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btssunnyboy · 3 years

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Unbelievable - Choi San

He was always rude to you, embarrassing you in front of everyone. So why is he mad that someone better made you an offer?

Warning - Profanity, mention of caffeine, San is mean as fuck, Yandere towards the end, He makes a threat.

Word Count - 3,362 idk if they will be a part 2!

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ — request open.

__________________________________________

Good god, your blood was boiling the moment you saw his door crack open. You could feel your fingernails digging into your palms as you tried to remain calm. The last thing you needed to do was lose your temper and give this man another opportunity to ridicule in front of your co-workers. But judging by that horrendous look on his face you already have a gut feeling that all taht hard work to keep your anger in check is going to fly right through the window. Taking the deepest breath you could take and plastering on that fake smile, you gladly greeted the man that makes your life a living hell.

“These numbers are definitely not to my liking and I refused to be the laughing stock at the board meeting tomorrow.” He huffed heavily as he practically threw the binder down onto your desk. The heavy plastic slamming against the steel desk with a loud thud that echoed through the big hallway. The wind from the fall making papers that previously occupied your desk go flying in every single direction. You could feel your anger bubble up in your chest at the mere disrespect that this man was giving you, and it was driving you insane.

“With all do respect sir, it’s already twelve thirty, and I highly doubt I’ll be able to go over all of these documents by seven thirty in the morning.” You resisted their urge to grit your teeth as you wanted to appear somehow considerate of his complications. Truth be told you didn’t want to do another all nighter when you barely pulled through from the other night. “Besides, I looked over the revenue and margin growths three times before I sent them to your office.”

He scoffed loudly as he licked one of his fingers and then continued to rummage through the papers that were bonded together. His long finger skimmed over the lines multiple times and he flipped each page within a minute. Those piercing eyes stayed locked in on every single number that crossed the page. “Ah, right here it states that we made a profit revenue of fifty million last year, but then it states that this year we’ve only grossed sixty five million. And that’s definitely less than the fifty percent revenue growth that we expected.”

“So, sixty five is not as bad as you’re making it out to be, besides multiple people double checked.” You spoke tiredly as you started packing up your briefcase. Different papers getting stacked together and even crumpled because of the rapid pace that you were going. No matter what happens tonight you were leaving before the clock strikes one in the morning. As you were packing up your eyes met his furious ones and it felt like your world was crumbling down. “Mr. Choi, I’m being honest, your accounting department checked all of these numbers multiple times and I looked over them as much as I could.”

“I know for a fact that we had a fifty percent increase in revenue, now look over these damn numbers again. Or you’ll be kissing this cushy office job goodbye in the morning.” He harshly slammed the binder closed and stalked over to his office door. The audacity of that stupid man, how dare he even threaten you with this job. But as much as you wanted to spit in his face and tell him to shove it you really needed this job, this really well paying job.

You poked your cheek with your tongue out of agitation and roughly grabbed your purse. The bottle of caffeine pills made a clicking sound as you unscrewed the cap within a second. Without a drink of water you downed the pill and grabbed the ugly binder. This was going to be a long night, and these numbers were not going to supposedly fix themselves.

Your fingers tapped the keys on the keyboard rapidly as you searched each collaboration revenue. All of these numbers were lining up, no matter what you searched. Out of the six collaborations Choi enterprise only grossed sixty five million, but for some reason he just won’t listen. All you wanted to do at this point was slump forward and go to sleep, but with that anger that Mr.Choi has you’re scared he might kill you in your sleep. But as the long hours went on and on, you could feel yourself slipping. Your eyelids felt like a ton, and your head was suddenly too heavy for your neck to hold. Before you knew you were out like a light.

—

You’d shoot the person who was jabbing their finger into side if you could. Their bony finger feeling a knife stabbing your rib cage with immense pressure. “Please wake up, y/n, if he notices you’re asleep, who knows what he’ll do!” The jabbing didn’t cease one bit, in fact they just jabbed even harder.

“Okay! I’m up!” You groggily scoffed as your vision was trying to focus on the object in front of you. The figure was simply a mush of different colors all moving in different directions. The harsh lights in the office are in no way making the situation any better. You could make out their hand moving from left to right to try and grab your attention. “Hongjoong?”

“What are you, blind? Of course it’s me, but please I’m begging you get up and go freshen up in the bathroom.” He sighed sadly as he helped your wobbly stance straighten up. His soft hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. The soft scent of his cologne filling your nose as you clung to him. “Do you still carry extra clothes in your car?”

“Thankfully yes, but what time is it?” You question as you rubbed your eyes, trying to make all the colors of the world blend back together to form one coherent thing. “Oh god, is it past seven thirty, oh shit! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Calm down, it's only six thirty, but he always gets here at seven. So please go wipe that old makeup off and I’ll get your other clothes.” Hongjoong smiled slightly at you before his eyes shifted towards the oh so famous brown binder. “Did that dick make you go over more numbers the whole night?”

“God yes and it was terrible, but I looked over all six collaborations and I kid you not it all equals sixty five.” You could hear a pin drop on the silence that coated the room. It was beginning to feel suffocating and you physically felt your chest growing heavy with dread. “There were only six right, because that’s all the forms I received.”

“Maybe i'm just thinking of something else, because maybe just maybe -“

“Stop wasting time! Is there more than six?” You panicked as you shoved him away and pulled the rolling chair back to your side. Before your fingers could even reach the keys, Hongjoong’s were there in a second. They tapped rapidly and skimmed through all your emails at a neck breaking pace. “Oh my god I never refreshed the email.”

“We don’t have time to sit here and panic, we have three pages of numbers to go through.” Hongjoong tried to make the situation less tense by offering a helping hand, but he knew that if these numbers weren’t corrected all hell would break loose. And no one wanted to see what Choi San was like when he more than ticked off. He’d probably be past the point of furious if ever saw these unfinished numbers.

—

San’s eyes were narrowed as he eyed the unfamiliar man at your desk. Where the hell were you? He didn’t pay a shit ton of money for you to be everywhere and not in that chair looking pretty. But at this moment he couldn’t control himself as the words flew from his mouth. “What the hell is this?”

That look, that gorgeous look of fear that made his blood rush and his heart pound. Was etched across the unknown man's face and he was basking in the glory of it. San cocked his eyebrow slightly as he leaned forwards on his palms. “Did I suddenly grow two heads or some shit, no? Then answer my question, what the hell is this.”

“I’m so sorry Mr.Choi, but I didn’t notice that there were seven collaborations. I only had six in my email. And Mr.Kim was only helping me scrunch the numbers.”

“You mean to tell me that these numbers aren’t finished! And this meeting is in less than an hour?” His demeanor was calm but the sheer venom in his voice was enough to bring you to your knees. He poked his cheek with his tongue and gave a mean smile in your direction. “I mean it, l/n you’re on thin ice. But if those numbers aren’t corrected then you’re fired.”

“Yes sir.” You gulped as you watched him take heavy steps towards his office. You were in deep shit now. San rubbed his chin as he tried to remain calm and not fire you on the spot. Out of all the times you could have missed up, you decided now was the perfect time. Messing up these numbers would make other investors think that this company cannot handle the responsibility of simply matching numbers. This mistake could completely tank the company and put everyone here out of a job.

Fifty five minutes have passed and investors from other companies are already showing up at the doors. And here he was sitting at the head of the table empty handed, and it was all your fault. It was your fault for not refreshing that damn email, for not paying closer attention to the numbers, for simply not giving it your all. And now it’s going to be your fault that the entire company crumbles and falls straight into the depths below.

“So San, when is this meeting going to officially begin?” Questioned one of the many associates as he leaned back against the velvet chair. A smile bright on his face as if he didn’t care to wait a moment or two for it to begin. But, on the other hand, the leader of the meeting was so furious he could start foaming at the mouth. Because guess what crucial piece of information still wasn’t on his desk.

“We will begin momentarily if my secretary would get her head out of her ass and bring them those god damn numbers.” San spoke with a soft smile on his face. The look he gave the men was a completely different tone from the words he just spoke. Those words help fury and degradation but his smile was so bright it could light up a room or cause someone’s heart to flutter out of their chest. But at this moment all of those men knew at this moment San was anything, but happy.

The sound of the doorknob being yanked on caught everyone’s attention. Their heads jolted towards the cause of the noise as they watched you fiddled with the dozens of papers in her hand. Your smile was uneasy as you tried to reorganize them on your way towards the head of the table. They watched your clammy hands shake with fear as San ripped the paper from your hands. Judging by the way you quickly held your pointed and middle finger they could only guess what happened.

“Why the hell are you still standing here? Do I need to draw you a picture and make it clear that you’re done here?” San scolded as he shoved you a bit and forced you to walk to the door. Fumbling over your own two feet and almost hitting the floor head on at one point. But he didn’t care, because all he wanted to do right now was get this meeting over with. With a final shove and a quick slam of the glass door, he swiftly turned back around to be met with very difficult to decipher expressions.

“Well now that all distractions are gone, let’s get down to business.”

—

Your face was flushed and you could feel your hands start to shake. From the mere interaction with the stupid CEO. The vivid picture of his icy eyes and cold stare were burned into your brain, as his words pounded in your skull without mercy. The man practically belittled you, in a room full of successful CEOs who now probably think you’re a joke.

“Hey, don't worry yourself sick. It was an honest mistake.” Hongjoong consoled you as he eyed your shaken form. The tearful eyes and the constant bouncing of your leg was a dead giveaway of the way you felt at this moment. And he wanted nothing more than to just say everything will be okay, that everything is going to be just fine. But he can’t, because who knows what the jerk will do you do considering your almost costed him a deal.

“Do you think he’ll fire me?” The question hung in the air with such heaviness that it was almost hard to breathe. The thought of losing this job was sending you into a whirlwind of erratic emotions. If this job is gone, there goes the ability to afford your car, hell there goes the ability to afford the damn apartment you’re living in at this moment. You’ll lose eveything, if you’re cut off.

“He better not, and trust me if he ever does, I would be more than happy to have you on my team.” A new man smiled brightly in your direction as he made his way over to your desk. He wasn’t an unfamiliar face around the office as he and Mr.Choi have done business deals of many kinds in the past. “It would truly be an honor to have someone like you working at Jeon Marketing.”

A small smile took over your face as you eyed the man in front of you. Mr.Jeon was an extremely well known CEO in this business, and he’s not too much older than Mr.Choi. You’re genuinely surprised these men are allies in this type of business, if anything you thought they’d be enemies. “Thank you for such kind words, but trust me your opinion on me may change soon.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen the way you handle situations at this company, especially time crunched ones. I can tell just by looking at your face you stayed up hours just to make sure his numbers were perfect.” Mr Jeon stated as he leaned forward on the desk and clapped his hand together. “And truth be told I wouldn’t mind having such a beautiful face be the face of my company.”

