#Doesn't mean that you need to try to ruin it for everyone else
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Burnt out players that just need to take a break from a game:"This year, I lost my dear favorite game!"
Game that is alive and well, and so is the fandom:"STOP TELLING EVERYBODY I'M DEAD!"
Burnt out players:"Sometimes I CAN STILL HEAR IT'S VOICE!"
#feykrorovaan#video games#Seriously some of you get burnt out and take to the Internet blaming the game when it didn't do anything to you#Remember to take breaks#Burnout is real#Calm yourselves#The game isn't dead you're just burntout#“I'm burntout time to get the pitchforks.”#Go outside#Touch some grass#Too much of a good thing can be bad for you so take breaks#Just because you're burntout on something which you did completely on your own grinding#Doesn't mean that you need to try to ruin it for everyone else#It's toxic behavior#Calm thyself#Go take your vitamins and drink some water get some sun...
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HII
Could you do some hcs of alastor with wife!reader who ABSO(LUTE)LY adores dogs? (alastor hates the dog with his entire life)
I mean...he kinda has a good reason not to be a dog person...
😡
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Alastor Vs Doggo 🐶 Cannibalism, Vox getting owned by dog
Description: ☝️⬆️
Look, Alastor loves you deeply and would do anything for you, absolutely anything
Except let you have a dog
Absolutely not, he won't have a dog running around in his hotel and creating problems
He can already see it
The dog using the hotel as it's personal bathroom, gnawing on his hooves and ruining all the furniture
Humping everything in sight!!
You can have anything else, you can have Niffty! She makes a good pet don't you think?
No
How about Husk? He's basically a cat
"Fuck you!"
You want a dog, you even have one picked out already
You what? When did you even have time to go look at dogs? He's been purposefully keeping you busy anytime you mention one
The bite marks all over your body are evidence of it
Totally doesn't believe you're actually bringing home a dog until you do, then he's spitting out his tea
"Y/N, darling, what is that?"
"A smoothie."
"You know what I mean."
"Oh this? Our new dog, isn't he cute?"
You can't have a dog in the hotel-
Charlie and everyone else already agreed to it, even Husk said yes just to piss off Alastor
So everyone is on your side and you'll have adequate help, Alastor won't hardly ever even notice the dog
Except he does notice the dog, like all the time
The damned beast is always trying to hop up next to him, only to be shoved off by Alastor
"No furry beasts on the furniture~ The hair is a nightmare to clean up. Disgusting really..."
Not Husk and Angel giving him dirty looks for that one
After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to sit next to him, it simply settles for resting by his feet
At least it makes a decent footrest
Or the dog is always hogging your attention, sitting in your lap, laying with you in bed, following you around
How is a man supposed to sleep with his wife when there's some mutt in his spot???
You've caught Alastor glaring at your dog a few times, especially when you're giving him scratches and pets
He wants to be the one to hog your lap and be pampered by you, maybe you could even try giving him a belly rub or two
It certainly looks appealing
Alastor at least thinks he can get time alone with you outside of the hotel but nope, you insist on taking the dog with you
"He needs the fresh air and exercise, Alastor!"
But your husband needs some alone time with you! He's not being dramatic!
Or he's trying to enjoy his breakfast?? Guess who's paws are on the table, begging and slobbering over the idea of a bite
"Absolutely not, you can just forget abou-HEY!"
Looks like his breakfast now belongs to the dog
You definitely make him another breakfast and apologize over and over again
Kiss him and sit in his lap, then maybe he'll consider forgiving you~
Sometimes, when you're sleeping, Alastor and the dog will be locked into a staring match
"I don't like you."
Whine
Rosie tries to sell him on the idea of just maybe liking this one dog, even she's taken a liking to him apparently
Traitor
You make Alastor promise that he won't ever get rid of the dog, OR EAT HIM, OR HURT HIM
And he can't break a promise he made to his darling wife
But he hates this fucking dog with a passion so when the dog suddenly gets out one day? He's perfectly content to let him run off
Until he realizes how upset you would be that your beloved pooch is gone and that gives him pause
Fffffffffuck
Not him spending all day trying to find a dog he doesn't even like, asking everyone if they've seen him
Nope, no, sorry no, ect
Just when Alastor has just about given up and started to contemplate trying to replace the mutt, he hears a familiar yell
"IS THIS DOG FUCKING PISSING ON ME!?"
Vox
Following the sound, Alastor is greeted with the sight of your dog running circles around Vox, who's standing in a puddle with wet pants
For some reason, the delightful mutt has taken to terrorizing him, biting at his limbs only to jump just out of reach of Vox's claws
Maybe it's something he's picked up from Alastor, you certainly didn't teach the dog that
The sight is too funny for Alastor, who doesn't even try to stop the dog, only laughing maniacally
Maybe this mutt isn't so bad
Later, when he comes home with the dog, you notice they seem much fonder of each other
Alastor goes and picks him out a fancy new leash, he starts giving him table scraps and he even invites the dog to be his footrest
Quit putting your feet on my dog
Stop giving the dog fingers!!
You catch him giving the pup a few scratches here and there, almost in an absent-minded manner
He starts calling the dog by his name instead of calling him beast, mutt, hound, monstrosity, ect
He even gives the dog his own room at the hotel with his own fluffy doggy bed
Okay, that last part might just be him wanting his marital bed back
We love dogs in this house!!
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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I've seen a fair number of posts both here and on reddit that question why Tav (or the Dark Urge) would end up as a group leader for any other reason that "game mechanics say so." There's the requisite "okay, well if you play a high charisma character I guess it makes sense," or on the other end of the spectrum, "if you're playing Durge and murder someone right off the bat everyone would be too scared to tell you no." And I get where people are going with this! I really do. But it also fundamentally misunderstands a facet of human nature, which is that the vast majority of people do not actually want to be in charge, because that means being held responsible for the outcome. Accordingly, most people will dither when a group consensus is needed: have none of you ever tried to get a group of friends to agree where to go for dinner? Yeah, it's like that, but waaaay worse.
A lot of times "leadership" is just the willingness to say, "fuck it, y'all do what you want, but I'm doing this." I see it all the time in a corporate environment, where people will go back and forth on group meetings without anyone making a decision until finally one brave soul goes "in my opinion the clear answer is x" and then everyone gratefully goes along with it. Because now it's not their responsibility when something goes wrong! They're just following along with someone else's suggestion, and maybe it works or maybe it doesn't, but at the end of the day they don't have to worry about the consequences unless they're personally affected. In which case they might step up and argue back, and then they're stuck being a leader, too. Welcome to adulthood!
Lae'zel is the only one who ever even tries to exert some kind of control, when she tells you to follow her lead on the ship, or calls you her subordinate in the Grove. But, crucially, she doesn't ever make any serious attempt to take control: you can just tell her, "lol, no," and she sort of confusedly gives way, because she doesn't know how to handle this scenario. In her world there are commanders and subordinates, and everyone knows where they stand and falls in line. She's never actually had to take control of a situation and so at the first sign of resistance she falls back on the dynamic that's familiar to her, which is executing the commands of someone older and more experienced. She goes through a lot of growth over the game, to the point that she can take over as a resistance leader in her own right by the end, but at the beginning she's a wet-behind-her-ears private with some decent combat chops and it shows.
Otherwise, your party consists of:
Shadowheart, who's trained in infiltration and assassination and does NOT want a lot of attention brought to her or her mission for a variety of reasons;
Astarion, who has literally been a slave for two centuries and canonically takes a while to realize that he can exert an opinion beyond complaining about it;
Gale, whose only friend is his cat and couldn't project-manage his way out of a wet paper bag;
Wyll, who was probably trained for command at one point but has been doing the lone-hero thing for a decade and has a very large secret that he's trying to conceal; and,
Karlach, who's only ever been a bodyguard and a soldier and is genuinely just happy to be here.
Honestly, it would be more a surprise if Tav/Durge didn't end up as their unofficial leader, given the general power dynamics at play. The first time Tav/Durge says something like, "fuck it, we need to do something instead of stand around arguing about it, let's go check out those ruins over there," it's a done deal. They're The Captain Now! As long as they don't make decisions that fundamentally oppose something dear and important to the other group members, they're not even going to get any argument. Because at the end of the day, not one of these walking disasters has enough trust in themselves and their decision-making skills to feel any kind of certainty that they can choose the right path forward. If someone else is going to take that decision out of their hands? They're going to follow, no questions asked, right up until the moment they can't.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#meta#some of you people have never suffered through group projects and it shows
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I've had a realisation,
So, we all like to dunk on Akechi for having a stupid plan- which, well, yeah; but I think that a lot of people (whether they like Akechi's character or not) tend to miss the point:
That being, that the holes we all poke in his plan; "Why didn't he just kill Shido at the start?" "There's no way he'd live/be free after that," "His plan to ruin Shido's reputation would never work," are actually far more revealing as to Akechi's priorities, than they are of him just being 'stupid'.
For starters, "there's no way he'd live/be free after that." -as a fandom I think we've all already come to the conclusion that Akechi's regard for his own life is spotty at best. I wouldn't necessarily say that he wants to die by the time of the third semester, which really just adds to the tragedy of the whole situation, but I digress. Point is, the kid needs therapy, moving on.
"His plan to ruin Shido's reputation would never work," Ah, now this is where I think some cultural differences start to come in to play- I won't say much, since I'm relatively uninformed, but by the sounds of it, revealing that Shido has an illegitemate child is actually the kind of thing that would make a lot of people raise their eyebrows. And, more importantly, the kind of thing that would really throw his "easy election win" into some serious jeapordy. (AND, it's never exactly stated that "revealing himself as an illegitemate child" was Akechi's tactic to ruin Shido- more of a "hey, Shido, guess who it was that ruined you, you piece of shit?"- which, well, more on that mindset later)
Next, "Why didn't he just kill Shido from the start?" This is where I think a lot of people get tripped up. To my memory, there is not a single point in the engine room where Akechi says that killing Shido is the cornerstone of his plan (localisation differences notwithstanding. I'm sure someone will come yell at me (/lh) if this is the case). Now, to be fair, Akechi in the engine room is really just him giving a very desperate powerpoint while he sharpens his sword- so I don't doubt that he's skimming over a couple points. But, you'd think that Akechi would remember to mention that if that really was his main goal.
Okay, so Akechi doesn't want to kill Shido. Cool, follow-up question, "Why didn't he just give Shido a pshychotic breakdown from the start?" That's the kind of thing that would have ruined Shido's reputation, too, right? And, it would have been before he would have had the means to try and cover it up. Well, finally, I can get to my point:
Akechi needs Shido's disgrace to be loud, because he needs everyone else to care, too. Akechi's revenge isnt just against the man who left him and his mother for dead, but also against the society that continued to leave him for dead, again and again; the society that only lauded him as something special if he slapped some pretty wallpaper over the past he had absolutely no control over.
Looking at it like this does a lot of things:
First, it really amps up the whole "the PT's justice and Akechi's justice foil each other". Akechi's revenge is also a vehichle for revolution, since it is, in essence: "Look! Look at the man who you lauded as a saviour! Look at me, the man who brought him down. Aren't we both disgusting, in your eyes? Take a look at yourselves. Aren't we all the same?"
That leads pretty nicely into Akechi as a pawn for Yaldabaoth, too. Akechi wants to make sure he and Shido go out with a bang, and leave a shitshow in their wake. That's prime God of Control real estate! It's also prime "metaphor for Ruin" real estate; you get the point.
And, finally, an interesting point comes from all of this. That being, that, well- the only reason that Akechi's plan wasn't going to work, is that he placed too much stock in the idea that Shido has any concept of loyalty or gratitude. Shido, as we all know, is an absolute piece of shit- and still, Akechi had believed that maybe, just maybe, his father would feel bad for being terrible to his son.
(I'm not going to go on too big of a tangent, but that is an interesting insight into Akechi's idea of Justice, and into what his personas might represent. Contradiction, as ever, is the name of the game, and Akechi simultaneously believes that there's no way to get anywhere in life without force and violence, and that there is also a fundemantal truth of what is good and fair within human hearts)
The message of this, I'm pretty sure, is not: "Akechi failed because of that lingering belief in humanity" (wouldn't that be one hell of a heel-turn lmao), but rather: "Akechi, with his distorted (ha) priorities, was never going to be happy in any quest for vengeance, even if his plan succeeded entirely"
tl;dr, Akechi needs therapy. Wait- Maruki, no! Not that kind of therapy!
#persona 5#goro akechi#I'm sure someone has made a similar analysis of this before#but all my thoughts about p5 have for the most part just been me talking to myself- so I wanted to get this one down in writing lmao
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JEALOUS SAE HEADCANONS PLEASEEEEE
Jealous hc
Characters: sae, rin, kaiser, hiori, karasu, shidou
m.list | rules
Note: hiiii how are youuu thank you for your request hihi I had other characters bc I felt like doing it for them too
Sae Itoshi
he’s too prideful to be jealous, or he thinks so
in fact he get pissed off easily, anyone being a little to friendly with you bother him and he already doesn’t like anyone so imagine
he’s not subtile, even if he thinks he is
he’ll get closer, talk like shit to the person who’s flirting with you in his eyes
roll his eyes, click his tongue, you name it
Suddenly he wants to go home or leave for another place
You never honestly never thought you'll see him like that since he's confident and trusts you
I think he just doesn't like people and so by extension he hates people talking to you
He likes to think he's the only one who can make you smile like that, beside your friends (he's not insane)
So seeing some nobody making you smile, or even worst : laugh makes him jealous
He’s not into pda to save his life i think, that’s something he keeps behind closed doors
But oh man how he likes to kiss you when it happens, just to remind everyone that you're taken and you're proud of it
Be prepared to hear about this, he’s a nagging mom at heart
“Are you done ?” you’d ask and magically, yes he is
he will sulk yes, but close to you at least
Rin Itoshi
Bare with him, he acts tough but deep down he wants to cry
Just like his brother, he will get closer, his arm will probably stay around your shoulders after that
But he won’t be mean to them, just kinda ignore them or send death glare if they get too close
No touching, even in a friendly way, don’t be ridiculous
I think he appreciates it if you put a stop yourself
He’s more insecure than he likes to admit and it prove him that he can trust you
He’s gonna be clingy af though
When you two are finally alone, Rin won’t say a world but glue himself to you
He’ll need reassurance for sure :( this boy has abandon issues
Michael Kaiser
He’s an asshole (lovingly)
He let people flirt with you if it helps their ego and mock them for how long you can think, it’s almost an inside joke for him
The irony is that he’s really possessive, so it’s all fun and game until it’s not some loser that try to hit on you
Not that he feels threaten, please
But he still don’t wanna play with them and he doesn’t want you nearby
If you just happen to be friendly with someone then he’s bothered
What do you mean by being this happy to see someone else ?
He’ll ask a million questions and whine about it before brush it off as if he doesn’t care
It takes a lot to deal with him, his reaction depend on his phase
If he feels low then he’ll be a nightmare, you had to be sorry for someone hitting on you and tell him he’s your one and only
If he’s his confident self, it’s almost like he doesn’t care and let it happen
Being with him is a roller coaster
Tabito Karasu
Best man if is speak
He’s mature and he knows he’s projecting his own insecurity when he’s jealous, so he doesn’t make a big deal about it
He’s not gonna ruin the moment so he just keep his cool and act normally
Deep down you can feel there’s some awkwardness so you try to ask him silently, with your eyes or smile, if he’s ok
He loves you so much he feels dumb to even be jealous the second you do that honestly
Expect small pda like holding hands above your knees, playing with your fingers or the em of your shirt/ skirt
He’ll talk to you about it on your way back home or when you two are comfortable at yours or his place
He knows it’s normal to feel like this sometimes but it’s normal to reach for comfort right ? he’s not shy to ask
Nothings best than you playing with his hair, laying on your chest or thighs
Ryusei Shidou
He’s unhinged he scares me
I think he’s the most jealous among them
You’re his, that’s it so, he may seem lay back (and weird) but he’s cautious with every person coming near you
I hc him with abandon issues as well (give us his back story please and make it worth it compare to some character) so he’s always scared of you leaving
It’s still more in a possessive than an insecure way, he just can’t take it if he considered that someone is too close to you
He gets touchy oh my, he’s all over you, can’t keep his hands to himself just to let them know that you’re taken
He’ll talk to them straight in the eyes while his hand run up and down your thighs, he’s not ashamed of anything
You have to put a stop to it but always expected something more while coming home
Yo Hiori
He’s cute and I don’t think people take him seriously enough
You’re amazing and beautiful and fun to talk to, people already asked you why him
He kinda has war flashback ngl
Obviously he also think that he’s not enough and probably get jealous/sad quickly if someone get close to you and is really friendly
He’s scared to take things into hand I think, so he’ll just ask for you two to leave
He won’t tell you how he feels, he’s sure it’s not important enough to bring it up but you always ask him anyway
You’re so sorry that it happens at all honestly, you never want him to feel like this
He never ask for it but you’re clingy and want to do nothing with him, spending some quality time together, watching him play game while you stay on your phone or even sitting in his laps
It always make him feel better and remind him that you won’t leave him so soon
I hope you liked it ♡
#blue lock x reader#blue lock headcanons#bllk hcs#bllk headcanons#bllk x reader#sae itoshi x reader#sae x reader#sae headcanons#rin itoshi x reader#rin headcanons#rin hcs#shidou x reader#shidou headcanons#hiori x reader#hiori yo#hiori headcanons#karasu tabito x reader#karasu x reader#karasu hcs#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser#kaiser hcs#blue lock#x reader
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Danny is so, oh so very tired about the amount of marriage proposals that popped up in front of him. Not even a day past his announcement as Crown prince either.
He's thankful that neither of his four parents are pushing him towards accepting it, but it's everyone (besides his friends of course) else who either try and subtly suggest it or outright asks him if he's chosen a spouse yet.
He's only 14! He doesn't need a spouse! And they were probably far older than him too!
Even Vlad of all people took some kind of pity on him and just decided to be a normal (for a billionaire) guy who isn't trying to kill his dad.
...However, that doesn't mean he wants him to seduce him either!
(Danny: Stop trying to seduce my dad you low-budget vampire!
Vlad, calmly sipping tea: No.)
If he wasn't majorly burnt out from the number of proposals he has to sort through, he would most definitely throw him far across town, away from his dad and mom.
He needed to find a way to stop all of these letters that just keep coming, and fast. He doesn't know how much longer he could take of reading fancy script over and over and over again, his eyes already hurt enough.
He tried to ask his Father for help, his only response was to choose a consort that he saw fit to stand alongside him. Then he had to flee before he gushed about his pops.
He asked his pops, who only said that the answer would come to him in time. Which was of no help whatsoever.
He asked his mom, she at least tried to help somewhat. Giving him some equipment to ward off any ghost who would try and forcibly take him as a consort, which had a low chance of happening considering his strength, but he was happy about it regardless.
He then finally asked his dad, after making sure that vampiric leech isn't near any of his human parents. Surprisingly, he had a pretty good idea of what to do.
He was a halfa, wasn't he? Why limit himself to just ghosts? Surely, due to his half-human status he could choose someone near his age among humanity.
Well, not in those exact words, but it was a great idea regardless! Plus, they never did specify if he had to choose a ghost consort anyways.
Now he just had to decide who to pick, really. His two best friends are out of the option, they're close, but not in that sort of way. Plus, Sam is busy with Undergrowth and Tucker bonding with Technus who was apparently apart of his family tree somewhere along the line.
Then, when he was sorting through the letters and was sure his eyes were about to bleed from reading so many fancy words, he felt it. A tug in his chest, gently urging him somewhere, and you know what, it's way better than what he was doing now, so he answered.
He felt the clothes he was swearing in that moment fade into away into the outfit he wore for his coronation. A suit, a crown made of the coldest ice from the Far Frozen, a cape made from the stars along with various little knickknacks made from various gems and a veil hung over his face.
He looked pretty good, if he says so himself. Though he didn't and still doesn't know the purpose of the veil.
He appeared in what looked like an event for a high society party, most likely filled with various rich people. He floated up and quickly looked over the people and released a sigh of relief that Vlad wasn't here, say what you will, but he doesn't fancy meeting with someone who's actively trying to seduce his dad.
He folded his arms behind his back, trying to imitate the imposing figure of his father from his place in the air, looking down at the cultists(?) below who summoned him.
"Who dares summon me." He stated, rule number one, statements hold power, questions do not. The cultist below fell to his knees, either out of devotion or fear, he didn't know.
"Oh, Prince of the infinite, we called you today for the sole purpose of serving this world to one of your standing, please let us be your servants and spare us when you plunge the world into ruin!" Ah, devotion, then. His eyes bore into the woman (from the sound of her voice) below, his silence working well to unnerve her and the other guests.
"Hm." The reward was already stated, but he neither wants too nor will take over the world. "Denied." It was short, swift, and to the point in his books, he thinks he's doing well acting out Pariah Dark!
"B-but my liege, the king-"
"What the king has been known for in the past, has nothing to do with me. You dare to assume something about me, lowly human." The human below him was actually fully blown shivering, now, slamming her head down onto the floor and shouting out a number of apologies.
Rule number two, do not take back requests you have already denied.
Ok, now he feels bad, that probably hurt a lot. But he's already come this far so-
"Is that the only reason you have called me, or do you require something else. Much of my time is not something you can afford." The woman was most undoubtedly about to say something, probably more apologies, or maybe something else, but the sounds of fighting reached the room and the doors slammed opened, the body of a cultist(?) flying through the air and the appearance of what were most likely heroes.
"Well?" He let that question slide, the cold around the room descending around the woman below as a bunch of other cultists tried to fight off the heroes.
