Tumgik
#then he can accept what jeremy tells him
lc-holy · 2 months
Text
Conférence Masterclass 808 (Translation)
I've taken the liberty of translating the conference that took place last year with the writing director of Miraculous (Sébastien Thibaudeau). It was only made public when someone posted a video of the conference a short while ago.
In this conference, Sébastien Thibaudeau will talk about the creation of Miraculous and his work on the series. He is joined by Chloé Paye, a new scriptwriter working on Miraculous season 6.
Sébastien talks a lot and repeats himself a bit, so the summary can be a bit confusing.
I strongly advise you to go and listen to the video if you understand French. There are a lot of details I'm going to leave out, and Sébastien is very funny.
Tumblr media
Photo belongs to mlbfanfr on twitter.
Please be respectful in comments or tags. If you want to debate on things related to this conference, please make your own post. I apologize if there are any mistakes, I'm French and I'm not fluent in English.
-12 years ago, Sébastien arrived at Zagtoon, a studio that was just starting out and had yet to produce and broadcast any series. The producer (Jérémy Zag) and Sébastien hit it off and decided to start working together. Zag decides to give Sébastien total freedom over his projects. Sébastien then decides to put the spotlight on scriptwriters, because in this profession they are unfortunately poorly paid and never stay on the same projects.
So they produced a cartoon called Kobushi. A little-known series that did rather well, even if it didn't stay on the "Gulli" channel for long. The scriptwriters and producer were happy with the end result, as it was produced in a very short time.
Jeremy Zag then proposed another project, which he thought was quite good, but which he was unable to sell to broadcasters. At the time, the project was called "Ladybug". No one was interested, as the project was aimed more at an adult audience than a children's audience. Sébastien had to make sure that the project could be broadcast on Disney and TF1.
There was only a "trailer" also called "Ladybug" (but you'll find the video under the title Ladybug PV) animated by Toei animation. At the time, Sébastien had not yet been hired by Zagtoon. It was Jérémy Zag who convinced Toei animation to work with them (no mean feat, since Toei animation doesn't work with anyone).
So Sébastien started working with Thomas Astruc (the man who wrote and created the "Ladybug" project). At first, he didn't want to work on this project because he found it complicated. Thomas wanted to make a series for adults, but at the time, it was very complicated to make a cartoon for adults. What's more, they didn't have enough money to take on such a project. Sébastien finally agreed, but there were some changes to be made, which Thomas accepted.
-What Sébastien appreciated most in this project was the romantic comedy, the love square between the two main characters.
To meet the requirements of the cartoon industry, "Ladybug" had to be set in a neutral universe, in other words, in an imaginary country or the USA, but Zag, who loves Paris, declared that the cartoon had to be set in Paris.
In the end, Thomas Astruc's entire project was discarded, leaving only the love story between the two heroes and the city of Paris, where the story was to take place.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Sébastien explains how he writes Marinette's first dialogues: He says he talks a lot in real life, so he writes Marinette like him. She says out loud whatever she's thinking.
For Chat noir, he makes him tell his father's jokes. Something TF1 doesn't accept. The TV channel went so far as to refuse to validate the Bible (a collection of information on the series and episodes) until it had removed the sentence: “Chat noir makes jokes”. Sebastien has therefore removed the sentence, but will continue to make Chat noir tell jokes.
-The writing director's job is to get the producer, creator and broadcaster to agree. The series broadcast on TF1 and Disney are very different. TF1 wants series whose story can be told in a single episode, unlike Disney, which wants series whose story spans several episodes.
Sébastien and TF1 agree that Miraculous will be a series with one story per episode, a "Formula Show".
He cites the example of Dora the Explorer episodes, where every episode is the same: Dora goes on an adventure from point A to point B, she has to find 3 clues, then she meets Swiper, she sings a song to make Swiper go away, she uses the talking map to get from one place to another, then Dora manages to get to point B and the episode ends.
This episode format is used for children, to give them a reassuring framework, as they build themselves up through repetition. That's why series like Dora work so well with young children.
So Sebastien sold the Miraculous series to broadcasters as a formula show. A person gets angry, is akumatized, then marinette transforms into Ladybug then frees the person from the akumatization and… The End.
It's also for this reason that Marinette tries to confess her love for Adrien in every episode, but is unable to do so.
But he tried to go against what he had planned with TF1, by slipping little extra stories into certain episodes. Audiences were receptive to these slightly hidden stories. The TV channel even asked Sébastien if there really were hidden things in the series, but he denied everything. Thanks to the positive reception from the public, TF1 agreed to develop the characters of Marinette and Adrien and flesh out the universe a little more.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Once the bible is written, they have to write a script. But first Sébastien, as writing director, needs to know the mood of the series, and to do this he calls on Thomas Astruc, the series creator. Thomas is a great fan of classical painting. A single painting can tell a complex scene with lots of detail. He wants the episodes of miraculous to be like these paintings, there will be very few shots, but in a single shot a lot will happen.
-Sébastien explains that one of the things Thomas wanted to convey in the series was emotion. They didn't want to do what a lot of children's cartoons do, which is to beat the bad guys and win at the end of the episode. They wanted to tell kids that it's normal to have negative emotions. We can also become better people, learn from our mistakes and so on. It also reassures TV channels by setting up scenes that are repeated in every episode: people get angry, people akumatize then people deakumatize, end of episode...
Once the TV channels had been reassured, they set about writing a script.
-Sébastien asks Thomas to write the ending, as they're not sure the series will work. They also wondered what the aim of the series was, and what they wanted to say to the children. The two of them sat down in an office and wrote the ending, which turned out to be just the end of an arc. He even adds that now that they've written a lot more, it's important for them to write in advance so that everything is clear to them.
-The first season was written by 19 authors, from home. He found it interesting that the series was written by several different authors, even if some of them didn't quite understand the premise of the series. One episode that Sébastien particularly appreciated was written by two “autrices” (I think it's weird to say “two female authors”, so I'll use the French word): the refletkta episode, with the story of Juleka who couldn't get into the photos. (Note that all the episodes were proofread by Sébastien and Thomas).
After that, they kept a few people on to work together on the scripts for subsequent seasons.
Sébastien explains that he keeps a close eye on the production of the episodes, to make sure that everything that goes into the picture is as faithful as possible to what they've written in the script.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-The kwamis exist thanks to Toei, who wanted funny little animals to sell plush toys. So the scriptwriters had to find a way to integrate kwamis into the story.
-(Again, Sébastien advises people to check out the Kobushi series if they can still watch it somewhere, or ask the leaker who leaked the whole of season 5 to give them the episodes (that's a joke, of course)).
-Sébastien talks about the Ikari gozen episode, which could have been a total failure because the storyboarder didn't fully understand the scenario. Sébastien asks Zag to redo the storyboard, which will add 10 weeks to the episode's deadline. The storyboarder admits that he's always done storyboards mechanically, without worrying whether the episode is good or not, whether the jokes are funny or not. Eventually, the episode was redone by the same storyboarder, resulting in the episode we all know today.
- They still have a lot to tell with Miraculous, to the point where they're wondering if they'll have enough seasons to tell everything they want to tell. Sebastien says there will be a season 6 and 7, and probably a season 8 and 9.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- Chloé Paye met Sébastien when she was looking for an internship. She had never worked in animation, and knew nothing about Miraculous. She tells us how the scriptwriting team works. Each time, all the scriptwriters in the room have to be convinced of the script. They can sometimes spend hours on details to get everyone to agree.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- The driving force behind the series is that there must always be a secret between Marinette and Adrien. The lovesquare can never be broken, otherwise there's no series. Sébastien knows that some people are worried about this. Will they continue the lovesquare for another 4 seasons or more? How will they evolve? Sébastien says not to worry, they know where they want to go.
-It takes them 14 to 16 months to produce an episode, but it's often much longer due to unforeseen circumstances. And they don't work on one episode at a time, but on several at the same time. One episode takes a long time because of the 3D animation.
One of the things that's complicated with Miraculous 3d animation is that they can only display 3 characters at a time on screen, whereas the series requires them to display many more characters. It's also very difficult to correct animation errors, as this takes a lot of time.
-The TV networks were very surprised by the success of miraculous. They didn't think adults and children alike would watch the series. The TV channels were a little confused because they usually make series for a specific age group, but since miraculous had people of all ages watching, they weren't sure what to do.
- Sébastien says he's very happy that miraculous inspires a lot of people to create things, like writing fanfiction, however he's not interested in it because he doesn't want to be influenced by certain fans who would love to see certain things in the series.
- Writing direction also means paying attention to how the characters speak. They all have their own way of speaking. For example, Adrien will never say "j’te parle", but rather "Je te parle".
- During the writing process, the writers sometimes act out scenes to make the dialogue more natural. This is what happened with the episode "Gang of secrets". They felt that, with the success of the show and the pressure it was generating, they needed to write something to relieve their stress. So they wrote about Marinette and the enormous pressure she was under to keep all her secrets. The final scene, in which Marinette tells Alya that she's Ladybug, came naturally when they performed it together.
580 notes · View notes
f1byjessie · 2 months
Text
A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.
sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.
( lando norris x photographer!reader )
━━ part three.
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 314,691 others
tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris
yourusername is it time for bahrain yet?! can’t wait to see these two back in action again soon! 🧡
view all 4,981 comments
mclaren We keep asking ourselves the same thing! Our engines are ready and we’re raring to go! 🧡
↳ yourusername you truly understand me mclaren admin
↳ mclaren we think you’re the one who truly understands us y/n
↳ user y/n x mclaren admin?? 🤯 the plot twist none of us saw coming
user missing these lads so much lately
user THE RADIO SILENCE ON OSCAR’S SOCIALS WAS KILLING ME I DEPEND ON THESE MEN TOO MUCH THEY KEEP ME ALIVE 😭😭
user the f1 drought is real rn
user MCLAREN SUPREMACY 2024
↳ user i’m trying to be delulu but we all know it’s just gonna be the mv33 and redbull show again this year 🫤
user soooo are we all just gonna pretend like we didn’t see the pics of her with garrett ward orrrrr?
↳ user no bc i was just thinking the same thing 👀
↳ user wait that was actually her??? cuz you can like barely see her face so i thought it was just a joke???
user what a fake ass bitch
user she only posts other ppl on her acc cuz she knows her ugly ass face would scare everyone else away
user homegirl needs to stay tf away from my man fr 😤😤
user god what a hoe 😒 she already has these two that she could fuck with idk why she needed to go after garrett
user SLUT SLUT SLUT
user if she tries anything with anyone else on the city team i’m gonna lose my shit fr
↳ user same omg
↳ user honestly i’m just glad she didn’t go after grealish or haaland 🙌
↳ user she probably would’ve tried if they weren’t taken already 🙄
↳ user nah i bet she’s totally a homewrecker garrett’s probably just the first on her list
user oh… these comments… 😰
↳ user right???
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by mancity, mclaren, and 198,131 others
tagged: mancity
yourusername the city boys know how it’s done! and looking pretty good in orange too 😉
view all 3,971 comments
mancity The lads are looking good indeed! This weekend’s match against Newcastle should be an exciting one! ⚽️🩵
mclaren ✍️ Jeremy ✍️ Doku ✍️ and ✍️ Ruben ✍️ Dias ✍️ McLaren ✍️ 2025
↳ mancity Do you think Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri would look good in sky blue? 🤔
user funny how she posts every city man BUT garrett
user god when does she go back to f1??
↳ user march iirc
↳ user well it can’t get here soon enough jfc
user FUCK OFF WE DON’T WANT YOU
user you’re a slag and should accept the fact that any guy would only want you bc of how easy you are
user i’ll bet my left leg that the only reason the f1 boys haven’t shacked up with her yet is cuz they know she’s probably riddled with disease since she drools over every guy that comes near her 😒 like girl needs to bffr and realize that throwing herself at every male in her vicinity isn’t gonna land her a husband and it just making her even more of a slut
↳ user nah i’ll bet they’ve all already done her over in f1 but nobody will touch her now that they’ve passed her round so she had to come over to football just to try and get someone to touch her again 🙄🙄🙄
user i hope garrett realizes how much of a slut she is and breaks up with her
user sick and tired of bitches like this getting with footballers and being all controlling. like i’ll bet she’s gonna tell garrett he can’t go out and party with his mates anymore bc he has to spend time in with her and then she’ll get all pissy about him having female fans bc she’s insecure and knows that if garrett got to meet a REAL fan he’d jump ship immediately. those of us who ACTUALLY care about footballers know their fans are super important to them and we wouldn’t hinder their relationship with them just bc we’re jealous or insecure. garrett needs to be with someone who actually supports him and is willing to let him do what he wants instead of controlling him like he’s a dog on a leash.
user kys like genuinely
user god i can’t wait for this skank to die 😒
“Hey Lando, it’s me. Your best friend. Again,” you give a humorless chuckle. “I could seriously use some of your wizened advice right about now, so, uh, please just give me a call back when you can. Thanks.”
It seems poetic in a cruel sort of way that less than a week ago you were walking Etihad Campus and feeling like you were on top of the world━ working a new albeit temporary gig, adding the Manchester City name to your list of clients, having photos of world-renowned footballers in your portfolio━ and now you’ve resigned yourself to hiding away in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall because it’s the only place you could think of where nobody would be able to find you.
You’re on the verge of tears and feeling rather stupid for it.
It’s the third time today alone that your call has gone straight to voicemail, and with the dozens of unread texts you’ve sent in the last week added to the mix, it’s starting to paint a picture you’re not very happy with. Lando is ignoring you. Or he’s blocked you. Or he’s blocked you because he’s ignoring you━
You bite down on your lip, hard, to keep back the sob crawling its way up your throat.
You’re not a PR officer, you hadn’t been lying when you told Garrett that, but you’ve spent enough time around the McLaren PR teams that you’ve picked up enough tips and tricks to know, at the very least, that the best thing you can do is just ignore the comments.
That’s what they tell all the athletes.
What they don’t tell the athletes is that ignoring the comments is much easier said than done, especially when your career requires you to have such a significant online presence. And the thing is, despite all of these strangers hounding you with every name under the sun and criticizing your capabilities, qualifications, and very existence, the thing that hurts the most is the radio silence from the only person you know could make it all better.
Now, more than ever, you need your best friend. But he isn’t here.
You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and unlock the stall with great reluctance. You know better than to be hiding away, shirking your responsibilities while crying over a few missed phone calls. You have a job to do, and a real professional wouldn’t let something as simple as a handful of tasteless comments get in the way of that.
You should be used to them. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.
Your first month at McLaren wasn’t entirely different.
When you were first hired on, Carlos had been in Formula One for a handful of years already and had built up a devotedly loyal fanbase with a decently large percentage of possessive fangirls who had come for your head the moment your existence had been announced.
The McLaren Instagram account had posted a picture of you standing between their two grinning drivers, your camera strung around your neck, with a very nice caption welcoming you to the team, and despite no indication that you were by any means involved with either of them in a way that went beyond professional, the comments had been taken over by feral teenage girls who saw the act of you simply standing near Carlos to be a direct threat against their “chances.”
Though it had been frustrating being met with childish threats and petty insults in your comments, you hadn’t really held it against any of them. You remember being a teenage girl and crushing on a celebrity. Deep down you knew you never had a chance with them, but that hadn’t stopped you from hanging posters in your bedroom and doodling their name beneath yours inside of scribbled hearts in your diary.
Regardless, it had taken close to a month for the negativity to die down, and you hadn’t had Lando then, either, so now shouldn’t be much different.
In fact, everyone on the Manchester City team━ trainers, physios, media coordinatiors, and anyone inbetween━ has been very polite about everything between you and Garrett. A lot of them have just avoided saying anything about it, which you’re very grateful for because you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your grimace while thanking them for their well wishes, and the few who have mentioned it typically only say something vague like a wishing you the best of luck or hoping you’re happy.
An intern gave you a sympathetic smile the other day, and you’d nearly burst into tears in the middle of the office of the Director of Communications, so you know you aren’t truly alone in this.
You just feel alone.
Exiting the bathroom is a simple affair. There’s no one standing post outside ready to give you any shit for being hidden away, and nobody comes sprinting around the corner as you make your way down the hall to the press conference room that’s been temporarily turned into your base of operations.
You think you’ll probably be able to go the rest of the afternoon without running into anyone, when you open your door and find━ sitting in the front row of the seats typically saved for journalists and the press, scrolling across his phone with a disinterested look painted across his face━ Jack Grealish.
“Jack,” you greet, a bit shocked. You close the door to the room gently behind you, and cross the distance to your desk. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I sincerely apologize.”
He offers you a polite smile. “No, we didn’t, so no need to be sorry. I actually just wanted to check in. See how things are going with everything.”
You blink at him in surprise. Apart from Garrett, you haven’t really had much time to speak with the other players. They wish you good morning and good afternoon when they see you, and if a ball goes astray they always call out for you to watch your head, but between their morning training and their afternoon training, their strategy reviews at lunch, and the frequent in between meetings with physios, nutritionists, and trainers, they don’t get much time to chit chat with a simple photographer.