His compliment left you stumped as you eyed his face. The tone he held was lighthearted because he knew this stressful situation needed a little laughter, but you knew from the look on his face he was being serious. About both of his statements. Before you could form a response, he long fingers were reaching into his jacket pocket. “I promise, if you ever need anything. I’m just a call away.”

“His top rival and best friend just offered you a sweet ass deal, are you gonna take it?”

You truly didn’t know the answer to that. I mean on one hand you have your secretary job here, and it pays well. The boss may be a pain in the ass, but it’s the only thing keeping you afloat. And you know that these two companies are neck and neck right now for the top spot, so it’s hard to decipher just how much he’s willing to pay you. But would there be any harm in simply asking the man?

“I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t intrigue me, but at the same time I don’t wanna leave you all alone.” You mumbled as you tapped away at the computer keys. Just trying to find any small amount of information about his company. But only mere surface information popped up in the search box. “Would it be a bad thing if I did leave?”

“Sometimes trying something new is good thing, but it really all depends on how you feel. And I have a friend that works there and she told me she makes over 250k a year.” Hongjoong shrugged his shoulders as he stood up to leave. His soft eyes giving a sense of comfort as he started to walk away. “I promise whatever option you pick, you’ll be fine.”

A heavy huff of air passed through your lips as you tried to think of the right answer. If he was right you’d make just a little bit more working for him and he genuinely seems like a nicer boss in general. So the real question is what’s keeping you tied to this job? The only perk about this job is working with Hongjoong and he’s the main reason why you’ve stuck around this long. The men from before were now exiting San’s offer with bright smiles on their faces, and you could only conclude that those numbers truly were the right ones. But just as your eyes leave their smiles you’re met with someone who has the complete opposite expression.

He briskly walked towards you and hastily cleared his throat. The stone cold expression he was supporting made a shiver go down your spine. Without a second thought he grabbed your hand and hauled you off in the direction of his office, with his nails piercing the skin of your wrist. Within a second he shoved you into his office and slammed the door behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His stern voice echoed in the office. Bouncing off the walls left and right and continuing to bounce inside your skull. The fingernails that were pressing into your skin felt like sharp needles protruding into you. You could have sworn you saw blood pass through his fingers. “Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! But I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” You panicked as you tried to yank your arm away from his hardened grasp. Those eyes of his start to terrify you the longer you stay in his touch. But he wasn’t letting you get away if anything the more you struggled against him the tighter his hold got.

“I saw that dumb fucker hand you his card, and for some unknown reason you took it. So what that’s it, you’re just gonna fucking leave after everything I’ve done for you?” He spat words at you left and right. Not bothering to back up any of his claims. He speaks as if he’s given you pure gold to walk but in reality all he’s given you is eggshells. You have to be careful around you, you’re never treated well, and he wants to sit up on his throne and act as if he’s treated you like royalty?

“If anything you’ve given me shit! You’re treating me like crap any chance you get, I made one mistake and your response to that is belittling me in front of other people!” You shouted back with just as much venom as he has done to you. With a final yank from your arm, you relaxed yourself from his grip. Tired of his antics you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke. “And so what if I take his offer, he’d be a better boss than you ever were!”

“I mean it, L/n, you take that deal and I’ll make your life a living hell.” He threatened as he got closer and closer. His minty breath fanned your face slightly as he harshly grabbed your chin. “Trust me, this is one bet you’ll regret taking if you leave.”

“I’ll take that damn bet any day.” You tried to push his chest back but he was stronger than you. What surprised you the most was the cackle-like laugh that passed through his lips. A wide smile taking over his face and that somehow made the situation more sinister.

“I warned you, Y/n.”

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

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sugar sugar - the wedding

Summary: It's Becky and Henry's wedding day 🥰

Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x Becky Kim (asian OFC)

Warnings: Daddy kink, anal play, sex, mention of squirting, overstimulation (just what they usually do lol)

Wordcount: 2.4k

Masterlist // Sugar Sugar Masterlist // Sugar Sugar the wedding Masterlist // Previous chapter //

Today is the day. Henry is gonna marry the love of his life. When he kissed her for a short goodbye this morning, he was dragged away by Gino and Peter, who were gonna help him get ready.

Since Becky couldn’t decide who she wanted to be her maid of honor, both of her friends stepped up to the task, which caused Gino and Peter to share the duties of best men as well. He is standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for her to enter. He exchanges a look with Sehun, with whom he became good friends. He loves seeing Becky and her dad reconnect and she actually calls him a lot, even for tasks Henry himself can fix.

For example helping her with building a cabinet or something else she bought from Ikea. Normally she’d turn to Henry, but now she is quick to ask her dad for help and orders Henry , in case her dad asks, to pretend he is too busy with work to help her out.

The two of them are actively working on their bond and it warms his heart to see Becky hug her dad tightly, have their own little inside jokes and simply have the father-daughter relationship she always wanted.

The music changes and Henry looks up from Sehun, only to see Becky in her wedding dress. To describe her as breathtakingly perfect is not even enough. Her long black locks are slightly curled at the bottom of the strands, the dress hugs her in all the right places and the soft smile toying on her lips is enough to make him feel all sorts of things.

To make sure Genevieve wouldn’t nag his head off, he promised her that he would be slightly emotional when Becky would walk down the aisle, however now that she actually is walking towards him, the tears burn in his eyes. He feels the hot tear rolling over his cheek and he is quick to wipe it away.

She holds out her hand and he is quick to take it, helping her up the tiny stairs. ‘Wow,’ he says, ‘you’re gorgeous.’

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘You look so handsome.’ She places her hand on his chest and smiles. ‘I love you,’ she mouths towards him.

‘I love you too.’

The two of them (and Genevieve) decided that the speech shouldn’t be too long, mostly because Becky said that she hates long speeches that seemed to never end. Henry barely listens anyway, because he is too enthralled, looking at his soon to be wife.

He sure is lucky.

When it’s time for the vows, Becky folds open her paper. She clears her throat a few times, looking up at him.

Oh, look at that, she’s nervous. Henry nods, a simple gesture to encourage her.

‘Growing up,’ she then says, ‘I missed out on a lot and though the dreams of meeting someone, get married and start a life together were what kept me going at the time, deep down I kinda knew it would never happen to me. No love, no care, no someone who would unconditionally show me what affection exactly entailed. Never in a million years did I think I would meet a guy like you.’

Henry squeezes in her hand as he notices the tears burning in her eyes.

‘You’re everything I ever wished for and even more than that. Henry, I know I tell you this a lot, but… Thank you for barging into my life, for completely changing it, for helping me to become a better version of myself, for believing in me and for always loving me. I don’t think I could say that I would be where I am now if it weren’t for you. I love you.’

He brings her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on it, before grabbing his own piece of paper. Shit, he shouldn’t cry, but seeing the things he wants to say to her, is making him slightly teary. ‘Sweet Becky,’ he says, ‘believe it or not, but I accepted the fact that I would die a single man, however you changed my life for the better. I think it started with that sweet smile of yours, when I realized I never ever wanted to live another day without you. The fact it took so long before the two of us finally got together, is all my fault and I totally take the blame for that one.’

She chuckles.

‘I love you, Becky and I promise you I will take good care of you, love you forever and ever and try to be the best husband I can be for you, though you deserve so much better.’

They slide on the rings and when he finally hears the words: ‘You may kiss the bride,’ he doesn’t waste a second before pressing a loving kiss on her lips. Their first kiss as husband and wife.

‘I love you,’ he whispers against her lips. ‘I love you so much, Becky.’

‘I love you too, Henry,’ she says. ‘And I’ll forever do that.’

✤ ✤ ✤

Genevieve wouldn’t be Genevieve if she wouldn’t speech at the wedding reception. ‘Okay,’ she says, ‘if I can have your attention, please.’

The seventy guests they invited are all quiet and Genevieve gracefully thanks them.

‘I have known Becky for quite a few years now and let’s just say that she was hitting rock bottom at a very tender age.’

‘Gen,’ Becky says, frowning and pouting a little.

‘I promise you, it’ll be a lovely speech.’ Genevieve clears her throat and says: ‘She was always happy, but there was always this certain… How do I say this? Emptiness to it. Like her life didn’t have the right seasoning. But then this lady met Henry and lemme tell you: I was very jealous at first. Greg, honey, no offense, but damn, I was this close of leaving you.’

‘You and me both, baby,’ Greg chuckles.

‘The thing between these two, was that there was this spark, something they had yet to discover themselves. I mean, the two of them spend Christmas and the universe what other festive days together and didn’t confess their undying love for one another. How oblivious do you want it?’

Becky places her hand on Henry’s and with his thumb of his other hand, he caresses her wedding ring.

‘So, when these two finally admitted their love for each other, they are just disgusting as you can imagine. I hate it, but love it at the same time. You know, our sweet Becky deserves the world and Henry is the only one that comes even remotely close to what she deserves.’

‘Aw, that’s so sweet,’ Becky says.

‘Mister Sehun, kind sir, please cover your ears, because I’m gonna say something about your daughter you might not like.’

‘Gen, I swear to—’ Becky starts, while Sehun covers his ears and that’s when Genevieve says: ‘These two fuck like bunnies and honestly no one can tip to their sex life. I can know, I caught them once, but that’s all I’m gonna say about the matter.’

Becky looks over to Henry, who can’t hide his smirk, because it’s kinda funny. He presses a kiss on her temple and Genevieve gestures to Sehun to uncover his ears, as the rest of the crowd starts to laugh.

‘In conclusion, these two are everything every couple wants to be, but never will be. I’m so forever grateful that Becky found herself a good man and Henry should know that this woman is a once in a life opportunity. No matter how intense and intimidating he looks, I’ll make sure Greg will try and kick your delicious looking ass.’

Becky shakes her head, as she starts to laugh. ‘I appreciate it, Gen. Thank you.’

The afternoon turns into the night and after multiple dances, the married couple stands near the side, admiring the guests dance around. After it turned out that Sehun was a wonderful dancer, Gen and Viola pried him away from Becky to dance with him as well.

Henry wraps his arms around Becky’s waist, pressing a kiss on her temple as he gently sways her on the rhythm of the music. ‘Daddy can’t wait for all those people to go,’ Henry whispers in her ear.

‘And why is that?’ she asks, placing her hands on his.

‘Because I need to show you how much I love you, especially since you’re my wife now.’

‘Your wife,’ she says in a content tone. ‘Sounds amazing, you know?’

‘I can easily get used to it,’ he says. ‘Mrs. Cavill.’

✤ ✤ ✤

The door of their hotel suite has only shut for a second, when Henry says: ‘As gorgeous as you look in your wedding dress, I need you to take it off.’