The woman seemed hysterical with worry, most likely not wanting to go to jail, perhaps. She quickly took her head off the floor and tried to stand up, almost falling back to the ground but managing to find her footing. "M-my liege, please help us!"
He tilted his head. "And as to what, would you give me?"
"The sacrifice, yes! The sacrifice!" The woman quickly pointed below him, and only then, did Danny realize there was a boy bound below him, only to be met with a glare.
Danny hummed. Yes. That will do. "It shall be done."
Danny waved his hand, ice sprouting from the ground to force the heroes and cultists apart and then blasting a hole through the nearby wall and to the outside, a path of ice leading down to the ground. "Go." He commanded, the woman nodding her head quickly and calling to the others and disappearing outside, he then blocked off the hole with ice.
He then slowly floated downwards, besides the bound human, ignoring the shattering of ice and footfalls of no doubt the heroes trying to stop him from what he was doing. He leaned over the boy- about his age- and asked one question.
"Do you wish to become my consort?"
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#oopsie#Ended up writing lol#Anwyays#damian wayne#ghost prince danny#damian wayne x danny fenton#He's the guy bound up by the cultists lol#Danny needed to find a consort to not have to deal with marriage proposals anymore#He's sure nothing would really come out of this#Surely after this he could just claim the boy as his consort- if he says yes- and they could just go about their seperate ways#pariah dark#dp clockwork#dp dark ages#dark ages#darkages#Danny has 4 parents and then one vampiric leech trying to worm his way in lol
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bestfriend!roommate!simon leaves on an assignment, but he needs your help first. (18+)
more bff!roommate!simon (part 9/?)
cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon has thicc thighs, lap sitting, fem+m!receiving touching, thigh riding because i cant resist, soft!dom!simon, praise kink, size kink (reader described to be moved/handled easily by him), the mask doesn't come off, simon is a cocky bastard, a lotta angst
"simon, if you keep moving, i won't be able to finish, quit squirming."
"sorry, luv--afraid you'll prick me with that bloody thing."
you stuck your tongue out at him for a moment before setting back against his thighs. you sat so nicely there, your ass perched on the thick muscle as you worked. you had your tongue between your teeth as you concentrated.
your fingers held a thick needle, weaving it through the fabric of simon's balaclava and the plastic skull plate. he had ruined another piece; he had come home after his last deployment with the skull plate in pieces. he did not explain what had happened to it; you only tried to ignore the streaks of red along the face of it when you watched him throw it away.
you saw him sitting on the couch, trying to sew it together, but his big fingers made it a little difficult; you sweetly asked if you could help. a big plus--you got to sit in simon's lap and bask in the heat of him.
you adjusted, moving around until you were straddling his wide hips. you had to spread your own to accommodate his size, sitting up high to be able to reach the top of his head, weaving the thread through to tie the plastic to the fabric.
"bloody tits are in m'face, luv."
"yeah? never heard a man complain about that before," you laughed lowly. he grunted in response, a gloved hand wrapping around your waist to hold you steady. "what? you don't like 'em?"
he clicked his tongue, shaking his head, and you laughed again, continuing to sew the plastic to the fabric.
"you're gonna look so scary," you smiled wide. "you like looking scary on the field?"
"keeps the little ones at bay."
"everyone's little to you, simon."
"aye."
you snorted, settling in his lap as you were almost finished sewing the mask. you tied off the thick thread when you were finished, using some scissors to cut the excess fabric. you met his eyes as you sat there, and you smiled at him; maybe he did look intimidating, but all you could think about was how those pretty eyes sparkled last night when he came into your hand and how much you were going to miss that look when he was gone.
"the paint, simon?"
he held up a small jar in one hand, and you took a brush from the coffee table and began to draw lines down the face of the mask. you passed over his dark eyes, winking at him playfully before doing the same line on the other half of the mask. you put the brush down, dipping the tip of your manicured finger in it and then starting to draw the lines down where the mouth of his face would be.
you could feel his warm breath against your finger, and you cupped his cheek with your other hand, holding him firm as you drew along the mask.
"i'm going to miss you, simon," you whispered, swallowing hard. you avoided his eyes, focusing on drawing along the cloth. you let out a shaky breath. "i-i mean...i always miss you, but now you're gonna be gone and...whenever you go, you go for a long time, and--"
simon squeezed your waist gently, quieting you. your bottom lip trembled a little, and you looked down, away from him.
"i-i'm sorry. i don't mean to get upset. it's stupid."
stupid. there was nothing stupid about being vulnerable. nothing stupid about baring yourself, being naked to someone in more ways than just the physical. the sex was easy together; it was everything else that simon fought with. feeling. being. loving. the mundane of that love, like coming home.
and coming home was not easy.
"'s not stupid, luv. i know i leave y'here. i know," he shook his head. "i don't do it on purpose, y'know that."
you nodded, "yes, yeah...i know. it's your job. and you're good at your job, and you made a commitment to your team, and they rely on you like you rely on them--i-i know the reasons." you smiled sadly. "i know. i just miss you...that's all."
there was an itch in the back of your head, a hoarseness lodged in your throat--sometimes you wanted to just keep talking, because forbid this be the last time i say it to you.
he hummed lowly, sliding his hands down low and cupping both sides of your ass, bringing you close. you wipe your hands off of the paint, sighing deeply, relaxing as simon leaned back against the couch and held you near. your hands circled around his neck, hugging him back as you breathed in each other--your scent, the sounds of your breath, the feel of each other's warmth.
you cleared your throat, smoothing your hands down simon's cheeks.
"let me get you geared up, yeah?"
you didn't wait for simon to answer. you picked yourself up off his lap, going to where he had his things laid out. you picked up his tactical vest, holsters, his skull-painted gloves, and you brought them back to the couch. simon sat up as you draped the vest over his head, fitting it over his shoulders. you untucked the hood of his jacket from under the vest, making sure it sat right before fastening the straps and making sure it was secure. you tugged on the straps just to make sure, your eyes skimming over the British flag on his chest and the prominent letters spelling SAS.
you busied yourself with switching out his gloves now, replacing the plain black ones with the painted-skull bone gloves. you didn't react to the calloused fingertips or the jagged scars along his hands. simon was so beautiful--every part of him was.
"i'm really proud of you, simon," you said softly. he hummed lowly but said nothing. you kissed his cheek gently, trying to meet his eyes and smile at him. "have i ever told you that?" simon shook his head, his eyes raising to stare intensely right into yours. you bit your lip. "well, i am. proud. you've come so far. they would be proud, too."
you didn't have to specify who they were. simon didn't flinch, but his eyes flickered.
you reached for one of the thigh holsters, sitting back and motioning for him to stand. when he did, you tried not to think about how much simon towered over you like this. he was taller than you, so much broader, taking up so much of your space. you reached up and started to fasten the holsters around his thigh, your fingers skimming the taut muscle there as you buckle it around him. you didn't comment on the fact that you nearly had to loosen the strap all the way just to fit around the thick of him.
you reached for the other holster, fastening it around his other thigh and looking up at him after you had finished. fuck, he looked good like this. he looked so much bigger--the width of him was greater, with you seated, you had to bend your neck back far, and having his back to the window cast low shadows over his face, darkening his gaze and giving him an eerie backlight. but you would never be afraid of simon--even all dressed up.
your lips part gently when his gloved hand cups just under your chin. you mewled lowly, looking up at him with those big eyes and a soft voice. simon knelt down suddenly, widening his thighs to cage you in on the couch and keeping a gentle hold of your chin.
"'m gonna be back before you know it, luv. sittin' right there--" he tilted his head to the spot to your left, "--y'know that, right?"
you broke out into a soft smile, bouncing a little as you nodded your head. simon clenched his jaw under the mask--fuck, you were so cute, so fucking sweet. there was nothing more comforting than knowing you were waiting for him when he came back--that you would be sitting here just like this, with this little smile on your face, your eyes so wide and pretty.
"i know," you whispered. you leaned over, smoothing your hands over the front of his vest before absentmindedly playing with the straps of it. "i know, simon. still going to miss you."
you don't meet his eyes. it was hard; simon was an important part of your life. any time you lived in his absence, it was lonely. now that you lived together, it felt that much lonelier--there was a room cold and unoccupied, an empty seat at the table, a spot on the couch without him in it. his voice soothed no nightmares and his warmth took away none of your shivering. you never told him that when you called; you only spoke of the meal you had cooked that you told him he would like and the annoying step at the entrance that the landlord still hadn't come to mend.
"c'mere."
simon smoothed his gloved hand down your chin, wrapping his fingers delicately around your throat. with a firm grip, he guided you into his lap as he sat back against the couch again, your body easily settling between his thighs again. your face relaxed, cheek smushed against his shoulder as you pressed your lips to the fabric over his neck. you sighed deeply, legs resting on either side of one of his thighs.
your head tilted back, your eyes peeking up to look at him. he moved his own head to the side, and beneath the skull, you could see those pretty dark eyes--beautiful, undeniable need in them. simon was terrible at hiding what he felt behind his eyes--they were warm, and his pupils were dilated, and you wondered if he saw the same pretty things in you that you saw in him.
your eyes fluttered when you felt one hand slide down the length of your spine. a warm, gentle hand, smoothing along the back of your shirt before cupping one side of your ass. you whined, a soft little sound escaping as you jumped slightly. your legs squeezed around his thigh, and you let out a gasp at the gentle grind. you reached up and cupped one side of his face at the first trace of pleasure, your lips pressing to the other side of it as he encouraged you to do it again.
you did. following his guiding hand, you dragged your hips up again, a strangled moan leaving you as you grind against his thigh. but it wasn't enough--as you moved, you whimpered against simon's face, letting out hot breaths of frustration. your jeans were too much of a barrier, not allowing for enough stimulation, and you felt pathetic when you heard simon's low chuckle.
"awww, sweetheart...look at ya..." he reached up with one paw of a hand and tangled a gloved hand into your hair, tugging on it firmly. he grunted as he watched your mouth fall open, slack jawed, drooling a little as you squeezed your thighs around his own. "look at tha'face. fuckin' beautiful, innit? that face you make when you want your cunny all nice and wet...when you want it pet..."
you cried out at that, nuzzling your face into his mask, kissing at the fabric and licking over the strong line of his jaw and hoping to god that he would have mercy on his pretty little roommate. that he would have mercy on her pretty face, on his name tumbling out of her mouth, on the way she grinded on his thigh like a lovesick bunny in heat.
"sound pathetic, luv..." he gripped the back of your neck, holding you at a distance now. he gripped the front of your jeans roughly, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. "now be a good puppy and take 'em off."
you shimmied out of your jeans, slipping them down your legs and kicking out of them. you were about to slip your panties off, pretty pink lace that hugged your ass so cute, but simon stopped you, forcing you back down to straddle his thigh.
"i like these," he murmured. "want them on."
you smiled, putting both hands on his vest. you gripped it tight, as tight as you could handle kevlar and bulletproof material, and then you nuzzled your face into mouth of his mask and began to ride his thigh. you were shaking. the straps of his holster were catching on your clit, and your hands were growing clammy as you tried to hold onto him for stability. you wanted to be good. you wanted to show simon how good you could be, how if he just unzipped his cargo pants and dropped them low enough, you could ride his cock so good, he'd see the fucking stars.
you hitched yourself higher on his leg, your thighs squeezing around the meat of his thigh, and he grunted lowly when your knee met his crotch. as you bounced, you rubbed up against him, and you squeaked when his gloved hand gripped your hair roughly, forcing your lips against the front of his mask. your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, a choked moan leaving you, and you kept going. you needed to show him, he needed to know--he needed to know that you wanted him, that you wanted this.
you let one hand drop, fall from his vest, and he growled out a string of angry curses when that soft hand gripped his cock through his pants. it was rough, a little aggressive, and you met his eyes easily.
"i want it--i-i want it--!" you cried. "i w-want more--"
he chuckled, and you felt tears prickling the edges of your big eyes as he laughed. your heart ached because you knew he was laughing at you. you sounded broken. you sounded lost. you sounded pathetic, but you couldn't care, you just couldn't bring yourself to. you needed more with simon.
you were tired of the in-between. you were sick of what if, when, the maybes that surrounded the unspoken thing between you. every grind of your hips, every drop of your slick that dampened his pants, all of it was just something in you screaming what are we?
he called your name, and you wanted to care about what he thought, but you needed him to know. you slipped your arms around his neck, moving until you straddled his hips, pressing your cunt right over the hardness stuck in his zipper and continuing your desperate pace.
you were going to make him understand this feeling inside. the gnawing in your chest--the thing that wanted to be outside so bad, it would claw its way out, it would force its fingers through your throat until simon could see that this wasn't a mistake.
this wasn't forgotten moments that lingered after dark. this wasn't the inevitable of a man and a woman who lived together. this was the catalyst of a bond too strong. two things, unable to be taken apart, to be reduced to separate things. there was not a simon riley without you, and there was no you without simon riley, and if he couldn't understand that, you didn't think you would survive the homecoming.
so you were going to fuck simon riley until he understood the knot was tight, and it would never unravel.
"kitty, wait--"
but he couldn't stop you. you swallowed his words, moaning desperately against the mask, your hips chasing the warm buzz that was creeping up your chest and down your thighs, your toes clenching as you notched the tip of his cock right up against your clit and fucked yourself harder against the smooth fabric of his pants.
"kitty--fuckin' christ--"
you sobbed, squeezing the back of his neck as you soaked his pants. your hips stuttered, small little circles that you made as you tried to ride out the trickle of warmth that was covering you like a comforting, pleasurable wave. your body relaxed, and you sucked on his jaw through the mask, tasting the musk and cigarette smoke that lingered there.
"simon--p-please--"
he grunted, pressing on the back of your head to tuck your face into his neck. you sniffled, moody and emotional from coming so hard, and you shook your head.
"y'r not ready for it. not time yet."
"i am," you sounded like such a baby. a cock-drunk pretty little roommate that needed something so desperately, she was so scared of what she might do to have it. to have him. "i am, please--"
"luv--"
"it's not fair," you gasped, pulling back from him. you stared up at him, and he hummed lowly, reaching up to wipe the tears that gathered under your eyes. "it's not fair, why--why can't i--?"
he tsked, clicking his tongue as he got to his feet, and your eyes lowered as he cursed under his breath, adjusting his pants, and you felt a sliver of victory as you realize that you made simon cum in his pants like a teenager.
"i w-won't wait forever."
the air in the room changed immediately. it came out of your mouth faster than you could stop it, and you tensed against the couch as his head turned, snapping to look at you.
"wot? wot did y'just say?"
"nothing."
"look at me."
you grit your teeth as he leaned down and knocked you under the chin, forcing your head to tilt back.
"wot did you just say?"
"nothing," you repeated, firmer this time. his eyes narrowed, two black, dull eyes staring down at you. his gaze was intense, and it was meant to scare you, but simon could never scare you. deep down, you knew he would never hurt you, at least not physically.
emotionally, simon had your heart in his hands, and those hands were not made to nurture. they were made to make pretty roommates cum and to pull dirty triggers. but nowhere in that did it say they were made to love you. nowhere did it specify he would keep it safe. you had given it up, before you had even realized, and he was playing you like his favorite instrument.
but simon didn't know how to play music. and there was a part of you that knew nothing about this was in tune.
when he goes, he doesn't say goodbye. and when you cried, it echoed in an empty room.
you would not wait forever. i will not wait forever.
he will not wait forever.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut
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Let You Go - Tara Carpenter
Summary: It's been a while since Tara has seen you. She misses you, but maybe she's broken your relationship to a point beyond repair.
Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of death, angst
Word Count: 7.9k
a/n: thank you so much for the ride guys! Here we have part 3 of second best, which (kind of) ends this trilogy. Of course, I'm still writing the alternate ending so stay tuned if you're interested!
third part of Second Best
It was two in the afternoon when Tara began rummaging through that box she kept at the back of her closet, sorting the contents into "burn" and "don't burn," all in line with what her therapist had advised. She needed to overcome the past, even if in small steps, and what better way to start than by burning traces of when everything started going wrong?
She looked into the box, examining the contents that would survive the purge. To no one's surprise, most of the photos contained you.
Tara reached for a specific photo among the others. A polaroid depicting a hug between the two of you, both with radiant smiles and faces so close that your cheeks touched. Mindy had taken this photo just before you both visited an amusement park that had been in town for a while. Tara's heart throbbed painfully. She missed you. A lot.
The girl sat on the bed with slumped shoulders, clutching the polaroid as if it were a precious possession. She couldn't take her eyes off the image of the two of you, with a happiness and innocence that would soon be ruined by her own actions. With a tired sigh, Tara closed her eyes, remembering her therapist's words.
The initial sessions were slow and unproductive, mainly because Tara kept her guard up and refused to talk much about her life to a stranger. Over time, the man became a pleasant presence, and Tara began to see him as some sort of a grandfather figure trying to advise his granddaughter. That's when she started sharing her problems and actively sought solutions.
"Do you think she'll forgive me?" she remembered asking, looking at her hands with shame. The bright white light in the room made the sweat on her palms stand out on her tan skin.
"Tara..." The man sighed, taking off his glasses as if he was preparing for a battle. "Don't you think you should worry about forgiving yourself first?"
The girl frowned and looked at him as if he were crazy. If anything, she was guilty of not only ruining her own life but also becoming a problem in everyone else's. She had no right to see herself as a victim. "What do you mean?"
"From what you've told me, I've realized you harbor a lot of resentment towards yourself on the inside." He pointed to Tara's chest, and she noticed no hint of judgment in his expression. Still, she felt strangely exposed. "Have you ever really reflected on this internal conflict you feel? About feeling guilty for things beyond your control?"
Tara scoffed and leaned back until her shoulders rested against the chair again, crossing her arms and staring at the walls like a stubborn child avoiding conflicts. "Beyond my control? I was awful to the best person in my life! I let a murderer into our life for-"
"See? You're doing it again." He smiled with a patience that bordered on irritating for the girl, crossing his hands on the glass table that separated them. "I'm not saying you're not at fault for being rude to your friend, but I'd like to focus on your past. That girl's attacks, parental abandonment... You're not to blame for that, Tara, but it doesn't stop you from carrying the pain anyways. Don't you think it affects you?"
She remained silent, but now her head was bowed in embarrassment. Her arms, once crossed, now enveloped her elbows in a half-hug, as if that would protect her from something. Without more exchanging words, the therapist followed the cue and continued speaking in a gentle tone, as if trying to educate a wounded animal.
"Tara, have you ever talked about your concerns with anyone, or have you just kept all these grievances inside until they exploded? Have you ever had any healthy coping mechanism?"
I don't deserve one. That's what she wanted to say, but didn't, because she knew it would make the situation even worse.
"Do you think I don't recognize the signs? Troubled young adult refuses help out of fear of abandonment and ends up driving everyone away, taking the opportunity to take out your emotional wounds on others? You won't be the first or the last person I've seen with this pattern." He spoke as if he could read her thoughts, leaving the girl a little scared.
Sitting up straighter in the chair, Tara turned her gaze back to the therapist, momentarily becoming interested in the conversation again. "Okay, what do I do to end this? What do I do to not be like this anymore?"
Broken, she wanted to say.
The man smiled gently and pulled open a drawer in the wooden cabinet to his left. Tara watched impatiently as he took out a black notebook and placed it on the table between them, looking between her and the object with a certain expectation. "I thought you could start documenting your feelings on paper, instead of keeping them locked within you. I think it can help you in the long run."
"Do you think writing in a journal will make me less of an ass and make y/n forgive me?" Tara replied with a sarcastic tone.
"I think it can influence a change in behavior, yes." The therapist reaffirmed, deliberately ignoring the girl's foul language. "And this exercise is not about y/n; it's about you. How do you expect her to forgive you if you can't do it for yourself?"
As stubborn as Tara was, the words had truly left an impression on her. That's why, on top of her messy desk, was the damn black notebook. The calluses on her hand throbbed with the memory of the force with which she wrote each new entry, trying to release her negative feelings onto paper.
She knew that your name was probably the most repeated word on all the pages, like a sacred mantra that she had to honor. Tara couldn't escape the fact that many of her emotions were so directly intertwined with the idea of you, and honestly, she accepted having to carry that burden as her own Sisyphean stone. She deserved it, after all.
Looking again at the polaroid, she sighed and slowly ran her thumb over the smiling image of your face, almost wishing she could offer you the same affection in person.
She was going to change. She had to change. For you.
_
"That was pretty good!"
The floodlights on the university’s sports field lit up as it began to get dark, allowing the young athletes to continue their training even at night. There weren't many people around, but you could see that the track team seemed to be gearing up to practice for the 100 meters a little to your left.
"Kate, I hit the white part." You grumbled in response to your friend's encouraging words. Kate Bishop had convinced you to attend one of her archery practices to "see her talents firsthand," and at some point, she thought just watching wouldn't be enough, and that you had to experience the sport for yourself.
That's why you were now on the archery training field with her, holding a semi-professional bow that was much heavier than you expected, proving over and over again that you were definitely not a natural at this.
It didn't seem to discourage Kate, however, as the girl still smiled with enthusiasm while looking at your target with a single arrow stuck in it. "At least you hit the target! You're improving; it could be worse."
"True! You could have hit someone's foot, like Miss Bishop did once." One of Kate's teammates, Yelena, commented with a laugh. The two, along with Maya Lopez, made up the Blackmore University women's archery team and were surprisingly good at it, having won all the recent competitions.
You laughed along with the other two while Kate gradually turned redder and assumed a betrayed expression. "Hey!" She protested.
