get through anything. My sweet hubby played away, but now I know he’s here to stay. (Anniversary six anyone? The traditional gift is iron. My exasperating husband is no doubt thinking that that means manacles.)
Amazing. Sometimes I fucking hate my husband.
I am not amazing. I am exceptional. Perfect. Calm. Fantastic — flippant, that might be, it’s a better fucking word than amazing. Amazing Amy shoves a box cutter into a rapist’s neck. Amazing Amy drinks Windex to keep Darling Husband close to her side. Amazing Amy digs her fucking talons into Darling Husband to keep him from floating away.
He makes me laugh. He makes me giggle like a fucking school girl and I run my hand over the inside of his thigh. Raunchy, no? Ellen Abbott looks like her head’s about to fucking explode, but I lean back and rest my perfect little head against his shoulder for just a beat.
“Oh, he’s too sweet. Isn’t he, Ellen? My little Nicky.” I squeeze. It’s playful, fun — just like me! — but also a warning. One fucking toe out of line, Nick.
“I couldn’t have written it without him. Gosh, I mean — my husband’s a real writer, Ellen.”
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I didn’t wanna clean when she wanted me to,
I didn’t wanna give her love how she wanted me to
I saw that we being together was holding us back,
I became cold, I started to get angrier and angrier because it didn’t seem like she really wanted my best as I wanted her. She kept playing mind games, her arguments started making less sense, like she just wanted to win at all times. I didn’t understand why she would treat me like I’m her enemy, I tried to mold myself so she wouldn’t be mad but at random times she would just explote at me, she said she loved me but I started to believe it less and less because she was taking away my independence.. she would ask me that she wanted me to introduce new ideas or activities but she never wanted to do what I wanted to do, and I was always there to do what she wanted to do. It made me feel alone.
Now looking back I realize that all this was is an adult dating an immature person. She could never meet my ideals but I somehow was supposed to always meet her.
I broke up with her several times but it wasn’t cuz I didn’t love her it’s because it was growing too toxic and too depended and I cared deeply for her to the point that I would neglect how I feel and what i needed to make sure she was not hurt by my actions but that wasn’t the solution.
Yes I was cold and I didn’t meet her needs,
But my needs weren’t met either. I wanted to build with her and I sacrificed so much for her even my health.
I am such a softie tho because even tho I understand the depth and how she wanna make it seem like I hurt her so badly, I never once lied. I always told the truth and everything she agreed with.
Trust me I get it we are all humans we all feel pain but your pain can’t be because another person is not doing what you want them to, but I can assure you if I had being heard I would have never become cold towards her or anyone. My mental health declined because of this relationship I developed OCD, and I mean BAD OCD.. not her fault maybe? But all the toxicity that I had to absorb.
At the end of the day in me eyes I changed for worse due to her hidden patterns and behaviors that then affected her. She showed a lot of love but her actions made me feel other wise. As years passed I saw a lot of dark stuff happening that really made me feel like we needed to distance ourselves from each other to truly grow.
I am angry because she did so many mind tricks which is funny cuz all girls do this stuff..
At the end of the day bro fuck it, I wanna help the world be a better place and I’m actually working at it. If that doesn’t speak waves I don’t know nor I care who will. I do what i do for the universe and I’m not out here trying to hurt peoples feeling based on whatever is it that they perceive. Tbh hopefully she finds what she is looking for, but I know for a fact that it will be extremely hard to find someone like me that is willing to tell the truth even when I’m losing everything in exchange. I tell the truth for their benefits never for mine. 🤞🏼😌
Thanks to god and the universe and devil for all the ladies I’ve meet and are not part of my life that truly show me what a person that has dept of emotion is like. I never felt so loved in my life. I’m also living my dream, many females loving me at once, and being okay with that and all of us being free, and of harm.
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It Doesn’t Sink In Until You Actually Look in the Mirror
I feel like recently once been doing better compared to past years. I’d say I only have a complete breakdown like once a week to a month depending on how things are going. Though there’s still always a feeling at the back of my mind no matter what I’m doing air where I am that’s always scratching and clawing away at me. I have nothing to look forward to. I distract myself day to day with whatever mini arch’s going to get some comedy for the people who are still watching this late into the series, after the quality’s severely gone down and the plots are just getting reused from previous seasons. I don’t really know what kind of job I would want to do because I get bored of things so quickly, and any job I find that I do like I usually leave because I think I can do better money-wise. Though I never save up to move out. What’s the point? To speedrun my fucking depression? Because I know the second I’m completely out on my own for like a week I’ll blow my brains out. I try to pretend like I don’t need people, and I’m pretty introverted so it’s not like I always feel like I need to be around people- but that tends to make me spend what feels like weeks holed up in my room and slowly dying since there’s so little time to spend with the few people around me anymore. Parents are always working. Sisters have their own million things to do. The one friend I have I don’t have any money so I don’t want to bother if I can’t pay for anything that I would wanna do. So I wait for a time when something can happen, and I’m disappointed because everyone’s too tired and busy. I don’t blame them. For my last job I couldn’t do a lot because I was working a lot of the time. So now I dig my face in my phone and try to get through the day. I clean toys, fix my collection. I got a TikTok account and started making videos but now I’m just addicted to watching the numbers slightly go up. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten it but I fucking did with the excuse that there’s more MH videos on there or whatever. Still a fucking hypocrite as always.
But anyways- I know that once I leave my parent’s house there’s nothing for me out there. I feel bad for leeching off of them this long but I don’t have the money and I know on the little times I’ve been truly alone I’ve come seconds away from being another body bag. What is there out there? Exploration that I don’t want to do? Finding a job that ranges from hating it but gets enough money to get by or a job I like where I get paid like I work at McDonald’s? Wasting my time searching for some magical fucking unicorn of a girl to not think I’m repugnant and take me as her like fiftieth option only for us to end in loveless marriage where she’s fucking my friend because I have nothing to offer, if I CAN EVEN FIND A WOMAN? Maybe ending up in a loveless hetero marriage where I’m used as a fucking toy to some manchild before I gut myself? Having kids that I’ll want to strangle after having that little fucker destroy my body even further than I already have before they grow up to be a crack dealer before killing me and taking my last sixteen bucks? Building a collection that just gets me a small hit of dopamine for spending like $50 a day, only for some scum of the fucking earth to break in and steal it all? Care about politics for every single fucking brain-rotted 900-year-old to stroll up and pick the dumbest fucking decisions possible and send everybody back to the fucking Stone Age? Eat myself to death to get that last shred of dopamine? Care about my appearance for it to just continually get worse until I fit perfectly into everyone’s favorite little trailer trash trope? WHAT IS THERE TO FUCKING LIVE FOR?! If this is supposed to be the goddamn peak of my life both physically and emotionally and I’m sitting here staring at a screen and praying that I get 100 fucking people to sit and watch me play with dolls?
A random thought, but I rewatched Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron recently. It’s been one of my favorite movies since I was a kid but I don’t watch it often so I don’t get burnt out on it, so when I rewatched it the other day it felt like I was watching it for the first time. I was legitimately crying at the end because I love that movie so much. I pretty much never feel anything after watching a movie besides “Oh that was pretty good” or “That was bad.” This feeling I got in that moment was pure fucking bliss. I for once felt like life was worth living, like the world could be beautiful and people could make art so powerful that it actually changes you. I know, I know, it’s stupid. But my heart was soaring and I felt like humans weren’t actual hell for once. Life is precious and worth it and you can find the most brilliant amazing beautiful things in places where most people might not. I loved a lot of movies before, and I’ve always loved this movie but this time it felt like it hit me just perfectly. I’ve seen movies that made me feel a certain way, but I was full-on bawling afterwards out of joy for once. I couldn’t stop crying and smiling.
I still don’t know why I felt so happy after it.
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Love, Sex, Gender
I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships and how my mind works revolving around them. It’s overall confusing and complex and I’m just so frustrated that it is that way.
Falling in love for me takes a very long time, I really can’t see myself entering a relationship with someone who I don’t know for at least a few years; even then we’d have to be extremely close. Having a partner is something I’ve never actively sought out, when I’m single I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything and hell I almost feel like It’s better riding solo. Though sometimes I fear I’m too independent, yet paradoxically my last two relationships have been extremely co-dependent to a fault. And like, I still experience crushes and like can find celebrities hot or whatever. Like I was really interested in a friend and she was super into me but the soon after we got together it just didn’t feel right, I barely knew anything about her, and she barely knew anything about me it didn’t make sense to me that something like that could happen so fast.
It’s not that I don’t want a partner but I don’t see myself going out of my way to find one either. Idk, It’s like I want it to happen “naturally” in some way, where that line between friends and partners seamlessly transitions. But I feel like that can really fuck me up given that’s a line that should be rather solid. And I’m mad I did attempt to cross that line when I really wasn’t fully sure if it was something I actually wanted. Granted I should have been more open with those feelings but I was really stuck in this state of back and forth where I’d either be frustrated I wasn’t saying how I felt and on the flip side I’d be having days where I was grateful I kept my mouth shut because it wasn’t what I wanted. Even though I did spill in the end, I immediately wanted to take it back because it hit me that it wasn’t what I wanted; of course, I hadda fuck everything up in the process to get to my final conclusion, but I needed that clean break.
Aside from romantic feelings, I’m starting to think I fall somewhere on the ace spectrum sexuality-wise. I haven’t felt attracted to anyone I’ve known in that way since my first boyfriend and even then I don’t think I was all that into him. And I bring this up because like I’m still a virgin and like I'm not sure if it’s just stupid purity culture being bashed into my head, but I would prefer my first time be with someone I really truly love. At the same time, it’s like this idea slams into my head that if I ever do have sex with that “special someone” then the whole relationship from there will be ruined in some way. Which is so strange beacuse I do find sex to be romantic on some level (though if you were to ask a friend they’d say I thought sex was funny as shit for whatever reason which is also true), but yhea to be that close to someone seems really special, how could it possibly ruin things?
I don’t know how to properly explain it, but I think that it could partially be because of my gender identity as well. Like I’m non-binary but I’m leaning on the masc side and most days wish my body was that of a cis man’s. Sometimes I feel like if I was born male I wouldn’t have had this wack-ass mindset. I could just date whoever without thinking, have a body count in the hundreds, whatever. Like shit ik the joke where it's like “Oh bro if you watch the guy in porn that means you're gay” Like no bitch I’m picturing myself as the guy. I always have. Looking back I do find myself being mad at em for not listening to me on how I was talking about my body, what I was thinking about, openly considering things like going on T and getting bottom surgery. Dude always preached about people having different experiences but I guess mine was wrong in some way. I’m already teetering on the rope enough, I don’t need you bouncing on the line. I’m saying it so calmly now but every thought about it recently has been screaming “How dare you tell me how I feel about my body, how dare you of all people, of all fucking people try and tell me what I’m feeling, what I fuckin’ want and don’t want.” Like yhea physically transitioning is gonna be uncomfortable, the body is being forcefed hormones and going through puberty part 2 now with DLC. I’m not fuckin’ stupid, I know it’s not some magical snap of the fingers (we all wish it was tho). But fuck, the dude was starting T themself, you’d think there'd be more of a “yhea it's uncomfortable but I’m way happier despite that” kind of energy about it, ya know some trans to trans fuckin’ support when I was expressing doubt and hesitation. I’m venting now, sorry, but fuck I think that's when my heart gave up on em despite my head still continuing to be all flip-floppy.
Anywaysssssss. For now I will stick with my Pan-Romantic and Pansexual labels since the way I use it is like “I’ll know it when I see it” kinda deal and like it feels right still, but yhea, I feel like there’s still more things I have to try and figure out about myself about all this. Maybe I’ll try jumping into a relationship kinda spontaneously if the oppurtunity presents itself, see what it’s like for the hell of it.
#Thoughts#romance#sexuality#Do we got any micro lables for this shit?#Pan#panromantic#ace#asexual#questioning#Gender Dysphoria#gender#trans#non-binary#love#vent#pansexual#nonbinary
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It's My Fatherly Duties!
It's My Fatherly Duties!
Short DAD Scenarios
Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo
~ Inui Seishu, Kokonoi Hajime, Izana Kurokawa,
~ Souya Kawata (Angry), Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)
Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, MINORS DNI
Note : requested, I added some characters. Hope ya don’t mind! These are pretty short, just little things I put together. Word barf kinda..? Anyways- I hope you enjoy :))
R I N D O U
His lashes fluttered open when he heard a loud crash coming from the hallway, along with a string of cuss words sounding like his daughter's voice.
“What the hell was that?” You groaned, not a single word was uttered from your husband when he sprung out of bed, bolting to the bedroom down the corridor.
