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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 3 years

Text

My Tasha

Word count: 7334

Genre: Mostly angst but the ending is fluffy

Pairing: Natasha x fem!reader

Warnings: A sort of suggestive scene? I think that's all (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: congrats on those 500’ love!!! they are well deserved for all of your amazing words 🥺 i was just thinking how cute it be for nat to take a liking to reader, so she tries all those “seductive” tricks the red room taught her, but r just reads it as a cocky fuckboy thing and rejects her? soft!nat appearing later to ask her out? 🥺

Summary: Natasha tries to seduce you at a party but you misunderstand, assuming she's just using you. Both of you mope before realizing what happened.

A/n: Finally I finished this! It was supposed to be 2000 words max but I got carried away and @teenwonder I blame you since you were the one who sent in this idea. I actually really like how this turned out, even if it differs from the prompt slightly so I hope you guys like it too because this probably took at least ten hours to write and I have lost way too much sleep over it. Enjoy!

Natasha looks in the mirror and lifts the corner of her mouth into a slight smile. She looks hot and she knows it, spending hours in front of the mirror perfecting the look. Her eyeshadow screams seduction and her lipstick highlights and colours the natural shape of her lips. Her lashes are curled to perfection and her makeup is applied with the technique she learned years ago that was guaranteed to make people stare. Her hair is straightened because it matches the look and also the last time she straightened it you had complimented her hair so she knows you like it.

Her dress is black, the colour that looks best on her, with a neckline that is dangerously low and the bottom riding dangerously high on her thigh. Her heels are her go to ones for anytime she wants to seduce anyone, they manage to work every time and have become a small symbol of luck for her and tonight she needs all the luck she can get for tonight’s party.

Usually people are easy to seduce, she just has to figure out the likes and dislikes of her target and play up to them. Tonight shouldn’t be much different except for the big added aspect of her actually caring. She’s never had to seduce someone she’s wanted to before so she knows it’s going to be harder than normal. Taking a deep breath she pushes the nerves away and smirks at her own reflection before going to meet everyone in the main room.

Your breath hitches when she walks in and you quickly look away so it doesn’t seem like you’ve been waiting for her arrival. She’s gorgeous, she always is, but tonight there’s something about her that’s different, like she put more effort than usual. You force yourself to stay calm and look away, pretending to still be interested in the conversation you had been having with Carol that you zoned out of the moment Natasha entered the room.

Carol’s looking at you strangely. “What?”

She gives a half laugh. “You think I didn’t notice you drooling over Natasha.”

“That obvious?” you ask and she nods. “Damn.”

“Damn is right, she’s smoking!” Carol whisper-yells, glancing over quickly and then back to you.

“Carol!” you exclaim aghast.

She laughs again. “Don’t worry I’m not trying to steal your girl, after all I have Valkyrie.”

“Yes and you constantly remind me of that.” you mumble which she ignores.

“I’m just saying that some people are already staring at her and are going to be all over her soon, you need to make your move quickly.” she finishes.

“I will.” you tell her, with no real intention of going to talk to her.

“Sure you will,” she says quietly at first before yelling in Natasha’s direction, “Hey Romanoff! Come here.”

Natasha is surprised and she hopes Carol isn’t calling her over because she noticed her staring. Logically she knows that Carol doesn’t want to date you and is dating Valkyrie but it looked far too much like flirting in her opinion. There were whispers and giggles and at one point you got all flustered and embarrassed. She doesn’t like how possessive she feels over you when she has no right to but somehow when it comes to you she can’t quite control herself.

Showing none of the inner thoughts that go through her head she weaves her way over to you. At first some of the team is staring because they got startled by Carol’s yell but a small glare gets them to look away again.

“Hey.” Carol greets when she walks over.

“Hey.” she says back with a smile and it’s not her fault if the smile is a little flirtier than normal and directed more towards where you’re standing. “What’s up?”

“I want to go find Valkyrie and see what’s taking so long for her to come back from the bar but didn’t want to leave Y/n all alone at a party and since you were alone too I thought it would be a great idea for you guys to spend the party together!” she explains quickly. “I’ll come back soon!”

With that she leaves and you and Natasha are left looking at each other awkwardly. She wants to say something to break the silence but all her earlier confidence is gone and she feels like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Which is half true, she is definitely not a schoolgirl but she’s never had feelings like this for anybody before.

“You don’t have to stay here.” you offer, feeling bad that she was forced to come here and babysit you. Carol is your best friend but sometimes you just can’t stand her. This is so uncomfortable and Natasha is looking at you weirdly and you just know that she’ll apologize and leave so she can spend the party with people who actually know how to have fun.

“I know but I want to.” she says and you can’t help looking away shyly and smiling. She smiles herself at your cuteness, now slightly more confident knowing that she can make you react like that.

---

She smirks as for the thousandth time that night you struggle to keep your gaze from dipping below her neck. The dress was a good choice and judging based on your lack of eye contact you appreciate it. She knows you find her attractive, it’s hard not to know that with you staring at her boobs every few seconds but as the night goes on she’s more and more hopefully that you want to date her. Your flushed cheeks and occasional stuttering give you away.

Some guy interrupts your conversation and she resists the urge to punch him. She doesn’t know what he’s here for and shouldn’t punch people for interrupting a conversation with a girl she really really likes (she doesn’t allow herself to consider love just yet).

“Hey beautiful.” he greets her, stepping into her space and ignoring you. Against her better judgment she does punch him and giggles as he staggers backwards muttering about bitches under his breath. Really the punch shouldn’t have affected him that much, it was light and not in an area that would cause serious injury, he was just weak.

“Holy fuck.” you whisper under your breath.

“That didn’t bother you, did it?” she rushes to confirm, not wanting to have upset you by resorting to violence. She wasn’t quite sure how to take your holy fuck, whether you meant it in a good way or not.

“It was so hot.” you breath and then immediately clamp a hand over your mouth once you’ve realized what you’ve said out loud.

You’re about to apologize but she speaks first. “Really?”

You don’t understand how she makes her voice sound so smooth and seductive but it makes your knees weak. You’re nervous but there’s no point in taking it back now and it does seem like she’s flirting with you so you continue.

“Yeah, what can I say I like strong women who don’t take shit from men.” you say, moving closer to her. You haven’t flirted very much before but judging based on how her eyes darken slightly you think it’s working.

She reaches out and runs her hand down the side of your face slowly, making you shiver. “Looks like we have the same type.”

She keeps her hand there for a second then leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away. You’re frustrated by how long it’s taking and try to take a small step towards her so you can kiss her. It doesn’t work well since you forgot you’re wearing heels and lose your balance, making her laugh, her breaths dancing over your lips. And then suddenly she’s not moving slowly anymore and her lips are on yours and it’s all you can think about. Your other senses are all dulled and you kiss her harder to prove that this is real.

After a few seconds she pulls back. “I didn’t want people to see,” she explains when she sees your pout, “hallway?”

You’re not sure if it’s even possible for you to do anything but nod and take her hand as she leads you out. Inside of taking you to the main hall she takes you to a side one that doesn’t get used often and only the avengers have access to. Glancing around again to make sure nobody notices she pulls you inside and immediately you’re kissing again.

She presses you against the wall and you grip her shoulders tightly, your nails dipping into her bare skin. When she pulls back again she notes in satisfaction that your lips are smeared with her lipstick and she applauds her choice of bright red. Inside of going back to your mouth she kisses along your jaw and your neck, the lipstick marking you. Happy with her work she moves back to your lips, humming happily at the feeling.

She likes it even more when she feels your mouth open to let her in, taking the opportunity to explore your mouth with her tongue. You let out a small whine and the noise reminds her of where you are.

“Come up to my room?” she asks, smirking. You’re about to say yes when you notice her smirk. It bugs you for some reason, it makes it seem like she’s winning some sort of prize. Breathing heavily you look more closely at her and notice her heels. It’s her seductive mission heels. And then you realize she often wears a black dress to seduce people as well. You feel like a complete idiot, she doesn’t want you for anything more than a quick fling. This was a calculated move on her part.

“No.” you tell her firmly, only able to hold back your tears due to sheer anger. You thought that you were friends, how dare she try to play with your feelings just because she knew she could. Taking advantage of her shock you push past her, running out of the hall and back into the party. You look like a disaster so as quickly as possibly to rush to the doors and leave, running to your room, thankful that everyone seems too invested in their own conversations to notice you going.

You keep running until you reach your room. It didn’t look like she was following you but you don’t want to take any chances. Flinging off your heels because they’re uncomfortable you launch yourself onto your bed and curl up, pulling the covers over your head and putting your face into a pillow. You’re probably getting her lipstick all over right now but you don’t care, you don’t have enough energy to care right now.

You berate yourself again for how stupid you are. You got so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t even consider that it didn’t mean the same to her as it did to you. It’s so obvious in hindsight. How after one kiss she wanted to sneak away so nobody saw, her glance back at the room before you entered the hall. She wasn’t looking for a relationship that much was clear. She invited you to her bedroom, not on a date.

You try to reason with yourself to make the pain go away but it doesn’t. You weren’t super close but you considered her a friend. Apparently she didn’t consider you one if she was willing to put your friendship aside for sex. You briefly consider that maybe she didn’t know about your feelings but you shake that thought off. She’s smart and reads people easily, she knew she just didn’t care.

You hate the tears that roll down your face. You can’t tell if they’re from sadness or anger and it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems to matter right now. Sobs wrack your body harder and you scream silently into your pillow. You hate this so much, you hate crying and you wish you could hate Natasha but you can’t. You hate yourself for letting yourself get hurt like this though.

---

Natasha watches you leave. She wants to run after you but the look on your face when you pushed by her stops her. You looked so disgusted that you had just made out with her and she can feel her heart breaking into a million pieces just thinking about it. She doesn't know what she did to get it. It’s obvious that you regretted kissing her but it hurts that you seem disgusted by it.

She allows herself a few moments to stand there and try to comprehend what just went on, a single tear dripping down her face. Swallowing hard she wipes it away and takes a breath to collect herself. She makes sure her dress is straight and runs her fingers through her hair so it doesn’t look too wild.

It doesn’t really matter what she looks like, she’s planning to slip out the back of the hall, the opposite way that you went, so it’s unlikely anyone will see her but she wants to be prepared on the off chance that the halls aren’t empty. Biting her lip to stay calm she walks out the end of the hall and slowly makes her way to her room.

She feels so stupid. She’s not even mad at you for feeling disgusted she’s mad at herself. She got so caught up in her own feeling that she never stopped to think about the fact that you don’t like her back. For a moment it seemed like you did but that was probably you being too nice to say no to her.

Her heels seem to mock her as she walks up the stairs with the way they clip clop. So much for lucky heels, she’ll never be able to use them again without remembering how badly she failed. She tugs on her dress from both the top and the bottom, trying to pull it longer in both directions. She felt so confident in it earlier in the mirror and especially when she caught you staring but now she just feels dirty and slutty.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” she mutters out loud to herself when she finally gets to her room. Looking in her mirror upon entry only makes things worse. She’s lucky that she didn’t see anyone in the halls because even after her attempts at cleaning up she looks like a mess. Her makeup is smudged all over and she can see the upset written plainly on her face.

Usually it’s easy to hide her emotions but usually she doesn’t feel such strong ones. You make her feel and she hates it. Only earlier today she loved that you made her feel. She loved the way her heart fluttered thinking about you and how she wasn’t always perfectly composed. You made her feel normal. But now she hates the way her heart betrays her, happy at even the thought of you.

Her only option right now is to forget and she thanks herself for always keeping a bottle of vodka in her room. A bad habit perhaps, but she rarely drinks from it and it is perfect for this situation. Drinking doesn’t help much, even after a while the hurt is still fresh in her mind, but it stops her from overthinking. When she eventually leaves the bottle and slips into bed it’s nobody’s business but hers if she cries herself to sleep.

---

You bury yourself deeper into your covers when you hear knocks at your door, hoping that whoever it is will go away soon.

“Y/n open up!” you hear Carol shout, still pounding on the door. “Unless Natasha’s with you, don’t think I didn’t notice you left the party earlier.”

Carol’s mention of Natasha makes a lump form in your throat and suddenly you feel the sudden urge to take a shower and wash all of her off you. You must have stayed silent for too long because Carol’s knocking stops and she speaks again.

“If you don’t say anything in five seconds I’m coming in.” she tells you.

You don’t know if you want her here or not. Carol is always good at making you cheer up but you feel embarrassed to tell anybody what happened.

“Four.”

Carol would understand though, she’s never been one to judge people for things and she was the one who helped push you towards Natasha, telling you she liked you back.

“Three.”

You realize that Natasha’s lipstick is still all over you and you’re still wearing the dress from last night. It’s too late to fix the clothes but you try to wipe the lipstick from your neck as quickly as possible (spoiler, it doesn’t go very well).

“Two.”

You’re still not sure if you want her to come in so you open your mouth to try to tell her to go away but the lump in your throat prevents you from speaking.

“One, I’m coming in now.” she says, opening the door. “Is that Natasha’s lipstick?”

It’s too much and you get overwhelmed, bursting into tears. Her grin of triumph from when she saw the lipstick quickly disappears and she rushes over to comfort you, wrapping you in a big hug.

“Do I have to kill her?” she asks, when you’ve calmed down a little bit. If you didn’t know Carol enough to know she’s actually a huge softy you would think she is dead serious.

“No,” you tell her, managing a weak smile at how quickly Carol comes to your defense.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “You have her lipstick all over you and you’re crying because of her. What did she do wrong?”

“It’s not her fault,” you protest. Natasha and Carol are friends and you don’t want them to stop being close because of you.

“It’s not her fault you’re crying?” Carol asks skeptically.

“I-um, she,” you stumble over your words because technically it is her fault you’re crying. “She didn’t mean to.” you finally settle on saying.

Carol doesn’t look any happier with the situation than she did before. “Please tell me what happened Y/n so I can go beat her up for you. Did she try to force herself on you or do anything you didn’t want?”

“No.” you say, shaking your head. Natasha may have only been looking for a one night stand or short fling but you can confidently say that she would never do that.

“Okay, then what did she do to make you so upset? It doesn’t look like she rejected you.” Carol is both stubborn and curious and you sigh knowing you’re not going to be able to get out of this conversation without telling her what happened.

“At first it was really nice, we were talking and then we were kissing. But then-” you pause and take a deep breath as Carol rubs a hand comfortingly on your back. “But then she asked if I wanted to go up to her room.” you pause again, trying not to cry for the second time this morning.

“What did you say?” Carol asks softly, knowing this is hard for you.

“I almost said yes, I was planning to say yes,” you tell her, “but then I looked down at her heels.”

“Her heels?”

“She was wearing the heels she always wears for missions where she has to seduce shady old men.” you explain. “And her dress seemed different than normal, like one she’d wear on a mission and she was smirking at me, like she got exactly what she wanted.”

“She treated you like a mission.” Carol states, a hard look in her eye. “That bitch.”

“Carol,” you warn, “you’re her friend too.”

“And as her friend I’m going to give her some friendly advice.” She emphasizes the word friendly giving the impression that it wasn’t going to be friendly at all.

“It will only make things worse.” you tell her. “I just want to forget about it.”

Carol keeps the hard look but softens a little, smiling at you. “Okay, whatever you want. We could spend the day watching movies and eating ice cream?”

“Okay.” you tell her. You’ve never been heartbroken before but you’ve seen movies and apparently this is what everyone does.

“I’ll go get the ice cream while you pick a movie.” she tells you, standing up. “I’ll even watch a disney one if you’d like.”

You give a halfhearted cheer, trying to convince Carol that you’re excited. She frowns as she leaves the room, that cheer was obviously fake. Any other time and you would be beyond happy that she was agreeing to watch Disney movies with you, you’ve been begging her to for almost a year. She can’t help but feel anger at Natasha and anger at herself. Anger at Natasha for playing with your feelings but anger at herself for pushing you to be with Natasha. She should have realized Natasha wouldn’t treat you right but she was so caught up in trying to pair you together that she didn’t see it.

---

Natasha wakes up as normal, feeling a headache forming already. Glancing towards her alarm clock she sits up in shock when she reads how late it is. She’s never in bed after noon. She groans when she realizes sitting up that quickly was not a good idea and makes her feel nauseous. She takes a few breaths, in and out, to calm herself and tries to remember why she drank so much. She was upset, she remembers that. She was upset because her plan didn’t work.

She feels a sharp pain in her heart when her mental blocks seem to go away and she remembers everything that happened, how the night had been going so perfectly and she had felt so happy only for it to all come crashing down when you ran away, disgusted that you kissed her.

“Stupid.” she tells herself, getting out of bed. She reminds herself of that as she goes about her normal morning routine, washing her face, brushing her teeth and getting dressed. She was so stupid to risk your friendship for something more, now it would be a miracle if you still wanted to be around her. Even if it hurt to pretend you hadn’t kissed she would go back to being friends with you in an instant if you still wanted her. She tries not to think about how big of an if that is.

When she is presentable she decides to head down the kitchen and grab some food. It’s been awhile since she last ate and there’s no use in trying to hide away and avoid her problems; she will either see you and have to confront them or you won’t be there. She knows that hiding away will only make things worse and appear weak, if she leaves her room and pretends everything is normal it will make her seem less hurt than she is.

“Hi Natasha.” Tony says in a weird voice when she enters the kitchen, waggling his eyebrows. She does her best not to show her obvious disappointment that almost everybody is here. The one upside is that you’re not.

“Hi Tony.” she says tiredly, walking over to grab a piece of bread and plopping it in the toaster.

“So Natasha,” he starts, oblivious to her unrelaxed mood, “how was last night?”

Natasha whips around lightning fast, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

He couldn’t possibly have heard, could he? She had hoped to talk to you before word got out about the rejection, to try to keep it on the down-low because the guys would never let her live it down. She assumed you wouldn’t tell anyone but you did leave the hall in the direction of the party so maybe you decided to stay.

“I mean with Y/n.” he says casually as Natasha fights to keep a straight face as her heart beats wildly in her chest. “Don’t think we didn’t notice how you both left early.”

Natasha lets out an almost unnoticeable sigh of relief. He didn’t know anything important.

“Well that may be the case but I can assure you nothing happened.” she tells him.

“Then where is she now?” Tony challenges.

“I don’t know, if you haven’t seen her she’s probably in her room.” Natasha responds smoothly. It’s just her luck that after being rejected by the girl of her dreams Tony thinks they got together.

“And where were you?”

Natasha gives him a deadpan stare. “My own room.”

He scoffs. “First of all you could be lying to us, I know you spies are good at that. But if you aren’t you need to get some balls and ask her out already.”

Natasha scowls. “A man’s balls are the weakest part of his body, I am good without them.”

Tony has enough self preservation to step back for a second. Natasha lets him think that her annoyance is solely over his sexist statement but really it wasn’t that bad and she’s just upset that she can’t have you so she really doesn’t want to be talking about asking you out.

“You should.” Clint speaks up.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Not you too.”

“See Clint agrees with me and I bet the others do too.” Tony says smugly. Natasha lets her eyes move slowly around the room and one but one they all look away when she catches their eye, showing her that while they are too nervous to outright say it, Tony is right and they do agree.

“I don’t care about that,” she says, “I am not and that’s the end of the story.”

“What not?” Tony persists. “You like her, you can’t deny that, so give me one good reason not to.”

“Because she wouldn’t want to and I respect that.” Natasha says calmly. Inside she feels her stomach twisting and she wants to break something. She may be good at hiding her emotions but this conversation is proving to be next to impossible.

Tony scoffs again. “There’s no way, that girl is so in love with you it’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is that you assume things about other people and can’t let this go.” Natasha tells him icily. “You don’t know what she’d say.”

“Then you don’t know either.” Tony counters.

“Then why did she say no when I asked her out last night?” Natasha snaps at him. There are gasps all around the room and to her mortification she is barely holding in the tears that spring to her eyes.

“What?” Sam asks in disbelief.

“I asked her out, she said no and that’s that.” Natasha explains, trying to keep her composure but failing when a tear falls down her cheek. “Excuse me.”

She hurries out of the room, no longer able to handle the talk of asking you out and the disbelieving stares. As she gets back to her room and lies in bed once more she notes in annoyance that she never got her toast. Not that she’s hungry anymore anyway. She doesn’t feel anything anymore except sadness and emptiness. She knew her feelings for you were strong but now that she knows for sure that you don’t want her they feel even stronger and it makes her realize just how much this meant to her and how much she lost.

---

“Hey.” Carol greets as she walks in the kitchen and heads straight for the freezer.

“Morning Carol.” Bruce says, looking shocked when he sees the amount of ice cream she’s holding. “Ice cream for breakfast?”

“It’s for Y/n.” Carol explains.

Tony’s expression turns dark. “What on earth does she need it for?”

“Girl problems, also known as none of your business.” Carols says, in an admittedly sassy voice.

Tony glares. “By girl problems do you mean what happened with Romanoff last night.”

He may tease Natasha but she was like family to him and he would not allow your feelings to be coddled while you stomped all over hers. He doesn’t care if you feel bad for rejecting her, you had flirted and let her on for too long and feeling bad was the least you deserve.

In an instant Carol is across the kitchen and inches from his face. “How do you know?”

“Hey, calm down.” Bruce says, stepping in when he notices Clint and Sam have both tensed up, presumably to defend Natasha’s honor. Even though he’s a man himself he doesn’t understand them sometimes, Natasha was more than capable of taking care of herself and starting a fight between Tony and Carol, the two most stubborn on the team, would only be a headache for weeks to come.

“How do you know?” Carol asks Bruce, thankfully stepping back from Tony.

“She was here a few minutes ago and told us.”

Carol curses under her breath. “That bitch.”

“Hey!” Clint says loudly. “If anyone is a bitch here it’s Y/n.”

“Yes because it’s all Y/n’s fault.” Carol says sarcastically.

Sam decides he’s had enough of Carol. “Yes actually, it is.”

“Bullshit.”

The three of them go back and forth with Carol, mainly cursing and getting a little off topic.

It’s when Carol calls Tony an idiot that Bruce speaks up. “You weren’t here to see Natasha cry.”

“What?” Carol turned to face Bruce, shocked. He isn’t one for petty arguments so she believes what comes out of his mouth. But why would Natasha cry? It doesn’t make sense, she was the one who broke your heart, not the other way around. “Natasha never cries.”

“Well she just did.” Tony says but it’s not in a confrontational tone anymore. He’s not sure what Carol knows but it’s obvious she didn’t know fully what happened.

“Why?”

“It was partly my fault,” Tony admits, “I was teasing her about asking out Y/n and she kept saying no and eventually snapped and told us that she did last night but Y/n rejected her.”

Carol scrunches her brow in confusion. “That’s not what Y/n told me- OHHH.”

“What?” The voice comes simultaneously from all four men at once.

“They are both idiots.” Carol says, smiling and laughing for the first time since entering the kitchen. “They are both huge idiots that don’t know shit about feelings.”

“What?” Tony asks again, wanting to know what Carol’s thinking.

“Okay I’ll tell you but don’t interrupt.” Carol warns and looks at all of them to make sure they nod in agreement. Once she is satisfied she starts. “So this morning I found Y/n in tears and covered in Natasha’s lipstick. Apparently they had fun at the party last night and then snuck away to makeout. Y/n was upset because Natasha asked her up to her room instead of on a date and she noticed that Natasha was wearing her mission heels, do you know them?”

“The ones that she uses to seduce old men for Shield?” Sam asks just to make sure.

“Yep.” Carol confirms. “So anyways Y/n is upset because she thinks that she was just some sort of challenge to Natasha so she left her there…”

“...but Natasha was actually serious about her.” Clint finishes.

Tony laughs. “They really are idiots.”

“I am definitely telling this story at their wedding and to their future kids.” Sam says, also laughing.

“Well first they need to actually talk to each other about this.” Bruce points out, lowering the happy mood of the room. “Right now they’re both in their rooms miserable and feelings like the other doesn’t want them.”

“We should get Natasha to talk to Y/n,” Carol suggests, “because I know that Y/n won’t believe us unless Natasha is the one to tell her.”

“Okay I volunteer to talk to Natasha.” Tony suggests.

“No.” Carol tells him.

“Well you’re Y/n’s best friend so she won’t want to talk to you either right now.” he counters.

“Yes but you’re also a horrible option, I think Bruce would be best for this.”

Bruce looks around the room. “Me?”

“That does make sense,” Clint agrees with Carol, “out of all of us you’re the best at calming people down and she’d be most likely to believe you quicker.”

“But-”

“No buts Brucie, don’t you want to see them together?” Tony pleads.

“Yeah come on Brucie,” Sam mocks Tony, “do it for love.”

Bruce sighs as he watches Tony pout and Sam flutter his eyelashes ridiculously. “Fine.”

“Get straight to the point,” Clint advises, “because she will kick you out if you don’t.”

“Okay.”

Bruce leaves the kitchen to head to Natasha’s room. It took ages for him to be convinced to join the avengers and every day he can’t tell if he regrets his choice or loves his choice. Certainly no other job in the world would force him to go talk to his scary assassin coworker so she and his other coworker can get together. He really isn’t paid enough for this.

A knock startles Natasha. She didn’t think anyone would come after her because she assumed they would all be too scared when she’s in a bad mood.

“Who is it?” she calls out.

“Bruce.”

“Bruce,” she sighs, “I’m sorry but I need to be alone right now, I hope you of all people can understand that.”

“No.” he responds, surprising both her and himself with how determined his voice sounds.

“Bruce-” she starts but he interrupts.

“Hear me out first Natasha,” he begs, “please.”

She thinks about it for a moment before giving up and sighing, she’s not in the mood to spend time arguing. “Fine, but you have to stay outside the door.”

“If that’s what you want.” he agrees, pausing a second to figure out how he wants to word things. “I just came back from an interesting conversation with Carol in the kitchen.” he settles on saying.

“Oh?” She tries not to think about what that means. Carol is your best friend and after her scene in the kitchen this morning she doesn’t think there would be any other reason he would bring her up.

“She was getting ice cream for Y/n because apparently she’s upset.” he offers as a means of explanation.

“Oh.” she says again and it’s so quiet she doesn’t think he heard her. “You can tell Carol that I’ll apologize to Y/n tomorrow, I need to gain control of myself first.”

She never thought about how it would be from your end of things. She forced you into more than you wanted and tried to ask you out and she selfishly focused on her own feelings when you probably were upset that she kissed you. Or you thought you would lose her as a friend. She doesn't think she is capable of talking to you without breaking down right now but in a few days she’ll be fine and able to pretend nothing changed.

“That’s not what she was upset about,” Bruce tells her, “Carol says she was upset because she thought it didn’t mean anything to you.”

“What, why?” Natasha can’t help but let her interest be taken. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, what Bruce said could mean a lot of different things.

“I feel like I’m in middle school and there’s broken telephone being played between two crushes.” Bruce jokes.

“Bruce, tell me why.” Natasha demands. Her voice is soft but they both know if Bruce stalls any longer she’ll drop the sweet act.

“Well Carol said she said that it seemed like you were acting as if she was your mission to seduce and not like you actually wanted to be with her.” Bruce says, relaying the information.

“Crap.”

Bruce waits for Natasha to elaborate but she doesn’t say anything. “Are you okay in there?”

“Yes, thank you Bruce,” she says, “I need to go fix this, you can leave now.”

He can’t help but feel relieved as he speeds away down the hall. He is never going to do anything like that again, it was way too awkward. He still doesn’t understand how the others forced him to do this, damn his heart for being persuaded it was a good cause. The one upside is that talking to Natasha did seem to work and with any luck she’d be able to fix her mistakes with you. If she didn’t he did all this for nothing and may very well hulk out.

---

Natasha paces back and forth in her room. If Bruce was right (and she has no reason to believe he would lie) you didn’t run away because you didn’t like her, you ran away because you thought she didn’t like you. She winces when she thinks about it. Looking back she can see why you were mistaken and thought she didn’t have true feelings for you because she did treat you like a mark. She analyzed what hairstyle and dress you would like and wore her good luck heels. Even the way she talked and acted was calculated to be exactly what you’d like.

She’s stupid, so stupid and if she had just asked you out in a normal way instead of trying to seduce you she could be on a brunch date with you right now. It had never occurred to her to try it any other way, she was taught that seducing was the easiest way to get people to like you so why should it be different for a normal date? In hindsight using red room techniques to get a date is a horrible idea and she can’t believe she didn’t see it before. Maybe she hasn’t shaken off the red room ideals as much as she thought she had.

The thought scares her, her entire life upon leaving the red room has been dedicated to being a force for good, the opposite of everything the red room stood for so to realize that they still have their claws in deeper than she thought is terrifying. She takes a deep breath and tries to make it go away, which is mostly successful as the thought is reduced to the back of her mind. She can take her thoughts and analyze them later, which is another thing the red room taught her to do she notes, but right now she has to focus on the thing that’s most important, fixing her mistake.

As she walks through the halls to your room she runs through things she should say in her head but nothing sounds right. Perhaps it’s for the best though, that way you can tell she’s genuine and not performing another script. She pauses as she reaches your door, finding herself almost shaking with nerves. What if you don’t want her anymore or Bruce misunderstood or worst of all you still think she doesn’t care?

She almost turns around and goes back, unfamiliar with this type of fear but she knows that if she does all chances of fixing things and having a relationship with you will be reduced to zero. Taking a deep breath she turns the knob and pushes the door open.

You don’t look right away when you hear the door open, too lazy to care. “What took you so long, you were supposed to be back with the ice cream ages ago.”

“I-”

You spin around quickly. “You’re not Carol.”

“Nor do I have ice cream.” She tries to joke but it falls flat.

“Why are you here?” you ask and she winces. It’s blunt and straight to the point, your tone quiet but practically screaming at her to get out.

Since you got straight to the point she decides to do the same. “To ask you out.”

You must look even more shocked than you feel because she quickly jumps in to explain. “That’s what I was trying to do at the party last night, although I know you assumed that I didn’t mean it. I know you noticed the heels and I know I was smirking and it seemed like I was playing you but it really was genuine, I was just trying to do it the wrong way. I was always taught in the red room that to get people to like you romantically the best way to do that is to seduce them but obviously that is wrong and I didn’t realize until too late.”

There’s a lot of information to take in but your mind gets stuck on one question. “How do you know all that about how I felt?”

“Carol talked to Bruce who talked to me.” she says, looking slightly embarrassed at how elementary that sounds. “So?”

“So what?” You know she wants to know if you’ll go out with her for real and you really want to immediately say yes but you also want to hear her ask you properly.

She seems to understand. “Will you go on a date with me Y/n?”

You hesitate one moment before responding. It’s unnecessarily mean but you just spent a good portion of last night and this morning crying over her and besides, she looks absolutely adorable as she shifts her weight from side to side nervously. She looks exactly how you want her to look, no makeup and wearing sweatpants. It’s natural and genuine and everything you would have loved to see last night.

“Yes.”

“Oh thank god.” she laughs in relief, the pitch of it breathier than normal.

“I like it when you do that.” you tell her.

She furrows her brow, confused. “Do what?”

“When you laugh like that or wear old clothes, like you’re not trying to impress me.” you explain.

“So when I do the opposite of what I did last night?” she asks, laughing at herself for being so stupid. Of course you didn’t fall for all the acts, if you did she wouldn’t like you as much as she does. You make her feel different and that’s a good thing, she shouldn’t have to act around you.

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong last night was hot,” you tell her, “but it’s not you. That’s agent Romanoff putting on whatever mask she needs to be for the night, this here is my Tasha.”

“Your Tasha, huh,” she teases, “possessive much?”

“Sorry.”

“No,” she tells you, “I like it. I don’t need to put a mask on around you because you’re you and I am your Tasha. But you’re also mine.”

“All yours.” you confirm and she visibly shivers. “Apparently I’m not the only possessive one.”

“Apparently.” she says looking at you in a way that makes heat rise to your cheeks.