It was amazing how people you had known for such a short time could make you feel so good. You couldn't even remember the last time you had laughed so freely since the incident with Tara happened, and that was already a significant victory for you. It's not like being with Mindy, Chad, Anika, and the others didn't make you happy, but it was hard to enjoy the moments with them when you remembered that, in any other situation, Tara would be there with you too.
Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you leaned the tip of the bow on your foot, letting its weight rest on your shoulder so you could reach the device with your hands. Through the lockscreen, you could see a message notification from Mindy, as if she had read your thoughts.
Best Twin: Movie night at the Carpenters' house, are you coming?
Best Twin: Sam misses you
Best Twin: We all do
You sighed deeply and looked at the notification with a grimace, not sure exactly what to do. Of course, you would love to spend time with your friends, and you definitely felt guilty for avoiding Sam by extension, even though she understood the reason. But your palms started to sweat just at the thought of sharing a small space with Tara again.
Mindy had already told you that Tara had started therapy after the encounter you had in some of the university’s corridors some time ago, but she had also said that it was entirely valid if you still didn't feel ready to see Tara after everything.
It was a strange feeling, as if two forces were fighting for dominance within you when it came to Tara. On one hand, just thinking about her made your chest ache. A wave of anger, sadness, and pure humiliation invaded you, and your eyes threatened to well up. What she did to you, what she said to you, marked you like a painful burn that might never stop pulsating.
But on the other hand, you wondered if there were still traces of that other Tara who loved and treated you well. The Tara who made you soup when you were sick and promised never to leave you. Maybe it was your foolishness, but you didn't want to believe that that part of her had simply gone away forever.
"Are you okay?" A soft voice reached your ears and quickly snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to loosen the tight grip with which you had involuntarily held the phone. Looking up, you came face to face with Kate's kind blue eyes, patiently waiting for your response.
Kate Bishop had been an angel in your life, fitting in perfectly at the moment you needed her most. You had met her in the waiting room of the counseling center after spending a week living like a zombie following everything that happened with Tara, and you could barely comprehend that you were sharing the same space with someone like her.
At first glance, Kate Bishop didn't seem like someone who needed to be in a counseling center. She carried herself with confidence, always with impeccable posture and a calm expression on a model-like face. Always dressed in neat clothes that you were sure were designer and carrying a sports bag indicating her athletic background.
But when she approached you and started a conversation, saying she needed to talk to someone or she'd explode with anxiety before her first appointment, you began to realize that Kate might not be what you expected. She was, in fact, much kinder and more attentive than you could have predicted.
You talked a lot that day, and the next day, and the day after, until there came a point where you got along well enough to consider her a friend. Kate listened to everything about your issues with Tara and provided advice and emotional support. In return, you listened to her vent about her problems with a father who died in childhood, a mother imprisoned for fraud, and an inherited company she didn't want to have to run at that age.
They were quite different dilemmas, just as you were quite different people, but still, you felt at ease in her presence, and it was good to have someone who truly noticed you for once in your life.
"Hm? Okay. It's fine, yes, I just..." You searched for words but gave up, opting to speak the truth about what was bothering you. "Mindy invited me to watch movies with the others, and it's at Tara's house, and I didn't want to have to refuse, but I don't know if I'm ready for-"
Kate widened her eyes and raised her hands as if asking for a pause, interrupting your rapid and anxious flow of words. "Woah, hold on, champ. You don't have to go if you don't feel okay. They'll understand."
"Yeah, I know, it's just that..." You sighed, looking down at your feet planted in the field's grass. "I miss them, but... I can't."
As much as it hurt and was embarrassing to admit, you knew it still wasn't the right time. Not when you sometimes still woke up crying in the middle of the night with nightmares involving her.
"Then how about this?" Kate began to suggest, getting closer to you and gently shaking your shoulders. Physical touches had always been her way of offering comfort. "There's a party at my place tonight with some of my childhood friends, and I'm officially inviting you. You can tell your friend that you'll be busy spending time with a very beautiful, charming, and talented company."
You smiled as you let yourself be shaken by the cheerful girl in front of you. "A very humble company, apparently." You teased, poking her ribs playfully. "I don't want to disturb you, but thanks for the invite."
"Disturb? I'd be the one disturbing your illustrious evening by forcing you to hang out with my friends! Believe me, it's torture listening to Peter for 2 hours when he gets excited about his nerd stuff." Kate tried again, and by the way she looked at you with the expression of a begging puppy, you knew there would be no escape. "Please? It'll be nice to have you there."
There were two available possibilities. In the first, you could go back to your dorm, watch a bad movie alone, and spend the rest of the night thinking about how your friends would be having fun, specifically wondering if she would be having fun. In the second, you could take another step in getting rid of your codependent friendship (if it still existed) and enjoy the night with new people and a person who was becoming more and more important to you every day.
If Tara didn't want to be stuck in the past, you also had the right to do that. You deserved it too.
So, you accepted and only remembered to inform Mindy when you were already in the passenger seat of Kate's black Audi RS7.
_
Tara was distraught. Actually, saying that she was distraught was an understatement.
Last night had already started off as garbage from the moment Mindy announced that you wouldn't be coming to see them at the apartment. Sure, she should have expected it, but that didn't mean she didn't have any hope. She couldn't stop thinking about what you might be doing, the reasons why you hadn't come, how everything would have been better if you had.
But mostly, she felt relieved that you hadn't been there, because that meant she hadn't put you in danger again with another ghostface attack. It was a selfish thought. Quinn, her roommate, had died in front of her, Anika had her belly almost cut from end to end and was now in surgery, and all Tara could think about was finding you to see with her own eyes that you were okay.
She urgently searched for your face in the midst of the crowd of students walking through the Blackmore University campus, seeking the slightest fragment of your presence anywhere. She cursed herself again for not being able to just call you like she would if she hadn't messed up and made you block her in practically every possible place.
Finding you and making sure you were okay, in addition to delivering the terrible news, was her obligation. Mindy and Sam were with Anika at the hospital, and Chad had gone to check Ethan's alibi in the damn economics class. She needed to find you.
Fortunately, her prayers seemed to be answered by whatever entity it was. She saw you in the distance, radiant as she hadn't seen you in a long time. Tara's heart skipped a beat, and she opened her own smile after yours. It was bittersweet, the feeling of seeing you so happy but knowing that this happiness would be ruined the moment you laid eyes on her.
In a moment of distraction, a new wave of people passed in front of her, blocking her view of you. Fucking height. She thought with some annoyance as she tried to make her way through the students, trying to get closer to where you were.
When Tara finally managed to locate you again, the scene was quite different from before. Instead of laughing, looking forward, you had your back turned, seemingly struggling while a girl wrapped her arms around your neck. Tara felt a wave of anger rise through her veins and marched in your direction, ready to free you from whoever that crazy bitch was.
The younger Carpenter approached you with a speed she couldn't quite explain, and her motivation only seemed to grow when she noticed that the mysterious girl looked a lot like that senior she had seen with you in the hallway some time ago. Choosing to embrace her negative feelings, she used her strength in a way that would make her sister proud and aggressively pushed the girl away. "What do you think you're doing?!"
"Tara?!" You exclaimed in shock, your voice carrying surprise, and your expression wavering between anger, astonishment, and anguish. "What do you think you're doing, are you crazy?!"
Tara saw you getting closer to the girl (Karen, Kendra, she couldn't remember.) and gently placing your hand on her shoulder, as if checking her condition. That small gesture made more anger bubble in her stomach. She wanted to scream, throw a fit, damn, she wanted to destroy something just to get rid of that rotten feeling corroding her from the inside.
But she looked into your eyes and could see a glimpse of the sadness she had caused in the past by this same line of thinking. She couldn't do this to you again, especially because that wasn't even why she had come looking for you. Tara swallowed hard and clenched her fists, deciding to save her frustration to take it out on calluses on her own fingers later.
"She was attacking you," Tara mumbled reluctantly, knowing that the explanation sounded stupid but that she also owed some reasoning for her actions.
You clearly didn't seem satisfied with her motivation, as you only stared at her with a frown and crossed arms. "Kate is a martial arts expert, Tara. She was just showing me how to escape from an arm lock."
Well, how was I supposed to know that? Tara thought, but she decided it was better not to worsen the situation. Before you could ask why she had been clearly looking at you for some time, she decided to explain.
"Look, I'm sorry. There was a ghostface attack in the apartment yesterday, and I just needed to know if you were safe."
"What?! An attack?! How- Are you guys okay?!" You asked exasperated, and Tara saw it. She saw the exact moment when you had to restrain your arms by your sides before doing something you would regret.
Tara remembered that being the first thing you did when you could see her after the surgeries last year. You ran to her on the gurney and held her face with both hands, as if she were fragile. You ran your thumbs over her cheeks, right above the freckles, wanting to make sure nothing was injured. She remembered feeling well cared for and loved.
But that was before she messed everything up. Now, all that was left was that. You restraining yourself from offering your heart to Tara, and she wanting to die realizing the damage she had done between you two.
"Sort of. Anika is in critical condition in the hospital, and... Quinn died." Tara delivered the news with a solemn voice, trying to control her own tears as she remembered what happened. She saw when Kate raised her arm to offer a comforting stroke on your back, and, for the first time, all Tara felt was emptiness knowing she couldn't comfort you in that way.
You let out a few sobs before trying to compose yourself. It was clear that you had been affected by the events, and Tara knew you well enough to know that you would want to go after the others to comfort them. "Which hospital is Anika in? And where are Sam, Mindy, and Chad, I... I need to talk to them."
Tara felt a bit of pride in realizing that she still knew your way of dealing with things, even though she was worried that your priority was always to take care of others' pains. Of course, much of that was her fault, and a knot closed in her throat every time she remembered that fact. "Sam and Mindy are at the hospital waiting for Anika to be discharged. Chad went with Ethan to handle something about an alibi."
"I can take you if you want," Kate offered you in a chivalry that almost made Tara vomit. "It will be faster if we go by car."
"Or maybe it would be faster for her to take the subway with someone who knows the address, like me." Tara retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms to try to cause, at least, the minimal intimidation to her rival. It didn't seem to be working, which made her even more irritated. "Speaking of addresses, where were you last night, Kate?"
Feeling that the conversation would only escalate, you quickly shook your head. "Stop it, Tara. There's no way Kate could be the ghostface."
"And why not?" The girl asked defensively, with an offended tone almost similar to one she would have if you had accused her. It was frustrating for Tara that you seemed willing to vouch for a person you had barely known. "She suddenly appeared in your life, got so close to you in such a short time, don't you find that a bit suspicious?"
"This might sound a bit surprising to you, Tara, but some people actually like having me around." You retorted with irritation, throwing daggers at the girl with a look so intense that she almost stumbled backward. "Kate can't be ghostface because I spent the whole night with her, okay?"
Suddenly, Tara felt dizzy, with a buzzing in her ears. Apparently, you hadn't had the best problem in overcoming your feelings for her. She felt weird inside, as if something were stuck in her throat. "Oh, I didn't know you guys..."
"No! Not like that, I just..." You widened your eyes and hurried to correct the double meaning of the sentence, waving your hands frantically in a way that made Kate open a smile in amusement beside you. "...I slept at her apartment, but not with her. Not that I owe you an explanation anyway."
Your phone vibrated with a notification, and all three pairs of eyes turned to the device. You quickly checked the message and let out a sigh of relief. "It's Sam. She sent me the address of the hospital; I'm going there now. Without any of you, please."
"Okay. Just be careful, alright? And call me if you need anything." Tara watched reluctantly as Kate pulled you closer by the shoulders and planted a small kiss on your forehead. She swallowed the envy and looked away, trying to think of the last time she had offered you any kind of affection.
You said goodbye to Kate with a warm smile and a hug. For Tara, your lips pressed into a line, and you nodded briefly, almost as if you were greeting a stranger.
She wondered if that's what you two were now.
The Carpenter girl prepared to leave, maybe to find Chad and help him or just take a walk to ease the tornado swirling in her chest. However, she was interrupted by a hand on her arm. Kate Bishop tried to get her attention, wearing a conflicted expression on her face.
"What is it?" Tara grumbled, shaking her arm to free herself from the other girl's touch. She was used to being shorter than most people, but with Kate, it became even more annoying, especially when she had to look down at her.
"Look, I know you don't like me, and, to be honest, I don't like you one bit, but I need you to do something for me," Kate said seriously, putting a hand in her pocket and retrieving an object that Tara could only identify as a car key.
The shorter one scoffed. "Listen, I know Y/N and I are on bad terms, but I don't need you to ask me to take care of her. I'm going to do that anyway because I care about her, believe it or not."
Kate rolled her eyes impatiently. "I know. I can see that in you the same way you can see it in me."
It was true, as much as it bothered Tara to admit. She wasn't blind, and she had enough experience in reading people to know that the way Kate looked at you was sincere, and the girl genuinely cared about you. Putting aside her own jealousy and envy, Tara was relieved to know that there was someone good enough to show these feelings for you. You deserved it, after all.
The girl continued, "This device here is a prototype from my mom’s—my company. It's for security." She raised the object and placed it in Tara's hand, who could now see the details of what she had previously thought was a car key. It was a black oval keychain with a single button in the middle, also black. "I pulled some strings and turned it into an emergency button. As soon as you press it, a signal will be sent to police cars and ambulances, and it will be their priority to get to you. That's one of the advantages of being rich and having contacts, I guess."
Tara turned the button in her hands, feeling the object weigh more now that she knew its function. "And why are you giving this to me and not Y/N?"
"Because I know she would use it on anyone but herself." Kate sighed in frustration. Tara knew it was implied in the sentence that you would use the button for her. "I'm giving it to you because... despite the fighting and you being a jerk..."
"Wow. Thanks for the honesty."
"... I can still see that you care." The taller one finished her sentence without caring about the interruption. She looked between Tara and the button with a bit of uncertainty. "When you press it, a signal will also be sent to my phone, and I'll come running wherever it is."
There were more implicit intentions in that sentence that Tara could pick up. I'll come running to help Y/N. I'll take her away from you. I can protect her better than you can.
Tara just offered a short nod and turned to leave, with the emergency button weighing as much in her pocket as her heart weighed in her chest. Thousands of thoughts filled her head, and all of them were about you and your safety. It was Tara's duty to keep you safe, first because it was her fault that you were even in that situation, and second because she had already hurt you enough.
It was her mission to protect you. To prove to herself that she could still be good for you. To prove to you how much she still cared.
And if she couldn't, if she had to press that button... well...
Maybe it would be the sign she needed to understand that Kate Bishop deserved more of a place in your life than she did.
_
The lobby of the abandoned cinema ironically looked like something straight out of a horror movie that Tara would hate. Dust had piled up in heaps on all surfaces, and the orange lights were so dim that they threatened to go out at any moment.
The others were in the center of the other room, where Richie Kirsch, being the maniac he was, left his extensive collection of items from stab movies and real life ghostfaces. Tara, however, thought it would be a better idea to follow you wherever your feet and lost expression took you, just so she wouldn't have to leave you alone, of course.
You had your back turned to her while leaning on the filthy counter with your elbows. Tara couldn't tell what you were thinking, but obviously, you were not okay, just like everyone else in that situation.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a box of Milk Duds on the other side of the counter that seemed untouched, just a few inches to your left. She approached with light steps, not wanting to make any sudden movements as if that would scare you away, and reached out to bring the box closer. "You like these, right? You can have them if you want."
You didn't respond to the joke, and you didn't even turn around to look at Tara. She felt your indifference like a stab to the chest, but she continued nonetheless. "Or not. This must be like a thousand years old anywa-"
"Tara, shut up." You finally responded sharply, making the younger girl look down in shame. She really needed to get used to your new treatment of her. You ran your hands over your face, covering it as if you were tired.
"Sorry." Tara whispered back weakly. She deserved it, but more than anything, she wanted to be able to offer you some kind of support in that difficult moment, just as you had given her all the support she needed in the past.
You scoffed, in a gesture so hostile that the younger Carpenter almost couldn't believe it came from you. You were still facing away from her, but now slowly taking steps away with tense shoulders. "Did you learn a new word? Didn't know it was in your vocabulary."
Tara felt the anger in your voice, and it made her hands begin to tremble with anxiety. You were right, and it was long overdue for you to know that. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it's too late for this, but I'm sorry for everything I did."
"Do you even care? Seriously, Tara, do you really feel sorry, or do you just miss having some idiot around who would do anything for you?" You retorted, your voice rising even as your vocal cords trembled. A dam had just burst open between you two, and now it was time to deal with the flood.
"Of course, I care, I love you!"
"SHUT UP!" You shouted in response. Tara recoiled from you with a start, startled as she had never seen you raise your voice at anyone. You were still facing away, but Tara could see that, even though you had wrapped yourself in a hug to control your reactions, it wasn't working. Your entire body was tense, as if your brain was struggling to choose between fight or flight, and the result was the tremors that seemed to spread through your system. "You have no right to do this to me! To play with me like this!"
"I'm not lying!" The shorter one retorted, and in an impulsive move, she grabbed you by the shoulder and forced you to turn until your gazes met. Tears were already streaming down your eyes like waterfalls, and your entire face seemed contorted in excruciating pain. Tara wished she could absorb all your hurt for herself. "I know I messed up, but I really love you!"
"You're toxic, Tara! That's what you are!" You shouted back with strength, holding the girl's gaze as if it were a challenge you needed to win. "You hurt me! And I was getting better, damn it, I was getting better away from you!"
"I know you were! I know! That's why I'm apologizing, okay? Because you're the best person I've ever met, and I ruined you like I ruin everyone! Because the best moments I've ever had were with you, and I feel like tearing my eyes out when I remember that I hurt you by being this way!"
"Tara..."
"No! Please let me finish." She rejected your interruption, taking the opportunity to relieve all the pain and guilt she felt inside her. "I'm getting treatment, okay? And I know you're not obligated to forgive me for anything, but I want you to know that I'm trying to be better for you! I'm trying to fix my shit to be someone you and Sam and the others can be proud of!"
"Tara..."
"And I know I hurt you a lot, but please don't doubt the love I feel for you because it's the only good thing left in me. I won't blame you if you never want to see me again, but..."
"TARA, GET DOWN!" You shouted, and before Tara could react, you were already pushing her toward the dusty wooden floor.
Everything was happening too fast for the Carpenter's mind to process. She hit the ground with a grunt of pain and a potential bruise on her arm, but she could see the exact moment when an arm covered in a black cloak descended toward your leg, making a deep cut in your thigh.
You screamed in pain, and Tara screamed next, watching your blood soak through the fabric of your pants and start dripping onto the floor. In a surge of adrenaline, the small girl ran to your side and almost reached for your arm when she was suddenly engulfed in a tight grip, with her two arms pinned to her back and a hand holding a knife to her neck.
She struggled against the masked person holding her, futilely trying to break free to get to you. Tears streamed so quickly down her face that she could taste the saltiness invading her senses. "Let me go! Y/N, run! Please, run!"
A sinister laugh reached her ears like the hiss of a snake. "Oh, Tara. Did you think it would be that easy?"
She recognized that distorted voice with effects all too well. She still heard it in her nightmares, calling her name in the dark. Ghostface was back. "I'm going to kill you, you motherfucker!"
"Oh, but I don't think so." The voice spoke in an amused tone as another killer, wearing the same mask and black cloak, approached your figure on the ground. Tara wailed like a banshee when the other pulled your hair forcefully, forcing you to stand up as he placed a knife on your neck.
She struggled a little more. "Leave her alone!"
"And where's the fun in that?" The ghostface holding her responded, almost as if they were laughing. "Come on, Tara. Weren't you the one who liked to release your anger by hurting Y/N? Why should only you have that privilege? Let's see, where was it that you got stabbed again?"
At the same time, as if reacting to a code, the ghostface holding you advanced in quick and precise movements, gripping you by the waist with one arm while thrusting the knife into you with the other, just above your kidney.
You let out another gasping scream as the blade pierced your skin, and Tara felt your body sagging as if you were about to collapse. She herself wanted to fall to her knees and plead for you to be released, but she couldn't. Whoever was holding her had great strength.
"Don’t you want her to feel the same pain you felt, huh, Tara? Don't want her to suffer what you suffered?" The voice continued to growl in her ear, sounding increasingly excited by the escalating violence. The knife on Tara's neck kept her head in place, so she couldn't look at anything other than your agony.
"No, I don't. Please, PLEASE." Tara pleaded with a tearful voice as another stab was delivered to you, this time in the center of your abdomen. Your shirt gradually turned into a pool of blood, and Tara feared you would faint at any moment.
"Tara..." You could barely pronounce her name, your voice choked and your own blood streaming down your lips. Tara's gaze met yours, and she shivered when you shook your head. She knew what that meant.
You looked feverish. Sweat and blood mingled on your skin, creating the most disturbing of the paintings. Your eyes were vacant, and Tara was so afraid they would close at any moment, never to open again.
And yet, with that nod of your head, Tara understood that your top priority at the moment was to make her understand that it wasn't her fault.
The girl's knees threatened to give up as the knife entered you one, two, three times. She shook her head but couldn't close her eyes because she needed to see you, needed to see that your eyes were still open, that you were still alive.
You couldn't die. You promised not to leave, even if everyone else did. You couldn't die. You couldn't die. You. Couldn't. Die.
"I love you. I'm sorry for loving you, I'm sorry," Tara whispered because she had no strength to speak louder. She felt on the verge of giving up and letting those maniacs do whatever they wanted with her. Nothing mattered anymore if you weren't here, and it was all her fault.
The ghostface holding her laughed with a deep voice. "You know, I could turn this into a Romeo and Juliet scene, but I think it would be more fun to kill you while Sam is watching."
With that, Tara felt her body being thrown backward, and she hit the dirty wooden floor again, this time landing with her head in a wound that would undoubtedly become a concussion.