“Tohru?!” Rindou yelled, flinging open the door. Revealing your teenage daughter fully dressed, half way through her second story window. A facade of pillows under her blanket seeminging meant to be her ‘sleeping body’.
“Oh dad, I-”
“What the hell are you doing” The man was fuming by the ears, pajamas ruffled when he jolted out of his slumber.
“Is Tohru okay?” You peeked from behind the broad shouldered man.
“I was just going to get fresh air!” Your daughter lied, making up a somewhat excuse to appease her angered father.
“Hey Tohru! Hurry up and get down here!” You heard a boy's voice call out, looking over at Rindou’s face to see the man's darkened expression.
“Who the fuck is down there? Is that a boy?!” He growled, stomping his feet over to the glass. Pushing past his daughter to take a look.
“Oh shit- her dads here. Let’s book it!” The kids whispered, but loud enough for Rindou to make out, hastily running down the dark street.
“You little shits! Don't you dare come back here!” Rindou growled, slamming the window shut in the process.
“What! Dad!” Tohru whined,
“You're so grounded young lady!” Rindou shouted, not caring for the sleeping neighbors beside his shared condo at three in the morning.
“Rin, she was just having some fun!” You defended, you were also like her when you were her age, trouble makers run in your blood. Actually Rindou couldn't even talk- he was running roppongi at her age.
“No! She's just too young to be hanging out with boys!” Rindou’s brows joined together as he withered in front of you.
“But we dated when we were her age-” You deadpanned at him,
“Grounded! My final answer!”
R A N
Ran was coming home from a late night bonten meeting, mouth agape when he saw his daughter’s feet dangling out from her window.
Fearing the worst he sprinted to the ground below his child, hands outstretched to catch her if she were to misstep.
“Mitsuri!” His voice boomed,
“Eh? Dad?!” His daughter stuttered, slowly slid out the window, climbing down like she had done this many times prior to this awkward occurrence.
Toes easily touching the grass with ease, not a scratch upon the females porcelain skin.
“Ran?” You yawned, cracking the door ajar. It was late, you waking up to your husband's screams outside your house.
“Mitsuri, what are you doing climbing out your window like a maniac?!” Ran scowled, hands running through his messed up hair. Sweat dripping down his temple from the not so pleasant adrenaline rush.
“I was just gonna hang out with some friends..” your daughter answered, fingers gripping the edge of her shirt, scarily waiting for her dad’s reaction.
“At this time of night? .. out your window?”
“Ye-”
“Phone privileges. Give me it.” Ran demanded, palm stretched out.
“But-” no question she was a tad bit spoiled by her father. You being the bad cop, while your husband played the good cop for his beloved daughter.
“If you want to go anywhere all you got to do is ask!” Ran plucked the phone from his daughter's hand, a wave of relief washing over him. Secretly thanking whatever being watching over him that it wasn't some sort of gang related subject.
“This is what you get for spoiling her!” You laughed from the sidelines, hand clutching your stomach.
“This is your fault too ya know!” Ran argued.
“I’m the one who tries to discipline her! But someone always lets it go!” You emphasized the special somebody.
“Whatever” Ran sighed, This was a lesson for the usual carefree man, a special lesson he wouldn't forget in the many years to come with his unborn future children.
S A N Z U
It was Sanzu’s best day of his life when his daughters were born, the two only being about one year apart. They were spoiled to the core, anything they wanted their money liberl father blessed them with. He thought they were the sweetest things ever, them both being a daddy's girl after all.
He never would have expected to see both of his daughters outside his humble abode, standing beside two boys, most likely a double date.
He stared in shock, hands pressed firmly against the glass, teeth gritting.
“Huh? I tucked them into bed an hour ago” You rubbed your eyes, riding yourself of the sleepiness threatening to drown you. The pink haired only tutted his teeth, swifty twisting the door knob to confront the four children outside.
“Oh you better run” your oldest daughter whispered, gesturing for the boys to make haste from her deadly father.
“You better not come back here, unless you want trouble you fuckers!” Sanzu yelled, red in the eyes from anger. Not bothering to chase after the two scoundrels.
“Dad, mom! What are you guys doing awake?” Your youngest asked, sheer panic in her eyes, watching her insane fathers unpleasant smile.
“I swear you two will be the death of me” Sanzu uttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. A irked gleen in his orbs as he stared them down.
“They were just friends dad, stop overreacting” the older daughter said,
“I- You little shi-” He bit his lip to suppress his anger fueled words, knowing well it would definitely hurt his precious children's feelings. Having regretted it later if he were to say those sinful words.
“Now now Sanzu, let's head to bed” You wrapped your arms around your lover, dragging him inside the house.
“You can sort out their punishment tomorrow, after a good night's sleep” , coating him with reassuring words. That day he learned how misjudged he was of his children, even so he still loved them with all his heart.
I Z A N A
Izana had his feet kicked up, relaxing in his office while he watched the moon. He had a clear view, the street lamps positioned next to the sidewalk, the side of his beautiful house facing his office window. He was enjoying his free time, mind taking over his body while he thought about his life choices. He was in ease until he saw his son's window light up, a long string of rope being tossed out the opening.
Sitting up from his chair, he rushed over to his clear casement. Throwing his window open, a boy and girl standing beneath his son's window. The two holding the rope still as your child tried to slid down.
“My my Yuki, where are you off to?” Izana laughed, nerves finally relaxing when he figured out what was going on. Calmly settling into the frame, head leaning on his chin. It wasn't like he had the right to be upset, he did much worse when he was his son's age. Robbing, fighting, killing. You name it, Izana’s done it.
Sneaking out was nothing compared to what he did, but he wasn't gonna just let his son go. He was more wise now, he knew for a fact he didn't want his son to end up anything like him. Sure, he wanted the boy to have fun, but in a normal kid way.
“Dad! Um- I”
“You better get your arse back up that window before I drag you around with that rope” Izana smiled, Totally different from the sentence he was portraying. Not forgetting his manners, giving a nonchalant wave to the other two kids.
“Zana? Who are you talking to?” You asked, placing a cup of tea you had prepared for Izana on his desk.
“Oh no one doll” Izana answered, closing the window before walking over to you.
“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He proposed, trailing his hands around your shoulders, guiding you to the door.
“But the tea I made”
“Im tired~”
Overall the male wouldn't want to talk further about the situation, nor would he discuss it with you. Trivial matters held no place between you both, as long as the child did not dare do it again.
I N U I
Inui wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead, the AC wasnt working at the motor shop. Him, draken and yourself were sweating bullets, the hot material around you not helping. You had decided to help the pair around the shop, cleaning what you could. Or helping with cashing every customer out, it would've been an easy task if it wasn't blazing hot.
Leaving your daughter home alone, obviously thinking she’d stay and do her teenage things. You couldn't be more mistaken, astounded as you watched her fiddle around with a boy across the street at the ice cream parlor.
“Y/N please don't tell me that Kagura..” Inui’s jaw dropped, the wrench that was once in his clasp dropping to the ground. Startling the concentrating Draken that was crouched over a motorbike.
“What's wrong Inui? Y/N” Draken twisted his body around, raising a brow when you two just started muttering to each other like two creeps.
“Is that... a boy” Inui held his chin between his fingers, squinting to get a better view of his kid.
“You trying to catch flies with your mouth Inui? Close your yap” You whispered,
“Y/N! She's too young, I feel like I just held her in my arms not too long ago. She can't get married just yet!” Inui argued, he would've been on the verge of tears if he didn't have a reputation to uphold.
“What? The fuck are you on Inui? She's probably just with a friend!” You patted his back, reassuring the man.
“Boys and girls can be friends ya’know” you added.
Cueing the two children across the road from you, feeding scoops of ice cream to each other.
“I don't think friends do that..” Inui looked over at you, eyes widening when you swung the motor shop’s door open. Hands coming around your mouth to amplify your words,
“Kagura, is that your boyfriend?”
“WHAT?” Inui almost fainted, the ledge behind him holding his wobbly frame up right.
“I didn't know you guys would be here!” Your daughter jogged across the street, leaving the boy sitting by himself.
“And no! Just a friend” She answered your embarrassing, blushing as she stared down at the ground.,
“I sense some lies” you wiggled playfully at the flustered girl.
“What! Anyways, Sorry I left the house without telling you” Kagura apologized,
“Just don't do it again, without my permission..” Inui stated,
“Especially not with a boy.”
K O K O N O I
Bribing people is his forte, and if they did not obliged? Threatening always did the trick.
And that's exactly what he did when he saw his descendant out with a male. All was dandy until the boy came running back, babbling about how his girl was the so called ‘love of his life’.
“Hey brat, you got a death wish?” Kokonoi asked, leaning against the door frame.
“Koko go easy on him, he’s just a kid” You nudged the man, a mischievous grin plastered on the males face.
“And I kinda think it's cute” You said, a small smile erupting from your daughter that was not so far behind her parents.
“I approve, kid! I like your romantic drive!” You clapped,
“Y/N!” Kokonoi pouted,
“You better not try to bribe him with money again” You threatened, waving a finger at the whiny man.
“Yeah! I like him too, dad!” Your daughter agreed.
“You're like twelve, go play chess or something” Kokonoi barked, crossing his arms in disapproval.
“Dad, I'm sixteen!”
“That's what I said”
S O U Y A
He almost had a panic attack at the sight, having to shield the man from the scene playing out. Your twin daughter saying their goodbyes to their dates, followed by a kiss. You removed your hand when the boys were no longer in view, riding off in their motorcycles.
“Shira, Nihra” You held Souya up by the shoulder, the light headed male limping towards the worried kids.
“What's wrong with dad?” Nihra questioned, eyeing her ghostly pale father.
“He's out of it” You giggled,
“I'm not crazy am i?” He stood tall, letting go of the arm you had draped around him.
“There was boys-” His voice cracked.
“You saw that dad?” Shira sweat dropped, watching as her fathers should leave his body.
“Next time ask before you go out” You smiled, you weren't too strict on the two. They were Souya’s children, earning most of their adorable traits from him. Even his fighting skills.
“This better not happen again, i'm trusting you” Souya grumbled.
“Sorry pops” The two girls remorsefully sollied the man, both hooking onto one of Souya’s arms as they helped his shell into the house.
N A H O Y A
Nahoya was beyond pissed, infamous smile widening. Taking fast steps towards your daughter and her significant other.
“Look boy, I don't know who you are. But my daughters not up for grabs” Nahoya grinned, cracking his fingers.
“O-okay sir” the boy was jittering, body trembling from the males intense arua.
“If I catch ya here again” he used his finger to slash his neck, motioning to the death that would happily greet the boy if they were to ever meet again.
“Yer dead meat kiddo” Nahoya laughed, watching as the boy ran for his life.
“Dad, that was really extra!” Your daughter sneered, a pout on her lips.
“Shut up!, you're grounded rat!” Nahoya shouted.
“Yeah Nahoya, there was no need to threaten the poor kid. He looked like he was gonna piss himself.”
“Exactly the effect i wanted”
End Note : as I said this was a word barf T-T, so it’s quite short.
Reblogs & Notes are always appreciated! Take care! ♡︎♡︎
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers fluff#tokyo revenger x reader#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers oneshot#tokyo revengers scenarios#tokyo revengers anime#tokyo revengers imagines#souta kawata#tokyo revengers angry#tokyo revengers smiley#tokyo revengers izana#tokyo revengers sanzu#tokyo revengers ran#tokyo revengers rindou#tokyo revengers inui#tokyo revengers kokonoi#bonten#haruchiyo sanzu#sanzu haruchiyo#haitani ran#haitani rindou#izana kurokawa#smiley#inui seishu#hajime kokonoi#izana kurokawa x reader#rindou haitani#ran haitani
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Roommates au, enemies to lovers, “you confuse me.” Supercorp obvs
“You’re a fucking liar.”
This is—objectively speaking—not the worst greeting Kara has ever received from her roommate, and so she takes it in stride. “Uh, hello to you…too,” Kara says slowly, silently running through a list of everything she could have done wrong to warrant such strong words.
But Lena does not offer any explanation; in fact, when she spots Kara in the doorway, she sends her a nasty glare as if Kara has said something wrong. “Don’t pretend you’re a saint in this matter, Lex,” Lena hisses, and only then does Kara notice the cell phone in Lena’s hands. “If I have to go and clean up your mess again…”
So it’s one of those days. Kara wisely shuts the door quietly behind her, and sneaks into the kitchen as Lena takes her argument into her room.
There is a list of chores pinned to the fridge—four black X’s cross out Lena’s, and Kara’s are underlined twice. They have a code, so as to avoid speaking to each other; X’s mean done, underlined means Kara you're a slob and a pain in the ass to live with. (All verbatim, by the way.)