“Since we wasted time last night maybe we could start with a movie date right now?” you suggest shyly, changing the topic.

“Well we do have time to make up for.” she agrees, sitting down on the bed beside you. “What movie?”

“Mulan.” you tell her pressing the remote to drop the tv down into your room. There were definitely benefits to living with Tony.

“A disney movie?” she asks skeptically.

“Have you seen it?” you ask already knowing the answer before she shakes her head. “Then don’t knock it, it’s a great movie.”

“If you say so.” she says, still slightly skeptical but much more open to it. Even if the movie is garbage she doesn’t think she’d mind watching it with you. She definitely doesn’t mind it when your head drops onto your shoulder and you fall asleep, tired from the emotional rollercoaster you just went on. And when the movie ends she doesn’t move, happy to have you there, even when hours later her shoulder is all tense and cramped. It scares her how much she feels for you already but it also feels freeing, she knows she is not just the product of the red room because their biggest rule is to not fall in love and she’s definitely going to break that soon, if she hasn’t already.

---

Taglist: @fayhar@xxxtwilightaxelxxx@acertainredhead@madamevirgo@megaqueenmaeve@cherryblossomskye@aaron-despair@chickenhavewisdom@emril-osvigne@nyankitty987@agathaharkness-simp@midnight-lestrange@usernames-are-difficult (couldn't tag)@thewidowsghost@nyx-aira@stephanieromanoff@Satxnsupreme@likefirenrain@wlwlovesreading@natashadeservedbetter@stop-drop-and-drumroll@peggycarter-steverogers@casperlikej@redswing@mochamoff@king-star@blackbat2020

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #black widow fic #marvel fanfiction #mine

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my-mt-heart · 2 years

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Spitballing here. Yesterday I'd realized while on Discord that as romantic & wonderful as Caryl ridding off into the sunset on the bike is, it's a bit unrealistic("Hold your horses", you say, "It's a fucking zombie show. Suspension of disbelief is key"). I know, I know. Part of me feels like a lot of us have been a little on the nose about this. But hear me out. I mean that as in,

1) the question of fueling the bike(are they going to just be willing to abandon it somewhere?) comes into play. They'd have to settle down & farm large amounts of produce to make enough biofuel, reliably & long term. Even if they were to take a jeep, there's only so much room for fuel, which then takes up room for other supplies.

2) housing, long term, becomes an issue. We know these two can live anywhere. We've seen them survive in tents, barns, caves, prisons, shacks, etc. But tents & tarps take up space. Hoofing it with gear or toting it on a bike is cumbersome. Logistics aside, just because they CAN survive out there, doesn't mean they should have to JUST survive. They've struggled for so long that it doesn't necessarily make sense to me that they'd willingly choose to just barely make it. Which leads me to...

3) Neither have ever been 100% comfortable within the "real world"(post-Fall civilization) because they were both in constant states of personal change & growth, & these places have always been someone else's idea of what life should look like. After over a decade of growth, both individually & as a pair, they've become totally different people, evolving from the outlaw & the mouse to survivors, to broken shells pushing people away, to reluctant leaders dealing with the past, & finally pillars of the community, mirroring eachother the whole way. They & viewers, I feel, are owed something by going on that journey together. Their tandem struggles with self-worth, I don't think, have only served to establish their relationship with eachother & their family over the years. There has to be some kind of acknowledgement of, "you're both better at all of this that anyone, you've been around since the beginning, you KNOW how to do this" with them both finally accepting that they're not only worthy of love, praise, & recognition from themselves, their family, & eachother... But from a world that's working to reestablish itself.

Where am I going with all this? I see the idea of them "running away together" as just that; still running. I think they're BOTH done running. But I think that they're capable of leaving without running. There's been interviews, I believe that say that the intention is to not have it appear as them leaving forever or cutting ties with TF. I believe it's entirely possible that, after all of this, and all of their growth, that when the Commonwealth settles into new leadership(I suspect Mercer, as well) that there's sure to still be plans for expansion & goodwill missions. And I'm obviously not talking about in Lance's way of showing up with an entire fucking army behind him. Both Carol & Daryl have seemed to be happiest & find the most self-worth when they were entrusted to be diplomatic. Carol said in Consumed essentially that the person she'd always wanted to be was who she was at the prison. Daryl was absolutely in his element when he partnered with Aaron to be a scout. And we know that both of them can clock someone & their intentions from a mile away. If the Commonwealth were to want to create an outreach program or need a trusted, boots-on-the-ground source of know-how in establishing (not taking over/colonizing) a successful community, these two, together would be the most logical choice.

This leaves room for them to still have resources available to them so they're not constantly struggling/facing hardships (they've suffered enough, dammit, & the tone of the spinoff is supposed to be different), while ensuring there's still room for conflict, while also acknowledging how far they've both come. They have a future & maybe it's really helping to recreate the world, but better, together.

So what do you think? Can you see them tooling around the country on the Commonwealth's dime helping other people find themselves? Or do you think this is insane 8am ramblings? This was so long lmao. Sorry 💕

I'm just impressed you have this much brain power at 8am haha Let's start with the logistical issues. I totally hear you and wonder the same. Regardless of why Daryl and Carol are out on the open road, it might make a few good plot points to see how they go about finding more fuel or water or whatever when those things aren't readily available. But as far as the writers are concerned, frankly I think it's just about what you already mentioned 1) suspension of disbelief and 2) the knowledge that Daryl and Carol are two of the most resourceful characters on the show and they know how to take care of themselves.

As for the other part of your question, yes I can see them traveling around the country on the CW's dime as a way to honor their growth as characters and symbolically keep them attached to their family and if that's what we're getting then cool. At the heart of it, Daryl and Carol are still just looking for happiness together. That's what I care about. At the same time, I think freeing them from obligations might be a big part of that. It doesn't mean they're regressing. It doesn't mean they don't love their family. It doesn't mean they aren't coming back. They just need some space and freedom to be themselves, to not have to take care of anybody else for a change, to not have to be part of any system. I know it gives some people anxiety to think they're leaving everything behind. I don't see it that way. The only reason they're able to get on that bike is because they know they aren't needed. Everybody they love will be safe and thriving by the time they leave. I like to think of their adventure as a honeymoon even if it's not a literal one.

#caryl #caryl spinoff #caryl positivity #caryl is endgame #twd #twd season 11 #twd speculation

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tomurasprincess · 4 years

Text

Wraith’s Touch (Yandere Ghost Shigaraki x Reader)

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader Triggers: Noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, voyeurism, choking, death, yandere. This is seriously dark, so beware. Word Count: 8.5k Note: I blame Cadence for making me thirsty for this idea.

~~~~

There was something creepy about the house, you thought, for what felt like the 50th time today. It was a large, sprawling Victorian style estate, an old house even by your grandmother’s standards. She had lived there alone for years and had refused to move, and she never would tell you why.

You had stayed there before on summer break, when you were a teenager. Although you always adored your grandmother, something about the house itself was unsettling. You felt like you were being constantly watched, felt like things would move around in places where you did not think you had moved them. You thought you saw shadows out of the corners of your eyes, heard strange voices in the middle of the night.

Your grandmother insisted nothing was wrong, that you were simply being paranoid and that she had never experienced anything like what you were describing. You tried very hard to believe her, but it was hard to do that when you saw the worried look in her eyes, the tremble in her voice when she tried to say everything was okay. Ultimately, she made an excuse of you needing to leave quickly, that something had come up. So you had found somewhere else and hadn’t really seen her much after that.

She had died unexpectedly around a month ago, and with no other family to inherit her house and belongings, you were the one chosen to handle everything. You hadn’t been quite as close to your grandmother since that summer at her house, a fact that you bitterly resented now. But anytime you had tried to make plans to come visit, she would always tell you she was too busy and that you’d find another time to get together.

And now you were being willed her house, the one that had so many good memories of your grandmother, but also many unsettling ones. You wish you could be going back to the house in better circumstances.

You lived 2 hours away from where the house was, and it made no sense to continue to stay there and make the drive every day as you sorted through everything in the house. You had broken your lease, explaining about the death, and although your landlord wasn’t happy, he at least wasn’t angry.

Now you are standing outside with a moving van, reminiscing about your past in this house. You sigh and shake your head, before going around to open the back of the van. Your belongings all fit into one small van, since you didn’t have a ton of room in your old apartment. You had left a few things, mostly old furniture, back at the apartment for other people to take if they wanted. This house was huge, and had enough furniture that you wouldn’t need all of your old stuff.

You grab a few boxes from the back of the van and walk to the front door before setting them aside to pull out the keys from your pocket. You take a deep breath before putting the key in the lock and turning it, stepping into the house for the first time in several years.

The feeling of being watched has not gone away since you were last here, the entire entryway feeling just a bit too claustrophobic. The air temperature of the house is cold, your breath puffing out in white clouds. Great, you think to yourself, I bet the air conditioning and heating unit is broken. Will have to remember to call a repairman tomorrow.

You let out a sigh and pick the boxes back up, carrying them into the house. You tried to be efficient with the packing, marking all of the boxes according to what room they went on. These boxes all went to whatever room you would choose as your bedroom.

Your grandmother’s room was technically the master bedroom of the house, but you don’t feel comfortable sleeping in there. So you go down the hall from where her old bedroom was located, and open up the door to where you used to stay.

The room was very similar looking to when you were there before, all the knick knacks and personal items still displayed around the room. The bed was neatly made, and the dresser still had a few small items of clothing that you had forgotten from when you left.

The one difference about the room was how oppressive the air is. It seems to beat down on you, making the room feel like it’s closing in. You had experienced some weird feelings in the house before, but never anything like this. You’re being ridiculous, you scold yourself. This is just a house, and you’re simply missing your grandma.

You shake your head at your thoughts and place the boxes down in the room, before turning around and walking to the door.

As you reach for the doorknob, you hear a strange noise. You whirl your head around, looking through the room again but you see nothing. Old houses make strange noises, you reason with yourself.

And yet you could have sworn it sounded like soft laughter.

~~~~

You collapse in an exhausted heap on the couch. You have finished moving and unpacking the boxes containing your own stuff, and you have started to go through your grandmother’s.

You haven’t even fully re-explored the house yet, and you still have so much to go through. It is much too large for you to consider living in permanently, and you intend to simply sell the house and buy a more modest one with the money from the sale and your inheritance.

But your grandmother had lived here for years, and the house had the accumulation of all that time of collecting items and knick knacks. It was going to take so long for you to go through everything, sorting what to keep and what to sell.

You want to get through this as quickly as possible. The house remains unsettling, and it only seemed to get worse. The atmosphere was still so heavy, almost like a physical presence beating down on you.

The air conditioning and heating repairmen had shown up, only to find nothing wrong. But the house still had strange cold spots throughout, with no explanation for it.

You see shadows out of the corner of your eye, shadows that look people shaped. But when you turn your head around, you see nothing.

Sometimes you think you hear voices, laughter, coming from the dark places deep within the house. It is terrifying, despite how much you try to convince yourself that it’s just the noises of an old house settling.

The final straw was when you were standing on your tiptoes, trying to reach a box from a high shelf. You almost had it when you heard it. A soft whisper in your ear, one that almost sounded like the word “mine.” And then a cold caress, wrapping around your waist.

You startled so hard that you pulled the box entirely off the shelf, leaving it to fall to the floor and smash the contents into pieces. It scared you down to the bones, despite your efforts to rationalize it, to make logical sense of it.

You are so scared, in fact, that you have invited your pro-hero friend to stay the night. He laughed at your fears, promising there was nothing wrong, and that he would be glad to stay with you.

You always had a bit of a crush on him, but it had never amounted to anything. He was busy with his pro-hero job, and you lived a bit too far away for the two of you to see much of each other.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. Finally, you think, he’s running late. You hurry to the door and open it to the face of your friend. He smiles and holds out fast food.

“I figured you were hungry,” he says, before walking into the house.

“I owe you,” you reply, “this house is creepier than I remember.”

“There's nothing wrong, you’re just a scaredy cat with a weak quirk. That’s why I’m here.”

You roll your eyes at his arrogance about his quirk, as you lead him to the room you’ve been using as the living area.

A few hours later, and you find yourself feeling just a bit better about everything. Nothing has happened since your friend arrived, and even the atmosphere has gotten less heavy. You’re both curled up on the couch, stuffed full of food and talking about mindless topics. You’re starting to feel just a bit silly about the whole thing, and you tell him so.

“I told you so,” he chuckles, “anyone would go a bit stir crazy in this house. Plus, you’re still grieving.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” You’re surprised when he scoots closer to you and puts an arm around you, and even more surprised when he grabs your chin to pull you in for a kiss.

You stiffen up for a single second, before melting into the kiss, scooting even closer to him as he wraps his arm around you.

He pulls you into his lap so that he can settle you in between his legs, deepening the kiss as you wrap your arms around him to tangle your hands into his hair.

He grabs your hips, pushing you down onto the hardness you can feel in his pants. The friction of it has you gasping and grinding down harder, trying to get friction on your clit.

He reaches down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it off of you before kissing a line down the column of your neck and occasionally sucking at the skin.

You are just starting to get into when it abruptly stops. You glance down at him only to see his eyes blown wide open, staring at something behind you. You turn around to look and see an antique mirror.

You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he lets out a scream and shoves you off his lap. You land on the floor in a dazed heap. “Oh god, the mirror, look at the mirror!,” his voice comes out in a purely panicked tone.

You glance back and still see only a mirror. “It’s just a mirror, I don’t see anything.”

“...you don’t see him?”

“See who? You’re not making any sense!”

“There’s a man,” he whispers in a low tone, like he thought the man would hear him, “and he looks so pissed.”

“You just saw a shadow of something,” you try to soothe him, “there’s nothing there.”

“HE’S THERE.” You jump as his voice suddenly gets louder. “Oh fuck, he’s…!” His voice rises into a scream before cutting off. He turns around and starts to run.

You jump up from the floor to follow him and try to calm him back down, but you discover he’s gone already as you see the front door wide open. “So much for the big, tough hero,” you mutter to yourself.

You walk back to the living room to take one last look at the mirror. You still see nothing, and yet a shiver runs down your back as you feel like someone is staring at you. And that someone is darkly amused.

~~~~

You wake up slowly, rolling over onto your other side with full intention of falling back to sleep. But you realize something feels weird. Everything feels hazy, like this is no longer your world. You open your eyes and look around, only to be shocked by what you see.

Your bedroom is entirely different. It simultaneously looks newer than the room you went to sleep in, but also significantly more old fashioned. Like you were shot back into the past of the house.

The room feels heavy and oppressive, and you feel the telltale weight of someone watching you that you’ve felt ever since you came back to the house. This time though, the energy feels eager, gleefully malicious. Like it’s won something.

You startle a bit when you notice another significant difference to the room. There is no door. No windows. The places where they’re supposed to be are nothing but blank walls. No way out of this room.

It’s with that discovery that the realization finally hits you. A dream, you think, I’m simply dreaming. A vivid dream, you reason with yourself, but still ultimately a dream. You relax a bit with this knowledge, until a shimmer appears beside you.

You spin your head around in time to see a man materialize out of nowhere, right beside the bed. He is on the tall side, with light blue hair that almost appears silver and eyes that are a striking red. He’s wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, with red shoes. He has his hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, although for some reason his pinkies are sticking out of the side of the pocket. He looks strangely indistinct, blurry around the edges, almost as if he’s see-through and not truly part of this world.

You glance up into his red eyes and are frightened by what you see in their depths. There’s a darkness there, a terrible obsession you can barely even comprehend. Just a dream, you remind yourself, whoever this is can’t do anything.

“Just a dream, huh?” His face breaks out into a smirk. Your heart drops into your stomach as you realize he read your mind. Of course he can read your mind, you reprimand yourself, this is your own dream in your own head.

“Does this feel like a dream?” He reaches towards you, ice cold fingers trailing up your arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. It feels incredibly real, and you shiver a bit at the contact. You wonder why you’re dreaming about someone you have never met. And why it feels like you know this man anyway, on a deep level beyond anything you have ever felt.

“Because you do know me.” His fingers slide even further up your arm, reaching your face. He grabs your chin and leans in.

You try to pull away from his hand, to shake your head no, but he simply tightens his grip. “You’re wrong, I don’t know you,” you hiss out, “so I don’t even know why I’m dreaming about you.”

“My name is Tomura Shigaraki.” The name strikes a cord within you, as if you knew it already, as if you’ve waited your whole life simply to hear it again. “And I have waited for you for a long time.”

He leans in to capture your lips with his own, surprising you with how cold his mouth is as he forces his tongue into your mouth before you can protest. It’s a sloppy, possessive kiss, more about claiming than any sense of romance. He pulls away from the kiss.

“You’re here because you belong to me,” he whispers, only to begin kissing down your jawline, planting open mouth kisses down your neck. “And you have been from the second I saw you.”

He licks and bites at your collarbones, before finally getting to the point where your nightshirt covers your skin. He grabs the front with his hand, and you watch in horror as it begins to turn to ash, flecks of it flying away. You notice he used all five of his fingers, and suddenly realize why he had been keeping his pinkies up.

He goes further down, kissing and licking down your chest, before getting to your breasts. He kneads one in his hand, pinching the nipple between his fingers, before taking the other nipple into his mouth and sucking. He switches off, taking the other nipple into his mouth also, sucking and twisting them until they’re both hard.

He reaches for your pajama pants, grabbing and decaying them like he did your top. You wear no bra or panties for bed, so you’re left bare and exposed to him. He chuckles darkly as his fingers run lower, swiping down your folds. “You’re so wet for me, pet,” he purrs into your ear, “it seems you missed me just as much as I missed you.” You feel like you should be embarrassed, but it seems silly to be embarrassed in your own dream.

He laughs before leaning back just enough to pull his hoodie over his head, tossing it aside. His pants and shoes follow quickly, and you can’t help but glance down. He is impressively thick, and already painfully hard, a bead of pre-cum already at the tip.

If this is a dream, you reason with yourself, then there’s really nothing wrong enjoying this, now is there? A smirk graces Shigaraki’s face. “You’re right, pet,” he coos, “it’s just a dream, so enjoy the pleasure.”

He grabs your thighs tightly, this time with his middle fingers raised, squeezing down so hard that you know there would be bruises if this wasn’t a dream. He spreads them apart roughly, before glancing down to look at your now exposed pussy. Now you do feel embarrassment, squirming a bit to try and close your legs, but he only digs his fingers even harder into the skin of your thighs.

“Don’t try to hide from me,” he growls in warning, before diving into your pussy with his tongue. He licks all the way up your folds, taking a hand and spreading them apart. He pushes his tongue up into your passage, tongue fucking you as his nose nudges against your clit and causing you to squirm.

“Please,” you whine, as you push into him harder, seeking more stimulation, which he’s quick to give to you.

He wastes no time collecting your slick with two of his fingers, pushing them into you roughly. The cold of his fingers inside of you causes you to gasp. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking as his tongue presses down hard on it. You let out a mewl, feeling your end approaching fast. It’s like everything feels so much sharper in this dream, as if you feel even more than usual.

He curves his fingers up, brushing against that spongy spot inside of you, and that’s enough to push you over the edge. You gasp as you clench down hard around his fingers, and Shigaraki doesn’t stop his relentless movements. He continues to suck your clit through your orgasm, tasting your release on his tongue as his fingers drill into your now soaking pussy. He coaxes you into a second directly after your first, causing you to squeal and go limp as your head falls back onto your pillow.

“Such a good girl for me.” He sits up with a dark smile on his face. “But since we’re so familiar with each other now, why don’t you call me Tomura?” You lift your head up and glance at him, but he’s simply giving you a neutral look while waiting for your response. You see no harm in it, so you shrug. “I guess I can do that.”

His eyes flash as he hears you agree, and a smile crosses his face. “Good, because I want that name to be the one you scream once I’m inside of you.” You shiver at his words, excitement rising up in you. Sad that it’s been so long since you’ve gotten laid that you’re excited for dream sex, you muse to yourself. You hear a snicker from beside you and choose to ignore it.

You feel the bed sink down a little, as Tomura climbs into bed with you. He puts one hand on each side of your head, straddling you on the bed. You are surprised to see that he looks more solid, less as if you can see all the way through him.

He leans down to claim your mouth again, this kiss no less passionate than the last one. He kisses you as if he means to dominate your mouth with his own, hand coming up to tighten slightly on your throat.

He nudges your legs a bit further apart with his thigh before settling himself fully in between them. He reaches between your bodies to pump his painfully hard cock in his fist, rubbing it up your soaking folds to nudge against your tender clit. “Tell me you want it, pet,” he whispers in your ear.

You let out a loud whine, trying to grind yourself down on his cock. He responds by grabbing your waist tightly, holding you firmly in place. “I can stay here forever until you beg,” a dark look crosses his face, “what about you?”

You whimper and push against his hold, still trying to impale yourself on him to get some relief for your aching pussy. “You’re so needy.” He leans down to nip at your neck, causing you to lift up your chin to give him better access. “I can help you with that.” He begins to suck on your skin, hard enough that it would leave hickies in any other circumstance.

He reaches down to your soaked folds, collecting your juices and using them to rub tight circles across your clit. You let out a moan of pleasure at finally getting his fingers where you want them. You let out a long, plaintive whine when he stops suddenly. “Please,” you finally open your mouth to say.

“Please, what,” he smirks, “I don’t know what you want unless you tell me.”

“Please touch me again,” you try to rub yourself against his fingers to get more stimulation. He completely pulls away, only to start trailing his fingers down your thigh. “Is this where you want to be touched?”

“No,” you plead, “please touch my pussy. I need you to fuck me.”

His hand continues to trail down your thighs, further away from your heated core. “Hmm, do you think that’s good enough, pet?”

You wrack your brain for what answer he is looking for, before finally settling on “please Tomura, I want you.” For a second, his gaze turns satisfied, calculating, and his shape seems to get even more solid than it was earlier.

You start to wonder why, before he begins to push his length into you, as cold as the rest of him. Then all thoughts are lost by the startling feeling of the cold against your warm walls, the contrast feeling amazing inside of you. You let out a loud mewl at his thickness stretching your pussy out, as he sinks inch by inch inside you.

He lets out a groan of pleasure as he fully sheathes himself inside you, giving a slight pause to kiss down your neck and allow you to adjust to his size. He begins at a slow pace, until he feels you wrap your legs around his back, trying to get him to move faster inside of you. “I need more, Tomura, please,” you beg.

“Who am I to deny you when you beg so cutely,” he chuckles as his pace increases, hips slamming against yours. He leans down to nibble and bite at your nipples as he tweaks the other one between his fingers, alternating between them.

He reaches one hand between your body to start rubbing your clit, causing you to clench hard around his length. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he curses under his breath as he continues to move inside you.

He lifts your hips up a bit to change angle as he continues to slam into you, seeking that spot that he knows will make you come undone around his cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your gasps and moans fill the room.

He reaches down to grip your neck without even slowing his pace inside you, still in that same hold he’s been using, with his middle finger raised from your neck. “Admit that you’re mine,” he growls darkly. Your eyes widen at the possessiveness in his tone, a sliver of unease running down your back. You shake your head no, only for him to slam into you all the way to the cervix, pleasure and pain warring inside you.

You begin to feel the room get colder, dropping degree after degree and causing you to shiver from the cold. His grin turns menacing as he puts more pressure on your neck, making it hard to breathe but not enough to cut your air off completely. “Say it,” he hisses, “tell me you’re mine.” One hand of yours flies up to his, intending to try and pry him off. The room starts to spin from lack of oxygen, and you beat your fist against his chest.

He loosens his grip just enough for you to take a huge gasping breath of air. When you say nothing, he moves to put his hands back around your neck. “Wait” you shout. He pauses, his expression turning predatory as he waits for your next words.

Even if this is simply a dream, you can feel the sense of danger from admitting this. You don’t know where this certainty comes from, but you can feel it down to your bones. But you also feel the danger of not admitting it. The two desires war within you, fighting to be the victor.

“I’m yours, Tomura,” you breathed out. His red eyes flash with delight, with a sense of dark triumph that makes you instantly regret your decision to say the words.

“Finally,” he snarled as his hips begin to snap into you again. He is even harder and rougher than before, his hands gripping you tightly as he fucks you with wild abandon. Two fingers reach down to press hard on your clit and you feel another orgasm approaching quickly.

“I want you to say my name as you cum around my cock,” he growls as he changes his angle slightly, the new position causing you to let out a wail as you tighten hard on his cock and dig your heels into his back.

“Fuck, Tomura” you cry out, as liquid fire courses through you. His hips stutter at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock, and he reaches his own end, cold seed flooding into your womb.

You both lay there for a second, trying to catch your breath, when you hear the distant sound of an alarm blaring. He lets out a dangerous growl, clutching you to his chest as if he could prevent the alarm from taking you away from him. “You won’t be getting away from me much longer,” is the last thing you hear before you wake up.

~~~~

You sit bolt upright in bed gasping, still throbbing from the remnants of an orgasm. Your eyes dart around the room, looking for Tomura, only to find nothing. The room is empty, looking the same as it did before you went to sleep. The doors and windows are back, and the suffocating presence you felt before has lessened.

God, that was one intense dream. You had never had such a lucid dream before, one that felt so completely real that it was hard to come to terms with it now that you are awake. You roll over to turn your blaring alarm off and wince in pain. You feel strangely sore, as if you slept wrong in the night. Feeling sweaty and gross, you let out a deep sigh and get up to take a shower.

After your shower, you go back into your bedroom to get dressed. You glance at the floor length mirror as you walk past, before doing a double take and turning back around to look again. You startle a bit when you see that your neck is covered in bruises and hickies. You think back to your friend during your makeout session the other night, and mentally curse him for getting too rough.

But as you glance down, you also see handprints on the side of both of your hips. You stare at them for a long time, trying to place what happened. The asshole grabbed me pretty hard when he threw me off him the other night, you reason. He obviously must have been too rough, and you resolve to admonish him later on the whole incident. You give a silent nod to yourself, confident in your reasoning.

If only you could forget that the handprint bruises have a single finger not visible on your skin.

~~~~

That day passes uneventfully, although you can’t stop thinking of the dream you had. Or the bruises on your neck. Or the handprints with only 4 fingers. You know you’re being ridiculous, that you have a logical explanation for the whole thing. But that doesn’t stop the anxiety, the worry, from building up in you.

You are also unable to reach your friend in order to give him the chewing out that he is desperately owed. You can’t figure out if he’s ignoring you, or just busy, but you’re getting absolutely no response.

You resolve to work on the house more, to distract yourself. You are still going from room to room, organizing things, separating things into keep piles, donation piles, and trash piles. You have finally worked your way into your grandma’s office and library, a place you were never able to go into before.

You stare in wonder the first time you go through those doors, unable to figure out where to look first. The room is huge, and filled with floor to ceiling books. An ornate, antique looking desk sits in the back of the room, and the windows to the left side of the desk let in the sunlight so that the room doesn’t feel overly dark.

I really wish she had let me come in here before, you think, because this room is absolutely amazing. And then reality hits you, as you let out a groan. It’s also going to take me forever to look through all this.

You venture around the library and see a varied mix of books. There is everything from classic literature and non-fiction textbooks to romance and murder mysteries. But then you come to a strange section, closest to her desk. It’s full of books about witchcraft and spells, ghosts and demons, books with titles you can’t even begin to understand and that only hurt your head to try. It’s confusing to you why your grandma would even have some of these books, but you suppose she has a little of everything in this library.

You head to the desk, sitting down in the chair before opening up the drawers. Sitting in the top of the first drawer you open are two things. One is a plain spiral bound notebook. The other is a book about ghosts. Specifically, about how to banish them. The book has clearly been well used, the spine well broken in and several bookmarks still inside.

You pause for a second before opening the notebook to the first page. In it, you find a detailed recounting of the malevolent spirit living within the house. Your own grandma’s account. You can barely comprehend everything, so many details and actions taken.

And then you come across the entry around the time of your visit years ago. You read about your grandma’s fear of you being there. The increasing obsession the ghost, Tomura Shigaraki, had of you. And her final decision to send you back, away from the ghost.

This information answers some questions and raises so many more. Your grandma was a witch. Ghosts and spirits exist. And one is obsessed with you. So obsessed, in fact, that your grandma feared for you to the point that she barely had anything to do with you after that. You wonder if she felt that staying away from you was for your own protection.

You pick the book up about banishment, hoping to find more answers, and open it to one of the bookmarks. Inside is a detailed banishment and saging ritual, used to weaken ghosts. Turning a few pages back, you look to see if it mentions what signs you should be watching for, any hints that you have a ghost obsessed with you. You don’t doubt what you read from your grandma, but a part of you is still in denial, hoping that this is all an elaborate story.

You finally find the correct page and do some reading. Unexplained sounds and feelings, check. Seeing things that aren’t there, check. Your heart stops for a second at the next section. Strange and intense dreams, including ones of a sexual nature. Definite check. Unexplained marks and bruises on your body.

You stop reading at that point, thinking back to the dream. The bruises. Those handprints. The raised fingers. You feel a chill run down your spine, the room getting noticeably colder. No matter how much you try to rationalize it, something feels off about the whole thing. You turn the page back to the description of the saging, and it looks easy enough for you to handle. And really, what can it hurt?

~~~~

You glance around at the circle of objects you had laid out around you. You feel like you should be feeling very silly right now. But you just don’t. There is this sense of impending doom you have in your bones, and yet not enough to blatantly run from the house. You have obligations here, a responsibility to your grandma. Even if this is you being silly, it will hopefully give you peace of mind.

You had found plenty of sage and salt in one of your grandmother’s cupboards. You had opened up the majority of the windows that could actually be opened so that energy could leave, and also to air the house out from the sage. You had laid out and started lighting some white candles throughout the house. And you had a bowl to catch the ash from the burning sage stick, and another bowl filled with salt.

You read in the book that you needed to light the sage and walk from room to room with it, spreading the smoke around and paying special attention to outer walls of the house where negative energy could come in. The book also said that spreading a line of salt around entryways and windows also helped to keep things out.

You decide to start in your bedroom, since that’s where the most extreme of the incidents happened. You have candles lit and salt laid in there already, so all you need is to light the sage and say the words.

As you go to grab the lighter, the lights of the house start to flicker, and the atmosphere in the air grows heavy and intense. You feel like someone is staring right into you, all the way down to your soul, and that they are not pleased. The entire house seems to take on a life of its own, as if furious with what you’re about to do.

Before you have a chance to panic, you light the sage. You move all the way around the room, holding the sage up to the corners of the room, and you feel the pressure lessen just a bit. "I cast the circle thrice about to keep the evil spirits out,” you begin to say, in as powerful of a voice as you can muster.

You leave the bedroom, going room to room in the upstairs part of the house, making sure no part is untouched. “Earth, Wind, Fire and Sea.” The furious stare is lessening and the house itself seems to be settling.

Finally, you make your way downstairs to the front entrance, the last place of the house that you haven’t gone through. You spread the smoke of the sage around this area as well, before finally saying the words to close things out. “As I will so, mote it be!" You put the sage out.

It feels like everything stops all at once. You hear an anguished scream coming from the living room, and you quickly rush that way. In the mirror your friend saw him in before, you now see him too.

He’s wearing the same outfit he was in your dream, but there is no sense of the smug, triumphant man you felt. Instead, he looks furious. Clawing at the inside of the mirror like he is in pain. And then he suddenly starts to fade, getting more and more see through until he finally vanishes entirely.

And then suddenly, the house feels like a house again. No presence, no pressure, no eyes feeling like they’re watching you. You breathe a sigh of relief as you realize that it worked. The house has never felt so light, so clear the entire time you’ve been here.

It seems to have taken a lot out of you however, leaving you feeling exhausted and hungry. You quickly make something to eat before heading to bed.