Becky bats her eyes, as if she doesn’t understand why. ‘Why?’

‘Because you are my wife now and I need you.’ He takes off his tie and throws it to the corner of the room. ‘Fuck, baby, I need you so bad.’

‘Then you need to help me out of this thing, because I can’t reach the back.’

‘My pleasure.’ He unzips the dress and he presses a kiss on her bare shoulder. ‘I love you, baby girl.’

‘I love you too,’ she whispers. ‘I really do.’

Oh, does he love that tone. He turns her around as the dress slides down her body. ‘You’re not wearing a bra, baby girl?’

‘It has cups in it,’ she explains, as Henry explores her body with his hands. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Becky chuckles. ‘Honey, you’ve seen me naked before.’

‘I indeed do,’ he says, ‘but I haven’t seen you naked as my wife yet.’

‘Is it different?’

He nods. ‘In such a good way. I’m so in love with you and your beautiful body. Fuck,’ he mumbles, wrapping his fingers around the waistband of her underwear and pulls it down. ‘We’re married now, baby girl.’

‘I know,’ she chuckles. ‘Daddy, please make love to me.’

‘Make love?’ he asks with a chuckle. ‘I don’t know about that.’

She bites her bottom lip, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. ‘Well, let’s get you out of that suit first, okay?’

✤ ✤ ✤

Henry cannot help but completely worship Becky’s body, even as she shivers next to him on the bed. His chest is covered in her juices, as she squirted all over him as she was riding him. As she is on her stomach, her legs a little shaky and a thin layer of sweat on her back, he opens the bedside table. ‘I brought something, sweetheart.’

‘What is it?’ he hears her ask, while he pulls her up by her hips. She rests on her knees and knows exactly how to arch her back.

Shit, and this woman is his wife now.

‘It’s your favorite,’ he whispers, spreading her ass cheeks apart, brushing the cold tip over her puckered hole. She moans out loud as he slowly pushes it in. ‘Fuck, you take it so well.’ He smacks her bottom and not wasting anymore time, he thrusts his painfully hard member deep inside of her. Her hands clench into fists, as she holds on tightly on the sheets.

‘Daddy, you feel so good,’ he hears her whine. The room is filled with her moans, the nearly obscene sounds of her wet pussy and the slapping of skin against skin.

‘You feel good too, baby girl. Fuck, you’re my wife now.’ He holds tightly onto her waist, before he pulls out and turns her over. He pushes some of her hair out of her face. ‘Mrs. Cavill,’ he says, placing his hand on her cheek.

She chuckles. ‘That’s me.’

‘You’re so beautiful.’ He spreads her legs and pushes himself back into her sensitive hole. Her velvet walls wrap around his hard member and he gives her a kiss.

The night seems endless, but definitely not in a bad way. He watches her fall apart over and over again and she takes shaky breaths, hoping to regulate a bit, as she shudders underneath him.

‘How many times have you cum, baby?’ he asks, stilling his movements, to press a kiss on her cheek. ‘Tell daddy.’

‘F- Fo- Four times.’

‘Want to make that five times,’ he starts, ‘before I fill you up?’

She lets out a dragged moan, pushing her nails in his arms. ‘Please, daddy,’ she begs.

Becky is on the verge of crying as he slowly builds up the speeds of his thrusts. He watches tears running over her cheeks, but he recognizes it. He knows she’s not in discomfort, merely being so sensitive and overstimulated. As long as she doesn’t safe word or he deems it necessary to stop, he will continue.

‘You’re doing so good for me, baby girl,’ he whispers, kissing the tears away. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ she whimpers. ‘You’re amazing.’ He pounds deep inside of her and her moans are becoming louder and more desperate. ‘I can’t anymore, daddy.’

‘Tell me the word and I’ll stop.’

She doesn’t. ‘I’m tired.’

‘That’s not the word.’

Becky wraps her arms around him and gives him a kiss. ‘Are you close, daddy?’

‘I am,’ he whispers. ‘Where do you want it? Still inside, darling?’

She nods, while her walls clench around him and that’s when he spills his seed. He buries his face in her neck, his lips salty as he kisses her sweaty skin, whilst riding out his high. He has stilled his movements and asks if she’s okay.

‘Just catching my breath,’ Becky chuckles, clinging against him.

‘Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth, sweetheart.’ She laughs and he gives her a kiss. ‘You did well. Daddy’s proud of you.’

✤ ✤ ✤

Genevieve: I think you two forgot I have the room below you in the hotel

Genevieve: Goodness me, how long were you at it?

Viola: Two hours and forty seven minutes

Viola: Yes, I timed, because I had a room above you and even I could hear it

Genevieve: Since we were in on the fun, you should at least give us the details

Becky: No

Genevieve: You’re no fun

Viola: I think this was just a preview of what they are gonna do on their honeymoon

Genevieve: Oh right, the honeymoon on the sex island

Becky: You guys…

Viola: The NAKED honeymoon on the sex island

✤ ✤ ✤

Becky’s wedding dress

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #sugar daddy!henry cavill #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x becky kim #asian ofc #becky kim #sugar sugar #sugar sugar the wedding

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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Ties That Bind, Debts That Burden | Curtis Everett x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817‘s august challenge! my prompt was the gif!

summary: you didn’t expect the man who bought you to be so kind. you didn’t expect to fall for him, either.

warnings: death of a parent character, kidnapping, implied noncon/mentions of noncon, sexism, sexual slavery (mentioned), dub con (but not in the way you’re expecting), implied age gap (everyone is over 18!! as always!!), semi-public sex, breeding kink, loss of virginity, pain kink (slightly)

word count: a bit over 4k (and I wrote it all in one day... hey that rhymes!)

[this is another one of those things where the fic itself is dark due to the subject matter, but the character in question is not ‘dark’ in the traditional sense. so, curtis is a good dude, it’s everyone else that sucks; this is a dark fic tonally, but not sexually per se]

Life in the tail section was ruthless. It was all about survival, and survival was about being stronger than others. You weren’t strong. What you did have was your father, and he had kept you safe all your life, even before the two of you had lived in this terrible place. He was a sort of leader; people looked up to him, and as a result, they obeyed his wishes to stay away from you. Even so, you could sense that a lot of the men in the train were just waiting for their chance to take you. Women who didn’t have significant skills to offer, women like you, were seen as a commodity with only one purpose. Less like wives and more like slaves, they were traded, sold, and bartered for like clothes or rations. It made you feel sick, but most of all it made you terrified for what would happen when your father couldn’t protect you anymore. He was strong, but old, and so tired. You hated to see how hard he had to work so late into his life, just so that you wouldn’t have to suffer.

When he died, it almost didn’t feel real. Even though it was sort of expected with the way his health had been declining for months, it was nothing you ever could’ve imagined. A world without your father meant a world you were truly alone in… and only now did you confront the real cruelty of life in the tail section.

You woke up to being dragged by your hair; you screamed and kicked, but there was little you could do as you were thrown down onto the floor. Your worthless fighting was muted as rags were used to bind your wrists and ankles, and a gag silenced you. You looked up to see you were surrounded by men, with one-- you were pretty sure his name was Jamie, you’d seen him around before-- standing up and hovering over you.

“Her father is finally dead!” he announced to the crowd with a dirty smile that was missing a few teeth. “I got my hands on her first, but I’m willing to sell her to any reasonable bidders.”

“Five rations,” one voice quickly jutted in.

“Five-- what the fuck are you talking about, man? Everyone’s been drooling over this little tart for years and you offer me five rations?! Get a grip,” Jamie spat.

“Twenty,” another called out.

“Getting warmer,” Jamie laughed. “Come on, boys, she’s never known a man before. This is truly a priceless opportunity.”

“Thirty!”

“Thirty-three!”

“Best I can do is thirty-five.”

“This is preposterous,” Jamie scoffed. “She’s a virgin, and look how cute she is when she cries! If nobody’s gonna make me a suitable offer,” he growled, suddenly grabbing you by your neck and putting his face right against yours, “maybe I’ll keep you for myself, hm?”

You sobbed and tried to squirm away but it was beyond useless, your bound limbs overpowered easily as he held you down and licked a stripe up the side of your face, just to hear you scream behind your gag.

“I’ll take her,” a deep voice boomed suddenly. “A hundred rations.”

“A-- what?” Jamie stammered.

You tried to look around at who it was but you couldn’t see very well in the dark.

“It’s more than enough,” the man continued. “Hand her over.”

“Curtis,” Jamie greeted awkwardly, and your eyes went wide with recognition, “I… didn’t take you for the bartering type.”

That was an understatement. You knew Curtis, like some of the more chivalrous men of the back car, was a long-standing boycotter of this sort of activity. He didn’t even seem interested in the women who wanted to sleep with him, let alone those who were being sold against their will. Seemed like his patience had worn out, and he was finally giving in to his biological needs, no matter who would suffer cruelty along the way. Just your luck that it would be you for sale when he gave up on his morals.

“I didn’t take you for the type to stall when he’s offered a great deal,” Curtis replied coldly. “Now give me the girl and take your payment.”

Something must have changed hands, but you were too busy staring at the corrugated steel floor and hoping it was all a dream that would end any moment.

You lurched back as Jamie picked you up again, tossing you to Curtis who caught you awkwardly.

“Have fun with her,” Jamie encouraged, “make sure it’s loud enough so we can all hear; a little consolation prize for the rest of us.”

Curtis said nothing as he turned and dragged you to his bunk, ignoring your muffled pleas. When he set you down, he kneeled beside you and put a hand on each shoulder to brace you.

“I’m going to take off this gag, and your ties,” he offered, “but you need to stop crying, okay? Everything will be alright. I won’t hurt you.”

You weren’t sure you believed that, but you tried to steady your breathing. Maybe if you did what he said, he would be gentle with you…

You nodded slowly, and he untied the gag. Your sore mouth appreciated the reprieve as you wiggled your mouth around to stretch your lips. You had sort of assumed that whoever bought you would leave the restraints on, so that you wouldn’t fight back. But Curtis was so strong and healthy, he didn’t even need to bind you: your body tensed up again at that realization.

“Shh, shh, calm down,” he requested as he worked on the knot around your feet, “you don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Finally your limbs were freed, though that freedom was wasted on exhaustedly falling to the cold steel floor.

“Use this rag to clean off a little,” he instructed, handing you a cloth that had been soaked in water, “and go back to sleep for the night.”

“You… you’re not going to…?” you murmured, confused.

“I don’t believe in enslavement,” he shook his head. “Your father was a good man; he did a lot for me, even when I had nothing to offer him in return. He told me to pay him back by keeping you safe after he was gone.”

You hadn’t realized your father knew Curtis so well. You’d seen him around, sure, but he was more a stranger than anything.