The dishes, however, are not on Kara’s agenda at the moment. She instead takes the expensive whiskey hidden under the sink (that belongs to Alex, not that she has noticed it’s missing), and pours it into a glass with some ice. Then she whips out the ingredients for a stir fry, complete with every vegetable she had been saving for the potluck at work this weekend.
It is an unspoken rule that Lena will shut herself off into her room after this phone call is over. She does that every time her brother calls (and on occasion her mother), and Kara has picked up enough information about her roommate to know Lena will appreciate a hard drink and some food. She hasn’t said so or anything, but every time Kara knocks three times on the door and leaves a plate outside, it will re-emerge an hour later completely empty.
Lena’s voice grows louder despite the distance, and Kara turns on the stereo out of respect for her roommate's privacy. Lena hates the stereo and all it stands for; she argues it is outdated, and they have numerous pieces of technology that are less bulky and fully able to connect to radio stations. But Kara keeps it around anyway, because she still likes buying CD’s (and maybe to bother Lena, which is a bonus).
Blink-182 is playing on that alternative station Alex likes. Kara cranks it up as she cooks, singing under her breath as she sautes bell peppers and onions, ignoring the rumble of her stomach and the tight belt of her work pants still digging into her hips. “Say it ain’t so, I will not go,” she practically yells, poking her head into the fridge for the tofu that Lena always keeps. Kara personally won’t touch the stuff, but Lena is trying to eat less meat. It cuts up easily enough, even though Kara isn’t sure what the proper technique is.
She leaves the finished plate and drink outside after it’s done, rapping on Lena’s door in tune with The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army,” and then finally has some dinner herself. Since the tofu is unappetizing, Kara stores the rest of the stir fry in a container for Lena to take for lunch, and opts for a sandwich. She eats while scrolling through her notifications (she owes Nia twenty bucks, and so far Nia has been clogging up her phone with Venmo requests all well over $500), and keeps the radio on just for background noise.
That’s probably why she doesn’t even notice when Lena approaches; Kara has barely begun to type a text to Nia swearing to bring some cash next time she visits when a sharp voice declares,
“You confuse me.”
Which. Is not at all what Kara expected from her usually empty kitchen. And, caught exceptionally off guard, she nearly falls off her chair. “What the—Lena,” she sputters, righting herself. Unfortunately, the crust of her sandwich is a casualty of the surprise, and she watches as it crumples devastatingly on the floor.
Lena is not half as concerned about the fate of her dinner, and she stalks forward to jab a finger at Kara’s chest. “You confuse me,” she repeats.
Kara blinks. Then blinks again. “Um, okay,” she says. “…why?”
A strange, strangled noise rises from Lena’s mouth, and she appears angrier than Kara has ever seen. (Well, except for that one time that Kara did laundry and flooded the apartment laundromat, which had other pissed off tenants leaving mean messages for two weeks straight). “Because,” angrier-than-usual Lena says, “you do shit like cook food for me and don’t even say anything.”
“What do you want me to say?” Kara frowns, not sure where this conversation is going. “If you want I can start saying ‘Hey Lena, I made dinner’ every time.”
“You and I don’t do dinner,” Lena says, and it sounds like an accusation. “Every time I get off the phone, you decide to leave food outside my door. Why? What on Earth compels you to do that?”
“Because you’re always upset afterwards,” Kara says slowly. “And I thought you could use some cheering up, or at least a drink.”
“Whiskey,” Lena notes. “It’s always whiskey. And it’s never a cheap brand.”
“Well, yeah,” Kara says, gesturing pointedly to Lena’s designer work clothes (that she never seems to be without; Kara’s not sure Lena even owns pajamas). “You would probably accuse me of poisoning you if I gave you anything less.”
Lena narrows her eyes. “You don’t owe me anything,” she says. “So whatever this is, you can stop it.”
“What do you mean, ‘whatever this is’?” Kara repeats incredulously. “I’m just being nice!”
“I never asked you to be ‘nice’!”
Kara exhales, and reminds herself that it is illegal to strangle people. Especially since she is Lena’s roommate, and will therefore be suspect #1. Kara has never been a violent person, but her roommate just manages to test her limits.
“Look,” Kara says patiently, “I give you my sister’s whiskey, and she doesn’t care because she is trying to give up drinking. And I’m not a frequent cook or anything, but I can still throw together a plate because I know you don’t cook at all. That’s it! I don’t have a hidden agenda, or some secret plot here. I’m just being friendly.”
“We are not friends, Kara Danvers,” Lena says. “And I know exactly what this is, even if you refuse to acknowledge it.”
God, what an insufferable—“Okay, know-it-all,” Kara says, instead of the ruder words echoing through her head. “What am I doing?”
Lena’s jaw clenches noticeably. “You pity me,” she accuses. “You look down at my relationship with my family, and—and I don’t want your sympathy, or your stupid food, anymore.”
“If you wanted me to back off, that’s fine,” Kara says, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But I don’t pity you, or feel sorry for you. Heck, with your track record, I’d feel more sympathy for your family. They seem to be on the other end of some nasty phone calls.”
Lena’s expression darkens. “You don’t know my family.”
“I don’t know you very well, either,” Kara retorts, and she turns back to her phone where three new Venmo requests are waiting (two of them well in the thousands range; Nia must think she’s hilarious). “Message received, okay? I’ll leave you alone.”
At first, Kara assumes that's the end of it—assumes that Lena is going to stalk off, and leave a strongly worded post-it on the fridge later that night for Kara to wake up to. That has always been how their relationship works; they fight, reiterate how much they hate living together, and go right back to ignoring each other.
But Lena doesn't walk away. Instead she sighs, and at that unexpected sound Kara looks up just in time to catch Lena frowning. “I—” Lena begins, and then she pauses uncomfortably before getting the words out. “I'm...sorry. I have been having the worst day, and it’s—it’s rude of me to take it out on you.”
“Okay,” says Kara dumbly, because she’s not sure what to respond. Lena never apologizes. Ever. It’s about as rare as, well, Kara actually doing her chores on time. “Thanks?”
Lena bites her lip, glances away. “You’re welcome,” she says stiffly. And this time she leaves—leaves, and abandons the plate of food Kara left her on the edge of the table.
Kara looks down at her phone. There are ten texts waiting from Nia, and about double that of Venmo requests. But she can’t shake the feeling that she is forgetting something, and it’s more than a twenty dollar bill. “Wait,” she blurts out, “Lena. What—what does that mean? You were an asshole to me, and I was an asshole right back, so why are you apologizing?”
“Well, you are more than welcome to apologize too,” Lena says, pausing in the kitchen doorway. She has a quizzical expression on her face, a kind of raw confusion that Kara has never seen before. Without the sharp clenched jaw and the angry eyes, she’s…just a girl. A girl, with a nervous tic of wringing her fingers together. A girl, despite her guarded nature, who is gazing right back at Kara as if she has no right to.
“Do you want me to apologize to you?”
A beat. “Not really,” Lena says. “I don’t—want that. You’re right, you don’t know me. Or my family. We’re nothing to each other, and I can’t expect you to know how complicated my relationship with them is.”
“Still,” Kara says, and she scratches the back of her neck absentmindedly at the sudden flush of guilt that overtakes her. “I am sorry. It was rude of me to, um, say that. Like if your family is a bunch of serial killers, who am I to say you’re worse than that?”
Lena scrunches her nose in a manner that is sort of cute. “Serial killers? Really?”
Kara shrugs—aiming for casual—and really that just looks like attempting nonchalance when suddenly she’s consumed with thoughts about how pretty her roommate is. “Like you said,” she says, “I don’t know your family.”
And, surprisingly, all Lena does is smile. A real smile, the kind that Kara has never witnessed, barely soft and just kind enough. “They’re not,” she says, and unnecessarily clarifies, “serial killers.”
“That you know of,” Kara points out, and Lena’s cautious smile becomes something fuller. That is the only thing that gives Kara the courage to add, “So, now that we have covered the whole you’re not your family thing, are you really not going to have dinner? I cooked tofu for you and everything!”
“You didn’t have to,” Lena argues, because she is defensive to a fault. But she falters immediately after, and sighs again, albeit in a more mellowed tone. “What I meant to say is, I really don’t need you to keep cooking for me. I’m fine.”
“Well what if I want to cook for you?” Kara says, and that is her own fault: she is ready to argue to protect her (noble) intentions. “We don’t have to be friends, if it terrifies you that much—”
“It does not terrify me—”
“—but we can be friendly,” Kara offers, and it’s a testament to her newfound appreciation for her roommate that she manages to even make a sentence. “If you want.”
Lena tilts her head, considering, and this time when she smiles it is curious. “If you knew what I wanted, Kara Danvers,” she says, “your delicate sensibilities would blush to their roots.” And with that odd goodbye, she eventually takes her leave; however, she does take the plate of stir fry with her, so Kara guesses that means they’re on their way to being friendly, if anything.
#remember when quarantine started & i asked for prompts?#yeah u read that right a whole ass year ago?#well. uh. so this is embarrassing but-#supercorp#supergirl#i need a fic tag#proudlyunicorn
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So I was wondering if I could request William from Moriarty. You can choose if you want it to be headcanons or a scenario. I don't mind either. 🥰🥰 But, basically Reader and William are in a relationship. However she has never seen William mad or express a lot of emotions. (Nevertheless he's always been a kind significant other.) So she decides that today she was going to tease him and try to get a rise out of him. Thus she does. Which William at these teases just sort of smirks. (Although there's a dark glint behind his eyes). At the end of the day when Reader and William are about to go to bed, as soon as the door closes.. Reader is in for some "Punishment".
So needless to say it's a but NSFWish. Feel free to decide on any k*nks and things related too! Of course if it makes you uncomfortable feel free to ignore it. 🥰
aHhh finally a spoicy request, i'm surprised the first one i received is for none other than william moriarty. man i just LOVE this show so much. alright enough chit-chat, let's get on with this, shall we?
dom! william james moriarty x bratty/sub! fem reader
warnings: smut, fingering, profanity, oral sex, degradation, consensual sex, & orgasm control
[ established relationship ]
- you and william have been an item for a good 6 months now, you've known each other since both him and louis were still part of the orphanage. you happen to be the silent type, much like his younger brother.
- as a toddler, you've silently observed william and louis from a distance, finding yourself quite interested in whatever they talked about.
- william had always been quite the cunning man and it still holds to this day, 24 years of age without a wrinkle insight. during the times you spent with him as a curious 6 year old, his facade doesn't shift unless his brother is involved.
- over the period that william was out of reach, you happen to go about your own simple life and managed to become a teacher at the local kindergarten. your free period spent around the walls of the orphanage.
- one faithful day, the moriarty brothers paid a surprise visit, offering to shoulder the school fees and monthly allowance. you were beyond grateful and william found himself coming every weekend just to see you.
- he wouldn't miss coming by until he eventually offered you to stay inside their manor. he figured it would save you from the trouble of ticket fees from the village your place used to be. little by little he told you about his plans, afraid you might run away from him.
- but you knew him well enough and nothing would push you away from him.
- william took his time with you, taking you out on proper dates and you enjoyed it. he was nothing but kind, sweet, and respectful towards you. that was until this evening.
- it was all because of your sneaky scheme of trying to get a rise out of him. william had to teach at the university today, you told him that you'll behave yourself and simply pretend like you're one of his students.
- you didn't stay true to your words though. teasing him slightly as you shift in your seat, rubbing your thighs and chewing on your bottom lip. you both held eye contact very well but william kept his attention on everything and everyone else but you.
- to your disappointment, your lover didn't pay you the attention you craved for. not until you finished supper and headed to your respective quarters.
!! nsfw, 18+ !!
" you look disappointed, my darling. have i done something wrong? " william whispers softly as he held you from behind, one arm around your waist as the other caresses your neck. you can feel him smirk as he trails open-mouthed kisses unto the exposed skin of your back. hearing your sweet little whimpers made him sigh as your clothed ass rubs against his hardened cock. a deep chuckle follows as he guides your body to face him, hands tangled with the laces that held your dress perfectly tight against the curves of your body.
you look up at him through your lust-blown eyes and heavy eyelids, pleading him to touch every part of your body for the relief you've been aching for. he presses a kiss on your cheek, whispering reassurances as he rids you of your clothes. once your dress falls off to the ground, his hands found your body. warm hands in contrast to that of the cold sea breeze from the small gaps on the windows. your hands found his cheeks as he slipped his tongue between your lips, sucking and tasting every bit of your mouth. yes it was sloppy but every movement of his ignited the warmth inside your chest and your dripping cunt.