Good, you think to yourself as you walk up the stairs to your bedroom. Whatever this was is over now and I can finally finish things here in peace. He’s gone.

~~~~

You wake up slowly, feeling strangely weak and groggy. Something feels wrong, and you try to pinpoint what it is. You recall doing the saging ritual, feeling like it worked, before fixing yourself some quick dinner and heading to bed. Everything seemed fine when you went to sleep.

You try to get up, to look around, but you find that you can’t move at all. Panic hits as you try desperately to move something, anything. But you are completely paralyzed. Your head throbs and the room seems to spin the harder you try to move.

You attempt to slow your breathing, to concentrate and think through your situation, and then you notice it. You went to sleep curled up on your side, as usual, but you’re not laying like that anymore. You’re on all fours on the bed, head pressed down against the mattress, back arching upwards.

You feel movement from behind you, and you find that you are able to lift your head just enough to glance back. Instinctively, you know what you’re going to see. Who you’re going to see.

Dawning horror rises in you as your fears are confirmed, that the movement behind you is coming from the man of your dream, Tomura Shigaraki, and that he is buried to the hilt inside you. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat as you feel yourself clenching around the hard cock that is stretching you out.

“Ah, finally awake? Took you long enough, he chuckles maliciously. “The man of your dream, huh?” He pulls all the way out of you, only to slam roughly back in, wrenching a scream from you. “Sounds so romantic.”

He leans in to whisper a question into your ear. “Want to know a secret?” You want so badly to tell him no, to wake up from this nightmare, but you know there is no option.

“It was never a dream, my little plaything.” His tone is so full of sinister glee that you find yourself shivering.

You feel overwhelmed that this has already happened once before, that you were too stupid to realize it was never simply a dream.

He grabs your hips roughly and begins to set a slow pace inside you. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” he hisses out, “like you didn’t beg me to fuck you.”

Shame burns your face, and you bury your face into the pillow to try and hide your sobs. But Shigaraki simply coils his fingers inside your hair and jerks backwards. The action forces your back to arch, his cock burying even deeper inside you.

Despite yourself, you feel heat pooling in your core from his rough handling and the feeling of his thick cock sliding against your inner walls.

You let out a broken moan as he speeds up, his hips snapping into your backside, balls smacking against your clit and filling the room with the wet noises of skin slapping against skin. A coil inside you is building, and you want more than anything to squirm away. But there is no give in whatever power he has you under, and you’re forced to simply take the pleasure.

He runs a cold hand up and down your back, digging nails into the skin as the other hand trails around to where your bodies are joined. He begins to furiously rub your clit, tight and fast circles that leave you gasping and gripping at the bed sheets under your hands.

You feel your juices dripping from you, drenching his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your quivering cunt. Being unable to move is only heightening all of your other senses, and you can feel every vein on the cock inside you.

You feel yourself rapidly tightening up, your orgasm quickly approaching. You let out a loud whine as you find yourself pushing back against him, seeking more friction in spite of yourself.

“You’re about to cum, aren’t you?” He barks out a laugh. “Do it then, cum all over my cock.”

At his words, you instantly cum hard, as if your body is obeying his command. He fucks you through your orgasm before pulling out and flipping you over.

He pulls you into his lap before entering you again as your pussy is still fluttering around his cock. This new position lets him thrust up into you, the new angle causing him to slam into a spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

His pace doesn’t even slow as he begins to kiss at your neck, nipping and sucking hard as he leaves bruises down the column of your neck. His fingers begin to stroke your aching clit yet again, and you let out a shameless moan.

“Please stop,” you whimper, “too sensitive.” You feel wrung out, the room seeming to spin just a bit, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

He ignores you, gripping your hips to hold you in place as he pounds into you. You glance down at the cock disappearing inside you, and you flush with embarrassment as you see that his length is glistening with your juices.

His pace becomes erratic, thrusts starting to stutter, and you know that he’s getting close too. “Mine, mine, mine,” he chants as he finally finishes inside you with a loud groan. The feeling of cold spreading through your core is enough to push you over yet again, and you collapse against his shoulder in sheer exhaustion.

Tears run down your face as you ask him the question you’ve been wondering. “I thought I banished you.”

His chest rumbles with his laughter. “No, little plaything. Your grandmother was a powerful witch and knew what she was doing.” You stiffen up at his words.

He leans down to lick at the shell of your ear. “You, however, are weak and know nothing.”

“But then, why did you…” you trail off as it finally hits you. You let out a choked sob. “You were faking it.”

He simply smirked at you. You suddenly can’t breathe. The room is spinning even more, your head feeling like it’s going to split open. You push away from him and are surprised when he lets you.

You back away slowly, grabbing your pajamas from the floor and throwing them on. You keep an eye on him the entire time, but he doesn’t move. He simply looks at you.

You don’t know why he’s simply letting you and you don’t care. You turn around and start running.

Fuck the house, you thought, fuck your stuff, fuck everything. You have to get out while you still can. You don’t know what else Shigaraki will do to you if you stay. And...your poor grandmother. Now you know why she never moved out of the house. She stayed here for years to protect people, to protect you.

You don’t take time to pack things. In a blind panic, you run through the hallways of the house, down the stairs, making a beeline to the door. The headache you were feeling from before intensifies. As you make it to the final stair, a wave of weakness and dizziness overcomes you. You barely keep yourself upright as you grip the banister. You push yourself to the wall, using it to prop yourself up, as you take two more steps.

But the weakness is too much, and your knees buckle. You fall to the floor hard, the room spinning around you wildly. Oh god, what’s wrong with me? You begin to panic, trying to take huge gulps of air, but breathing has become so hard.

You can’t let this stop you from getting out of the house, you have to get out now. You roll yourself over onto your stomach, determined to drag yourself to the door if need be.

And then you see him. Shigaraki. He appears more solid than earlier, leaning against a doorframe with the biggest triumphant smirk you have ever seen on his face.

“Not feeling so good, are we?”

You freeze in your quest to drag yourself up as you stare at him. He begins to walk towards you, slowly, deliberately, Making you feel like prey. Like you’re being hunted

“What did you do to me?” you whisper in fear. You know deep down what is happening to you, but you don’t truly want to admit it. Want to be in denial. Want him to tell you nothing is wrong.

He lets out a twisted laugh, ignoring your question entirely. “Do you know how boring it was, with nothing but that pathetic old woman to keep me company for years? She was just familiar enough with poltergeists to guard against me, but not enough to banish me entirely.”

You had no idea your grandmother knew anything at all about spirits until you found all those books in her library, read her notes. You certainly hadn’t.

“But then you showed up at her doorstep, needing a place to stay. You intrigued me from the start. A naive little thing who had no idea what she was stepping into. And your grandmother knew that. She knew I was becoming obsessed. That I wanted to corrupt you.”

Corrupt you, you think dimly, thinking of the event just earlier. The one that started your mad dash to get out of the house. Waking up and being unable to move. Held down by his power and forced to feel pleasure you didn’t want as he took you. You shiver at the thought, revulsion and lust warring with each other.

“That’s why she sent you away from me. And that’s why I killed her.”

It feels like your heart stops beating for a second. Tears start flowing from your eyes and running down your face. “...You killed her? She died because of me?”

Your muscles cramp harshly, causing you to let out a sharp gasp of pain. You try to scoot back from the malignant ghost that is approaching you, the murderous ghost that took the last of your family from you. But you’re too tired and too dizzy to manage it. You lay your head back against the floor.

“Yeah, I killed her,” he lets out a harsh laugh. “And yeah, that’s why she died. I warned her of the consequences of what would happen if she didn’t bring you back. She didn’t listen.”

A haze is descending over your eyes. Everything is becoming distant, except for Shigaraki’s form, his voice, his words.

“And then, after what I did to get you back here, you were going to try and get rid of me,” he growls in a low, dangerous tone. “You don’t seem to understand that you belong to me.”

He approaches where you lay, immobilized, unable to do anything but watch as he slowly sits down on the floor beside you. He reaches over, grabbing your body and situating it into his lap in a princess carry.

Your muscles convulse, your head spins, and you find yourself whimpering from the pain. He grins as he runs his fingers through your hair, making his way down your jawline to cup your face.

“You’re dying, little pet. And quickly, at that. The things you can find in old houses is truly amazing. Like the arsenic I found in a forgotten corner of the basement.”

Your veins turn to ice, the haze clouding your mind lifting just a bit. The terror pushes all other emotions out, as if you’re a being of pure fear and panic, as if you’ve never known anything else.

Your eyes widen and you try to shake your head, before the dizziness forces you to stop. “No no no, please no. Please tell me you’re joking, trying to scare me.”

He huffs out a soft laugh. “Would I joke about this? It’s true. I sensed you might do something stupid and I was right. I slipped the poison into your food after you tried to weaken me.”

You try to push away, to get out of his arms, but you’re too weak. He simply puts a bit more pressure into his hold to keep you in place. The mere effort is enough to leave you panting for breath.

“What do you mean to accomplish? If I’m dead…”. Your stomach cramps again, harder this time, and your sentence cuts out in a pained gasp.

He gives a truly wicked laugh, and his lips curl up in a smirk. “If you’re dead, you’re trapped here. Just like I am.”

More tears roll down your face. “I don’t wanna die,” you whimper, “and I don’t want to be stuck here with you.” It’s hard to keep your eyes open any more. They begin to slowly close as the room darkens.

He shifts you further into his lap, stroking his hands through your hair and kissing the tears running down your face. The gentle gesture is so at odds with the fact that he’s the one killing you.

“You have no choice in the matter,” he chuckles, “it’s happening whether you want it or not. It was only a matter of time anyway, you just sped up my timeline.”

Your muscles begin to seize up, and seeking some sort of comfort from the pain, you turn your head into the chest of your murderer. “I hate you,” you whimper, before grasping his hoodie, burying your face into it to muffle your crying.

His arms wrap around you more solidly, hand coming around the back of your head to cradle it. “That’s okay, pet. I have all the time in the world to make you love me.” The last thing you hear before your eyes close for the final time is Shigaraki whispering in your ear “after all, we’ll be together forever.”

~~~~

Tag: @monst, @secondhand-trash, @animewh0re, @thewheezingwyvern, @legend-of-frost, @mothwithteeth, @mhafanfics19, @kazooli, @lildreamer93, @yaoyorozuwrites, @dee-madwriter

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asphyxiateher · 3 years

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Only Monsters Come Out at Night *Chapter 8 Update*

Summary: Desdemona has a nightmare that sends her spiraling into the arms of her beloved mistresses but when she's turned away, she realizes that nightmare was a warning of what was to come. An unexpected family reunion finally makes Desdemona beg for death. A/N: Thank you to everyone who stuck it out with this story this far; I know the last chapter wasn't too exciting but as I played the Resident Evil remake on my switch, I was inspired to drum up a little more excitement with this chapter and the next few chapters to come, which will be the last!

There’s a long, dark corridor that is accompanied by the acquainted sound of silence outside of Desdemona’s door and the darkness seeping into the room is becoming too much to bear. It feels like she is dreaming but these days, her nightmares and her reality have blended in so well together that it’s become nearly indistinguishable to tell apart what’s actually happening to what she could be imagining. It’s terrifying. She shouldn’t have become accustomed to what she’s gotten comfortable around lately, especially with everything that’s happened ever since she had been taken to Lady Alcina’s castle. Desdemona feels the familiar hunger for company creep up on her as she sits against the wall on her bed with her legs crossed, a journal and pen in hand. Loneliness was something she was used to, something she begged for when socializing drained her of her energy but now it was like a stranger to her. She no longer liked the idea of being alone in this gigantic castle that was made for its vampiric inhabitants and the monstrosities that lingered every which way. The connection she unintentionally formed with Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela and was ultimately made stronger through their unusual ways of showing affection is suddenly severed and she can no longer sense them nearby. This was very troubling. Although she wasn’t feeling very well, a wave of nausea causing her to lose consciousness earlier, Desdemona summoned the strength to get out of bed. This desire to be around the wretched creatures that ruined her life both shocked and comforted her, the inner conflicting thoughts in her mind constantly pulling her in one direction over the other was exhausting but rationality had no place in House Dimitrescu. Her hands shook violently as she reached for the doorknob, her knees nearly going out when she dared to take a few cautious steps outside of her room. The grand designs of the castle were dulled by the strangeness of the dim lighting of every room. This was very unusual, what was going on? Beneath her, she could hear one of the sisters scream in agony while Lady Dimitrescu rages about the deaths of her daughters. No. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t be dead, she felt them nearby just a few minutes ago! How could this be possible? Panicking at the idea of losing her mistresses, Desdemona rushes down the polished stairwells of the castle. She can’t sense them, hear them, or feel them through their bond and her heart aches at the idea of having to go on without them. When she finally reaches the ground level, she finds Alcina looming over the corpse of an unknown intruder. Desdemona has always been afraid of Lady Dimitrescu, but for some unknown reason, she felt compelled to comfort her despite not knowing what was going on. She carefully approaches the statuesque woman and gently tugs at her sleeve, and when Alcina turns around and looks down at Desdemona, she gives out a sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s you darling! This night has been dreadful, and I’m not certain at how you’ll take the news but let me assure you that I am so glad to see that at least you weren’t harmed in all of this. Let me show you who was responsible for the deaths of my daughters; together, you and I shall take vengeance against the human organization that was responsible for this.” Alcina declares as she wraps an arm around Desdemona, pulling her closer before turning her around to examine the corpse at their feet. Desdemona’s jaw drops at the sight of her own body laying on the floor nearly intact. Her skin was nearly flawless, save for the deep wounds inflicted upon her by Alcina. She lay there dead before her very eyes, her lifeless gray eyes reflecting a dark creature she could not recognize. Startled, Desdemona turns on her heel to find a mirror, and when she finds the nearest restroom, her hands grip the sink in front of her. She cannot recognize what she’s staring at but she knows it’s her reflection, just not what she expected at all. Instead of beautifully long flowing dark brown hair, she sees a matted mess of dark hair tangled in some sort of wild updo, cold, glowing yellow eyes and when she opens her mouth to scream at the sight, she coughs up blood. She goes into a brief coughing fit, and eventually she begins to throw up, but what comes out of her isn’t bile. Oh no, she threw up a sticky ball of insects and maggots glued to each other, the creatures clinging to each other in their frenzied movements. The sight alone is enough to wake Desdemona from her slumber. Desdemona wakes in a cold sweat, her heart hammering at the implications of what she’s become so she quickly examines herself. She runs to the nearest full body length mirror and she’s relieved that she sees herself in her nearly natural state. Bedraggled dark brown hair, terrified gray eyes and the occasional love bite and bruise left behind by the mistresses she’s bonded to. Her skin, while still tawny-brown, was starting to gray out but for the most part, she still seemed normal. What caught her attention in that moment, however, was the sound of Daniela’s laughter coming from downstairs in the dining room. Any logic and rational thought once again flees her mind as she’s comforted by the fact that her mistresses were still alive and well. That’s all that mattered to her and so she rushes out of her room to interrupt the important meeting that Bela had warned her not to interrupt. She didn’t care, she just needed to know that they were safe and sound. Without dressing up like she’s supposed to when she wanders around the castle unsupervised, she glides down the railing of the grand staircase as she follows the sound of a private conversation being had. Desdemona bursts into the living area, her heart rate picking up at the sight of Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela all casually enjoying their special blend of blood wine with a guest she wasn’t familiar with. Bela is caught off guard at the sight of Desdemona waltzing into the meeting in a revealing nightgown but is even more thrown when the smaller girl practically lunges at her and wraps her arms around her. Cassandra looks a little miffed that Desdemona decided to greet her sister first but then she sees how quickly Bela is becoming agitated with the intrusion so she steps in and tries to peel Desdemona off of her. “Oh thank god you’re alright! I had the worst nightmare that you all were killed and there was nothing I could do about it -,” Desdemona begins but is quickly shushed when a hard slap to the face reminds her that they were not alone. “Desdemona, what the hell are you talking about? Of course we’re alright but what on earth are you doing here? I instructed you to stay in your room and mind your business, did I not?” Bela asks angrily as she shoves Desdemona away from her. Cassandra steadies her and throws her sister a knowing look, nodding off to the side as if to remind her that they were in the company of Donna Beneviento. Daniela merely looks amused and continues talking to Donna and Angie as if nothing unusual was happening. It was then that Desdemona realizes that they were indeed in the middle of an important conversation with the lord Bela wished to make a partner out of in either ousting Mother Miranda or finally bringing her a suitable host to revive her daughter. Desdemona looks ashamed and stares at her clenched fists, biting her tongue as Bela continues to give her a tongue lashing. “Look at you wandering around House Dimitrescu looking like a common whore without any dignity. I could have sworn my mother and I taught you better than this but nevertheless, you owe the lovely Donna Beneviento an apology. Once this meeting is over, we will go over what is distressing you. None of your concerns are more important than what is currently being discussed, I’m sorry to say.” Bela admonishes Desdemona before she turns to offer Donna a sincere apology. Donna, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in what Bela had to say as she observed the human standing quietly before her. It was a fascinating scene unfolding before her very eyes. “Oh ho ho, look at the poor girl, she’s ready to cry. What happened, Bela? Is she no longer your favorite?” Angie, the doll, said out loud as she giggled. “Lovers tend to have spats, but you wouldn’t know much about that, would you?” Bela growls, looking as though she were ready to strangle both the doll and the ventriloquist. Donna scoffs, shaking her head before settling on an equally irritating comment. “You mistreat your toys, they’re more than welcome to stay home with me and keep me company. I can promise you I’m more pleasant than your mistresses.” Donna replies quietly, her face hidden behind her veil but even Desdemona could hear the smugness in her tone. This time, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela pitch a fuss over the unnecessary comment and find themselves squabbling over a silly matter. Angie, the doll, is delighted and laughs maniacally when the sisters begin to fight with one another. Donna was clearly amused but said nothing as she continued to watch Desdemona fret over her actions in the background. Desdemona begins to shut out the banter as the remnants of her decaying mind makes its final stand in her mind. ‘Get out…while you still can…the opportunity won’t come again. They’re distracted, their mother is away…you can go home. Get help…please leave…please do it. For your sake, for Desmond’s sake, and for Veronica’s. Run away…while you still can.’ Desdemona blinks, her rational state of mind completely taking over for a moment before it slips into nothingness again. She turns to find the doll named, Angie, staring up at her while the ventriloquist responsible for the trickery, observes her from afar. Desdemona used to be frightened of dolls, especially of the porcelain collection her mother obtained from her grandmother but when she gives Angie a once-over, she finds that she isn’t crept out at all by the appearance of the doll but is comforted by both her and Donna’s presence. It was strange but with her life constantly taking a turn for the worse every other second of her life, she supposes she shouldn’t be surprised she’s taking a liking to the friends of her mistresses as well. “I apologize for the intrusion. I had a nightmare that I’ll eventually recover from, but I hope my childish antics didn’t embarrass you further, Bela. I’ll take my leave and I won’t bother you again.” Desdemona finally says almost robotically as she makes her way back to castle entrance. She’s ready to go back to her room when something terrifying happens. Her eardrums suddenly pop, an incessant buzzing sound following the sound of brief ringing. Desdemona cannot hear anyone or anything so when she looks up to see the mouths of Cassandra and Daniela moving as if they were speaking to her, she confirms the temporary loss of hearing. Panic grips her, her anxiety on the rise when the others notice the drastic change in behavior. She starts to scream when she feels her brain begin to throb in pain, as if a knife were slowly dividing her brain in half and it sends Desdemona running. She’s gripping her head as she runs into walls, end tables, statues, and portraits; nothing seems to stop her even though she has no idea where she’s going or how she’s even leading herself anywhere with the immense amount of pain she’s in. She still hears that incessant buzzing noise in her head and it’s driving her crazy. She can’t hear the girls call out to her in worry. The only thing that she can hear is the sound of something buzzing around inside of her. She remembers that Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra are not immune to the cold air during the winter and if this is the same bug that they seem to be made out of, maybe some fresh air will do her some good and kill whatever it is that’s inside of her. She thinks it’s a great idea; her mistresses, once they see her heading outside towards the gardens and vineyard, think otherwise. “Desdemona, no, don’t do this! Don’t go where we cannot follow, please!” Cassandra cries out to her, unable to go past the point of no return. The fresh, wintry cold air brings immediate relief to Desdemona as she pushes past the doors that led to Lady Dimitrescu’s enormous vineyard. Her ears pop again, the sound of the girls screaming for her to return to the castle can finally be heard and Desdemona feels good again. She chuckles to herself, thinking she overdramatized her pain but what she had just gone through was something she had never experienced prior. It was incredibly painful and there was no other way to describe it other than it felt like her brain was melting out of nowhere, the left and right side of her brain being divided by a painful knife. She thought she was going to die. When she glances up from where she had been doubled over in pain, she finds herself wishing that she did die from whatever kind of attack that was. Yes, she’s staring a Alcina’s glorious, infamous vineyard sprawled out beautifully before her and covered in snow but what she sees staring back at her from not so far away is an eerily familiar scarecrow. Desdemona hears that incessant buzzing noise in her head again as she slowly approaches the scarecrow, her breath growing heavy. Her eyes widen in complete shock when she recognizes the clothes that the scarecrow is wearing, but it isn’t just what it’s wearing that appalls Desdemona, it’s who it is. It was Desmond. They never told Desdemona what they did with his remains. Sure, they might have mentioned drinking his blood and devouring some of his flesh but that wasn’t the case at all. Here he was, skin stitched together and his beautiful curly hair clumped on top of what has to be his skull living in the afterlife as a scarecrow. They hollowed him out, dumping out his insides completely and disposing that mess in a way Desdemona no longer wanted to think about and turned him into this! Tears prickling in her eyes, a whole new fresh wave of pain consumes her entire being. She drops down to her knees again, feeling completely defeated as she takes in the immaculate detailing of how they put his flesh back together to make this monstrosity. The only thing that was missing was his eyes; otherwise, she was looking directly at her twin reincarnated. Her fingernails are beginning to frost over, the stinging cold making her feel as if she were dipped in a frozen pond and pulled back out again. None of that mattered to her. Her heart rate was beginning to slow down, the buzzing in her head growing more and more frantic but she can’t tear her eyes away from her dead twin. Her body can no longer tolerate the cold that it used to and the longer she stayed outside, she knew her body would begin to shut down. Maybe this was finally it for Desdemona, maybe this is the way she wanted to go out and reunite with her loved ones again. She just wanted it all to end because her life no longer mattered. She sees a rather large shadow approach her from behind and she knew that it was too good to be true. She was so close yet death would continue to evade her. She struggles to turn her head, the ice buildup on her skin making it difficult to do so and finds a very displeased Alcina Dimitrescu staring down at her. “Looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands and speed up your transformation, little one. Miranda is eager to find out if you’ll do or not.” With that said, Alcina raises her hand and long, sharp claws begin to form. Desdemona closes her eyes as she braces herself for death and when she feels something sharp puncture her chest, she blacks out completely.

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #RE Village #RE8 #mine #only monsters come out at night #chapter update #chapter 8 #Lady Dimitrescu's daughters x ofc #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x ofc #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x ofc #daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x ofc #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #donna beneviento #angie the doll

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florencwrites · 3 years

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ever since phoenix 〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay has earned himself the name dreamboat, short; dream. a mcyt spin on macgyver where reader deals with remnants of trauma.

(!) blood, mentions of emotional trauma, kidnapping (!)

"Soooo," Jack trailed cautiously. He was not a man of deliberation per se, however, he knew when a certain level of carefulness was needed. This was one of those times. "How are you and the missus?"

"Fine." Brief and effective. That's Clay for you. "Now is not exactly the time for relationship advice, Jack."

"So you agree, you need relationship advice." He scanned the room again, gun tight in his grip; leading his gaze. "Boxed yourself there, pal."

"Let's talk about this after I've disarmed this, alright?" A huff of annoyance from the crouching blonde, his face a mere few inches from the ticking device. A device that normally would've taken him barely a minute to take apart, but with his good friend hanging from his lips; it took a little longer than expected.

Jack, in response, cleared his throat loudly, raising his eyebrows in mock warning. "I'm just saying, something's not right and maybe genius over here needs some help." He rolled out the tension in his shoulders, his gun still pointed at the entrance. He shot his eyes back to his friends after his lack of reply, only to see him dropping the now useless device. "I don't need your help, we're doing fine."

Clay rose to his feet, dusting off his pants before pushing past Jack to head for the reinforced door. Of course, being the armed one of the two, Jack pushed himself back in front of him, clearing the hallways before continuing their journey through the complex. Their backs pressed against the rough concrete, bullet holes still decorating them almost entirely. Reaching a junction, Jack lowered himself slightly before peeking his head around the corner. "Clear."

The pair moved onto the next hallway, Clay mirroring his companion's steps almost entirely. "Come on, Dreamboat, just admit there's some things that little brain of yours just can't wrap itself around."

"There are many things my brain can't comprehend, love isn't one of them." He rolled his eyes, knowing fully well that Jack had his back turned to him anyways. "It's just chemistry, simple."

"You're wrong, I'm telling you." A sing-songy tone to his words, Jack taunted the blonde some more. "Chemistry's just the first step, my friend. After that, it's all up to you."

"We've got company."

"Fine, do your thing. We're talking about this later." A promise, one made while firing several rounds of bullets into enemy lines.

"You might be the dumbest genius I've ever met." Sheer annoyance laced the older man's tone, immediately tracing his words with a swirling sip of lukewarm beer. The other side of the dialogue, too, showed serious signs of irritation. A drawn-out groan while throwing his head back, Clay replied, "Fine, I'll bite. Why?"

"Well, where's the lady of the house?" He threw out the bait. However, Jack had neither been a man of patience, so as Clay opened his mouth to answer his rhetorical question, Jack already intercepted him, "Bet she's real tired, huh?"

"Yeah, how'd you- Nevermind." He glanced over the look on his friend's face, soon realizing he bit right into his hook.

A sigh, a genuine one. Reaching forward to lean his elbows onto his knees, staring into the flames of the firepit they had grown so used to. "So, what does she sleep in?"

"Dude! Gross, I'm not answering that."

"Bet it's that beige shirt of yours, right? The one with the big red letters." He never once averted his gaze to meet Clay's, keeping them entirely trained on the fire. Clay furrowed his eyebrows, his emerald eyes slowly making their way to the bottom left corner of his vision, a tell he often showed when deliberating his next move. He then, too, leaned forward to rest on his knees. Once again, mirroring Jack's motions. "It- it is."

"Please just tell me what's going on, Jack." And at last, his normally monotone features showed a glint of desperation.

"It's the last shirt you wore." Another swig of beer landed itself in his mouth, quickly swallowing before continuing, "You wanna know why she's always so tired when you see her?"

"I'll give you a hint, it's not Lyme's." Finally, a light chuckle from his side, followed by a faint hum in affirmation. "She doesn't sleep when you're gone, dude."

Finally, the pair met eyes. A saddened shimmer in both their glances, Jack continued, "All the signs are there."

A nearly audible click in the genius blonde's head. "She's been having nightmares."

"She's been having nightmares." Jack affirmed for him once again, "Trust me, I know what they look like."

They shared a pause of breath, allowing themselves to take a deep breath simultaneously. How could he have been so stupid, of course, she was having nightmares. All the things she went through back in April, all those questions he was forced to leave unanswered. The exhaustion radiating from her pale skin, for weeks now. Jack was right, she had been sleeping in his shirts constantly, sometimes even once he was sure he had put in the laundry basket just hours before. "God, I should have known."

"There's nothing you could've done, Dream." Another sweet reassurance, one that didn't mean a whole lot to him right now.

"I could've known- I should've known." He abruptly pushed himself from his seat, leaving his emptied bottle by the pit. "She doesn't feel safe here."

"I don't think that's it, mate, I think she just feels unsafe anywhere." He followed his friend's face to where it was now stood next to him on the patio, peering up to try and meet his eyes. "Anywhere that's not with you, probably."

"She doesn't deserve any of this." Pacing slowly between the pit and the wall a few feet from him, the man was wrecking himself with guilt, already. Quickly, Jack intervened, noticing his friend's 'spiraling look' from miles away. "Hey! Hey, hey. No one deserves this alright?"

"She should've never been there.." Running a hair through his locks, Clay sat back down by the fire. His head now covered by his hands, leaning forward to hide his features entirely in guilt and perhaps shame, too.

"That," A gentle pat landed itself on his back by Jack as he used his other hand to finish off his beer. "That, I agree with you, pal."

Sheer terror painted her face that day, bound and gagged in some concrete box. In the movies, they always say how it was 'cold and eerie', and however ghostly the situation might have been, there was no cold in this room. Not a single cooling breeze, just pure and unfiltered heat. The concrete was entirely warmed up, too, the only thing that refreshed her even in the slightest was the chilling nature of her shackles, the ones that restrained her to the sticky leather chair she was stuck in.

She assumed it was leather, she had no real way of knowing. Her vision had been blocked by some kind of rag, a different texture to the one that was balled up in her mouth. The duct tape used to secure it in place was pulling at her skin, uncomfortably so.

So, with her hands bound, vision blocked and mouth gagged, there were but two senses left to her. Three, if you include the dooming shadow of possible death that loomed in her head. She'd do anything to just hear his voice right now, he'd know what to do.

Instead of his voice, there was a soft ticking in the room. More specifically, on her abdomen. A scorching hot box was tightened to her abdomen, burning the feeling of its ticking into her mind. She was sure there'd been no way this thing was actually that hot, but the idea of it being stuck to her, it killing her, was enough to leave scars on her stomach.

The other sense that was left unaltered, was her nose. Her sense of smell. Iron, mold, sweat. The last two were logical. She'd been locked in there for hours, in the absolute heat of southern America, there was no way she wasn't sweating up a storm. Mold, she was probably in a basement somewhere, her feet had given away the concrete flooring. But iron, iron wasn't something you usually smelt. Rust, maybe. But this was metallic, and it wasn't from her shackles. If it were, she'd have smelt it was before now.

The screeching of a metal pipe on the concrete walls shook her, the gag keeping her from letting out a loud squeal. Someone was in here with her, for the first time in hours, someone was in here with her. A few faint tuts, heavy footsteps carrying themselves around her perimeter.

A sharp blade running itself along her cheek, barely not breaking skin. "Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik tok."

She scrunched her eyes even tighter as a hand dropped onto her head. The single thing that brought her comfort right now was the fact that there was no way this lunatic would detonate the bomb on her abdomen while in the room with her. "Wonder what's taking him so long, aren't you?"

He stopped talking, his steps carrying him back to wherever he came from. However, his taunting continued in her head for the coming hours she was left to fend for her own. Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik tok.

What's taking him so long?

She struggled immensely against her restraints, abruptly having been awoken by cold hands on her sides. The man's hands hadn't ever been this cold before, they were horribly sweaty and warm, almost to a sticky extent. "Shhhh."

Familiarity washed over her body, her muscles almost instantly untightening at the sound of him. "You have to stay still for me, okay? I have to get this thing off you first."

"Dream, unblind the poor girl first, will ya?" Jack's mellow voice called out from a few feet beside her. The rag was gently pulled from eyes. His assuring tone filled her ears, his comforting face inches from hers. God, she'd never been this happy to see Jack. "There she is."

She tried desperately to get some words out, however, her mouth was still filled with cloth, and while hesitant, she knew there was probably a good reason they hadn't taken it off yet. "Water! Water, get her some water, she's gonna need it." Jack was quick to order one of the agents to get her something to drink, knowing the feeling very well, having been kidnapped a dozen times back in his day.

"It's connected to another device," Clay exclaimed from before her, his hands very carefully working around the wires connecting her to this bomb. For some reason, it had been scarier in her mind, when she hadn't been able to see it. Now, seeing it rest on her stomach didn't scare her nearly as much as the menacing ticking that had haunted her for so long. "Riley, do we know who's behind this?"

A faint hum from the wire in his ear, she couldn't decipher it. Meanwhile, Jack was rattling her shackles, trying to at least free her hands. However, according to her boyfriend, not a very good idea, "Don't!"