“Thank you…” you whispered, your voice hoarse and ragged.

“You need to rest,” he whispered back. “You can sleep in my bed-- someone’s already claimed yours, I’m sure. I’ll be on the floor beside you if you need me.”

Your cheeks burned with guilt. “Curtis, don’t do that. You spent so much on me... I don’t want to be any more of a burden.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” he soothed, “we can talk in the morning. Get your sleep.”

After washing yourself hastily with the rag (focusing most on wherever Jamie had touched you), you slipped into the sheets on his mattress, finding him different from the ones you were used to, but comfortable in spite of the unfamiliarity.

Curtis settled in on the floor, and in the near-darkness you could just make out the silhouette of his face as he closed his eyes and relaxed against a roll of tattered clothes as an improvised pillow. You’d always thought he was handsome, and the impression you’d gotten was that he was patient, and honorable, but kept to himself. You could remember just a few nights ago when you never could’ve imagined this being your new life. Although you did wonder if Curtis was simply waiting for the morning to claim you, in the meantime you decided to take him at his word and just be thankful that someone seemingly kind had bought you instead of Jamie or his fellow bidders.

Two weeks later...

If anything, it was odd how little Curtis had asked of you. He didn’t even really talk to you. Even your father expected you to help him with anything you could; sometimes it was just keeping him company, listening to him. But Curtis all but avoided you. All that said, his presence was rarely needed to keep you safe. People respected your father, but they feared Curtis. He wasn’t violent-- well, he wasn’t violent typically. Nearly a week ago he had gone to fisticuffs for you after a man had tried to grope you. The weird thing was that you hadn’t even realized Curtis was nearby: one moment you were alone and being pulled into a stranger’s oppressive form as he purred in your ear, the next Curtis had appeared and shoved him off of you. That seemed to get the point across that Curtis’ things were not to be touched.

Feeling guilty, you decided to do whatever chores you could think of while he was away from his ‘room’ (which was, of course, not a room at all but a bed draped with a canopy of tattered fabric in order to create some privacy). You waited for his return with a little smile on your face, sure he would be grateful for your service and maybe would start to warm up to you more.

“Hi, Curtis,” you greeted with a peppy grin when you saw him approaching, jumping up from where you had been sitting.

“You washed my clothes,” he noticed instantly.

Your smile fell when you realized that he wasn’t happy. “Did I do something wrong?” you asked sheepishly.

“You are not my slave; I cannot make that more clear,” he frowned. “Never do a chore on my behalf again.”

“Please, Curtis. You’ve done so much for me, just let me prove my usefulness.”

“You want to be useful? Stay out of harm’s way.”

“Oh, I see,” you sneered, “you don’t want me to do your chores because I am your chore. Is that all you see me as? A debt you are repaying to my father?”

He seemed confused by that question. “What else could I see you as?”

“A partner!” you protested. “A woman!”

He grabbed you suddenly, pulling you into him by your wrists. “Stop talking like that. I won’t hear any more of it. Just stay quiet and take care of yourself.”

He dropped you as you began to cry, crumpling into a ball on the floor.

“Don’t cry,” he frowned. “Why could you be crying, when all I told you was that you don’t have to do anything?”

“I suppose I should be thankful that you’re not sadistic,” you explained with a shaky, weak voice, “but you’re still plenty cruel to me, I hope you know that. You ignore me completely-- and no one else will talk to me, because they’re afraid to upset you. I’ve never been so alone.”

He sighed and sat down beside you on the floor. “I never meant to…” he trailed off. “I bought you to save you from them. Not because I had any purpose for you.”

“I have no purpose,” you stated plainly, moving from sad to stoic. “Don’t you hear how sad that sounds? Can you blame me for being upset when you’re telling me straight to my face that I’m useless?”

He seemed to at least see where you were coming from with that, looking to the side with an oddly guilty look in his eyes.

Suddenly, he reached to pull up his shirt and you gasped when you saw a cut along his side.

“I fell,” he explained, “and scraped against something.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you comforted to the best of your ability, “I hope it’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“It’s not, but I’m worried it’ll get infected.”

You thought for a moment. “I could… help you clean it?”

“Sure,” he nodded, “that would be nice. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” you shrugged as you grabbed a rag to dampen. “I’ll be right back.”

You cleaned his wound in silence, carefully washing away the dried blood, even when he sucked in breaths through his teeth as you touched the sensitive places. The task at hand distracted you from your previous outburst; this was exactly proof of why you needed things to do, you’d go crazy otherwise.

“I don’t think it’ll need stitches,” you informed him as you put the rag away and rolled his shirt back down. “We’ll just clean it again tomorrow and I bet that’ll be enough.”

“Good,” he nodded.

The day was winding down to a close already, and you looked around to see a lot of the people nearby starting to prepare for bed, if they weren’t already on their mattresses with their eyes and ears covered to block out the distractions of those still awake.

“I think you should take the bed tonight, since you’re injured,” you offered. Up until now, you’d been alternating nights on the floor; it was the only compromise you two could come to.

“I couldn’t ask you to sleep on the ground two nights in a row,” he shook his head.

“You’re not asking me to. I’m telling you that I will.”

“I won’t take the bed.”

You crossed your arms and grinned stubbornly. “Then we’ll both be on the floor.”

“Fine,” he sighed with defeat, “I’ll take the bed, but only if you share it with me. I can never sleep well when all I can think about is how cold and uncomfortable you must be.”

You were surprised to hear that, because you had always felt the same way on the nights you were in the bed. Seemed both of you were getting worse sleep than you let on.

“F-fine,” you stammered, realizing how little space the two of you would have to work with on the mattress, “we’ll share it then.”

“Might help with the cold anyway,” he shrugged as he stood up, removing his outermost layer of clothes before slipping behind the curtain that surrounded the bed. You swallowed, as if you hadn’t realized until now that you were going to be in bed with him so soon.

You removed your jacket as well; even though you normally liked to sleep in something less bulky than the dress you were wearing now, you figured he would protest if you were in any state of undress while sharing a bed with him.

As you pulled the curtain aside, you found him already on the farther side of the bed, facing away from you. He was so far off the edge that he surely would’ve fallen if there wasn’t a wall on the other side.

“Curtis, you’re twice my size and you’ve left nearly two-thirds of the bed for me,” you chuckled, slipping into the covers with him and noticing how much space was still left between you. “Relax, won’t you?”

“Alright,” he relented, laying back a little as his shoulder brushed against yours.

“Goodnight, Curtis,” you mumbled as you settled in and got as comfortable as could be reasonably expected, letting your eyes fall shut. Sure, it took awhile, but with a forced relaxation you were able to drift to sleep and stay that way for quite some time.

At some point, you awoke to the softest noise beside you. At first you thought it was just your dream, but then you heard it again-- Curtis was breathing strangely, and you jumped up when you heard a strained noise of pain.

“Curtis!” you hissed into the dark. “Are you hurt? Is everything alright?”

“What?” he stammered, jolting away from you.

“You were--” you started to explain, but then you realized he was palming at his trousers; specifically, he was stuffing his cock back into them. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I didn’t-- sometimes you just-- I never meant to--”

“Are you feeling… frustrated?” you asked him softly, moving a little closer to where he was pressing himself back against the wall.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, “I’m fine.”

“Let me help you,” you pleaded. “I wanted to help you so much, but there was nothing I could do. Let me do this, please. I want you to feel good…”

“Your father, I promised him--” he began, but you interrupted.

“Don’t talk about my father,” you requested. “You kept your promise. I’m safe. Let me thank you for all you’ve done.”

Your hand reached out and made contact with his heaving chest through the thin layer of his shirt, beginning to trail down over his stomach and finally to the hard outline inside his trousers.

“W-wait,” he stuttered quietly, even though you felt him quietly sigh with relief as you palmed at his erection.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” you whispered-- so quiet even you could barely hear it-- as you leaned in and your nose brushed against his cheek. “I wanted you for so long, Curtis, did you not know? Wanted to touch you… wanted to make love with you…”

He let out a long-held breath as you reached into his trousers and wrapped your arm around his length. It was so hot in your palm; it warmed you in the most intoxicating way.

“R-really?” he murmured.

“Of course I did,” you answered, moving your hand and slowly stroking him. God, the poor man must’ve been so pent-up: he was bucking into your touch already, his cock so hard that you wondered if it was hurting him. “Every woman on the train lusts for you. To have you so close and not be able to do anything about it, it was torture.”

“Nothing compared to what it was like,” he groaned softly, “to want to have you for so long and feel horrible for it.”

You began to pump his cock faster, seeking more of those beautiful noises he was making. The way his length flexed against your palm made arousal tingle all throughout your body.

His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingertips brushing up against your hairline and making you shiver. He whispered your name and you felt like putty in his hands, so distracted by your own need that the pace of your strokes faltered briefly.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments longer-- foreheads pressed together, shivering and shaking and panting in each other’s arms-- before a rush of adrenaline gave you the confidence to speak.

“I want it inside me,” you whispered against his ear. “Please, Curtis, I want you inside me.”

You swung your leg over to straddle him, pushing yourself up off of his chest. He whispered your name with shock as you lifted your tattered dress and pulled it over your shoulders.

“Touch me,” you begged. “Didn’t you want to? I wondered if you did. I wondered how your hands would feel…” you trailed off as you grabbed his wrists and guided his hands to your waist. They were strong and rough, and so hot against your skin that you thought you might just burn up right there. He moved them on his own then, sliding them up to your breasts which he gently grasped. You sighed a little and melted into his touch.

His thumbs teased your nipples, which were already hard and alert. You tried your best to suppress your moans, aware that many other passengers were sleeping nearby. Secretly, the idea that they would hear Curtis pleasuring you was almost titillating. You hoped it would make them all jealous.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, “and… smooth…”

“Did you long for me?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Yes,” he finally admitted, “yes, I wanted you. I want you now.”

You reached down and grasped his cock again, guiding it to your wet, swollen opening. He made a noise that sounded something like a whimper and a groan as the head of his cock moved through your folds.

As you sunk down, you tried to ignore the burn of his cock stretching you open, though a pained whimper escaped your lips.

Curtis’ hands gripped your hips tight enough to bruise as you slowly took more and more of him into you. His head fell back with a groan, lost in the way your walls gripped him tighter than he thought possible. In that moment, he wanted more than anything to hold you close and never let go.

You shivered as your hips met his, feeling full in a way you could’ve never imagined. It still stung as he forged a new path inside you, moulded you to his shape, but you didn’t mind because it was him.

You were so weak that you struggled to lift yourself on top of him, but he gently guided you to lessen your load. Your body adjusted to him rather slowly, and every time you rocked your hips made you hiss with discomfort along with the sparks of pleasure burning through your gut. Even when it hurt, you wanted more; if nothing else, the noises of his restrained ecstasy spurred you on.