She got up in a frenzied pace, in an adrenaline rush, thinking she could try to save you now that she was free. But, looking ahead, she realized she was outside the lobby’s door, and the maniac murderer already held the handles. Despite Tara's attempt to advance, the ghostface had already sarcastically waved and locked the doors, creating a deadly separation between you and herself.
Tara pounded on the hard wooden door, ignoring the pain in her knuckles. She hit and hit and hit, feeling cuts open on her skin and burn from the repetitive contact. She was crying, screaming, punching, cursing, doing things she couldn't even rationalize because it didn't matter anymore.
Nothing mattered anymore. Not without you.
She collapsed on the floor, tired, injured, and desperate for you. Her sobs echoed in the seemingly empty hallway, and she was too afraid to put her ear to the door and hear screams of pain like your last breath. Tara felt lost until she remembered that she was no longer trapped.
Rushing to reach the device in her pocket, she sighed in relief to find it unbroken. She pressed the button multiple times without a second thought. If she had a chance to maybe save your life, she would grab it without a doubt.
Tara remembered what she had thought before, how pressing that button might symbolize that she shouldn't be in your life. She stood up and leaned against the wall, trying to rid herself of the wave of nausea, and left the button hidden near the door. If help came following the signal, the first place they would look would be where you were.
If help came and you made it out alive, that was a promise. Tara would finally leave you alone. That's what you deserved.
---
Tara was almost sure she had developed a hospital phobia since the events of last year.
There was no other explanation for why she felt uneasy in that environment, even after they had taken all precautions for her. She still hated the white walls and the smell of chemicals and couldn't wait to get out of there.
For now, she decided to ignore this feeling and continued following Sam through the corridors of fluorescent lighting. It was important for her to stay inside until they finally found the doctor who could tell them what they wanted to know.
She checked her hands again, finding the tanned skin covered in some bandages but free from the mixture of her blood and Ethan's after she... lost control.
After she was separated from you, everything happened so fast that Tara could almost think it was all a delusion. All the revelations, the attacks, her adding another victim to her count, the police arriving... All of that had taken a back seat because nothing was more important than you.
It was as if her life had turned into a black and white movie in the moments she was without you. Everything felt colorless, purposeless. Fortunately, she was pulled out of her own spiral of melancholy when she saw you being taken out of the old movie theater on a stretcher by paramedics. She tried to get closer, but it was needed to give you space so that nothing touched your wounds and caused an infection.
Tara tried to go in the ambulance with you, but she and Sam were pulled for another checkup, and you needed to be rushed to a surgery room urgently if you wanted to have the slightest chance of survival. So, Tara let you go, but there was not a moment when you weren't on her mind.
That's why now, she desperately searched for your surgeon with Sam. No one seemed to know about your condition, and she already felt like tearing her hair out from anxiety. Tara just needed to know if you were at least breathing.
"Dr. Isley?" Sam called the attention of a red-haired doctor who was passing by them in a hurry. Tara sighed in relief that her sister was paying attention to her surroundings because her mind was in a completely different place. "We were informed that you performed emergency surgery on a family member. Her name is Y/n Y/L, admitted with multiple stab wounds."
"Oh, yes. Miss Y/L." The doctor replied in a professional tone, but there was impatiency all over her body language. "It was a difficult surgery, and she lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, no vital organs were hit. I won't lie, the recovery will be painful, but at least she survived the operation without any apparent severe collateral effects."
This was the best news Tara had heard in days. She opened a smile and didn't even try to hide her own happiness as she prolonged the conversation. "Is she in any room? Can we see her?"
"Miss Y/L is in room 604, but I'm afraid only one person is allowed in at a time to avoid any disturbance."
"No problem, we can take turns." Sam pointed between her and her sister. Despite seeming much calmer than the younger one, Tara knew Sam was just as relieved as she was to know that you were still alive.
"No, you didn't understand. There's already someone in Miss Y/L's room." Dr. Isley warned and, seemingly losing the rest of her patience, she began to walk away. "Sorry, but I have other patients to attend to."
The two Carpenter sisters looked at each other alarmed. Who could be in your room? Chad was still in his own surgery, Anika had gone to stay with Mindy while she received some stitches, and frankly, your parents had never been present enough to travel between states so quickly for your sake.
They walked down the corridor, moving as fast as possible without disturbing the other people being treated or working in the area. Tara's heart threatened to jump out of her mouth as she looked from door to door, searching for the numbering of your room. 601. 602. 603.
Tara stopped so abruptly at the door that she and Sam bumped into each other, their sneakers making noise against the shiny white floor. The simple door had a small window through which it was possible to see the inside of the room without necessarily entering. Tara looked inside, ready to break the handle and force her way in if necessary.
But it wasn't, because Tara Carpenter recognized exactly the girl sitting next to your bed, holding your hand gently and stroking your hair, even though you were sleeping. She remembered, with a tightness in her chest, that Kate Bishop would be notified the moment she pressed the button.
And, in her own words, she would come running to take care of you.
"Tara, who-"
"I have to go." Tara interrupted her sister's words, looking at the scene in front of her without blinking. She knew what she had to do; there was no reason to fight the facts.
"What? What do you mean? You just got here." Sam asked, partially annoyed and partially confused by the younger one's actions.
"You heard the doctor. Her recovery will be painful, and if I stay around, all I'll cause is more pain." Tara opened a small smile just to try to pretend that she wasn’t dying inside. She knew Sam could see the truth, that she could see her broken heart and internal conflict, but she also knew that was the only possible solution.
"Tara..."
"Sam, you know I'm right. You told me that yourself a few days ago, remember? I hurt her." The girl shook her head in surrender and took a few steps away from the door. Away from you. "She needs peace, Sam. And the only way she can get that now is if I'm not around."
Tara took one last look inside the room, seeing how peaceful you looked. Sleeping, without any worries, and with an incredible and caring person by your side, ready to help you in whatever you needed.
Someone much better than her.
Perhaps that was the first time Tara had made a selfless decision in a long time, but she didn't feel deserving of any credit for it. What she had to do now was get better. Maybe more entries in her journal and more visits to her therapist would eventually fill the void she felt within her.
For now, she just turned around and started walking away from room 604. Each step hurt, like a razor cutting her skin, but it was the right thing to do. Tara had hurt you for far too long, and now...
Now it was time to let you go.
#scream#scream vi#scream 2022#scream x reader#tara carpenter x reader#jenna ortega#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x you#scream imagine#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter imagine#tara carpenter#Spotify
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thinking about beefy!bartender!eddie who has had ENOUGH of your teasing.
warnings: mean!eddie, degrading, LOTS of degrading, rough sx, p in v, unprotected probs, kinda dub-con but not really? (reader says t'much but doesn't mean it and eddie continues), nicknames, n just overall horniness, MINORS DNI.
first it started with you purposefully flirting with one of the regulars in front of him, knowing he couldn't do anything about it or the manager would be on his ass for beating up one of the regulars.
he swallowed it all down, throwing a glare at you, his hands forming into fists as he rolled his eyes at the back of his head to hold himself back to not punch the asshole who's hand was grazing your thigh.
but then you giggled and batted your lashes at him while he was busy trying to make a drink, he would usually love your little bratty flirty antics, but not when the bar was this busy. his breath hitched as your manicured nails brushed against his bicep, traveling further and further down his chest, grazing his soft tummy, giggling as you slowly made your way down to his crotch, nobody else could see it because of the bar, and once you got closer to his bulge that was straining against his pants, he dropped the shaker in his hands, making a mess and ruining everything.
"shit- fuckin' great!" he cursed through his gritted teeth, piercing gaze quick to turn on you. you pouted at him, all brattily and he shook his head.
without his deadly glare leaving you, "cover for me for ten minutes," he muttered toward his right, his co-worker groaned at the sight of the mess.
"dude, are you kiddin' me, the place is packed we can't-"
"ten minutes," he said through gritted teeth, almost like it was a warning.
and his possessive gaze on you remained, once the guy nodded with a sigh, eddie didn't take another second to grab your arm harshly, ignoring your bratty whines while he took you to the bathroom.
manhandling you roughly, he dragged you to the first stall, locking it before he quickly had you bending over, you whined and squirmed but he didn't care, smushing your cheek against the walls while he had you all sprawled for him.
your skirt flipped over your back, and he was quick to undo his belt and to free his hardened cock, pre-cum dribbled all over his hot tip. one of his calloused hands roughly grabbed you by your waist. other holding your neck, squeezing it just a little to have you in your place.
"y'think it's fuckin' funny to be a brat, huh?" he mocked, and you were quick to shake your head.
"no?" he chuckled, dark and mean, "then why were you actin' like such a desperate lil' slut out there, huh?" it wasn't a question and he didn't let you answer, his hold on you bruisingly tight, and it made you squirm excitedly.
he barked out a chuckle. "needed my attention, didn't you? needed me to fuck you dumb, isn't that right?" the best you could do was faintly nod, tummy filled with excitement and the need to have him fuck you, to feel his big cock stretch you out.
he tutted. "words, sweetheart, if you can be a desperate fuckin' brat, showin' off to everyone what's supposed to be mine, i think you can use that slutty little mouth of yours, hmm?"
"n-needed your attention, eds," you murmured quietly, earning an approving grin from him.
"that's right, baby, that's right... don't worry, i'll fuck the brat out of you, yea?" fingertips grazed against your slit, coaxing pathetic whines out of you.
two digit-fingers slipped inside of you without a warning, making you gasp. "teach you some fuckin' manners?"
"p-please," you whined. and that's all it took for him to remove his fingers and pound into you, slipping inside of your wet cunt easily, stretching you out with one deep thrust.
he enjoyed your mewls, pathetic and lewd, encouraging him to rut himself deeper inside of you, feeling your tight cunt stretch on his big veiny cock. your walls struggling to accommodate his size.
"that's it sweetheart, take it, just like that." low grunts push past his gritted teeth, hips working into you at a fast pace.
you're crying out, voice muffled by your moans, as your pussy twitches around him. with a gruff, "what, is this too fuckin' much for the little brat?" he spits, tone filled with venom and desire.
you nod sheepishly, it isn't too much, but you enjoy him being mean, going all out, fucking you till you see stars. and eddie knows this, he fucking knows you like the back of his hand.
with a grin, his thrusts pick up, rougher, meaner, cock fully inside of you.
"too bad, sweetheart, you wanted attention? you're gettin' all my fuckin' attention."
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson drabbles#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic
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Part 2
~ hiya! I'm really nervous about posting this, but I couldn't not at least try to give you a second part after the response the last one got! ~
~ I really appreciate everyone reading it and enjoying it as much as you did ..I hope this one doesn't ruin it for you! ~
~ I think this one's around 13k words. so again ..it's a long one, if you have nothing else to do! ~
~ there’s quite a lot of story before Alexia makes an appearance, sorry ..but she does eventually show up! ~
~ I promise to put more of her in the next part if any of you end up wanting one ~
~ I’m really worried this will disappoint a lot of you, but at least you still have the first part to go back to, if nothing else! ~
~ I really hope you're able to enjoy it even just a little bit, and thanks again for loving the first part so much! the response was very overwhelming and I've loved you all reaching out to tell me that you liked it ~
~ good luck! good bye xx ~
~ Part 1 ~
________________
One night.
One perfect night.
That’s all it took.
One perfect night to throw your whole damn life into disarray.
One perfect night, that’s lead to endless subsequent nights, spent tossing and turning on your own, replaying the memory over on a loop in your mind. It’s only been about a month, but it feels like an eternity.
A never-ending, exhausting cycle of yearning and confusion.
It was the most welcome distraction from your ex-boyfriend’s evil escapades, you’ve not really thought about him at all since.
It should have set you free, broken you out of the chains of mundanity. It showed you a whole new world, a world of women. It gave you a new perspective on life. Unlocked a realm of brand-new possibilities all ready and waiting for you to venture, and yet, you don’t want to explore any of them.
It's not that you haven’t tried.
You’d have been an idiot to assume that it’s only her that can make you feel like this. That would be giving her an awful lot of credit. Yes, she was your first woman, but that didn’t mean that she needed to be your last. The way your mind and body reacted to her, maybe you could have been slightly gayer than you thought, but it doesn’t really look to be the case.
A pair of lesbian sisters always seemed incredibly unlikely to you, and your sister’s already called dibs on the label. Maybe it’s the mere existence of your younger sister that eradicates the possibility of any real queerness in yourself. That’s probably how the handing out of sexualities works, right?
It’s a working theory, and one that you seem to be proving the accuracy of.
You’ve been to a few more clubs since your entanglement with the Spanish mystery. Only returning back to that specific one, once. It gave you a headache just stepping through the door. She was still everywhere in the room, her spirit living in the walls. You barely managed to stay inside for even a second before it became too much for you, sending your heart and mind racing.
You took yourself back home, reminiscing every single kiss you’d shared with her on that fanciful journey back to her hotel together. Looking up at the floor she had been staying on, as you hastily walked past it on your own.
Even the nightclubs that aren’t haunted by her ghost, haven’t yielded much greater success with you.
You paid a visit to a smaller bar, a fair few nights after your perfect one, and had found a woman interested in you. More than interested. She was pretty, and friendly enough. She was flirty and bought you a few drinks. She didn’t try to play it weird by aiding you in your consumption of alcohol. There was no intriguing salt and lime foreplay. She was far more straightforward, far less irritating.
Maybe that’s why it didn’t work. Maybe she was too plain. Maybe she was too simple and easy for you to understand. Or maybe it’s the fact that when she pressed herself against you in search of a kiss, an alarm bell rang out inside of your head. You suddenly found yourself all too aware that she was a woman, and you simply no longer wanted to follow through with your curiosities.
It doesn’t help in your confusion, why the femininity of one woman can leave you feeling more certain of your straightness, while another’s femininity has you still helplessly pining after her.
It’s not like you were under any illusion with the Spanish woman. You were entirely aware that she was also a woman, and it wasn’t off putting to you at all. You enjoyed her being a woman. She smelt nice, she tasted nice. Her body was beautiful, and her lips were soft, and it doesn’t make any sense that she’s allowed to put a yearning in you that no other woman is able to satisfy.
That does seem very typical of her, though. She really was very cocky and frustrating.ﾠﾠ
Until she wasn’t, of course.
Then, she was just sweet and considerate. Cautious and careful. Flirty and undemanding. She took you back to hers and she still had no expectations from you. She was still willing to let you walk away. Maybe you should have.ﾠﾠ
You knew even then that you should have.
It was daft of you to follow after her. Foolish to lose yourself with her, spending the night together, giggling under the sheets. Sharing kisses as you drowned yourselves in each other. Learning her body, every mark, scar and freckle, and committing them all to your memory. Tracing her curves and her tattoos and discovering what it is that makes her tick.ﾠ
She was patient, and understanding, she wasn’t in a rush with you. She spent the whole night exploring with you. Studying your body, wanting to learn all the things you liked her doing, and the things you really liked her doing. She turned what could have been a terrifying, embarrassing, disaster of an experience, into the most incredible encounter of your life.
She brought you more pleasure than your pathetic ex-boyfriend had ever managed to give you in your whole 5-year relationship, in less than 5 minutes of her having your clothes off. She had the most unholy of noises spilling from your lips with her fingers and tongue inside of you, and she wasn’t exactly quiet herself, in letting you know when you were doing the right thing with her.
She was intoxicating, exhilarating. She was life-affirming.
She’s a far more dangerous addiction to you than alcohol could ever manage to be. You’ve never been tempted by drugs before, but you can’t even imagine the high from them being able to compete against what she’s done to you.
It was just one night.
It was one perfect night.
________________
Living back with your younger sister isn’t exactly where you saw yourself being at 26. Your London flat had started feeling a little too big for you, without a traitorous arsehole of a man invading your space. So, you invited her to move in with you, not wanting to have to give up your dream property just because he had decided to try ruining your life. You needed help with the rent, and she had gratefully accepted.
You didn’t necessarily expect her to also invite her idiot new girlfriend into your home with her. That wasn’t really part of the deal, though you didn’t explicitly tell her that she couldn’t. You can’t really blame her. If you were able to spend every waking moment of your life with ‘A’ right beside you, you’d jump at the opportunity headfirst.
It still doesn’t aid in the dispelling of your confusion. There’s no jealousy when you see them together. Her girlfriend does nothing for you, none of her girlfriends ever have. You both have decidedly different tastes in women. Your sister’s taste is entirely questionable, yours is perfection.
You haven’t mentioned your Spanish predicament to your sister. She’d probably laugh at you for it, call you tragic, and embarrassing. Tell you everything you’ve already been telling yourself on repeat in your head. She wouldn’t be very helpful; she very rarely is. She’s your very annoying, smart-arse of a little sister, who couldn’t possibly give you any decent advice. She’s 2 years younger than you and she's an idiot.
She’s not the one who’s still hung up on a stranger after over a month, though. It’s rarely taken her longer than 24 hours to get over someone she’s been with. She’s not the one who’s been questioning herself every night. She’s never questioned herself at all. You’re fairly certain her very first thought, straight out of the womb was about another woman.
She didn’t really have to come out to the family at any point, she kissed her first girl when she was 8. Always been a bit of a Casanova, your sister. A walking stereotype of a lesbian. Short, brightly coloured, undercut hair, quite a few piercings, heavily tattooed. She’s obsessed with women’s football, always watching re-runs of ‘The L Word,’ and overwhelmingly insistent in trying to prove to you that Taylor Swift is also secretly gay.
Your sister’s certainty in her own sexual identity isn’t something that’s ever irritated you before. Not when you were always so sure of yourself, too. You appreciated her confidence. It was admirable, given the way people can be with her. She’s your self-assured little sister, who isn’t great at confrontation. So, you support her whenever anyone tries to tear her down.
Now, however, this too-late-in-life existential crisis you’re struggling with, has you wishing she’d try to be a little bit more questioning herself. Her surety and cockiness about her sexuality is suddenly the most prominent attribute of her personality, and it’s really starting to drive you up the wall.
It’s a rare evening where it’s only the two of you at home together. You don’t really know where her girlfriend is, and you don’t much care. You only feel responsible for one annoying lesbian, the one who shares your surname.
She’s being rather antisocial with you, playing video games alone in her bedroom, and you’ve just finished tidying up the dining table after sharing the dinner you cooked for you both. You’re not exactly sure how you’ve found yourself solo parenting your stroppy little sibling when you’re really not much older than her yourself, but there you go.
Maybe you should try speaking to her. See what she can possibly offer you by way of sapphic guidance. If she’s going to continue having her nuisance girlfriend living here rent-free, she should at least try giving you something to make it worth your while.
You walk straight through to her bedroom and collapse your head onto her stomach on the bed. Making sure to do so with just enough force behind it to ensure you manage to leave her winded and interrupt her gaming. She grunts under you, and you earn an overly aggressive smack to your shoulder for achieving your goal. As, whatever other little child she’s playing her game against, has just managed to score past her.
“You’re a twat!” She scolds, and you backhand her face to shut her up. She raises her fist above your stomach, and you flinch, bracing for impact.
“I have a question!” You shout, before she has chance to attack.
She pauses her lifted fist above you, and reluctantly agrees to a truce, providing your question is of interest to her. “What?” She groans, and you fiddle with your fingers, trying to find the right wording.
“Why do you like women?” You ask, your face grimacing as you await her response.
It isn’t your smoothest ever phrasing, not your wittiest form of delivery. It’s honestly, rather annoyingly, not the most subtle line of questioning. Despite it not being entirely to the point, your sister isn’t stupid.
“What?”
Oh ..maybe she is!
That’s not going to be super helpful with your impending interrogation.
“Why not men?” You suggest, still trying not to be too blatant. “How did you know you liked women?”
“I looked at one.” She tells you, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Why?”
“Do you find every woman attractive?”
“No, but I find enough of them attractive to sense a pattern.” She explains. “Why?”
“And you’ve never been attracted to a man? Not even tempted?”
“No. Not once. Why?”
“Never ever?”
“Y/N!”
“I was just wondering.” You tell her quickly, drumming your fingers on top of your stomach.
“About women?” She queries.
“About ..why women. What it is about them.”
“Aside from the obvious?” She snickers, nudging your arm.
You quickly bounce your head back against her stomach winding her again.
“Stop doing that!”
“Stop being annoying!” You warn her. Your frustration at yourself getting the better of you.
She tries to push you off of her, but you mess with the analogue sticks on her controller, and she turns her focus back to salvaging her match. “You really are a twat! Get out!”
“I need your help.”
“I don’t care!”
“..I’m sorry.” You mumble, and she scoffs at you, pushing you off of her bed unceremoniously.
You can’t say you blame her, you’re a constant threat to her in that position, it’s too big of a risk. You enjoy bouncing your head and ruining her childish little game far too much.
“Why do you like men?” She counters, and you find yourself stuck for words as you sit on her floor.
It’s the question that’s been floating around your own head for a little while now. You’d never thought about it before. You just were. You had crushes on them all throughout your childhood, you’d had meaningless boyfriends in your teens, you met your bastard ex at university and figured that was it.
You didn’t need to question why you were attracted to them, it just always made sense.
“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, letting out a groan as you grab one of her pillows and bury your head into it.
“What’s going on?” She asks, as she prods at your shoulder with her foot.
“Nothing. I was just—”
“Thinking about women?”
“No!”
It isn’t really a lie, you’re not thinking about women, just the one. The one woman who’s been invading all of your thoughts for the past 30 something days. The one who won’t let you sleep properly at night, who won’t let you focus completely at work.