You clear your throat, “Erm, it’s going well. I’ve gotten some really good shots these past few days. There’s one with Rodrigo that I’m particularly proud of. It should do well with the fans.”
“And things with Ward?”
You purse your lips.
“Figured.” Jack sighs. “Look, nearly everyone you run into here knows or has at least some inkling into what he’s like. He’s a prick. None of the lads on the team like him, it’s why the managers are trying to get him out of here.”
You lower yourself down into your chair. “He told me they were planning to trade him off because of his reputation.”
Jack scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the ‘official’ reason. They can’t cut his contract early for legal reasons, so they’re waiting for it to expire and coming up with an excuse for why they ain’t re-signing him. It’s really just ‘cause the rest of us can’t keep dealing with his massive ego and the fact that he’s a misogynistic fuck who doesn’t know the first thing about respect.”
“Fucking tell me about it,” you mutter with a sigh.
If he expected you to defend Garrett and is surprised by the fact that you haven’t, Jack doesn’t show it. He looks relaxed sitting across from you, like you’re having a casual conversation and not actively shit talking a member of his team. It gives you the impression that he knows significantly more about Garrett than you do, and that because of what he knows he probably figured out that one party in the relationship is not the most willing of participants.
“How’d you get all wrapped up it in then? Didn’t figure you to be the type to go after pricks like Ward.”
You debate over whether you should tell him or not. There isn’t much Jack can do about the situation regardless, but it would at least get things off your chest and if someone else knew then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.
There’s only so many days you can spend hiding out in the women’s restroom trying not to bawl your eyes out, and you’ve already reached your limit.
You heave a sigh, “It’s kind of fucked up really.” A pen on your desk catches your attention and you start to fiddle with it, avoiding Jack’s eyes which have focused directly onto you. “He asked if I would help him fix up his reputation by pretending to be his girlfriend so he could show everyone that he’s matured and can hold down a steady relationship. When I told him no, he threatened to make up a lie about inappropriate conduct to get me fired and blacklisted from the industry, so for the sake of preserving my career I agreed.”
“Bloody fucking hell,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m real sorry he did that, Y/N.”
You shrug. “It’s happened, so, there’s nothing I can really do except wait it out at this point.”
When you look up and meet his gaze, Jack looks murderous. His hands are clenched into fists on the armrests, knuckles white with the strength of his grip. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are twisted downward in a scowl.
“If you need anything,” he starts, “let me know. And I mean it. We all know how Ward can be. He’s a knobhead. So if you need anything━” his emphasis on the word and what that implies makes you feel more comforted than anything has since the whole fiasco started, “━then you let me know, or you tell one of the other boys and they’ll find me, alright?”
All you can do is nod.
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by user, user, and 213,976 others
yourusername there’s no place like home
comments have been disabled
━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry
━━ a/n: no lando yet, but we've got a cutesy little grealish scene to make up for it because i couldn't have a story with manchester city and not include him! lowkey writing this part made me wanna write for a footballer too... anyways! hope you all enjoy!
470 notes · View notes
cheemscakecat · 3 months
Text
Bucket Scene Analysis pt. 1
So I’m revisiting the Bucket Scene from Expiration Date, and I noticed some things. Spy’s feelings got really hurt, but the other Mercenaries didn’t mean to seriously upset him. Let’s go over their POV first.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Engineer and Medic are doing more experiments on the teleporter, so they aren’t present for the bucket scene. They’ll be trying to figure out a way to stop the tumors for the next three days instead of accepting the team’s deaths.
Soldier is too dumb to understand what’s going on, and Pyro presumably isn’t aware enough of his surroundings.
Demoman comes from a family with really disturbing traditions; they let him live as an orphan and only revealed themselves after he killed his adoptive family in an explosion… Because he was showing his skill. He’s actually expected to lose his sight entirely like his parents. Out of anybody there who knows what’s happening, he’s the most unbothered by them dying because of that twisted heritage.
Sniper calls his parents every week, and I’m sure he’s told them/about to tell them what’s happening. But he also has a plan to kill everyone he meets, so even if he is bothered by the fact that he’ll die, he’s not going to make the others privy.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Heavy has been responsible for his three sisters and his mother since he was a child. Around them, he’d be a bit more open and accept their hand on his shoulder.. But not Spy. Around co-workers, Heavy’d rather think on what’s happening and be left to those thoughts. Besides that, he already provided a secluded cabin in Siberia for his family to keep them safe, so if he dies at work he’ll be at peace knowing they’re ok.
I very much get the vibe that Spy never puts his hand on the others like this, and that’s why Heavy hit him with that Side-eye Claire face.
Tumblr media
Now Scout? He’s an interesting case because he’s about to humiliate Spy with the fake cards, but in terms of them dying in three days:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Ve have three days to live!”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
It’s subtle, but he looks like he might cry. Not in front of them, but still. And that tracks, because he and Spy are the most sensitive members of the team. You can look at Spy’s reaction behind Medic, and it becomes more obvious.
But Jeremy wasn’t raised by Spy.
Tumblr media
He was raised by his mother [who’s doing her best] and seven older brothers who are terrible role models. I have no doubt that his brothers were involved in petty street crime and gangs when they were younger, even if some came to their senses as adults. And gangs are not well known for emotional stability.
Scout grew up around seven guys that wanted to be “hard” and ignored their emotional needs/daddy issues… As the youngest and the most sensitive one. I imagine that crying and showing that something is getting to you was met with mockery. And being labeled a weakling. So Scout did his best to stop showing that “weakness”.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Now he’s graduated from the criminal fights his brothers used to get into, and joined a group of mercenaries. Since he looked up to his brothers and grew up imbedded in their worldview, he seeks approval from the other Mercenaries in the same way. That’s why he chooses to mock Spy instead of asking for the last wishes. It makes him look unbothered and he can call Spy the weak one instead of being cruelly labeled himself.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
But RED team doesn’t operate like Scout’s siblings or a gang. They’re all individuals that specialize in a certain area of mercenary work, who could leave for a different team or independent work if they weren’t happy on the team. [Provided they don’t release any information that the Administrator wants hidden, or rebel against her.]
So when Scout pranks Spy, they aren’t seeing his as a weakling; it’s not even crossing their minds. They’re smiling because Scout seems happy despite impending doom. And why shouldn’t they be glad that he’s having a good time of it? Beats being dejected and since he’s the youngest, they’re more worried about his well-being.
What’s interesting is that Heavy seems to sense that Spy is upset, because his smile noticeably fades when he looks up. But I still don’t think he realizes how much this prank and the teams’ indifference hurt Spy.
254 notes · View notes
xoxoskai · 4 months
Text
NIKOBRAN HEADCANNONS
to keep you going this last week before God of Fury drops<3
Between all his sons-in-law, Brandon is Kyle's favorite.
Levi's is Mia (cousin-fuckers who stole his son and daughter he'll always beef with)
Brandon and Niko are the type of relatives to wear matching clothes on Christmas because Niko would take up any chance to wear matching anything with Brandon.
If and when Brandon bakes, no one gets a chance to even taste what he made before Niko devours it all.
The only place Niko can fall asleep in at record speed is Brandon's arms.
The only reason Niko teaches Brandon how to drive a bike is so he can put his arms around his boyfriend's slutty waist boyfriend.
Remi is terrified on Brandon's behalf.
"Bran, yes, he's hot but mate, look at that guy! He has some skin on those tattoos!"
Astrid shares Remi's concerns but soon comes to find out that Niko is the biggest goofball of sunshine and almost adopts him.
Surprisingly, the one who takes the longest to accept Brandon is Rai. Because it's not her first time meeting the Kings (hello, she's a far relative) and she's worried that her oldest who is actually tender hearted and plagued by demons of his past, might be crushed beyond repair if Brandon hurt him.
Brandon and Landon think they can get away with tricking their in-laws by dressing as each other but they underestimate the Sokolov-Hunters who told them apart the moment they walked in.
Brandon tried it on Niko once when he first divulged about how Maya and Mia used to do it, but Niko could tell Brandon apart from his "psycho" brother in a heartbeat.
"It's your eyes" He had murmured. "Yours sparkle"
Glyndon is weary of Niko but as long as Brandon's happy, she's happy.
Landon is supremely unhappy.
When Landon first opposes their relationship by threatening Niko, Niko flings back "Remember who you're dating and what I mean to them" back at him.
Niko and Landon almost kill each other multiple times.
If there's someone even more unhappy than Landon, it's Crieghton.
Creighton: "Does this mean I can't fight him anymore?" Elsa: "Why were you fighting him before this?!" Creighton: "Is anyone else hearing this buzzing? I should go check."
Niko goes feral whenever he sees Brandon shirtless and vice-versa but
Niko is always shirtless, so Brandon is always suffering.
Unlike Niko, Brandon doesn't carry him into a dark corner to immediately fuck.
If there's no scene of Brandon asking Niko "Who's fucking you?" Rina, you'll hear from my therapist. And if there's not a single, evil, unhinged Brandon moment where Niko is flabbergasted at the change and is accusing him of being two-faced at which Brandon will laugh, lean in and ask tauntingly "What are you going to do? Tell on me?" I will sue.
Brandon's muse is Niko. (Bitch, I said what I said)
Unlike Landon, Brandon doesn't divulge this piece of information to his boyfriend because he does not want to give Niko even more reasons to walk around with lesser clothes.
Brandon gets a tattoo for Niko on his ribs. (cue feral Nikolai)
After which Niko tries to get Brandon's name tattooed on his favorite organ, but Jeremy literally deadlocks the door to his room to keep him inside after Niko asked for opinions in their group chat about his decision.
Niko: You don't think it's romantic? Jeremy, Killian, Gareth, Landon, Eli, Creighton, Remi:
Tumblr media
They've definitely rolled around in paint and fucked on a canvas after it. Niko would display it in the entryway of their house if Brandon let him.
They've also joined the mile high club.
After they get engaged, Brandon calls him by his full-name as in "Nikolai Sokolov-Hunter-King" just to piss him off but Nikolai loves being associated to Brandon in every possible way, so it backfires.
Their wedding bands have each other's name inscribed in them.
As does the underside of their ring fingers in the other's handwriting.
Nikolai tries drawing a heart over the i in his name and almost gets smacked.
317 notes · View notes
benedictscanvas · 10 months
Text
pick me up at seven - roy kent x reader
Tumblr media
pairing: roy kent x fem!reader
word count: 3.1k (they won't all be this long i don't think!!)
warnings: language of course, and this is a little steamy but with no actual smut. my favourite genre HA
request: I can’t find any good Roy fics until your recent one and I’m dying for more 😭 Anyway you could write something else for him? Maybe they’re at a bar and he gets pissed when he sees Jamie flirting w her? (Not a pre established relationship) - @kashee-h
a/n: your wish is my demand!! i'm so happy you enjoyed the first roy fic of what i hope are many to come. this one totally got away from me, i loved writing it so so much, thanks for a request that I really got to make my own! <3
---
Roy is the one who’s invited you here. Roy is the one who trekked over to your office at the end of the working day and told you that everyone was going out that evening. Roy is the one who suggested you come, even when you seemed reluctant to join in on what appeared to be an evening for just the players and the coaches. Roy is the one who convinced you that it would be fun, that he’d make sure of it.
All of this is making it very hard for Roy to accept that you are currently sat in a corner booth with someone else. The fact that the person you seemed to be having such an in depth conversation with was Jamie fucking Tartt was the icing on a very shit cake.
He knew he could be having a better night than just sitting on a barstool trying not to watch the two of you, especially when Ted and Beard arrived to get the next round and he didn’t even acknowledge them. They’d hired out a private room, so it was filled with people he generally tolerated the company, some he’d even go as far as to say that he liked. None of that was registering, however. 
Jamie leans in when you can’t hear something he’s said and he watches you nod solemnly, duck your head to stare at the floor as if flustered, and he wants to walk right out that door and never come back. Maybe he could get a job at Chelsea, or something.
“Now, what’s wrong, Jeremy Strong?” Ted asks, and Roy has to bite back a ‘fuck off’ so hard he wonders if his lip is bleeding, “You look just about ready to start wreckin’ the place.”
Out of the corner of Roy’s eye, he sees Beard lean in to whisper in Ted’s ear and points over at you. Ted looks surprised. Roy does not want to deal with this.
“You’re telling’ me our very own Mr Kent has his eyes on our very own Miss Y/L/N? Well, that’s just great! She’s sweet as anythin’, good for you, Roy.”
“She’s sweet on Jamie fucking Tartt, more like,” he says, even though he knows he’s being so fucking unfair. He hates it about himself. He knows how hard he’s worked on these feelings, on frustration and anger and jealousy, knows that a few years ago he’d be getting ready to fight Jamie down an alley further through tonight. Now he’s done that work, however, he can recognise the overriding feeling that he’s actually just hurt and that’s so much worse. It’s much easier to be jealous than upset.
“Does this call for an impromptu meeting of the Diamond Dogs?” Ted asks brightly and Roy is only able to stop him after his second howl. Higgins has looked over briefly but Beard signals him to stay where he is.
“Fuck no,” Roy blurts out, then reconsiders. Maybe he could at least talk to Ted, “I just- I was going to tell her. Tonight.”
“Tell her what?” Ted’s doing that thing where he bats his eyelashes like he’s in some sort of rom-com. Beard’s got his head resting in his hand, looking similarly up at Roy. They’re insufferable. 
“That I fucking like her, okay? Take those fucking looks off your faces.”
Ted and Beard scramble to look normal but come up short. Ted’s got the awful kind of shit-eating grin on his face that he gets when he sees Sam and Jamie hugging or watches Isaac doing his handshakes with everyone before a game.
“So, you’ve been spending time together? Or are you telling her out of the blue?” Beard pipes up.
Roy thinks that over. You’ve been spending a lot of time together actually. More than anyone at the club would probably even believe. He slips away to your office to eat lunch under the guise of needing a break from the American Circus downstairs. You text him when you’ve brought in ice cream because you know he’ll never say no to ice cream. You’ve met Phoebe. That one was by accident in the park, but you stuck around for four fucking hours and nobody made you.
Still, he wonders whether it would be completely shocking to you or whether you’ve been waiting for him to make a proper move. You’re incredibly difficult to read alongside being so stupidly pretty that sometimes he wants to swear less around you. He doesn’t manage it, of course, but he thinks it.
“Yes, we’ve spent time together. No, I don’t know what that means. Probably doesn’t mean shit to her, not that it would be her fault if she doesn't.”
Ted and Beard tilt their heads simultaneously at him and he wishes he could bash their heads together for a moment.
“But it means somethin’ to you, hey coach? I don’t think Miss Y/N sittin’ with Jamie should stop you from tellin' her how you feel about ‘er, hey coach?”
Roy’s lost track of which coach Ted is even talking to, but Beard chimes in.
“Surely her spending time with Jamie should be all the more incentive to tell her. Find out how she feels. Get that crushing disappointment out of the way now. It’s only downhill from here.”
Roy raises a brow at him as Ted gives him a look. Beard sighs, then picks up his drink and seems to disappear. Ted leans into Roy.
“Him and Jane are on a break again, I’m sorry. Look I’m goin’ to have to go find him but he was right, until he wasn’t. Go get ‘er, Ross Gellar!”
And with that, Ted’s gone too, weaving his way through crowds of people until he’s lost to them. When Roy glances back in your direction, Jamie’s got Colin and Isaac beside him instead and you’re nowhere to be found. He sighs and stands from his barstool, making his way to the exit. Maybe he’d think about what Ted and Beard had said tomorrow: for now, he just wanted to go home.
Except for the fact that when he finally managed to push his way outside to breathe in some fresh air, he found you. Leaning against the wall of the club, with definite tears in your eyes, even under the dim street lamp light. He was going to murder Jamie Tartt, slowly, with rope and paint and suffering involved.
But he knew to take a slightly softer approach with you. If at all possible.
“Hey,” he says quietly, trying not to startle you. You're quick to look up at him, startled anyway, and he grits his teeth as he asks, “Are you alright?”
He doesn’t make any comment about what the fuck Jamie had done to you. Doesn’t think it would be received all that well. Again, he’s biting the inside of his lip harder than ever.
“Yes! Oh god, yes, sorry,” you’re blinking furiously. He admires your resolve when the nearly teary face is quickly replaced by that bright smile that makes him weaker in the knees than he already is, “Fuck, sorry. I’m all good. I’m not sure this is my scene, I was just going to call a taxi.”
There’s an opening. He’ll be damned if he’s not taking it, even though confessing anything is the furthest idea from his mind - he’s much more focused on making sure you’re okay and nobody’s done anything to hurt you. If they have, he's already resigned to a short stint in jail if necessary.
“Do you want to walk?”
“Uh, I mean not really. It’s quite late, so…”
“With me, I mean,” he quickly clarified, wanting to bash his head against the brick wall, “I could walk you home, if you wanted. Or not. That’s fine too.”