Leaning down, you laid yourself on his chest so that you could hear him better, and him you. His arms wrapped around you and you felt small; normally, feeling small meant feeling weak, vulnerable, scared… but in his arms, it was wonderful. You felt vulnerable, yes, but protected.

Your name tumbled from his lips like a whispered chant as you moved on top of him, and you whispered his name back. The way his cock rubbed against your insides felt so good that you couldn’t even remember that it hurt before, but then again, you couldn’t remember anything from before right now and you didn’t want to.

Your moans got louder and louder, though they were still relatively quiet, but either way they were like music to his ears, sweet and soft and all for him-- just like you.

“S-stop,” he groaned, “you have to stop.”

“Why?” you gasped, feeling a little guilty for not instantly obeying, and yet too lost in pleasure to stop moving your hips.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll come,” he explained breathlessly, “and you could get pregnant.”

You bit your lip, feeling your face warm with an emotion you were sure you hadn’t experienced before. “What if that’s what I want?”

“Fuck,” he sighed.

“What if I want you to come inside me? What if I want to have your baby?” you continued.

You managed to suppress your yelp as he grabbed you and flipped you both over until you were on your back and he was hovering over you.

“Is that what you want?” he asked with a low growl.

“Yes,” you gasped, “Curtis, it’s all I ever wanted.”

“Fuck,” he moaned, pulling back and thrusting into you again. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders, nearly folding you in half as he fucked into you so deep that you could scream. You didn’t, but you wanted to. “Gonna fill you up so good… you’re gonna be so full,” he promised, “you’re gonna be mine.”

“I already am,” you promised, “I always was.”

He leaned down to dominate your lips with a searing kiss, fucking you deep and slow but with an increasing ferocity. Each thrust was harder than the last until the most prominent sound was the slapping of skin, your arousal so prominent that it was beginning to leak and drip down your thighs and ass.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled, right against your ear.

“You,” you moaned, “I belong to you, Curtis.”

“Fuck yeah you do.”

You gripped his arms tight as you felt your walls spasming with your orgasm-- it was unlike anything you’d felt before, even though you’d touched yourself plenty of times up until now. Already you knew you were going to be addicted to this feeling. Poor Curtis; you were going to be begging him to fuck you day and night if this was how good it felt.

The tightening of your body around him, and the way you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming with pleasure… it was all too much for him to hold back any more, and with a stuttered groan he spilled himself into you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. He relaxed on top of you as he reciprocated, both of you basking in the glow of the moment.

“Don’t pull out yet,” you pleaded as the kiss ended, “just hold me a little longer, won’t you?”

“Of course,” he smiled softly, placing one small, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Did you really want me for so long, like you said?” you pressed, remembering what he’d said and fearing it was just a sweet nothing in the heat of the moment.

“You have no idea how long,” he sighed. “I dreamed of this; of you being mine.”

“Was it everything you imagined?”

“And more,” he assured with a soft laugh. “Best hundred rations I ever spent.”

#how did this turn out so fluffy??? lmao #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #ehhh that's enough tags right?#shamelesshoesforchris

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

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any tips in writing a yandere midoriya? i’m currently writing this book — and honestly the way you write midoriya is spot on! it’s hard for me to grasp characters, especially since they’re gonna be tweaked since they’re yandere. it’s not only midoriya that’s a yandere, it’s poly, so how do you think he would go about sharing his darling as well?

How to write yandere ! Midoriya Izuku

First: let’s look at the basics, as in key personality traits.

Midoriya is seemingly two things personality wise: he is optimistic and passionate. These two things however are strictly based a certain mindset, certain emotions, emotions that are highly volatile, as in changeable. What we can take from him being optimistic and passionate, is that he is calculating, observant, diligent and tireless. These traits, as opposed to the emotional traits, lack needing to be fueled by certain emotions such as happiness, and will therefore survive no matter his emotional state, which in turn makes them his key personality traits. Viewed in other ways: these are his key personality traits because they are unshakable as opposed to his awkwardness, anxiety and self-doubt, which are also things he can overcome, (things he has overcome in my take of him). All in all, no matter his emotional state, he will always remain calculating, observant, diligent and tireless.

Now: having these traits calls for different abilities, a.i. they add up and award him with certain titles. Titles such as Hero, Genius... God.

Being a genius, where his experience as one of the most revered people in the world has led to many opportunities in dissecting and analyzing all his peers, meaning he has a great understanding of the human psyche, which in turn distances himself from them and makes him feel above them. Because, despite being superior, he is still human and still vulnerable to all human faults, and when humans are worshipped, they will think they are God, forgetting their purpose in the light of glory, forgetting that he is a Hero for the people, of the people, by the people and beginning to believe he’s above the law, (which eventually leads to him justifying kidnapping for his pleasure). He genuinely believes no other human can achieve his level of strength and smarts. And having a God complex as well as being psychopathic-smart, will lead to the bending and eventually breaking of morals, where he can excuse his depravity with it being conscious and not mindless, he can excuse it for being for the greater good, something above regular human understanding. Thinking that: because he’s aware of it being wrong, that it is somehow allowed, somehow less dangerous and justified. Completely blinded by his own sense of superiority, never once seeing just how dangerous his feelings of being above the law can become, (definitely not seeing it when eventually regarding his darling).

Secondly: we have to take a look at how Midoriya views love.

Because Midoriya is such an intelligent person who knows the natural laws and works behind love, knowing how it’s simply a chemical reaction made to make animals breed with nothing supernatural or mystical or heavenly about it, he’ll naturally have a very unromantic and practical approach to finding a partner. He’ll want to resist falling prey to dependence.

But, even he cannot fight the vicious bite of loneliness. Finding a perfect someone after so many years of resisting and ignoring and denying those primal urges obviously gets to him in the end, where finding his darling feels almost like godsend. Which was exactly what he was trying to avoid falling prey to, where he was aiming to rise above regular human needs, regular human beliefs regarding love: a concept he had no faith in, a concept he didn't want to have any faith in, but fell for anyway.

However, while beholding his darling as something precious, his own God complex gets in the way of viewing her as his equal, where she’ll often feel as though he doesn’t even view her as human, more like a pet or even a plant, not something to communicate with, but something that should sit still and look pretty, something to maintain and admire, not intelligent like him.

But, there are different types of smarts in the world. Whereas Izuku has practical, social and analytical intelligence, he’s more or less let go or forgotten about true emotional intelligence. Which is something that will surprise him about his darling, or something that will surprise him about himself, how much he enjoys her presence, her humanity, her basic straightforward moralistic compassion, her need for contact, things he’s long ago forgotten, things he’s only now realizing that he’s missed dearly. At first he believes he’s simply entertained by her, but then he realizes he quite admires her, envies her even, because she’s innocent enough to feel things that he no longer can.

Thirdly: we have his yandere characteristics: sadistic, obsessive, possessive.

-Sadism (groundwork)

It is simply my belief that all yanderes have an inch of sadism dwelling inside them, because I find it hard to digest that any other human without such desires would enjoy controlling another human being. However, the amount of sadism inside may vary drastically.

Midoriya’s sadistic tendencies lies dormant, yet can come out at any given moment, making him rather radical, as in unstable or unpredictable. Though, not like an animal is unpredictable, as he will never act without finesse, he will never act without having complete control over the situation, including himself. We have to remember that Izuku takes great pleasure in knowing how he can rise above impulses. His sadism is more like a hunger that arises every now and again, where which Izuku realizes he is hungry, followed by Izuku luring and trapping his food then playing with his food and finally eating his food. Executed with finesse.

-Obsessive (one side of the coin)

Obsessiveness in general: is not just about laying worship, not just about adoring someone so much that it hurts, it’s about needing someone, needing someone so much that it outweighs and overcomes all obstacles that stand in his way to achieve having them

Obsessiveness in Midoriya: is slightly delusional, where which it tells him that him and his darling belongs together, where he’s optimistic that time will eventually gift him with her love in return. This is his softer side, his more lenient side, his understanding side, his tolerant side. And despite it being slightly delusional, this is actually his more logical side as well, where he’ll bare patient understanding that it’ll take time for her to reform herself, where he takes her emotional status into mind.

-Possessive (the other side of the coin)

Possessiveness in general: is not only about ownership, not only about restrictions, it’s about fear, it’s about reassurance, it’s about finding security in knowing that he and only he will ever have the liberty of having his darling, where he finds an inane amount of uneasiness in thinking she wasn’t always his, needing to find a way to make him forget that disgusting thought by having her belong to him in every single possible way.

Possessiveness in Midoriya: is slightly denialistic and protective, where it tells him that she belongs to him, no exceptions, no room to misunderstand, where what she feels doesn’t really matter because he loves her, he’s chosen her, and she’s simply not allowed to love anybody else, where any refusal will be corrected, will be proven futile.

Fourthly: what is Midoriya’s attitude towards his darling:

Here we add up everything we’ve just considered!

His intelligence calls for a type of deserved arrogance, a vain imagery of himself, making him a narcissist, which again makes him prone to dumbification when approaching his darling, manipulative suggestive language constantly making her feel like her rightful place is beneath him. This can be done in many ways, more so than degrading verbal comments. In visual effects: he can dress her up in innocent clothing just oozing with childlike naivety, braid her hair, decorate her with pastel bows all making her look like a sweet harmless little thing, but more importantly making her feel like a sweet harmless little thing. He can also act out degradation: through head-pats, carrying her places, bathing her. One can even take it so far as infantilization.

Obviously, the creation of rules and laws will build, also the product of his degrading nature, where the list of things his darling can and can't do or should or must do will grow longer over time as he finds that he quite enjoys having this type of control. I believe Izuku is quite lenient but has a breaking point. He won’t enjoy punishing his darling for every single little indiscretion she dares make, believing that this is both time consuming and a waste. His method is to wait until his darling has made a certain amount of faults, her mistakes topping each other like building blocks until the tower eventually tumbles, where which he will deliver a rather large punishment meant to correct her attitude once and for all, or at least until the tower topples again.

He’ll constantly be making a case of how much smarter and stronger he is than her, not in an aggressive way, but in a demeaning, patronizing way, often accompanied by him smiling a chiding smile that looks sweet yet when accompanied by his threatening eyes just look like teeth. Exercising dominance will become like a drug to him, where I’d say he’ll develop both a daddy-kink and a size-kink. His daddy-kink calling for patronizing behavior, teaching her manners and posture and punishing her when she refrains from doing what daddy tells her. And, his size-kink evokes the love to measure everything of his up against everything of hers, often comparing her soft petite precious hands to his deadly scarred ones, how she has no chance of pushing him away whereas he’ll have no problems in crushing her skull if he so wished.