" Liam, please. " you begged through your pants, pulling his hand to slip inside your soaked panties. a moan escapes his and your lips as two of his fingers easily slipped inside your pulsating lips. you've never seen william with a creased forehead and ragged breathing. he looked so hot with sweat dripping down his forehead. his eyes finally met yours, but the glint of his eyes were feral and angry. " Look at you begging like a pathetic little bitch. I would have never imagined that a sweet girl like you could beg this desperately. Huh? What was that --- fuck! Look at you choke on your own words. Be a good girl and keep those moans to yourself. " you bit down on your lip as william began slamming his fingers into your wet pussy. those words coming from his mouth sent you close to your orgasm. but you want to be his good girls so you held both your moans and your climax.
he watches as you squirm and held unto his arm as he curls his fingers, hitting just the right spot to push you over the edge. his red eyes peering over your pathetic irises as he mercilessly pull his fingers all the way out. the grin on his face made you tremble with arousal. " Go on doll, tell me what you want me to do. "
" Please sir, make me cum on your fingers. "
william smirks at your words, satisfied with the response you gave him, he bent down and licked at your throbbing clit before pushing his fingers back in. " Go on princess, beg for me. " you screamed for his mercy, wanting to reach your climax like the greedy woman you are. his fingers curled, reaching the sensitive flesh as he peppered small kisses unto your glistening cunt. only pulling away as your juices coated his hand. he chuckles, soothing your quivering thighs as he pushed his digits into your mouth. " Clean them up for me, my love. I'm not done with you just yet. "
well that was quite... 👀🤌 something. anyway it's my first timing posting, let alone finish a proper smut scene. let me know if i missed any warnings and i sincerely apologize for any mistakes grammar & spelling wise. i want to post at least more than twice a week so i'll work on my other requests in the morning. i hope you guys liked it! feel free to send in your requests and comment down any suggestions and creative criticism. i would love to work on my writing for both you guys & myself. ♡ have good day/night!
#moriarty the patriot headcanons#william moriarty#william moriarty x reader#william moriarty smut#william james moriarty#william james moriarty x reader#yuukoku no moriarty#william james moriarty smut#🌸☁️works
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Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 3)
i did not expect this to turn into more than just a oneshot, but here i am, posting a part 3?? and there’s more to come??? lmao, im a mess, having a million wips at a time, whatever. enjoy this DIRTY piece in the world of Harry and Actress!Y/N hehe!
pairing: Harry x actress!reader
word count: 3k
warning: NSFW content (we are taking a dirty turn in this part babes)
SERIES MASTERPOST
masterlist
“But are you really sure you’re fine?” Florence asks for the millionth time over the phone. “You know, I could come over anytime, have a few drinks and forget about the idiots who decided you don’t deserve that Emmy.”
“I’m very sure,” you chuckle, sinking further down on your couch, kicking your heels off your feet. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Oh it is, but you are trying to act all tough, though I know it bothers you.”
“I didn’t say it doesn’t bother me, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” you tell her truthfully.
“You know, sometimes I forget that you are this wise ass bitch, not some petty loser that I usually am.”
You snort at her words laughing loudly. Florence is by far one of the funniest people you know, she never fails to make you laugh, no matter what’s the situation.
“It’s sad that I didn’t win, but I’m fine. Really. Maybe next time it will be me,” you say, genuinely hoping this wasn’t your first nomination.
“Okay, I’ll stop bugging you, but call me if you change your mind and want company.”
“Thank you, Flo. Talk to you later.”
Once you end the call you let a long, heavy breath out that feels like you’ve been keeping in all night. Walking into your closet you stop in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, taking a look at yourself, still wearing the burgundy pant suit you wore for the award show. You were the only woman in pants all evening and you felt more powerful than ever. You’ve always loved to make a statement with your fashion choices and tonight you feel like you definitely succeeded in getting the message through: you are a bad bitch.
Stripping out of the outfit you hang it carefully before putting on some sweats and an oversized vintage t-shirt, feeling so much more comfortable already. Your hair is still in loose waves and you kind of like the texture, so you just leave it like that, moving into your bedroom to check up on some emails.
Cozied up under your duvet, laptop resting on your thighs, you start replying to some emails, updating your schedule for the next week. You almost don’t notice the text you get, barely catching the lit up screen from the corner of your eyes. Grabbing the device from the night stand you smile down at the series of messages from Harry.
“Bunch of idiots,” the first one reads.
“I’m suing them. All of them.”
“You looked fucking unreal by the way. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Biting down on your bottom lip you read the last one over and over again. It’s been weeks since your number landed in Harry’s phone and you’ve been texting nonstop since then. Whenever you pulled your phone out to check if someone had tried to reach you, there was always a text rom him waiting for you, making you smile most of the time.
“Thanks Xx,” you reply shortly, not sure how to react to his heated words of calling the whole Television Academy a bunch of idiots, though it surely warmed your heart.
“Enjoying the after party?” his next text comes fast.
“Nope, I’m home already. Didn’t feel like partying.”
“What?! You not winning is not an excuse to skip celebrating. You still got nominated!”
“Already celebrated that, so I’m out of occasions.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Text me your address, I’m going over with wine and takeout.”
His bluntness in flirting and shooting his shot has been amusing to you since the moment he sat next to you on The Ellen Show. Harry Styles doesn’t shy away to try and show his attraction, or at least not towards you.
You hesitate a little, not sure if you want him here, but something deep down in your guts is telling you that you definitely want him to come over, some dirty thoughts already popping into your mind, but you are quick to get rid of them.
You send him your address and he tells you he’ll be over in twenty. You use that time to clean up a little around your apartment. You left in kind of a rush earlier, being a little late with your glam team, so you didn’t bother to leave the place in a decent state. It doesn’t take long though to clean up the mess and checking the time you see that you still have a little time until Harry arrives. As you walk past one of the mirrors in your hallway, you take a look at yourself, debating whether you should change or stay in your comfy homey outfit. At last you drop the idea to put on a different outfit, not wanting to look desperate when Harry arrives.
Not long later you get a notification from downstairs that a so called Mr. Styles has entered the building and is heading up to your floor. Running a hand through your hair you walk over to the front door and opening it you stand there, waiting for the elevator to arrive. When the familiar ding hits your ear you notice how your heart skips a beat upon seeing him walk out.
“Hi,” you smile at him holding the door open for him. He looks amazing, as always, wearing a pair of brown high-waisted pants with a loose white shirt tugged into it, a teal denim jacket topping the outfit. He looks comfortable, but still well put together, something you have always admired in his style.
“Hello, Love,” he smiles back at you and pulls you in for a short, one armed hug before walking fully inside. “Didn’t know what stuff you fancy, so I got a bunch,” he admits with a chuckle, holding up two plastic bags completely stuffed.
“You really shouldn’t have,” you shake your head at him smiling as you lock the front door and lead him into your open concept kitchen.
“But I should have,” he argues, setting the bags down to the counter, packing out everything he brought.
Three bottles of wine, all of them different kinds, snacks, both sweet and salty, topped with an insane amount of Chinese takeout that could feed a whole family, not just two people. You put the wines into the fridge though you know they won’t get chilly enough by the time you open it. Turning to Harry you smile at him shyly, only just now realizing that he is in your home for the first time.
“Want a tour?” you ask, pulling your shoulders up to your ears.
“Would love that,” he smirks and lets you lead the way.
The modern apartment in Manhattan has been your home for a little over a year now. One of the first things you invested into once you started earning like an A-list celebrity. It’s spacious, you did the interior over once you bought it, formed it a little more to your taste. You walk Harry through the living room, the three bedrooms from which one is yours, the others function as a guest room whenever a family member of one of your friends needs a place to stay. There are three bathrooms in total, a study room that’s always a mess, your desk filled with scripts and books most of the time, but Harry tells you it suits your vibe.
“And this here is my wardrobe,” you end the tour, flicking the lights on in the walk in closet, probably your favorite part of the place. It’s bigger than your bedroom, but it’s exactly what you and your passion for fashion needs.
Harry curiously walks inside, his eyes immediately stopping on the burgundy pant suit you wore earlier that night.
“This, Darling, was an excellent choice,” he smirks over at you, his fingers dancing over the soft fabric of the pants.
“Felt amazing in it,” you nod smiling.
“I bet you did,” he chuckles softly.
The two of you head back to the kitchen and sit at the kitchen island, roaming through all the food Harry has brought. A short silence comes over the room that’s broken by Harry first.
“So how are you really feeling about tonight?”
“I’m fine,” you shrug, but then feel his hand on your knee that’s closer to him and your eyes flicker over to him, his gaze burning down on you intently.
“No, I’m asking fo’ real. You don’t have to mask your disappointment.”
Licking your lips you look back at your plate filled with dumplings and you start to just poke them around with the chopsticks in your hand.
“Of course I’m disappointed. Who wouldn’t want to win? But there’s not much I can do about it, right?”
“Still, you shouldn’t push it all down.”
“I’m not the type to rage very publicly, if you haven’t realized that,” you chuckle, diverting your eyes back at him, catching a soft smile on his lips.
“That I know of. Miss No Beef,” he teases you, even though you could pretty much say the same thing about him. “I was properly screaming at the screen when they said someone else’s name over yours.”
“Yeah?” you chuckle.
“Mhm. I was rooting for you big time.”
“Well,” you sigh turning back to your plate. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Nah-ah, none of that crap, Y/N,” he protests right away, dropping his chopsticks to his plate as he slides off his stool, stepping closer to you, one hand lying flat on the counter, while the other one finds the underside of your stool and he easily turns you so you are facing him, your knees involuntarily parting so he could stand between them. “I’m not letting you think of any less of yourself because of some stupid award.”
“The Emmys are not stupid,” you correct him, but it seems like he doesn’t even hear you, staring down at you with a smug grin, his hand moving from the stool to your waist.
“Mhm, they are. They made the most talented and beautiful woman think she is not the best of all.”
You can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips as you watch him slowly lean closer. Heart beating faster, you let him do whatever he has on his mind, not finding the will to push him away. Not that you want to do that, you’d be stupid to say no to this man.
“Who’s this woman we are talking about?” you breathe out with a teasing smile. Harry smirks back at you, his hand squeezing your waist gently as his other hand moves up to the base of your neck, his thumb running along your jawline.
“The woman I’ve been fantasizing about lately.”
A desperate whimper tries to escape your lips, but you bite it back in time, feeling so lost how much effect he has on you with just a simple sentence.
“What are these fantasies about?” you find yourself asking as he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours.
You’re aching for his lips, to feel him touch you everywhere. You want to come undone under his hands and the breaking point where you won’t be able to mask up your desperate feelings is threateningly close.
“I’ve been thinking about making her feel real good. Watch her fall apart under my touch,” he murmurs lowly and this time, you can’t hold that moan back. Your lips brush against his, but he pulls back smirking, not kissing you.
“Fuck,” you breathe out when you feel his hand move from your waist to your stomach, cheekily teasing you as he is drawing circles around your belly button over the soft fabric of your shirt.
“Can I touch you, Y/N? I really want to make you feel appreciated and good. Will you let me do that?”
Not able to find your voice you whimper out something that’s close to being a yes, but it’s not enough for him and while you are losing touch with what’s really going on, Harry is very much enjoying seeing you like this, all for himself.
“Use your words, Love. I wanna hear you say it.”
“Yes!” you choke out and luckily, he doesn’t waste any more time.
You feel his lips connect with your neck as both his hands work on the waistband of your sweats, pushing them further down a little before his right hand taps on the top of your lacy underwear, the one you wore under your suit tonight, the one Harry definitely thought about when he first saw you through his screen.
You gasp when his hand slides into your underwear, fingers finding your sensitive bud of nerves, pressing down on them softly. You desperately turn your face, eager to meet his lips, but he pulls back for your dismay.
“Not now, Love,” he tells you and though the words sting a little, you don’t have much time to dwell on them when you feel his fingers slide back and forth between your soaking wet folds. “So wet for me, aren’t you?” he smirks while you’re trying to breath evenly, though it’s quite the challenge.
His lips return to your neck and your hands fly up to grab onto the back of his neck and shoulders, his fingers teasing you around your hole, not entering just yet. You start buckling your hips, desperate to get him take the next step and he is surely enjoying the show you are putting on for him.
“Ready to feel good?”
“Yes,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hair roughly and a loud moan escapes your lips when he pushes two of his fingers inside you.
“Fuck, this feels so nice,” he groans, lips nipping on the soft skin under your ear. He is quick to take up on a pace, moving his digits in and out, his thumb circling on your clit, adding that extra magic most men always forget about. But not Harry, he is eager to please you the best he can and if you weren’t sitting, you’d be on your knees for him by now.
“Yeah, tug on my hair, Darling,” he growls, his voice sending chills down your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair just as he asked, while you feel your climax building up.