“Oh, right,” you’re looking down at your feet as you contemplate it, “That would be nice, if you’re sure. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he insists, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk. He wants to give you his jacket and maybe his shirt too with the way you’re shivering, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s a fucking coward, but he will get to the bottom of what’s the matter if its the last thing he does, “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”
You huff out a frustrated sigh, at him, at yourself, he isn’t sure.
“I made a fucking fool of myself tonight,” you say eventually, and he can’t even imagine you doing that, “I thought…god, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Everything just feels worse when its…1:30 in the morning, don’t you think?”
You’d lifted his hand to check his watch before you said the time. Again, he wanted to hold on, but he let you drop his hand and it just went limp.
“It fucking does, yeah. Don’t think you could make a fucking fool of yourself if you tried though. Not around us lot.”
Your family, he heard Ted’s voice in his head. He was not fucking saying that. To his surprise, you let out a loud bark of a laugh at his words and he was staring at the side of your face as you spoke out into the dark air.
“I thought you were coming to pick me up tonight, you know?” you began, and his heart drops to his shoes. You’re upset about him?
“What?”
“Something you said earlier, when you asked me to come. You asked where I lived, then told me it would be a twenty minute walk to get there. Then you said ‘see you at seven’.”
He could have stopped walking. He had said that, but he was just trying to help you plan out your timings for the evening - you’d mentioned to him once that you were known for having some time blindness when you were getting ready for things. Of course he should have realised how fucking stupid that was, how much that sounded like he would come and walk with you.
He would have fucking loved to walk with you.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, far too loudly for the quiet night that surrounded you. You carried on undeterred, shaking your head. He could see your frustration was at yourself now, and he hated himself even more than he had earlier.
“My fault for assuming, I know. But that’s why I was so late. And when I arrived, trying talk myself into not feeling like a twat, you were already over with Dani and Isaac and Bumbercatch, clearly never intending to come pick me up. Which, why would you, of course. I just…felt shit. Jamie tried to help, bless him, but I just wanted to go home, honestly.”
Roy is the biggest idiot on the planet. He wants to go back into the club and hug Jamie for looking after you, then ask him to punch him in the face. Roy could punch something, anything right now, but he just grits his teeth.
“I’m-” he grunts when his voice comes out all strangled, “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m the fucking twat. I was asking where you lived and that to help you with that fucking time blindness thing you told me about. Should’ve known how it sounded though. Fucking idiot.”
He directed the last comment at himself, kicking a stone he’d found on the pavement. He kept his eyes firmly trained on his shoes as the two of you continued walking, now at a significantly slower pace. Your eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face.
There was a silence that stretched on as you stared at him, until-
“Fucking hell,” you groaned, “That’s so fucking sweet. You’re the worst.”
He doesn’t know if he can remember being called sweet before. Phoebe was often excessively complimentary of him in a way that made him uncomfortable, but sweet had never come up. He didn’t feel sweet.
“I am the worst,” he grunted, spiralling, “Making you feel so shit. Ruining your fucking night. I was the one who convinced you in the first place and now you’ve had a shit fucking time and I’m the worst.”
He’s a little out of breath and loud again by the end of his rant. The two of you have stopped walking. You kick the toe of your heel against his shoe, placating.
“No, you’re the worst ‘cause you keep giving me all this hope. I fucking hate hope, no matter what Ted says,” you chuckle to yourself, and he’s not sure what you’re saying but he’s peering into your now smiling expression as he tries to work it out, “Look, do you like me or not? You’re a good guy Roy and either way, I’m grateful that you’re walking me home. I just think if I ask, maybe I can just feel like a twat for the night and get it over with by tomorrow.”
“Do I…like you?”
He sounds thick. He feels thick. Feels like his mouth is full of honey that his tongue is having to wade through to even speak to you. It’s stuck to the bottom of his mouth, heavy.
“Yeah. As in, do you just enjoy eating lunch with me or do you ever look at me and just want to kiss me? Cause I do that all the fucking time, Roy, but I can’t be arsed to dance around it anymore.”
You look really tired as you stare up at him, but he feels more energised than ever. You’ve both just established that he’s the absolute worst, and yet here he is, with everything he could’ve wanted right in front of him. You, looking fucking gorgeous and looking at him like that? Even getting a job at Chelsea wouldn’t help him against you - he was gone.
There’s a smirk on his face that he can’t bite back as he takes your face in both his hands and revels in the gasp he can pull from you. He should have known you’d be the first to say something. You weren’t the coward he was.
“Let’s not fuck about then, yeah?”
Low and breathy. You respond with a nod so eager that he’s practically grinning when he pulls you in. It’s quickly replaced by a hunger he’s been keeping at bay, allowing his hands to slide into your hair as he deepens the kiss almost as soon as it’s started. He can feel your hands clutching at the lapels on his jacket, but he’s more excited when you throw your arms around his neck instead, tugging on the hair at the base of his head.
He growls and you actually whimper. It’s like he’s been set on fucking fire. Like he’s been struck by lightning.
When he pulls away for air, you stay close, peppering kisses along the scruff of his jaw, up the side of his face and back down again. He holds you to him tightly around your waist and feels wanted. He’s wanted you for so long, but to be wanted in return, so openly, it’s both hot and meaningful. He’s not sure anyone’s ever told him they liked him before. Most models he’d dated were pretty sold on the idea that he had to make all the moves.
Still, when you begin trailing kisses down his neck and there’s a hand on the top button of his shirt, he has enough sense about him to stop you. Even if he really doesn’t want to.
“I don’t know what street this is,” he breathes out, low voice little more than a rumble, “But maybe we don't give your neighbours a fucking show.”
You look thoroughly kissed when you look back at him, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. He leans in to kiss you once more to punctuate his sentence, watching as you duck your head, all shy, even though your arms are still around him. He knows now that when you ducked your head with Jamie, you were embarrassed. This is you properly flustered and it’s one of his favourite looks on you.
“Good call, yeah. Okay. I’m- I’m just around this corner, I think.”
“You think?”
“Shut up, you,” you whack him lightly on the shoulder, as the two of you resume walking, “Think you can make it all the way there?”
“I’d carry you if my knee wasn’t fucked,” he admits, watching you with a lopsided smile, “Really fucking like you, by the way. If that wasn’t proof. Thought you should hear me fucking say it.”
You close your eyes in a little half laugh - giddy, he thinks. 
“Well, I did wonder. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few weeks for someone who doesn’t like spending time with people.”
“Your first clue,” he agrees, taking your hand with pride now as the two of you keep walking, turning the corner towards your house. The pace is a lot quicker than it was before. He hopes he knows why, “I’ll be less of a fucking idiot now. Promise.”
“Eh, don’t worry,” you shrug, letting go of his hand only to thread your arm through his and take hold of his hand again, even tighter, “Nothing sexier than fucking idiots. I like my men with no thoughts behind their eyes.”
He properly laughs at that, head tilted back, feeling your head against his arm as you laugh with him. You slow down, gesturing left. Your house. The two of you walk down the drive until you’re at the door, face to face again and Roy is having a small internal battle.
“Look, I know you said no show for the neighbours,” you begin, almost nervously, “But does that mean a…private show is totally off the table too?”
He watches you picking at your nails. Can’t help it. He pulls you in for another breathless kiss, just to watch you come alive again, confident and fucking into him, however much of a miracle it seems. You pull away this time, clearly keen for an answer, but he groans.
“Tryin’ to be a fucking gentleman, here. Why don’t we do dinner tomorrow? Proper date. And I’ll fucking pick you up.”
You giggle. Still, there’s a glint in your eyes, as you sigh melodramatically.
“That does sound nice. Only thing is, there could be an intruder in here, you know? So, and I’ll only ask once more and then I promise I’ll let you go if you say no, but maybe you should walk me to my bedroom? To make sure I’m safe, you know? And then you can pay for my breakfast in the morning like a good old fashioned gentleman, if you want.”
You’re looking up at him, all hopeful again. His resolve is dwindling. You spin your keys around one finger and its a simple gesture, but it’s the final straw.
“I’m paying for your fucking lunch too,” he growls, diving into you once again. He’s beside himself when he hears you mutter a faint ‘thank fuck’ as you fumble to unlock the door and all but drag him inside.
---
if you've read this far, i fucking love you, you beautiful sunflower <3 requests open for this angry man and his favourite jamie tartt if you're interested!!
966 notes · View notes
mellifluouaamor · 1 year
Note
Hope you don't mind Dion or Jeremy reacting to their s/o getting kidnapped. I just want to see the world burns lol
DION AGRICHE, JEREMY AGRICHE (SEPARATE) ⍣ GENDER-NEUTRAL READER
synopsis. his reaction to you getting kidnapped.
Tumblr media
DION is eerily calm - at least on the outside - when he hears the news of your kidnapping from your bodyguard, johann. roxana watches him closely, as if expecting her half-brother to kill him for failing to protect you, and raises an eyebrow when dion approaches him.
he surprises johann by kneeling down to his level, and the bodyguard trembles like a leaf, fearing his impending doom. it's no secret that dion favours you a lot, and if he finds even a tiny bruise on your delicate skin, he's already walking away with the tip of his sword dragging across the floor.
kidnapping you - in other words, stealing what's his - is enough to anger dion, although it doesn't show on his expression. but he's even angrier at johann for failing to do his simple job of keeping you safe.
grabbing his jaw roughly, dion asks him, "what did they look like?" his expression is unreadable, and that only scares johann further. he's struggling to answer because truthfully, he doesn't know. one moment you were there, and the next you were gone. his head would surely roll if he gives dion that answer.
dion grows impatient and as he stands up, raising his sword to behead johann, roxana quickly stops him and says that she knows the identities of the people who had kidnapped you and where you're kept thanks to her butterflies. he'd demand her to tell him everything, his desperation to have you back in his arms becoming evident.
he doesn't need a detailed plan to rescue you; he'll do what he usually does and make it rain blood. as he throws his black cloak over his head, he strides out of the agriche residence with his sword in hand, ready to make your kidnappers reap what they had sown. oh, he'll make them regret kidnapping his beloved butterfly.
Tumblr media
JEREMY is beyond pissed. he's furiously turning his entire room upside down, smashing whatever his hands come across on the floor as he yells at your poor bodyguard for being useless and incompetent. he returned to the manor hoping to spend some quality time in your embrace, only to be told that some fools had kidnapped you. not an ideal welcome home greeting.
"well, don't just stand there! organise a search party and find (y/n) right now! if i find even a tiny scratch on their body, i'll turn you all into demon chow!" he shouts. his anger is clouding his judgement, and jeremy proceeds to punch the wall in frustration. just who decided to ruin his day by taking advantage of his absence to kidnap you?
after taking deep breaths, he manages to calm down slightly. he's not going to accept this. you had promised to stay by his side no matter what, and in return he had promised to protect you... he grits his teeth. you both can still keep your promises, and he's determined to fulfill his by saving you himself.
before johann could scramble out of his room, jeremy clamps a hand down on his shoulder. "you stay here. i'll handle this myself," he says before shoving the bodyguard aside to storm into the hallway. he'd ask a few of his half-siblings for help, and convincing them is easy; he only needs promise them that they can kill your kidnappers and take whatever they like from the corpses, whether it'd be jewels, trinkets, their nails or even their eyeballs...
jeremy is already grinning sinisterly at the thought of giving hell to your kidnappers. they'd be wishing they were dead by the time he's done mutilating their bodies beyond recognition, and his precious angel will be safe and sound again.
"no one takes (y/n) from me and gets away with it," he mutters.
2K notes · View notes
so-long-soldier28 · 11 months
Text
Favorite Sociopath
kai parker x reader
summary: damon and bonnie leave you in charge of babysitting kai. you accept willingly as time to get to know him.
tags: characters watching american horror story / ahs references, talking about trauma, past child abuse, childhood trauma, accidental cuddling / cuddling, bonding
word count: ~3.5k
Tumblr media
“I’m almost finished, shut up,” Bonnie snaps at the brooding man beside her.
Damon puts his hands up, “jeez.”
“He’s in Georgia. At this location,” she points to the site on the map.
“What’s he doing there?”
“It’s your brother, you tell me.”
“It’s not like I control him!”
“Ah,” a voice interrupts their arguing, “the two of you, still bickering. Just like in the old days of 1994.”
“Shut up, Kai,” Damon orders the younger man. 
“Harsh words! I’m hurt.” He grabs his chest as if he were stabbed.
“You’re fine.”
The siphon clicks his tongue, “so when are we leaving?”
“We? You’re not going anywhere.”
“Oh come on! I helped,” he gestures vaguely, “with the spell.”
“Suggesting a locator spell is not helping. But regardless, your help or lack thereof is not why you’re not coming. You’re dangerous; you can’t be trusted. You’re staying here. Y/N, you’re watching him.”
“What?” Bonnie whips to face Damon before you can even comment. “He cannot be alone with her, he’ll kill her! How do you think Elena will feel when she finds out you let the psychopath murder her cousin?”
“Please, she’ll be fine! She can handle her own.”
“Kai is a psychopath! Whether or not she can handle her own means nothing when you have a psychotic witch against a mere human!”
“Only slightly offended,” you mutter. Then louder, “I’ll be fine, trust me. Kai’s a sociopath, not a psychopath.”
“And that means what exactly? That he’s not capable of killing you?”
“No, I’m just saying… I don’t know… I trust him. Sociopaths at least have the capability to feel emotions, they’re just buried, or reserved for certain people. Psychopaths are the ones that scare me.”
Both are obviously baffled from your statement. Though as soon as Bonnie gets over it, she yells, “you trust him?! Are you crazy?”
Kai borrows your words, “only slightly offended.” It makes you chuckle. “Just a reminder - I’m right here.”
“And?”
“And, Bonnie, no. She’s not crazy. She can think for herself, y’know? And she’s right - I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then don’t. You’re not the one being told to babysit me.”
“Damon, we cannot leave her with him!” She turns back to the man. 
“Well we’re running out of options. We could go with my original plan and leave these two here, go retrieve Stefan, and return. Or, we could bring them with us. Listen to Kai talk non-stop all the way to Georgia, grab Stefan, squeeze all three in the back of my camaro, and drive all the way back, with Kai still yammering. Does that sound fun to you?”
“Better than letting Y/N die at the jam-covered hands of him.”
You roll your eyes, “Bonnie, I’ll be fine. I promise. You two need to go get Stefan before he attacks someone else, and Georgia’s a long drive. Kai and I will be fine, and if not, there’s plenty of people I can call for help. Not only that, plenty of places I can hide in this massive house.”
“Just not under the bed,” Kai smirks, “I’ll find you there.”
You stifle a laugh as you meet Bonnie’s eyes. 
Kai notices her expression, too, and coughs, “just a joke. Very bad joke.”
“No more jokes.”
Seeing the fire in his friend’s eyes, Damon chooses the next moment to interrupt. “You’re right, Georgia’s a long drive. Kai, no leaving the house. Y/N, watch him carefully. No killing, no threatening, no nothing. Call Rick if you need anything-”
“Ew,” you cut him off.
“Alright. Call, I don’t know, Jeremy then. What’s wrong with Rick?”
“Weird, just weird. Might be the beard. Might be the…”
“Spit it out, Y/N.”
“Nah.”
Bonnie gives you a glare.
“Fine, I’ll call him. But I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Right, Kai?”
“Mhm.”
“See?”
“Whatever. Just be careful.”
◇◇◇◇
Twenty minutes later, they’re finally out the door. 
“Finally!” You collapse on the couch, “peace and quiet!”
Kai takes the chair across from you, then watches as you get comfortable.
“Want to watch something?”
“I am.”
“No, you goof. I mean on the TV,” you roll your eyes playfully at his comment.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know? Let’s see if there’s Netflix on here.”
“What’s a Netflix?”
“You’ll see.”
After a bit of scrolling - the brothers did, in fact, have Netflix downloaded - your eyes light up at one show in particular. 
“Oh this is a fun one.” 
“American Horror Story?”
“Mhm! Murder. Mayhem. It’s a masterpiece.”
“You’re into that sorta thing?”
You look at him, “why? Do I not look like it to you?”
“I don’t know, you just seem so sweet and innocent.”
“Oh, Kai Parker,” you coo at him, “that’s the thing about girls. Even the sweetest ones have a dark streak in there somewhere.” 
His eyes stay focused on you, nearly black and unblinking, but it’s hard to miss the lump in his throat.
“So you want to watch it?”
“You’ve got me intrigued. Now I’ve got to see it.”
You can’t help but giggle in excitement as you press start on the first episode. “They don’t have to be watched in order, but season one is a classic. Wait til you meet the love of my life, Tate Langdon.”
“Who’s Tate?”
“Oh, just my favorite sociopath,” you wink at him. “Aside from you, of course.”
His cheeks flush, but he tries to hide it with a cough. 
“It’s starting. Meet,” you spread your hands out as an introduction, “the twins, that I honestly forgot opened the show. And I don’t know their names.”
Kai chuckles, smiling at you before turning his eyes to the TV.