Then of course, his feelings of entitlement call for him taking giant liberties when he’s craving she give him something she’d rather keep to herself. These entitlement feelings coming to fruition through his status as the world number one hero, his morals disappearing in those seconds he manages to twist his view of his darling as her own person into seeing her as his reward, as the world’s way of saying thank you, made simply to please him and having no purpose outside of him.

But, his idealization of his darling encourages him to pamper her, or at least in a way that he views as pampering. He’ll often ask her if there’s anything that she may want, either it be a wish for activity such as art supplies or reading material, or accessories such as jewelry, lingerie, cute little dresses. And when she never asks for anything he wants her to ask for, when her response is always a demand that he let her go, he’ll give her something anyway, something she’ll cry so preciously for to make him stop.

Obviously, I have expanded my view of him here, but I believe the key attitude he’ll carry towards his darling is simply being sweetly degrading, demeaning and patronizing.

Fifthly: how would he go about sharing?

In order for him to feel comfortable enough to share his darling with someone, they have to be someone he respects, someone he can almost look at as an equal or someone he looks up to and idolizes.

In other words: Midoriya will have to love his yandere partner in some form or way to share his beloved darling with them, either it be through mentioned respect, or through loyalty, where platonic or fluid friendship could also be a possibility.

Here are some examples I see being possible poly relationships:

MIDORIYA - ALL MIGHT - relationship based on idolization MIDORIYA - BAKUGO - relationship based on equality/respect MIDORIYA - SHINSO - relationship based on admiration/respect MIDORIYA - “FAN or FREIND” - relationship based on loyalty/trust MIDORIYA - URUAKA/TENYA - relationship based on friendship

I don't see sharing being much of a problem, unless the darling picks favorites. But, because Midoriya is likely much softer than the other yandere, I’m presuming, the favorite will probably be him and not his partner. In that case, he might really like having a parter to compete with! He’ll enjoy how she’ll resort to pleading with and appealing to his soft nature as opposed to the other yandere. He’ll probably love that sort of attention.

I also think Midoriya will like cornering his darling with the help of his partner, trapping her together. I can definitely see him love playing good cop/bad cop. Perhaps even sharing the daddy-kink. Dynamics like Daddy/Master/”DARLING” or Sir/Boss/”DARLING”.

Also, I think he’ll love gossiping about their darling with each other behind her back, talking about how cute she is when she does this or that, how lovely she looks in that specific dress, how well-behaved she’s gotten, and all sorts of stuff, kind of like parents talking about their child.

#yandere midoriya #yandere mha #yandere midoriya izuku #yandere my hero academia #yandere deku #yandere izuku #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya #midoriya #midoriya headcanons #midoriya izuku #mha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku

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serendipityseulgi · 4 years

Text

8 Ways of Love.

– kim hongjoong

according to the ancient greeks, there are eight different types of love. here is:

･*:༅｡ the one known as mania, the obsessive love.

aka, the kind of love that can lead you to obsession, jealousy, and madness and can be toxic if not kept under control.

TW // sexual harassment.

* italic text indicates flashback.

8 ways of love series; part ii

A not-so-healthy love story in which you reach your breaking point in your relationship, giving Hongjoong an ultimatum – to fix his toxic tendencies or to let you walk out on him forever.

love catalyst: survival.

There are times where you often underestimate how much Hongjoong truly loves you.

You don’t always fully grasp the extent he will go to make sure that everyone knows your his, and his only. The limits he will push to prove just how much you matter in his life, and the boundaries he will cross to ensure that no one would ever, ever take you away from him.

How he absolutely cannot live without you, and you can’t live without him.

Because he just loves you so much that the feeling almost consumes him, and it drives him crazy. He knows how much of an impact you have on him. How you could do absolutely nothing and he would still kiss the ground you walk on. How he worships every single part of you and will go to the absolute ends of the earth just to keep you forever. How he simply could not care about a single thing in this world except for you.

And for most people, they strive for that kind of love. The kind that consumes you so much that you would do absolutely anything and everything for your partner.

But the way Hongjoong loves you is intense, and it’s obsessive. It’s exhausting it absolutely drains all the energy out of you. To have to love and care for one another more than yourselves. That no matter what kind of shit you put each other through, you’re always going to be together.

It’s overbearing and overwhelming in all the wrong ways.

You hate how much Hongjoong loves you. Because he treats you like shit. Makes you feel like shit. Acts like you aren’t shit.

Not without him at least.

It’s unhealthy, to put it simply.

Neither one of you are that delusional, though.

You’re both painfully aware how borderline toxic your relationship is. Hongjoong’s manipulative in certain ways and he uses that to his advantage. He won’t admit it but he loves how codependent you are on him. He knows that he can fuck up a million times and you’re always gonna be there to pick up the pieces and love him again and again. He makes promises he can never keep and gives you false hope just to make sure you stay in his arms, even if it’s only for one more day. He hears you say that you hate him more than you love him, but it doesn’t matter because he knows how you feel deep down. You’re always going to love him.

He defends his behaviour, constantly telling you he only acts that way because he loves you and wants to protect you. And you know he’s not a terrible person. Aside from his possessive nature and his intense anger problem, he’s actually one of the best people you know. It’s contradictory in every sense.

It was just the way he loves you that brings out the worst in him.

You know there’s no good that could possibly come from being together anymore. You both know that by now.

But the truth is, neither one of you will ever walk away.

12:41 AM

It’s past midnight when you walk in your apartment, your heart heavy and filled with despair. Your feet hurt from standing in those wretched heels for hours, your mascara is dripping down your tear-stained face, and your head is pounding from the events that transpired only a few hours prior.

You have no words.

All you want to do is curl up in your bed and sleep away your worries. You want to ignore everything that’s happened even for just a few hours and deal with the damage in the morning, but you know he won’t let you.

He never does.

When you hear the door slam behind you, you feel a sense of deja vu.

You’ve been in this exact situation more times than you could count and you’re starting to think there’s actually no hope left in your boyfriend.

At this point in time you don’t even know if this relationship is worth salvaging anymore, and the very thought almost has you in tears.

You’re feeling a million things right now but above all, you’re just pissed beyond belief and you want to cry and wallow away in your tears. You feel every negative emotion surging through your body right now and it makes you all the more exhausted.

Hongjoong stands behind you, equally as pissed, and you refuse to acknowledge him because you know it’s all his fault.

It’s always his fucking fault.

“Y/n, look at me.” he commands, but you don’t listen.

Your back is still turned to him, eyes fixated on the marble pattern on your kitchen island as you try to suppress your anger. Your eyes start to water again and your body begins to shake.

He waits for you to face him.

But you don’t.

Because you don’t even want to talk to him right now, let alone look him in the face. You swear you’ll punch him if you do, so you save himself the trouble and start walking towards the direction of your bedroom.

Hongjoong is fast though, and he’s quick to grab onto your arm to pull you in front of him.

“Can you say something?” he asks, a little too aggressively for your liking, and you just stare at him. The glare in your eyes never falters and for a few seconds you two are just staring each other down with you still refusing to speak.

You take the opportunity to yank your arm out of his grip and he lets out a frustrated groan.

“I’m tired.” you say with a blank stare, prepared to walk away again.

“So you’re not even gonna talk at me?!” he asks with that aggression still evident in his tone.

You breathe in a heavy sigh before whipping around to face your boyfriend, your eyes narrowing immediately when you make contact with him. “What do you want me to say, Hongjoong?” you ask with frustrated tears running down your face. “What the fuck do you want me to say when you keep doing this over and over again?!”

“All you ever do is walk away when you’re pissed at me and you go off the next morning talking shit to your friends. So if you have something to say, say it to my fucking face.” he spits at you with menace and your eyes darken.

“Well what the fuck is the difference of me going to my friends and going to you?! It’s not like you ever fucking listen to me anyways! I’m sick of having to repeat myself day after day! The amount of times this has happened and the amount of times I tell you the same exact thing! When I keep asking you to change and you never do! We have this exact conversation all the time, what is the use of me talking anymore?! Nothing ever changes so why the fuck should I bother wasting all my time and energy fighting with you about the same shit that’s gonna piss you off next week?!” you shout before turning around once again.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything back to that, because deep down he knows you’re right. He knows that you’re a broken record at this point, he knows that anything you say now would just be reused arguments he’s heard in the past, he knows that he’s not going to listen to you. So he doesn’t retaliate.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?” he counters.

You take in a deep breathe. “Why don’t you tell me exactly it is that you want to hear? That I’m just going to accept the fact that you never fucking listen to me? That you somehow find it acceptable to be punching random guys in the face for looking at me? That we fight about the same shit every week? Or how you can’t seem to control your anger? How you have absolutely no regard for how you make me feel? How you think acting so possessive over me is something to be proud of?! How we’ve been together for three fucking years and the more days I spend with you the more I realize I’d rather be dead than be with you!”

Hongjoong’s face falls for a second at your words but you soon come to regret it when he’s pushing you against your counter. He’s seething inside, you can sense it. You know your words cut deep but Hongjoong won’t admit it. His ego is too big for that.

“You’re one to fucking talk.” he grits his teeth. “You act like such a fucking bitch all the time and yet I’m still willing to bend over backwards just to keep your ass happy. You overlook all the shit I do for you because you’re selfish. You think I don’t listen to you? When have you ever listened to me?! You’re so fucking ungrateful when all I’ve ever done was love you!”

You scoff. “This is what you call loving me?!” you gesture to your current position. “Hongjoong do you even realize what we’re doing right now?! Do you even acknowledge how messed up you are?! When you go around knocking guys’ teeth out for doing so much as looking at me, for picking fights with your own friends when they’re being friendly towards me, when you fucking call me names and blame me for the fact that you can’t bear the thought of another male giving me an ounce of their attention, do you think that’s fucking normal?! You’re just fucking insane!”

“You think I do that shit because I like it?” Hongjoong hissed. “No, I fucking do it because I know how guys think y/n! They’d take advantage of you if they got the chance! Use you like you’re a fucking toy to them or something! You can’t trust these people all the time! I fucking act that way to protect you!”

“Yeah is that it?” you sneer. “Or is it because you’re just so fragile and insecure inside you’re too afraid that one of these days someone might actually take me away from you and I’ll fucking leave. You think you can control them and control me by threatening them, assaulting them? You go off and snap at people who piss you off because you think you have some sort of claim over me! So are you sure you do it to protect me? Because I don’t think so. I think you do it 'cause you know you can’t function without me. Because deep down you know you’re just a little bitch without me. You’re nothing without me.” you spit at him.

“Fuck you.” Hongjoong shoves you harder into the counter, a sharp pain shooting up your spine. His arms are gripping tightly onto your own and you don’t think he realizes he’s hurting you because he’s too focused on your words and how badly they’re affecting him.