"What? You scared she'll strangle you?" A mocking choice of words from her dear friend, almost allowing her to chuckle. The drought in her throat, however, still wouldn't allow her to make a single peep. "No, Jack, taking off the chains would detonate this entire thing, like the gag."

Jack formed an 'o' with his mouth, shooting his eyes around the room in slight embarrassment, "Where's that water the lady ordered?"

For some reason, the minutes after they had found her felt impossibly longer than the hours she had spent alone. Nevertheless, after 24 minutes exactly, there was a breakthrough. His voice soft, gentle, Clay carefully removed his fingers from the device while simultaneously asking for Jack to put his back on."Okay, try again."

A loud snap and several clangs later, her hands were freed, eyes crunched in expectancy of death, it didn't seem to come. Hastily, she clawed at her mouth, only now realizing the rag had been encased in metal bars and colored wires. Dream carefully lifted the contraption from her face, immediately letting her fall into his arms sobbing.

And so, he let her cry. Bawl her eyes out, drown out the sheer terror she must've felt during these hours he had lost her. He ran his arms around her back, pulling her impossibly tight into his own torso. "You're okay, you're okay."

"I've got you, I've always got you."

The night following his conversation with Jack was the first night Clay had seen her cry since that day.

She sobbed into his arms as he assured her that she would always be safe, no matter where he was or what happened between them. He would always keep her safe.

The nightmares disappeared when she was with him because there had never been a doubt in her mind that she was safe when she was with him. She slept incomparably well the first days after every mission, because even if he wasn't in the bed next to her; she knew he was there. She slept well, because the smell of his shirt encased her every sense, rendering it impossible for her to not feel safe, with his cologne evident lingering through her sheets.

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tellywoodtrash · 3 years

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immj2 16 + 17.12.20 lb

16.12.20

riddhima having completely opposite reaction to me, on discovering ki iss shakal ke do do bande ghoom rahein hain dharti pe.

hubs praising wifey’s intellect (he has a real low bar huh) in attached note and saying ki yeh birthday kamaaaaaaaal ka hoga.

meanwhile kabir has come back to investigate the trap door. bhai you keep saying “policewaala hoon, policewaala hoon” but i don’t see you actually going to work. “policewaala hoon” is this show’s “main AAAAADIIIINAAAAAGIN hoon!!!!!!!!!!!!!” to which literally all of us just respond, haan toh???? nahi matlab, sach mein.......... TOH??? hum kya hi karein iss bohut hi obvious yet useless information ke saath?

A+ hide and seek game going on here.

lmaooooooo iski shakal dekho, on being interrogated. he’s suchhhhhhhhhhhhh a shady fuck.

oh boy she said the word that shouldn’t ever be said to tellywood MLs..... “warna”....... it only leads to one thing:

yup. this fuckery.

“tumhe har baat kyun jaanni hoti hai??? nahi bataana.” lmao well, when you put it like that......

some ainvayi ka blah blah meant to deter her but only makes her more determined. coz hubs knows wifey veryyyyyyyyyy well by now.

also he just said that the raaz is “khoobsoorat”. so this has a positive result ultimately i think?

andddd he dropped a new aag metaphor: “aag dekhne mein khoobsoorat hai lekin usmein haath daalna akalmandi ka kaam nahi hai.” (remember when he told her as vansh wrt the whole ragini thing ki “aag mein haath daalogi toh aag ko kuch nahi hota, lekin tumhare haath jal jaayenge.”)

also lmao kab karti hai riddhima akalmandi ka kaam????? yes MO is literally just “is it questionable and are people telling me RIDDHIMA NOOOOOO? THEN RIDDHIMA YESSSSSSSSS.”

so of course she’s like fuck you i wanna know at alllll costs.

“yeh raaz tumhe ek aisi duniya mein le jayega riddhima jahaan se laut ke aana tumhare liye impossible hai.” ....... so exactly like being stuck in this house/family????? pfttttt, warn her with something she HASN’T been dealing with everyday for the past 6 months.

some more dumb mysterious metaphors and he finally leaves.

NOW WHO THE FUCK IS WATCHING HER FROM OUTSIDE?????? OUFF THIS FUCKING HOUSE IS FILLED WITH CREEPS AND PERVERTS.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MIRROR KE PEECHE THERE’S ONE ITTTU SA SAFE MADE SPECIALLY JUST TO HOLD ONE (1) THIN PIECE OF PAPER. AMAZING.

OH?

OHHHH??????

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

meanwhile idhar someone badeeeeeee safaai se maarofied the photo. ok you were spying on her from outside and knew that there was a compartment behind the mirror. BUT HOW DID YOU CRACK THE PASSWORD ON FIRST TRY??????????? IDHAR MERE KO APNA HI GMAIL TUMBLR INSTA PASSWORD 3 BAAR ENTER KARNE HOTE HAIN BEFORE IT LETS ME IN.

“happy birthday, Dollar Biwi!” mmmmhmmm got you all wet under the shower in black, Happy Birthday to all of us, indeed!!!!!

“i hope tum hamesha aise hi girti raho aur main pakadta rahoon!” snort. vihaan babu, permanantly yahaan ghar basaane ka plan banaa liya hai kya???? not even pretending anymore that he’s not in this mess for saath janam.

lmao she’s like fuck you i just wanna know the secret.

smarmy fuck is like hmmmmmm, birthday ke din bataaa hi doon kya? fucking tease.

he’s like ok fine, in the evening, at the party you’ll get a gift that’ll be your answer.

she’s like if you break your promise and don’t give me the answer?

“toh koi aur de dega.” this fuckerrrrrrrrrrr. he playing 3d chess, he fully knows what’s happening outside with the picture!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

she’s like pls no one else knows this secret, i have hidden it verrrrrrrrrrrry safely; and he’s like, if there’s one thing i learnt from vansh, it’s that the walls of VR mansion are neverrrrrrr safe. kabhi bhi kuchhhhhhhh bhi ho sakta hai.

Chehra Appreciation Break.

she runs out and........... the photo is goneeeeeeeee.

riddhima constantly wanting to beat up/murder vihaan is such a Mood lmao.

anyway he beat her with the powers of Logic. and Handsomeness. mostly Logic tho.

so if he didn’t do it................. she concludes ki obviously it was kabir.

ok but what if it was ANGRE, who’s milofied with boss to give bhaabiji an excellent birthday surprise???? he too knows howwwwwww much sis loves to do jasoosi and play these games. MAN JUST GIMME MY V/ANGRE BROTP BACKKKKKKKKKK.

anyway, birthday surprise has now turned into a headache and hubs like oh nooooooo, this is not what i wanted???? i wanted her to be happpppy and enjoy herselffffff.

girl back at bappa’s sharan. coz where else to go, really?

oh shit dadi’s here ranting and raving about knowing the truth. ohhhhhhhhh boy.

dadi has decided to make herself the birthday candle that riddhima has to blow out.

man, the matriarch of the house is throwing kerosene all over herself and everyone’s just standing around watching, instead of intervening in any useful way. everyone just want that raisinghania $$$$$$$ huh?

oh. dream tha. this bloody show and its never-ending dream sequences.

waise bhi iss set pe roz 4-5 cake aate hi honge, toh unko bas stack kar liya, ho gaya kaam. production mein se extra budget nahi nikaalna pada iske liye.

V has specialllllllllllll gift for Dollar Biwi. yeh hua na gifttttttt. yisssssss gimme that USD, sonnnnnnn. exchange rate 73 touch kar gaya hai and the way it’s going........ it’s gonna reach even higher soon.

aslkjdaslkjdlaskjdlkaslksajd riddhima and kabir’s reactions. they’re honestly so fucking done with this asshole.

ishani like since when you have such a sense of humour, bhai????? arre tha hamesha se hi, tum logon ne mauka hi kab diya hai bande ko joke maarne ka? har waqt kuch na kuch kalesh chalta rehta hai iss ghar mein jo bechaare ko sametna hota hai.

kabir adding to anxiety with this birthday will be so special blah blah blah.

and now the cake R cut just exploded with red liquid that ishani injected into it. birthday ke din hi tum sabhi manhooson ko bachchi pe bhadaas nikaalni hai???? ek din toh baksh do bechaari ko.

LOL DADI KNOWS IT’S ISHANI AND SHE’S JUST LIKE

sab ka cake khaana khilaana blah blah.

hubs takes a moment to actually wish her sincerely with mushy eyes and soft voice. sweet.

ouff one moreeeeee surprise. aaj shaam birthday party. organized by kabir. greaaaaaat.

riddhima’s face = mine when i too am forced into social events that i have less than zero interest in attending.

lmaooooooooooooo kabir called him “vansh bhai” and the slowwwwww turn V did to look at him like ‘bitch what you say??????’

snark snark snark.

kabir rolling out some tray and......... the episode ends. god this is so fucking boring so much buildup to a bloody partyyyyyyyyyyy. just get it the fuck over with my god!!!!!!!

———————————————————————

17.12.20

K’s presented her with a buncha envelopes to choose the theme of the party or some such shit and riddhima’s like the fucker had put the photo in one of these for sureeeeeee.

Chehra(s) Appreciation Break

anyway she picked one envelope and there’s a letter from K saying i have the secret you were hiding, it’ll be out in the party, blah blah.

interesting thing is that this letter is written in hindi. the letter from vansh was hindi transliterated in english. hmmmmmm. i mean, lol, this has no larger bearing on the plot, just an observation i’m making and wondering about the show’s choices.

lmao he did this lil eyebrow thing that just neeeeeeded to be giffed. i love this face so much!

hubs is sensing something is realllllllllll wrong and taking charge of the conversation and declares party ka theme colour is gold, and that riddhima is gonna look hot in black and gold. uh....... ok?

everyone disperses and V is warning K ki if you fuck this party up in anyyyyyyyyy way that makes the birthday girl upset..............

vishal is making sooooooooo many amazing gif-worthy faces today. about time i make a set on him.

riddhima turning K’s room uthal-puthal to find the photo and obviously failsssss.

and he’s here with a bouquet of balloons and OMG BURSTING THEM ONE BY ONE LIKE THIS HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

lotsaaaaaaaa threatening blah blah and riddhima is trying to reason with him and............ god i’m so bored.

“tum na riddhima bohut hi ajeeb type ki ladki ho. jis kaam ke liye mana kiya jaata hai tum EXACTLY wohi karti ho!!!!” hahahahahaha both her boytoys should meet up over a drink about this very special characteristic of her’s. they’ll find they have more in common than they think.

lmao literally noone else can make a party horn and the birthday song seem this hilariously threatening. i love him so muchhhhh.

behen is now crying in front of vansh’s photu. you know, to spice things up a lil.

saw some random photo frame sitting there, and just opened it and happened to find a bank transfer reciept from vansh to vihaan. for 5 crore. and on the 8th of december, 2017. ok but my question is what about the frame said ki open this and find exactly what you’re looking for behind the picture???????

storming off to find V and............

lo ji aaj ke girrne ka karyakram shuru.

lmao the contrast in reactions.

“kismat tumhe har pal, har kadam mere aur kareeb laa rahi hai, riddhima.”

he’s being very cute in this scene. he genuinely does want her to have a good birthday, it seems.

unffffffffff. aise na mujhe tum dekho................

lmao she’s like you are the singlemost biggest fucking reason of all my stress, birthday or otherwise. wtf vansh give you 5 crore for????/ he’s like patience lil birdy, the answers are your birthday present. it’ll come in good time.

she’s yelling at him for being so chill when kabir is about to expose them and he’s just putting it all on her saying you’re the one going down for it anyway. and maybe if you’d told me about that mysterious letter earlier, i coulda helped you. SO BLOOOOODY ANNOYING HE IS.

anyway he’s like don’t worry i’ll handle it. but you have to give me apni zindagi ki ek khoobsoorat shaam. which............... gross. didn’t have to frame it like THAT.

she went to slap him but ofc he intercepted. ugh he’s so massive how the fuck is someone to even subdue him????? god i hate men.

anyway she told him he’s disgustaaaaaang and won’t take his help and he’s like yeah but it’s not just about you, there are manyyyyyy lives at stake here.

HE’S SUCH AN ASSHOLE FOR PLAYING WITH HER THIS WAY. THERE’S NO WAY SHE WINS HERE IN HIS EYES. IF SHE DOESN’T TAKE HIS HELP, THAT MEANS SHE HOLDS HER EGO AND SELF RESPECT OVER THE FAMILY’S SAFETY. IF SHE DOES GIVE UP HER SELF RESPECT TO SAVE THE FAMILY, HE’S JUST GONNA USE IT TO THROW ACCUSATIONS AT HER CHARACTER. FUCK IT’S JUST SUCH A HORRIBLE, BAD FAITH EXPERIMENT. I HATE HIM. AND SINCE WE KNOW ALREADY THAT SHE’S GONNA AGREE FOR THE DATE OR WHATEVER, I SWEAR TO GOD IF HE SHAMES HER FOR THAT LATER, IMMA CLIMB INTO THE SCREEN AND CASTRATE HIM WITH A RUSTY BUTTER KNIFE.

the signal for the yes to the offer is a........ “flying dance” during the party. which sounds as fucking ridiculous as.......... everything else in this fucking show, i suppose.

LMAO SHE IMITATED THE LIL SMUG EXPRESSION HE MADE IN SUCH A CUTE/FUNNY WAY. WHY THIS SHOW DOESN’T LET HELLY ALSO BE MORE EXPRESSIVE WITH HER FACE IN A CUTE WAY???? SHE LITERALLY HAS A DISNEY PRINCESS FACE AND ALL THESE FUCKERS MAKE HER DO IS CRY AND SCREAM AND BE WORRIED.

what a fucking simp for his wife. i love it.

askdjlksjdlkasjdlksajldkjlkdjlkj there’s a watermark on the mumbai stock footage. this show gives nooooooo fucks about quality at all.

party time. and the lights have gone out.

someone messing with the electronic equipment in the worsttttttttttt fucking way, by putting kerosene on the floor and setting a fuse alight??????? like????? just cut all the wires instead of causing a fullll fucking house fire like this?????????

lmao ishani is like lights ko gaye itna time ho gaya, yeh zaroor riddhima ki kismat ka koi ishaara hai. sis you need to chill with the savage. ek din toh chhod do usko.

ok they’re really hot today. really fucking hot.

lmao she’s smiling but chabaa chabaa ke saying ki i’ll never say yes to your shady idea.

kabir walks up to her, gives her flowers, AND ACTUALLY THREATENED HER RIGHT IN FRONT OF V’S FACE. THE WAY V’S FACE CHANGED IN SECONDS YOU GUYS................

coldly impassive.....

...... to YOU’RE REALLY TRYING TO RUIN MY WIFE’S BIRTHDAY WHEN I EXPLICITLY WARNED YOU NOT TO?????????

..... to OH HE GON’ DIE TONIGHT.

.......... to silently giving reassuring look ki he’ll handle this.

that fuse is stillllllllllllll burning. at the fucking speed of paint drying on a rainy day.

speech timeeeeeeeee by kabir. and he has a video too. lorddddd.

V still cheekily offering his services, and she’s like bitch i did my own intezaam already. ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. kerosene aur fuse waala stupidass plan iska hi tha. should have guessed from the level of sheeeeeer dumbness that it was her and no one else.

lmao he’s like ok but this was too good an opportunity for me, so i counter-attacked YOUR counter-attack. that wasn’t kerosene. i switched it out for blue paani. OH GOD RIDDHIMA DUMBASS DID YOU NOT EVEN SMELL THE FLUID TO CHECK WHAT IT WAS??????????????

“kahaani kuch bhi ho, important yeh hai ki uska climax kya hota hai. aur iss kahaani ka climax tumhare saamne hai, riddhima.”

bitch yehi toh dikkat hai, ki abhi tak koiiiiiiiiii climaxes nahi milen hain issko. na vansh se, na vihaan se. what’s the use of all this thopda and ambidexterous haath if there’s no climaxes resulting from them? waste fellow. get working on delivering those climaxes PRONTO, sir.

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

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amazingdriverfics · 4 years

Text

Crowned by the devil - ch. 13

Summary: Kylo has to deal with the consequences of his act and so do you. Will you ever be able to forgive him?

Warnings: lots of angst, sad Kylo, sad reader.

A/N: this took me so long I am truly embarrassed and also sorry for all of you who read this fic which is very important to me just like you all. As you might know my aunt died and I was at the end of my College semester and as someone who has depression things just got a bit out of hand. I hope that I can write the next chapter sooner since I already have the planning written down.

Thank you all for not giving up on me. It means a lot, for real. I hope you all had a great day.

My masterlist

Previous Chapter

Kylo left the room like a hurricane, all the anger he held towards her a moment before now fueling his self-hate, he had wished so many times to be different, to be someone who could open up, who could be loved, but everytime Ren proved to himself that he was only good at being hated, at being feared, at being the monster Snoke shaped him into. As he stomped to the halls, lightsaber already in hand ready to be ignited destroying all it could possibly touch as if it would solve his problems, Kylo kept on seeing her face as he unleashed the demons in his insides, the tears running down her face, the disappointment in her eyes, the fear she felt kept hitting him in waves and the feeling of being the most feared being in the room, which usually made him feel powerful, now making him ashamed of his attitudes.

He didn’t meet anyone as he walked through the ship, his loud steps enough to let all of his employees know that they shouldn’t cross him if they had any love for their own life, Ren would kill anyone in that moment, would do anything at all to end the feelings crushing his insides, to take his mind away from her, to make him feel alive again.

Before he could even notice he was inside a monochromatic room filled with computers, lightsaber in hand, the red light coloring his face contorced in an angry expression and the room. He didn’t think twice before destroying the room, watching as sparkles flew, ignoring the sounds of his actions since they were drowned by her “Leave”s, the pain in her tone amplifying his own hurt, it almost felt like her hands were back on his chest, hitting him over and over again as if she could really physically hurt the man built like a tank.

Eventually his rage died and despair took control of him, without even think he let the lightsaber fall to the floor, not listening to the sound of the fall as he started to sob, tears spilling and staining his skin as he too fell to the ground, the pain becoming too much for him to even stand. He had just lost his Empress, Kylo knew that he could make her marry him, he could do anything he wanted, but the knight also knew that he could never force her to truly love him, to look at him like he had hung the stars, to want his body, to kiss him with want as she used to do, to care for him. He had given all that up for his stupidity, for not being brave enough to let her see what he was like inside.

As the night went on Kylo laid on the floor with the remains of his destructive behavior crying his eyes out and calling her name, praying to the force that there was something he could possibly do to make her care about him once again.

——————————————————————————

For the following week Kylo stayed in his bedroom, too ashamed and sad to leave the comfort of his quarters, allowing the guilt to eat him from inside out, not eating properly, barely showering or leaving the warm feeling provided by his bed. The knight couldn’t even look at the mirror, his reflection judging him, holding him accountable for all he had done and for his mistakes. Ren knew he would have to leave that space - mental and physical - soon, he knew that the First Order needed him and that he couldn’t trust Hux to stay in charge for too long without trying to overthrow him, the worst part was that he knew he couldn’t ignore his actions for too long as well, he would have to face her, he would have to try to fix the mess he had made even though he wasn’t sure how he would do so, but Kylo loved her too much to let everything fall apart like that.

He took one last look at the mess in his room, at the clothes spreaded around the floor, at the bed sheets covered in sweat and got up going straight to the bathroom, starting the shower as he looked into the mirror, straight into the reflection’s eyes, ready to do whatever he needed to do to make her his once more.

——————————————————————————

Your sadness had turned into a uncontrollable rage in the day that followed the fight, at yourself and at Kylo, the wish to kill the Supreme Leader filling your head constantly as you lived through the day, trying your best not to unleash your anger in Mitaka who seemed to be frequently scared of you ever since your attitude change no matter how many times you tried to explain to the sweet Lieutenant that your mood had nothing to do with him. The only ones who were really able to handle you like that were Cardo and Trudgen which kept on trying to cheer you up with his super annoying sense of humor. So whenever you weren’t with Mitaka in the library gathering all the information you needed or in your quarters, you were with the two knights doing your best to live through the days as you tried your hardest to ignore each and every thought about Kylo that didn’t involve your fists hitting his perfect face over and over again.

Mainly, it wasn’t too hard keeping you from thinking about Ren, but sometimes a wave of sadness would hit you straight on the chest remembering that you missed his presence even though you couldn’t bring yourself to understand why on the Galaxy you would miss that man, well until your body remembered you not only about the times he pleasured you, much more than that really, every time you felt like that your faded scar burned a bit remembering that night when Kylo comforted you and defended you from Hux, about his body on the small couch on the medbay as he slept and waited for news about you since he was deeply worried about your wound and about how grateful you were to him for ordering the doctor to treat your scar, fading it enough so you could cover it with a tattoo.

The sound of Trudgen’s voice calling you hottie brought you back to reality, forcing you to remember that you were in the knight’s living room drinking with your two friends, even though you would never admit you considered Trudgen one of your friends. You grabbed the drink on the table, feeling the coldness of the glass and allowing the sensation to ground you even further so it could take your mind off of Kylo Ren.

“Yes, Trudgen” you said with a fake annoyed tone, arching your eyebrows before taking a sip of the drink with a strong alcohol taste.

“I asked you who you think will win the game” he replied, voice showing a bit of worry he and Cardo shared anytime you zoomed out of reality even though they knew better than to ask you what was happening, not talking about their master or about what happened that night was an unannounced deal you three had and even though you were sure they knew how Kylo was doing you knew it was better not to ask about it, not wanting to drag yourself deeper into the mess you had put yourself into.

You looked at the screen in which both of them were watching the game, doing your best to analyze the teams strategies and players even though you weren’t the biggest fan of soccer nor had a lot of time during your life to watch those games, but the dizziness in your brain caused by the combination of alcohol and thinking of Ren made it impossible for you to have a logical response to the match playing in front of your eyes. And so you shrugged, taking your drink to your lips once more before saying a “don’t fucking care” which caused Cardo to laugh.

“Come on, y/n, it’s the Galactic Cup, you must care about it” Trudgen said back, trying to bring you into his conversation with Cardo despite it being a loss fight, you were too in your head to come back.

“Leave her alone” Cardo commanded, knowing that there was nothing that both of them could do, but letting you be.

And so you stayed on the couch barely moving except when you took a sip of your drink feeling as your scar burned, shouting to you that there wasn’t a way to really keep yourself from remembering how Kylo took care of you. ——————————————————————————

Ren was in the throne room with the most expensive jewelry consultant in the Galaxy, looking at the thousand of pieces he had in his holotablet, double checking each one making sure that he would choose not only the best one, but the one which fitted his Empress more perfectly, which would make her skin and eyes pop. Just by following his plan to get his love back, Kylo felt a bit of comfort, of course the fear of it still not being enough to get her back was present, but knowing that he had already come up with a plan and that he was a step closer to feeling her against his arms once again was enough to keep him going. And so, despite what anyone could expect of him, Ren kept on scrolling and on deciding his favorite jewelry with a feeling of enjoyment pumping through his veins.

The Supreme Leader was interrupted by the sound of one of his knights dropping on one knee in respect before saying “Master Ren” allowing him to know that the one in his presence was no other than Cardo, his Empress best friend and one of the people he had been avoiding in the past days knowing that the encounter would make the wound in his chest throb. Seeing his knight, however, didn’t make him want to cry or destroy a whole room, instead he felt proud of himself, he knew that Cardo would appreciate his attempt to make y/n feel better.

“Cardo” he replied, gesturing for the knight to get up, waiting patiently for the knight to announce the reason why he had come to Ren. The waves of worry coming from the man, however, allowed his master to have an idea of what he wanted to talk about.

“Master, I don’t mean to overstep, but I’ve been really worried about y/n, ever since whatever happened between the two of you, she hasn’t been the same.” he started, eyes looking at his calloused hands, stopping for a moment to catch a breath before continuing “Whenever she isn’t furious looking like she is about to throw a punch in the nearest surface, she looks lost, as if her sadness swallowed her whole and there’s nothing left of her but a shell” Cardo finished looking, for once, directly into Kylo’s eyes and even though he tried to keep a hard facade which didn’t show emotion, his light colored eyes were see-through, he was truly concerned for the girl he had the chance to grow to love as a friend.

Kylo’s heart almost stopped for a second, all the good sensations he had been feeling just a couple of minutes before completely gone, overshadowed by the crushing pressure on his chest almost as if a hand was crushing it. If he was alone, Ren might have cried or allowed his self-hate to express itself in the room’s walls, but he knew better than to throw a tantrum in front of one of his knights, someone who not only should respect him as a master, but also someone he considered to be family.

“I see” he replied, voice hoarse and distorced with the sea of emotions taking over him. “I have a plan to win her heart back Cardo, don’t you worry.”

——————————————————————————

You were wandering in the endless halls, watching as the same bucket faces passed through you, as the droids worked and as the stars shone in the never ending blue galaxy, wondering what was your role in it, if you were really supposed to be living in a ship suffering for a man who could never give you what you needed when you had spent all your life on your own when the first encounter after the fight happened.

As strange as it could possibly sound, you felt him before even seeing him, as if something about his aura was always recognizable from all that time you had spent with Kylo. Just the feeling made your body hair stand as anxiety started to fog your brain, it was truly your worst nightmare, you were pretty you weren’t ready to see him, but there was no point in running, you knew that he could find you anywhere he wanted, no matter how good you were at hiding yourself from your problems. Therefore you waited, standing still and trying to keep an emotionless face that could do nothing to help you to keep your feelings from the dark knight.

The first thing you listened to were his steps, loud and confident as ever and it immediately caused you to look up, facing the thought you had tried to ignore the most. He was just as beautiful as ever, his gorgeous dark and intense eyes looking directly into yours, his hair adorning his face which seemed a bit thinner and his mouth you had kissed so many times in a line as he kept his neutral expression. Seeing him awakened a lot of feelings, the first one was a pulsing rage which had been with you ever since you woke up after Ren left your room, the second one was relief to know he was alive and well and even though you felt sad from all that happened, the most present feeling was disappointment, you didn’t exactly know why you weren’t expecting Kylo Ren to act like a monster after he had kidnapped you, but after all the nice moments and all the kindness he had shown you, seeing him as a captor once more, more so, as someone that even remotely reminded you of Kreat was just too much, too heartbreaking.

“y/n”.

#crowned by the devil #kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #adam driver #cardo #trudgen #supreme leader kylo ren #star wars

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years

Text

This story takes place during the Sanders Asides Are There Healthy Distractions Episodes, suggested by @heavy-metal-papillon . The idea comes from Logan voicing Deciets line when he pops up to grab his hat from Logan, so in this story Deciet and Logan switched places in the episode.

Switching Sides

Summary: Logan wants some time to himself and Janus wants to enjoy a movie with the other sides in peace. They support and respect eachothers wants and needs, agreeing to switch places for movie night. In doing so, they both gained a bit more than they bargained for.

Warnings: none, but if you see any just say something!

Ships: platonic Lociet, past platonic Anciet

WC: 2, 305

Janus adjusted the his tie one final time, giving himself a once over in the mirror. His hair was combed back smartly, hat tucked away safely in his room for the time being. He had gotten the type right this time, and the white embroidered brain logo stood out against the plain black polo. The stiff dark Jean's were a little uncomfortable but the dress shoes fit nicely so he couldn't complain too much. This had to be perfect, even if it was a somewhat casual setting, he couldn't afford to-

"You know you could've just asked."

Yelping, he whirled around to face the real logical side currently sizing him up with a less than impressed expression. "We aren't discussing anything important today, why are you replacing me again?"

Janus sputtered. "I wasn't!"

Logan's eyebrow raised even more. "So my choice of clothing is just that comfortable, right down to the glasses?"

"...yes."

"Janus."

The deceitful side snapped his head up to glare at the other. "Not so loud! You dont know if one of the others would hear!"

Logan cleared his throat. "No one is left in the mind scape currently except us. Even Remus is currently hiding behind the couch. I assure you no one will overhear us, though of course I will call you Deciet if that would make you more comfortable."

Narrowing his eyes, Janus took a careful step back. "Why aren't you angry at me?"

Logan shrugged. "Why are you disguising yourself to simply watch a movie?"

"Because I-well in case...just in case something comes up that....hes using this to distract himself and that's sort of like lying to yourself so it stands to reason i would want to be there." Satisfied with jus excuse he glared at the other, daring him to argue.

But Logan simply nodded. "I've been meaning to get more work done anyway and would rather do that than watch Roman rig the vote multiple times only to complain about the plot of the movie he picked out. Straighten the tie and be careful."

"Just...just like that? You don't even care?"

"I require time to....gather my thoughts, after the more recent dilemmas Thomas seems insistant on making harder than they should be. Peace and quiet would be nice right now and if you're willing to take my place then I wont argue." Nodding more to himself, Logan reached out to hand him a thermos. "Caffiene helps stave off the inevitable headache. I highly recommend it."

Dumbfounded, Janjs could only clutch the thermos go his chest as he watched the logical trait walk back to his room and quietly shut the door behind him. Something he couldn't quite identify tugged in his chest but he brushed it off quickly and sunk down to the apartment below.

Patton was the first to notice him as he settled down stiffly on the couch, waving excitedly and almost spilling what looked like cocoa all over the floor in the process. Nodding he looked up as Roman began to speak.

"Finally! Now that we have our resident nerd here we can vote." Janus watched curiously as little slips of paper were passed around, narrowing his eyes at the clump that Roman hid in his sleeve but decided not to say anything. He looked over as Thomas cleared his throat, taking the paper offered to him with an excited smile which he quickly dropped in favor of Logans usual impassive expression. He didnt expect to win the vote, but maybe since it was movie night they'd watch all the suggested films to make it fair. He didnt really know how this was supposed to work, Remus and....well, nobody ever watched movies together in the part of the mind he resided in.

Quickly jotting down his selection he waited rather impatiently for the rest to finish, gripping the paper tightly as a hat was passed around.

Wait.

He could only stare as the collection hat got to him. How had they gotten his hat? When did they even get it?....How often did they sneak into his room without him knowing? He wanted so badly to yell, take his hat and sink out, but that wasnt who he was right now.

"Hey L, you good?"

His head snapped up so fast he felt his neck creak. Virgil had never....not for a long time....that tone of voice wasn't for him. Virgil stayed with the "light sides" now, he only showed concern for them. Swallowing around the lump in his throat he reluctantly handed the hat back to Thomas to give back to Roman.

"I'm adequate thank you."

His hand shook slightly as he raised the thermos of coffee to his lips, but if Virgil noticed he didn't say anything.

Swinging his attention back to the current conversation he caught Pattons response to whatever had been said. "...voted for Frozen Roman but I'm still rooting for-"

"Oh my gosh! One hundred percent of the votes went to Frozen!"

He scowled as Patton cheered. "No, fu - falsehood, I did not vote for Frozen!"

"You didn't get a vote because you didnt wear a onesie!"

Taking a preemptive swig of coffee, he mumbled out, "I don't wear those anymore, they're too childish."

"No onesie, no vote, like our founding fathers believed!"

Janus snorted quietly, covering it up with an exasperated sigh as he settled more into couch. While the movie was being set up he glared again at the stolen hat on the floor, bringing out his phone discreetly.

Dee: I know I don't have much right to ask you this, but might I request a favor?

Logan: I assure you it's fine. What do you need?

Surprised at the quick response he continued to type, glancing up every now and again to be sure no one noticed his silence.

Dee: Roman stole my hat somehow, I was wondering if it would be possible cor you to get it back? I know you don't like shifting but I'm not sure how discreet it would be for me to try and get it as you.

Logan: It isn't that I don't like it, I'm just not equipped to be good at it. It does not make logical sense to disguise oneself, therefore I am at a disadvantage when it comes to such things. However, I can replicate your scales if I may have permission to 'raid your wardrobe' so to speak. Only with your permission of course.

Dee: Thank you and it's fine. Just dont go snooping around. You may not like what you find.