Only half of your attention is on the show, as the other half watches for the witch’s reactions. You notice a small grin when the twin - Brad? - gets sucked into the basement’s abyss. The expression should scare you, but you find yourself more entertained than anything else. His face changes, however, when Ben’s caught cheating on his wife. Kai’s eyes darken and jaw tenses. The smile returns when Vivian cuts the man’s arm in a fury, making you giggle. 
“He deserved that,” Kai justifies.
“Oh definitely.”
“I don’t know that much about… like, love, and all that, but you should never cheat on someone you love.”
Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you smile, “okay, Tate.” 
He cocks his head at you.
“You just nearly quoted him verbatim. Couldn’t help it. You’re right, though.”
You guys continue to watch. 
Eventually, the scene fades into the introduction. You can’t help but stick your tongue out at it, and don’t miss Kai muttering, “ew. That’s a little creepy, all those dolls and jars.” He grimaces.
“Sometimes the intros are scarier than the actual show.”
“How many seasons are there?”
“Four, but I bet there’ll be more.”
“Good. Ten minutes in and I’m hooked.”
“Season 3 is called Coven. But I really want you to meet Tate.”
“Coven? Is it anything like mine?”
“Well, let’s see from what you told me about yours... Shitty leaders - check. Awful parents - check. Stupid traditions - check. Yeah, similar.”
“Wait… you believe me? About my parents?”
“Of course,” you say without hesitation, “I mean, they locked you away for god’s sake. Of course I believe how they treated you. Why it made you snap.” Your tone quiets at the end, afraid to hit a nerve. Kai, however, doesn’t seem bothered by the mention of his crimes. He’s too focused on someone actually believing him; someone listening. 
The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he remembers to respond. “Thank you. For believing me.”
“All the evidence is stacked against your father. And if we’re being honest, dads are usually the cause of trauma, in my personal opinion. I mean, just look at my childhood. Hey, look at Ben Harmon,” you gesture to the TV, “every shitty thing is his fault. Or, maybe I’m projecting. Either way, he sucks.”
Kai laughs.
“Regardless, yes, I believe you, Kai. You’re not alone in your feelings. And like I told Bonnie, I do trust you.”
He’s quiet for a second, “it means a lot.”
You nod.
“Back to the show now?”
“Sure.”
You push the back button a few times to where you guys were before your mini conversation. For a second as it starts to play, you keep your eyes on him. His lips form a small smile. Fingers are still, resting on the armchair. His posture, though…
“Hey, Kai?”
“Hm?”
“Are you comfy?”
“Enough, yeah, why?”
“Come here, sit with me.” You sit up to pat the pillow where your head had just been. “Don’t hurt your neck looking up like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“‘Course. I don’t bite.”
The witch chuckles as you move the pillow for him to sit beside you. He sinks into the couch and gives you a smile that reawakens the butterflies in your stomach. 
“Better?”
“Mhm, thank you.”
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
“What, why?” The question catches him off guard.
“It’s okay to say no, I just wanted to ask in case I lean into you by accident. Don’t want to startle you, or cross a line.”
“No, um, wait. It’s okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, you’re okay.”
Sensing his hesitation, you take slow movements to get back into your comfortable position. Soon, your shoulders touch gently, causing him to flinch a little.
“I’m okay still. I wasn’t… expecting it. I mean, I know you told me, but I wasn’t allowed to… I, uh, I’ve been isolated a lot of my life.” He debated his words carefully before settling on the explanation. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, sweet. It’s not your fault. I’m guessing your father’s responsible for that, too?”
Kai nods slowly. “As a siphon, who didn’t know how to control their power, any form of contact would harm the other person. If I was allowed out of my room, I had to wear gloves, but even then, wasn’t allowed to touch anyone. Then I was in the prison world for eighteen years, alone.”
Hearing another bit of his past makes your heart break. Neither Damon nor Bonnie have told you much about him, except for a few antics from the prison world. They call him dangerous, but haven’t even told you his side of the story. As you learn more about him, everything in you wants to reach out and give him a tight hug, but you refrain from doing that to not startle him. 
He acknowledges your silence, “is this the part where you run?”
You snap out of your thoughts, “no, Kai. No, I’m not going to run. I’m sorry, I was just thinking. How awful of a man to treat his son that way.” Suddenly, you turn your body so you can look him in the eye. “You’re safe with me, Kai. Okay? Ever need to talk, ever need a hug. I’m here.”
“Okay. Um, thank you.”
“So… you okay if I…” you slowly get closer to him until your shoulders are touching again. “This too much?”
“No, you’re okay. Feels nice, actually.”
“Tell me if you need me to move.”
He nods, then pushes play on the remote. 
A deep focus takes over to the both of you as the show continues. At some point, Kai’s hand begins to absentmindedly trail along your arm - a gesture you don’t notice until you feel a chill throughout your body. He feels it too, and immediately retracts his hand.
“It’s okay. I like it.”
Kai doesn’t say anything, but to your delight, puts his hand back on your arm. You stay like that throughout the episode, too relaxed to recognize the heaviness in your eyes as sleep soon consumes your body. 
◇◇◇◇
Sometime later, your eyes flutter open, making you confused. There’s no sound, not even the TV, but it’s a comfortable silence, not one that feels threatening. Slowly, you wake up more fully and are able to better take in your senses. You’re still on the couch, but laying on your back. Your head is on something soft, but not pillow-soft. A hand runs along your arm - just as it was before you fell asleep… Kai. Where’s Kai?
You try to ask for his name, but in your state, all that comes out is a whine.
Nonetheless, he answers. “Hey, are you awake?”
“Kai?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, but when did I fall asleep? Where are you?”
Eventually you’re able to pull your body up so that you’re sitting, not laying, on the couch. 
“I’m right here,” he waves to you as you reposition.
“Did I fall asleep on your lap?” The realization hits you, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. No worries, I, uh, kinda liked the contact. Like I said, I kinda lacked that for a while.”
“I know, but I would’ve asked first.”
“Technically, you did. And you can’t control being tired, it’s fine. Trust me, I don’t mind being your pillow.”
A blush creeps onto your cheeks.
“In fact, I wouldn’t argue if you wanted to lay back down, because now I’m missing it.”
That’s all the convincing you need to reassume your position in his lap. Though this time, you move your head so you’re looking up at him. “Hey, Kai?”
“Mhm?”
“I’m happy you trust me enough to be this close. I like it, too. And I like being someone you are comfortable around.”
“Me too, Y/N. Oh, and hey, I paused the tv about an hour ago because I wanted to watch it with you but you were asleep. But we’re some way through episode two.”
“I slept that long?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’ve been on Twitter, so I haven’t been completely bored.”
“Not Tweeting pictures of me sleeping, right?” You joke with a snort.
He snaps his fingers, “aw, I should’ve! Quick, go back to sleep!”
“Hell no! The whole Twitter-World doesn’t need to see my sleeping face! Bad enough you already did!”
“Awh, what are you talking about? You have a cute sleeping face. Twitter would thank you for being able to see it.”
The blush and the butterflies return with that comment. “I-uh-thanks.”
“I’m serious!”
“I, um, uh… do you want to keep watching, or are you bored?”
“I’m down to keep watching if you are.”
“Okay, press the play button.”
“Oh, wait, wait, wait, before we do - I met Tate!”
“Oh, yes! How’d you like him?”
“He’s fun! Highly relatable all the way down to the music taste. I see why you like him.”
“See?! My friends think I’m crazy for it, but he’s such a good character. And the way he absolutely loves Violet - he’d do anything for her! I mean, yeah, he killed a bunch of kids, but I don’t know, maybe if his mother didn’t fucking abuse him, he wouldn’t have snapped the way he did.”
You see Kai’s jaw set out of the corner of your eye. “Sorry, uh, spoiler alert.”
“It’s okay. Do you really blame his mom for that?”
“I mean, yeah. Yes, he was the one to carry out the crimes, but you can only take so much hurt and abuse before you snap. Emotions fizzle out until there’s just a numb feeling, and then… well, I imagine it’s hard to make rational decisions when you feel that way for so long.” A second later, you realize you’ve been ranting. “I’m sorry, I’ve just really studied his character. Done a lot of research, including research on sociopathy, and the long-term effects of childhood abuse. Helps me understand him, and what he felt, and what caused him to snap. Sorry, I’m ranting again, oh jeez!”
“It’s okay,” Kai swallows hard, “I, uh, feels nice to be understood. For Tate, I mean.”
You stiffen. “Kai?”
“Mhm?”
“Did your parents hurt you?”
“I mean, I was isolated for a long time.”
“I know that, but…” you don’t want to say it. Don’t want to open a wound; don’t want to push him past his limits of comfort. But, you need to know. “Did they hurt you?”
A visible lump forms in his throat. “What counts as that? Cause I mean, some parents just toss their hands in the air. Some others hit with shoes, I’ve heard. Jo’s friend actually mentioned one time that they had a wooden spoon reserved for punishments.” He’s deflecting. You can’t blame him; he’s obviously been through a lot.
He rambles on like this until he meets your eyes. Tears welling, threatening to spill. A trembling lip. You know. He knows you know. 
“Yeah, sometimes, Dad would. Most of the time he’d use magic, probably just to make a point about me being the abomination that can’t do magic.”
“For what reasons? Like, what did he see as a reason to hurt you?”
“Hmm, like if I talked back, or left my room without permission, or spoke to someone outside of the coven, like a sibling’s friend or neighbor. If he were really angry, like if I siphoned a sibling, he’d get more physical. Let’s just say, there’s probably a reason everyone wore long-sleeves with band tees in the nineties. Cover up those bruises with some devil band your parents hate,” cocking his head, he adds, “which then leads to more bruises but for different reasons.” He then pauses to clear his throat. “Eventually, I learned how to siphon the magic he’d throw at me. For three days, I felt so powerful. He’d hit me with a spell, and I could absorb some of it to fire back at him. But while I got a few good licks in, it mostly just made him angrier. He started getting even more physical, and later, would only include magic once I was down and unable to think up a spell.”
“Kai-”
“And then Mom died, and he only got worse. I mean, Mom and I never had a relationship so I wasn’t particularly affected by her passing. He was, though, and he got more violent towards me. I mean, he was now single-handedly raising eight kids - he had to take his anger out on one of them. Who better than the one you already hate? Anyway, life continued. Dad got more secretive, more dangerous.” Kai actually laughs, “I even feared him a little. I didn’t know if I’d ever escape that stupid bedroom, and even if I did, he’d make my life hell. Not only that, but it felt like he was planning something. And what do you know?! He was. Right before Jo and I’s birthday, the stupid fucking coven planned their monthly meeting in our house. Directly under my bedroom. I heard them through the vent, how they weren’t going to let us merge, and how they were going to wait until Liv and Luke were twenty-two instead. I had my suspicions about this - I knew something was off about the way he was acting - but for him to break coven tradition just to prevent me from merging? Fuck him. Coven always came before family with him, but he’d break the rules because he hated me so much.” Fire dances in his eyes, but he calms down a second later. “And that night is when I snapped. Something took over and I did to my family what my Dad probably wishes he did to me the night I was born. When he came back after whatever the hell the coven had left to do, he found Jo. And from that point on, I think you know how it went.”
Some time through his story, you had sat up to face him, leaving you now right in front of him as tears roll off your cheeks. “Kai…” There’s no words for what he’s just told you. Instead, you reach forward and hug him. Your arms wrap around his waist and you bury your face into his chest. Tears continue to fall, soaking his shirt, making you cry harder. A few moments later, you feel his arms on your back and he pulls you close. 
You two stay like that for a couple minutes. It’s nice. 
“I don’t want to pull away, but I want to tell you…” he lets you lift your head to face him again. “It feels good to have told someone. Thank you for listening to me, Y/N.”
“I’m glad you told me. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
He responds by pulling you back into the hug, “so, yeah… pretty relatable, your favorite sociopath.”
“Mmmm, actually, that title belongs to you,” you lean back so he can catch your wink. 
“Honored, Miss Y/N. Should we get back to watching your, ahem, second favorite sociopath?”
“Let’s do it.”
“Pressing playyyy, now,” he drags out the ‘y’. “Oh, and don’t you dare think of letting go.” 
You look at your position. Sitting on his lap, your arms around him, his around you. Your head on his chest, and his fingers tracing your back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
496 notes · View notes
wil-dearest · 5 months
Text
Anonymous asked: ok 🫣🫣 reader reading a * spicy * book and wilbur seeing them…. hehe
Mhm mhm, i see your point. Enjoy
trigger warning: the book you are reading has explicit smut in it and well its a little filthy at the end. but 18+.
brought to you by wil-dearest, may i present absolute horseshit
Kiss the Cook
In your defense, the book had been gifted to you by an older cousin who gave you a sly wink, telling you to enjoy. Your love for reading wasn't private information and had this been any other occasion and not your birthday, you most likely would've never read it. (Somehow, your relatives never get what you like. So they sit on a bookshelf as they collect dust and you sit on the idea of donating them.) And also because your cousin texted you saying the main lead was your type. And so if he was?
Here we are, three months after your birthday and you're sitting on at the dining table, reading. Your boyfriend, Wilbur, had been sweet enough that he wanted to make dinner by himself. And with the free time that's been so generously given, you give the book a shot.
Big mistake, after the first two chapters, it gets steamy.
Her head tipped back, with Jeremy's mouth teasing her skin, every touch and every bite he leaves spins her vision. "You understand now, what you do to me is torture." Even his voice, vibrating against the column of her throat, her mouth parts with a gasp. She does understand now.
She can't focus clearly but with the way his hands burn as they grip her thighs, wrapping them around his waist and his cock bumping against her entrance, it's as if her nerves had been lit on fire. The first push drives her nails into his skin and he smooths her hair down, hardly biting his moans back. "Ever since I met you," he gasps, interrupting himself as his hips twitch, "I couldn't get you out of my head. You consumed my being, every waking second." Maybe it'd been the wine, maybe it'd been the careless flirting because why would it ever be more than flirting remarks, it doesn't matter. All Nikki knows right now is how good it feels with him inside her.
You had to put the book down for a moment and cover your face, giggling a little bit to yourself. What the fuck had that been? You peek through fingers and eye the book, biting down on a bottom lip. You'll continue, you decided. Picking up the book, though, Wilbur came out to greet you, his hair a little run-through, like he was pulling the edges again. "How's the book?" He asks, smiling as he leaned in for a quick kiss. Your eyes closed as you hummed, not at all hiding your blush and your smile.
"It's not what I thought it was going to be." You answer, not at all wanting to admit that you just found out the book you're reading leans more into the erotic genre.
"Different?" He asks, his hand coming up and cupping the back of your head as he kissed your cheek. You nod. "And not a bad different?" He kisses your other cheek, drinking up your soft laughter. "Good, then you know where to find me," he pulls back, smiling at you. His thumb comes up to graze your cheek, where he kissed it. He kisses you one last time before heading back inside the kitchen.
You sigh dreamily, wondering how you ever managed to charm him with your tendencies to be a hermit. It cannot be helped, you'll just have to accept you've accidentally cursed him or something. Moving on from real life romance, you turn your eyes back down to the inconspicuous novel. It couldn't hurt to read a little more.
About thirty minutes later, Wilbur decides he's taken long enough and serves two bowls, taking the steaming meals and finding you so engrossed into the novel, you hadn't even noticed him. Now he's not one to be jealous of a book, but just how good can it be when it wasn't your taste? (Yes, he'd been privy to that lovely rant with relatives and their gifting habits.)
He comes around and he had to double-check his eyes were working before he came to terms with the truth. You've been reading erotica.
He starts to mumble the words, "Nikki sobs as she tries to clenches her thighs," you gasp, your head looks over your shoulder, unable to move too much to avoid hitting his head, "overwhelmed by the constant pleasure. His tongue was simply too much, circling her clit and sucking on it before moving the two fingers inside of her again-" you drop the book, covering his mouth even as he tries to read it still, and you had little doubt you look flustered beyond all reason.
"What are you doing!?" You shriek, turning in your seat as you hid your face in his neck, trying to strangle and simultaneously hug him. His laughter is a deep vibration that tickles you while you held onto him, your own nerves lit on fire as his arms circle around your waist.
"Well I came to tell you dinner was ready," he nods to the steaming bowls and then his teasing eyes turned back to you and you dive your head back into his collarbones, "but you didn't even see me. I could see why now."
"Hush." Your voice comes out muffled and you do nothing to make yourself clearer.
"Dinner could always wait and we can recreate the scene in your book." He says pulling away from you and before you can say anything, he's dropped to his knees, his hair falling into his big eyes that stare into you as he nudges his face between your legs. You could hardly breathe with how he gets so close to your crotch, how his smile widens when he kisses your thigh and grips the other one with his- his fingers and you curse yourself for being so sensitive because all you want to do is moan his name. You cover your mouth even when he licks a stripe down the crotch of your jeans. You feel yourself trembling.
"Actually," he says, getting up a dizzying fashion, "I'll make sure to get dessert after dinner." His smile is downright predatory. How are you supposed to eat after all that?