He picks up his pace, curling his fingers inside you every time he thrusts them in, making you almost see stars. Your legs fly around his waist, ankles crossing above his bum as you bring him closer, and a whimpered groan bursts out of him, probably because his erection just got squeezed against his hand by your action, his nonstop moving hand now stuck between your heated core and his throbbing member. When his head pulls back you quickly look at him, about to ask if he is alright, but he just presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as his unsaid answer that he is perfectly fine.
His forehead comes to rest against yours as he adds a third finger, making you moan his name in ecstasy. Your mind is starting to completely shut down, the sensation of utter pleasure taking over your whole body as you can feel your orgasm just a few thrusts away.
“C’mon, Love. Let it go for me,” he mumbles, his free hand sliding to your back so he keeps you flushed against him, your heaving chest touching his upper body with each drawn breath.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” you pant, eyes screwed shut, tipping over the edge of your climax. “Please don’t stop!” you beg whining.
“Never, Darling.”
And he keeps his words. He keeps going and going until your walls close up around his slick fingers and your thighs tremble around his waist. You tug on his hair once again, pulling his head back just enough so your eyes meet right when you come undone. His fingers keep moving a little longer, bringing you down from your high before the last wave of your orgasm dies down and you are brought back to reality.
When his fingers slide out of you, the feeling of emptiness makes you breathe out in dismay and it brings a smile to his lips as he licks his fingers clean and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watch him taste your pleasure on his own fingers.
Glancing down you see the very visible bulge in his pants and you reach down to return the favor you just had the pleasure to get, but his hands wrap around your wrists stopping you, your eyes snapping up to meet his.
“Not now, Love. This was all about you. I’ll be fine.”
“But—“
“No,” he cuts you off shaking his head gently. “Seeing you like this was more than enough for me.”
Biting down on your bottom lip you feel yourself blushing at his words, the whole situation that just went down dawning on you just now. Harry really did just finger you on one of your kitchen stools and it was one hell of an experience for sure.
When your gaze wanders over to his lips you remember how he refused to kiss you and now you actually have the chance to pay more attention to this tiny detail.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you ask him, legs falling from his waist as he goes to sit back on his stool. He glances at you, a soft smile on the lips that never touched yours.
“I wasn’t planning to do this, but I just couldn’t stop myself. However, I’m still trying to be a gentleman, so I won’t kiss you until I’ve taken you out on a proper date.”
“I can’t believe you,” you chuckle shaking your head at the absurdity of what he just said. “So you are fine fingering me shamelessly, but you won’t kiss me without a date?” you ask, rephrasing his words.
“That’s right,” he nods, his smile growing into a smirk now. Shaking your head you turn back to your probably cold plate of food, chuckling to yourself.
“Harry Styles, you are… something else.”
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#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles never have i ever#harry styles series#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles x actress!reader
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Dalonte “DALY” Dennis: (TEK)
***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***
Daly shook his head listening to his sisters go back and forth about dumb shit. It seemed like they always waited until he came around to bring up niggas. He never intruded on their personal lives because he’d instilled enough in them to know what to do and what not to do. He had been on his own with them since he could remember. Daly was only ten years old roaming the streets looking for food to feed them. Life didn’t give him much of a choice to live another way. His mother left everything up to him, so he had to do anything to survive. At first it was just he and TJ, then two more girls came, and his mother literally dropped them off home to him. Daly cared for infants alone being just a baby himself.
They were on their way to the airport to pick up the baby of the three, Erie. She went away to college four years ago and this would be her first time back in Philly since graduating. They visited her a lot, but they were all happy to have her in the same state as them again. He was so proud of Erie for sticking it out and finishing college. At first, she would beg to come home. She even threatened to drop out several times. Daly spoiled Erie the most so during each one of her breakdowns he flew to Atlanta where she attended Spelman to talk her down.
All three of his sisters even being raised by him like straight niggas turned out to be great women despite their foul ass mouths and no-nonsense ass attitudes. People always said how pretty they were until witnessing one of them in action. Daly was a cool brother to have but he sometimes was too hard on himself thinking he could’ve done better with them and their emotions. He didn’t know how to raise children let alone girls but over the years he learned so much about women, more than he actually wanted to know.
TJ was the oldest and she owned a popular hair salon. She was the wildest and most outspoken. Daly had to bail her out of jail several times, primarily for domestic disputes with her lovers. She was openly bisexual and came out to him when she was sixteen, saying if Daly didn’t accept her for who she was, he could kiss her ass. Of course, no matter what he loved his sister. TJ was five-eight, with tan skin covered by tattoos. She had them everywhere. None of them knew their fathers and Daly assumed she was biracial off her features and TJ didn’t like that. So, the long curly black hair she once had as a girl which made her ambiguity more apparent was shaved off and she chose to wear all types of colorful wigs. She was beautiful either way with her natural hunter green eyes and freckled rosy cheeks. Despite her lifestyle and appearance, TJ went to church a lot. She’d been that way since she was just a child. Always telling Daly she had them all covered on the prayer tip, so they were good. She believed the Lord protected her big brother the many nights he had to go out and do what needed to be done for them. TJ had a huge and loving heart she just didn’t have the patience for bullshit.
Ta’Kia, whom everyone simply called Kia was the calmest when considering the three of them. She didn’t bother anyone unless they bothered her. It was a different story if she knew you though, you wouldn’t be able to shut her ass up. She went to college in state at West Chester where she met her white boyfriend that she stressed out regularly. Kia was also fair skin and four-eleven of feistiness. Daly knew whoever her father was had to be black. She had 4C hair and to him that meant straight nigga. He learned all about the different types of hair black women had over the years. He didn’t assume they couldn’t have loose coils in general, but his sister came from nigga nuts with the shit that sat on top of her head. Kia kept it in all types of natural styles. She was the earthy vegan type. No man-made chemicals could touch her person and she only ate what she grew. She wore very little clothing often, even when it was cold with beads around her waist, lots of rings on her fingers and she had two nose rings and a septum. Daly didn’t know where the hell that aesthetic came from but again, he supported his sisters through whatever.
Then there was Erieon, Erie for short, Daly’s baby. TJ and Kia didn’t give into her spoiled ass the way he did. If you asked them, their little sister was selfish, stubborn and plain old evil. Erie had a bad attitude, worse than all of three put together and never liked to admit when she was wrong. The only person she didn’t get out the way with was Daly. Erie was the surprise baby and the most beautiful little dark doll he’d ever seen when his mother first dropped her off. He fell in love with her the moment he had to take her on. By then he’d become an expert at caring for infants. Erie stood out because amongst her sisters she shined like chocolate satin. While her sisters rocked baldies and bushes, Erie loved box braids, and any other type of style that hung pass her butt in individuals. Everything about her was gorgeous. She was the most regular physically but personality wise, Daly had a time with that one. Sometimes he thought she had some mental health issues but seeing Lake go through so much and learning what he could, he swore his sister wasn’t that damaged. Couldn’t be. He simply gave her whatever she wanted and hoped it never went further than having temper tantrums.
When Daly was just a child, if it weren’t for Hassan, he and his sisters would be separated and spread out through the system. It was one of the reasons Daly was so loyal to Lake. Hassan made sure they never had to worry about being taken from one another. The house they lived in, he bought it and fixed it up. They had food and clean clothes every day. When his mother would try to come and interrupt the peace they finally had, Hassan made sure she didn’t any longer. Whatever bad shit people had to say about the late Hassan Porter, he and his sisters were blinded by the fact that he was the only adult to give a fuck about them. Even his mother’s sister didn’t offer a helping hand when she knew how they were living. Hassan didn’t ask any questions or want any answers. He saw a problem and fixed it. Never made Daly feel ashamed or embarrassed either.
Once at the busy airport, they didn’t even have to park to meet Erie inside. She was sitting outside on her luggage with an obvious attitude.
“Here her ass go with the bullshit,” Kia said getting out the car. She hugged her resistant baby sister while Daly kissed her cheek before getting her stuff. TJ didn’t even get out the car because she was the least interested in what had her mean ass mad already.
“What’s wrong, Erieon?” Daly asked once they were all back in the car.
“Nothing.”
“Erie! Stop bein’ a fuckin’ brat!” TJ turned around to her sister who was in the back seat now with her arms crossed and face balled up. “You always do that like somebody supposed to know what you thinkin’.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Erie, what’s wrong?” Daly asked her in a gentle tone making TJ and Kia roll their eyes.
“The flight was just annoying. I don’t like being around people.”
“I’m sure people don’t like being around your evil ass either,” TJ said. “I’ma pray for you on Sunday demon.” She held the cross around her neck then pulled out a little bottle and splashed Erie.
“Don’t put that saltwater on me!”
“You need Jesus!”
“TJ, stop,” Kia laughed. “Stay sprinkling people with your lil holy water.”
“She think cause she got baptized that she still not going to hell,” Erie said, wiping her face. “Newsflash, you eat pussy, that’s a sin!”
“Yo!” Daly yelled. “I don’t wanna hear that shit. All y’all shut the fuck up!”
Why did he say that? All hell broke loose. They started shouting obscenities his way and he blew his breath wishing he went alone to begin with. Daly loved his sisters to absolute death, but they were a damn handful. How anybody dated one was beyond him. Man or woman.
“Wit your big head ass!” TJ mushed him. “Don’t be talkin’ to us like that!”
“I’m stayin’ with you TJ,” Erie said. They were the two who got along the least, but her sister was the most freeing to be around and let her do anything. Even though she was going on twenty-three, Kia and Daly treated her like a baby.
“Then you better act like you know, I ain’t for the walkin’ around my shit with no attitude! And I don’t clean up after grown muhfuckas.”
“Why you don’t want your own shit?” Daly asked.
“Because I don’t wanna be alone,” Erie said low. “TJ lays with me when I need her.”
“I can lay with you,” Daly said.
“You never be home.”
Erie saying that made Daly feel bad. If he wasn’t there often it’s because he couldn’t be and when he wasn’t, they had to take care of each other. They didn’t intentionally make him feel bad about it, they simply were dealt a shitty hand. No mother and their brother couldn’t be around due to the fact that he was the provider. It all affected each of them in different ways.
“I lay with you too.”
“Kia, your bed bout as big as this back seat. Then you like to sleep on the floor,” Erie said, and they all started laughing.
Daly gave his sisters the range to live much more extravagant, but Kia didn’t want to. She liked her open space loft, mattress on the floor, no curtains, plants from wall to windows, three pairs of shoes and garden full of natural foods. TJ wanted to work for her own money, so she started a business. Erie was the only one who happily ran through his pockets like no tomorrow. He was okay with him being their backup plan if they ever needed or wanted it.
“Says the homeless one,” Kia rolled her eyes.
“By choice,” Erie retorted.
After Daly took his sisters out then dropped them all off, he stopped at his old apartment. His phone was ringing off the hook and the only calls he returned were Lake, Wreck and Roddy. Mansion called him about fifty times. When those went unanswered, the texts started.
Mansion: I know you with another bitch, since you wanna ignore me for her. Stay there, and don’t call me ever again with your hoe ass!
Mansion: Bitch ass nigga! You really wanna cheat on me? And I bet she don’t look like shit!
Mansion: I was fuckin’ somebody else anyway!
Mansion: I’m gettin’ a abortion!
Daly ignored each one. Mansion would say anything to get him to argue with her. At first it was funny, but now, he was a little tired of the constant back and forth. It was childish but that’s what he got for messing with a twenty-one-year-old.
“What?” he asked, finally answering for her.
“Put your bitch on the phone.”
“I ain’t wit no bitch.”
“Right, you a hoe ass liar! Come get me right now.”
“Fuck no! Go tell the nigga you was fuckin’ to get your crazy ass.”
“I was just sayin’ that,” Mansion whined. “I love you.”
“Obviously,” Daly responded sarcastically and they both started laughing. “You gotta chill bro.”
“My anger just get the best of me, you know I would never step out on you.”
“I’m not comin’ tonight, I got shit to do.”
“Like what?”
“Shit.”
“You lyin’.”
“When the fuck do I ever have to lie? If I’ma be with another bitch, I would tell you.”
“See that’s what I’m talkin’ bout, the disrespect! I’m not about to let you play in my face with no ugly ass hoe!”
“Who ugly, Mansion?”
“SHADIA!” she screamed, and Daly hollered. His on again off again girlfriend for years grinded Mansion’s gears. “You need to tell that dog face bitch you love me and it’s over.”
“I told her that.”
“Then why she still feel comfortable to go around talkin’ about my nigga? Why THE FUCK is she postin’ you on her Instagram?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know because you keep givin’ that hoe hope!”
“Ion give nobody shit,” Daly looked at his phone beeping. “Hold on, I’ma call you right back.” He didn’t wait for a response to click over for his sister. “Yea TJ?”
“Come get Erie before I fuck her up!”