Logan: I will not. I have no reason to do anything other than procur clothing and so that is all I will do.

Sighing in relief, Janus settled back somewhat comfortably to watch the movie, letting the other sides' idle chatter wash over him.

----

"Fear will be your enemy."

Janus snuck a glance at Virgil at this line, glancing back away quickly at the look of panic that flashed across the anxious sides face. He wondered if Virgil would ever open up about his true nature....though perhaps until things truly calmed down it was for the best he remained determined to be closed off.

----

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Remus popped up suddenly behind him, clapping his hands at the prospect of Anna and Elsa's parents dying at sea, seemingly completely naked and comfortable enough to showcase go the entire living room. Janus shot him a warning look as Remus peered at him curiously, thanking God that for once Remus seemed content to keep his mouth shut.

----

"Wait, Hans is tricking Anna making her believe hes in love with her, but shes not around...why make that face?" He had watched the movie before of course but now that he had people to discuss it with that weren't making sexual innuendos every other sentence he felt much more comfortable speaking out.

"Yeah your right...."

Janus promptly turned out the rest of Roman's sentence, discreetly entering the date into his phone that Roman had admitted he was right in something, even if he didnt know who he was speaking to.

----

"Do you think this place has a lavatory?"

"Ice toilet!" Patton giggled.

"Or a bed?" Roman countered.

"Ice bed!"

"This place sounds awful." His nature made his blood run colder than normal anyway and the thought of sleeping on a freezing cold bed on top of a mountain surrounded by walls of ice made him very much wish he had in fact worn his onesie.

----

Janus chugged another mouthful of coffee in irritation. "You meddled with the vote to ensure we would watch this and yet you're the one constantly making fun of it."

"Look, this is how I show my love!"

Janus rolled his eyes and settled back into the couch wondering if Roman showed his love this way with the others just as much as he did with his beloved disney films.

----

Janus watched as Virgil voiced his thoughts on the matter that had made them all plan this movie night in the first place. A familiar kind of second hand hurt tugged in his chest while the others' thoughts spiraled further and further, unconsciously blanketing the room with an ever more suffocating blanket of anxiety. He watched as Roman grimaced from across the room, Patton fidgeting in place and gripping his mug ever harder and Thomas dragging fingers through messy hair as Virgil only continued talking faster and faster, becoming more and more worked up as the literal word vomit consumed any rational thoughts left in the room.

"Thomas, Virgil?" He waited calmly as Thomas peeked out from his hands and Virgils panicked face snapped towards him. Pushing down the old familiarity he continued on. "Please do me a favor and name me five things that you can see."

"Staircase." Thomas sighed.

"Impending doom." Virgil quickly countered.

"Olaf."

"A future without friends."

"Lamp!"

"Blinds."

"Pants."

"Now four things you can feel."

"Pants."

"A bad feeling."

"The couch."

"Wall."

"Hair."

"Three you can hear." He smiled in relief as Virgil began to participate more, visibly calming as his mind was brought back to the present.

"Olaf."

"The fan."

"The ice machine for some reason."

Thomas really needed to fix his appliances. "Two things can smell."

"Clean shirt."

"The deodorant Thomas put on because....he was gonna go out tonight."

"And one thing you can taste."

"A sour taste in my mouth probably leftover from those reheated tai noodle leftovers."

Both variably more calm, Janus tried gently explaining the technique he had used, though he knew they both already knew it seemed like a good idea to remind them that they were allowed to use the technique whenever they needed it.

"Thank you, Logan." Thomas breathed out as he leaned forward tiredly.

Janus smiled, going to take another swig of his dwindling coffee when he caught site of a figure dressed in black and yellow on the stairs, nobody having noticed his presence yet.

Allowing himself a smirk behind the thermos, he responded. "No problem. Just your cool teacher being his cool self."

He smiled slightly wider as he heard a quiet scoff from the figure, just loud enough that he could hear it. He hoped Logan didn't think he was making fun of him, this was a rare day where he hadn't lied once around the others.

----

Logan settled quietly on the stairs til the end of the movie, seeming content to join them quietly until Roman brought Janus' hat back out.

After they had discussed the movie's ending, with Virgils anxious thoughts still persisting, he realized they needed to do something else that more actively distracted them all from the situation. As Roman brought out his hat to vote on another activity Logan stepped in quickly, Virgil hissing at him much to Janus' amusement while Logan snatched his hat back without a glance in his direction.

"I was looking for this! Don't touch my shit!" Janus bit his lip hard to keep from busting out laughing at the reality of Logan swearing at Roman for him, a warm feeling enveloping him as the others continued with whatever conversgion they had moved on to. His focus came back as the ending of some kind of Frozen fix it fanfiction was being discussed, making it very hard not to feel smug as his suggested was acted upon and Thomas definitely seemed happier than he had previously. Not being needed for whatever ridiculous story was sure go come out he sunk back down into the mind scape, startling slightly when he appeared right next to Logan who was currently fixing a spare tie as he left Janus' room.

"Ah, you're back. I left your hat on the bedside where I assume it was taken in the first place. I'm the future know that with a little concentration we are able to keep certain sides out of our rooms. I would suggest you utilize this to prevent future thievery."

Janus shook off his disguise and held out the stolen tie. "Thank you...for letting me, well you didn't have to allow me to ho in your stead. I....appreciate the trust."

"Keep it." Logan gestured to the tie before turning away. "Just in case."

Janjs watched in confusion as Logan returned to his room to lock himself away again, finally sighing and turning to his own. Smiling a little he laid the tie carefully in a drawer before plunking his hat back on his head, shoulders sagging in relief at the familiarity.

It was nice to pretend to be someone else and talk with fake friends. But maybe, in allowing himself vulnerability, he had found himself another real one.

This work is also available on AO3!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #lociet #logan sanders #deciet sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #ao3

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soveryanon · 4 years

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Reviewing time for MAG173!

- … It was absolutely terrible, horrible, upsetting, and I loved it – it was indeed answering that little question about the children, the answer was still absolutely horrifying even given the circumstances, and I needed to hear that level of discomfort&upset from Jon and Martin themselves about victims in general. (Though I’m a bit “it took CHILDREN for you to truly react with horror?!” x”))

I really like how this episode already felt like something that was… not a conclusion (really not; not yet), but something that couldn’t have happened right at the start of the season. It demonstrated explicitly why the “smiting” is not a viable option; it returned to the foreground what the actual problem is (the Fear-system, not the individual avatars having a small or large benefit in it); and it allowed for Jon and Martin to let their points come across a bit more explicitly in a way that didn’t feel like a full blown-up conflict either. They argue, they have conflicting views, but they’re also getting better at understanding the other’s mindset and limitations (the journey is not only through the domains; it’s also a journey of navigating with someone else who operates differently from you, and has other ways to cope, and learning how to push forwards carrying your differences).

- The “statements” of the children were heartbreaking ;_; Poem for The Stranger, formal report for The End, botanic manual for The Flesh, theatrical play for The Web… and now a children’s book for The Dark.

Stylistically, the use of repetitions and more simplistic words, constructions and reasoning, in Jack and Caitlin’s stories, really made me feel that it was about children, for children, in the mind of children? I love that their fears felt extremely logical: there is an absolute certainty in their fears, in what the monsters are, what they would do to them. The monsters and their tortures (what they want to do to the kids) are simple, but also very concrete and straightforward (and so is the name “Night Street” for the territory! It tells what it is). The kids’ beliefs are ruthlessly clinical. There’s no need to be fancy; it works as is. Even the adults’ rules sound concrete – but arbitrary and cruel, becoming neglect, leaving the kids at the mercy of monsters. And it’s interesting that we don’t see the monsters actually catching any of the kids: the apocalypse is mostly an extension of their fears removing anything that could appease or protect them (there is no light, no day after the night, nobody comes when they scream and the “adults” are unresponsive and useless; the kids are on their own).

On that note, pretty sure that the adults mentioned were not actually there (“Dad’s dead. Mum’s here but she lost it a while back. So now it’s just me.”, “Some grown-ups are not in bed, but they do not want to help Jack. They want to be alone. They don’t want any children around at all. They tell Jack it is after his bedtime, and put him in another dark room where he cannot run…! So no grown-ups told Jack to run into the dark.”, “Her mother is downstairs, but she is part of the sofa now. She won’t stop staring at the television and laughing. Laughing and laughing. She doesn’t like it, when Caitlin is awake. She doesn’t hear it, if she screams.”), mostly convictions in the kids’ mind to reinforce their hopelessness. But aouch: it seems like the domains, while showing some aspects of other fears (the kids are constantly hunted, what the monsters could do to them is close to Flesh-territory, etc.), are not really functioning as “collaborative” projects. If they were, pretty sure that some parents could be ensnared by Desolation or Beholding, for example, forced to watch their children getting tortured but unable to help and save them ;;

How the fear worked was also very on point for children’s psyche:

(MAG173) ARCHIVIST: “Callum smiles and says he’s found a brand new monster! Jack doesn’t want to hear about it. He knows that when Callum tells him what it is, then it will start to chase him. He won’t see it, of course, because it’s just too dark! But he will know it’s there.”

Callum literally creates the fears of the monsters, which creates the monsters themselves. The conviction makes them true. And it really works that way when you’re a kid! Something that has been told to you, or that you saw/read somewhere (“Caitlin read a picture book once, full of horrible spiky fish with big eyes and crooked teeth. She would see them every time she went to bed for weeks. That was what the monsters looked like, she was sure of it. They would grip her, with their nasty cold fins, and bite her head clean off.”), is too powerful to be contained in pages and becomes a tangible threat that you’re sure is personally coming after you.

- … I live for the Dark vs. Eye animosity and:

(MAG173) ARCHIVIST: Childish fears are… simplistic. MARTIN: [LONG EXHALE] ARCHIVIST: Direct. [SHAKINGLY] The Eye prefers the more complex neuroses and disquiets of a fully developed mind…! So the children are allowed to age… MARTIN: [DEEP INTAKES OF BREATH] ARCHIVIST: And they are placed in domains where their fears can… mature. Domains like this one. MARTIN: Christ, that’s… that’s messed up! ARCHIVIST: … Yes.

… The Eye throwing the kids at The Dark, because they’re not that satisfying on their own, so The Dark can have them. Beholding, please.

é_è Regarding the kids’ fears “maturing”, we get glimpses of that with Jack and Caitlin – there are very clear Hunt-vibes (being constantly pursued), but also some Lonely (nobody is coming for them), some Flesh and Slaughter (getting mutilated, consumed, being meat for the monsters), and I could very well see some Spiral sneaking in (not being confident in their sense of reality)…

The most upsetting part is how this domain and its function… felt thought through? That sort of grooming requires organisation to engineer a fear-machine. It’s not only instinct and impulse: it’s planned, organised towards a goal because current things are not good enough as is. It was stated time and time again (by Leitner, by Gertrude, by Gerry) that the Fears were mostly impulse, not really “thinking”, but this domain feels so… calculated, demonstrating a form of sentience behind it? I think that was the most upsetting reveal this episode – of course children wouldn’t have been safe, but to learn that they’re “allowed to age” only for their fears to develop and get more satisfying for The Eye? That’s truly horrifying.

(- I’m also a bit relieved to know what is happening to them, because there could have been “worse”: this episode could have talked about people who were pregnant when the Change happened, or about very very young infants. Though I can’t help but wonder about the babies and how they can grow up without adults to mirror, without forms of communication with their peers. Right now, the only hypothesis I have would be that they… could become “Inheritors” as described in MAG134, if left on their own and only raised with and around the Fears?)

- … I really wasn’t expecting Callum to come back, after the Church Of The Divine Host chapter seemed to have closed with Manuela. Well – I had trouble leaving behind the faint possibility that “Rayner” had somehow managed to hop into a new host, but I wasn’t expecting Callum to come back for himself.

(MAG073) ARCHIVIST: You said it started with a kidnapping case? BASIRA: Yeah. Callum Brodie. Twelve… twelve years old. Disappeared from his home in Dalston three weeks ago. Sitter was asleep when the mother came home, the front door was open, there was no sign of him. There was no forced entry so it started out as a missing persons case, but they got a witness claiming he’d seen three unknown figures entering the Brodies’ home that night, so it was kicked up to Serious Crime. There was some back and forth with Kidnap Squad since no ransom demand had been made, but not much progress in terms of finding the kid. […] The briefing was pretty short. We were told that Callum Brodie had been found and it was suspected he was being held by a man named Maxwell Rayner, with an unknown number of accomplices. There were suspicions that there might be cult involvement. That’s when I phoned you. […] Next to him was an old chair that looked like it could have come from a dinner table. The wood was stained, covered in dark mould, and tied to it with thin metal wire was Callum Brodie. The kid's eyes were blank, though not clouded like the old man’s, and his face was locked in a silent scream. Rayner was facing him, thin, bony hands raised to his face. Something was… something was flowing out of his mouth. It looked like ink, but it flowed more like a heavy fog than any sort of liquid. It drips down his forearms and onto the floor, where it… it rolled towards Callum, climbing up the chair and oozing across the boy’s body towards his face. It was moving slowly, and had just reached his chest. The roaring sound seemed to come as it convulsed out of the old man’s mouth. […] The kid seemed fine. I mean, I’m sure he’ll need a lot of counselling, but he didn’t seem physically any worse for wear.

(MAG140) ARCHIVIST: So Edmond Halley was… Rayner. Or, at least… whatever was inside him. You said he was dead, though. BASIRA: I thought he was. We shot him to hell before he could, uh… “pour himself” into that kid.

(MAG143) MANUELA: But I could see in his eyes that Maxwell was so very tired. And all the words fell to nothing. Instead, we began the search for his successor, a new host for his… continuation. He would regain his strength, and we would plan our next move. It was difficult, though. The approaching culmination had meant Maxwell had not prepared another host, and the search for another vessel was… long and involved. Finally, about eighteen months ago, we found one: a child, whose father had, by coincidence, been directly marked by The Dark. It was a desperate plan, but we were desperate, a shadow of what we had been. Maxwell left me here, to guard the Black Sun, and everyone else left to help in his rebirth. [INHALE] But it didn’t work, did it? I can only assume we were too weak to hide from you, and you struck when Maxwell was vulnerable.

+ Manuela’s words kinda confirming the hypothesis that he was the son of MAG052’s statement-giver, Phillip Brown, the awful cop who had reported on Robert Montauk’s death (MAG052: “Martin hasn’t had much luck tracking down Mr Brown himself. According to Caroline Brodie, his ex-wife, she left him in 2004, after his dismissal from the prison service pushed him further into alcoholism, and he became abusive. She said she got a single letter from him in 2009, asking for reconciliation, but she never replied. Martin says the letter was postmarked from Waterford in Ireland. But he’s been unable to track Mr Brown any further.”)

… I immediately went with the same reasoning/hope as Martin when listening to this episode, that it wasn’t actually Callum himself but Rayner/a dark cultist possessing him ;; And nope ;;

(MAG173) MARTIN: That’s the avatar for this place? ARCHIVIST: Callum Brodie, thirteen years old. He guides the children through their fears of The Dark. MARTIN: This is that kid Basira went after last year, right? The one the darkness cult took. So, so that’s not even a kid, that’s whatever was inside Maxwell Rayner, it’s just wearing his body! ARCHIVIST: [CALLING] Callum? [FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING] CALLUM: Yeah, what? ARCHIVIST: You remember when those people kidnapped you. What happened? CALLUM: Mm, it was fun! I just hid and the cops came and got me. [SCREAMS IN THE DISTANCE] ARCHIVIST: Tell the truth. [STATIC RISES] CALLUM: Augh…! I, I–I was, I was scared, alright? I was really, really… scared. [STATIC FADES] And it was dead dark, and… I couldn’t see anyone and, I didn’t know where I was and… And there–there was something on my face, and it was cold, and, and slimy, and it didn’t like me. Then there was a bang, and it was gone…! And… the police were there. [SCREAMS IN THE DISTANCE] ARCHIVIST: And what happened to the thing that tried to take you over? CALLUM: Dunno, it… went away. ARCHIVIST: It died in the light. CALLUM: Whatever! ARCHIVIST: And it was after that you started shoving smaller kids into cupboards, right? CALLUM: Yeah. Give them a taste of it. Make them afraid of the dark. [SCREAMS IN THE DISTANCE] ARCHIVIST: But you’ve always pushed around smaller children, haven’t you? CALLUM: They made me feel sick. I hate them! ARCHIVIST: And now? CALLUM: Now everyone’s afraid of me!

That was another thing which hurt a lot in this episode: the fact that, so far, Callum’s story felt “simple” in its horribleness: a kid, who got kidnapped by a cult, who almost got possessed by an evil Dark-something, who was rescued, who was probably traumatised but still physically saved. Basira had offhandedly mentioned that he would need help to process what had happened to him, but as far as we could tell, he was just a blameless victim who went home and that was it. And he still is on that front! … And he also turns out to be, and already was before the kidnapping case, a bully. And he’s only thirteen – you can’t judge and evaluate a kid’s actions as you do adults’! But what can you do, then?

It stings that Callum took on that role, because his father was an awful man and Caroline Brodie had apparently left him while pregnant or when Callum was a few weeks old, so Callum never really knew him, and the show has stated time and time again that blood doesn’t condition you to become someone or something, but Callum became a bully too even without his father (whether it’s independently or because the consequences of Philip’s actions were felt in other ways than his presence). It stings that Callum turns out to be both a victim and a bully, not caused but still nurtured by his own trauma: trying to reclaim some control by putting younger children through experiences similar to his own, and by trying to lie about how traumatising the kidnapping had been to him. And it’s still made clear that… the trauma led him to this. Brushing with the powers led him to this. And it’s still a thirteen-year-old kid that was probably let down and not cared after enough after his traumatic kidnapping (and was not provided with the necessary redressing before that, when he was a regular bully).

- Re: Jon compelling Callum to tell the truth:

* So Jon can still do that! I was wondering, since Oliver had pointed out Jon’s passiveness in his new role and Jon had not displayed the ability again since the Change, so far.

* I have various “!!” feelings about Jon not taking kids’ bullshit at face value and having the ability to make them tell the truth very matter-of-factly. That was… almost domestic. (And yeah, feeding the “Jon&Martin AU where they adopt twenty kids”)

* There has been a HUGE constant amongst avatars to picture their path towards their patron as logical and wanted, when we had had hints that it wasn’t that simple (Mike Crew comes to mind, in MAG091: “There are echoes of resignation, I think, almost desperation. That can’t be right, though. What reason would I have had not to jump? Not to become as I am now. Perhaps I just didn’t know the true joy of vertigo. It doesn’t matter.”). We got a vivid example with Callum, who tried to pretend that the kidnapping had been on his terms when he was actually terrified. Again and again, I can’t help but think about Jonah: if Jon were to compel him, to rip the truth from his struggling tongue, would we get a quite different biography from what he had sent to Jon in MAG160, which had been on his terms?

- ;; It was horrible and made a lot of sense that Jon… plainly accepted that the “ruling” avatar was a kid, but that Martin had more trouble understanding it. Jon had direct experience with children’s cruelty and intra-violence (his bully was 18 when he was 8); Martin’s own traumas, as far as we know, came from the adults that surrounded him (his father leaving, his grandfather dying, his mother falling apart).

Jon already knew very sharply that children can hurt children in “normal” circumstances, and had read enough about the Powers touching children or shaping their lives:

(MAG009, Julia Montauk) “Whatever I had seen my father doing in there, its effects had long since vanished. I don’t know why my father did what he did, and I doubt I ever will, but the more I go over these events in my head, the more sure I am that he had his reasons.” (MAG109) JULIA: I tried to live a normal life. I really did. I took jobs working in the backroom of offices where I wouldn’t need to meet anyone. I had boyfriends who promised they didn’t care. I burned through half a dozen counsellors. None of it worked. You see, my father’s always remained one of the darlings of the true crime community.

(MAG067, Jack Barnabas) “We sat on a bench as the sun went down, watching the sky redden, and Agnes asked me a question. It was the first time she’d said anything more than a few words since we left my flat. [STATIC] She asked me if I had a destiny.” (MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “And on top of that, sleeping peacefully among the fire… a baby. Untouched, unharmed, and to our eyes, alight with a burning divinity. We baptised her with the boiling water of Asag and named her… “Agnes”, as had been her mother’s final request. But… raising a messiah, as it turns out, is a lot more challenging than creating one.” (MAG145) ARTHUR: You might be right. But Agnes did. That’s the thing about an… “incarnation”, isn’t it? She was a child and… person as much as she was a god. And we messed that right up…! … I still remember when Diego brought us a book on childcare. [CHUCKLING] Roger’s body was still in her room, blackened and smoking from… when he tried to feed her. I thought for a moment he’d brought another one of his damn Leitners, but no! It was just a… regular ol’ book on looking after children…! But I was an idiot. Saw it as… attacking my leadership.

(MAG081) ARCHIVIST: There were supernatural things in the world, but they were rare – isolated and exaggerated, vastly outnumbered by wild tales and drunken imaginings. The one name I held in my mind as a true source of evil was Jurgen Leitner, and I knew him as the worst of it, for it was his name that had marked the encounter that scarred my youth. […] I do not know how many of them there are, or precisely how they separate, but I do know that the Eye – Beholding – was not the first that I encountered in my life. The first was the Spider. The Web. And I have no idea what that might mean. I was eight years old when my grandmother gave me the book.

(MAG101) MICHAEL: When he was in school, [Michael Shelley] lost a friend to something like me. His friend was named Ryan, but those in power simply called him schizophrenic. I don’t know if he was, but it doesn’t matter. He was so dreadfully afraid his world wasn’t real that to make it so was almost nothing. Michael was there when he was taken; he never got over what he saw. Or didn’t see. After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson.

(MAG111) GERRY: The things out there weren’t like taming fire, they couldn’t be contained or used for light or warmth. The best you could hope for from them, would be that they don’t spot you, and instead my mum chased after them, obsessed with others who had tried to stare at them without being blinded: y’know, Flamsteed, Smirke, Leitner. Idiots who destroyed themselves chasing a secret that wasn’t worth knowing. And the worst thing was, she marked me as a part of that, without my understanding. Or consent.

So no surprise that Jon had all the background knowledge to be already ready for this situation… and that Martin required more time and was more explicitly hurt and shocked by the concept.

There were two big layers of horror in that domain: how it operates on the kids, and how Martin&Jon were seemingly powerless, unable to put a stop to it, while the situation was indeed intolerable:

(MAG173) MARTIN: Wh–what about the avatar? Alright, I know you said it didn’t change anything, that the domain would still exist, but at this point I don’t care, alright? Anyone who’s chosen to spend their apocalypse tormenting children– God, you–you need to end them. Now. ARCHIVIST: … It’s not that simple! MARTIN: Seriously? Seriously? ARCHIVIST: [LONG SIGH] … Fine. […] You see? MARTIN: See what, Jon, what am I supposed to see? That you don’t want to kill a… thirteen-year-old kid, big revelation! ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what you want me to do! MARTIN: I want you to use your power, I want you to help them, I want you to make things better! ARCHIVIST: There – is – no – “better” anymore. MARTIN: You keep saying that, and I hate it! ARCHIVIST: I keep saying it because it keeps being true, you know that! [SCREAMS IN THE DISTANCE] MARTIN: What I know is that leaving children here is… i–i–it’s inexcusable, i–it’s monstrous! ARCHIVIST: Martin, tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it! [SCREAMS IN THE DISTANCE] MARTIN: … [SLIGHTLY MUFFLED] Tell me about this place. … I need to know. […] The sooner we get back to the Archives, the sooner we can put a stop to this. All of this. They just… [INHALE] They’ll just need to hang on a little longer. ARCHIVIST: … Right. [EXHALE] Right.

* Outside of the supernatural, it’s a very concrete situation: what can you do, as an (unequipped) adult, if you’re witnessing a child torturing children in a community in which you don’t belong? What is the thing that needs to be done to improve the situation?

* Added with the supernatural, as was mentioned: the torture would keep going anyway if Callum was removed. And Callum is a kid, who was clearly traumatised himself and is fighting for survival – how could he deserve death for it? Yet, he’s enjoying the pain he inflicts; yet, he’s not the problem. (The problem is, as Martin pointed out again, the apocalypse itself. The problem is the Fear-machine, the system the Fears put in place.)

* … Ethical concerns about the “goodness” of smiting a thirteen-year-old to lower the pain of other kids aside, “smiting” Callum probably would have made things worse for the other kids: it would have given them an example that… monsters can kill even the most powerful of you. That your “friend” (who is also a bully) can be taken down, that you can disappear, that you can die. Concretely, it would probably have caused more fears for the kids.

- Overall: I’m glad that this episode demonstrated that no, the “smiting” is absolutely not viable nor reliable. It’s petty revenge. It doesn’t do anything good (and is probably feeding The Eye, so contributing to the awful system), it doesn’t free people nor does it decrease their sufferings. Yet: is it okay to let people enjoy the chaos be and keep benefitting from it? There is not clear answer about what Jon and Martin “have to” do, but I perfectly understand their frustrations…

- I’m still laughing so so hard that Jonah… is never relevant. Avatars can immediately identify Jon as all-powerful or even the apocalypse-bringer:

(MAG164) HELEN: What would I have to gloat about? Much as I am delighted by this brave new world in which we find ourselves, I can take no credit for it. This was all… you!

(MAG165) NOT!SASHA: Well, of course you want to wallow in my shame like your voyeur master!

(MAG166) HELEN: We’re all here, Martin. The Stranger; The Buried; The Desolation; all of us. But The Eye still rules. All this fear is being performed for its benefit. And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid. And Jon, well… he is part of The Eye; a very important part.

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “This report is being sent to: The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself. […] Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned.”

(MAG169) JUDE: Fancy seeing you both here. To what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure, the honour, of being graced by the great and powerful Archivist, harbinger of this new world, and his, uh… valet…? […] Just messing around~! Wouldn’t want to keep you from your oh-so-special business, Your Holiness.

(MAG171) JARED: Mm. … So, is there any way this doesn’t end in me dead? I’m guessing that’s on the docket if you’re here. Unless you’re just here to smell the flowers.

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: “THE SPIDER: Oh, Francis… It’s such a shame, but I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to! The man in the audience saw to that!”

(MAG173) CALLUM: … You’re the Eye guy, right? ARCHIVIST: That’s right. CALLUM: So you’re like… real important. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] I suppose I am!

But Jonah? Jonah “I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.” Magnus? Never heard of ‘em.

(But aouch, the identification of Jon as connected to The Eye and/or being responsible for the apocalypse is not helping him… He was feeling guilty about it even before leaving the cabin. I wonder how much time before someone points out and reminds him that Jonah framed him and planned and pushed for the apocalypse to happen? Martin had clearly identified Jonah as the one responsible, but it’s been a while since he was last mentioned…)

- Back to “what are the tape recorders DOING” because mmmm…

(Season 5 trailer) MARTIN: Are you still… [SIGH] “feeling it”? Seeing everything? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I, I’m trying not to, but… all of the fear, th–the anguish, i–it just… [INHALE] It keeps coming at me in waves, rolling over me, filling my head with such… awful sights. MARTIN: … I’m sorry. That sounds… [SMALL EXHALE] That sounds horrible. ARCHIVIST: … I wish it was, Martin. I really wish it was. … But it feels… right. [MIRTHLESS HUFF]

(MAG162) MARTIN: What happened? The tapes, were you– […] Look, Jon, I… I, I know it hurts, but you’ve just got to… ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! MARTIN: W–wow, okay… ARCHIVIST: But, when I thought it… the–there was… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] There was something else. Th–this place, it… it didn’t want me, it… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] didn’t want us to go. MARTIN: … What do you mean? ARCHIVIST: This cabin. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It’s not right. And, when I thought that, I–I felt… It, it all poured out of me down… into the tape. MARTIN: [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: A–a–an–and it… felt good. It–it felt… right. MARTIN: Okay. [BREATHES IN] So you’re recording again? ARCHIVIST: I might need to. If we’re going to make it…!

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: They won’t hear you, Martin, they’re all… too busy waiting to die. MARTIN: Jon… ARCHIVIST: They sit here – [STATIC RISES] the image of everyone they hold dear locked in their mind, knowing they’ll never see them again. Waiting for the order; dreading the bullet or the drone or the barbed wire that will tear them to shreds and leave them nothing but a bloody– [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] MARTIN: J–Jon, enough! Enough! [STATIC FADES] … Please don’t tell me these things. ARCHIVIST: I… I’m sorry, I– There’s just so much! There’s so much, Martin, and I know all of it, I can see all of it, and I– It’s filling me up, I need to let it out! MARTIN: I’m sorry, but tough. Okay? Tha–that’s not what I’m here for. [VOICE IN THE DISTANCE: “No… No!”] MARTIN: I can’t be that for you, I–I just can’t. ARCHIVIST: [QUIET] I… I know. [SILENCE] I–I’ll use the tape recorder…! [PLASTIC OF A TAPE] I just… [INHALE] You probably want to wait outside.

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: We’re fine. MARTIN: A–are we? I mean, that place is– … I don’t, I don’t feel fine, okay, and you were there a long time doing your… y–you–your guidebook, which, you know, I get it, but that place is…

(MAG165) MARTIN: Yeeaah, good call. Hum, in that case, do you want to… do your thing now then, before we start moving? But, are we close enough? [ROARING IN THE DISTANCE] ARCHIVIST: … Yes… Yes, I–I think so. Good idea. MARTIN: Thanks! ARCHIVIST: You, uh… [SHUFFLING] You might want to take a bit of a walk. This… feels like a strange one…

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: I… It’s hard to put into words. Loo–l… [SIGH] Look, we can talk about it later, we’re– coming to a… “domain of The Buried”, and [STATIC RISES] I would really rather… […] [INHALE] [WHIMPERING] Ah… [GRUNT] MARTIN: Jon? Are you… ARCHIVIST: We’ve been… close for too long, I need to, uh… [INHALE] You might want to take a walk. MARTIN: Hm.

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] [LONG EXHALE] [CREAKING SOUND] Oookay. Time you went for a walk. [FOOTSTEPS] MARTIN: Y–yeah, about that… [CREAKING SOUND] You sure you’ll be okay on your own? […] You… [INHALE] You vomit your horrors. [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: [REVULSED SOUND] Uh! I’m… not sure I like that metaphor…! MARTIN: “Puke your terrors”? ARCHIVIST: … Just go. MARTIN: Alright. Fine, I’m going.

(MAG171) JARED: You still do that talk-y thing? You know? Drink up all the fear and spit it back out? ARCHIVIST: Sort of, yes. JARED: Alright. Well, I’d like to hear about my garden. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … Okay! MARTIN: Look, if this is some kind of trick– ARCHIVIST: It isn’t. […] MARTIN: Jon, are you… alright? ARCHIVIST: Yeah, hum… Sorry. MARTIN: No, it, it’s alright. JARED: Is it really that bad? Seeing what I’ve done here? Or… uh! Is it maybe that deep down, you think it’s as beautiful as I do?

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: Ah… Hold up, I–I need to, uh… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: Now, seriously? We’re almost out of here. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’m sorry…! Not really up to me…! MARTIN: Fine. [SIGH]

(MAG173) MARTIN: Slow down, I can barely see a thing! ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. […] Look, I would just really like to get through here, as quickly as possible. MARTIN: How come? This one seems like the quietest place we’ve been in a while! It’s just… rows and rows of quiet houses. I mean, I know some people don’t like that sort of thing, [CHUCKLING] but I’m actually finding it kind of relaxing s– ARCHIVIST: [AGITATED BREATHING] Martin…! Please. [LOUD BREATHING] MARTIN: … Jon…? Where are we? ARCHIVIST: I–it’s complicated. MARTIN: That’s… not an answer! ARCHIVIST: Can we please just move on? […] Do you really want to know that? Really? MARTIN: [FRUSTRATED BREATHS] ARCHIVIST: I’ve been trying very hard to keep this one bottled up…!