161 notes · View notes
totallysora · 1 month
Text
Newsies (Live)
Ok so I rewatched newsies live at like,,Christmas and have been caught in a major newsies spiral so here are my thoughts 😻‼️
Jeremy Jordan 🥰 I get that he was kinda old to play Jack but Idc he’s iconic I’m so glad they called him back to play him
Same with Kara she’s an icon and literally the only Katherine I will accept for the proshot
Completely random but I’m glad it was a proshot and not an attempt to make it into a musical movie 😭 (especially since 92sies is literally already a movie lmao)
I also rewatched the og movie and watching it reminded me how much they BUTCHERED SPOT’S SCREEN TIME 😕 and therefore Tommy’s screen time 😔
Also Tommy Bracco he is literally the only spot I will accept (and like,,the only spot on bway that Ik so 😭)
The bg newsies 🥰 Literally all of them they were all icons the cast was literally perfect it’s unreal
ETHAN 😭 HE’S SUCH A CUTIE AND IS SO DRAMATIC IT’S ADORABLE
Andrew Keenan Bolger, also so glad they got him back as crutchie cuz he is an I c o n (as much as I love Andy I deffo prefer Andrew as crutchie lmao)
The fact that there were enough members in the cast that there was literally only 1 case of a newsie doubling up on characters
Literally the entirety of seize the day
The fact that Jeremy runs away from all of the dancing 😭
Also how Jeremy almost kills himself at the end with the heel click/bell kick 💀
The fact Michael (Tommy boy) has a rlly bad American accent but that’s ok cuz I can’t do one either 🥰
BROOKLYN’S HERE 😻‼️‼️
How Tommy’s (spot) eyeliner/eye lashes are sm more noticeable than everyone else, especially his bottom lashes lmao
How tf did Morris not hurt his hand when he hit the printing press?? Like gurl what 😭
The Delancey brothers - they were like,,deffo less comical than in the og movie but still rlly silly 😭
The fact morris literally just stands on top of the newspaper bit for like the entire show
Them bonking heads (I am a Delancey apologist sorry guys 😔)
Ben Tyler Cook 🥰 I absolutely adore Ryan Breslin and actually would’ve loved to see him return as Race but god Ben is so silly I love him sm 😭
“The woild is yer erster” - Literally no one beats his version of this sorry 😭
Pulitzer - He was so good and literally for what bro 😭
”It’s a compromise we can all live with” - Jack Kelly 1899
BEN FANKHAUSER‼️ Also literally the only appropriate Davey fr
The way at the start of Brooklyn’s here Jeremy hits the printing press in time with the music
The set 😻 Ik it’s kinda simple but literally shut up it’s iconic
The height difference between Tommy and Ben at the end of Brooklyn’s here and like,,everywhere lmao
Honestly the height difference between Tommy and everyone
Joshua Burrage - He’s so silly I love him sm
MEDDAAA‼️ GOD HER VOICE IS JUST SO UGH 😫 AND SHE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART LIKE PLS MA’AM BE MY MOTHER 😭
Will never get over how they can sing like that whilst dancing
HOW DOES BEN COOK NOT DROP HIS CIGAR WHILST DANCING SO WELL LIKE???
So sad Ryan Steele wasn’t there 😔 The dude who played specs was good tho (+Michael covered for the turns so 🤷‍♀️)
Hannah was so unserious she’s so funny 😭
Once and for all - this song will literally always give me chills
TOMMY NOT THROWING THE PAPER STACK HIGH ENOUGH DURING ONCE AND FOR ALL 😭
Ben Cook kicking himself in the face during seize the day 💀
THE CAMERA ANGLE WE GET DURING THE RALLY RIGHT BEFORE JEREMY ENTERS
The hug between Tommy and Michael (Spot+Tommy Boy) at the end when Jeremy tells them they won ☹️
The fact Oscar and Morris went for Les first?? Like gurl I get it he’s probably easiest to carry but what were yall trying to achieve with that 😭
The fact that the Delanceys like,,actually got their asses beat like that shit kinda looked like it hurt 💀
SANTA FEEEE‼️ Iconic 😻
The way Crutchie screams for Jack ☹️ although that one “what ya say” meme where it starts playing after Oscar hits him has kinda ruined that scene for me cuz I keep laughing abt it 😕
That one two people cartwheel during the scene change
”I’m glad to have you back :)” “Shuddup” - Jack and Davey (THEY’RE GAY YOUR HONOUR)
There is literally no heterosexual explanation for that scene
THE LOOK DAVEY GIVES JACK WHEN THEY REALISE HE’S A SELLOUT
Once again literally no heterosexual explanation for that scene
Ok but literally just how much fun all of the newsies look like they’re having?? Especially in king of new york like they honestly look like they’re having the time of their lives 😭
“That’s disgusting” - David Jacobs, 1899 (when he’s a victorian newsboy who cares about hygiene 🥰🤭)
Ik Pulitzer saif it too but Idc ok the dude who played Pulitzer was kinda hot anyways (I don’t make the rules sorry 🤷‍♀️ [I am sorry for this tho my taste in men is uh 😨])
That one thing Jeremy does after he shakes Roosevelt’s hand for the first time 😭
”Your majesty” - Crutchie, 1899 (Referring to the governor 😭)
Maybe I should just make one of these with my favourite lines cuz I have so many
Honestly literally the whole fucking musical it was iconic and I am forever grateful that it exists 😻
Honestly there’s probably so so so much more but that’s all I can like,,fully remember rn but I’ll definitely rewatch it and update this lmao
Overall I absolutely adore the musical, and I’m glad the proshot exists cuz it is I c o n i c (also I am totally gonna make a list of my favourite lines from it lmao)
62 notes · View notes
darthpastry · 2 months
Text
Welcome to part two of my official Henry-hate crusade. Time to cover the true ending of Pizzeria Sim! For this one, I want to take one of the fandoms favorite moments, the connection terminated speech, and shred it to piece while explaining why Henry isn't really a hero in this instance. So! Let's go over certain lines. Maybe compliment some of my favorite ones so this isn't just hating and recognizing he isn't the absolute worst.
"And to you, my brave volunteer."
Idk about you, but it doesn't exactly seem to me like Michael knew what he was volunteering for.
"Who somehow found this job listing not intended for you."
If it was anyone else, they probably would've died. The only other person by this point who was known to be able to survive the animatronics was Jeremy and I doubt that even if he was still around, he would be able to fend them off due to brain injury. Also, not so much a complaint, but did Henry have someone else in mind or just threw the job listing into the void?
"Although, there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be."
Why not ask. Or at least tell him what the way out is instead of just assuming he hasn't found anything to live for and effectively murdering him?
"I am remaining as well. I am nearby."
Yep. Just make sure everyone who knows what's going on dies even though it's not like William hasn't escaped a fire before. Very responsible of you.
"This place will not be remembered. And the memory of everything that started this. Can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should."
I'm a firm believer in when history is forgotten it repeats itself, so quite frankly wanting people to forget seems a bit stupid. I agree that they shouldn't be trapped in the agony of it, but "this place will not be remembered" seems wrong.
"Although, for one of you. The darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole. So, don't keep the Devil waiting, old friend."
I can complain about Henry all day, but William is objectively far worse, and this line is absolute fire. Pun intended.
"My daughter, if you can hear me. I knew you would return as well."
Might be due to that animatronic you made to capture her and deliver constant controlled shocks and also somehow ended up in a magazine? Idk though. Just a theory.
"I'm sorry that on that day. The day you were shut out and left to die. No one was there to lift you up in their arms. The way you lifted others into yours."
But why. I get that being a parent can be hard and you can't have an eye on your kid 24/7, but he should've at least made there was a responsible adult present.
"Not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now."
Yippee. Negligent dad who can only making up for leaving his child without a responsible adult which led to her early death by using Lefty so that she can finally move on. Yayyyy /extreme sarcasm ofc
“Congratulations on completing your work week. We apologize if your situation wasn't presented to you In a completely honest fashion when you first started, but it was important that your intentions and actions be genuine.”
I cannot emphasize enough that Michael was not told what was going to happen and given the last sentence it seems like he didn't even feel the need to be suspicious of what was going on.
“Please accept this Certificate of Completion. Goodbye for now, and thank you for taking this journey with us.”
More of theorizing but it's kind of weird that this whole monologue was recorded and delivered if Michael is supposed to be actually dead. I know it's for the player, but I feel like they could easily spin this and bring Michael back.
Tune in next time where I cover the other endings, possibly rant about how everything in FNaF is awful for everyone, and miscellaneous if there's any!
@uvanuva
70 notes · View notes
Text
𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸. 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ
Tumblr media
𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader
| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, toxic family dynamics, allusions to and depictions of mental/emotional/financial abuse, high functioning alcoholism | WORD COUNT: 3.3k
| CHAPTER SUMMARY: When your friend shares some exciting news, you fear this is yet again someone in your life who will move on and leave you behind. Joel reflects on how far he's come in life after running into an old family friend.
Tumblr media
“Here’s a nice tip for you, sweetie,” Mrs. Baker chirped with a bright smile. You watched her wrinkly, dry finger scoot a shiny half dollar across the counter towards you. You fixed your expression into a million kilowatt smile of gratitude. “Oh, that’s so kind of you, Mrs. Baker, but we can’t accept tips.” You’d told her this every week for the past several months – every time she came into the grocery store where you worked.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” she giggled with a conspiratorial wink. You felt rather certain of that, if your growing suspicions about the state of her memory and mental clarity was anything to go off of. The fact that she was still making these weekly trips by herself was enough to make you uneasy, and the fact that she was the one driving herself here presented an entirely new level of concern.
It was one of the few reasons you’d managed to compile when you were looking for ways to cheer yourself up over having nothing but your old cruiser bike for transportation. You were nowhere near what you needed in savings to even begin thinking about affording a car and all the expenses that came with it. All the progress you’d made previously had been wrenched from you when your dad had found the jar hidden in your closet. It had made him feel vindicated in his “random searches” he liked to conduct on everyone’s rooms. It gave him some sense of justification whenever something cropped up, no matter how rare it was.
But, hey, at least your door hadn’t been beat off its hinges like Calum’s had. And, hey, maybe by the time you can finally afford a car, insurance, gas money, license and registration fees ….. well, maybe you won’t have to worry about encountering Mrs. Baker on the road. You feel a little guilty the moment you think it and feel even more guilty as you shrug and take the half dollar from her. “Thanks, Mrs. Baker,” you say quietly.
You tuck the coin into your jean pocket that doesn’t have the hole at the bottom and finish loading her groceries into her cart. You laugh to yourself when she just starts walking off - you assume the direction of her car. You hope she can remember where she parked it. Your coworkers and boss Jeremy were never as patient with old, confused ladies offering you insulting bits of change in exchange for bagging up all their groceries just the way they like, loading them up into the cart, following them to their car, and offloading everything into their trunk. You always pointed out that it didn’t really take that much time away from your duties and probably made a big difference for someone like Mrs. Baker to have that sort of help. Jeremy would always roll his eyes and mutter something about “not my circus, not my monkeys.” You were just glad Mrs. Baker always came when it wasn’t very busy. 
Tumblr media
The 17 minute bike ride to and from work was shaved down to a clean 14 with a bit of encouragement from the gloomy clouds rolling in behind you. It’d been a wetter than usual summer according to the weatherman, and it was expected to continue into the fall and maybe even winter. Combined with the fast approaching daylight savings, you’d be in for a wetter, darker commute. Bad news for someone who relied on a bike for transport, but you tried not to dwell on it. You’d just have to divert some of your secret savings and buy a heavier coat, one close to the color of the lightweight one you already had so hopefully your dad wouldn’t notice a new purchase and demand an explanation.
“Dad, I’m home!” you call out. No answer, but that was typical. After all, it wasn’t him who was required to announce every movement in the house. You walked into the kitchen to find him hunched over the table with the paper. You carefully place the six pack on the middle of the counter, casual and unassuming as though it hadn’t become a learned habit after too many times of you having to deal with him running out. His eyes drift up from his work and land on the offering.
“What’s that?” he asks as if he doesn’t already know. You aren’t sure what the trap is or what you’ve done wrong, but you also know there’s no other option than to find out what grievance you’ve committed.
“Just saw it on my way after clocking out,” you lie. You had to double back across the store to pick it out. “Couldn’t remember if there was still some in the garage or not,” you lie again. There was plenty in the garage, but “plenty” in your terms and “plenty” in your father’s terms didn’t always align. Better to play it safe than have to bike in the rain to replenish his stock.
He leans back in his chair now, having decided what exactly he’s going to take issue with. Because it’s always something. “You got a real talent for just throwin’ money away,” he sneers.
You steady yourself as you wash your hands at the sink. Slow movements. Nothing challenging in your response. He loved to lob these decentering comments at you, a sort of puzzle you weren’t really intended to be able to solve. The takeaway was always meant to be that “the obvious” was right there and shouldn’t have to be spelled out for you, but you were just too dense to figure it out. His statement was vague enough that it could be taken multiple ways, all of which inevitably pointed to some failure on your part. At least you always knew that was going to be factored into the answer somewhere.
Was he saying you weren’t good with money because you’d bought more beer when there was already some in the garage? Was he saying that spending money on full priced beer was like throwing your money away? Was he saying that spending money on something frivolous like alcohol was a waste in and of itself in the grand scheme of things? You decide to go with your first interpretation. It felt safest.
“I guess there’s some out there then? I couldn’t remember, sorry.” Accepting some of the imminent blame was sometimes enough to soften the edges of whatever was going to be launched at you. Sometimes it backfired and just added to the fire: you can already see how you deserve this censure, so at least you understand your shortcomings are why this conversation is having to happen in the first place.
“Ever heard of buying in bulk?” he huffs. As if he didn’t stock up every other week at the wholesale store regardless of if it was on sale or not. “Price per unit?”
“Oh, yeah,” you respond in feigned recognition of your so-called error. “Sorry, dad. I guess the 24 pack is just sort of hard to balance on the bike. I’m always nervous it’s going to fall off the handlebars when I get the bigger sizes.”
As if your difficulties getting to and from work were of any concern to him.
“So you acknowledge that you were paying the unspoken price of convenience,” he drawls. Ah, of course. The two birds one stone approach of insulting your efforts and inflating his authority as economic manager. The idea that you would pay a few more cents per unit to make things easier on yourself, to not have to worry about dropping and busting all the cans of beer because you couldn’t balance them. “At least you can admit it.”
He drifts forward again to his work, numbers and charts and graphs that you don’t understand and wouldn’t be explained to you even if you asked. The reprimand had been the short, simple kind. You quietly walk from the kitchen, place the beers in the garage fridge, and head down the hallway to your room. You lighten the load of your backpack and work shoes. The rain pelts gently against the window and is a full on staccato against the pane by the time you get out of your uniform and into your sweats. Getting ahead of the situation – making the call to get more beer without being asked or ordered to do so – had been worth it. You sigh and stare out the window. Thank goodness it was going to be a day where you’d played your cards well enough to come out mostly unscathed. Thank goodness today had been worth it.
Tumblr media
The only upside to sweltering August days in the middle of Texas was that contracting jobs slowed a little bit. Sure, interior renovations were still in full swing, but it gave that tiniest bit of reprieve for all the decking, roofing, and sweat-dripping-off-your-balls-it-was-so-hot sort of work that he only ever scheduled for in the “cooler months.” It was the closest thing to downtime he had all year round, even though it was mostly spent on office housekeeping. Catching up on clients and completed jobs. Fostering those relationships so they’d sign Miller Contracting on for another project. Building enough good will and enough happy clients that word of mouth could not only sustain business but had helped it grow steadily over the past decade.
Joel hadn’t ever been much into religion except for Easter Sunday growing up when his mom would give him and Tommy so much chocolate they had barfed it all over the backyard more than once. Yet, he couldn’t help but think about how blessed he felt. He and his kid brother were doing well for themselves. He just wished his parents were around to see it. It would make him happy to show them all their love and hard work had eventually paid off. All those tumultuous teenage years of Tommy getting into all sorts of trouble and Joel winding up a young father without much of a plan on how to support his sudden family. They’d only been witness to the very beginning of their comeback kid storylines, and he’d kill for 5 minutes to show them he’d managed to make something of himself and made sure Tommy was okay, too.
The icy wall of air conditioning smacked Joel right in the face the moment the grocery store doors opened. As nice as it felt to be out of the heat, the jarring change of temperature was something he’d never gotten used to in all his years in the South. He made his way to the convenience section and nabbed a lemonade. He plucked another from the spring-loaded tray just before heading towards the checkout. He wasn’t sure what Jordan liked to drink since he never seemed to have anything except water to offer anybody. At least this way it wouldn’t be so obvious if Joel showed up with a lemonade for both of them.
The wall of heat smacks him in the face this time, along with the blaring sun. He squints and holds a hand to the sky to block some of the blinding rays. He hears the rattle of a cart coming his way and glances over. There’s that cute neighborhood girl he’d see every now and again if he was lucky. He doesn’t remember much about you from when he first moved in – other than that whole strange thing with your mom. He tries to remember your dad’s face in his mind’s eye. Something sort of stony and serious conjures into view. He wonders if he’s just imagining it wrong because your face is never like that. He must be thinking of someone else.