The one woman who refuses to leave your head for even a second just to let you rest, to let you breathe, to let you remember what life was like, prior to her entering it and recklessly setting fire to everything, before she ran away from you and disappeared into thin air.ﾠﾠ
“I kissed one.” You confess, trying to suffocate yourself with her pillow.
This really does take her by surprise. You can hear her movements on top of the mattress as she turns her game off and pulls her pillow from you with a rather startling urgency. There’s great confusion on her face as she looks at you. She really must think you’re very boring if that’s enough to render her speechless. Imagine her reaction if you admitted to all the other things you did to the Spanish enigma.
“You kissed a woman?” She asks, frowning at you.
You’re not entirely sure why she looks quite so cross about it. You’re not trying to steal her thunder here. You’re not about to start trying to catch up with her numerous exploits of female companions.
“Mhmm.” You mumble in reply, smoothing your hair back from over your face.
“Why? For a man?”
“No! I just wanted to ..I thought it’d be fun.”
“..and ..was it?”
“Mhmm.”
She looks at you with a very distinct air of incredulity. It’s a rather annoying look, weirdly condescending. She doesn’t believe you. Why she thinks you’d bother lying about it, you really do not know. You’re not that desperate for a story to tell her.
It’s almost offensive that she thinks you’re so incapable. You didn’t just kiss a woman. You went down on one, you had your fingers inside of her. You evoked moans from her, she scratched her nails down your back. You’re not some virginal prude. You’re not inept. It can’t be that shocking and inconceivable that you could share a single kiss with someone of the same sex.
You were right, telling your sister was pointless. She’s offered you no assistance and no support. She’s a useless little waste of space and her horrible girlfriend is an advantage-taking little freeloader.
“Thanks, very much! This was really helpful!”
Your words are laced in sarcasm as you slide yourself up away from her bed with a sigh, throwing your middle finger up back in her direction as you exit the room, and slam her bedroom door shut behind you.
You slam your own bedroom door shut behind you too, just in case she hadn’t picked up on how pissed off you are.
You’re not really pissed off with her. She doesn’t know what’s going on inside of your head. You’re pissed off with yourself, for still being all entirely far too consumed with a woman whose name you do not know. Who wouldn’t even bother sharing her profession with you. It isn’t fair.
You collapse headfirst onto your bed and let out a rather guttural groan into your duvet. You’re very frustrated. Your brain’s a mess, your sexuality’s up in the air, and you allowed yourself to picture, far too clearly, your memories of having sex with the gorgeous Spanish woman and now that ache that she’d put inside of you is back.
There’s a knock at your door, and you’re not in the mood. You grab your duvet and burrito yourself in it down to the foot of your bed.
“Y/N?”
You don’t even grace your sister with a response. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a swine.
No, but she really is a swine, as you can hear her turning the doorknob and just walking right into your bedroom anyway. She’s really, unbelievably terrible at reading social cues.
“Do you want to come to Spain with me next week?”
See what I mean? What the hell?
That’s a very serendipitous little offer, though. You didn’t even mention to her that the woman that you kissed was Spanish.
Did you?
She can’t have worked that out by herself. That would be insane. She’s already proved herself to not be the sharpest tool in the shed. That wouldn’t make any sense. What an intriguing little invitation.
It’s very embarrassing that just the mention of the country sends a shiver down the back of your neck. All this instant adrenaline running through you, as if she’ll just be waiting for you there as soon as you land down in a random Spanish airport. Yeah, that seems likely!
Spain’s not the biggest country in the world, but it certainly isn’t small. You’re not going to accidentally stumble into her again on the beach, or in a marketplace. She’s definitely not going to be staying in the same hotel that you’d be in.
It shouldn’t have your heart racing like this. The chances of finding her again are so infinitesimally small, so extremely impossible, so overwhelmingly unlikely ..but you do stand a better chance, if you’re in the right country.
“Next week?” You mumble under the sheets, playing it incredibly cool, as you try to ignore the way your heart’s started thumping at a thousand beats per minute.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were going away with your girlfriend?”
“..we broke up.”
Shit. She would make this all about herself.
You wiggle yourself free of your duvet cocoon and open up your arms for her to crash into you. She might be a useless little swine, but she’s your useless little swine. “Are you okay?”
“Mhmm.” She grumbles, as she starfishes herself on top of you.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You never liked her.”
“That’s not true.” You protest half-heartedly, kissing the side of her head.
“I am fine ..I broke up with her.”
“Well, thank fuck for that!”
“See!” She laughs, rolling off the side of you. “You hated her!”
“She was horrible!”
“You could’ve said.”
“You wouldn’t have left her if I told you to. You’d be getting bloody married to the girl. Twat.” She giggles defencelessly next to you on the bed, because you’re absolutely right. She has always been a contrarian little thing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll find someone else tomorrow.”
“Unbelievable.” You chuckle, shaking your head as you push her away. “You can’t just give me her ticket. Did she not pay for it?”
The embarrassed little look on your sister’s face is all the wordless response you need. Her girlfriend never paid for anything. She really was an advantage-taking little freeloader.
“Where are you going in Spain?”
“Barcelona.”
“Why?”
“Football.”
“Oh! Give me a break!” You exclaim and roll down away from her back to the foot of the bed. “Why are you going all the way to Spain just to watch some football? You can bloody watch it here.”
“It’s the Champions League!” She informs you excitedly, and you can’t even pretend to match her enthusiasm. “Chelsea’s playing Barcelona.”
“Woo.” You respond flatly, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. “You watched them play together today, didn’t you? Why are they so bloody obsessed with each other? Even I know there’s more teams than that.”
“It’s the second leg..” She starts explaining, but none of it means anything to you, and you really just can’t bring yourself to care.
Going all the way out to Spain to be stuck inside a stadium with thousands of screaming fans? What sort of holiday is that? You don’t care about Chelsea’s success or failure. Your sister’s dirty crush on their star-striker is just another one of her many celebrity infatuations that you can’t make any sense of.
You don’t want to sit next to her as she gets herself all hot and bothered watching women run around a football pitch. You don’t even enjoy watching men do it, you have no interest in watching women.
“No. I’m good, thanks.” You tell her, dismissively.
“Please? We can do more than just watch the football.” She offers, pouting pathetically. “You have to come with me! I’ve just been dumped!”
“No, you haven’t!” You remind her, laughing at her useless attempt at guilt tripping. “And you haven’t really left me much time to negotiate with work.”
“You work too hard and you’re due some time off! Your boss isn’t going to refuse you, just bat your eyelashes at him. The filthy pervert.”
“Hm.” You mumble, drumming your fingers over your stomach as you think.
She isn’t wrong, about you working hard, at least. You do like to bury yourself in your work. You enjoy your job, and the harder you work, the more you earn. You haven’t had time off in a while, and your boss is unlikely to say no to you, you are his favourite employee. You don’t agree that it’s because he has a crush on you, you get good results for the company, and attract lucrative clientele.
If batting your eyelashes could get you back in the arms of your Spanish one-night stand more easily, though, you’re not above flirting with him to get you there. You could take a few days of leave, go off to Spain, and possibly run into the woman who’s been living inside of your head.
It’s such an incredibly remote possibility. An absolute stab in the dark chance of finding her. She probably isn’t even in Barcelona. You’re not cultured enough to be able to pin her accent to a specific city. She’s just Spanish. There’s much more places in Spain than just Barcelona. Barcelona isn’t even the capital. Maybe she’s in Madrid, Valencia, Marbella. She could be a party girl living on the island of Ibiza, you had originally found her in a bar. You don’t get a body like hers drinking yourself senseless every night, though.
What if you do find her, and she wants nothing to do with you? There was only ever the promise of one night together. You already pushed your luck by spending the rest of the morning with each other, she doesn’t owe you anything more. It’s unlikely that she’s been spiralling quite as pathetically as you have. She’s not going to be fending off a sexuality migraine.
You undoubtedly won’t have been the absolutely mind-blowing experience to her, that she was to you. She’ll have had sex with countless women. She definitely enjoyed herself with you, that much you’re certainly sure of. You can’t fake every bodily reaction to someone, but the rest of it could have been for show. The display of heartbreak afterwards.
So, maybe she’s an actress, that would certainly make sense. It would explain why she had money, and why she had a company paying for her hotel. Maybe that was her little ‘business trip’. Perhaps she was in London promoting a Spanish movie. Maybe the entire thing was all a performance, and you fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.
Either way, stalking her in Spain would be far too pathetic. Even if she does want you to find her, it’s so desperate and needy of you to go all that way, and if she doesn’t want you to find her, you end up looking insane. Travelling to Spain, to possibly just show up right there on her doorstep? What a terrifying thing for you to do to the woman.
But what if it’s a sign?
Your clueless little sister, inviting you all the way to Spain, with absolutely no idea that the woman you’re harbouring all of these confusing emotions for, lives there? Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s the universe trying to get you back together. Maybe she didn’t fake it, she does feel the same, you’ll find her in Spain and spend the rest of your lives together.
Please. Behave and be so goddamn serious with yourself. You sweet and simple, delusional little fool.
“The woman I kissed was from Spain.” You inform your sister thoughtfully, and she sits herself up on your bed to frown at you.
“You’re still going with that?”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“You’re straight. Straight straight straight.” She points out, with such an incredibly annoying inflection to her voice, it makes you want to bang your head against the wall. “You’re also 26. You were in love with an ugly bastard for 5 years and you’ve never shown an interest in a woman before.”
“I hadn’t met her before.”
“Gayyy!” She giggles, and you give her an almighty clack on her arm with the back of your hand, to wipe the smug little smile from off her face.
“Go with the woman you’re hooking up with tomorrow.” You instruct her. “I’d be a nightmare to watch football with, you’d have to keep explaining things to me.”
“I don’t mind doing that.”
“Do you have no other friends to go with you?” You laugh and she pouts dramatically again, shaking her head. “You’re a lonely little loser!” You tell her with a smile.
“Is that a ‘yes’?” She asks, rolling her eyes at you.
You take in a deep breath and let out a very heavy sigh.
What’s the worst that can happen?
She’s already completely upturned your life. It couldn’t make things any worse for you. Whether you’re able to bump into her or not. You’ll either find yourself some peace, lounging in the Spanish sun, or you’ll be left in exactly the same position you’re in now, but with a much healthier glow to your skin.
You could even find yourself a Spanish man while you’re out there.
Mm.
It’s really not a good sign for your heterosexuality, that that’s no longer an appealing option to you.
“If I can sort it with work,” you reason, “yes. I’ll come to Barcelona with you.”
She lets out an embarrassingly girly squeal and crashes her head against your stomach, with just enough force behind it to manage to leave you winded.
“Twat! I’m making no promises about going to the game, mind. I’m just coming for the tan.”
“Maybe your ‘Spanish lesbian’ is also a fan of football.” She encourages
“Mhmm. I’m pretty sure she is.” You admit contemplatively. “Is that an entry-level of requirement for lesbianism, then?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “Because if that’s the case, I really can stop questioning myself.”
________________
Booking time off work really is as easy as your sister thought it would be. Maybe your boss does have an inappropriate crush on you like she suspects.
She’s very excited about having you for company, and she tries to educate you on all of Chelsea’s history, the players’ statistics, and their personal lives, all before you go on your little trip together. It really does just go right in one ear, and straight back out of the other. You’re not fussed on the facts and figures; it’s not why you’re going.
There’s not enough room in your brain to care about the ins and outs of Sam Kerr and Kristie Mewis’ relationship. You’re not interested in the fact that Chelsea currently have 6 WSL titles, and are going for their fifth-straight one, and you really aren’t bothered that the semifinal’s first leg match against Barcelona ended in a draw.
That is a fair amount of information for you to have retained already despite not being interested. Your sister really has been going on at you, you’re almost a footballing expert.
Touching down late in the morning in Barcelona, you can’t pretend there isn’t a tiny part of you that’s letting yourself get a little carried away with dreaming. You’ve played through enough countless scenarios in your head of running into the Spanish wonder again back in London, of course your mind’s racing with the possibilities in Spain.
You drop your bags off at the hotel your sister’s booked for you both, with the intention of heading back out to explore the city together. It’s a peculiar looking building, bright red, oddly shaped. She really never has been one for subtlety, it’s the perfect sort of accommodation for her.
She insists on wanting to have a look at the Olympic Stadium before the big match, as well as seeing the state of Camp Nou’s renovations, and you really can’t indulge her any more than you already have. You probably will end up joining her for the game tomorrow, but you’re absolutely not walking around the outside of football grounds for fun.
You’ve seen the exterior of Stamford Bridge more than your fair share of times, Wembley, the Emirates. There’s not that much difference between the lot of them, and they’ve never really been your favourite form of modern architecture.
So, you agree to go your separate ways for your first afternoon in the city, you’ll meet back up with each other tonight.
Playing tourist around the streets of Barcelona on your own, is quite an exciting little experience for you. You’re not very worried about getting lost, despite not speaking too much Spanish beyond the basics. Your hotel’s a distinctive looking building, it’s not going to be super difficult to find your own way back to it.
You get a taxi further into the main hub of town and you’re able to mosey about with a rather unrestrained confidence, turning down tight alleyways and strolling aimlessly along multiple cobbled streets. You manage to find yourself being comfortably led astray, by allowing nothing more than just the warm gentle breeze to guide you as it blows against your body.
It turns into a more casual exploration of the more authentic side of Barcelona away from most of the tourist hotspots. You have no real idea where you are, and you’re quite enjoying the small rush of adventure.
A coffee is what you start craving, and you’re not exactly limited by options. Every other building on the peacefully quiet backstreet you’ve found yourself on, seems to be a tiny café. You could start ip dip doo-ing all the individual offerings, but that’s putting far too much consideration into it. You decide to go for the smallest one, the most unassuming. The best coffees always come from the places that aren’t trying to market themselves to any foreign tourists.
A little bell rings out as you step through the door and the barista almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of you, he clearly isn’t used to getting anyone other than his regular patrons. You offer up your friendliest of smiles and a quick ‘hola’ to show him that you mean no harm, and you tap your finger gently on the countertop as you inspect the board behind his head.
Choosing the littlest coffee shop might have been a tiny mistake because absolutely everything on the menu is written in what you can only assume, is a rather confusing variation of Spanish. You can’t back out now, the barista already has an adorably excited look on his face at having someone new in his little shop, you can’t break his heart like that.
You study the chalk written on the board for entirely far too long, in the hope that the words will slowly start translating themselves for you. It doesn’t work, obviously. So, you take a punt at a random one of them, with the rather daring assumption that you haven’t just ordered yourself a troubling batch of Spanish poison.
“¡Dos, por favor!” Comes a call from behind you, from a woman you surely do not know. It’s recognisably ballsy of her, almost rude.
Her words echo in your ears, as time stands still around you. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, with that unmistakable, and entirely enchanting, cocky little tone to it.
You can’t really have found her so easily. Life’s never been that kind.
You can feel your heart clattering around in your chest instantly. Like it’s trying to escape from your ribs, to go off and say hello to hers, all by itself. Your chest’s rising and falling intensely as your breathing shallows and picks up pace.
It can’t be her; it can’t be. This city’s just absolutely full of Spanish women.
She holds out her card right over you to pay, gently resting her arm down onto your shoulder, and you’ve definitely seen that tattoo before. The ‘11’ printed on her wrist.
She’d refused to explain the meaning when you’d asked her about it. She wouldn’t give you the backstory behind any of her tattoos. It was too personal; you weren’t allowed to know.
She thought you might have really fallen for each other if you both started sharing too much information about yourselves, and you only had the single night to spend together.
“It would be too painful.” She had reasoned with you.
That was very clever thinking on her part. She absolutely managed to prevent you from having an awful lot of heartache and suffering about the whole thing, by letting you know absolutely nothing about her..ﾠ
You still can’t bring yourself to turn around and look. Even though you know it must be her. It can’t be likely that there’s multiple Spanish women that have branded themselves with that specific number on that specific part of their body. Surely to god.
“..gracias.” You manage to choke out very shakily, in little more than a whisper, still facing forward.
You have to turn around at some point. You can’t very well drink your coffee on the tiny little counter right in front of the barista when you can’t even have a conversation with him. Just staring at him, silently, neither of you able to speak each other’s language? That would freak him out! You’ll find yourself back on a plane headed for England before you know it, with a restraining order hanging over your head.
Grow up and turn around. Just turn around.
It’s her. It has to be her.
The barista accepts the woman’s payment method with a familiar little smile back at her, and she carefully retracts her arm from over your shoulder slowly. You can smell her perfume on her wrist as it wafts back past the side your face. You recognise the scent, and you find yourself following it round you like a lost little puppy, your knees almost giving way beneath you.
You didn’t accidentally stumble upon her at the beach. It’s not a Spanish marketplace. She definitely isn’t staying at the same hotel that you’re in.
You’ve found her, while getting yourself lost. In the tiniest little café, on an unnamed, tumbleweed backstreet, right in the very heart of Barcelona.
There’s a wide smile of disbelief on her face. Which is hopefully an indication, that she isn’t terrified of you being here, she hadn’t faked her feelings, and she, much like you are with her, is a little overwhelmed to see you.
“Hi.” Is all that drops out of your mouth, as your mind goes blank at the sight of her.
“Hi.” She says back, with the exact same breathlessness as you, her voice cracking ever so slightly.
“….Hi.”
“You’ve already said that.” She reminds you, and she’s clearly able to bring herself back to her senses far more quickly than you are, because there’s that charming little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips again.
You’re not really sure which one of you instigated it, you both just sort of ended up colliding into each other, gripping at the material of each other’s clothes. It’s a very desperate hug. Even more so than the one you shared outside of the hotel elevator. You melt into each other, merging yourselves together like two corresponding puzzle pieces.
It’s an embrace, holding not just the 12 hours of curious devotion between you, but over 30 days' worth of frenzied yearning. It has you both clinging to each other with everything you have, as it defies everything you came to accept as truly achievable, that heartbreaking belief in you, that this reunion would never really happen.
It’s an impossible hug, and it’s one that neither of you want to pull away from.
“What are you doing here?” You mumble against her, clinging to her shirt as she buries her head in the crook of your neck.
“I think it should be me asking that question.” She tells you, chuckling. “I have far more right to be in Barcelona than you do.”
“This is where you live?” You ask. “You’re from Barcelona?”
“Mhmm.” She murmurs. “Mollet del Vallès.”
There’s really no reason for that to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. It’s only a place name. It’s a good job she didn’t spend much time speaking Spanish to you back in London, you really would have been like putty in her hands.
“What are you doing here?” She questions.
“I thought you might want your sweatshirt back.” You joke casually, and she loosens her grip on you slightly so she can face you.
“Do you not want it anymore?” She asks, furrowing her brow as she studies your face.
There’s a clear look of uncertainty in her eyes, a small sense of worry, and you do feel mildly guilty for teasing her. “I was hoping ..maybe I could swap it for another.” You smile. “It doesn’t really smell like you anymore.”
She doesn’t allow you to feel guilty for too long. That small air of arrogance that’s always threatening to escape her, does so, in a predictable little smirk at the implication.
“You’ve been wearing it that much?” She asks you proudly, and you push your tongue against the inside of your mouth as you roll your eyes at her typical display of cockiness. She carefully closes the small distance between you both again, gently pressing herself flush against you. “Does it smell of you?” She whispers in your ear, sending a ripple of goosebumps down the side of your neck.
“Mhmm.”
“Mm. Maybe I could be persuaded to make a trade, then.”
She’s impossible for you to resist when she’s like this. It’s still an intriguing talent she has, evoking such a physical reaction from you, by doing hardly anything at all. A quiet little whisper in your ear and your body’s immediately burning up next to her? You’re still so incredibly tragic.
You might no longer be certain of your sexuality, but maybe it really doesn’t matter. Why do you need to understand it? Why does it need an explanation? No one else in the world is important at all when she’s standing here in front of you. No one else would ever really stand a chance. How could you ever be interested in anyone else, when you know that this woman right here exists? How could any other person ever truly compare?
There’s a desire in you that’s clearly also felt in her, when she moves herself to look at you. It’s written all over her face, the twinkle in her beautiful eyes, and the fact that her lips are so incredibly close to yours.
You lean in, and so does she, but it’s like something quickly shoots through her body, as though she’s suddenly being brought back into the room. She does a quick scan of the café, and she collects herself before she lets you both get carried away.
“We can’t kiss in here.” She tells you quietly, and you frown at her as you pull yourself back.
“Why not?” You ask, doing your own quick search to try and find what she saw to put her off.
No one seems too interested in you, though there’s admittedly a couple of people discreetly watching her. She is very beautiful, so it’s not surprising, but you do sort of wish they’d stop their gawking. This gorgeous woman is here with you, and you’re not really in the mood for sharing.
“There’s not another bloody homophobe about, is there?”
“No!” She laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I don’t know, actually. I haven’t asked around, but we just ..can’t kiss in here.”
It’s curious. She didn’t have any issues kissing you in front of people before. Spanish people are very famously more physically affectionate with each other than British people are. So, it seems unlikely that the two of you would turn too many heads just by kissing.
“Okay..” you accept reluctantly, pouting a little at the rejection, “so ..should we just quickly nip outside to do it then, or?” You joke cheekily, pointing to the door with your thumb.
She chuckles with you, resting her forehead to your shoulder. “You’re still as straight as ever!” She grins, as she wraps you back up in her arms.
It’s quite nice just losing yourself in her embrace. Burying your head in her neck and holding her tight against you. Having her arms back around you, her perfume overwhelming your senses. The rest of the coffee shop fades into a blur with her in your arms. She’s comforting, reassuring. She’s real, and she’s here.
“Ale!” Is called out by the barista not a minute later, and you’d have very happily paid it no attention at all. The immediate flinch from the woman that you’re holding, in response to it, however, tells you that you might have just found out a very valuable piece of information indeed.