“You have a big fucking mouth sometimes you know that? You like to talk like you’re so big and purposely rile me up, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are catching an attitude with me? Watch your mouth and how you talk to me or-”

“Or what? What are you gonna do, Joong?” you challenge, shoving him away from you. “You gonna break up with me? Kick me out again? Call me a fucking slut and send me on my way?” you mock. “Or are you gonna hit me this time? Huh? Because I get you so fucking angry. Why don’t you try it? Instead of punching holes in the wall why don’t you try doing it to my face instead? I bet you want to. I bet you really want to fucking hit me. So do it. Hit me!” you push him back. “Fucking hit me!” you scream as you repeatedly hit him in the chest and Hongjoong snaps, grabbing onto your wrists tightly.

“You’re a fucking crazy bitch.” he seethes. “I may be a piece of shit but I’m not fucking abusive. I would never hit you no matter how mad you make me. So fuck you for ever thinking I’d put my hands on you. Fuck you.” he pushes you off of him.

He storms off into your bedroom, slamming the door like he always does. You stand there in the middle of your living room shaking your head. This is nothing new. It’s nothing you aren’t already used to.

You sit on the couch, burying your face in your knees as you cry. You cry with a heavy heart because you don’t know what else to do.

All you’re left with is your own thoughts, thinking about all the times you should’ve walked away.

Because God knows it should’ve happened a long time ago.

You remember the first incident like it was yesterday.

2 years, 6 months, 7 days ago.

You remember it was only six months into being with him when he had assaulted your ex in front of your eyes.

There was no remorse, no regard, nothing for the human life in front of him. Just pure rage that that good-for-nothing scumbag tried to touch you. His prized possession. The love of his life. The only thing that ever mattered to him.

Seeing your ex-boyfriend touching you like you were still his fuelled a fire inside Hongjoong like never before and he absolutely lost it.

“S-stop Chris, seriously get off me,” you stutter trying to push the male off of you.

You don’t remember how you got yourself into this situation through your drunken state.

All you know is one second you’re dancing with Irene and the next you’re pressed up against a brick wall by your ex-boyfriend.

He’s pressing you into the wall so hard it makes your body hurt and you can feel his boner rubbing against your thigh. You want to scream but when you try no sound comes out. You’re crying and your throat closes up because you can’t breath with him pinning you so tightly.

“Y/n, baby relax.” he whispers and you smell the stench of alcohol lingering on his breath. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ve never hurt you, right?” you feel like you can’t breathe. “I just wanna talk, that’s it...” his voice is gentle but it doesn’t provide you any comfort whatsoever.

“Y-you don’t have to pin me against the wall if you wanna t-talk, Chris.” you breathe out. “G-get off of me.”

“I just missed you,” he says gripping you tightly. “You missed me too right?”

“Fuck off!” you try to scream, but his heavy weight on you is restricting you from moving a muscle. “M-my boyfriend is gonna find me and he’s-”

“He’s what?” Chris snickers. “You’re dating that pussy bitch Hongjoong, right? Yeah, as if he’s gonna come to your rescue when everyone knows he’s a fucking bitch boy. You know better than to go for nice guys, right y/n?” he chuckles.

“Y-you’re drunk, Chris. Let me go.” you try to shove him back but he’s much bigger than you. You stand absolutely no chance.

“Where is your little boyfriend anyways, huh? ‘Cause I’ve been watching you since the moment you got here and all I saw was you with Irene and Seulgi. Does your boyfriend even know you’re slutting it up at a bar without him?” Chris taunts you and you cry even harder. “I wonder what he would do if he saw me and you together right now. Probably nothing right? He’s too nice for his own good. Wouldn’t touch a fucking fly.”

“Please just-”

“Relax, y/n. I know you miss me. Miss what we had. You don’t always have to play hard to get,” he whispers in your ear, pushing your dress up your thighs. “Just enjoy it and-”

“Y/n?” you hear a voice call behind you, and you recognize it almost immediately.

“Joong?” you call through your hazy vision and you take the opportunity to push the man off of you. “J-joong, I wasn’t doing what you think, he pinned me, I-i tried to get him off but he wouldn’t, fuck, it’s not what it looks like-” you can’t formulate a coherent sentence because you know exactly what it looked like and you’re afraid he won’t believe you.

“Y/n get behind me right now.” he states calmly, and you don’t hesitate. You run up behind your boyfriend as Chris stands in front of him with a cold stare.

Your heart is still beating hard against your chest and you study Hongjoong’s expression to see what his next move would be because frankly, you don’t know.

“Can I kindly ask what the fuck were you doing to MY girlfriend?” Hongjoong asks, voice still calm and collected it almost scares you.

“Hey man, no need to get upset, we were just chatting.” Chris raises his hands in defence.

Hongjoong laughs, but there’s not a hint of amusement in his tone. “Chatting, huh?” he mocks. “About what?”

“Look, with all due respect, I know she’s your girl now and everything but you have to understand me and y/n have a lot of history. Just rehashing some old shit-”

“No you weren’t.” Hongjoong interrupts.

“Excuse me?” Chris raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry but you’re being pretty fucking hostile right now, don’t you think? Like, what exactly are you trying to accomplish, you’re not very intimidating.” Chris laughs.

Your eyes are moving back and forth between the two males and you don’t exactly know what’s going to happen next. You’ve never been in this kind of situation before, let alone predict how Hongjoong would retaliate. You’ve never seen him angry before.

“You wanna know what it looked like to me?” he asks rhetorically, slowly walking towards your ex. “You were forcing her against her will to talk to you.” he states, still calm. “You were touching her. You were groping her.” Hongjoong begins backing him into the wall. “You were sexually harassing her. After she begged you to stop.” he states. “You lifted up her dress, and then what?” Hongjoong’s cornered him into the wall. “You were gonna fucking rape her. Right?”

“Woah, woah, hey, I was not gonna fucking rape her-” Chris defends.

“No?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrow. “Are you saying you weren’t trying to fuck my girlfriend?”

Chris scoffs. “That isn’t rape-”

“But she told you to stop, didn’t she?” Hongjoong folds his arms across his chest and your eyes are bulging out of your head as you witness this new side o him. “And if I wasn’t here right now... what exactly would you have done?”

“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend? She seemed to be enjoying it, right?” he turns to look at you. “Admit it, y/n. Tell your bitch of a boyfriend that you’re better off with me. Hey, do you know how fucking easy it is to get with your girlfriend? Ask me, I have experience.” Chris chuckles. “What do you think would’ve happened if you weren’t here right now? Y/n probably would’ve let me fuck the shit out of her because that’s how easy she is. Probably would’ve fucked her better than you ever have-”

Hongjoong lets out a chuckle before finally snapping. You see his fist raise up in one swift motion, and he punches him. Hongjoong punches the shit out of your ex and you let out a shocked gasp. Your hands fly over your mouth, covering your face in surprise.

“Hongjoong!” you try to stop your boyfriend but he doesn’t listen.

“Keep talking, I fucking dare you.” Hongjoong spits. He’s still punching him and it doesn’t seem like he plans on stopping anytime soon. “Your mouth is fucking shit, you know that? You’re a fucking scumbag.”

He punches him again.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit talking about girls this way.” Another punch.

“You would go as far to fucking rape her if you didn’t get what you want?” Hongjoong’s fist collides with his face again. “That’s the kind of guy you are?”

You hear another punch.

“Then you deserve to fucking die here.”

He’s hovering over your ex’s body, continuously delivering blows to his head. He doesn’t stop even when you start to see blood. It’s everywhere, coming out of his eyes, his mouth, it’s covering his entire face and it scares you.

“Hongjoong stop!” you call.

“S-stop” Chris chokes out, trying to use whatever strength he had left to stop your boyfriend from continuing his assault.

“Joong stop, you’re going to kill him!” you scream.

“Maybe I should.” Hongjoong chuckles menacingly. “He deserves it, don’t you think?” he glances at you and your eyes widen.

You shake your head. “Please.” your voice is quiet. “Just leave him.” and finally your boyfriend relents.

He spares another glance to the bloodied man on the floor who’s coughing profusely to catch his breathe, and he leans over him.

“If you ever fucking touch y/n again, I will fucking kill you.” Hongjoong growled. “I will hunt you down and fucking kill you, and I’m gonna make it slow and painful. If you do so much as breathe the same air next to her, I can promise you, I will come after you. So don’t ever think about coming near her again, you understand?” Chris doesn’t say anything and it pisses Hongjoong off.

Hongjoong grabs onto his collar, lifting him up till their faces are almost touching. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Y-you’re fucking crazy.” Chris manages to say through his coughing fit.

“Yeah I may be,” Hongjoong chuckles. “But I’m not a fucking rapist like you. I don’t force girls to do things they don’t want to. I don’t try and take away what’s already taken. Y/n’s fucking mine, you’ll never go near her again.”

Your eyes are wide with horror and you see your boyfriend’s fist covered in Chris’ blood. Your eyes scan your ex’s body laying limp on the ground, spitting out the remnants of blood out of his mouth. Hongjoong stands up looking over him, and you’re frozen with shock.

“I was fucking wrong, y/n. You should fucking leave. You don’t want to be with a guy like this, he’s a fucking psychopath-” Hongjoong kicks the words right out of his mouth and you jump back with a gasp.

“Lay here and rot.”

Hongjoong grabs onto your hand, dragging you away, and even if you want to pull your hand away, you don’t. You’re too scared to.

You’re left in a state of shock witnessing your sweet boyfriend nearly kill the man you once loved. Granted, it was probably well deserved given that he was harassing you and was about to do far worse had Hongjoong not shown up. But you don’t think it should’ve been to such an extent.

You don’t talk for the entirety of the car ride, but you do spare small glances at your boyfriend who’s eyes were directed onto the road.

Hongjoong can sense your intense stare and he sighs, turning briefly at a stoplight to face you.

“I only did that because he was gonna hurt you.” he sighs. “You know that right?”

You nod slowly. “Y-yeah.”

“Don’t be scared, baby.” he says gently, reaching over to grab your hand as you flinch slightly.

The light turns green. He averts his gaze back onto the road, but he rubs the back of your hand in an attempt to comfort you.

Your heart is racing and you know you shouldn’t fear him.

But you can’t help it.

Seeing him like that was a first, and you didn’t like it.

“Y-you didn’t have to hurt him that bad.” you whisper.

“You’re not defending him are you?” he glances at you.

“I-i’m not, Joong.” you’re quick to say.

“So why does it sound like you are?” he badgers.

“You almost killed him.” you swallow the lump in your throat.

“He was touching you, I saw him. He was going to-”

“But he didn’t.” you interrupt before he can finish his sentence. “You stopped him before he could do anything. And I’m thankful that you did but... that should’ve been it. We should’ve walked away, but you just ... you kept going.”