Regardless, he couldn’t remember any of your names. He used to be better at stuff like that. When you smiled at him, he returned it with one of his own and headed towards his car. Yeah, definitely couldn’t have been imagining your dad’s face correctly. No way the snobby frown of a man that came into his head was possibly related to you with your shy but deliberate smile. How on earth someone so insanely gorgeous could only find work at a grocery store was beyond Joel. He wonders if you were even aware of how much money you could probably rake in as a bartender around these parts.
“Is that Joel Miller?” a frail voice calls out.
Joel looks over to see none other than Mrs. Baker. “Well howdy there, Mrs. Baker,” he calls back. He walks over to her four door and wonders how on earth she’s still a licensed driver. She’d been friendly in the church with his mom especially, and even as a kid he was never too impressed with her driving skills. He dreads to think what they are now, multiple decades later.
“How are you, sweet boy?” she asks, all warm and bubbly. He grins back and shrugs.
“Just keepin’ busy. You know how it goes, Mrs. Baker.”
“Well that’s better than the alternative, I guess. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Joel chuckles. He glances over to your retreating back as you push the noisy cart back into the store. “You got these folks so wrapped around your finger they deliver your groceries straight to your car, huh? You always were a charmer.”
Mrs. Baker joins him in a light giggle and taps his forearm. “Now now, Joel, I think we both know who the real charmer is between the two of us.”
“Hey, gotta pay the bills somehow,” he laughs in an echo of her words. Her smile widens at his teasing banter. “And, uh, your kitchen still workin’ good for ya?”
She nods and squeezes his hand. “Oh yes, it’s just as lovely as the day you finished it. You boys always do such good work.”
“Thank you, ma’am. M’glad to hear it.”
He edges around to open the door for her, partly to play his role as Southern Gentleman but mostly to get out of this conversation quicker so he wouldn’t be late for his next appointment with Jordan. She thanks him for his gesture and gives a little wave and brief goodbye as he heads to his work truck. If he made all the lights, he wouldn’t be late. 
Tumblr media
“But there’s something else, and, I’ll be honest, it’s sort of a big deal.” Kenzie was practically vibrating in place. Her high energy was the fun, infectious kind more often than the grating, off-putting kind. You weren’t sure how she maintained such enthusiasm when all she ever seemed to have was good things to share. Wouldn’t you get tired being so happy and excited constantly? It sounded exhausting in a different sort of way, but maybe it was a good thing.
She had a perpetually sunny outlook thanks to her perpetually privileged life, but you didn’t want to rain on her parade by saying things like that. After all, who were you to take away from someone else’s joy? Not to mention she was probably the only actual friend you had these days after all your high school friends had gone off to college or took up actual jobs and move out and got roommates or got married.
Kenzie was just busy and self-centered enough to not really pry too much into your life. It was a dynamic that worked for both of you: her with a constant audience for all her triumphs and growing life experiences, and you with the comfort of never having to say much about yourself or your home life.
“Well are you gonna tell me or are you gonna make me guess?” you tease.
“Uh, definitely not gonna make you guess because you seriously aren’t even gonna believe this,” she whisper squeals.
You have no doubt whatever wonderful thing she’s about to share is very much believable. Good things happened to people like Kenzie. It was never much of a shock when another ray of sunshine came bursting through the clouds of her life. You only wish that some of that “luck” could rub off on our own life. You raise an expectant eyebrow when she doesn’t say anything.
“Okay, so–” she peeks over her shoulders from where you’re both knelt on the ground stocking canned goods “–I’m applying for this paid internship thing my professor recommended me for.”
Your brow scrunches. You thought paid internships were something that existed in the old days when you could still smoke on airplanes and down a vodka martini 5 months pregnant without anyone batting an eye.
“I know, I know, internships are sometimes blegh, but it’s like a legit office and nice company and everything” she explains, wholly misunderstanding your expression. “It’s not like those old offices off the Milton exit.”
You don’t even know what she’s talking about, but you take her word for it. “Oh okay, cool.”
“Yeah, so I’m basically, like, a shoe in for the job since my professor wrote my recommendation. It’s not a full-time thing yet since I still have another two semesters, but over winter break I should have some opportunities to have something more like a real job.” She cringes at her choice of wording. “Sorry, not that the grocery store isn’t a real–”
“–I know what you meant,” you interrupt. “Keep going.”
She shoots you a grateful smile and launches back into her tittering announcement. “So anyway, yeah, if this all goes alright then I basically already have a full-time job set up once I graduate. Can you believe that?”
Yes, you can believe that. “That’s so crazy!” You shake your head and give her a big grin. “I’m sure that has to feel amazing, Kenzie. That’s so awesome, seriously.”
She was a few months out from graduating with her degree in marketing. Or was it communications? You can never seem to remember, and you’re too far into the friendship to keep asking clarifying questions like that. Anyway, it didn’t matter much which one it was since she had pretty much already landed herself a “big girl job” with matching “big girl pay.” The ever present and nagging voice in your head reminds you that she is younger than you and already so much more successful than you’ll probably ever be.
“Hey, y’all both don’t need to be in canned goods. One of you go see what Erin needs help with, huh?” Jeremy scolds from the end of the aisle.
Kenzie rolls her eyes at you with her back to Jeremy. “Alright. You got it, Jeremy,” she replies in a chipper voice. He stomps off as she promises to text you later with the rest of the details. You give her a quick side hug from the ground and tell her again how great the news is.
You stew in it for the rest of your shift. It turns and spoils in your mind no matter how much you tell yourself you should be happy for her and not so focused on yourself all the time. By the time you make it home, it was impossible to ignore the reminders that this was yet another person in your life that you were bound to grieve once they moved on from their station in life and did better for themselves than what they had here. First your mom. Then your brother. Now one of the few people who you’d managed to befriend since graduating high school.
You were left behind. Again.
You were never going to make anything of yourself like everyone else seemed to do.
You were going to be stuck in this place for the rest of your life.
You do your best to control the hectic breaths that start squeezing your chest, but you’re well into a full blown panic attack before you can even pinpoint when it started.
This was going to be the rest of your life, and there was nothing you could do about it.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
37 notes · View notes
stevebabey · 2 years
Text
it’s too late for me now (i need you sticking around)
a/n: ruby?? finishing something?? u better believe it! this was inspired by future me hates me / the beths & i STRONGLY recommend it for the VIBES + much luv to my dearest kenny for the threats so that this finally got finished <3 intended lowercase + fem!reader. word count: 3.1k summary:  it’s hard to believe in love after so many bad first dates — you’re desperate to make sure the next one sticks.
Tumblr media
your run with love had its history. 
consider it the lore of your life, but the winding tales of your many failed dates — that road was long. counting them went off both hands, much to your distaste. though, you’d hardly say you dated around; especially considering none of the guys seemed to make it past date three. 
what was the problem? you were splendid company if you did say so yourself. you tried to not be too loud, nor too quiet, a good balance of serious and flirty, all loud or odd parts of your personality packed away to try not to scare off any dates. it didn’t seem to make a difference — the fault had to be the male population of hawkins.
so why did you keep accepting dates?
well, it wasn’t your fault for getting swept up in it each time. somehow, you never managed to learn your lesson — but when a boy slips sweet notes into your locker or plucks a flower to ask you to dinner, it kicks your heart into a fuss that won’t settle and you swoon.
you daydream about holding their hand, pressing a soft kiss to their brow, finding a soft spot in their heart where you can nestle & live and become someone that someone loves.
it doesn’t matter if you’re cradling your still bruised heart from being stood up by jeremy jones last month because when the next boy asks, your stupid heart still flutters out what if it’s real? what if this time it’s different? 
and it never was.
perhaps, worst of all is that you were still so tangled up with the idea of love. there was no helping the flip of your stomach, the nervous anticipation, the skip of your heart when thought about love. the track record of your battered heart didn’t seem to matter, there was no shedding the hopeless romantic in you. 
however, it meant you were a tad pickier these days. standards high enough to warrant being called a bitch from the guys who couldn’t handle the rejection but hey, if they can’t bother with flowers on the first date, it told you everything you needed. you wouldn’t get yourself pathetically worked up on boys that only asked you out over the phone and had different intentions.
but still, your poor heart loved to latch to whatever it could. 
so, when steve harrington asks what you’re doing friday night on shift at family video, you have to curse the skip of your heart. 
for the last couple of months, you had gotten to know steve as your co-worker. as anyone who grew up in hawkins did, you were well aware of his prior reputation with the ladies — so it was a pleasant surprise to find you actually enjoyed his company. maybe it helped to have robin who called him dingus in the most endearing way and introduced him as her best friend. 
and if robin buckley, certified band nerd, and king steve could be best friends, then maybe you could give him a chance. 
and somewhere between the dorky jokes and his handsome grin, you had melted into easy friendship with steve. between bad customers that you gossiped about after and both of you attempting to distract the other while on the work phone, the two of you drew close. so much that you started looking forward to shifts with him.
so naturally, you accidentally grew a crush the size of jupiter on him.
how could you not? he always picked you up for your friday shift, knowing your brother got dibs on the car and you’d have to walk otherwise. whenever it rained, steve would trot to the café down the road and return with a steaming cup of hot chocolate for you, extra marshmallows in your cup — even though you didn’t remember ever telling him your affinity for mallows.
this time, however, you were determined to not ruin a friendship just because your heart had different plans. for perhaps the first time, you were not going to fall for the delusions you fed to yourself, no matter how much you’d like to believe that steve was different. even though you had sworn you’d caught his gaze caught on you one too many times.
you didn’t think you could take another crumpling of your heart, your ideas of love crushed once again, especially from sweet steve. friends it would have to be. 
“friday?” you ask nonchalantly, looking up from the returns cart and blinking at steve. “no plans, i think. why?”
on the other side of a shelf, steve looks as though your response surprises him, lips parted and you swear a patch of pink has crawled onto his cheeks. he clears his throat and ducks to place a tape on the shelf. “i was— do you like parties? there’s a party on friday.” 
your pulse jumps for a moment, a nervous feeling settling in your stomach and you try to shake it off. “a party? yeah, who doesn’t like parties.” 
it’s enough of a casual answer you hope, continuing to slot tapes back on the shelves slowly. without meaning to, your eyes dart back up to steve, trying to gauge what he’s building up to ask. butterflies swarm in your stomach and you clench your fists, willing them to dissolve.
“did you wanna go?” for the second time in one minute, steve clears his throat. you wonder if he’s nervous. “with me?” 
you pick over his words, trying desperately to ignore the way your heart sings. no matter how much you’d like it, it seems far more likely that steve isn’t asking you out. is this how king steve asked girls out? all suave and chillaxed? steve wasn’t like that anymore and it leaves you with no hints to the true nature of his question.
even if he was asking you out, you’re not supposed to track that road you remind yourself. a beat later, you realise as the word date hasn’t even passed steve’s lips and feel embarrassment flush up your neck. friends. you were friends. friends go to parties together! all the time!
“yeah, that sounds cool.” you smile at him, pressing down the hot flush you can feel fighting onto your cheeks. casual. friends. not a date. you could do this.
speeding back to the task at hand, you miss the fist-pump steve does, hidden behind the shelf and the quiet ‘yes!’  from his lips.
how do you dress to go to a party with your friend, that you secretly wish was a date, without giving it away?
apparently, you don’t know the answer. at least half of your closet is strewn across your floor, a dozen different combinations tried and failed as you stare at yourself in the mirror. you twist back and forth, eyes analyzing like a hawk and a groan escapes you when you realise you don’t like this outfit either. 
your hands pull at your face, dragging down your cheeks dramatically as you lean closer to the mirror and lock eyes with yourself. “it’s not even a date.” you whisper, trying to shake the nerves that are ruining every outfit you try. 
it works; at least long enough for you to pull on one of your better pairs of jeans and the new top you had yet to wear out and finally, feel satisfied. you’re just swiping the last of your mascara when the horn of a car outside startles you, your hand nudging forward and dolloping black onto your cheek. 
“shit.” you mutter and move to the window, peeking through the slats to spy steve’s bmw in the driveway.
“shit.” you repeat, wetting your thumb and doing your best to wipe the black from your cheek. in the mirror behind you, you catch the blink of your alarm clock. god, he’s 10 minutes later than you both agreed and you’re still not ready. 
gathering your jacket and bag, you nearly stumble down the stairs, your footsteps thundering as you speed towards the door. rushing in a blur past the kitchen, you call out your hasty goodbyes and step outside, the door swinging closed behind you.
the night air is cool, the moon nearly full in the sky and beyond the rumbling of the engine in passing cars, it’s nearly peaceful outside. you don’t keep him waiting. 
despite the chill, steve’s been waiting outside for you, leaning back on the hood of his car with his arms folded over his chest. he looks good; his navy shirt stretched deliciously over his biceps, hair fluffed in his usual style, looking a picture of cool. it’s broken immediately when he stands up in a rush to meet you, feet stumbling for just a moment before he catches himself. you must imagine the tips of his ears tinted redder than normal. 
“hey!” the word is tinged with excitement and steve’s smile betrays it as well, wide and bright. “you look— you look great. amazing.” 
it’s impossible to fight the hot glow that surges to your face, forcing you to duck your head to hide it for only a moment. god, the plan to not swoon has immediately foiled. you’re about to undoubtedly fumble through an awkward thank you when steve steps closer, one of his hands reaching for your face. 
“sorry, y’just got some,” his thumb grazes your cheek, gentle as he can, over the swatch of black you hadn’t managed to rub off. your breath catches in your throat, the skin burning where he touches it and you fight the urge to follow his warmth when he drops his hand. “makeup— there was something, uh, on your cheek.” 
when you don’t say anything, words stuck in your throat as you rein yourself in, steve ambles on nervously. “sorry, i’m late i just— shit, i hope you weren’t waiting, i just thought since when i pick you up for work, you’re always a bit late and—” 
“—steve.” you cut him off, finally finding your voice. “you’re perfectly on time; any longer and i would have started fussing over something silly.” 
it seems to relax steve a bit, hearing your voice and your assurances and you see the drop in his shoulders. he turns and opens the passenger door, a handsome smile back on his face as he nods at it. “after you then.” 
the radio fills the airwaves on the drive to the party, crackly as you move between towers and you bounce your foot in time in hopes to iron out some of your nerves. you take a deep inhale but it manages to make things worse; the alluring scent of steve’s cologne floating through your nose, a musky mixture of bergamot and something sweet. 
as steve parks up down the road, your eyes latch onto the house of the party, obvious from its flashing lights and occupants that spill out of every entrance. even before you open your door, you can hear the faint notes of a duran duran song playing inside. you clip the door closed and lean against it, waiting dutifully for steve to lock it and join you on the sidewalk. 
the two of you begin to wander, steve’s pace slower than expected but when he nudges his shoulder against yours and begins to speak, you know why. 
“y’know,” he begins, nervousness wrapped around each of his words. “i’m actually surprised you agreed to go on a date with me.” 
the word hits you in the throat, halting your feet. it shouldn’t shock you too much but considering you had spent the better half of this evening convincing yourself this wasn’t a date, you can’t help your next words. 
“wait, this is a date?” 
you cringe as you watch steve take in your words, expression dimming and shoulders slumping like he can’t control it. fuck.
it’s like you’ve kicked a puppy and through the elation in your heart, you feel a sick twist in your stomach knowing that you’ve accidentally hurt steve. head spinning, you try to grapple with explanations but steve beats you to the punch. 
“well, i guess that explains why you said yes.” the deprecating tone hurts your heart, a thousand thoughts competing for your attention but none as loud as the one that says tell him the truth!
“steve—” you begin, but he’s already speaking.
“would you have still said yes... if you knew that i was asking you on a date?” steve’s voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows tightly, his words tinged with worry.
it’s a good question. the battle between your head and heart pulls you in both directions; your lovesick feelings denied by your desperation to never experience another failed date. especially with steve.
“i don’t know.” you answer honestly, only to desperately want to reel the words after you said it having seen steve’s face fall further.
the next words come out frazzled, too loud, as you try explain. “it’s not that i didn’t want to! i’ve just had so many— too many first dates that go nowhere. dates where they want to end in a parked car or stop calling or—” 
cutting yourself off with a sigh, you try not to feel embarrassed at the ramble of your shitty love-life attempts. man, this evening was not going how you expected. you dig into your feelings, knowing that you owed steve the truth, that he deserved to hear what you truly meant. he waits patiently, his face giving away only a trace of his hopelessness.
“i like you steve.” you say, voice closer to a whisper at your admittance, eyes fluttering closed as you swallow your nerves. “i like you a stupid amount and i-i don’t think i could handle the heartache if you were just another failed first date.” 
a beat of silence. and then, the softest oh falls from steve’s lips in his realization which forces your eyes open again, seeing some of the sadness lift from his figure. you can feel his gaze scan your face and he chews his lip in thought for a moment. your heart all but purrs in delight when he reaches out, his warms hands unfurling your clenched fists (when did you do that?) to hold in his delicately.
without thought, you begin to commit the rough feel of his hands, the curl of his fingers that keep your own warm and toasty.