Jon had also mentioned that they could have gone another way in MAG169; the statement in MAG171 was prompted by Jared, who wanted to hear about it; and MAG170 was even given by Martin. Jon had almost left the Web’s domain without giving one, and tried to “keep this one bottled up” in MAG172, and only gave it when prompted by Martin. Is Jon displaying a bit more control over his need to “pour out” the domains’ statements?

Once again: there are very two different things at play. On the one hand, the fact that Jon and Martin have to “experience” the domains by going through them, and the fact that Jon sometimes feel saturated to the point he has to “pour out” into the tapes to be able to function again. The two do not feel connected or necessary to each other: the tape recorder clicked on in MAG167 and recorded something that wasn’t a domain’s statement (but one about the previous Team Archive), and Jon didn’t give the house’s statement in MAG170 – that was Martin. What are the tape recorders, and is this feeding them somehow…?

- Sob about Martin trying to lighten the mood at the beginning of the episode, because it just created a rift right away – Jon already knowing the horror of the situation, and Martin thinking/hoping that the situation around there was okay-ish, allowing for light jokes:

(MAG173) MARTIN: Slow down, I can barely see a thing! ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. MARTIN: No prizes for guessing who’s in charge here, eh? ARCHIVIST: Mm, I–I suppose not…! MARTIN: You know… I really miss the days when I could blame broken streetlights on the council. A strongly-worded letter just doesn’t feel as forceful when it’s addressed to “whichever Dread Power it may concern”. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] [SIGH] Hm.

Please, Martin, send many strongly-worded letters to Jonah to hiss about the current problems.

Also, SOB ABOUT THIS BIT:

(MAG173) MARTIN: This one seems like the quietest place we’ve been in a while! It’s just… rows and rows of quiet houses. I mean, I know some people don’t like that sort of thing, [CHUCKLING] but I’m actually finding it kind of relaxing s–

Because ahahahahahaha: lonely!Martin liked the “quiet” in season 4, and “rows and rows of quiet houses” puts me in mind of MAG150’s statement with the Lonely suburb ;;

- The fear that The Web could be messing with Martin is still fresh in Jon’s mind, uh?

(MAG173) ARCHIVIST: Martin, tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it! [SCREAMS IN THE DISTANCE] MARTIN: … [SLIGHTLY MUFFLED] Tell me about this place. … I need to know. ARCHIVIST: I thought you hated listen– … [INHALE] Are you… sure that’s what you want? MARTIN: Of course it’s not…! [BAG JOSTLING] But I need to hear it.

;; Jon trying to check if Martin wasn’t mindcontrolled, since it sounded out-of-character…

(But: it made sense for Martin, and it’s also one more thing that couldn’t really have happened at the beginning of the season. Martin didn’t want to hear about Jon “vomiting” his horrors – it’s not that he was living in denial about them happening, he knew very well about them. But as was mentioned, “knowing” and “understanding” are two different things: Martin could hear that the children were terrified and preyed upon, the statement “only” provided details and the way the domain was operating. It brought no catharsis, no clue about how to make it stop and help the kids. It just made Martin another voyeur, aware of the situation… and unable to do anything short-term to solve it.)

- It’s sad and I’m glad that Jon and Martin’s differences are shining and conflicting a bit more obviously nowadays. At the core of it: Jon knows how to navigate through this new world, knows how it works, what is happening around them. He already knew about the children getting tortured, why they were there, that they were being groomed to become more satisfying for The Eye. Martin… doesn’t, and Jon tends to forget that: while Jon has to bear the knowledge, it also makes some of his actions hard to follow (Martin didn’t understand why Jon was walking so fast), and Martin’s hypotheses and hopes ruled out before he even voiced them (Jon already knew that Callum was in charge and that “smiting” this domain’s avatar wasn’t a comfortable option). But it doesn’t feel to me like they’re heading towards full-blown conflict, quite the contrary: there are tensions, there are mutual frustrations over the other’s behaviour, but they don’t forget that the apocalypse is responsible for it, and are getting better at wording what they’re feeling. Martin had pointed out that Jon wasn’t very open about his feelings, and it’s true; and it’s also true that Martin seems to be misunderstanding Jon’s level of control over their situation, to the point that… they’re both occasionally hurting each other.

(- Re: the slapping reference, I thiiiink it was Jon’s attempt at a sardonic joke like he had done in MAG154, and it just didn’t land because it sounded accusatory with a tint of cruel edge instead:

(MAG154) ARCHIVIST: I–I’ve been trying to a–avoid, being, hum… Sticking to old statements? Thank you, for your little “intervention”, by the way. MARTIN: Look, I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t– ARCHIVIST: Yes, no, I know, I’m sorry, uh– that didn’t… come out right. Honestly: thank you. [EXHALE] It’s been hell, but… I–I did need to hear it.

(MAG173) ARCHIVIST: [LOUD, LONG EXHALE] [STATIC FADES] Is that enough for you? Do you need to hear more? MARTIN: … I… ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] [STATIC INCREASES] “See Luka. See Luka sleep–” [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: No, no! No, that’s enough, that’s… enough. [STATIC FADES] [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: … Thank you for not hitting me this time. [SILENCE, PUNCTUATED BY SCREAMS] Was that what you wanted? What you needed? MARTIN: … No. [SLIGHTLY MUFFLED] No, it didn’t help at all. ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: … Let’s get out of here.

Martin hasn’t slapped Jon three times for the fun of it or for his own benefit: he had previously tried to shake him awake (MAG160) and to talk him out of it (MAG169, MAG172) when Jon was supernaturally ensnared. But, also: Jon is perfectly entitled to be bitter about it.

I wonder if Martin will try to find another way next time, though (MAKE OUT WITH HIM, HE WON’T BE ABLE TO TALK, MARTIN.))

- Sob over the fact that Martin “wanting” something reminded me of his outburst at Tim…

(MAG079) TIM: Alright, fine. Fine. What do you want? What’s your light at the end of these spooky damn tunnels – and don’t say “everyone happy forever”, because that’s not happening. … Well? MARTIN: I don’t know. I don’t know!! I want to find out what’s going on; I want to save Jon; I want everyone to be fine, and you know what? If we were all happy that wouldn’t actually be the end of the world!

And Jon is really reminiscent of Tim right now? Convinced that they’re stuck in this situation forever, almost reproaching Martin for daring to hope? While Martin’s hope indeed feels too idealistic and unreachable, despite technically being… the bare minimum.

- Jon… hasn’t always been this fatalistic about the current situation in season 5. He began the season with hopelessness, but then was the one to offer hope, before… apparently reverting back to despair:

(Season 5 trailer) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … What? What do you want? … The world is…! It’s over. You’ve won. What can you possibly still need to hear? […] MARTIN: “How are you feeling in general”, then? ARCHIVIST: … Unchanged. [PAUSE] I don’t know if it’ll ever change again…! […] MARTIN: Maybe I should, uh… pop down the village? See if they have any coffee instead? ARCHIVIST: It’s gone, Martin, and the people are…! MARTIN: Yes, I know, Jon, I’m not ignorant, I’m just… I’m just not ready for complete despair yet. ARCHIVIST: “Like me”. MARTIN: … I didn’t say that. ARCHIVIST: You didn’t have to.

(MAG161) MARTIN: Jon, it’s not your fault… ARCHIVIST: Martin, can we not do this again. MARTIN: Sorry. ARCHIVIST: I’m just… I’m mourning a world I killed…! MARTIN: I know… ARCHIVIST: And we’re all trapped in its rotting corpse…! […] MARTIN: Jon, I… This isn’t healthy. ARCHIVIST: Healthy? I am an avatar of voyeuristic terror, whose unquestioned craving for knowledge has condemned the entire world… to an eternity of torment, “healthy” i–isn’t, i–it’s not…! […] No, it’s not, I’m, I’m sorry, I just… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [INHALE, EXHALE] It hurts. MARTIN: I know. ARCHIVIST: … I need time. MARTIN: I know. But we can’t stay in this cabin forever…! [DISTANT HOWL] ARCHIVIST: Why not? It, it’s quiet here, an–and I have you…! […] MARTIN: Well, that as may be, we can’t just stay here forever. ARCHIVIST: What could possibly be out there that you want to see? MARTIN: A way to stop this, a way to turn the world back! ARCHIVIST: [HINT OF A DISHEARTENED SMILE] … Do you really think there is one? [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: Well, if there is, it’s not in here, is it? ARCHIVIST: It’s so… It’s so loud, out there? The agony, the–the terror, I can see it all so much more clearly…! MARTIN: I’m sorry. ARCHIVIST: No, it’s– [SIGH] I love you, I just… I need more time. [SILENCE] MARTIN: It’s alright. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: [SOFT EXHALE] MARTIN: It’s alright, I’m good at waiting.

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “This place wishes to be our tomb. But The Eye does not wish that. No. [STATIC INCREASES] The Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis. It is time that I emerge…” [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] […] MARTIN: So you’re recording again? ARCHIVIST: I might need to. If we’re going to make it…! [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: Back to the Archives? ARCHIVIST: Seems the best place to start. [RUMBLE OF THUNDER] MARTIN: Uh… Y–eah, alright! [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Martin… It’s going to be a hard journey. […] MARTIN: Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I… [SIGH] Maybe? MARTIN: No, I’m serious. Do we… [PAUSE IN THE PACKING SOUNDS] Is there a chance that we can undo this? ARCHIVIST: [LONG INHALE] Gertrude didn’t think so. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: … Right. ARCHIVIST: [SOFT] But she’s dead. [FIRMER] Let’s find out for ourselves. […] Besides, there’s… far worse out there. Better to try and avoid it, I think. MARTIN: We’re not even gonna try? We, we’ve got your lighter, maybe we could just– ARCHIVIST: We can’t fight the world, Martin. MARTIN: [AMUSED DEFIANT HUFF] Says you.

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: It means the journey will be the journey, regardless of how we choose to make it. […] You could see that tower from anywhere on Earth. And it can see you. And if you walk towards it, eventually you’ll get there. But you have to go through everything in-between. […] MARTIN: What’re you doing here? [PLASTIC RATTLING] It’s dangerous. Could… get yourself blown up, like all these poor… [PLASTIC RATTLING] Who d’you think they were? Really don’t see why they can’t just… go round, picked a better place to… [STEPS THROUGH LIQUID] [SIGH] I guess there… aren’t really any “better” places anymore, are there? [STEPS THROUGH LIQUID] It’s all this. Or worse, or… or different.

(MAG164) MARTIN: How much further do we still need to go? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: A long way. Through many dark and awful places… […] MARTIN: Can we turn the world back? [STATIC RISES, STRONG] ARCHIVIST: Wow! Hum… I–if the Fears are removed, yes; but they–they can’t be destroyed while there are still… people to fear them; th–then they can’t be banished back to the space where they came from, it’s not… there anymore, I… Oh! Uh… MARTIN: J–J–Jon, what’s wrong? ARCHIVIST: Uh, it’s, uh… I’m sorry, trying to know things about them directly, i–i–it’s like… [STATIC DECREASES] [EXHALE] God, it’s like looking into the Sun…! MARTIN: Okay, okay – okay, alright, that’s alright.

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what? […] Wi–without… trust, without a, a reason… Gertrude needed both the purpose her mission gave her, and the control her position allowed. To be here, like us, without a, [INHALE] a reason, without someone to ground her, she… She’d have power but… no control. No real… purpose. Perhaps she’d dedicate herself to a, a doomed quest like us, but– … [QUIET] No… I think this would have broken her. And she’d have resigned herself to… ruling her domain. […] MARTIN: [INHALE] [SNORT] Ssso. If you say Gertrude wouldn’t have been able to go on without a reason… ARCHIVIST: Yes, Martin, you are my reason. MARTIN: Just wanted to make you say it…! ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] MARTIN: Cool.

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: I feel badly for those that exist in his domain, o–of course, I do, but… At least, their suffering will be over, eventually.

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: M–Martin, if you… did; i–if you wanted to forget… a–all of it, stay here and just… escape. I… I would understand. MARTIN: … N–no…! It’s comforting here, leaving all those… painful memories behind, but… It’s not a good comfort, it’s… I–it’s the kind that makes you fade, makes you… dim and… distant.

(MAG171) MARTIN: Jon. We are… doing good, right? Making things better? ARCHIVIST: … I don’t know if that was… ever an option.

(MAG173) ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what you want me to do! MARTIN: I want you to use your power, I want you to help them, I want you to make things better! ARCHIVIST: There – is – no – “better” anymore. MARTIN: You keep saying that, and I hate it! ARCHIVIST: I keep saying it because it keeps being true, you know that! […] MARTIN: [INHALE] [CLEARER] The sooner we get back to the Archives, the sooner we can put a stop to this. All of this. They just… [INHALE] They’ll just need to hang on a little longer. ARCHIVIST: … Right. [EXHALE] Right. MARTIN: Come on.

After the surge of hope towards the end of MAG162, Jon has made more and more small comments implying that he doesn’t think that there is a “better” solution (theirs is a “doomed quest”, Oliver’s victims will ~at least~ die, Martin staying in his domain would have been a way to “escape”, etc.) I wonder what is happening in Jon’s mind: is it the journey starting to take its toll on him, things feeling hopeless because he has to face the concreteness of this new world, which feels all-powerful, too complicated, too big, impossible to undo? Or did he “know” something that he hasn’t told Martin, back in MAG164, or did he drew from there the conclusion that it was impossible to get rid of the Fears? In any case: it’s good that Martin is still pushing for hope and for a solution. What would be the alternative? Just stopping and getting a domain to rule over? Keeping on with the journey through the horrors forever ~since at least they’re together uwu~?

- Re: Jon apparently not daring to hope (anymore) vs. Martin accidentally sounding very bossy and ignorant by wanting Jon to save things… at the core of it, I think that there is a misunderstanding between them regarding Jon’s powers, which makes sense for both of them.

For Jon: his powers can’t do much good. Growing as an Archivist came with taking live-statements and condemning people to his nightmare zoo, where he could only watch and not intervene (with mentions that he used to try). Saving Melanie and Daisy, annihilating the Dark Sun, was accompanied by new victims, constantly tortured, leaving them a wreck. He never “saved the world”: The Unknowing would have failed on its own with no intervention necessary, and Melanie was right to point out that them trying to do good… had invariably caused bad things all around. Saving Martin meant getting his last mark, setting him up for Jonah’s apocalypse.

But for Martin: Jon saved him from The Lonely twice. Martin’s own “powers” (disappearing in front of Georgie, his Lonely training) never came at the cost of sacrificing innocents – only himself. And Jon was able to stop hurting innocents when monitored, after Martin took Jess Tyrell’s complaint: bad people, bad avatars, would keep hurting people. But it seems that in Martin’s mind, there are still “good” ways to use one’s powers (saving people, smiting avatars) without negative consequences – which… isn’t really the case. The powers are granted by the Fears to provide more fear for the Fears.

(- Amongst the sad things regarding Martin’s horror at being a passive witness to the children’s suffering: technically, it was long-due as a horror, since the very beginning of the show. They knew, as Team Archive, that the things happening out there were hurting actual people, real people. That some of them were still alive. Jon began season 4 lightly apologising about their passivity, in the Web’s web-development statement. Martin is horrified at their passivity now, but technically… they’ve never really tried to help people for the sake of helping people — the worst cases being Jon’s own victims.)

(- I shouldn’t hoooooope but ;; The fact that Jon seems to be reaching rock-bottom re:hope and being unable to do anything good, to make things “better”… still makes me wonder if he might not manage to get Daisy back for a short while.

Alternatively: that would be the rock-bottom. To have to smite her, or to help Basira in killing her as promised… because there is no other option.)

- Right now, Jon and Martin indeed feel powerless, but there are various elements contributing to this. First: at the beginning of the journey, reaching the Panopticon was supposed to be the start to trying to undo the apocalypse, not the final objective; right now, as they go through domain after the domain and the horrors are more concrete, it’s easy to forget that the journey wasn’t supposed to be their answer and solution.

Jon is also getting his powers from Beholding, who has never been a passive agent when it comes to knowledge – Jon had noted how hard it had been to listen to MAG154’s tape (containing a way to… cut one’s connection to The Eye), and had even expressed his difficulty with burning Gerry’s page because of the knowledge it could still provide. When Jon had tried to know how to get rid of the fears in MAG164, he had noted that knowing about the Powers was more intense – and had to quickly stop. Why would The Eye nurture the hope of undoing the apocalypse making it all-powerful?

Meanwhile, Martin has noticed that he was “always following, never leading”, doesn’t have a clear understanding of the domains, doesn’t have powers, which… seems to limit his options. He’s also proved to be able to think outside-of-the-box when it came to providing plans, in the past, and had sometimes displayed a more “intuitive” feel of the powers (with Peter and Simon), so that could come in handy – just… not in the current environment.

Overall: Martin and Jon are limited right now, having trouble understanding themselves and conveying it to the other (but are still trying!), and clearly in need of other perspectives… So here’s to hoping that Melanie&Georgie, Basira (… and potentially Daisy but I don’t wanna hope TT_TT) could help. I doubt that the entirety of season 5 would be a hopeless exploration of this apocalyptical world in which everyone suffers almost-forever and then dies?

… The other option right now is Annabelle, who had told Martin that she was calling “to help”: given that Jon&Martin are lacking options… Martin could be a bit more open this time if she tries to reach him again – or at least, listen to what she has to say, even if it’s only venom.

New organisation for season 5, as announced everywhere!

I see absolutely no downside to this as a listener: I’m glad that RQ are allowing themselves more time to work on the show safely and remotely (operating safely during the pandemic means that the logistics of almost everything has changed, you can’t expect people to keep up), I’m glad that the series is lasting longer time-wise (yay!), I’m glad that I’ll have two 6-weeks-break to breathe a bit /o/ And honestly, if they end up needing more time and have to space out episodes/hiatuses for even a bit longer, full support, I hope that they won’t hesitate if it’s deemed necessary (or even healthy!).

Curious about the fragmentation in three acts – that’s another structure of tragedy, it… could mean that we’re technically in the “prologue” to the core of the season? Well, the segmentation in three is also interesting for events: we’re currently in the journey towards the domain, there are only Vast, Hunt and Spiral remaining, which could mean that MAG176 is the last zone before the Panopticon, and then… And then. Act I being the journey, Act II and Act III regarding the Panopticon (research into the Archives) and Hill Top Road? Eye-arc and Web-arc? (I’m still a bit “MMMM” about a few words said during one of the Q&A, which could imply time/timelines shenanigans at some point…)

MAG174’s title is… well, my adjective for it would be the title itself, damnit. I… It… it could be the perfect title for a Vast domain (Simon, where are you.) AND for monster!Daisy barging in into that domain, WorriedForDaisy.jpg

#the magnus archives #tma liveblog #tma season 5 #tma spoilers #mag173 #long post/

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dirtydobrik · 5 years

Text

make a move - d.d.

plot: you’re crushing on david and wonder what he thinks about you, so you flirt with someone to see if it’ll make him jealous and he does the same

requested: yes, by anon! Can you do an imagine where the reader and David really like each other and they’ve even kissed before. But the reader is waiting for David to finally make a move and ask her out so she tries to make him jealous and it works? But instead he tries to make her jealous back and there’s a lot of tension between them and then one of them finally breaks and confesses their feelings? You’re writing is so good!

author’s note: hi! this was requested anonymously so hopefully it was something similar to what you wanted. if you want to send in a request for an imagine, send me a message!

word count: 1630

masterlist

You weren't sure where you stood with David lately. After that night in Chicago, you thought he'd want to make a move or define what you guys were, but he hasn't. You didn't want to ask him about it, fearing it might've just been a one time thing and you'd come off as clingy. But you were crushing hard and you wanted answers.

"Try to make him jealous," Corinna stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What? Why?" you questioned, giving her a puzzled look.

"Say you flirt with a random guy at a party, right?" You nodded, following along. "If David gets jealous it means he likes you. He wouldn't get jealous if he doesn't feel anything for you."

Her logic and explanation made sense, so the only appropriate thing to do was go to the same party as him and openly flirt with another guy.

The following night, David sent a group text about a party he was going to since he needed vlog footage. Corinna pulled a tight red dress from her closet that hugged you in all the right places and you paired it with white heeled ankle boots. You changed up your usual makeup routine, going for more a glam look as opposed to the light makeup you typically wore.

You were all meeting at David's to pregame before going to the party and you felt his eyes glued to you, but he didn't say anything like you thought he would.

You all piled into the back of the Tesla and you squeezed yourself between Natalie and Jeff. You noticed David constantly looking in the rearview mirror and you inched yourself closer to Jeff. His jaw tensed and he finally relaxed it when you leaned away, making you think that he was jealous.

When you got to the party, you grabbed Corinna's hand and headed straight for the bathroom. You told her about his face in the car ride over and she told you to flirt with someone besides Jeff to let David know that you were keeping your options open. She then dragged you in to the kitchen to get some drinks.

You found yourself dancing between Corinna and Natalie a little while later, having them help you chose the lucky guy. When you finally settled on one you took a shot of tequila for liquid courage and stumbled over to him to say hello.

Flirting with him was harder than you expected it to be. You'd bat your eyelashes and giggle at the things he was saying, but the entire time you were wishing it was David standing in front of you, not some guy who's name you couldn't be bothered to remember. His hands were gripping your hips and you were grinding on him when you noticed David staring, his eyes dark and his smile gone. You tossed your head back, pretending to enjoy this, feeling David's eyes on you.

You whispered something to the guy you were dancing with, grabbed his arm, and weaved your way through the crowd, searching for an empty room. Corinna gave you a thumbs up and nodded her head in David's direction, silently telling you that he was watching.

A few moments later you felt David's hand on your shoulder. You spun around to face him and he looked pissed.

"What?" you asked, annoyance in your voice.

"I'm heading out in ten. Are you going to need a ride?" He eyed the guy standing behind you, your hand was still on his arm.

You glanced back at him, not sure if you wanted to keep up with making David jealous or just leave. "No, I should be all set, right?" you asked, directing the question to the guy behind you.

“I can take you home. Don’t worry about it,” he said and you gave him a smile before turning back to David.

“Are you sure?” David questioned, clearly worried about you. You nodded, telling him that you would get home just fine. “Okay, well call me if you end up needing one,” he said, skeptical to leave you alone with someone you didn’t know.

A few minutes later, he rounded up his friends and they piled into his Tesla, leaving you alone.

You sent Corinna a text, asking for an update on David and she said he was being particularly quiet and he looked mad. You were pleased, you knew he was jealous and that meant he was into you. But now you were alone with a stranger.

You chatted with a few people you had met in passing and at other parties, losing the guy in the crowd of people along the way. You had no desire to find him again and you really just wanted to go home. You pulled your phone out, only to find that it was dead and you let out a loud sigh before flopping on to the couch.

“Rough night?” a familiar voice asked, and you turned to see Todd standing behind you.

“I thought you left with everyone else?” you said, although it came out as a question.

“David asked me to stay and keep an eye out on you. He said he got weird vibes from the guy you were with and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you insisted, standing up and following Todd through the crowd to the front door and out to his car. On the drive home, Todd said he needed to stop at David's and you rolled your eyes, knowing David would have something to say as soon as you walked in.

And sure enough, his voice echoed throughout the living room when you opened the front door. "What are you doing here?"

You noticed a girl you didn't recognize sitting a little too close to David, making you feel uneasy. He slung his arm around her shoulder when he noticed you looking at her and waited for you to answer the question.

"Got over the guy I was with pretty quickly and didn’t want to stay at the party anymore," you shrugged, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and joining him, Todd, the random girl, and a few of your other friends on the couch. You avoided eye contact with David and pretended the girl he was with wasn't making you jealous.

It wasn't until you saw him cup his hand over her ear and whisper something to her before standing up and walking towards his room that you felt your heart shatter. He was using the same moves he watched you pull on the guy from the party, but you had no physical reaction. You didn't want him to know he was making you jealous. And besides, you knew he wasn't the type for one night stands. He didn't like doing anything with a girl unless there were feelings involved, which is why you were confused to be getting mixed signals after the night in Chicago.

David and the girl stayed in his room for the rest of the night and you had fallen asleep on the floor in the living room cuddling with Zane. You woke up early, before the sun was up, the night before coming back to you all at once. You made yourself a coffee and, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, you opened the door to the backyard.

A few minutes later, the sun was starting to peak through the clouds and you heard rustling behind you. Turning slowly, you saw David walking over to you.

"Why are you up?" you asked.

"Haven't gone to sleep yet. I was up all night editing."

"You expect me to believe that you weren't with that girl all night?" you scoffed and David let out a chuckle. "What?"

"I brought her into my room to have her leave without you knowing."

"You're a dick."

"Someone's a little jealous," he teased, poking your shoulder. You flipped him off in return.

"It's not nice to mess with people's feelings, Dobrik."

"Oh, fuck you. You did the exact same thing at the party," he defended, and you didn’t know what to say back, because it was true.

"I only did it because Corinna told me to. She said it would be the fastest way to figure out how you feel about me."

"Funny. She gave me the same advice," he said and your eyes shot up. She was unbelievable.

“So, where do you stand?” you questioned, not wanting to be the first one to admit your feelings.

“Well, if you were trying to make me jealous, and it worked, I think you have your answer. And if I was trying to make you jealous, and that work, then I think you know my answer,” he paused, running his fingers through his hair. “I like you. I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” you whispered, taking a step closer to him. “Are you going to make a move or what?” you giggled.

“You’re ruining the moment,” he answered, fidgeting his fingers. “Will you go on a date with me sometime?” he asked.

“You’re going to have to be a lot more specific,” you teased.

“Ok, fine. Tomorrow night, 7pm.”

“You’ve got yourself a date,” you smiled, draping one of your arms around his neck, the other still holding your mug.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night in Chicago,” David confessed.

“I haven’t either,” you admitted. “I thought if I said something you would think I was being clingy and that you wanted to only be a one time thing.”

“That is so far from the truth,” David laughed, and you laughed with him. “I just didn’t want to get rejected.”

You gasped. “Who could ever reject you?”

#david dobrik #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik one shot #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fanfiction #sad david dobrik #david dobrik fluff #david dobrik smut #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad fanfic #vlog squad fluff #toddy smith #corinna kopf #david dobrik x you #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik blurb #david dobrik fic #vlog squad fic

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ohshcscenerios · 4 years

Note

Haruhi with #3 "The Number Three" I'm curious to know what this prompt entails.

If you recognize this game please do not attempt for yourself, thank you.

Haruhi took a deep breath until her chest began to ache and slowly and quietly exhaled through her nose. She was calm, she felt calm, but Hikaru’s words of warning continued to ring in her head.

You have to stay calm, don’t fidget, don’t look directly at the mirrors, and don’t let the candle die.

At first she was completely against the silly game. Kaoru had found something on the internet a week ago and since then they had debated testing its authenticity. It intrigued them but it also terrified them... which is why Haruhi found herself brought into their plans.

There were so many steps, so may strict rules, and it had to be conducted perfectly - or else.

She didn’t know what the “or else” would be and she didn’t care to know. Truthfully, she was a too scared to know.

She didn’t want to admit her fear, knowing it could give the twins the satisfaction they craved, but a swell of anxiety grew in her chest with every deep breath she breathed. The cool air gently blowing on her back spread goosebumps down her spine, making her shiver every so often.

Don’t fidget, don’t look directly at the mirrors, and don’t let the candle die.

The cool air gently blowing on her back spread goosebumps down her spine, making her shiver every so often. Sitting in a dark room was unsettling enough but having her nerves senses constantly stimulated by the dim candle, the cool air, and the darkness around her was beginning to spark her fight-or-flight instincts.

Her mind could sense something was wrong but her logical personality wanted to piece together the danger before making rash decisions. Part of her - most of her - knew she had nothing to be afraid of and reasoned the small triggers in the room was sparking her anxiety, but a small part of her whispered otherwise... that there was a true threat residing in the room with her.

Beside her.

As she wandered into her thoughts she began to drum her fingers against her left thigh, completely unaware.

Don’t look directly at the mirrors and don’t let the candle die.

The candle flickered briefly, pulling Haruhi from her thoughts. She blinked a few times and waited a moment for the fog to leave her mind. She had lost track of time a while ago but she couldn’t check her cell phone. She was only allowed to bring it as a back up, or that’s what the twins said at least.

She quietly sneered, wondering why this complicated game had to be so limited. It would have made more sense to simply direct her into a dark room, hold a candle to her chest, and sit there for an hour until someone opened the door for her. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about why she kept her cellphone in her back pocket but couldn’t touch it, why she ha to hold a candle to her front while a fan blew on her back, and why she had to sleep with an important heirloom - a hair ribbon her mother used to tie her hair back with.

It all seemed to complicate the game to unreasonable lengths and actually took away its authenticity. She wasn’t sure if she believed in the supernatural but she did believe in Heaven. With that, how could she be sure anything was even happening? She was just a silly girl sitting in a silly dark room looking silly for her silly friends.

There was a way to test if anything was truly happening...

She felt her eyes wandering to her right side. Something deep within her barked for her to stop. She felt the command echo throughout her body and it paused her eyes for a moment. She waited to hear the voice again but when she heard nothing she continued...

She looked directly to her right at the chair turned toward her with a small mirror propped against the back. She saw her reflection in the dim candle light, what she expected, and scoffed.

“I knew it-”

Her eyes caught a shadowed figure moving just behind her in the mirror. It was unmistakable, even in the dark room, that something had moved.

She whipped around to face the chair to her left, situated in the same manner as the one on the right, and to her horror saw her reflection staring back...

...smiling...

Don’t let the candle die.

“Hikaru!”

She immediately jumped to her feet to run out of the room but in doing so dropped the candle onto the floor. It blew out before it hit the carpet.

She darted for the open door but it slammed closed before she could reach it.

#ouran high school host club #haruhi fujioka #the number three #horror prompt list #horror

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mitchsmarners · 5 years

Text

you’re the one who talks me down.

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] rating: explicit chapter warnings: drinking, internalized homophobia, explicit sexual content word count: 7,120 chapter count: 1 of ? summary: “It’s sort of like a game.” Eddie suddenly felt overwhelming bold. “When I... When I watch your show. I would try to figure out what was you, and what was written for you. I think I did pretty much, especially now that I know you actually don’t write your own stuff.” Richie chuckled, but he continued to give Eddie a slightly confused look. “I thought you said you didn’t know me? How could you tell I didn’t write my own stuff?”

read on ao3.

perma taglist: @jwilliambyers, @eddiecare, @kasbprak @ripeddiekaspbrak, @appojoos, @sloppybitchrich, @aizeninlefox, @chaotickaspbrak, @eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @purplepoisonedgem, @edstozler, @emgays, @anellope, @thorn-harvester-ven, @wheezyeds, @tozierpunks (also let me know if you want added!)

“So my ex-girlfriend caught me masturbating to her friend’s Facebook page...”

Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffing, but he didn’t turn the radio off. It wasn’t to say that Eddie was obsessed with this guy. Eddie wasn’t the type to follow celebrities or even really care, and this guy... he wasn’t even a real celebrity. He was just some random guy who does stand up on cable television. He wasn’t even that funny, he was vulgar and sometimes it seemed like even he didn’t enjoy his own jokes. Something about the guy called to Eddie, drew him in and he couldn’t help himself from watching every time his trashy show came on the TV.

Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier. Whenever somebody asked him, he didn’t have an answer to why he liked him so much. Nothing about his act was Eddie’s style, or something he’d enjoy. Outside of Eddie, his own girlfriend was the only person who knew that Eddie watched the show- and she expressed her displeasure about it every time.

Oh, Eddie bear, you shouldn’t watch such things! The language is just terrible, the jokes aren’t funny! We should watch something much better, this isn’t a good show, Eddie, Eddie can we please put on something else? I hate this show!