“What she do that damn fast?”
“I comes the fuck in my room and her ass changin’ shit around in MY HOUSE!”
“You got it ugly in here!” he heard Erie yell in the back. “Everything don’t gotta be green!”
“DALONTE!” TJ shouted. “Come get your sister! NOW! Jesus be a high ass fence for Erieon…” she started her prayer for forgiveness then Daly heard a bunch of ruckus. He hung up on everybody tired of dealing with women for one day. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet. He got all the bags out of his trunk and went inside the apartment building.
When he put his key in the door Tracy was standing right there with an attitude. Out of all the bitch fits, he was least interested in hers. He didn’t tell his sisters about their mother staying there and that’s why he moved because it would upset them. TJ mostly. She hated Tracy to no ending.
“The fuck you standing there for waitin’ like you caught me cheatin’ or something?”
“Because you leave me in this place, alone! I ain’t got no phone, no communication to the outside world—”
“Man, fuck outta here,” Daly said, closing the door. “You lucky you got this.”
“I want to see my children, Dalonte!”
“They don’t wanna see you.”
Daly’s mother was a rehabilitated crackhead and ex-prostitute. He wouldn’t have offered her a place to stay but she was currently pregnant and had the nerve to tell him she wanted to do right for her baby.
“Well it ain’t they choice, y’all is muthafuckin’ kids to me! I don’t care what we been through! I am your mother!”
“You ain’t shit, Tracy.” Daly took all the bags in the kitchen. “Here, all the shit you wanted. Fuckin’ prenatal vitamins,” he threw them at her. “I know your ass ain’t do none of this shit with us! You want my sisters to see this shit?” He started pouring all the stuff out. “You got it in you to finally care about one of your kids.”
“He is y’all little brother,” Tracy said, palming her stomach with tears in her eyes. Her oldest child hated her so she knew it couldn’t have been any better with the other three but not seeing them for so long hurt her heart. When she came to him, he didn’t even care at first. They owed her nothing and as a mother Tracy wished she could take every ounce of pain she caused them back.
“I almost said fuck him too,” Daly laughed, and Tracy smiled. Her son loved her; she knew this because he could be really cold when he wanted to be. There had been times she’d been on the other end of it.
“I’m sorry for putting all of this on you, if I had another option, I would’ve chosen it. I know it’s not easy seeing me like this,” Tracy expressed to her son sincerely.
“Whatever, I’m out, I gotta go break up a fight between your kids.”
“Can you at least tell them I miss them?”
“I’ll think about it.” Daly closed the door in her face. He stood with his back against the door feeling the way he did when he was younger. So many times, she would even watch him struggle with his sisters. Tracy would be home while he was trying to figure out a way to provide for them. Here she was pregnant again with another baby and needed her son all over again. Déjà vu.
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28 - prove it.
Previous chapter pry on the weak (m).
m.list.
warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.
author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.
Panicked footsteps echos over the empty hallway walls, moving closer to you.
“sera..”
It’s jaemin, his voice is unmistakable.
He crouches down in front of you, you don’t at him, “you ok? What happened?” His voices comes out shaky, maybe it’s guilt.
Your vision blurs with angry tears, his question infuriating you.
you snap when his hands touch you.. “where the hell were you?” the loaded words cut through your throat, he flinch back when you look at him..
His jacket in his hand, the once neat white button down is now torn open missing a button or two, half of it hanging outside of his trousers. His slicked back hair is now a mess, lipstick stains on the side of his neck, he reeks with a feminine perfume mixed with alcohol.. he stutters unable to speak, adding to your rage.
You stand to your feet, refusing his help, your arms warping around yourself “just open the door..” you mutter insults under your breath while wiping your tears strained checks, he press in the code and let you walk in first keeping his head down..
Once your both inside and the door is closed he calls you,
“Sera wait” he grab your arm, his hold on you is anything but firm.
“No! You left me.. you were with some other girl while I was ..” the word died in your chest leaving a bitter taste in the back of your throat, a new wave of anger washing over it.
you look down at yourself.. you cry harder, you felt sorry for yourself. he steps closer to you and dares to attempt to hug you, you push him as hard as you can, “you son of a bitch..” You throw one your shoes at him and miss due to your unclear vision..
“ooh my god you’er being crazy now!” He tries to duck down when you throw the other pair at him and you mange to hit him in the stomach, he grunts in pain.
You launch at him, punching, slapping, scratching whatever you hands can reach of him “was she worth it? Was she better?”,
“stop!” His loud voice would have scared you before, but not anymore. he mange to restrain your hands and shake you but you still keep going if not with your hands then with your mouth, you shout every curse word you know..
His eyebrow knot at your meltdown ”stop!’ he shakes you “Who did this? Who was it?” his hands squeezing hard around your wrists almost snapping them, you wince in pain “you’er hurting me! Asshole” you try to kick his leg to free your arms bur he stays unaffected, “tell me who was it?” growls, his face is turning red, veins bulging around his neck.
“oh so now you care? Fuck you!” you retort back. still feeling betrayed, you lean closer into with all the hurt and the anger you seethe “Go back to her” ..
Sudden silence falls upon you, you tow stand in each other’s face in the a the dark living room that was only lighted by the dimmed city lights, too stubborn to backdown the tension rises as angry pantings coming out of both of you while the muffled music of the soaring party plays in the background.
His hold on your arms loosens as they fall to your sides. a wise person would move away but you don’t, you still stare into his eyes with all the hatred and disgust you feel for him right now, he doesn’t look away as well, his hot breathes fan over your face..
He steps even closer, his lips almost grazing yours, his hands come to sit on his hips in a challenging stance, obviously ticked off, he shifts his weight to one foot before he speaks, “stop being a crazy jealous whore and tell me who did it?”.
a cynical smile tugs on your lips, “ a crazy jealous whore?” You repeat after him, arms crossing in front of you, not showing any signs of backing down.
You would have missed the way his eyes squinted if you weren’t that close to him, his eyes scan your face before he speaks again “Unless you wanted it.. “ you were not expecting him to step this low, the accusationary tone catching you off guard.
You can’t tell if he was being serious or he’s saying it to despise you.. non the less, it still cuts deep, deeper than any physical harm you are suffering from, thus rendering you speechless.
He continue, “Walking around like a slut in that skimpy outfit, what were expecting huh?” his voice rising with each word, his confidence was being fulled by your hurt that was showing your face.
He take one last jab at you, “you probably enjoyed it too” he scuffs and turns around, you stand frozen in your place.
As soon as you regained your ability to breath you fire back with a broken voice, “is that all you got? Quite the a man you are.. a crowd” your heart shatters and you can’t help the pathetic sob from erupting out of you, it seems to have an effect on him as he stops in his place couple of steps away from you.
“ I loved you but you’er not worth it” you don’t mean it but you force it out of you, as loud and clear as you can,” go back to your sluts that’s where you belong”.
He turns to look at you, a shiver runs down your spine,
“you loved me?” The sarcasm is evident in his voice, although he’s calmer now he’s scaring you.
He comes closer to you, you wipe your tears to clear your vision and sniffle, embracing yourself for what’s about to come, his arm reach to your face, you tried to move away but he was faster, his hand clawing your jaw, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your checks, yanking you closer to him, “you loved me?” He repeats your words to himself.
your hands desperately wrap around his arm trying ease his hold on your face. “lair” he whispers, the subtle hurt in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, your heart beats so loud to the point where he could hear it too.
“you are all talk baby” he exhales out a deep breath he was holding.
you swallow the tight knot in your throat and mange a small “no..”, fresh hot tears filling your eyes as you drown in his sad brown orbs.. “I do.. I love you”.
“Prove it” he challenges you.. prove it? How would you prove love to someone? Someone who’s far beyond broken?
You hesitate to speak, baffled by his request, he sense it and in disappointment he withdraw his hand, ignoring your attempts to hold his hand, he looks away. you panic feeling like he was slipping out of your grip.
“Jaemin .. please”,
but he turns away shaking his head “get yourself clean up sera, i’ll be back” he walks out the door slamming it shut ending the intense shouting match, somehow you felt at loss, he walked out the door taking a piece of your hat with him.
Dreadful fear sets in, the world starts to crumble around you.
When he comes back less than a hour later, he calls for you but no response. He walks towards his room looking for you but a whimper catches his attention, he gasp when he sees you on the kitchen floor with a knife in your hand, he runs to you taking the sharp object out of your hand, you don’t fight him, since you were done with it.
He shudders when he sees the blood leaking out the self inflicted wounds, his names carved on your left thigh.
“What have you done?” He shout at you but this time it has no anger behind it, the knife drops to the floor as he jumps and brings the kitchen towels roll, he starts ripping them and pressing them your wound to stop the blood loss.
“why did you do it?” He asks again, his voice’s breaking, you keep your head down your body swaying back in forth in silent grief.
He asked you to prove it..
He checks your wounds, he sigh wit relief and thank the gods when he sees them superficial.
You didn’t notice before but he’s crying, he wipes his nose with his sleeve and pulls you to his chest, he wraps his arms around you tightly holding you like he was trying to glue you back together.
“don’t ever do that to yourself ever again”
“I’m sorry” you pat his back trying to reassure him.
He pulls you away just enough to look at you, he cradles your head in his hands, “no no baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it. I was being a jerk to you Im sorry, forgive me” his thumbs wiping your tears away, he kisses your face multiple times while whispering love confessions to you, “I love you, I love you”.
He brings you back into the safety of his chest, you lean your head onto his shoulder nuzzling his neck, finding solace in his arms.
“whoever did this to you will pay, I promise you”
#nct dream#nct yandere#nct mafia#nct angst#nct smut#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct jaemin#na jaemin#nct reactions
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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader) Pt. 3
Fandom: Resident Evil: Village
Rating: T for blood/violence and language
Genre: Action with a lil bit of fluff
Warnings: Lil bit of blood
Notes: There's an unnamed character in here who may or may not end up as recurring in my stories. I don't really have anything in particular planned for her, she's kinda just here to fill a role/allow for some easter egg type shit in the next chapter.
Previous Chapters: Pt. 1, Pt. 2
{Wounded Love 3: Bloody Valentine (No, not that Valentine)}
“Mother Miranda, I must insist, if these lycans stray any further they might start feasting on the village as well! Pray tell, who will you use for research then? We can’t just-... Forgive me… Mhmm. Yes, I understand. Of course… Have a good night, Mother Miranda,” Lady Dimitrescu said, before setting her phone down with a loud thunk. Her hands shake a little, and for a moment you worry that her vanity won’t survive the coming moments. Then you make eye contact with her reflection, giving her an encouraging smile, watching as her gaze softens. “I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do, my dear. I cannot allow Heisenberg’s negligence to go unpunished, but we will have to take care of it on our own, without Mother Miranda’s support.”
“Is that wise, love? To go behind her back like this? I can’t imagine she’ll be terribly pleased if we cause chaos for one of her favored few,” you replied, clicking your tongue as you thought things over. Again you see anger cloud Alcina’s face, though she makes sure not to direct it at you.
“We are not the ones who started this mess,” she reminded you, through clenched teeth. “But we will be the ones to end it, one way or another. I don’t care if I have to gut that wretched man-thing and bring Miranda his corpse as proof of his incompetence! He has shown his lack of loyalty hundreds of times… and now he will pay.” Gulping, you rise to your feet, wanting to comfort your girlfriend. While you had understood that your injury angered her, you hadn’t (until this moment) realized the sheer intensity of that rage. How much blood would be shed before this was over?...
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Crimson drips down the beast’s side, across matted fur, before hitting the wooden floor. A stench as awful as you had ever found filled the air, only made tolerable by the nearby presence of scented candles. What a mess, you think, glad that you wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. Why had the girls insisted on bringing the damn thing inside? Couldn’t they have simply snatched a few teeth from its jaw as a prize? Somehow you doubted that the thought had even crossed their minds. Violence was a passion of theirs, and they preferred their trophies to be as large as the effort they put into getting it.
“How close to the path did you find it?” You asked after finishing your examination of the lycan. Next to you, the eldest daughter is rapidly taking notes in a leather-bound journal. Both of her siblings stand near the fireplace, hands held out next to the flames, needing to warm up after being outside for so long. It wasn’t even that cold of a day, with temperatures averaging around eighteen degrees celsius. All the snowfall from the prior week had now melted. While you knew of the family’s weakness, you also knew that they had bundled up before leaving, and had even taken a torch with them in the hopes of using it on a lycan. Their powers had taken somewhat of a hit, temporarily, but not nearly enough to prevent them from killing a single lycan.