“unfortunately, i can’t see the future, so it would be wrong to tell you i know we’ll be perfect for each other.” he smiles, a hint of teasing hidden within it. 
the joking tone hits you the wrong way and you frown, pulling back a little. is he making fun of you? steve senses it instantly, tugging you closer and this time his tone is all serious, raspy and earnest. 
“but, i can promise i will take every date you offer because i like you stupidly.” he blinks, seeming to register that he hasn’t said what he meant. “a stupid amount! i like you a stupid amount, too. as well.” 
your words. he’s using your words to tell you how he feels. shit, you two haven’t even been on a date yet — somewhere in your mind, it quietly occurs that this means steve must have liked long before he worked the nerve to ask you out. you think your knees might be wobbling from the wonderful feeling in your chest that aches in the best way; you want it to live there forever.
“which means even if you offer me just tonight, i’ll—” he pauses and smiles so sweetly it makes your knees weak. “i’ll take it.” 
you can’t help the hesitation in your bones, the feeling after another first date that crushed your thoughts about love running reminiscent under your skin.
but there’s something about steve. something that yearns, that makes you want to risk the future heartbreak, the wide-eyed late nights, and potential stupid mistakes all for the chance of his love. 
oh well, if it went wrong, future you could hate you. 
“you better not break my heart, harrington.” 
the sunshine grin that breaks on his face could be bottled and sold, you think as it sets your body buzzing with giddiness. steve grins boyishly, tilting his head back as if he really has to think about it, pretending to hmm. 
his eyes catch onto the house party and another emotion ripples across his face, gone as quick as it was there. the genuineness in his response touches you with surprise. “only if you promise the same.” 
you want to kiss him. the urge has twisted into your heart-strings and you’re sure that steve’s gaze has dipped to your lips for just a moment. turning your head to survey the party, you realise that if this time you’re actually right this time, that there will be plenty of time for all of it.
you tuck the desire to taste his lips into your heart, bookmarked for later, and instead shift your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. you tug him along and finally begin the both of you walking in the direction of the party again. 
“next time,” you begin, your smile already giving away your teasing. “use the word date, idiot.” 
steve’s hand tightens in your own and when you glimpse at him, unable to help yourself, you can’t miss the beautiful blush on his cheeks. 
“oh, i’m sorry, sweetheart. i’ll make sure to be clearer next time.” he drawls, a touch of sarcasm in his words. he pulls you even closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him. your arms are touching, you realise fondly. 
“you better be.” 
he leans in, breath warm on your ear and you can’t help but melt at the next words that fall from his lips, soft and natural. “do you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” 
you can’t help your giggle, flustered and hot in the face because man, is he good at this. it makes you ache with want, wanting and wishing with every part of your being that this works.
even though you shouldn’t be promising anything dates before the first has happened, you know steve and you nod eagerly — then tug him into the music, your hands keeping you connected as you step into the dark together.  
tomorrow, when he picks you up in his car, bouquet in his hands, you will let the buzz in your body take over because god if that doesn’t make you weak in the knees. 
when he takes your hand, a thought will niggle in the back of your head, something about waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this date to be the last and for him to stop calling, stop dropping off flowers and kisses, for him to stop gazing at you like you hang the goddamn moon.
another thought, steadier and sure, will tell you that you might be waiting awhile.
— 
just tagging ppl below! hehe sorry mutuals u HAVE to see this but also this means u shud tag ME in everything <3
@hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @parkerroos @cptnleviackerman @skylergisondo @cultivatingkindness @aphrodites-perfume @lurkymurker @familyvideostevie @rogersharringtons @sattlersquarry @yellowharrington @upsidedownwithsteve​ @milkiane
698 notes · View notes
klausysworld · 1 year
Note
So my idea if you accept it for a request is klaus x demigod daughter of Hecate reader and how it would be? Ps like the maybe the ready hate Elena and her friends and when they tried to kill klaus she beat them up and he’s totally taken by her?
Tumblr media
I love everything about you.
Being the daughter of Hecate i was deeply respected by the supernatural community. I could pretty much take everyone out with the flick of my wrist so they liked to tread carefully.
These fucking mystic falls cockroaches however seemed to think they could do as they please when they please with no consequences. Elena the doppelgänger seemed to have some sort of invisible leash on everyone in that town, she had two vampire brothers tripping over each other for her, a blonde vampire who was at her beck and call and a Bennett witch who deemed herself ‘invincible’. Honestly, what in the underworld is going on here.
Let’s just say it was a breath of fresh air when the Mikaelsons came up, finally some people who weren’t ogling Elena. I knew who they were already of course, besides my mother was the one to grant Esther the power to create them. My mother’s most sacred animal is the dog, black dogs especially for some reason and so it only made me take a further interest when i witness Niklaus transform into a midnight black wolf. I followed him the whole two days he was a wolf, due to interest yes and also to make sure nothing happened to him, he could protect himself i know but still having a demigoddess watching over you is still an extra safety net.
He looked directly at me a few times but each attempt he made to near me was stopped when i would dissolve into a cloud of mist. His head would tilt and his ears would lay flaw against his head as he reluctantly walked away.
The next time i saw him was when he was in the smokey mountains, poor thing was trying to create more of himself, he just wasn’t seeing the correct picture to follow. I slowly approached him when he sat on a log, head in his hands and bodies piled around him as he waited for Stefan to arrive with a dead Ray. I sat next to him silently and gently rubbed his back, he tensed completely as her glanced up at me, confusion clear in his expression as he whispered a quiet “it’s you”
Not even a second later Stefan arrived and made myself vanish again. It was fun to watch how frustrated he became. I stuck around and went to Chicago but then i had to leave because Gloria started freaking out. She was all “you’ve brought a type of darkness with you” it was weird but like okay?
She couldn’t see me but she started chanting stuff and my mother told me to leave her be so i did.
Mystic falls was boring and Elena was a whiney about Stefan while also trying to fuck his brother, Caroline was always with Tyler and Bonnie was comforting Elena. Jeremy was alright, we spoke sometimes and he always served me at the grill, Matt does not like me one bit and i do not mind that at all.
Eventually Klaus came back and i wasn’t exactly expecting it. He had walked right into me or i walked into him but anyway i got mad cuz i spilt my drink on myself and thought it was gonna be like Damon or something so i started yelling
“can people in this town not look where they’re going for five fucking minutes!? honestly you would think a vampire would have a better sense of direction but noooo” i was wiping at my shirt aggressively until i realised the coffee wasn’t going to come out. I glared back up at the supernatural being to find those beautiful arctic blue eyes. His pretty pink lips were parted in an almost gaping way as he stared at me wide eyed. I felt my anger melt away as i studied the shock within his face.
“i’m… sorry…i wasn’t looking, i was upset about something… and was in a rush” he spoke slow and sounded uncertain
“oh, right well i shouldn’t have yelled. Come on, i need to put on a clean shirt and you can tell me about your problems” now yes i could have probably just made a new shirt appear on my but i didn’t fancy missing the opportunity to bring Niklaus along with me. He reluctantly began telling me that the little gang had brought Mikael to town, tried to kill him and then Stefan stole his family in coffins.
I invited him inside, much to his surprise, and started the kettle. I didn’t bother asking him to turn around when i changed my clothes and didn’t comment on his reddened cheeks as he swallowed thickly.
He stayed for dinner in the end and i managed to dodge any and all questions he tried to ask about who i was or how i knew who he was.
I drove him to the hotel he was staying at while his mansion was being built and even went as far to come inside and see how fancy it was. Let me just tell you it was nice. Real rich people shit.
I said goodnight but just as i was walking out the door his hand was around my wrist making me turn back to him
“yes?” i asked
“i don’t even know your name” he stated or asked?
“maybe next time Niklaus” i whispered before disappearing before him.
From that day i actually saw him quite a bit. Sometimes he even came round for food, he was at my door far more often than i had expected and never brought any threats with him, which was odd as in my experience when someone didn’t know what i was they were very demanding and liked to try and kill me.
I managed to help him get the majority of his family back, his brother Elijah was woken up and he then as a result woke the rest of his family. That night Niklaus stayed at my house…in my bed next to me. He had been sat on my doorstep when i got home with tear stains on his soft skin
“my siblings all hate me and my mother is alive” was all he whispered. I simply opened the door and lead him upstairs to my bed so he could lay down, I got ready for bed and got in with him, now i swear that we fell asleep on opposite sides but somehow we woke up with our legs tangled together, his forehead resting on my shoulder and my fingers in his hair.
He went home after breakfast however returning very soon after with a nervous smile and a box. He handed it to me quickly before vamp speeding away making me laugh at his actions.
The box held a gorgeous dress and an invitation to a ball… as his date.
I made sure to consult with my mother, she said that it was a great idea and he would be great for me, that was the last push i needed to know that i should be with him.
Once i arrived he was already in-front of me, pulling me through the crowd to introduce me to his brother Elijah and his sister Rebekah, he wasn’t sure where Kol and Finn were. They seemed thoroughly amused at his eagerness as they looked me over a few times
“you must be the girl he won’t stop blabbing about, at least he was telling the truth, you are remarkably beautiful, i think you’ll do just fine, come we can judge the other peoples outfits” Rebekah already tool my hand dragging me away from Nik and Elijah.
That night i was told many embarrassing stories of Niklaus, i was threatened by Rebekah not to harm him, Finn gave me some dodgey looked and Kol stared at me in utter astonishment. It was an interesting evening.
I got to dance with Niklaus though, he held me close and spoke quietly into my ear, the moment seemed so intimate. I felt safe and warm with him, his arms around my felt like they were protecting me despite my immortal status.
I ended up staying the night with him as well. There was moment where he seemed as though he was about to kiss me but he backed away and decided to show me art room instead. He was unbelievably talented and i made sure to express how impressed i was which he seemed to immensely appreciate and blushed ferociously at. I told him he was cute but apparently that offended him as he then chased me around the house until he tickled me near to death while i thrashed about on his bed. Eventually we fell asleep after many meaningless conversations that somehow brought us closer though i began to feel bad that i wasn’t sharing much about my past or what i was.
The next day i went home early as i needed to consult with my mother and the other gods/goddesses to see if they would allow me to tell him who i was. Once they agreed i went to the grill to find him. However before i could get to him i heard Damon, Stefan, Matt and Caroline all whispering in the alleyway outside
“Caroline you go in and try distract Klaus, he’s bound to go for you. Then Rick will dagger Klaus and we can grab Klaus”
i sat and waited for Niklaus to follow the blonde outside, i could sense his wariness as he suspiciously eyed the girl.
The second he brought his hand up to his chest as a sign of pain, Damon, Stefan and Caroline were all grabbing him trying to get him on the floor. I felt a rush of power as i flung them all in different directions, they sped back quickly trying to throw me at the alley wall. I got up unscratched and snapped Carolines neck with a snap of my fingers. Damon went straight to my neck and buried his teeth in, Klaus’s cry of agony had me ripping the vampire off me and creating a stake in my hand to impale him with before spinning round to find Stefan with a terrified look on his face and a semi conscious Klaus.
Suddenly Elijah was stood there with a grey looking Kol and was threatening them by sending Rebekah to murder Elena. I wasn’t paying much attention as i quickly checked for any damage to Niklaus. His eyes were wide and he seemed incredibly shocked but other than that he was fine. I pulled him up to stand on his feet before wrapping my arms around him and kissing his cheek
“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have left you this morning, i shouldn’t have let them touch you” i muttered to him and he didn’t hesitate in hugging me back. I slowly pulled away and turned to his brothers, Elijah was clearly surprised as he glanced at the temporarily dead vampires and then back at me. Kol was practically buzzing where he stood
“I can not believe you are real! oh god can i have a hug to!?” I raised both my eyebrows and he threw himself at me and engulfed me into a hug, much to Klaus’s dismay as he growled and shoved his brother off
“what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!?” he yelled as he pulled me behind him
“you don’t know who she is?? I mean seriously??” he whispered loudly
“She’s like a goddess” he muttered
“Demi-goddess but whatever” i added
“what?” both Elijah and Klaus questioned
“Hecate, you know like the actual goddess of like magic, witchcraft, the night, light, ghosts, necromancy… and the moon! She’s like real powerful, anyways that’s her daughter” he pointed to me with a wide grin and i let out a laugh at the astonishment everyone was expressing
“you know this is fun but maybe we should focus on the psychopathic mother of yours?”
“right… we can return to this at a later date” Elijah mumbled with a scratch if his head before dragging an excited Kol along with him
I turned back to Nik with a guilty expression
“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you… there are certain rules about telling beings from other realms our secrets and i needed to ask for permission. That’s actually why i left this morning, i asked and i was allowed to tell you…i understand if it’s a lot though, of course-“ I was cut off by the feeling of soft lips on mine, effectively shutting me up as i melted against him. Our lips moved together perfectly and it was as though something had shifted in the world, this was the person for me.
“believe me my love, this is just one more thing that i love about you” he whispered while breathing heavily
“i love everything about you” i replied quietly and he blushed once more as he smiled bashfully
367 notes · View notes
swirlingthings · 7 months
Text
Hi Tumblr!! I thought I’d share a small extract from my new blog post ‘Good Omens Is Heaven For Autistic People - An In-Depth Look’! I touch on a lot of different things including Aziraphale’s behaviour, his relationship with Heaven and their moral framework versus his relationship with Crowley, as well as his arc across both seasons of the show (and looking forward to season 3). I’m so proud of it, and the response so far has been incredible. I’ll include a link to the full piece at the bottom of this post. Thank you for reading! ❤️🥂
Aziraphale has interests in food, books (particularly books of prophecy and rare texts), music (mostly classical – this also links to his love of dance) and most of all: magic tricks. When engaging with these interests, his behaviour becomes much more physically expressive. No other episode of Good Omens makes this clearer than S2E4 ‘The Hitchhiker’ – not in the main present day plot, but the minisode ‘Nazi Zombie Flesheaters’ (‘NZFE’). Written by Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman, the minisode is a direct continuation of the iconic 1941 ‘Lift Home?’ scene from the Good Omens S1E3 cold open.
Crowley drives Aziraphale to The Windmill Theatre where he needs to drop off some whiskey to Mrs Henderson (Dame Siân Phillips), only to discover that the bottles were smashed due to Crowley parking his Bentley close to the church that was bombed. Aziraphale then offers to fill the role of the magician who was meant to be performing at the theatre that very night, partly to repay Crowley’s good deed of saving his books and partly for the joy of doing magic tricks on a West End stage. The pair return to the bookshop where Aziraphale gleefully demonstrates a sleight of hand coin trick. It is perhaps the most joyful we have ever seen him, and his physical movement reflects this extreme emotion that he is processing. It’s not hard to see why many autistic fans immediately drew comparisons to ‘stimming’ here.
One of the reasons this minisode was so anticipated is because Aziraphale falls in love with Crowley in 1941. Aziraphale disclosing his love of magic, or certainly the extent of it, to anyone other than Crowley is difficult to imagine, and for this to happen at this stage in their relationship is telling. He has just begun viewing Crowley in a different way and is now openly engaging with something he knows the other celestial/demonic beings do not understand in front of him, and with him.
After Crowley expresses some concern over whether a coin trick is appropriate for a West End stage, Aziraphale comments that he is not a professional conjurer, much to Crowley’s dismissal. Aziraphale is delighted by this, not just because of the excitement of what he is about to undertake but also because Crowley believes in him.
Good Omens does not combat preconceived ideas of autism held by neurotypical people because there are no explicitly autistic characters. This limits how much it can actually challenge stereotypes or make people think differently, as most of the audience will not connect what they are seeing to their idea of autism. However, I do think it does help to challenge the notion that certain personality traits or behaviours which are common in autistic people are “weird”, or some other kind of negative thing. Stimming in particular is often viewed negatively by neurotypical people, but in Good Omens you are supposed to notice how heavily Aziraphale masks when in Heaven, and you’re supposed to see how comfortable he is around Crowley because their love story (and Aziraphale’s journey of accepting himself fully) is at the very centre of the show. He usually stims the most when he is engaging in something which brings him joy, like magic, and seeing him do this openly in front of Crowley is heartwarming.
It is refreshing and beautiful to see an autistic-coded character be so completely and passionately adored, and for this to be at the heart of the piece of media. Autistic characters are rarely shown as love interests; they’re often not adults at all. Aziraphale and Crowley are very different from each other, but again, this works naturally as part of the story and is not done as a way of “othering” either one of them. They also understand each other, and even though at times their communication hasn’t been clear, this is mostly related to their differing morals and perceptions of Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale is completely free around Crowley and doesn’t mask any aspect of himself when they’re together – if that’s not true love, then I’m not sure what is.
Good Omens Is Heaven For Autistic People - An In-Depth Look. swirlywords.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
108 notes · View notes
shelbystales · 2 years
Text
Best Aid - Part One
Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist
Summary:you are a young doctor in Birmingham. After a crazy incident, Thomas Shelby shows up at your hospital. You don't know much about the man everyone seems to fear, but you definitely will.