Eddie sometimes thought that Myra hated it so much because Eddie loved it, and she feared that. Truthfully, her hatred of it only served to make Eddie want to watch it more. And somehow, it became a thing for him. Watching this terrible comedy show, seeing if it would ever get a laugh out of him. And sometimes... sometimes it did. Sometimes the Trashmouthed comedian would hit a joke just right, and Eddie wouldn’t be able to stop laughing. The kind of laugh that put an ache in his chest, a kind of laughter that he didn’t think he’d felt anywhere before. At least not in a very long time. The laughter itself was familiar in a sense, but Eddie wasn’t sure where he’d laughed like that before. Certainly not any time in his memory.

Myra was waiting in Eddie’s apartment when he got home. They’d been together less than a year- nine months, Eddie told himself. Nine months together- but Myra had spent most of her time in Eddie’s apartment since they’d begun dating. She’d even started dropping hints that she thought that they should move in together officially- all things that Eddie had attempted to dodge that conversation whenever it had come up.

Nine months was too soon to think about moving in together. Way too soon.

“Hey, Myra.” Eddie tossed his car keys onto the table. Eddie’s apartment was small, the perfect size he needed for himself. A bedroom, a bathroom and joined living room/kitchen. There was a laundry room downstairs and the laundry card was included with rent. His bedroom even had a window, even if it was just the view of a back alley and garbage bins. “How was your day?”

Because Eddie asked her about her day, even when Eddie knew she sat around his apartment all day doing nothing. In the last nine months, Myra had worked less and less until Eddie couldn’t remember the last time she’d worked. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her leave the apartment that wasn’t with him.

“You’re late.” Myra replied, and Eddie cringed. He turned around, preparing himself for the wide, puppy eyed look his girlfriend would be giving him. Sure enough, she was putting on the full show right down to the trembling bottom lip. “You said you would be home at 4:30.”

It was only 4:45, but Eddie knew better than to argue. “I know, honey, I’m so sorry. My last charge went late, they had a big route. I had to drive around nearly the whole city, then back again. I thought I’d be home by 4:30 this morning, but things came up. I’m sorry.”

“What if I had prepared a dinner for you, Eddie?” Myra asked. “It would’ve been sitting here, getting cold!”

Myra had never made Eddie dinner once in their entire relationship. She always insisted that Eddie take her out for dinner or otherwise Eddie cooked. Which meant they went out for dinner a lot, because Eddie’s cooking skills had peaked at grilled cheese and assorted boxed pastas.

“Why would have had dinner at 4:30, Myra?” Eddie asked tiredly, running fingers through his hair. By the end of the day, his curls were always coming through. He tried to never draw attention to it because he knew Myra hated the curls- hated them the same way his mother had hated them while he was growing up. Hated how they made him look messy, anything else than perfectly put together.

Eddie didn’t always hate his curls, but he supposed it was easier to put them away and keep people happy rather than constantly fight against them. Everytime Eddie looked in the mirror before gelling his curls away, he got the oddest tug in his stomach. Some sort of vague memory that his brain couldn't touch. Then he’d slick the curls away, and the feelings would leave with them.

“Edward.” Myra said in that ugly, reprimanding tone that reminded Eddie so much of his mother that it made the hairs on his arms stand on end. “Don’t mess up your hair like that! It already looks so dirty when you get home. Take a shower and we can go out for dinner.”

“So, if you didn’t have dinner waiting then what are being you so pissy about?”

The words tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth before they’d touched his brain. His mouth just pushed them out without a single thought. Absolutely no regard for his self preservation, it almost felt like he wasn’t Eddie at all. But maybe he was. Maybe he was more Eddie than he’d been in a long time.

“You can’t talk to me like that! Eddie!” Myra burst into loud, messy sobs but Eddie saw then that not a single tear was dripping down her face. “You’re supposed to love me! You don’t talk to people you love like that!”

What about how you talk to me everyday? Eddie didn’t let the words leave his mouth this time, but it really fought against him. In his fight not to say the horrible thing, he said what was probably a much worse thing. “When did I say I loved you?”

The words dropped into the room but didn’t explode. The couple stood on either side of the room, just staring at one another. Eddie was half holding his breath, readying himself for the break down. It wouldn’t be the first time that Eddie had said something that set Myra off with a little thing he said- and this was a much, much worse thing.

When a single tear began to slip down Myra’s cheek, Eddie clenched his jaw and readied himself for the absolute worst.

“Eddie, how could say something like that to me?” Myra sobbed loudly, placing her hands over her eyes. Which was safe for them both, since Eddie immediately rolled his eyes at her voice. “How could you say that? Just because you’re tired doesn’t mean you can be so mean!”

“I wasn’t tired until I got home.” Eddie snapped. “So, maybe I should just go back out!”

Myra’s nostrils flared, and her fists clenched. Eddie backed up slightly, but clenched his jaw all the same. “Eddie. Go take a shower and we will go out for dinner. Then we can come home and go to bed, and we’ll both feel better in the morning.”

“I never feel better in the morning!” Eddie shouted. “It’s never better.”

The silence rang between for them a long time, Eddie’s chest heaving. Myra glowered deeply at him. “You’ve been listening to that disgusting comedian again, haven’t you? You always get like this after you’ve listened to him!”

Eddie stalled, the words clicking around inside his brain. Almost turning into a full thought. Almost, almost, almost. Why did Eddie feel like his whole life had been one big almost? His chest began to get very tight, and he found himself reaching for the inhaler in his pocket but he froze. Eddie didn’t need an inhaler, he just needed to get out of this building.

“I have to go.” Eddie said sharply, stumbling towards the door. He could hear Myra crying after him. “I have to go. I’m sorry. I can’t do this, I have to go.”

Myra followed him to the door of the apartment, but didn’t go any further. As Eddie knew she wouldn’t. Maybe it wasn’t exactly winning any argument, running away like that, but Eddie knew well enough that Myra would never chase him down.

Eddie ran all the way down the 15 flights of stairs to get from his apartment to the ground, and then made it all the way to his car before he realized that he’d left his car keys on the kitchen table.

Groaning, Eddie ran his fingers through the already messed up curls. It wasn’t the smartest idea to go wandering around the streets of New York when the sun was starting to set, but there was no way in hell Eddie was going back up into that apartment with his tail between his legs. Sure, it was his and he logically could just kick her out but something about going back in the first place just felt too much like admitted defeat. She wasn’t going to win this time.

Stuffing his hands into his back pockets, Eddie started his slow walk down the streets. He had no destination in mind, no plan at all. No destination, and nothing to be sure of when he got home either. Except that when he got there, Myra would be sitting up waiting for him.

So Eddie walked. He walked and he walked until he something finally caught his eye. A bright sign, pink and yellow. It certainly wasn’t the first light that Eddie had seen on his walk, there had been more and more as the sky had gotten dark. Hundreds of colourful signs, none meaning anything. But this one... this one brought Eddie to a pause.

It was a bar, which hadn’t been Eddie’s scene since college. He supposed he’d spent more of his first year of college in the campus bars than in any of his classes. It had many been the time of his life, freshly free from his mother and spending his nights with his tongue down the throats of random, different-

Eddie cringed, the back of his head almost started to ache. Like his whole brain was trying to claw its way free from his skull while he stared at this stupid, bright bar sign. He shouldn’t go in, logic told him.

Maybe Eddie Kaspbrak was fucking tired of logic, though.

The music in the bar was fucking horrible, that was the first thing Eddie noticed when he got inside. The next thing, of course, was the smell of sweat with a hint of sex, but that was to be expected. Eddie knew that smell, it was an old friend. Disgusting as it was, it was comforting. Freeing.

Eddie waved through the crowds of people towards the bar and sat down, pleasantly surprised when he found the stools twirled under his ass. Giggling to himself, Eddie turned the chair back around to the pretty bartender, who was watching him with a smile.

“Well there, sweetie.” She laughed. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing to walk through those doors all night. You better keep an eye on yourself, cutie, because they’re gonna be coming at you like flies to honey.”

Eddie chuckled a little awkwardly, ordering his drink. Vodka cranberry, something he hadn’t touched in almost five years. Now whenever Eddie indulged in any sort of drinking, it was a soft blush wine with his dinner. His mother had never approved of alcohol in the house growing up, and while Myra was a fan of wine herself, she was always quick to pass judgement on Eddie after more than glass.

Alcohol is bad for your health, Eddie bear! It will react poorly with your medication! You’re not supposed to drink when you’re taking medicine!

But Eddie was always taking medicine, he was sure he had been his whole life. Alcohol had never bothered it before, he doubted it was going to start now. Turning away, sipping his drink through the little black straw, Eddie finally got a look at the place around him. He couldn’t help himself from rolling his eyes. Of course this is where his feet would take him.

Girls up on one another, men kissing each other in corners. Eddie swallowed roughly, thinking on how his stomach should be turning but instead was it was flaring up with heat. He sipped a little more dedicatedly, thinking to himself about how he should be leaving. This isn’t where he was supposed to be because he wasn’t... he wasn’t...

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

Eddie’s heart pretty much fell out of his ass at the voice in his ear. He let out a small squeak and nearly ended up falling out of his bar stool. The man... oh god, the man... looked startled, reaching out quickly to help Eddie settle back in his seat.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, dude.” He laughed, running his hands through his hair. It was slightly greasy looking, and there was some sort of dark stain on his yellow shirt. It was gross and Eddie’s entire body felt overly hot.

“You’re.... you’re Richie Tozier.” Eddie gasped.

Richie Tozier’s eyes widened and he broke into a huge smile. “So we did know each other! I thought you looked fucking familiar-”

“No, no, we’ve never met.” Eddie quickly corrected him. “I just... I watch your show. That’s all. You don’t know me.”

Richie suddenly leaned away, eyes wide. “I’ve been coming to this bar once a month for nearly two years, and I’ve never been recognized before. Gay people.... don’t watch my shit, I don’t think. Or if they do, they don’t say anything because they don’t wanna talk to the not-funny guy.”

Eddie snorted.

Richie narrowed his eyes. “You know, if you watch my show that probably means you’ve got bad taste. I should probably leave right now.”

“You’re criticizing my taste for watching your shows, but they’re literally your shows.”

“I don’t write my own jokes.” Richie snickered, signalling to the bartender for a refill of his drink.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Eddie cheered, pushing the straw away from his cup and chugging the rest of the drink. The bartender placed a new drink in front of them both, Richie nodding at her with a smile.

Richie laughed, and it felt like it tickled something at the back of Eddie’s mind.

“It’s sort of like a game.” Eddie suddenly felt overwhelming bold. “When I... When I watch your show. I would try to figure out what was you, and what was written for you. I think I did pretty well, especially now that I know you actually don’t write your own stuff.”

Richie chuckled, but he continued to give Eddie a slightly confused look. “I thought you said you didn’t know me? How could you tell I didn’t write my own stuff?”

Eddie felt himself blush and prayed it wasn’t noticeable under the darkness of the bar. “I don’t know, but I feel like I could just tell. When you were being yourself, and when you were being somebody you were pretending to be.”

Richie looked like he been clubbed over the back of the head, and Eddie frowned. Silence fell over them for a moment, conversation replaced with the mulling sounds from the bar behind them.

“Uhm,” Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly. He leaned in towards Richie, then quickly leaned away again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that's just...” Richie smiled with a look of disconnect. “Just reminded me of ... something.”

Eddie nodded as he picked up his drink and began to sip at it again. “So you said you come here once a month? I’ve never heard anything about you being gay.”

Richie scratched at his cheek as he chuckled. “Well, like I said... I don’t really get recognized here, because nobody here really knows anything about my show. So, this is a safe place for me. I can be whatever I want here.”

Eddie felt a weird mixture of discomfort and familiarity settle in his chest, and he nodded. “I guess you can’t really come out when all the jokes they make for you are about fucking women.”

Richie nodded, then shrugged a little bit. He tossed back his entire drink in one go. “That’s always been my thing. As a kid, before I told anybody, I made jokes about fucking women. I was balls deep in a chick from the age of eleven, if my stories are to be believed.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, I get that. It’s probably not easy to be out when you’re trying to be a big hot shot. Not that it’s working for you.”

“Hey.” Richie pointed at Eddie and waggled his eyebrows. “You can’t even talk, cutie. You knew who I was.”

Eddie groaned loudly as he twisted in his chair again. “Don’t call me cute.”

“I didn’t call you cute.” Richie said. “I called you cutie. There’s a very distinct difference.”

The beat of the music suddenly changed from something borderline country and annoying to something with a slicker beat, something that pulsed right in Eddie’s stomach. He shifted closer to Richie, his hand touching Richie’s where it was wrapped around his glass. “What’s the difference then?”

Richie blinked at him, his mouth opened slightly before he smirked. He leaned into Eddie’s space, facing inches apart. “The difference is you aren’t just cute- you’re fucking hot.”

Eddie gasped, his hands shook as he pushed forward. He cupped the back of Richie’s hair, tugged his face forward and kissed him harshly. He felt Richie gasp against his mouth, his hands came down and gripped Eddie’s thighs.

“Shit.” Richie mumbled against Eddie’s mouth as he squeezed Eddie’s thighs. “Who are you?”

“I’m the guy who’s about to make your night a fuck ton of a lot more interesting.” Eddie said as he yanked Richie back in for a rougher kiss. He pushed himself forward until he was out of his stool, standing above Richie and forcing his head back to kiss deeper.

Eddie had nearly climbed into Richie’s lap right there at the bar when Richie let out a rough laugh. “I’m as interested in exhibitionism as the next guy, but I think this might be a little much. I’m not looking to get arrested.”

Eddie let out a soft sigh and he dug his nails into Richie’s hair. He gave it a sharp, testing tug and Richie groaned. “Then take me somewhere else, Richie.”

Richie jumped to his feet, his chest collided with Eddie’s and nearly made him fall back into his seat. Richie’s hand gripped tight at Eddie’s and the next thing he knew, he was tugged through the crowds of drunk strangers and shoved into a bar bathroom stall.

“Fuck.” Eddie whimpered when Richie’s lips immediately connected to Eddie’s neck, hands pressed against the stall on either side of Eddie’s head. Eddie melted into him, hands curled tight in Richie’s hair, pushing his knees up to cage Richie in as much as he could without being wrapped around him completely.

Eddie felt Richie’s hard cock pressed against him through both their jeans and Eddie couldn’t hold back the moan that tumbled out from his lips. Richie grunted against him, his hips rolled forward and Eddie’s head smacked against the wall.

“Jesus fucking Christ.... Richie...” Eddie whimpered as he pulled on the curls. There was something inside of him that told him what he needed to do, it was such a natural process. His body knew Richie, what Richie wanted. He was too caught up in his own feelings to give it a second thought as he rubbed himself down against Richie’s leg.

“I don’t normally do this,” Eddie babbled. Richie let out a soft moan against Eddie’s neck, then tug his teeth into the skin. Eddie cried out, eyes closed tight. He shook his head against and moaned. “I… I don’t do this.. I don’t… You… I….”

“It’s okay,” Richie said. A hand made its way up Eddie’s shirt, blunt nails ran down his sides. Eddie gave a full body shudder.

“Shit, I-” Eddie was already further gone than he had ever been on the rare occasions that he and Myra had had sex. This was leagues different, something Eddie hadn’t felt in so long he couldn’t remember the last time it had happened for him. Sure as hell not like this.

“This is so good, you’re so good, why is this so good…” Eddie openly whimpered against Richie’s ear, prompting Richie’s nails to dig into his skin deeper. Eddie let out a small, almost pitiful whine at the bite of pain.

Richie’s hand pressed against Eddie’s cheek, pressing his finger tips into the skin. “Shhh…” Richie whispered before sucking a small mark against Eddie’s collar bone. “You’re being too loud. Do you want somebody to hear you?”

Eddie moaned.

He felt Richie’s teeth graze against his skin before a huff of breath that could only be a laugh ghosted over him. “You do, don’t you? Got a kink there? Wanna get caught? Want people to see you like this?”

Eddie bucked against Richie, back arched and eyes squeezed shut. “You’re not fucking me in a bathroom stall. There’s too many fucking germs. I’m not getting some nasty diseases for a little dick.”

“Trust me, baby. It’s not little.” Richie whispered.

Eddie groaned, very much not out of pleasure and Richie pulled back. His brow was furrowed and a ghost of a smile sat on his face. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, and Eddie’s breath caught.

“So, what do you want to do?” Richie asked, hips pulsing up against Eddie’s.

Eddie choked out a moan. “You got an apartment?”

“I got a hotel room.” Richie said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“That fucking works.”

The cab ride back to Richie’s hotel room was oddly PG. Eddie could feel the nerves coming off of him, the risk of being seen, the risk of somebody knowing. Eddie supposed that he should have felt the same- the amount of people in this city that knew him, that had no idea about who he was, what he wanted- the risk was huge. But something about this- something about Richie fucking Tozier- took away any of the nerves he knew he should have been been feeling.

Eddie reached out and squeezed at Richie’s hand. Richie turned him and smiled. He gave him a short nod as they exited the cab, immediately dropping hands. They moved quickly through the hotel lobby and kept their distance from one another until Richie unlocked his room and they slipped inside.

Eddie was on him in a second. He backed Richie up against the door and yanked his shirt from his body. Eddie dropped forward, fingers pushed under Richie’s waist band, while he dropped open mouthed kisses all over his chest.

Richie moaned and pushed his hand into Eddie’s hair. Not pulling like Eddie had done earlier, but softly pushing the flop of hair out of Eddie’s face.

“God,” Richie sighed, the veins in his neck tensing out as Eddie sucked at the skin of his chest. “I fucking love those curls, god damn.”

Eddie’s heart stuttered, and his hips followed the motion. His hands rushed out and he yanked Richie’s jeans open and shoved them down his legs. Eddie’s breath hitched at the sight of Richie’s cock through some questionably patterned underwear, and he ducked forward to mouth at it through the fabric.

Richie tossed his head backwards, the smacking noise it made against the door ringing through the empty hotel room. Eddie chuckled against Richie’s cock then pressed his tongue against covered head.

“Can you…” Richie moaned as he stuffed his hand against his mouth. He dropped his hand and rested both in Eddie’s hair. “Please.”

Eddie froze, hands half-way pulling Richie free. He looked up at him through his lashes, and grinned. “It’s Eddie. By the way.”

Richie laughed and rubbed his fingers against Eddie’s scalp. Eddie hummed, eyes closed lightly. “Fuck. Thank you, I really didn’t wanna fucking ask you that now.”

Eddie reached into Richie’s underwear, and pulled his cock free. He couldn’t help the small moan that escaped him at the sight, and he refused to glance up and look at the smirk that he knew was on Richie’s face,

Richie made his amusement clear either way, of course. “See something you like?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie said seriously. “Or you can take care of this yourself.”

One of Richie’s hands dropped from Eddie’s hair to wrap around his own cock. He slowly stroked himself, stopping as he reached where Eddie’s hand was still wrapped around him. Eddie felt a weak noise get punched out of him as he watched Richie tease himself in his face.

“Is that what you want me to do?” Richie asked him in a low voice.

Eddie exhaled heavily before batting Richie’s hand away. He rested Richie’s cock in his open mouth and rubbed his tongue against the sensitive head. Richie’s exhale was long and shaky as his hands came down and rested on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Fuck, Eddie. Please.” Richie said, hands tensed into Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie took as much of Richie’s length into his mouth as he could manage in one go, almost impressed by how much he was able to fit. He’d known going into this that, of course, it wasn’t his first time with a dick in his mouth but he’d assumed that it would be slow moving for him. And yet… he rocked back into it like he was born to be doing it.

“Holy shit… Eds….”

Something about that unexpected nickname spilling from Richie’s mouth broke some sort of dam inside Eddie that he hadn’t noticed was holding him back. Eddie took a deep breath and swallowed Richie down, feeling his cock pressed against the back of his throat for a moment. He brought his hand up and cupped Richie’s balls, not quite a massage but a tease at the potential.

Richie whimpered- actually whimpered- as he gave shallow thrusts into Eddie’s mouth. He began to let out a steady stream of whispered curses, hands gripped tight on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie…” Richie groaned. “If you don’t stop this is going to be over way too fucking quick, Eddie… Eds, fuck…..”

Eddie sighed happily and he leaned backward, stripping Richie’s cock in front of his face. Richie stared down at Eddie, mouth hung open and pupils so dilated Eddie couldn’t tell where the brown began anymore.

“I’m gonna cum….” Richie almost coughed out as he took his cock from Eddie’s grip. He rested against the door as he caught his breath. Eddie felt like his body was on fire as he ripped his own jeans open and shoved his hand inside. As he palmed at his aching cock, he dropped forward and rested his head against Richie’s shin. He mouthed at Richie’s clothed length as he rocked into his own hand.

He was suddenly on his back as Richie dropped to his knees above him. He pulled Eddie’s hands out of his pants before he crawled forward and straddled Eddie’s hips. Eddie stared up at him, more than a little dazed. He couldn’t imagine how wrecked he must have looked in that moment, laid out on Richie’s hotel room floor, clothed hard on pushed through the opening of his jeans and shirt riding up to expose his stomach.

Richie’s eyes raked over Eddie, mouth open and eyes blown wide. He rubbed his hands up Eddie’s chest, caught the hem of his shirt and pulled it over Eddie’s head. He let out a small moan as he looked over Eddie’s bare torso, hands rested on the heated skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Eds.”

Eddie’s eyes rolled back in his head as Richie began to map out Eddie’s chest with his lips. He lapped against Eddie’s nipple. He sucked it into his mouth as he began to rut his hips upwards against Eddie’s.

Eddie moaned and grabbed at Richie’s back. “Holy shit, fucking hell… Why are we on the floor? Is your act so bad you can’t afford a hotel room with a fucking bed?”

Richie pulled back, sat perfectly on top of Eddie’s throbbing cock. “Do you always complain this much?”

Eddie shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Richie laughed as he leaned down to kiss him. He cupped Eddie’s cheeks with both hands while he kissed him almost too slowly and sweetly for what Eddie felt like this was. Eddie shoved at Richie’s chest, kissed his neck once gently then smiled up at him. “Bed, please.”

“You say please… yet it still sounds like a demand.” Richie said with a smirk while he grabbed Eddie underneath his thighs and scooped him up. Eddie’s arm wrapped around Richie’s neck, face pressed against Richie’s neck to hide his smile.

Richie tossed Eddie onto the bed and he pushed himself backwards against the pillows as he watched Richie rip his jeans and underwear off. His cock slapped up against his stomach but Eddie barely had a moment to be shook before Richie dropped down onto the bed and crawled over him.

Richie shoved at Eddie’s underwear, breathing heavily in Eddie’s ears as he freed him. They pressed together, bare skin everywhere and for a moment Eddie thought…. Have we done this before?

Richie pulled back with a long blink, mouth open as though he were going to speak. Going to mention the feeling that had rocked through them both. The recognition.

Eddie didn’t want to talk about it. He grabbed Richie by the neck and yanked him back down, kissing him hard and fast. It took Richie less than a second to get back into it, kissing Eddie in an almost frantic fashion. Eddie tugged at Richie��s curls as Richie rocked their bare cocks together.

“Fuck, please….” Eddie moaned and wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. He held him close, arms tight around Richie’s shoulders. Eddie shook around him while Richie pressed feather light kisses to his neck, where Eddie already knew there were bruises.

“Hey, listen…” Richie whispered in his ear. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m not one of those gross celebrity assholes… you can leave right now if that’s what you want.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along Richie’s jaw. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

Richie rocked softly against Eddie, their dicks sliding together, smooth with precum. Eddie whimpered, practically clawing at Richie’s back. He wondered for a fleeting moment if he was leaving scratches but pushed the thought away when Richie’s cock pressed against his just perfectly.

“Richie… Richie, I want you to fuck me.” Eddie cried out. “Do you have lube? A condom?”

“No, Eddie.” Richie deadpanned. “I went to a gay bar with absolutely no lube or condoms in my possession. I like living on the edge.”

Eddie chuckled and he dropped his head forward to rest on Richie’s chest. “Alright, alright, asshole. Just wanted to be sure. I haven’t… I haven’t done anything like this in a really long time.”

“What, are you like a virgin?” Richie chuckled, then immediately sobered. “Uh, that’s cool if you are. We can go slow…. Or we can just not, I mean, we don’t have to.”

“I’m not a fucking virgin!” Eddie snapped. “I lost my virginity when I was…” Eddie trailed off, frowning, unable to remember his first time. He’d been young, high school, he knew that but everything else, everything about it was blank. Just… gone. “I’m not a virgin.”

Richie leaned in, kissing him softly. Eddie ignored the butterflies he felt as Richie pulled away. “I’m going to get everything we need... If you’re sure.”

Eddie grabbed Richie face and pulled him down, nose touching but lips not. “Stop fucking asking me if I’m sure.”

“Consent is key, Eds.”

Why does he keep calling me that? Eddie thought as he watched Richie jump from the end of the bed and ruffle through his suitcase on the floor. And why do I feel like it’s important?

Richie launched himself back onto the bed, on his knees, his cock bobbing up and slapping him the stomach as he bounced. Eddie pressed his lips together to keep from laughing but Richie was already giggling as he crawled back over Eddie’s body.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed. “That was probably so not sexy at all.”

Eddie looped his arms around Richie’s shoulders. “It wasn’t.” Eddie pulled Richie down on top of him, kissing him slowly once. “But that’s okay. I’ll let you fuck me anyway.”

“Somebody must be gagging for it…” Richie sighed and squeezed the weight on Eddie’s hips. “How long has it been since you got a good dickin’?”

“I don’t know…” Eddie said honestly, head tilted back as Richie started stroking his cock slowly. “I… I fooled around in college, and there was.. Fuck… I think there was somebody important in high school but… I.. I had a girlfriend…”

Richie slowed his hand and looked slightly at Eddie. “Are you bi?”

Eddie closed his eyes, licked his lips. “No.” He said firmly. “I’m not. I never have been.”

Richie gave Eddie a sad smile before he slid down Eddie’s body, occasionally pressing a kiss to the skin as he moved down. He pushed Eddie’s thighs apart, and leaned in to suck a mark where Eddie’s thighs met his ass. Eddie shook, let out a whimper. “Please…”

Richie popped the bottle of lube opened and looked up at Eddie through his lashes. “Are you sure about this? Because it could be uncomfy… especially if you haven’t done this in a while and-”

“Richie.” Eddie sighed in frustration. “Just stick your fingers in me! This isn’t my first rodeo!”

Richie looked up at him for a moment before he raised his brow and chuckled. “Well, yeehaw.”

“Oh my God, never fucking mind. Do not fucking touch me.” Eddie cried as he kicked Richie lightly in the side of the head with his socked foot. Richie laughed, biting at Eddie’s calf. Eddie let out a loud shriek of a giggle, feet kicking at Richie’s face. “Go away you dirty kinky cowboy!!”

Richie flopped down on top of Eddie, chest to chest, and Eddie sighed. His arms wrapped around Richie’s back as he held Richie to him despite his own protests.

Richie kissed Eddie’s cheek. “We’re backtracking. I’m officially further away from having my fingers in your ass.”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s face and yanked him down, pressing his fingers against Richie’s jaw and forced his mouth open. He kissed him, hard and messy. It was all teeth and tongue and fucking spit… it should have been disgusting, but Eddie’s heart was almost yearning for something. For more. For exactly this always.

Their hips were rocking together again, and Eddie felt his orgasm building way too quick. Eddie dug his nails into the back of Richie’s neck and pulled away, panting. “Okay, you need to fuck me because I’m literally going to cum and you haven’t done shit to earn it.”

He expected Richie to laugh, but Richie just cocked a brow. He dove down Eddie’s body, and licked slowly up the length of Eddie’s cock. It twitched for attention as Richie pulled back, but Eddie only barely had the chance to slap a hand over his mouth to smother his whining as Richie began to mouth at his balls.

“Fuck……” Eddie moaned loudly and deeply as Richie began to rub his fingers over Eddie’s hole. Eddie’s thighs shook on either side of Richie’s head, and his stomach half-caved in with the weight of his breathing. “It’s like you… it’s like you know…”

Richie chuckled against Eddie’s skin before he pressed soft kisses to Eddie’s leaking cock, slowly working Eddie open with one finger. Eddie let out small, broken moans that grew louder and higher as Richie added a second finger and scissored them apart.

Richie sucked kisses to Eddie’s stomach, around his cock but he never put his mouth where Eddie longed for it. Eddie rolled his hips down onto Richie’s hand, letting out a deep groan from the back of his throat when Richie finally jabbed three fingers into him.

“Rich, come on, fuck me.” Eddie grabbed at Richie’s hair, tugged upwards. Richie hissed and bit down on Eddie’s hip. “Fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you when you’re ready.” Richie growled. He grabbed the bottle of lube from beside him and squeezed out what seemed like entirely too much lube into his free hand. Eddie cringed as Richie brought the hand closer to him, but he moaned as Richie rubbed it around his still pulsing fingers.

“Richie, I’m fucking serious…” Eddie whimpered as rode Richie’s fingers for all they were worth. The heat in his stomach was almost unbearable, threatened to swallow him up and cause him to burst into flames. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I could realistically die.”

Richie looked up, one brow raised. “What a way to go though….”

“Get your dick in me.” Eddie cried as he rolled his hips down frantically. Richie let out a soft little chuckle as he pulled his fingers free too quickly. Eddie choked out a moan at the sudden loss. He slapped his hands over his face, palms dug into his eyes until he saw stars. He felt Richie’s hands wrap around his wrists and pull them away. He frowned at down at Eddie, eyes soft. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Eddie nodded. He gave Richie a weak smile, and wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. Pulled him in close, right on top of him. He bit at Richie’s bottom lip, gave it a tug. “I’ll be great if you fuck me good.”

“Oh, trust me, Eds.” Richie chuckled. He grabbed the condom he’d rested beside them, ripped it open with his teeth, and slid it on slowly. Eddie felt his mouth water at the sight of him. He didn’t know he was making small whining noises, but Richie grinned at the sound.

He leaned back over Eddie’s body and rubbed the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole. When they both moaned, Eddie reached up and cupped the back of Richie’s head. He pressed their foreheads together. A broken, choked moan was pulled from Eddie’s throat as Richie finally bottomed out. Eddie clutched at the back of Richie’s neck. “Fuck….”

“Fuck is right.” Richie said, voice hoarse and half-broken. He rubbed his thumb under Eddie’s eye and watched them flutter shut. “You’re so beautiful, Eds.”

Eddie rocked down on Richie’s cock to draw out a rough moan. He gasped, and pushed down again. Richie whimpered against Eddie, then caught his lips in a rough kiss. Eddie panted against him as Richie began to rock his hips into him. He went slow, dragging himself out of Eddie to push back in slowly.

Eddie moaned and whined, kissing Richie back whenever he had a mind to do so. Eddie didn’t have much of a mind to do anything, anymore. His moved frantically, grabbed at Richie wherever he could. Tugged his hair, ran his nails down his back. Richie’s hips thrusted just that little bit rougher as Eddie’s nails broke through his skin.

“Please…. Please, faster.” Eddie curled his body up in the sort of over exposed position that he hated the idea of. He held Richie tightly against his body, his arms around Richie’s neck, legs tight around his waist. He could feel Richie mouthing anywhere he could reach on Eddie’s shoulders and neck. Not even kissing, just a frantic wet mouth meeting his skin over and over. “Please.”

Richie pulled out slowly and snapped his hips back in hard. The walls broke down then as Richie fucked into Eddie hard and fast. Eddie threw his head back, Richie immediately latching onto his neck with lips and teeth. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, letting the feeling of Richie become his everything.

“Yes…” Eddie moaned out as Richie’s cock jabbed against his spot. Eddie rolled his hips up, letting his cock rub against Richie’s stomach. “Yes… yess… yes.”

Richie spewed words into his ears but Eddie couldn’t make sense of them, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of Richie fucking against his prostate. “Oh, shit!” Eddie cried as his whole body tensed then relief waved over him. He shook as he came between them, all over his and Richie’s chests.