You repeat it under your breath, as she pulls away from you and goes to collect your coffees from the counter.
She says a quiet ‘moltes gràcies’ to the barista, and she narrows her eyes with a small grimace as she returns to you. There’s still a clear reluctance in her to give too much away, she’s not entirely grateful to her little coffee friend for unknowingly revealing slightly more to you than just her first initial.
Ale. It must still be short for something, you figure. You start reeling off name possibilities at her in quick succession. Alessia, Alex, Alexis, Alexa. You’re like a dog with a bone, because she makes it clear that you’re getting closer, but she still shakes her head at every guess.
It’s very frustrating, as she offers you absolutely no assistance with your guessing, but it can’t be as convoluted a mission as trying to discover Rumpelstiltskin’s ridiculous name. Thankfully, it isn’t. It’s on only your 5th attempt that you cause the same small flinch in her, and she smiles softly at you before looking down very quickly. You’ve struck gold.
Alexia.
It’s a beautiful name. Your favourite name, you’ve decided. It rolls off your tongue with so much ease, you want to repeat it again and again.
“Now you know too much.” She sighs whimsically, handing you your coffee as she walks past you to collect her bag from the table she was previously sitting at.
She gestures for you to follow her and leads you to a quieter area away from the other customers right at the back of the shop. She pulls out your chair for you to sit down, and you can’t not smile at the tiny act of chivalry. She really is very sweet. It’s a shame that she won’t let you kiss her.
You reveal your own name to her, as she joins you on the other side of the table and she repeats it back to you quietly. Whether it’s the sexy Spanish accent, or just the fact that it’s her saying it to you for the first time, you’re not entirely sure, but your heart skips a few beats after hearing it.
“Now we both know too much.” She tells you, and she takes a small sip of her coffee.
There’s the tiniest level of nervousness, that blankets itself over you both as you sit together. It’s a little absurd, you’ve seen this woman naked. She’s seen you naked. It isn’t technically a first date between you, neither of you asked the other to be here, but you both clearly have the little jitters of being on one, coursing through your bodies.
You find yourself just watching her a few times as you talk over your drinks together. You still can’t really believe you found her so quickly. So, you don’t want to risk taking your eyes off of her for too long, in case she just disappears into thin air while you’re not looking.
She’s also the most beautiful sight in the café. So, why would you want to waste your time looking at anything else?
You’re not being very discreet about your staring at all, and neither is she, really. You keep exchanging shy smiles over your cups as you catch each other looking. Both of you blushing and quickly averting your eyes as they meet, and then gradually repeating the whole thing all over again. You’ve definitely caught her gazing a few more times than she’s caught you. So, maybe she’s even more tragic than you are.
The little coffee you ordered by chance, is Alexia’s usual order, so she tells you. It’s not the most life-changing piece of information for her to share with you, but it’s something else for you to know about her, and you’re absolutely sure to make a note of it. It probably keeps you on an even tally too, she already knows that you enjoy drinking a tequila.
You’re still not allowed to kiss each other, for whatever obscure reason, but she has reached for you hand under the table. Interlacing your fingers together isn’t a new thing between you both, and neither are those tingles that immediately shoot up through your arm at even the most innocent of touches from her. She really does have an incredible effect on you, it should probably be more terrifying to you than it is.
“Why are you really here?” She asks after a moment, as she strokes her thumb over your knuckles.
“My sister dragged me here.” You answer. “It’s a very important football match tomorrow, apparently.”
“The one against Chelsea?” She asks, with an unmistakable look of interest in her eyes, that has you rolling your own lightly back at her.
“I think she’d say against Barcelona,” you point out with a sigh, “but yeah, that one.”
You had managed to work out that Alexia was probably a bit of a football fan. She has a little stick figure tattoo of a footballer on her leg, the outline of a baby being given a ball on her back, and you have exceptional detective skills. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.
So, it isn’t a surprise that she’d be excited by your footballing interests, but it is unfortunate that you really don’t share the same passion for it as her.
“Unless you’re a very daring rebel,” you start, “I assume you’ll be supporting Barcelona tomorrow?”
“Mhmm,” she murmurs, with a small twinkle in her eye, “and you’ll be supporting Chelsea?”
“Not emphatically,” you admit with a smile, “but I’ll be in that section of the crowd, yeah.”
“You don’t really care about football at all, do you?” She asks knowingly, with an edge to her smirk that’s intriguing, as you shake your head at her in apology. “Maybe you should introduce me to your sister instead, then!” She winks, and you very quickly remove your hand back out of her hold.
“Don’t.” You tell her. “Please. Don’t even joke about it.”
It’s admittedly a little cute that she finds herself quite so hilarious for her disgusting little joke, but you are very unamused by the idea. If the childish look of mischief on her face wasn’t so entirely endearing to you, you may very well have got up and left her right then and there.
She rests the back of her hand on your thigh with her palm outstretched, and you roll your eyes at her before placing your own hand back into it. She raises it to her lips to place a lingering kiss to your fingers, leaving you with the faintest of blushes across your cheeks. So, maybe you can find it in yourself to forgive her just this once.
“I have a sister.” She reveals. “Her name's Alba. She’s a few years younger than me. I’m the older sibling, like you are.”
“Uh oh!”
“What?”
“Well, now I really do know too much.” You tell her with a wink.
“My sister’s Emily.” You inform her rebalancing the tally of facts you keep sharing with each other. “Though she’d kill you for calling her that. I think she’d change her name completely if she didn’t think it would upset our Dad so much. She just goes by Em these days ..so ..she probably would have enjoyed your silly little initial idea, actually,” you admit thoughtfully, frowning a little at the realisation, “maybe I really should introduce you to her instead..”
“Por favor.” She says quietly, quickly shaking her head at you and raising your hand to her lips once again. “Don’t even joke about it.”
“Will you be going to the game tomorrow?” You ask, a not-so-subtle attempt at finding out if you might be getting to see each other again so soon. “We’d be like star-crossed lovers in the stands. Very Romeo and Juliet of us!”
“I don’t know that we want to be comparing ourselves to those two! I don’t remember it ending very well for them.” She reminds you, narrowing her eyes at you as her intriguing little smirk returns to her face. “And no. I’m working tomorrow, I won’t be in the stands.”
“Boo. You can’t be that big of a fan, then!” You tut in disappointment. “I’ve come all this way to support my team!”
“Your team!” She chuckles. “Will you be there in a Chelsea shirt?”
“Absolutely not. I’ll be in very neutral colours.”
She smiles, nibbling at the inside of her mouth as she lowers her eyes to look at the table. She knocks her hand gently on it a few times before turning her attention back to you. It’s impossible to know what she’s thinking, but she’s definitely debating something silently in her head.
“I could give you a Barcelona one?” She suggests a little cautiously, and you have to smile at the idea. Your sister would certainly disown you if you took one of those back home with you. It’d be worth it, just to see the look on her face.
“You have a very weird habit of offering me your clothes.” You tell her slyly.
“Mhmm. I really like seeing you in them.” She admits sultrily, and your breath catches as her eyes darken looking at you. “I think I have one in my bag, if you want it.”
It’s a surprisingly sexy little offer, and you do quite like having her clothes on your body. It’s hard not to laugh at her peculiarity, though, even your sister isn’t that crazy of a football fan.
“You just ..carry it around with you at all times?” You ask, furrowing your brow as you chuckle at her. “That’s really weird of you! Do you sell them? You go round offering them to unsuspecting tourists? Is that your job? Is it a fake? Are yo—”
“You need to stop trying to know things about me.” She interrupts softly, shaking her head as she chuckles.
“And just ..blindly accept that you always have a football shirt on you?”
“Mhmm.” She giggles, and you narrow your eyes at her.
She really is very curious.
She pulls it out from her little duffle bag from under the table and hands it to you with a gleam in her eye as you take it from her. You push your empty coffee cup to the side and spread the shirt out over the table to study it.
They’re not exactly your colours, but you can probably make them work. You hold it up against you to check that it will suit, and she bites her lip as she watches you. There’s a name printed on the back of it, you realise, and you smile a little as you read it in your head.
“Don’t most adults keep it blank? Or just go for their favourite player?” You ask smirking. You turn the shirt around and rest it over yourself, and she gently bites at the skin around her fingernail as you trace the lettering over your chest. “I thought it was just little kids that got their own name on the back. Do you quite like pretending you’re also on the team?”
“Mhmm ..maybe.” She mumbles, stifling a giggle as she rests her head in her hand. She smiles at you fondly, as she continues gazing at your little shirt inspection.
“That’s really very cute of you.” You tell her, placing the shirt back on the table and leaning over it as you trace your fingers over the number. “Why ‘11’?”
“Hm?”
“11. You have it tattooed on you. You’ve chosen it for your shirt.” You point out. “Is it your birthday? You were born on the 11th? You were born in November? Born on New Year’s Day? Is it just your lucky number? Is it—”
“Stop, trying to know things about me.” She interrupts again quietly, reaching for your hand and meeting you across the table to rest her forehead to yours.
“But I want to know things about you.” You whisper. “I want to know when your birthday is. I’d like to know your surname. I want to know what you do for a living, how you got those scars on your knee, how much you weighed when you were born. The name of your first crush, where you went to school, the meaning behind your tattoos. I want to know each and every incredible milestone you’ve ever achieved, and all the unfathomably boring things that you got up to in between each of them. I want to know every single detail about you, and your life, Alexia. I really, really want to know you.”
It’s quite the thing for you to confess to the poor woman after only meeting her on two separate occasions, but the way her grip on your hand kept tightening as you spoke, the slight clenching of her jaw, and the fact that her lips are dangerously close to yours once again, probably means you haven’t just completely scared her off with it.
“We’d have to spend a lifetime together, trying to learn all of that about each other.” She whispers to you, her lips lightly brushing against yours.
“Is that a proposal?” You chuckle, gently bumping your nose to hers. Your eyes trail to her lips, and it’s really very hard to not act on your impulses. “Am I really not allowed to kiss you in h—“
It seems that you are allowed to kiss her in here, when it’s right at the back where no one’s watching. Or she’s allowed to kiss you, at least, because there's no doubt which one of you instigated this. Her lips move against yours, and your pulse reacts to her immediately.
It's a kiss harbouring an awful lot of emotion, for two people who still hardly know each other. It's slow, passionate, careful, and every confusing little worry that's been plaguing your brain since the last time you kissed, instantly melts away into nothing as her tongue slips back into your mouth. You're the only two people in the world when her hand's pulling you in by the back of your neck, and you’re tugging her closer by grabbing at her shirt.
It’s probably a good job she did decide to take you further away from everybody else, because it doesn’t stay an entirely family-friendly kiss for very long. It’s not wildly inappropriate, you’re not animals, and the bastard table’s in the way of you doing too much with each other. Thank goodness it is, because it’s been over a month, after all, and you’re both clearly quite a bit needy. You really can’t be doing that in public.
“I’ve missed you.” She murmurs against your lips, pulling you impossibly further into her.
“I really missed you too.”
Hours feel like minutes, in Alexia’s company, as you spend the afternoon roaming Barcelona together. She still refuses to tell you everything about herself. You don’t learn her surname, and she still won’t tell you what she does for a living, but you do both share other things about yourselves with each other.
It doesn’t matter how insignificant any of the details probably are. Every single one of them still feels important to you, because it’s another little glimpse into her. Every single fact, story and secret that she shares, is what makes Alexia, who she is, and she was absolutely right, you do find yourself falling more for her, with all of the little things you keep discovering.
She eventually agrees to tell you her birthday. Which makes the whole ‘11’ obsession even more intriguing to you, because the 4th of February ’94 does absolutely nothing to clear that little mystery up. It does tell you that the man in his twenties that you were looking for the night you first met, didn’t even turn out to be a woman in her twenties at all. She turned 30 nearly 3 months ago. She’s absolutely decrepit!
She gives you a tiny tour on your stroll together, bringing some clarity to the Catalonian streets you’ve been carelessly walking down. Explaining the extra confusing writing on the menu board, and casually revealing to you that she can speak 3 different languages. So, your drunken boast about your GCSE level German, probably wasn’t very impressive to her at all.
You’re both approached a fair few times by people asking for directions. You can never understand what it is that they’re saying, and you're not really of much use to them just standing there being awkward. So, you hang off a little to the side taking in your surroundings, waiting for her to help them out, before she excitedly returns back to you. You’re not at all bothered by the interruptions. Your patience with it keeps earning you a quick discreet kiss from her as she wraps her arms around your waist, and you return the same display of affection, for her unrelenting kindness to strangers.
Alexia insists that she isn’t a tour-guide, and she’s also not an actress. So, you are very slowly whittling down the options of what it is she could possibly do for a living. She asks you about your own career, which is incredibly cheeky of her, considering. So, you simply refuse to tell her.
Maybe it’s that competitive streak in you, but if she wants to play it secretive, you can absolutely match her for it. You only agree to give her the corresponding facts to the one’s she’s willing to give to you. That way, if she’s falling for you with each new piece of information the same way that you’re doing for her, at least you’re both crashing down for each other, at exactly the same speed.
There’s slightly less careless abandon with being too physical with each other, walking hand in hand around Barcelona. It’s arguably tame compared to how you both were back in London. Whether it’s the lack of alcohol that’s keeping her more reserved, or maybe just because it isn’t yet nighttime, you’re not entirely sure.
You’re still stealing kisses as you waltz along the streets, but you’re not pushing each other up against the walls of buildings out in the open. Maybe that would be a little indecent of you both. You’re pulling each other down quiet alleyways, instead, pressing yourselves together in secret coves.
It doesn’t feel entirely necessary, the streets you’re exploring aren’t particularly packed with people, but you don’t question it too much. You’ve really just missed having her lips on yours, and whatever capacity she feels comfortable doing it in, you’re more than willing to oblige.
You couldn’t really care less who sees you kissing her. You all but forget that they exist when she's pulling you into her and leaving her mark on you. It is arguably far more exciting, however, trying to be sneaky about it with each other. You're both almost actively searching for places that you're unlikely to get caught in. Finding hidden areas and seeing how much you can get away with together.
Your hands find their way under her shirt on more than one occasion. She really does have the most beautiful body. She jokingly reprimands you for it each time, but she doesn’t really discourage you from doing it. She does continually tease you, for your ever-decreasing signs of straightness, though.
Each newly shared kiss with Alexia, is somehow even better than the last. Whether she’s passionately throwing caution to the wind with you, by kissing down your neck, or trapping your bottom lip between her teeth. Even when she’s just being painfully frustrating, by giving you the quickest of pecks before skipping away. Every single one of them still sets your soul on fire, and they still manage to pull all the air right out from your lungs, every single time.
Alexia waits with you, as it turns to evening, on a bench by the road for your taxi back to your hotel. You try not to let the mild burning in your eyes ruin your final moments with her, but you can feel yourself starting to break.
She pulls out the football shirt from her bag again and holds it out for you to take with a shy smile. “I really hope you enjoy the game tomorrow.” She says, and you try to allow yourself to chuckle a little while nodding your head.
“Mhmm. Thank you, I’ll try.” You tell her, throwing her shirt over your shoulder and quickly rubbing the corner of your eyes. “I’ll have to get Em’s permission to wear this, first. She’ll be very unimpressed with me.”
“Just don’t let her burn it!”
“I won't.” You promise, interlacing your fingers with hers and placing a kiss to the back of her hand. “The other fans might throw tomatoes at it, mind!”
She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple, and there’s that familiar sense of dread in your stomach, as you watch the road, knowing your time together is quickly running out again.
You catch her gazing at you as you turn to her, and maybe there’s a little butterfly or two in your stomach as well, at the way her eyes are watching over you. “Are you okay?” You ask.
“Mhmm. You haven’t even gone yet,” she tells you smiling, tucking your hair back behind your ear, “and I already can’t wait to see you again.”
“You’re really that certain that you will? You’re still sure you don’t want us to swap numbers?”
“We’ve already bumped into each other a couple of times now. I have no doubt we’ll manage it again.”
It’s nowhere near as reassuring to you as it seems to be to her, but there’s a certain level of romance in her conviction in fortuity. Maybe you are beginning to believe in the possible existence of fate, though you're not completely enamoured by continuing to leave your encounters with Alexia, entirely up to chance. She cradles your head in her hands and gently wipes the tears that are threatening to spill from your eyes with her thumbs.
"I'll never forgive you," you warn her weakly, "if this ends up being it for us."
"Trust me." Is all she asks of you, and she pulls you back into her, resting her head against yours as she runs her fingers over your back.
It feels like an unspoken promise from her, to keep at least trying to find you, and there's a power in her certainty that has you desperate to believe in it too.
It’s still a little hard for you both to say goodbye to each other, but she’s already told you she has a busy day tomorrow, and you can’t really bring her back to your hotel when your sister’s already sharing the bed with you. You share another long hug, and a few more secret kisses before your taxi pulls up, and you finally hesitantly agree to part ways. She places a kiss to your cheek, by way of goodbye as you clamber yourself into the back of the car, setting off without her once again.
You try to reassure yourself, on the taxi ride back to your hotel. You've ran into each other twice, in two separate countries, by pure dumb luck. It can't be impossible for it to happen again. Maybe there’s something connecting you both, an invisible string, an intangible little bungee cord, that's making sure that neither of you is ever able to truly stray too far away from the other. Alexia has ‘no doubt’ that you’ll manage another meeting again, and you take some comfort in knowing, that you still have 2 days left in the city, to do exactly that.
________________
Collapsing back down to lay on the bed in your hotel room, you have a sneaking suspicion, that you’ll have a far better night’s sleep than you’ve managed to have in a long time, tonight. Your mind isn’t spiralling with confusion anymore, and there’s no longer a gaping hole inside of your chest.
There’s an excitement in you, a warmth. An encouraging little hope that you really have found something special. Someone special. That once-in-a-lifetime connection with another person who’s also trapped in this world along with you.
It definitely isn’t the someone you expected to intertwine your soul with. Any younger version of yourself would be very confused about where she’s ended up. It isn’t a connection you want to keep questioning either. It’s not one you really have any doubts on the existence of at all. She’s just it for you, and maybe it’s okay that that’s all you can say to justify it.
You don’t need to be attracted to other women; you don’t really care about your weakening attraction to men. It just makes sense when you’re together with her. There’s no confusion, no uncertainty, there’s no warning alarms ringing out in your head. There’s just Alexia, and the existence of anything and anybody else, will always pale in comparison to her.
Your sister arrives a little after you, plodding back into the hotel room, clearly wiped from whatever individual Spanish adventure she got up to today, and she flops herself into one of the armchairs with a very heavy sigh.
“Long day?” You ask.
“Mhmm.” She mumbles, frowning at you suspiciously. “You look very happy?”
“I am very happy!” You tell her with a smile. You excitedly roll over and reach down the side of the bed to retrieve your souvenir of the day from its hiding spot. You launch it right into your sister’s face and she grunts a little under the impact. “Will you hate me, if I wear that tomorrow?” You ask, trying to contain your newfound enthusiasm.
She pulls it off from where it’s wrapped itself around her head, and she gives you a very unimpressed look. “You bought a Barcelona shirt?” She asks, clearly disgusted with your choice of fashion.
“I was given it.”
“By?”
“..a woman.” You tell her, gently biting your bottom lip as you smile up at the ceiling.
“Mm.” She mutters with a sigh, moving to join you over on the bed. She thwacks the shirt down over your stomach and lets out a huff next to you. “Well, at least she has good taste.” She tells you. “Or she’s just a bit basic.”
That’s a little rude ..and very confusing.
“What do you mean?”
“Going for the best player on the team.”
That’s less rude ..but even more confusing.
“..What do you mean?”
“Are you joking?” She asks, with a very clear tone of annoyance to her voice. She grabs the shirt and thwacks you with it again. “A woman gives you a shirt with a name on the back, and you don’t even care enough to ask who the bloody player is?”
Maybe your head is racing again. That’s incredibly confusing. It really doesn’t make any sense. It’s her name, not a player’s name. Maybe they just share a name. It’s not an incredibly rare name, that’s not impossible.
Your Alexia has a mild interest in football, she’s not playing it professionally. Who would keep that a secret? She’s reticent with sharing information, that’s for certain, but she’s not a bloody liar, and she told you she wouldn’t even be there tomorrow.
No.
She said that she was working tomorrow, and that she wouldn’t be in the stands with you.
Your mind has started racing, and so has your little heart.
“What. do. you. mean?” You repeat slowly, trying to keep yourself calm.
“Alexia Putellas.” She tells you, very nonchalantly, and your brain all but short circuits at the name.
“Who is Alexia Putellas?”
She thwacks you again with your shirt in dismay, and you’ve really had just about enough of being treated like a piñata. You sit up, pull it from her hands and thwack it across her face as you ask her to explain herself.
“She’s a footballer, for fuck’s sake!” She shouts, rubbing the palm of her hand against her eyelid. “She’s Spanish. She plays for Barcelona!” She pulls out her phone, to search for her Instagram and bonks you on the head with it. “That’s Alexia Putellas, you twat.”
You look at the profile, and the hotel room blurs around you. You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, hear the blood pumping around in your ears.
Your Alexia, is Alexia Putellas.
She doesn’t sell shirts for a living, she’s not an actress nor a tour-guide, she really isn’t even a spy. Though she’d probably make a pretty good one, the way she never gave this piece of information away.
Your unexplainable connection with another human being, and she plays football for a living? Clearly very well too, as 2 of her pinned photos have her holding a massive award for it right next to her face. Every other post on her page is about football. She’s Barcelona, through and through.