Warning: Swearing, surgery, mention of blood, violence
A/N: i don't know if i will continue this... comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot thank you very much
English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
It was already mid-morning. You looked at your watch for the tenth time in less than a minute. Your shift seemed to last forever. Which was very strange since it was a full moon night, and it was common for doctors and nurses to joke that on a full moon things got so crazy that a werewolf could easily walk through the door.
"coffee?" Jeremy, one of the nurses on duty with you asked.
"Yes, please! Things are so slow," you complained, and he laughed
"You're the only one who complains about that," he said, handing you the horribly strong coffee
"Jesus, are you trying to kill me?" you asked, giving the coffee back to him while making a face "this is poison, not coffee," he laughed
"The stronger, the better," he said, and you shook your head in disapproval.
"He definitely doesn't know how to make coffee. haven't you learned yet, y/n?" Lauren, a nurse for years at this hospital, spoke, leaning on the counter in front of you.
"yeah, lack of sleep makes you forget stuff," you said
"Go rest. we hold the ends here," she suggested, and you smiled considering her proposal.
You were new to the hospital, new to medicine in general. you had just finished your residency program in London and because of your mother's failing health, you decided to return to Birmingham and help your brothers and sisters to take care of her.
It had been less than two months since you had been accepted as an emergency and surgery doctor. being a rookie, all the night shifts on weekends were yours. at the end of that shift, it will be 36 hours since you haven't entered your house and you would still have to do the day shift before you go.
Looking around you saw how empty the emergency room was. two people arrived earlier, a teenager with an alcoholic coma and a child with rotavirus. two classics.
"Well, I think I'll accept this proposal and I'll take a nap. Call me as soon as someone walks through that door" you said getting up.
"Sure thing," they said.
Jeremy propped his feet up on the counter and grabbed his cell phone to watch something and Lauren rolled her eyes sitting next to him and opening her book.
You've decided to get the patient's parameters before going to bed. Make sure they were stable.
both of them seemed fine, while you wrote down the parameters in your tablet's system the doors to the emergency center opened
"I need some bloody fucking help here!" a man with a mustache and a strong accent yelled.
You left your tablet on an empty bed and ran outside. Jeremy ran after you pushing a stretcher.
Outside you came face to face with a black BMW X3 and inside it, in the back seat, a man was unconscious. You got partially into the car trying to have the best access to analyze the man
"What happened?" you asked one of the two men who were with him.
"Just bloody fix him, alright?" the other man spoke nervously
from the quick analysis, you assumed he had taken a beating, but you didn't know the extent of the damage. on the stethoscope, the lung and heart appeared clean and functioning normally. His heart rate was a little faster than normal, perhaps because of the bleeding
"Hey, can you hear me?" you asked the man in an attempt to get attention, trying to gauge where he was on the Glasglow coma scale.
With your flashlight, you quickly assessed his neurological status and noticed that the pupils were not reactive. He was a 3, with no eye response, no motor response, and no verbal response.
"Okay, let's get him inside and straight to CT," you said getting out of the car and hanging your stethoscope around your neck again. Jeremy moved to put him on the stretcher "the pupils are not responsive. lungs clear. heart beating fast, but it could be due to the bleeding" you were talking to Lauren, who had the tablet in her hand filling out his form "what is your name?" you asked the two men.
"Arthur, this is John," the man who came through the door shouting said "that's our brother Tommy" you nodded.
"I need you to pass your social data to her," you said indicating to Lauren, and walked into the hospital, Jeremy already in front of you.
In CT you saw intense bleeding caused by trauma, causing compression of the third cranial nerve and the upper brain stem. hence the pupils and the loss of consciousness. Now you were worried, the bleeding was extensive and looked bad.
"Ok, we need to act fast. Prep an OR. We don't know how long he's been like this" you said leaving the cabin and going to get ready for surgery.
you are not a neurosurgeon, but intracranial pressure reduction is a simple procedure and necessary until a real evaluation by the neurologist.
The surgery went well. the blood inside the skull was drained, relieving the pressure and you directed him to the ICU, for better follow-up.
After him, cases didn't stop coming in and you didn't stop for a minute.
you looked at the clock on your wrist as you bandaged a man who had been stabbed in the arm, you were glad that it was already eight o'clock and the number of staff was returning to normal so you could take thirty minutes just to lie down and put your legs up.
"We survived another apocalypse," Jeremy said stopping beside you and you smiled
"yeah, lucky us," you said tiredly
"Weeell, good luck in here. I'm going home to my husband!" he said
"thank you, I've never been so jealous of you," you said jokingly and he walked away with a huge smile.
The residents arrived and you gave them the night's cases. you encouraged them to think logically and critically. dividing them into groups so that each one stayed with a patient, studying the case and what could have been done differently while new cases did not emerge.
Few residents were interested in trauma, and they gradually dispersed to other areas throughout the day, but when they arrived they always looked for trauma because it was the only busy place in the hospital.
Two residents stuck with you all day, shadowing you. Their names are Davi and Megan. Both are desperate for knowledge.
"I have a special case for you," you said handing the tablet to them "A beaten man arrives without much information about what happened. What do you do?" you asked, as you walked down the hall
"the Glasgow thing," Davi said and you smiled and nodded
"Score 3 on the Glasgow thing," you said imitating him
"Shit... hm" he stopped thoughtfully "how long was he unconscious?"
"Don't know, he arrived unconscious" you replied "his brothers did not give much information"
"CT scan or X-ray" Megan added and he nodded supporting her answer
"Good. You see extensive intracranial bleeding" you said
"Surgery," the two said together and you nodded opening the door in front of you
"Look who's awake," you said smiling.
The blacked out man from the night before was now looking and talking to his brothers who were sitting on the small sofa next to the bed.
"How are you feeling?" You asked, standing at the foot of his bed while Megan and David prowled around him and examined him.
"Well... better than I look" he replied looking strangely at his residents.
"They're just checking your parameters" you explained
"Can I smoke?" he asked
"No you can't. Not here" you replied
"Can he drink?" one of the brothers asked
"John, right?" he nodded "no, he can't" you replied
"You just as good as dead, brother," Arthur said and you frowned.
Megan handed over the tablet to you with all the information. everything was normal.
"Do you have any questions?" you asked your residents
"When can I get out of here?" Thomas asked
"When will he get out?" you asked the two next to you
"Depends on your response to post-surgery," Davi said sounding a little unsure, and you nodded "could be in a day or two, or a week"
"I'll stay a day," he said
"hm, we recomment you follow our order and stay for as long as it’s necessary, but you do have your choices" you exhaled "ok, so... No questions to the patient kids?" they were silent, which you thought was strange, but you continued "did you feel any dizziness, shortness of breath, or sudden tiredness?" he shook his head "nausea?" same response "did you try to stand up?" he denied again "good, don't try yet. pee in the potty" you took the potty and put it on the bed "Need anything you press the button. If you feel anything different, press the button. Okay?" he nodded and you left the room
"Is that really Thomas Shelby?" Davi asked, surprising you
"Who?" you asked confused
"You don't know him?" Megan asked "working-class man, now one of the richest around? been on the media before being suspected of multiple crimes" she said as she was telling you a dirty secret
"Shit. You serious?" you asked and she nodded "well, we have to treat everyone the same. despite, all that... we made a vow, right?" they nodded
"I won't go in there alone," Davi said and you smiled "he scares the shit out of me"
"But he's hot," Megan said and you rolled your eyes
"Why don't you guys go scrub in some surgery, hm? we are done here" you said and they walked away.
Lying on the bed in the staff room, you felt exhausted. 
Picking up your cell phone you did what anyone would do, googled Thomas Shelby. being surprised and intrigued by what you saw.
--/--
After sleeping for a few hours, you went on with your rounds. Lunch was being served and as you passed by Shelby's room you noticed the food was still outside.
"Why is this here?" you asked the nurse passing by
"No one wants to get in there. He's rude," she answered honestly and walked away.
You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath. picking up the platter with the food and walking into the room. He was alone now and his eyes opened when you walked in.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," you said
"Wasn't sleeping" he replied
"Good, here is some delicious food for you. Try not to puke" you said putting it in front of him and he smiled
"Looks good," he said "why are you bringing me this? Don't you have nurses for this?"
"We do, but people don't seem to want to get in here. For some reason you scare them" you said, looking at the monitor.
"But not you?" he asked
"Well, I just opened your head. What color was your urine?" you asked and he smiled
"Yellow?" he replied uncomfortably
"Too yellow?" you asked enjoying seeing him cringe
"I guess" he replied
"Was it a lot to urine or a little?"
"Normal...?"
"Poop?"
"No" he replied embarrassed taking the food in front of him
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" you joked and he didn't answer "Good" you smiled "The neurologist was here earlier to test you right?"
"he was" he replied "Am I in trouble?"
"No, all looks good. We acted fast so you won’t have any long lasting symptoms. Maybe you will feel some signs of a light concussion for a few days" you replied "no nausea right?"
"No, I feel good. ready for another one" he said
"Yeah...don't," you said and he smiled
"Hey, can you take me outside for a smoke?" he asked
"You shouldn't smoke, but yes I can. Let me just grab the wheelchair" you said leaving the room.
When you came back he had only eaten the jello and the apple
"Not hungry?" you asked stopping with the chair next to him
"Chicken is disgusting," he said and you smiled
"Okay, let's go?"
He nodded and you helped him up. as he stood up his body softened and he looked like he was going to faint, but he leaned on the bed and with your help he sat down in the chair. You took your flashlight and looked into his eyes, both reacted normally.
"What are you feeling?" you asked crouching in front of him
"The things you’ve been insisting on. Nausea and dizziness" he replied and took a deep breath "fuck" he muttered as he rubbed his face
You got some water and a sickness pill and handed it to him. When he said he was better you pushed him out of the room and into the area outside the hospital.
The hospital had a very pleasant green area for patients and visitors. You sat on a concrete bench in front of him and took a deep breath enjoying the outside air as he lit his cigarette.
"Aren't you supposed to be doing what doctors do?" he asked and you smiled
"Well, my pager has been quiet. I think they're taking it easy on me today since its my fourth shift in a row" you replied "and if you were nicer to the nurses they would have brought you here sooner"
"If I was nicer to people I would be here more often" he replied
"Maybe, maybe not... who knows" you shrugged
"You're new here aren't you?" he asked and you nodded "yeah...last time I was here a hairy man took care of me" you laughed
"Well I don't know any hairy man," you said amused
"yeah... He was fired," he said
"Why?" you asked confused
"He... I don't know" he said as if he had changed his mind mid-sentence.
"You do, you just don't want to tell me," you said and he shook his head "ok..." Your pager beeped and you looked at it "oh no. I have to go" looking around you took the first nurse that passed in front of you "he won't do you any harm, just take him to his room when he's done" you said taking her to him "be nice" you warned him and ran away
--/--
As your final act, you only had to pass the shift to the next doctor, telling him about the new patients and everything that had happened. Once that was done you changed into your normal clothes.
Walking out of the hospital you passed in front of Thomas' room and saw that there was a man inside with him. Looking at your watch, it was almost eight and visiting hours were over.
Opening the door you entered "ey, Visiting hours are over. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave"
"Who the fuck are you?" the man standing asked rudely
"I'm his doctor," you said not liking the man’s tone
"It's ok, y/n. Just go" Thomas said but you frowned
"The hospital have rules. You can come see him in the morning. If you don't leave now I'll call security," you said and the man laughed
"Don't bother" he said and left the room staring at you as he walked through the door
"Shouldn't have done that" Thomas said
"It's my job. You can't have people here after visiting hours for a reason" you said
"He is not my visitor," he said
"What is he then?" you asked and he looked at the window ignoring your question "fine. just don't do it again" you turned to leave
"Does your house have security?" he asked
"what?" you asked confused looking at him
"That man did this" he pointed at himself "Do your house have security?" he asked and you frowned
"I guess" you replied and he smirked
"You guess?" he asked "My brothers are outside. Ask them to drive you to your home and tell them to check it"
"Is it necessary?" you asked nervously
"Look at me and tell me what you think" he said
"But I did nothing!" you spoke
"Maybe...better safe than sorrow right?" he said and you looked confused at him "just do it"
You left the hospital, deciding to ignore the Shelby request. You did nothing wrong. You had no relation with them. There was no reason for you to be afraid.
To your surprise, Arthur was waiting for you by your car. he smiled as you approached.
"Thomas called," he said, "should we go in our car or yours?"
"How do you know that's my car?" You asked
"It's easy to find out anything about people these days," he said "if you want we can meet you at your house?"
"Do you know where I live?" you asked worried and he nodded "I don't like this. How can I be sure that at the moment I get inside my car you won't kill me?" he laughed
"Listen ey, our brother is worried you will pay for something you had nothing to do with. you just got in the middle of a big dog's fight" he said "he doesn't want you dead, you saved him" you continued in silence, thinking "we will just go there and see if there are cameras and things in your apartment. If you say no we will go anyways... we will only have more trouble getting in"
"Ok," you said feeling without much option "I'll go in my car and you will go in yours"
"Sounds good," he said and walked away
In your apartment building, you let him in. he walked around and broke into the security room
"I'll get evicted after this," you said and he laughed
"No you won't" he replied "Cameras are working," he said after being inside for a few minutes "you should be fine"
"Thanks?" you said "can I ask why? What did I do?"
"Well you saved his life and you told the man who tried to take it that you saved his life... Did you also threaten him with security? how cute" He said
"That doesn't soud so bad" you spoke
"Yeah… but like I said you got in the middle of a big dog fight. Things are heated up right now. Anything can become a motive" he said, and said goodbye to you.
He left and you went up to your apartment, feeling very confused. Could it be the lack of sleep making you hallucinate? before you could take a shower you were sleeping.
386 notes · View notes
softsfern · 4 months
Text
i'm so desperate to write this problematic professor!nanami fic but i won't have time until the new year probably (also bc i have another half finished nanami fic that's just been sitting in my drafts collecting dust)
like i saw the 1997 lolita movie with jeremy irons and unfortunately the hazy aestheticism got to me
anyways, get your best rose-colored delulu glasses on and let's play rough with the dollies in the sandbox shall we
reader is a passionate, driven literature student at a prestigious historic university (it's got stained glass windows and ivy-covered brick because i missed that in my undergrad experience ok)
nanami shows interest in their academic writing, and invites them to office hours. reader accepts bc they need letters of rec for grad school and also bc who wouldn't take critique for their personal creative writing from peer reviewed scholar for free? they become a regular fixture in prof! nanami's office hours and the conversation often wanders past academic subjects into personal sharing
nanami invites reader to a classy dinner date, bc he's a classy man. reader declines bc they believe in appropriate prof/student relations (you go girl!) and also bc they believe in standing on their own academic merit
nanami repeatedly reassures reader that their personal relationship would never influence his academic integrity. which is true, but reader still feels like it's shady. they make a deal. at the end of the fall semester, when reader is no longer in nanami's class, they'll go out to one (1) dinner w him.
and then one dinner turns into several dinners. and several scandalous dalliances in his office. and also nanami gets reader into the super competitive graduate program in his department, so they can stay together after reader graduates undergrad.
and then they end up dating through this beautiful idyllic summer. they even road trip to an academic conference, and it's gorgeous and sweet and they bone a Ton because if you had the chance, wouldn't you?
fall semester, there's a social function for the department and new grad students. reader and nanami go separately bc their relationship is secret. importantly, this is at reader's insistence. BUT bc their relationship is so secret, another faculty member casually mentions nanamis WIFE AND MOTHERFUCKING KID and the floor drops from beneath reader's feet
they leave the function suddenly and nanami just KNOWS the jig is up
but they keep dating bc like, poor reader is soooo in love and nanami promises that he's separated from his wife (he's just staying for his kid). i want to make it clear that nanami is genuinely in love w reader, like for real. so the months go by and reader keeps dating and fucking nanami, but grows more and more bitter by the day.
he's making concessions and bringing flowers and generally doing what he can to appease reader. but they're approaching their mid-twenties and that cerebral cortex is wrapping up development which means: reader realizes they deserve better!!
so it's christmas time, and the prof and the student meet up in front of the campus christmas tree (realism? idk her i only know my mentally ill fantasy!!!!!!!!!) and reader coldly breaks things off. they tell him, almost robotically, that they're going to switch advisors and move departments to a program that's a better fit.
nanami's like, nooooo pwease babygirl i'll divorce my wife don't leave meeee you're a monster to leave me like this
and reader's like, stay w that lovely woman. that's your punishment bc you pursued me. you made me a monster, hid me in the shadows and bred me into the beast i am. i'm biting the hand, you're lucky i didn't go for your throat.
anyways yeah that's soooo hot to me like please professor nanami,,, have problematic sexual relations with me during office hours!! bury your guilt inside me, water it into resentment so bitter that it poisons my art and my mind!! make me wicked and shrewd, make me yours!! put that picture of your perfect family face down while you fuck me ass up!!
22 notes · View notes