“Oh my God, Eddie.” Richie moaned, completely lost in the feeling of how Eddie clenched around him and shook underneath him. In only took a few more quick thrusts before Richie was tossed over the edge and collapsing against Eddie’s sticky chest.

Richie pushed Eddie’s sweaty bangs from his face as they lay together on the bed to catch their breath. Eddie blinked up at Richie and gave him a slow smile.

“Thanks. That was decent.”

Richie coughed, then burst out into laughter. “You’re a little fucking spit fire, aren’t you, Eds?”

Eddie leaned forward and nipped at Richie’s bottom lip. He tugged on it until it ripped from his teeth and slapped back against Richie’s mouth. Richie laughed and gave Eddie’s thigh as squeeze.

Eddie hummed happily. “I should probably get going.” He said. He sat up and winced at the sticky, disgusting feeling of his own body.

Richie pouted as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulled him back to the bed, on top of him this time. “Don’t go. Stay. We can order room service… watch bad hotel television…” Richie pressed his lips against Eddie’s ear to send a shiver down his spine. “Take a shower.”

“Do you normally keep your one night stands in your room overnight?” Eddie challenged with a raise of his brow.

Richie’s face dropped slightly. “No but I…” He cleared his throat, and loosened his grip on Eddie’s hips. “Sorry. Forget it. You can go, I’ll call you a cab if you..”

Eddie’s heart clenched and hugged Richie to him. “Shut up, of course I’ll stay. But I’m showering alone. I want to actually get clean.”

Richie beamed at him. “That’s fine. We’ll just shower together in the morning then.”

“In your fucking dreams, Tozier.”

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ytowtmd #ashley????? notsfw???????????/ whos that?????????/#it spoilers #not really #but potentially #memories

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hopeworldfan · 5 years

Text

good things come in threes (2)

summary: you had a unique relationship with hyuna and hyojong, one that gets even more complicated when min yoongi gets involved.

pairing: yoongi/reader, hyuna/reader/hyojong

word count: 2k

rating: 18+

genre: fluff, smut, angst, idolverse, idol!reader

warning: sexting, yoongi pops a boner, implied masturbation

Beads of sweat were cascading down the side of your face and your muscles were screaming in protest with every move you made. You didn’t stop though, you couldn’t stop. The choreography had to be second nature to you, to come as easy as breathing when you were on stage. No matter what happened, what distraction there might be, what complication might occur, your performance couldn’t falter for a single second. You always had to give your fans your absolute best, no exceptions.

“We can take a break (y/n).” Your choreographer, Taewon, offered with a knowing smile.

He already knew what your answer would be, what it always was. “Nonsense. Let’s run it again.”

Your heart was pounding as the music started again. Sparing a glance at the mirror in front of you, you noted how much of a mess you looked. It had been three hours since you stepped foot in the dance studio and your messy appearance attested to that.

Despite your somewhat laidback, uncaring persona in the public eye, you cared a lot. The persona was a carefully crafted one that worked wonders for you. The controversial queen, multiple tattoos, sultry outfits, lyrics littered with profanity, and a very empowered attitude in general. You were the ‘darker’ version of Hyuna in a sense, and that came into play in your collaborations. She was the light to your dark, the sun to your moon, and people ate it up.

Your legs were shaking by the time you finished the song and it took all of your willpower not to collapse on the ground. Just in time, Minsun strolled in. “Good news (y/n)!”

“I love good news.” You sighed, plopping down on the floor and gratefully taking the water bottle Taewon handed you.

“You’re collaborating with Suga, just one song, for now, BigHit wants to test the waters before committing to more.”

You froze, the bottle of water just touching your lips. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am.” Your manager sniffed. “You can thank me at any time.”

In the next beat, you were on your feet, your arms wrapped around the taller woman.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you.” You chanted, a wide smile on your face.

“Oh gross! You’re getting sweat all over my suit!” She protested, trying to shove your sweaty form off.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” You teased and she just huffed in annoyance, but you released her, finally chugging the bottle of water. “So, what are the details.”

“The two of you have free reign on the song. We want it released before the start of your tour, something to kick it off with a bang. Since your first performance is right here in Seoul and it’s being filmed, you’re going to bring Suga out for the song. It’s a secret though, very under wraps.”

You nodded thoughtfully. Your tour kicked off in three months, you’d written songs within a much shorter time span. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Minsun’s face morphed into something more serious and your stomach dropped. Uh oh, that expression never meant anything good. “Listen (y/n), the Bangtan boys have a much cleaner image to uphold than yourself. The BigHit executives have voiced…concerns about your relationship with Hyuna and E’Dawn. If it were to be revealed while you were working with Suga, it could have a backlash on them, and they don’t want that. If there is any whiff of the three of you, they’ll pull out of the collaboration without a second thought.”

Annoyance coursed through you. Everything always came down to your relationship –not relationship- with Hyuna and Hyojong. It’s not like the three of you were doing anything wrong. You were all adults, it was completely consensual, why did it have to be some big thing? Why did society have to consider it taboo? Why did it have to affect your career?

“I get it Minsun.” You breathed and she sighed.

“Look, you know I don’t understand what you have with them, but maybe some time away would do you good.” She was only trying to help, you knew that, so you ignored the flare of irritation at her suggestion.

“I’ll be careful.” You promised before turning and getting back into position. “I need to get back to practice.”

A week later and you were finally meeting with Suga. The two of you had agreed to just meet in his studio since that was the most logical place for what the two of you were doing. You were so excited, you’d been a fan of his work for so long, really connecting to the emotion he injected into his lyrics. This was your dream collaboration.

“Wah! (Y/N)?! What is (Y/N) doing at our dorm?!” A panicked voice exclaimed when you strolled into the dorms, security having let you in.

“What are you talking about-oh my god!”

“What’s the commotion?”

You just giggled at the scene playing out in front of you. It was Jungkook who screamed first, and he was still staring at you like you had sprouted an extra head. V was next, having looked up from his position on the couch to also gawk at you. Namjoon was the last one, walking into the room at the boy’s exclamations. The three of them were just staring at you so you hesitantly raised a hand in greeting. “Uhh, hi? I’m here to see Suga.”

“Oh!” Namjoon exclaimed with wide eyes. “Yes! We knew that! We totally knew that. I’ll go get him!”

He was gone before you could reply, and you were left awkwardly standing there. Jungkook and V looked to be arguing about something before the younger of the two finally approached you. “Hi, um, I know we’ve technically met before, but, uh, I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan.”

“Thank you! I’m a huge fan of you too!” You smiled and his eyes shot up to meet yours.

“Really?”

“Of course! Euphoria is a gorgeous song, I listen to it a lot.” A blush crept up to your cheeks at your confession and you noticed a similar thing happening to the boy in front of you.

“I! Uh, I’m a huge fan too (y/n)!” V shouted, scrambling to stand next to Jungkook.

“Your solo track is also amazing V; your voice is so comforting I adore it.” His cheeks flushed a light pink at the compliment. They were both so adorable. You loved seeing the contrast from the sensual guys you had watched on stage to the shy guys standing in front of you.

“If the two of you are done harassing (y/n), we have work to do.” A different voice commented and the two boys in front of you paled.

“We’re not harassing her, Hyung!” Jungkook protested.

“We were just talking!” V defended and you couldn’t help but giggle at the display. The dynamic was hilarious, both boys were larger than Suga, but it was obvious they deferred to him.

“It’s true, we were just chatting.” You chimed in with a kind smile and his eyes flitted to you. Your gaze only met for a moment before he looked away, his expression unreadable. Panic shot through. What he saw at MAMA had been on your mind since that night. Sure, he didn’t have any concrete proof about what happened, but you knew that he knew and if he let anything slip, the paparazzi would run with it. However, there hadn’t been a single whiff of it.

“You can follow me to my studio.” He said and you obliged immediately, waving goodbye to V and Jungkook.

What if he asked you about it? You had to lie, there was no way you could just tell the truth, that was too dangerous. Not that you thought Suga was a shady person, but you only knew him from what he showed the world, that wasn’t always the real deal.

“I’m really excited to work with you Suga, I’ve admired you for a while now.” You said honestly as the two of you walked into the studio.

“Ahh, thank you,” He said somewhat shyly, and you noticed the slight reddening of his cheeks. “And you can call me Yoongi.”

Cute.

“Alright, Yoongi.” You grinned, setting your backpack down and taking a seat on the couch. Maybe his personality was just more reserved, and he wasn’t treating you differently because of what he saw. “So, do you have any ideas for the song, I have a few WIP’s that we could pull from, but I haven’t been able to come up with a fitting theme.”

Yoongi took a seat in front of his keyboard, facing you and putting a hand up to his face. He looked more confident than he had ten seconds ago, and you had to will yourself to keep your mind from wandering. He was an extremely attractive male, but you’re constantly surrounded by attractive males that didn’t make you feel the way you were feeling.

It had been so long since you’d felt real desire for anyone but Hyuna and Hyojong. Even with Hui, he was attractive, and you had a lot of fun, but the thought of him didn’t particularly excite you though. Yoongi though, he excited you, and you’d only been in the same room for five minutes.

“I think the most logical thing would be a darker themed song, it would fit both of our images. I uhh, I started working on something when I was told about the collaboration.”

Time flew by while the two of you worked. Yoongi was a genius, there wasn’t a single doubt left in your mind. The two of you would be done the song in no time at the pace you were getting things out. You worked so well together, any time one of you got stuck the other jumped in immediately with a solution. In all your years as an idol, you had never felt such a creative connection with someone.

“I’ll be right back.” You smiled, jumping up to take a bathroom break.

Yoongi watched you go with a look that could only be described as in awe. He’d wanted to collaborate with you for so long, ever since the first time he heard your voice. There was just something so poignant about it, something that drew him in. He told himself how breathtakingly beautiful you were had nothing to do with it. Even today, you were dressed so simply, sweatpants and a t-shirt, hair in a messy bun, a black face mask and not a trace of makeup, and he thought you looked gorgeous.

The only problem he was having was that he couldn’t look at you without picturing how you looked that night at MAMA. You had obviously just been having sex, there was no doubt in his mind. Everything about you was screaming it, the hickeys on your neck, your still blown pupils, your swollen lips, your inside out shirt. You had still looked so fucked out and holy fuck Yoongi couldn’t help but wish that it was because of him.

A buzzing noise drew his attention to the couch, and he noticed you had left your phone when you want to the bathroom. Curiosity got the better of him and he leaned forward, seeing that not only did you leave your phone unlocked, but open to a message thread.

His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he saw the picture, and the message attached to it. Your face wasn’t in the picture, and neither was the girl’s whose pussy you were eating, or the guy’s who was fucking you from behind, the one holding the camera. So, he couldn’t be positive it was you, but he was pretty positive it was you. The girl had the same shoulder tattoo and that was your current hair color.

It was the attached message that really solidified it.

we didn’t get enough of you noona, come play

Yoongi wasn’t oblivious to the rumors surrounding you, the whispers about your relationship with Hyuna and E’Dawn. He knew that’s whose dressing room you were rushing out of when you ran into him, but seeing the picture, seeing the proof, Yoongi felt his pants tightening. Fuck.

He whirled around when you strolled back into the studio. “Sorry I took so long, I may have gotten a tad bit lost.”

“It’s cool.” He replied nervously and you tilted your head in confusion before plopping back down on the couch and grabbing your phone. He watched you out of the corner of his eyes as you scanned the message, he noticed the way your lips parted slightly and your tongue shot out to wet your bottom lips, he noticed the way you squeezed your thighs together.

“Do you mind if we put a pause on things for the night? We’ve made a lot of progress.” You asked and Yoongi kept his back towards you, unable to kill his growing erection. Holy shit. You were going to go, that’s where you’d be headed when you left.

“Yeah that’s cool, I’ll stay here and just add a few tweaks.”

“Alright! I really enjoyed working with you today, I’ll be in contact!” You grinned, grabbing your stuff and bouncing out. His eyes followed your form, getting up and locking the door the minute you were out of sight.

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alltheangstmygifttoyou · 4 years

Text

First Vacation

A/N: This is the fifth part to Learn To Be’s prequel and one of the more graphic and upsetting parts so please pay attention to the trigger warnings, and please let me know if I need to add more. It is back in Jester’s perspective. Out of the early parts this one is one of my favorites, I like the way it’s formatted and with the help of my teacher I liked the little descriptions and details added. I hope ya’ll like it too.

Summery: Jester sits alone in the dorm room at night and remembers what her first vacation home was like.

Word Count: 2188

TW: Graphic violence, graphic child abuse, disassociation, carving, victim blaming

Jester sat back in the broken dorm chair in the dead of night. The only light in the large open room came from the glow of the electronic clock above the exit. It was just enough illumination to not reveal the location of anything but not let Jester’s eyes adjust to the darkness either. Everyone else was in their rooms, most likely asleep. Jester’s roommate hadn’t bothered to scold her about not going to bed, but no one else had either. Most students were tired after the excitement of the day, a new national holiday to celebrate the bond between family. Students had been given three days off school.

* * *

Jester should have expected a new holiday really, Father was a major part of the council, and they made all the rules for the country. She knew she’d be punished for rebelling by not taking the placement test but that would have come during Christmas, months away, allowing her plenty of time to come up with a plausible reason on why she needed to stay at her school Learn To Be. But instead after less than a month of freedom she’d only been given a days notice that that freedom was about to be taken away. Her mind had been blank that entire day, she felt as if she was watching herself move around. No one asked about it though. No one wanted to be friends with a kid from section fifteen. No one in section fifteen seemed to want to be. They all drifted through the halls like fallen leaves on a windy afternoon. Even June seemed to be barely there.

Jester wished she could have stayed in that half there state the entire holiday. Instead she snapped back into herself when her Father’s dark green eyes locked with hers and his smile grew. She sat on the right side of the car like she always had in Father’s car while Jesse sat on the far left. The air felt solid as if every breath was swallowing the tension made physical. Jesse kept looking at Jester and then looking away quickly despite Jester not moving. She kept her eyes forward on the black soft seat in front of her that her Mother currently occupied.

They began the ride home in silence, a bad sign seeing as Mother would no doubt be gushing out question after question for Jesse if their Father wasn’t angry. The silence was broken by their Father as they exited the large parking lot. The rear-view mirror was kept at an angle that made their Father’s eyes visible. It made it so the children were always aware that he was watching them. Since he was driving Jester couldn’t see much of his front but she could tell by the side of his face he was still smiling while he spoke.

“So how are you liking school so far kids?” He began with a simple question. It should have made her feel better to be included in the question, yet it just made all the moisture in her mouth evaporate. Jesse didn’t seem to get the same sense of danger though and began to ramble on about how great school was. How everyone had been really nice, and how his room was only a little smaller than the one at home. What the name of his new friends were and what their powers were. He hadn’t told half of this to Jester at their breakfast meetups. Although to be fair, they had talked less and less. Jesse constantly would just look at the table where his new friends were sitting at whenever Jester spoke. Jester didn’t have much she was willing to talk about in the first place, but if he wasn’t even listening then there was no point in saying anything at all. They mostly just gave good mornings to each other and then goodbyes.

“And what about you Jester, are you enjoying section fifteen?” His voice didn’t change with the question, it was still soft and hinted with curiosity. His eyes stared at her through the mirror. Jesse watched her as well. Whenever Jesse asked about section fifteen she avoided the topic, she’d brush it off and turn it around on him asking about section one. She could tell it frustrated him but she desperately didn’t want to lie outright to him anymore, but the truth hurt too much to say. Father knew she was miserable though, and he was taunting her.

“I am, the others are very nice and we work together to stay in control,” Jester hated how heavy the lie made her feel. It felt like her lungs were being squeezed by her rib cage. Her Mother’s had tightened into a fist on the top of the closed storage container between the front seats.

“Have you made any new friends like your brother?” Father pressed on and it took extreme focus to exhale steadily without tensing the rest of her body. She never made friends, people tended to avoid her ever since she started basics school. When she was little it was because she was too morbid, she would explain what could happen if the other kids ate random things off the ground and got poisoned, she would talk about how the body would sometimes just give up, or just asked the teacher surrounding topics most parents would shelter their kids from, like assault or overdose. Father made cruel real world realities apparent to her from a very young age. She talked about what five year olds shouldn’t know, and she ruined games of pretend with logic. There was once when she was little when another kid claimed that he had the power to fly in the game they were playing, and that he landed on a cloud. She explained that clouds were just water, and that he would just get wet. The other children did not appreciate this type of input. Jesse was her only friend, and that meant she would do anything to protect him. As such, kids began to dislike her even more because she was a liar, a liar that always won anyways. Teachers always believed her, after all, her lies had evidence to back them up. A hint of truth. What kind of child knew to do that? Father’s question was another jab at her.

“Yeah, my roommate June has been really nice to me,” Jester answered, ignoring the fact that June barely spoke to her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jesse watching her, head tilted to the side. Before Father could question her more about June she elaborated. “She’s fourteen, has short red hair, and likes to exercise. Every morning she wakes up and stretches, it's impressive how well she stays on routine.” Honestly Jester didn’t know anything else about June.

“It’s nice to see you making connections dear,” he answered. His calm, normal attitude was setting Jester on edge further. She knew he was angry, he had to be, Mother was silent. Soft classical music filled the car and no one dared to speak for the rest of the ride. Jester could hear father humming along to the songs. Mother never turned away from the windshield. Jesse, the least aware, was relaxed enough to fall asleep. His head rested on the side of the car door and there was a slight smile on his face. Jester wished that she could feel that way, yet a selfish part of her wanted him to be awake, as scared as she was. She wanted him to hold her hand and whisper to her that it would be okay. But she’d never take away Jesse's ignorance, not just because Mother and Father told her not to, but because he deserved to be happy. If Jesse knew he’d be like Jester, and the world already had too many jesters.

Once they were parked in the driveway Jester managed to move her stiff limbs and get out of the car. Father got out of the driver's seat but left the door open. Mother came around the front of the car and looked at Jester for a moment. Jester looked into her Mother’s pretty blue eyes, far different from Jester’s dark green, and pleaded silently for Mother to stay. Mother didn't react however, she stared a moment longer before giving Father a peck on the cheek and getting into the car. Jester was forced to watch her last hope run away from her until it became a mere dot in the distance. The thought that that was the last time she’d ever see Jesse occurred to her, but she had to brush it aside when a hand landed on her shoulder.

“Let’s go inside dear, we have so much to talk about,” Father’s voice was even more overly cheery than it had been in the car. His grip on her shoulder tightened with each step towards the horse to the point where Jester was sure there would be a bruise in the morning. Once the door was closed behind them he shoved her to the floor. She only managed to get to her knees before he kicked her in the ribs lifting her off the ground and twirling through the air twice before hitting the carpet elbow first. Every breath was like slamming a hammer on your finger every time the hammer went down. Despite the pain her body still made her sob. “Shut up, we both knew this was coming.” All traces of happiness was gone from his voice, replacing it was a tone one would use on an escaped pet rat that pooped on the floor. It was a tone Jester heard many times before.

“I know you thought that you’d have more time before this happened, but that’s your problem. You underestimated how much I care about you, or how much power I have. I doubt that you’re that stupid though, to think the latter,” Father went on pacing around her prone body. Jester stayed on the ground, trying to silence her wet breaths. His eyes made the back of her head burn but she didn’t dare look up. He preferred her face in the carpet she was sure.

‘You’re about the age when kids begin rebelling against their parents, so I understand why you purposely failed. It’s my job as your parent to let you know that this behavior is unacceptable though, and will not be tolerated. I’ve already proven by creating this holiday that I can bring you home whenever I want, as long as I want. Nothing has changed from when you went to Basics. You do as I say, or you’ll be punished. I’ll make this lesson memorable so you’ll never forget it,” and with that final word he kicked her in the ribs again, and again, stepping forward whenever he made her body roll away from him. When he tired of that he pulled her to her feet by her hair and dragged her to the kitchen and slammed her head on the table. When he finally let her hair go she collapsed to the floor seeing double. She could hear him walking away and grabbing something off the counter before his four feet came into her confused vision. He lifted up the bottom of her shirt exposing her stomach.

“A reminder to help you remember this lesson,” he whispered to her gently before carving into her skin with a knife. When she tried to scream he covered her mouth with his right hand and leaned his weight on it to keep him steady. It had all been too much, the pain, fear, and Jester blacked out.

The rest of the holiday she spent confined to her room. A family doctor with a strong healing power came and mended her broken ribs but left the bruises and sliced skin. Her stomach was wrapped in bandages so she couldn’t see what Father had done to her. Father came in her room and made sure that she understood that all these injuries she had came from falling down the stairs, and that no one would see them when she went back to school. Jesse fretted over her at first but Mother was taking advantage of every second she could, to be with him, leaving Jester alone. Father bought her one meal a day with a smile and a comment about how he was glad that he got this out of the way before Jester had done any real damage. How her little act of rebellion could actually make his plans easier in the end.

* * *

The ride to school Jester had been silent. She didn’t speak the entire day. Now, in the dark dorm room she sat alone. Her stomach throbbed. She lifted up her top and traced her finger along the places where it hurt the worse. The lines of pain came together in her mind and she realized that he had etched the number fifteen, her section, into her. Fifteen would be with her forever. This dark broken place was hers now, and she could never be rid of it.

#learn to be #TW child abuse #tw violence #tw dissociation #tw carving #tw victim blaming #writeblr

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darkmindsotome · 5 years

Text

His Secret

MLQC Victor short for the festive period because it was in my head. I hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings: A little dash of pumpkin spice to this one.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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His Secret

He had control over a lot of things. His life was a systematic methodical regime of everything neatly ordered and in moderation. His schedule was planned to the millisecond and he knew almost exactly what others were going to say or do around him based on his own actions. It was logical, it was familiar… it was boring.

That was where fate provided a small twist in his long life. A scatter-brained, slightly ditzy female that exceeded his expectations, although not always in the best fashion. Comments had been tossed around the rumour mill about the type of woman he would be interested in. Models, actresses, daughters of highly successful businessmen and politicians. They couldn’t be further from the truth. He found himself unable to look the other way when this one was involved. No matter the situation he observed them from a distance and stepped in only when he was asked too. The last part was harder than it seemed as the curiously fascinating female was stubborn enough to struggle for what felt like eternity without asking for assistance.

What started with curiosity had developed over time into genuine affection, although it appeared that everyone else around them had noticed this except for her. He felt irritation rise inside him knowing that she was oblivious to his feelings but he couldn’t hold it against her as he never spelt it out for her in a way she couldn’t possibly misinterpret. Still, it was becoming increasingly hard to keep a grip on something else he usually dealt with without issue.

He held a secret. It was not something he was proud of and he knew better than to openly display such a thing to the public as it would generate fear and panic. But this time of year was always the worst. When the moon was at its most powerful and the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. Halloween was fast approaching and with it was the one night of the year he usually made every effort to spend alone and locked away from other people. That was his plan this year as well except…

“So, Anna said we should have a company party and invite some of the collaborators, partners and guests that have helped us so far. I could see her point it would help with future negotiations and networking if we could keep everyone on side and then Leo said…” She rambled on with an idiotically cheerful smile on her face. He had been lost in that smile until her lips uttered another man’s name and it felt like he had been plunged into ice water like a freshly cooked egg.

“Leo? You are still talking to him?” He kept his voice low and even willing it to sound calm even as he felt his blood boil.

“Of course I am. He’s a friend as I have already told you AND he is the head of the tv station. We work together on things. It only makes sense to maintain a business connect like that by inviting him to the party and talking to him.” She gave a little huff as she rattled off a naively simple point of view on the topic. He suppressed a sigh as he thought about how she wouldn’t really be her if she knew how dark the world could be. The childlike innocence of her was one of the qualities he found so endearing in her.

“What time and where?” The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

“What?” Her expression mirrored the same shock that he felt without letting it show on his own face. It was his night alone. The one night he always kept free from social obligations and work so as to maintain his own life balance. He should be thinking about that right now but all his mind was filled with was the notion of her drinking wine surrounded by people and that Leo character moving in closer circles around her like a shark.

“This childish gathering of yours. I will need details so I can get Goldman to add it to the schedule and attend. Or is there some reason you don’t want me there?” The ball was in her court. If she said she didn’t want him there clearly and that she would choose someone else he would let her go.

“N-no. I just didn’t think you would want to attend a Halloween party. I thought you’d dub it as beneath you and totally stupid and say it was a waste of time and not come to it so I thought…” Her cheeks were flushed pink. Yet another expression she had in her arsenal that targeted him but was oblivious as to how to use it to her advantage.

“And there is your problem. Working without proper tools can only ever result in failure.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he leant back in his chair behind his desk and looked at the small female fidgeting. Her innocence really brought out his desire to tease her at times.

“Hey! You know I could tell security to not let you in even if you did show up?” She gave a defiant if rather not completely well thought out rebuttal to his comment.

“And that would be a wise move to pull against your sole investor and financial support to your company because?”

“Well, I…” She stammered and avoided his gaze.

“As I said working without tools can only ever result in failure. So, time and place.”

And that was how he ended up silently cursing his own luck under his breath as he arrived at the hotel her company had selected for the night’s festivities. Everywhere he looked grown men and women were dressed up in costumes using the night as a kind of excuse to cut loose and drink far more than sensible. He could feel their heartbeats vibrating inside him even without touching any of them.

She was running around in a witch costume. The black dress clung to her body in all the right places giving her a more mature silhouette than he was used to seeing. He began to get annoyed. She looked impossibly cute, so cute he wished to remove her from all the people ogling her. She was also drinking much more than she knew she could.

he watched as she staggered a few times before she left the room. She was waving off the hands offering assistance as she ventured into gardens to get some fresh air and cool off. He downed his glass of brandy, almost slamming the empty tumbler on the bar counter and followed her.

“What do you think you are doing?” He called out harshly to her when he found her propped up against the trunk of a tree sitting on a bench.

“Victor?” Her voice was full of surprise as she looked up at him with those big eyes.

“Yes, Victor who else did you think it was? Or maybe you were hoping for one of those guys in there instead of me.” He motioned behind him back in the direction of the party. As if on cue a sudden burst of laughter rang out from the gathering filling the night air.

“No. I just didn’t think you’d follow me.” She sighed and allowed herself to sink further back against the tree. The small hat on her head that was attached to a band slipped a little more to the side of her head.

“Well someone is clearly incapable of hosting a small gathering without making a spectacle of themselves. Idiot.” He muttered that last part softer than the first before taking a seat next to her.

“Ugh…” As she groaned, he just knew it was because he had hit a nerve. She was so easy to read and predict.

“I don’t know why you do it. I can’t tell if you are seriously this naive or if you are just that dense.” His continued criticism of the night was certainly something he was thinking but even he knew he should be drawing the line somewhere. The trouble was with her he couldn’t hold back. No that wasn’t exactly true. He didn’t want to hold back. They were close in age sure but it was more than that. From the moment they met, she had spoken her mind and been frank with him. She was not another Yes man paying lip service to him in the hope of continued funding. He liked that. He loved that.

“Have we already hit the lecture portion of this evening I wasn’t aware it was that time already.”

“What?” He turned to look at her with unhidden wonder. He was used to seeing her stumbling about semi docile and in need of guidance. He was used to hearing small bursts of escaped thoughts during phone conversations but he had never really seen much of this side of her. Humans really were fascinating creatures.

“No. No, what? Listen, Victor, I’ve reached my limit on this. I’m completely capable of doing things without your personal brand of “assisting” which just involves insulting me constantly. I’m not a little girl I’m a grown woman.”

He hadn’t seen her this full of fight in a while. Her pulse was racing and it probably had something to do with the sudden realisation that she had just said what she had to him rather than the alcohol in her system. She looked like someone had tossed ice water on her. Her eyes wide with shocking clarity as she stared at him her hand clamped over her mouth. He would have laughed had this been any other time. But his mind was drifting in time with the beat of her heart.

“I’m going back inside. Be sure to make yourself presentable before returning also.” He went to stand up only to stop when he felt the weight of something on his jacket. Her small hand was gripping him as her face continued to flicker between confusion and anger.

“Wait.”

“Let go of me.” He moved his hand to hers and teased it from him. His fingers grazing over her wrist reminded him of how quickly her heart was pounding.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said what I did like that.” The fire she showed before seemed to be gone and she was back to being meek. It was a look that hurt him more tonight than at any other time. If she wanted to stand strong in business and continue her dream, she had to have fire.

“Why are you apologising?” He sighed and frowned as he looked at her bowing her head to him.

“What?” She looked up probably a little shocked that he wasn’t agreeing that she had been very rude to him. She still didn’t understand that things like this didn’t affect him.

“Why apologise for saying something that you have clearly been thinking about for a long time? It’s pointless. It wastes energy and time. Now let go before you make any more of a fool out of yourself.” He said his piece aware of how his mouth was watering. He had to get away.

“No. Not until you tell me why you are running away.” She stubbornly refused to let him go almost jumping in front of him to block his retreat.

“I am not running I am returning to the bar some of us are capable of enjoying a drink without it resulting in a public spectacle.”

“Well it looks like you are avoiding me and it hurts.” Her eyes looked glassy as if she was about to cry.

“What?” He stood there in stunned observation. She couldn’t possibly know the danger she was in. How when the scent of her shampoo in the air blended with her own sweet aroma had his restraint faltering. The faster her heart raced the sweeter it became and he was intoxicated. He knew it wouldn’t take much to break it. All she had to do was show him one little gap in her armour and let him in. “You…”

“It’s fine sorry you’re right I’ve had too much to drink I really don’t know what I’m saying just go back inside and have fun. It’s why you came here after all.” She sounded defeated and stepped aside. He was all too aware of the loss of warmth from her near him and found himself chasing it. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. She wasn’t here because of the drink or the amusement. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything that she loved to hear in those old movies she liked too much.

Instead what happened was a rather passionate sudden kiss. One hand wrapped around her hip as the other naturally found its home at the back of her head cradling it as he dragged her closer to him. She was wide-eyed in shock staring at him as he continued to deepen the kiss pushing his tongue past her lips and teeth to mingle with hers. swallowing her surprised noises along with her pleasurable moans. Her eyelids fluttered shut and his hand on her him snaked around to her back and sides enjoying that mature outline of her body he had seen on display earlier.

Her small hands came up to pat his chest and he released her allowing her to catch her breath. She was glowing in the moonlight. A totally new look present on her face that had his heart skipping as he realised it was a look of lust directed only at him. Her gasp of shock was what snapped him out of his fantasy.

He was suddenly aware of the ivory showing in his mouth. He knew they were there it was as he had feared. He spent so many years hiding his secret from the world only to have it fail him when faced with desire for another. He still had time. He could retreat and leave without saying a thing and if she asked or said anything he could say she was drunk or he was in costume or something. He could do that. But his body was not obeying him and instead remained still as she edged closure to him a single finger reaching out to his lips and touching a fang.

“It’s real…” She whispered her voice holding none of the fear he was expecting.

“Yes.” He looked at her the look in her eyes had changed and he felt his heart sink. There was no going back now it seemed. “I’m sorry I…”

“Does it hurt when they come out like that?” The childlike question caught him off guard. His words stolen from him and all he found he could do was shake his head in reply. “Good. I was worried you were in pain.”

“What?”

“For a moment there you looked like you were really hurting. But if you aren’t then it’s fine.” She smiled the same soft smile he fell for months ago and stayed by his side without fleeing.

“You know what I am. You know what I could do to you and still, you stay?”

“Yes. Because I also know that you won’t hurt me. Regardless of what you are Victor you have never once been cruel.” Her words were resplendent in their conviction as she looked up at him. There were no more secrets here. A weight he never really fully understood had been removed from his chest and he felt light enough to fly.

“You really are an idiot.” He chuckled as he drew her to him and kissed her again softer than before. “I’m not letting you go. Not now you know my secret.”

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