She’s verified, she has over 3 million followers. She’s been out here, existing on the world’s stage, all this time, without you ever knowing. Your own sister’s been privy to more information about her than you have.
She was in London a month ago for football, according to her Instagram posts. The cryptic little ‘business trip’ she was on, was a quarter-final match against Arsenal. An embarrassingly easy win for Barcelona, she must have been out celebrating it when she found you in that club.
She was back in London again last week for football. You could have seen her then. You missed a chance at an earlier reunion with her, because you refused to go with your little sister to watch her in the first leg against Chelsea.
Your breathing’s very shallow as you scroll through the endless stream of photos. Your mind is absolutely spinning. It’s all a bit much to take in. You lock your sister’s phone and place it back on her chest as you try to collect yourself. You really don’t want to risk learning too much about her. You want her to tell you everything, you don’t want to find it all out behind her back.
You’ve been waiting with bated breath all afternoon, savouring every little piece of information she’s given you, and your smart-arse little sister could probably tell you loads about her if you asked. Lots of the details you’re so desperate to know about Alexia are probably only a quick google search away, but you feel guilty enough just knowing her surname without her having been the one to tell it to you.
She hadn’t been super willing to even give you her first, and no wonder! It’s the single name that’s plastered on her shirt, it’s the name she’s known mononymously as. She’s women’s football’s answer to Beyoncé, Adele.
Of course, she didn’t want to kiss you in front of people in the café, out there on the streets. It’ll be why she only kissed your cheek in front of the taxi driver. She probably is a little liar, because she almost certainly wasn’t giving directions to people when they approached you both. She presumably isn’t old friends with the two men who wanted a photo with her. They all just know who she is. The whole damn city of Barcelona knows exactly who she is.
Maybe she was testing you, waiting for you to crack, to confess to knowing everything about her. How couldn’t you know about her? How unbelievably rude of you.
She’s a celebrity footballer, and you’ve treated her like she’s one of the most normal people in the world. You’ve flirted with her, teased her, kissed her, slept with her, and she’s welcomed it all with that adorable little smirk.
So, maybe she’s liked that you didn’t know, that you really had no idea about who she was at all. You can’t have had any preconceived thoughts about the woman when you’ve had no prior knowledge about her. Perhaps it’s been part of the fun for her, just being with someone who really couldn’t care about the noise surrounding her. Maybe that’s the reason she didn’t really want you knowing about it. Her fame could have changed things, pushed you away.
It wouldn’t have. She’d have to do something intrinsically evil to frighten you off. Especially now, after the afternoon you’ve just spent together, learning more, and falling deeper for her. She’s still just the woman that baffled you with a lime in a nightclub, wound you up by kissing someone else. Rescued you from a night of undeniable regret, and turned it into the start of something magical.
She’s your once-in-a-lifetime connection, your confusing, and frustrating, perfect one-night stand companion. She’s the woman that's turned your whole world on its head, and it just turns out, that she quite likes to kick a ball around, with a bunch of other women for a living, and people from all over the world, have been watching her excel at it for years.
She has to know that you’ll have found out already, you’ve told her your sister’s football obsessed. Even if your sister didn’t know who she is, there’s bound to be other people wearing her name on their backs tomorrow. Probably not many of them were given their shirts by the woman herself. There’ll be even less of them with one of her sweatshirts in their bag.
Maybe she’s excited for you to connect all the pieces together. Giving you her shirt was far too bold a move for her to still not want you to know. She’d have just talked you out of going to the game, if that was the case.
She wants you there, being a very daring rebel, with her name boldly resting between your shoulder blades, rooting for her and Barcelona, right in the middle of the Chelsea fans. You’ll probably stand out like a sore thumb with your red stripes in the sea of blue you’ll be standing in, and maybe that’s exactly what she’s hoping for. She had ‘no doubt’ that you'd see each other again, after all.
“She’s the best player on the team?” You ask your sister dreamily, collapsing back down on the bed and clinging to the shirt in your hand as you hold it against your body.
“Mhmm. Best in the world.” She tells you, and there’s that exhilarating little thrill shooting right up through your body.
“Oof. I’ll tell Sam Kerr you said that!”
She scoffs to the side of you and flicks your forehead playfully. You lift Alexia’s shirt, holding it out in between your fingers to study her name again in disbelief.
You're falling in love, with the ‘best in the world,’ and she seems to be falling for you, too. A little nobody from London, who’s spent the past month pining after who she thought, was a little nobody from Spain. She’s once again turned your whole damn world on its head.
She really is absolutely everything.
“I will hate you if you wear that thing tomorrow.” Your sister warns you, as she hits the shirt with the back of her hand. “I offered you a Chelsea shirt and you gagged at it!”
“I’ve not gagged at this one.” You point out with a grin. “It’s a shame you won’t be friends with me tomorrow.” You tell her, resting the shirt back out over your torso.
“You can’t wear it!”
“I bloody can, and I very much will.” You inform her. “You should rethink wearing a Chelsea shirt. You’ll be very disappointed when we beat you tomorrow.”
“‘We?’ You really are a twat. You’re Barcelona’s biggest fan all of a sudden?”
“Too bloody right, I am!” You tell her decidedly, hugging the shirt against you. “I’ve always loved football, me.”
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Have you seen Dungeon Meshi? Laos is such a monsterfucker I can’t get over it. He asks one of his companions if it felt good to be caught by the tentacle-vine plant monster. He waxed poetic about how cool animal-hybrid monsters are. (I’m sorry if you don’t like a show or this feels irrelevant to your blog, but also I can’t tell my friends ‘hey I like this character because I also think it would feel good to be caught by the tentacle monster’)
Anyway he’s how I imagine this blog’s audience would approach an IRL dungeon expedition
Sorry to take this way too seriously, I mean no ill will. But I've been a MASSIVE fan of dungeon meshi for... oof, almost 7 years apparently, It's a perfect storm of everything I love with fantastic writing and characterization, and I don't think I could disagree with that more. I think you missed a primary running gag of the series. He keeps saying lines that, if anyone else said them would be sexual, but the people around him know he's just a super obsessed wildlife researcher. He does not want to fuck monsters, that's kinda the entire point.
Like you need to understand that some biologists will happily and unnecessarily lick poison, get bitten, and pick up dangerous things without hesitation. It's not that they get off to poison play, it's that they love the topic so much that it's their life and they want to know every aspect. When he's zealously asking what it's like for the vine monster to grapple and stab you with seeds, he's saying that because he's just that into learning and wants the firsthand experience! He's here because he doesn't want to just read about his special interest, he wants to live it, be PART of the ecosystem!
...actually, incredibly relevant spoilers below for a monster later on (chapter 58-60, so likely end of this season or start of the next)
They later find straight-up succubi. Chilchuck talking about how they turn into your perfect match, you ALWAYS have to fight them as a pair or you're just screwed because of irresistible magic charming powers.
One finds Laios alone...and he's completely unaffected, immediately chokes it and goes to kill it without any issue. The only hesitation is a bit of embarrassment that "Oh no, it misinterpreted my feelings as attraction, if the party finds this it'll lead to a HUGE misunderstanding. This could ruin my friendships, I need to immediately kill it and hide the body." That gives it enough time to convince him "hey, it's impossible to resist a succubus, so obviously I'm not a succubus right?" And it works because he knows that yes, nobody can resist a succubus charm. Except apparently him.
Even trying again by combining his thoughts with his all time favorite monster didn't daze him like it did the others. It had to convince him that it could turn him INTO a monster, and that everyone else was ok with it too, to get him to hesitantly submit to being drained. They didn't have to reason with marcielle or chilchuck, but lust just didn't work with Laios, not as a person or as a monster.
It's like how nobody gets panty shots except Senshi. it's a subversion joke. There are quite a few in this series, especially ones centered on Laios.
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Kuai Liang is not "nice"
This is technically the second part of my character analysis for Kuai Liang, so be sure to check out the first part focusing on Kuai Liang's personality, goals and his relationship with his brothers and Harumi.
This part will focus on how Kuai Liang treats other characters and upon closer inspection, the image of the "sweet wholesome guy everyone adores" that the fandom crafted for him starts to crumble very quickly.
Kitana and Mileena:
Mileena: My bond with Kitana can't be broken.
Scorpion: I'd once thought the same of mine with Bi-Han.
Why exactly is Kuai Liang trying to make Mileena doubt Kitana's loyalty to her? We have all seen Kitana's tower ending. She has gone out of her way to secure her sister's reign, she defends Mileena fiercely and is genuinely worried about her. It upsets her to see other members of the court conspiring against her sister. Kitana is nothing but loyal to Mileena, in a way Kuai Liang was never loyal to Bi-Han.
"I'm disappointed in my brother's decisions and therefore everyone else's siblings suck too." That's not a healthy or mature mindset. He's projecting his own family issues onto Mileena and Kitana, who actually share a wholesome bond, and tries to create distrust and dispute where there is none. And why? Out of jealousy? It's hard to tell, but this was uncalled for.
It's particularly awful because Kitana is actually trying to help fix Kuai Liang's relationship with his own brother while it seems Kuai Liang is trying to ruin hers with Mileena.
Kitana: You've broken Kuai Liang's heart.
Sub-Zero: It won't be the only part of him I damage.
Kitana: I understand congratulations are in order.
Scorpion: How did news of my marriage reach Outworld?
Kitana: Weapons. Soldiers. Whatever you --
Scorpion: I have all that I need to defeat Bi-Han.
She's also offering him her and Outworld's support and is really just being nice to him, yet he never once shows gratitude and even tries to plant doubts about her in her sister's mind behind her back.
Nitara:
Scorpion: If you would only feed on lower species --
Nitara: Humans are a lower species.
"Lower species"? What species exactly is Kuai Liang talking about here? What's his definition of a lower species? Tarkatans? Netherrealmers? One could assume he means animals, but then why doesn't he say so? Instead, he's using a term that's often used in f*cist language. Who or what he's referring to isn't specified either, but it's definitely a questionable choice of words regardless.
Let's be honest, the mindset that there's "lower species" that are not deserving of life, as Kuai Liang basically implies by claiming Nitara should feed on them instead, says quite a lot about the kind of person he is. No matter what he's speaking of here, I still think this is pretty fucked up from any standpoint, especially because Kuai Liang doesn't explicitly say that he's talking about animals.
This is just my opinion, but even if he were to "only" be talking about animals here, I think it's downright wrong to say any animals are a "lower species", given the fact that we very much depend on certain animals for our own survival. Even if we give Kuai Liang the benefit of the doubt, he still sounds incredibly uneducated and ignorant. To not value the life of other creatures is not a good look on him, but then again we've seen how much he values his own brother's life so the bar is quite literally in hell.
Raiden:
Scorpion: Liu Kang's revelation has shaken my faith in him.
Raiden: Understandable, given what he chose to hide.
Reptile: Am I right to put faith in Liu Kang?
Scorpion: He's always proven worthy of mine.
Oh, has he now?
Kuai Liang is beginning to sound two-faced. He's certainly not conflicted because he still continues to follow Liu Kang and advices others to do the same. He also doesn't openly criticize or doubt Liu Kang like Tomáš and Bi-Han do. But he himself has lost some of his faith in Liu Kang, yet he judges Bi-Han for having done the same thing? Where does any of that make sense?
Bi-Han:
Scorpion: You would shed your brother's blood?
Sub-Zero: Because you choose to stand in my way.
The first blood shed was Bi-Han's, not Kuai Liang's, but because Bi-Han doesn't bear a visible scar, no one acknowledges that.
Kuai Liang is once again showing manipulative behavior here. Blaming everything on his brother and pretending he did nothing wrong. Guilt tripping Bi-Han for something he himself has done.
Kuai Liang's actions are not even the biggest problem here. You can somehow justify what he did with him being hurt/angry when he found out about the true circumstances of his father's death. It's the fact that he refuses to take any responsibility for what he did and acts completely innocent although he's anything but, that shows he's not who the fandom makes him out to be.
Even Bi-Han stands by what he does. Kuai Liang can't even own up to his actions.
Liu Kang:
Liu Kang: You allow vengeance to consume you.
Scorpion: I should not punish Bi-Han for his crimes?
So, Liu Kang seems concerned with Kuai Liang's thirst for vengeance. What's even more noteworthy is that we have Kuai Liang, a mortal, speak to Liu Kang, a literal god, about punishing someone else as if he's entitled to do so? Should it not be up to Liu Kang to decide whether Bi-Han deserves forgiveness or punishment? Do we need to add a god complex to the list of Kuai Liang's flaws?
There's nothing honorable about vengeance. It's honorable to be the bigger person and to forgive.
As Chinese philosopher Confucius said:
“Love thy neighbour as thyself: Do not do to others what thou wouldst not wish be done to thyself: Forgive injuries. Forgive thy enemy, be reconciled to him, give him assistance, invoke God in his behalf.”
Kuai Liang has none of that honor he claims to value.
Tanya:
Tanya: Liu Kang says we can trust you.
Kuai Liang: As long as Outworld's goals don't conflict with Earthrealm's.
Let me translate it: "No, you can't. I'll stop being a reliable ally and might betray you as soon as our interests no longer align." Which is fair enough, he doesn't owe Outworld his loyalty. It's, however, funny that that's exactly what Bi-Han did with Liu Kang/Earthrealm too, but for some reason Kuai Liang is still delusional enough to think he's a more honorable man than his brother?
Kung Lao:
Kung Lao: I bet I could be Shirai Ryu.
Scorpion: First, you must learn humility.
Also Scorpion:
Ashrah: I'd do well to follow your example.
Scorpion: Then start by studying my kombat.
Quan Chi: Your brother told me of all your weaknesses.
Scorpion: A short conversation, sorcerer?
Kuai Liang is a hypocrite who doesn't practice what he preaches. These are just two of many dialogues in which he comes off as overly confident and boastful. He will try to force his own values and ideals onto others but will not uphold them himself. These dialogues are not even the only example of his hypocrisy, but more of that to come later.
Smoke and the Shaolin monks:
Scorpion: Was it worth it, training with the Shaolin?
Smoke: Let me show you what I learned.
Yet another example for Kuai Liang's arrogance. "Was it worth it?" What's that even supposed to mean? Admittedly, this might not sound as bad compared to everything else he's said but I invite you to go and listen to this specific intro and pay attention to the tone of his voice. To me, it very much sounds like, as a former Lin Kuei, he thinks there's nothing the monks can teach him and Tomáš anymore and therefore he sees training with them as a waste of time. Overall, Kuai Liang seems to hold little respect for his allies. He might not outright say it, but there's definitely a superiority complex there.
Johnny:
Scorpion: Your mansion was unduly extravagant.
Johnny Cage: It came with the megastardom. Package deal.
What gives Kuai Liang the right to judge Johnny for what he does with his money that he's earned from his movies? Judging people and acting like he has the moral high ground over them in any situation is something Kuai Liang does a lot. That alone might not automatically make him a bad person, but it's tasteless and impolite nonetheless.
Johnny Cage: With your skills you'd be a hit, Kuai Liang.
Scorpion: Do I look like an entertainer?
Again, if you listen to the actual intro, the distaste in his voice is obvious. He seems to not have much respect for Johnny's profession or for most of his allies' professions, really. Remember his reaction to Tomáš training with the Shaolin monks?
Rain:
Scorpion: Like a dog, you bit the hand that fed you.
Rain: You've no right to judge me, Earthrealmer.
He doesn't -- because did Kuai Liang not do the same to Bi-Han? It doesn't matter that Bi-Han chose the wrong side, Kuai Liang's oath was to his grandmaster, not to Earthrealm. Bi-Han broke his oath to Earthrealm and by breaking his own oath to his brother, Kuai Liang is no better. And as I already explained in the first part of my analysis, Kuai Liang always meant to overthrow Bi-Han, even before Bi-Han abandoned his duties to defend Earthrealm. Bi-Han gave in to corruption and became a traitor, Kuai Liang was always a traitor in disguise. Kuai Liang is yet again being a hypocrite in this situation and displays double standards.
Kenshi:
Scorpion: Do not let Sento become a crutch.
Kenshi: I could win this fight with or without it.
Does anyone else think this comment sounds a lot like ableism? Who is he to tell a disabled man how to handle his disability? Kenshi is a badass, he's proven that countless of times and he doesn't need Kuai Liang's advice, but Kuai Liang has a habit of acting like he knows better than others.
Bi-Han (again):
Shang Tsung: It was all too simple, pulling your brother's strings.
Kuai Liang: It sickens me that he was so easily exploited.
Bi-Han fell victim to Shang Tsung's manipulation, yet here Kuai Liang is, blaming the victim. Meanwhile, Tomáš:
Smoke: I rue the day I ever met you.
Quan Chi: No sense dwelling on the past, Tomáš.
Tomáš regrets ever meeting the sorcerers because he rightfully blames the people responsible for this whole mess, Shang Tsung and Quan Chi, not Bi-Han. Kuai Liang is miles away from the same level of emotional maturity Tomáš has.
Scorpion: "Bi-Han's trail has led me to Sun Do."
Li Mei: "I'll abide no vigilante justice, Kuai Liang."
Scorpion: If you know where he is, tell me.
General Shao: As if I would spill your brother's secrets.
Scorpion: I need help to find Bi-Han.
Johnny Cage: Y'know I was only a TV detective, right?
Kuai Liang is making his own family feud everyone else's problem.
SPOILERS: At the same time, when Bi-Han will crash Kuai Liang's wedding in the dlc according to leaks, Kuai Liang will "apologize" to those who attended that they got dragged into his war with Bi-Han, once again painting his brother as the villain. Could he be any more duplicitous? I think the main reason why Smoke is not mentioned in any leaks is because the writers might deliberately not want him to be there because the way Kuai Liang acts (wanting to kill Frost, leaving Bi-Han to suffer and die) would go against everything Tomáš believes in and they can't have someone make Scorpion look bad, so they decided to just have Tomáš not be there at all. If that doesn't say it all, I don't know what will.
Kuai Liang:
Scorpion: I won't be consumed by vengeance.
Scorpion: How can your father's death not burn you.
You know it's bad when your own alternate self starts judging you and criticizing your ways.
Geras:
Scorpion: I want to see the moment my father died.
Geras: You are not ready to receive that knowledge.
I wonder why Geras denied Kuai Liang's request. Is he concerned that actually witnessing the event will make Kuai Liang lose his mind completely and he will make even more of an effort to kill Bi-Han? He surely seems to think Kuai Liang is too unstable to receive that information. But then again, Kuai Liang already wants to kill Bi-Han, he already tried to do it and he already knows what happened. When will he be ready in Geras' opinion? Once he already forgave Bi-Han (which seems like it won't happen at all)? Would that not just reignite his old hatred? Could it be that there's more to the death of Kuai Liang's father than we know? Is there something Geras is trying to hide from Kuai Liang on purpose?
Ashrah:
Ashrah: Bi-Han can be redeemed.
Scorpion: I don't see how that's possible.
It sounds a lot like Kuai Liang doesn't want it to be possible. He wants to deny his brother a chance at redemption. He's also once again acting like he knows better than everyone else. It's getting to the point where he seems self-righteous and out of touch with reality.
So, tell me again, after all that, why are we calling Kuai Liang a nice guy?
To conclude this, Kuai Liang only appears "nice" in direct comparison to Bi-Han, not necessarily because he's a better person, he's just the more agreeable one of the two. Take Bi-Han out of the picture and it's plain to see Kuai Liang is really not that nice. I also don't see how Kuai Liang is the poor, traumatized victim that never did anything wrong in his life, as fans like to describe him as. Yes, he suffered as well, but victims can also become aggressors. There are plenty of situations in which that's the case for Kuai Liang. Again, this is not hate or an attempt to completely demonize him, just to show that the fandom has a wrong idea of who Kuai Liang is and what he's like.
#kuai liang#kuai liang scorpion#mk scorpion#bi-han#mk sub zero#bi han sub zero#mortal kombat 1#mk1 2023#tomas vrbada#mk smoke#mk kitana#mk kung lao#mk liu kang#mk li mei#johnny cage
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I believe Aang was right to end the war by sparing Ozai. But the only (imho) valid reason some people say he should have done it is because they wanted Aang to realize that pacifism is flawed.
I'm gonna disagree with you here, because a lot of the flaws fans talk about pacism and how ATLA in particular handles it as a concept are 99%:
1 - People being ignorant/racist and not knowing the difference between pacifist monks and "make love, not war" hippies.
2 - People being ignorant/racist and refusing to understand that there are different kinds of pacifism, even within the same cultures/people groups.
Aang is very clearly not the type of pacifist to go "You can NEVER react with ANY kind of violence towards someone else, even if it's to defend yourself/someone else" (which does exist, both IRL and in the show, just look at the owl spirit in "The Library").
We see him fight, and even be quite aggressive in said fights, in a lot of episodes. We also see he has no issues with invading the Fire Nation. More importantly, for the longest time the Avatar State was a result of him being pissed off enough at some kind of injustice that it makes him lose control, meaning he is very clearly affected by the horrors of war to the point of RAGE.
What makes him a pacifist is the way in which he doesn't WANT to lose control, doens't WANT go from aggressive to full on cruel, and, yes, wants to defeat his enemies, but not kill them.
And as I keep repeating, the show DOES make him question that last boundary he set for himself. He gets told by a past Avatar, who was also an air-nomad before anything, that, when there is such a large threat to everyone's life, including his own, he has to put aside his own spiritual needs and take a life - provided there isn't another option. But there was, so Aang took that, even after he decided that, yes, if there was no other way, he WOULD kill Ozai.
What people don't like is that Avatar, although questioning some types of pacifism, is far more interested in questioning the way people are WAY too eager to use violence to solve their issues, and, more importantly, expect someone else to get their hands bloody.