“Heard it howling almost as soon as we left the castle. We couldn’t smell it until halfway to the village, though. Once we could we tried to track it, only for the stupid thing to come charging at us. Must have been eight, maybe ten, meters away by the time we collided,” Cassandra answered. There’s a bit of a shiver to her voice, and you can’t help the rush of sympathy you feel in response. Being out on the path, wearing little more than a dress and scarf, had been absolute hell for you. Even if it was warmer outside now, you imagined that being weak to the cold just about made up for the difference. “There was a little more howling once we started walking back here. Louder, if not closer. Heisenbitch isn’t even trying to keep these fucking things in check.”
“Cassandra, language!” Came a voice in the distance, making everyone present look up at once. Strutting down the stairs was a clearly miffed Alcina, eyes narrowed, body tense. “Did you three really have to bring the mutt inside? Surely you advocated against this, Bela? Or did you think I wanted new bloodstains right by the entrance, where everyone can see them?” Next to you Bela winces, but doesn’t respond, too worried about angering her mother further. “And you, my dear, what on Earth are you doing on the floor? You should be resting, in an actual chair, if not lying in bed awaiting my return. There’s enough for me to worry about without you limping around on a useless leg!”
Now it was your turn to wince.
“Please, love, I know you’re stressed, but I can still help. Given enough time I could help ascertain these things’ weaknesses. At the very least I could pass on what I learned during my fight with one,” you pleaded. Then you tried to stand up, wanting to prove yourself, only to stumble, barely avoiding a faceplant- and only doing so because of Bela’s quick reaction time. She helped you to your feet, letting you lean on her, then lead you towards a bench. Begrudgingly you sit back down. “You’re only doing this because I got hurt. Helping you in your endeavor to avenge me is the least I can do.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Alcina snapped, now just a couple meters away from you. Even with that space between you, her presence was intimidating, and you almost felt like a child being scolded. “Were you to get hurt again, how would we avenge you? If you fall by your own hand, there will be naught I can do other than lock you away somewhere without any dangerous elements. What sort of existence would that be for you? I simply can’t allow it, no exceptions.” At this you pout, feeling rather disappointed. It’s not as if you were asking to carry a gun and shoot Heisenberg yourself! Not that you would be opposed to doing so, of course. “Try to put yourself in my place, my dear. Could you live with yourself if you failed to protect me?”
“I suppose I could not, love. Very well, I shall simply root you on from here, and kiss away any injuries you return with,” you replied, at last giving in. Then you found yourself smiling… and on the receiving end of a very soft forehead kiss. “Nothing will separate us, my love. None can tear apart that which the universe has stitched together.”
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“Like I said, my Lady, I already want him dead. Did you really think that your family was the only one to suffer because of his machinations? I know half a dozen people who would love to put a bullet in that fucker’s skull, bare mims,” the huntress said, white teeth showing in her half-smirk. There was an odd coolness to her voice, like this whole ordeal was just another job, and you couldn’t help but feel uncertain about her. Could she really be the solution to Alcina’s problem? You couldn’t even judge her arsenal, considering she had been instructed to come unarmed. After all, she was a hunter of monsters, with a sizable history to her name. If not for her hatred of Heisenberg, you would never have felt comfortable letting her come within two hundred meters of your girlfriend.
“How can I be sure that you’ll succeed? The last thing I want is to have that wretched man-thing come crawling out of the filth he lives in, angry and coming for vengeance,” Alcina responded, scrutinizing gaze locked on the huntress.
“Didn’t Duke give you my file? Or at least read the good bits out loud? I’ve been in my fair share of scraps, with all sorts of bioweapon mutant freaks. Besides, I don’t plan on leaving any receipts behind. If he manages to survive, which is already one hell of an if, there’s no way he can prove that you asked me to do it. Considering he’s already seen my face, and knows I want him dead… yeah, he won’t bother accusing you, not when I’m in the picture, and certainly not when you’ve got such a big reputation for following Mother Miranda’s word down to the very last letter. So, you gonna make this official, or what?” The huntress asked, gesturing her arms wide. Although you’re still not convinced, Alcina nods quietly, seeming ready to make her decision. Regardless of how you feel about the stranger in front of you, you’re more than willing to support your girlfriend in whatever she planned.
“Very well, huntress. Show us just what you’re capable of.”
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Flames licked at her heels, even as she charged forward, tickling like hot breaths against her skin. Behind her half a dozen lycans roared and screeched in unison. Smoke and ashes flew upwards, into the air, but could not poison her lungs, not when she had come prepared. Still, the mask was not as easy to breathe in as she had hoped, making her chest heave with effort at each intake of air. Good thing I’ll be gone soon, she thought, sparing a glance behind her as she ran. Dozens of trees were aflame, and countless glowing eyes watched from between the branches. They wouldn’t be there for much longer, not with what she had done.
Soon enough an explosion would shake the Earth. Then, finally, both the lycans who had killed her father and the man who desecrated the remains would be dead. And if a certain countess happened to pay her for her services? All the better, really. Funerals could be expensive, especially in such a remote village. More than that… there was no guarantee that she’d be able to outrun Mother Miranda on her own. A little money would make the flight out a hell of a lot nicer.
Assuming she made it that far. There was another scream behind her, this one more human, though somewhat warped by mechanics. It wasn’t a pained cry. No, it was filled with rage. Clearly Heisenberg had come out of his lair, hearing the fireworks, finding his scrap metal and werewolf army in chaos. From the sound of things- metal against metal, electricity crackling- he was coming her way.
“Fuck fuck fuck!” She muttered, desperately trying to get to higher ground. Even if the lycans succumbed to the overwhelming fire, it wouldn’t be hard for their leader to overcome. But the huntress was still too close to her explosives to risk activating the detonator. Just a bit farther, she thought, ignoring the way her lungs ached. Rocks kicked up with every step, loud enough to be heard from a distance, and made traction harder to keep. In the end she had to scramble to get up the side of a short cliff. A few scrapes appeared on her hands, making her curse under her breath.
But with one last movement, pulling herself up with both arms, she was finally far enough to be relatively safe. In one clean second she turned around, pulled the detonator out of its pouch and clicked the trigger. Just like that, a forest blazing turns into a mushroom cloud of pure hellfire. The setting sun makes for a beautiful backdrop, and the sight almost brings a tear to the huntress’ eyes. For a few moments she just enjoys the view. Then, without hesitation or remorse, she starts to walk away, mentally congratulating herself for a job well done.
Until something shoots past her head with terrifying speed. Before she can react another sharp piece of metal flies past her, grazing her arm, and there’s a blood-curdling roar from behind her. Then she’s running, fast as she can, pulse pounding harder than it ever has. One hand goes to the rifle on her back, pulling it out as quickly as she can. The area is rocky, with plenty of outcrops, perfect to hide behind (assuming there weren’t any hidden metal deposits). Quickly she ducks behind one, crouching to keep her head out of sight. Mere milliseconds later another metal spike slams into the ground just beyond her cover.
In the distance, more screams pierce the air, and something heavy drags itself across the ground. It almost sounds like a tank rolling through the woods. The thought alone worries the huntress, but she had never been one to let her fear control her. So she double checks her rifle, adjusts the scope, and pops out of cover. Less than a second later she has her target in her sights. It’s Heisenberg, for sure, more metal than man, but dripping with red. One press of the trigger sends a bullet straight for his ugly head. Unsurprisingly, it’s not enough to pierce his cranium, instead making him mad as hell.
Which is why automatic guns were invented, probably. The huntress holds the trigger down this time, though briefly, before dashing to the next piece of cover. She repeats the process a few times, hoping to kill the man before he could climb the cliff she stood on. If he managed to get up there with her… no, she couldn’t think about that, not now. She had to focus.
-----------------------------
Hidden among the trees, the Dimitrescu sisters watched as plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Even though they had been aware of the huntress’ plan, they hadn’t expected this much carnage. It was certainly exciting! But they really couldn’t see much from where they were. Getting closer was probably a horrible idea, and yet Cassandra shared a meaningful look with Daniela. A split second later they were forming a swarm, rushing into the trees, leaving their elder sister to yell after them.
“Mother’s going to kill me,” Bela said, before rolling her eyes and following. Maybe she could at least keep them out of trouble?... Probably not.
-----------------------------
Metal hands wrap around the huntress’ throat, squeezing hard, but do not twist or otherwise break their prey. No, Heisenberg does not intend to end this that quickly. This rodent had taken so much from him, set his plans back by decades. He was going to kill her slowly. When she still fights back, pulling a knife from her boot and trying to stab whatever she can reach, he does little else but laugh. It’s a crazed cackling that echoes through the surrounding rocky hills.
Just barely loud enough to drown out the sound of insects buzzing.
“Fuck that guy!” Someone shouted, right as a sickle descended upon the monstrous Heisenberg’s neck. The first slice isn’t enough to sever the connection, which is why it’s immediately followed by a second, from another sister, then a third, from the eldest, that finally does the job. Just like that the hands release from the huntress’ throat, and she gasps for air. Coughs leave her distracted as the sisters move to surround her. “Good thing we wanted to see the show up close and personal, eh?” Daniela asked, twirling her sickle with a little giggle.
“You idiots are just lucky I followed you,” Bela added, glaring at her sister. Internally, she was relieved that the end result was a success. Still, she worried about what her mother would think, and certainly didn’t intend to voice her satisfaction at delivering the killing blow. “Now let’s get back, before mother assumes the worst and comes to get us herself.” Sighing, she extends a hand to help the huntress up. Though their mutual enemy had been defeated, there was still much to be done. Who knew how Mother Miranda would react? Who, if anyone, would take Heisenberg’s place? There was plenty to be unsure about, and Bela let her mind wander the whole way back, hoping that things would only get better from here...
#lady dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu x reader#alcina dimitrescu x reader#alcina x reader#I know the reader didn't have a big part in this#but don't worry next chap will have a bigger part#partially cuz reader's leg will actually be a bit better by then#gotta give time to heal!!!
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Wait I just read the head canon of the “spider in the shower” scenario and they were AMAZING. So spot on😭. I am here to put in a request for this but for the Mayans and if you want to/have time for the rest of the SOA boys. I just loved it soooo much 🥺 you write so well for these characters!!!
Ask and you shall receive! For those wondering, Here is the original Spider in the Shower HC for the SOA boys.
HC for the Mayans Men under the cut! These are a little different set-up-wise since as far as we know the Mayans clubhouse doesn't have dorms. So these all take place in houses or apartments or whatever you picture these boys living in
Bishop:
- he heard you scream and came running from the other end of the house, banging on the bathroom door, “Sweetheart, you alright? Open up!” The two-second delay between him saying that and you unlocking the door felt like an eternity to him. He never heard you scream like that before
- when he walked in he expected to see blood everywhere, or something completely shattered and broken. But nothing seemed out of place. The only thing that seemed off was you, sitting up on the sink counter dripping water while staring at the bathtub.
- “What’s going on?” he looks around the bathroom but can’t for the life of him figure out what’s wrong. He grabs a towel and drapes it around your shoulders as he follows your line of sight.
- “Why the fuck is there a spider in our shower?” you look up at him.
- he wasn’t used to you asking questions so aggressively. He made a mental note that spiders were a tense topic for you. He could only shrug in response before saying, “I didn’t send out invites, you know. Don’t look at me like that,” you could see that he was trying not to smile and failing miserably.
- “Will you kill it, please?” your tone switched from annoyed to pleading. He chuckled as he peered behind the shower curtain, “You sure you don’t want me to just catch him and put him outside?” You raised your eyebrows, “And give him the chance to come back? No fucking way.”
- he didn’t say anything else as he took his boot off and smack it against the wall, effectively putting the spider out of commission. You stayed on the sink out of the way as he grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the mess, throwing the spider in the trash
- he scooped you up off the sink counter and walked you back to your shared bedroom, hiding his laughter by pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. He set you down on the bed and threw you one of his old t-shirts to put on. The two of you looked at each other in silence for a few moments before you finally spoke up, “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” He laughed as he collapsed on the bed next to you, “I won’t...for now.”
Angel:
- he thought that he was in for a sexy time in the shower with you. He was eagerly slipping out of his jeans and tank top as he watched you hop into the shower, disappearing behind the curtain.
- he peeled off his socks and was getting ready to hop in the shower behind you when the sound of your scream filled the tiny space at his house. He didn't even have time to try and register what was going on as you leapt out of the shower, water still running, and slamming into him. You sent both of you crashing into the sink counter
- “Fuck, Y/N, what’s the matter with you?” he was rubbing his hip where it had just gotten jammed into the corner of the counter
- “There’s a spider in there!” He looked at you, not completely surprised, “So you gotta bodyslam me? C’mon, querida, it can’t be that scary. It’s way smaller than you.” You narrowed your eyes at him, “Then you go kill it!”