Fire Lord Sozin starts the war because he, according to himself at least, wants what's best for everyone and would like to share the Fire Nation's glory and great life with the other nations. He tries to do by invading foreign territories, killing his best friend, and commiting genocide. The fucker even has the dragons, an obvious Fire Nation symbol, to be hunted to extintion.
When Jet is angry at the Gaang for ruining his plan to free a village from the Fire Nation's control by blowing up a dam, Sokka asks "Who would be free? Everyone would be dead."
Zuko is banished because he spoke out against a Fire Nation higher-up's plan to use soldiers as fresh meat to bait the enemy into a more vulnerable position, thus assuring the nation's victory in that battle. He openly says "These men love and defend our nation, how can you betray them?"
When Zhao wants to kill the moon spirit, Iroh tries to stop him by pointing out that the Fire Nation needs the moon too (seriously, if it wasn't for Yue's sacrifice and Zhao's death, the Fire Nation would have had to create a word for "Big-ass wave that wrecks everything and kills people" like Japan did).
When Aang is deliberately trying to trigger the Avatar State because he doesn't want anyone else to die in the war, Katara, who had her life ruined by said war, is against it because while she opposes the Fire Nation, she cares about Aang and, in her own words, seeing him in so much pain and rage hurts her too. When Aang can't force himself to go nuclear, an Earth Kingdom ruler attacks Katara and makes both her and Aang, two very traumatized child soldiers, think he is going to kill her.
More importantly, when Ozai wants to burn down Earth Kingdom cities, he says "A new world will rise from the ashes, and I'll be supreme ruler of everything", to which Zuko concludes that, if they don't save the world before his dad takes over, there won't be a world to save.
And what does he say to Aang when he is about to kill him? "You're weak, just like your people. They didn't deserve to live in world, in my world."
Avatar does questions pacifism, and is critical of it on ocasion (again, watch "The Library"). But it's biggest theme is being critical of VIOLENCE, of resorting to it immediately without considering any other option and acting like it doesn't have long-lasting negative consequences, both to the person suffering it to the person inflicting it (see Azula's breakdown, Zuko's angry outburts only making him more miserable, Jeong Jeong growing to resent being a firebender, Zhao accidentally burning his own ships, etc)
The show is constantly highlighting that, yes, sacrifices need to be made for the greater good - but that CAN'T be normalized because it inevitably leads to a never-ending cicle of cruelty, as well as suffering to the one who has to do the dirty job (because lets not forget there's a big difference in how a soldier that is constantly in battle sees the war and how a king that just gives the orders but never goes into the actual combat sees the war).
The show embraces pacifism, despite knowing some versions of it are flawed, because the narratives themes are:
1 - EVERYONE is capable of great good and great evil
2 - No group has the right to impose it's own lifestyle onto others
3 - If everyone is either dead, mentally (and physically) scarred for life, or preparing to kill someone as revenge, then being killed by someone who wants to avenge that person, who will themselves be killed for revenge later, then the "greater good" you're sacrificing everything for doesn't actually exist because NO ONE will have a good life in a world that is stuck in the cicle of violence.
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Autistic Avatars not realizing that they're Avatars because they're just "like that": a thread
The Eye
Special Interest in the supernatural = constant food for The Watcher
You know about Interest? TELL ME EVERYTHING
"Hey man listen to me infodump about this horrifying ghost story I read for twenty minutes, alright?"
I need to Know everything about something before I partake in it.
"How did I Know that? Eh, I probably hyperfixated on it at some point."
I cannot be misunderstood so I'll beam the facts into your brain.
The Web
I must plan everything 200 steps in advance before doing anything.
I have prepared for all possible outcomes, I can now have this one conversation.
If I set up all these variables long in advance, then I can do everything correctly and Win the social interaction.
I cannot do anything before The Plan says to.
"I practice my social skills by talking to my spider friends." -Martin "Autism" Blackwood
The Stranger
I cannot socialize without being Uncanny.
If my socialization seems like an act, that's because it is. I practice it in the mirror every day.
Theater Kid
How do you Normal Human?
The Anatomy Class.
Assuming fellow Stranger Avatars also just have the 'Tism. They're not trying to be creepy, honest.
Can't do faces. Doesn't notice when you get replaced.
Being subtly off is too subtle for me.
The Lonely
"I have failed the social interaction. Let the fog reclaim me."
Talking to people is draining my batteries even faster than ever. I need to be alone for approximately 384,400,000 years.
Nothing can overstimulate me in the cool, blinding fog.
Nothing unpredictable can happen in the fog.
The fog is your friend.
The known connection between autism and depression feeds the fog.
The Dark
Why is the sun so god damn bright? I'm going to blow it up I swear.
Night Owl.
Everything's decently quite at night and people leave you alone.
Same overstimulation preventatives as the Lonely tbh. Dark and fog are good concealers.
The dawn is your enemy.
The dread florescent lights shall never bother me again. They break upon my arrival.
Can and will infodump to the monster under my bed. Even now it feels like it listens.
The Spiral
Autism makes getting other mental illnesses recognized hard.
Autism dissociation from body and mind. When did it become 3 AM and why do I hurt? Why am I grumpy? What vital self care task did I forget?
Literal mind doesn't often match reality. Reality is specifically unspecific.
Spaced out and wandered off. Where the fuck am I?
I'm not a mental baby, please stop treating me like it.
I'm not inherently dangerous, please stop treating me like it.
Memory problems my beloathed. Did that happen? I dunno.
What Is Time?
What Is Me?
The Gender
Why do things only make sense to me? What does no one else make sense?
The Flesh
Autism Genderfuckery = Flesh fueled dysphoria.
Meat is the only texture that's palatable. Especially the Mystery Meat.
Will never try any other foods. Too picky.
Infodumps about the horrors of meat processing at dinner and ruins the meal for everyone. More steak for me.
Hates PETA.
Double the arms means double the stim. You weren't using them, right?
Working out is a great stim.
The Corruption
Practices social interaction with the bugs who live in my walls.
"Insects are disgusting. I love them!"
Will protect endangered insects by any means necessary.
According to all known laws of aviation-
Relationship boundaries struggles.
Difficulty noticing sickness symptoms.
Is that nausea or am I overstimulated? *Accidentally causes supernatural plague outbreak*
Difficulty getting diseases diagnosed because of both Autism and noticing too many symptoms so the doctors assume they're faking.
Forgot vital hygiene needs.
The Bugs Are My Friends! They keep me company when I'm sick!
The Buried
Weighted blankets are insufficient, I need the Earth to reclaim me.
Avoid social interaction by tunneling everywhere like a mole.
101 facts about worms.
Forgor hygiene again. Time to become dirt.
Digging a hole is good stimming.
That guy who had to be buried alive to sleep properly. What do you mean you don't want to be buried?
The End
Aradia Megido from Homestuck.Com
That's it, that's the list.
The Desolation
The Autism Temper.
Losing relationships and friendships to ableism and your own disability constantly.
The Fire is a wonderful stim board. Watch it crinkle.
Just watching candles melt for hours.
The fire and thrill gives my life passion again.
Jude Perry.png
The Vast
Accidentally terrifying people by infodumping about the horrors of nature.
The stimulus of falling.
Nature/Space/Weather Documentary on in background always.
Okay, but from how high did you fall? I want to calculate your velocity as you fell through the void.
Weirdly enough... power scaling?
Power scaling is just the art of determining how easily your favorite characters can destroy mankind so... yeah, I can see it.
Brain empty, only terminal velocity.
The Hunt
Cat Autism
The inherent hyperfocus of the hunt. The chase. Your prey.
Studying the habits of your latest hyperfixation/Hunt assigned prey for days at a time.
I've spent so much time hunting in the woods that I forgot about human society. The Missing Person's Bureau have written you off for dead.
Returning to society to sell your wears and realizing you aren't human anymore.
That's okay. Social interaction is random. The Hunt makes sense.
It's black and white. Predator and prey. Humans hunting monsters. It Makes Sense.
The Slaughter
The incredible human WW1 documentary.
"Did you know?" *Describes horrible historic warcrime*
Takes apart puts back together guns from their collection.
The list of known casualties from this war is incomplete. With my help, they can expand it. :)
The Extinction
The world is spiraling towards its end and only you seem to care.
It hurts to be this passionate about a lost cause.
You Will Make Them Care.
#the magnus archives#autism#the eye#the web#the stranger#the lonely#the dark#the spiral#the flesh#the corruption#the buried#the end#the desolation#the vast#the hunt#the slaughter#the extinction
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-> HINATA SHOUYOU X FEMALE!READER
Summary: Hinata has changed a lot since he graduated high school and came to Brazil. He has had a lot of fun with other girls since he got here - why shouldn't he try his luck with you?
Words: 1.398
Warnings: groping, dubcon
Hinata starts having fun in Brazil. Before, he was used to being the small kid everyone thought was kinda cute but never a guy girls would be drooling over, fighting to go on a date with. It probably came down to his size, his biggest insecurity throughout all those years. Even later, when he overcame it in volleyball he never truly overcame the impression other people had of him and the way they constantly underestimated him and thought he was younger than he truly was. In the later months of high school, when puberty started being a bit kinder on his body and made his shoulders broader, his arms thicker with muscle, he still looked like a kid. Even when girls gave him chocolates for valentine's day or confessed to having a crush on him, he could tell what they were thinking. That he was cute.
He tried not to let it bother him but deep down, it always did. So when he came to Brazil and started becoming even taller, broader and stronger, he experienced something for the first time. Never before had he had girls looking up at him, batting their eyelashes like those sexy women in the movies did. Now, they bite their lips, touch him in subtle ways that still express their desire for him. No one had ever behaved like that around him. Like they want him to touch them, to ruin them. They aren't looking for him to be nice to them, they are looking for him to be a little rough with them and he was more than happy to do just that.
He is still nice, of course. He likes treating a girl nicely, smiling at her, giving her compliments, offering advice when needed. It's just that he also liked getting a little rough every now and then. He enjoyes the new power his now grown up body gives him.
And now that he met you, he enjoyes it maybe a bit more than he should. You met at the beach where he was - as usual - playing volleyball. Hinata caught you glancing at him, admiring the way his tan skin glowed in the sun. You were trying not to stare but still, he could tell.
"Do you want me to show you a move or two?" He aks you after he casually walked over to you.
The sun is bright in your eyes and you have to squint to look up at him from where you are sitting in the sand. When you came to the beach you were really only planning to relax a little and enjoy the warm weather but this - spending time with one of the most handsome men at the beach - sounds a lot better than your original plan. Even if it does involve exercising in the blistering heat.
But to your surprise he leads you down to a more secluded part of the beach. A few trees throw a little bit of shade, a few tall rocks set you apart from the rest of the beach, so high that no one can even see you. The once so loud voices seem dull and far away now.
"It's a bit easier learning new things when you don't have a bunch of people staring at you, isn't it?" Hinata smiles at you so brightly that you don't even think of questioning his motives. I mean, why else would he have brought you here?
The moves he shows you are easy enough and truly is a great teacher. Every little detail is observed by him and he never misses a mistake but still he is kind when explaining them to you. He passes the ball to you and tells you how to properly receive the ball. You're not exceptionally bad at it, but it isn't easy either. The ball never seems to fly the way you want it to.
"Here, let me show you," he jogs over to you and shows you how to place your arms correctly.
He's standing behind you, maybe a little closer than he should but it doesn't matter, right? Otherwise he would be able to move your hands in the right position, you tell yourself. It doesn't matter that you can feel his warm breath on your neck and your cheek, that his touch erects goosebumps on your skin despite the heat. It doesn't matter that when he retracts his hands he lets them brush against your shoulders and then, when he shows you how to properly squat down while receiving, against the sides of your breasts. You must be imagining it. He probably barely even brushed against you and you're just overthinking it. Aren't you?
But you don't have time to truly think about it. All you can focus on right now is not whimpering when he places his hands on your hips and pushes you down, lightly and yet strong enough to make it clear that there is no other way for your body to move but the way that he wants it to. Not that you want to do anything but.
"See," suddenly his voice seems to be a lot rougher, deeper, yet quieter, "if you squat down like that, you'll have a much better angle on the ball when it comes down."
His body is closer now than ever. His chest is pressing up against your back, you could swear you could feel his hips brushing against your ass.
All you can do is nod, biting your lip to suppress another whimper that wanted to escape you. Hopefully he wouldn't be able to see the blood rushing into your cheeks. You can already feel the adrenaline rushing through you, your quickened heartbeat was pumping your blood everywhere, to your face, your sweaty hands.. your crotch, your breasts.. maybe you should have worn another bikini, not the thin one you are wearing right now. Already your nipples are starting to harden with the way he is turning you on and you are sure that they would already be noticeable to him if he is to look down.
"I think-" Is his breath even closer to your neck now? You feel like his lips are only a few millimeters away from you, as if he was leaning down to kiss you. "- I think if you move a little this way.."
You are not prepared for him to move you over to the side the way that he does. With one finger slipping under the thin lining of your bikini panties, pulling them up and away from your skin. The fabric over your crotch is immediately pulled taut, the pressure on your clit impossible to ignore. The moan that slips from you is louder than you want it to be - you don't want it to be heard at all - but since you've been suppressing all your needy, desperate noises, you just can't help yourself.
"Oh.. does that feel good?"
Somehow, you've landed against his chest, with his lips right next to your ear. Your legs must have given out a little and let you stumble backwards against him. You can only nod. Deep inside your brain something is telling you that this is weird and wrong, definitely happening too fast but you don't care. The whole time you've been trying not to stare, not to flirt, not to give into your feeling. But now they've been set free, and the only thing you can think about is the pulsing need between your legs and the delicious, mind-numbing pleasure you get from the little bit of friction he is giving you by still pulling your panties up. So, when he asks you if it feels good, obviously you have to nod. There is nothing else for you left to do.
Lucky for you, his big, warm arm wraps around your waist and keeps you from falling to the ground. You've literally fallen right into his arms.
"You want me to make you feel good? Even better than just now?"
"Uh-huh." You can't even form complete sentences now.
Hinata smiles at how cute and helpless you are, your hands weakly grabbing onto his forearm for purchase. He's got you under his spell now and he knows it. But don't you worry, he really will make you feel good.
After all, he is still nice.
#lemon#hinata#hinata shoyo#hinata shouyou#hinata shoyo imagine#hinata shoyo smut#hinata x you#hinata x reader#hinata shoyo x reader#hinata shoyo x you#hinata smut#hinata x you smut#hinata x reader smut#hinata shoyo x you smut#hinata shoyo x reader smut#hinata shouyou x reader#hinata shouyou x you
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the yandere ghost is just 💕😭. your thoughts on yandere König? 👀
Thank you ♥ Please enjoy :3 (I am also really enjoying it rn that I have the ö key on my keyboard hehehe, fuck yeah, finally the german keyboard is useful >:D)
»»———————— ♡ ————————««
♡ Lord have mercy on the poor soul trapped with and König himself. He can't go even a second without thinking of his darling stuck alone at the base (living their best life away from him), but once he's around you, he's way too awkward to do anything with you. If you were to hold out your hand invitingly to him, he'd—at most!— brush his fingertips over your palm, ready to die happily as he shudders from the sensation. Guy holds your hand once (which costs him a ton of courage), and his heart just... stops. He has to leave the room afterward, or he might lose it, sweating, cursing, pants bulging, and so, so much need inside him to go back and do it again. He wants to go back immediately, kiss you, hold you, and rub against you just once. But unless you invite him again, he'll try to be patient and not pressure you into it, even if it's (he's) so hard and kneeling in front of you, biting his lip so he doesn't beg you to tell him to come closer.
♡ Luckily, his awkwardness also means there is a way to get some peace by collecting all your courage and just randomly hug him while he's busy doing something (that he thinks you'll like, like cleaning or cooking). It'll put him into a state of shock that could potentially make or break your escape. Just kidding. You reach for his gun? You're on the ground or pinned against the wall, his arm choking you as he shouts at you to never fucking do that again. He's scared for your safety first, scary as he looms, pins, and threatens you second. König will be incredibly sorry afterward for hurting you and lashing out as he has to watch you try to breathe again once he retreats after realization sets in. He's furious—at you, at him, at the fact you could have been hurt by his negligence. So at least he leaves you alone for a while to cool off and find a solution, only returning when he's secured some sweets and gummi bears as an attempt for you two to reconcile.
♡ He's very much a beaten dog that will run to any kind of affection you give him. Ask him a question? He drops everything and stands by your side in seconds, even if it's just yes or no. He's inching closer, and you don't look at him or tell him to stop? He'll put his head in your lap and let out a giant blissful sigh. König tries to join any activity he permitted, so if you chill on the couch and watch TV, get ready to almost drop over the edge while he scoots in behind you, or have him hover over you while you do a puzzle, watching which piece you'll place next with enormous interest. He lives for not being rejected by you, and it's his ruin when you tell him to leave you alone and to go away, that you hate him, or that you'll never like him. Please balance these two things carefully, 'cause one day he'll decide to be the monster you keep trying to make him out to be. And you won't like learning just how big, bad, and needy he can be when you push him over the edge. Hint: You're just a doll (what kind depends on his mood) in his hands. Never forget that.
♡ Absolutely does not share you. Don't you dare to look at someone else, even if he has to bring you on a mission. Don't sit anywhere but his lap, never leave his side, and for the love of God, don't open your mouth to speak to anyone but him. Somehow, being with other people makes all these insecurities and anxiety go away for a while, even though when you two are back in private, he asks if you still like him the most. It's almost as if he is showing you off, but the moment someone notices you, he gets growly and visibly possessive, placing his arm around your body (slinging it over your shoulder and grabbing your side like a seatbelt), picking you up, making you straddle his thigh and face him, etc. König hates everyone and anything that looks at you, almost more than when they look at him and he feels judged. You're simply off-limits for others.
♡ He rarely threatens you with violence, but he's love bombing you to the extent that sometimes you forget you're his captive, not his actual partner. König brings you new flowers whenever the old ones wilt, asks you to dance in the kitchen with him, cooks your favorite meals regularly, and asks you out on dates (those rarely happen because "you don't know how to behave," he says, giggling. He doesn't know how to behave either, maybe you two shouldn't be out there together). He buys you things that remind him of you, and even when you have an emergency craving, he gets out at one in the morning to somehow fulfill it. König constantly tells you how much you mean to him and that you're the best thing that's ever happened in his life. If he's a little more confident in your relationship (aka, after you stopped struggling so much), you can count on many gentle touches, pats, head kisses, hugs, hand kisses, rocking you to sleep, etc. He really makes it seem like you're in a relationship.
♡ You probably made the mistake of getting a bit too friendly with him for his twisted mind to understand you were just trying to be nice. He never had that kind of connection with anyone before, and he just had to have you afterward, all to himself, or he might have lost his mind. This desperation is why he keeps you locked away, trying so desperately to sweeten the deal for you by doing everything he can to appease you. There's no one else to wait for him whenever he returns home, give his life another meaning other than killing, so he clings to you who once showed him exactly what he always wanted—an unafraid smile, a welcoming greeting, and kindness radiating off you. He can't share you for the very same reason, knowing that you could make any man go mad with your abilities to welcome them into your life.
♡ Calls you all sorts of loving names like: "Schatz" (treasure), "Liebling" (Darling), "Kleine/Kleiner/Kleines" (fem/masc/gn translates to "Little/Small one") as well as "Große/Großer" (fem/masc translates to "Big/Tall one"), "Prinz/Prinzessin/Eure Majestät" (Prince, Princess, Your Majesty).
♡ You're the only person who can make him come to a complete standstill. He's known to be hyperactive and rarely able to calm down. Still, if you are forced to hug him and let his hand run up and down your back, he's the most focused and calm soldier anyone has ever seen. He doesn't blink, doesn't flinch or move (if not to put you out of harm's way), doesn't speak—a massive silent blot in the landscape. He's able to focus on everything that's discussed, can answer questions easily without stuttering. All that and more, just because he has you like a little comfort plush. It's something his Platoon knows to appreciate and use if needed. Otherwise, they try to stay away from you as far as possible to avoid the calmness turning into terror, unlike what these soldiers have ever seen. No one wants to cross König. They leave being a ragdoll to you.
♡ On days that he comes home exhausted, his insecurities and awkwardness will just be overwritten by exhaustion, so he doesn't care what he does as long as it involves you. He'll lead your hands to where he wants to be touched, forcing you to undress him and ripping your clothes off so he can take you to the bath with him, where you two squeeze into his tub together. There's little space, but König hugs you to his chest and hides his face in your shoulder, taking deep breaths to decompress while you have the option to either ask if he wants to talk about his day or stay silent. He won't allow you to complain or struggle, shutting it down immediately. Squeezing you shut if he must. He's over it for that day. He does, however, not force but relish in it if you decide to take care of him on a whim or because you don't want to be stuck in his tight embrace. He'll let you wash the dirt and blood sticking to him off, kissing your hands reverently as if they are his lifeline keeping him grounded, thoughts off the battlefield, lets you comb his hair, massage his back, or even touch his face before he helps you dry off, wrapping you with his huge towel and carries you to bed with him. Never mind food or other necessities, König simply buries you under his body as he falls asleep partially on top of you. He's not even sorry for touching you so much in the morning. He just apologizes sleepily for drooling on you before he gets up to get some water for you two, still in his full, naked glory. He does, however, eventually realize you two slept next to each other stark-naked, and he has to recover from choking on the water he just drank while he runs to get you both clothes.
#König#König cod#yandere könig#cod#yandere cod#call of duty#yandere call of duty#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere fanfiction#yandere writing#yandere stories#yandere oneshots#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#Yandere TW
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