- he scoffs, reaching and shutting the water off before peeling the curtain back, “Maybe I will.” He does his signature, cocky little head shake that drives you nuts when it’s directed at you.
- he holds his hand out behind him, “Gimme a tissue.” You set one in his hand, eagerly watching over his shoulder as he catches and crushes the spider inside the tissue. He turns back to you, a proud smirk on his face, “See? All taken care of.” He tosses it in the toilet and flushes it away.
- Once it’s gone for good, he reaches and turns the shower back on. His expression changes completely when he turns back around to you and sees you pulling your rode on. “Where you goin’, querida?” he looks so genuinely confused.
- you shake your head, “I’m not getting back in that fucking shower tonight. Have fun.” You don’t give him the chance to try and change your mind and you can hear him groaning behind you as he shuts the shower back off again, admitting defeat.
Coco:
- swings the door open with an amount of force that you’d never seen, baseball bat in his hand, “Who the fuck is in here?!” he looks frantically around the bathroom, trying to locate whoever it was that made you scream like that.
- it took a second before he noticed that you were standing to the side of him, tucking yourself neatly into the corner of your bathroom. He saw the way your hair was still dripping and quickly looked you over to make sure that you were physically okay.
- “What happened?” his hand was still gripping the baseball bat tightly. You pointed to the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower...”
- he couldn't pretend that he wasn’t confused, “Alright. And?” You scoffed, “What do you mean and?” He shrugged, “I mean and what the fuck made you scream like that? It bite you or somethin’?” You sighed, “No! It didn’t bite me. I just...I don’t want a spider in the shower with me, Coco! You gotta kill it!”
- his grip on the bat finally loosened up a bit. He shook his head, “You had me thinkin’ there was a murderer in here or some shit. You can’t kill it yourself?” You flashed him your best puppy-dog eyes, “C’mon, Coco, please?” He tilted his head slightly, “Whatchu gonna do if this happens when I’m not here?”
- you sighed. You should’ve known that it wasn’t going to be an easy thing with him. The man put holes in people’s heads on a semi-regular basis for the club without question, but asking him to squash a bug was going to spark a philosophical discussion.
- “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Please, Coco, I don’t wanna do it.” It was evident in his eyes that he was contemplating leaving you to deal with the problem on your own. But he was soft for you and couldn't follow through on it. With a sigh, he climbed into the tub and stomped the spider with no hesitation before washing it down the drain.
- he kissed your forehead, “Next time you gotta do it. Survival of the fittest, Ma.” You rolled your eyes, “My knight in shining armor.” He turned around and flashed you the cocky smile that made you weak in the knees every time, “Damn right.”
EZ:
- the sound of your yell filled the entirety of the small trailer. He jumped up off the bed and made his way to the small pocket of space that passed for his bathroom and was instantly bombarded by you running into him. The front of his shirt instantly became soaked, absorbing all the water from your body.
- “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he gripped you gently but firmly by the outsides of your arms. You shook your head, “This trailer is not big enough for the three of us, Ezekiel.” His eyebrows furrowed, “Three of us?” You nodded, “Yea. You, me, and your hairy eight-legged friend in there,” you gestured towards the bathroom.
- that was when he realized what happened. He smiled down at you before he thought better of it and you pushed his chest, “It’s not funny!” He nodded, forcing a serious expression as he held his hands up in surrender, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
- “Want me to take care of it?” the smirk was already reappearing on his face. You huff, “No, I want the three of us to learn how to live in harmony together.”
- “I know you’re being sarcastic,” he chuckled as he shuffled past you to get to the bathroom, “But that would make for a good story.”
- you were shaking your head as you grabbed one of his shirts to wear, sitting down on the bed as you watched him try to maneuver around in the small space to kill the spider.
- “Sorry, buddy,” EZ spoke to the creature as he got ready to squash it with a tissue, “but she said that we can’t be friends.” You rolled your eyes, “You’re not about to make me feel bad about this, EZ.”
- he reemerged from the bathroom, tossing the tissue into the garbage can, “Sounds like a guilty conscience, to me.” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, “You’re the worst.” He laughed as he peeled off his now-soaked shirt, “Is that any way to thank the guy who just saved you?”
- you pressed your lips into a thin line, staying silent for a moment before grabbing the other pillow and throwing it at him, “Thank you.”
Creeper:
- 100% comes running into the bathroom with his shotgun in his hand after he hears you scream
- has never heard you express that kind of fear before and definitely think that someone was hiding in the shower and had a knife to your throat or something
- when he sees you perched up on the closed toilet lid he is confused to say the least. Your hair is dripping and you hadn’t even bothered to grab a towel when you jumped out of the shower
- still not completely sure what’s going on, he refuses to completely set down his gun, instead letting it dangle by his side as he looks you over, “Hey, Mama, what’s going on in here?”
- not getting up from your perch, you point to the shower, “You gotta kill it, Neron.”
- “Kill what?” he rips the curtain back but doesn’t see anything at first
- you point aggressively towards the corner of the shower where all the body wash and shampoo bottles are stacked, “The spider!”
- “The spider?” he fights back a laugh as he rests the shotgun across his shoulders, arms dangling over it, “You screaming like that over a spider?”
- “Will you kill it already?!”
- he hands you a towel to wrap around your shoulder, chuckling as he sets his gun down outside the bathroom door. You try to tell him that he might still need the gun and he laughs before stepping into the tub to locate and kill the spider.
- very nicely, he asks you to get off the toilet so he can flush it away down the toilet. You jump up, standing at the very edge of the doorway as you watch him flush it away. He shuts the toilet lid and turns back to you, an amused smile on his face
- “Didn’t know you were afraid of spiders, baby,” he walks over and hugs you, kissing the soaking wet hair on top of your head, “I’ll keep a closer eye out for them.”
- “You better,” you grumble as you lean into his chest, “Or I’m gonna start using the shotgun.”
Hank:
- does not want to burst into the bathroom while you’re in there, feeling like he’s invading your privacy despite the fact that you screamed for him hardly a moment before
- gently knocked on the door and you responded with what he could only describe as a bark as you told him to get in the bathroom now
- once he was halfway inside the door, you pulled him completely in by his hand. He was trying not to stare at you but it was difficult to pry his eyes away from you, not used to seeing you standing around so exposed, and drenched from your shower
- “You gotta kill it, Hank.”
- he raised his eyebrows, “Kill it? Kill what?” You nod towards the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower!”
- all the tension that he was previously holding in his shoulders disappeared. He remembered at one point you’d mentioned that you hated spiders, but he didn't think that you really hated them that much. He knew how much you loved your long, hot showers.
- “I thought you were hurt, Y/N,” he was trying to sound bothered but you could see the smile fighting its way onto his face.
- “Um,” you scoff, “I could’ve been hurt. That thing is the size of a small dog.”
- he chuckled and shook his head, “Alright, alright,” he gently ushered you through the doorway, “Go get changed and I’ll take care of it for you,” he watched you walk towards the bedroom, “Better call the dog warden just in case!”
Taza:
- he heard you calling for him and had no idea what to expect. You weren’t the type to yell across the house for things that you needed.
- when he got to the bathroom, you were standing outside the doorway, towel lazily wrapped around you as you stood and waited for him. With every passing second he became more confused.
- once you told him that there was a spider in the shower and you couldn't go back in the bathroom until it was dead, a smile took over his face and he couldn't help but to laugh
- Che “Catch & Release” Romero
- you were upset that he was going to give the spider a chance to come back and try again to ambush you in the shower, but you knew it was an argument that you weren’t going to win with him.
- within a minute he had it trapped in a cup, covering the opening with his hand as he walked it back through the house to release it.
- he came back to find you sitting cross-legged on the bed, still wrapped in your towel. He tried to sit next to you but you pulled away from him, scooting farther down the bed.
- “What is it, mi amor? Hm?” there was a small, knowing smile on his face as he asked you the question. You huffed, “I don’t want you to touch me with your spider hands!”
- he laughed, “I only touched it with this hand,” he held up his right hand before reaching to caress your face with his left, “So this hand is still safe for you.”
Gilly:
- is under the impression that you are being dramatic about something when you call him into the bathroom for an emergency
- he walks in all cocky, expecting you to have some weird, little favor to ask of him
- he wasn’t thinking that he was going to open the door and nearly cause you to fall over in the process. He catches you, but barely, your dripping skin sliding in his grip.
- “Fuck, what happened in here?” he saw the water all over the floor where you jumped out of the shower
- “You have a spider in your shower!” you pointed frantically. He shook his head, as if he should’ve known that it would be something like that, “So? Shoot it with the showerhead.”
- you give him an offended look, “You shoot it with the showerhead! I don’t want to be anywhere near that thing.” He laughed and pulled the curtain to the side and looked around for the creature in question.
- gets halfway through some smartass remark before seeing the spider and jumping back himself, “Fuck!”
- your fear would be momentarily outweighed by the satisfaction of seeing Gilly eat his words. You cross your arms over your bare chest, “Just shoot it with the showerhead, baby.”
- you can’t hear too clearly what he’s saying as he grumbles, sliding the boot off of his foot before slamming it down on the floor of the shower, crushing the bug in the process. He would deny it if anyone asked him about it after the fact, but you definitely heard him let out a sigh of relief once he lifted up the boot and saw that the spider was dead
Riz:
- is full of worry as he rushes to the bathroom
- he walks in and sees you standing, leaning back against the sink counter, water dripping off your body onto the floor. His initial instinct is to try and take care of you, grabbing a towel and trying to wrap it around your shoulders.
- “You gotta kill the spider, Riz,” you were completely ignoring the soft gestures he was trying to give you.
- “Wh-what?” he was thoroughly confused, still trying to drape the towel around your shoulders. You grabbed the towel from him, breaking his singular concentration, “There’s a spider in your shower, Riz. You gotta kill it.”
- “Is that what made you scream?” he gently wiped some of the water off of your cheek, “It’ll probably leave you alone if you wanna finish your shower, hermosa.” You turn and look at him, dumbfounded, “Do you...do you shower when you know there’s a spider in there with you?” He shrugged, “We just don’t bother each other.”
- you couldn't believe what you were hearing, “How long have you known there’s a spider in there?” He could sense that he was in hot water already but he couldn't force himself to lie to you, “I mean, I don’t know if it’s always the same spider but--” You couldn't listen to any more of what he was about to say, “Kill it, Michael. Please.”
- he grabbed a second towel and threw it down on the floor to soak up some of the water that you’d dragged out of the shower with you, “Okay, okay. Whatever you want, querida. Go dry off, I’ll take care of the spider.”
- as much as you wanted to be as far away from the spider as possible, you stayed, “I wanna make sure you actually get rid of it.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he reached and shut the shower off. He saw it crawling up onto the lip of the tub and with one smooth motion he crushed it underneath the toe of his boot.
- “All better?” he turned back to you. You tapped your finger against his chest, “No more letting bugs be guests in our shower. I’ll leave. I’ll move out.”
Bonus- Nestor (because i love him):
- he swung the door open and was met with the sight of you standing on top of the closed toilet lid. Instantly he felt like whatever the situation was, was above his paygrade. The shower was still running and water was all over the floor.
- he held his hands out to help you down, “Get down from there. You’re gonna fall and crack your skull.”
- “Better than letting that thing in there kill me!” it was dramatic, but you didn't care. His brows furrowed in confusion, “What thing? Where?” You pointed to the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower, Nes!”
- the expression on his face let you know that he felt that it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this level of nonsense. He ran his hands down his face before holding them out to you again, “Please get down off the toilet, Y/N.” You shook your head, “Not until you kill the spider.”
- with a deep sigh, he turned the water off in the shower and pulled the curtain to the side. He scanned the tub for a minute before finally finding the threat. He wouldn't admit it to you, but he understood why it freaked you out--it was a big fucking spider.
- not thinking better of it, he picked your slide up off the floor and slammed it down onto the spider, crushing it on the bottom of your shoe. You whined, “Why’d you have to use my shoe?” He turned back to you, his expression painfully neutral, “The spider is dead, isn’t it?” he held his hands out yet again, “Now please get down from there.”
- you placed your hands in his and let him help you down, instantly wrapping your legs around his waist so that he was forced to hold you. It got a laugh out of the both of you as he caught you, holding you up with ease.
- “You owe me new slides, you know,” you chuckled as he carried you to the bedroom. He laughed, “Only if you promise not to climb on the toilet anymore.”
#ask#asks#mayans mc#mayansmc#mayans fx#bishop losa#angel reyes#ez reyes#ezekiel reyes#coco cruz#johnny coco cruz#taza romero#creeper vargas#neron vargas#gilly lopez#riz ariza#nestor oceteva#hank loza#tranq loza#garbinge#hc#mayans hc#mayans mc hc#drabblesmc
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