“He was hurting you, y/n, I couldn’t let that slide.” he tries to defend.

“But you weren’t you back there, Joong. I’ve never seen you so... violent. I didn’t like it.”

“I’m sorry baby. I couldn’t help it. I was just protecting you.”

His words repeat over and over in your head, but you can’t ignore the sinking feeling in your gut. He almost killed him. He threatened to kill him. You’ve seen possessive before, but not to this degree.

No, what happened back there wasn’t normal.

You don’t talk anymore after that, instead counting down the minutes till you were safe and sound in the comfort of your home.

When you do get home you run off into the shower immediately, wanting to wash away how disgusting and dirty you felt after what you witnessed.

You shoot Irene a text to tell her you made it home okay and she lets you know she’s gone home with Seulgi and is glad you’re safe.

You spend a long time in the shower, trying to ease your racing mind and your thumping heart. You know Hongjoong’s waiting for you in bed, he can’t sleep properly without you in his arms. But you dread the moment you have to get out and face the reality of what happened. So you choose to stay in there until the heat runs out.

You hate to admit that you don’t want to be near him right now, but you can’t help it when your mind keeps flashing back to seeing your boyfriend’s eyes fill with rage. How he went from being so calm to snapping in an instant. How he mostly like broke your ex’s nose and most likely gave him a concussion, and left him there without a single ounce of guilt.

You don’t say anything when you enter your bedroom, and Hongjoong notices your distant behaviour.

“Y/n, can you come here please?” he asks gently and you lock eyes with him.

You don’t know what else to do except comply, and the minute you’re sat next to him, he pulls you into his arms.

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier.” he apologizes, and you snuggle deeper into his arms.

“It’s okay, it just.. caught me by surprise that’s all.” your throat burns as you suppress your tears.

“You know why I did it though. I would never let anyone hurt you.” he states and you nod. “I just hate the thought of someone else touching you. Especially him.”

“I know.”

“I had to get rid of him someway, right?” he asks, it’s a rhetoric question so you stay silent. “This way he won’t ever come near you again.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” your voice is quiet and your vision starts to blur from holding in your tears.

“I love you, y/n.” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“I love you too.” you choke out.

“You’re all mine right?”

You nod again, this time letting the tears fall down your face.

“All yours.”

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to give him the power of being able to control you. But you tell him what he wants to hear because you don’t know what he would do if you didn’t.

“Promise me you won’t ever leave me.” he begs his arms tightening around your body. “I don’t know what I would do if you ever did.”

Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest that it hurts and your mind is panicking with so many thoughts. You’re scared, but you also know you still love him.

And you want to give him the benefit of the doubt that this incident was just a one time slip up, so you forgive him, and you commit to his promise.

“I promise.” you gulp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Little did you know how true that statement would be.

Hongjoong falls asleep next to you, with your head on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat rings in your ears. You look up at his sleeping state and your eyes start to water once more.

You think about how he was a good boyfriend, one that made you happy and did everything he could to ensure you stayed that way. He was sweet, he was kind, he was everything you wanted.

You look at Hongjoong and think about how he made you smile and laugh like no other person ever had, how made you feel safe in his arms, how he kissed away your tears when you were sad, and how he treated like you an absolute goddess, never making you think otherwise. He was there to provide you comfort and pleasure, and he was good at everything he did.

Up until that point he was perfect.

A little too perfect that you knew there had to have been something wrong with him.

And now you knew.

You tried to rationalize his flaws with all the redeeming qualities he had.

He was good to you.

He absolutely doted you.

He loved you.

So why was it right now, looking at him at this very moment, you wanted to throw up in disgust at the mere sight of him.

2:07 AM

You think about that first incident as you sit curled up on your couch, and you’re left wondering why you continued to stay after that. That should’ve been your first sign to get the fuck out and leave.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

And right now, you’re looking at yourself with disgust.

Seeing as how things haven’t gotten any better.

No improvement, no changes.

Nothing.

So why the fuck are you still here? you ask yourself.

But you know it’s because you love him. That you’ve never loved anyone the way you loved Hongjoong. You knew from the moment you met him you knew you wanted him to be your forever.

But this wasn’t what you meant.

This wasn’t what you signed up for when you gave your entire being to this very man.

You’re smart enough to know you’re only going to keep getting hurt. But your love for him remained so strong and completely outweighed the bad. You know you’ll never be able to bring yourself out the door and leave him behind.

You’re stuck with him. Forever.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door opening, and you watch as Hongjoong passes the kitchen into the living room where you’re sat. You don’t know how much time has passed until you look over to the clock and see that it’s been well over an hour and you have yet to move a muscle.

Hongjoong walks over to you as he sits down beside you.

“Are you done having your bitch fit?” he chided and your eyes narrow at him.

“That’s how you’re really going to start this conversation right now?” you scoff.

“What, you think I was gonna come here and beg for your forgiveness? I didn’t peg you for an idiot, y/n.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that? It’s like you want to keep fighting with me!” you shout, getting up from your spot to stand in front of him. “You make me feel like I don’t have a right to be pissed at you and then you come back an hour later and talk to me this way?”

“I came down here to tell you to get the fuck up to bed. Like aren’t you fucking tired of doing this every time? Let’s just fucking be done with this shit and go to sleep and-”

“And what? Deal with it in the morning? Or fuck me until I eventually forgive you? Because that’s always what happens right? You know exactly how to make things better, right? But it’s always temporary! We’re always just gonna keep coming back to this over and over again! Nothing’s changed in the last three years!”

“You’re constantly throwing around the fact that I don’t listen to you, that I don’t fucking change, but what about you? What have you done for me to compromise?!” he retorts.

“Compromise on what?! All I’ve been asking you to do was to control your behaviour! Stop acting so possessive and violent over me because you should know by now, I’m not going anywhere! But you keep doing this, you keep lashing out on other people who don’t always deserve you, you put me in a position where I have to fix your mess, while you live a guilt free life! You’re just driving me away at this point! You continue to lie to me, saying you’re going to change and fix your behaviour but you never do! Why can’t you just do this one simple thing for me?!” you badgered with annoyance.

“Because you’re mine!” he screams at you.

You look at him with a glare, and you shake your head.

“But that’s the thing Hongjoong, I’m not! I’m nobody’s! I belong to fucking nobody but myself. You don’t fucking own me Joong. I’m with you because I love you. I stay with you because I love you. I can acknowledge that you might be bad for me but I choose to put that shit aside because I fucking love you! You make me fucking miserable and yet I stay with you when I know I fucking shouldn’t! That’s how much control you have over me!” you return.

“And everything I’ve done for you is because you have control over me! Why don’t you understand that?!” he asks, getting up in your face.

“This is fucking toxic, this isn’t good for us!” you pull at your hair in frustration.

“It’s not like you’re going anywhere anyways! If you think this relationship is too much for you, why do you continue defending me and putting up with it?!” he argues.

“Because I’m still trying to make this work!” you cry. “I’m still trying because I still love you! But I can’t keep seeing past all these problems we have! I’m done overlooking all the shit you put me through. I’m reaching my last fucking straw, Joong! I’m reaching my fucking breaking point!” you scream in frustration. “So let me make one thing clear, the minute I decide I’m done, that’s it. I will fucking leave you if you push me to it, and you’re gonna let me because you don’t own me.” you say. “I’m giving you one last chance to prove to me that you’re gonna fix up and change your attitude. I want you to prove me wrong, prove that you aren’t gonna screw up again. Because the minute you fuck up, Im gone.” you threaten.

“You’re just fucking saying that.” he scoffs. “You always fucking say that and then you come back to me!”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. “You know what, fine. Watch me leave then.” you stomp upstairs and Hongjoong follows suit.

You close the door behind you with force but Hongjoong opens it before you can shut it fully and he watches you messily grab random articles of clothing, pushing past him to retrieve every item you can take.

You’ve always made empty threats, you’ve never actually left him before and he knows you won’t. You’ve never been able to.

But when he sees you grabbing a duffle bag and filling it with clothes it actually starts to scare him.

“Cut the fucking act, y/n. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove-“

You stop forcefully throwing hangers around and throwing your clothes around so carelessly to look at him. “You think I won’t leave you? I told you to fucking watch me.” you state continuing your haphazard packing.

Hongjoong lets out a frustrated sigh and grabs onto your arms to stop you. “Stop it.”

“Fuck you, let go of me.” you spit.

“I told you to fucking stop.” he says through gritted teeth.

“I swear to god if you don’t fucking let go of my arm-”

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead he pins you to the bed, hovering over you. “You’re not fucking leaving, stop being so fucking dramatic and just go to fucking bed! It’s fucking late, you need to chill out!” he scolds but you don’t listen.

“What, so now you want to stop me?” you glare at him. “You could just kick me out again! You’ve done it before right? So why won’t you let me fucking leave this time on my own!”

“You always feel the need to bring that shit up, get the fuck over it! I’m not letting you leave-”

“WHY NOT?!”

“Because you’re acting fucking crazy and you’re out of control right now! Just fucking relax for once-”

You punch at his chest but his grip is too strong and you let out a frustrated groan. “GET THE FUCK OFF!” you screech at him but he doesn’t relent.

“Y/n, stop-”

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” you scream. “I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!”

“YOU CAN HATE ME ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU’RE NOT LEAVING ME!” he screams back at you.

You manage to free your grip from his wrists and you do the one thing you’ve never done before. You slap him.

It shocks the both of you and your mouth fall slightly open in surprise. He doesn’t say anything at first and you can tell he wasn’t expecting it either.

But then his eyes darken and they glare into your wide ones and he pulls on your wrist, teeth clenching. “Don’t ever fucking hit me again.”

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out.

“You’re not going anywhere.” he states. “I’m gonna go into the living room and you’re gonna stay in here and calm the fuck down. Then we’ll talk.” he says. “and if you still want to leave after that, fine. I won’t stop you this time. But you need to fucking relax and clear your fucking head. You’re fucking insane.”

And he leaves you alone once again.

You think about the one time you actually did leave.

But it wasn’t a choice you made on your own.

1 years, 9 months, 23 days ago.

You were used to his possessiveness by now. You knew his love for you was borderline obsessive, and you hated the fact that you still loved him too. You still chose to ignore all the red flags, overlooking every toxic trait he had.

You continued to put up with it and you excused his behaviour because... well it wasn’t like he controlled you completely.

He never forced you to tell him things you didn’t want, never controlled the things you did, never gave you shit for the things you wore, never made you feel like you needed to rely on him for everything.

He still gave you your freedom.

He just didn’t hold himself back from how other people acted around you.

It was at his birthday party, you recall.

And it was the first time you were meeting the majority of Hongjoong’s friends. You wanted to make an effort to mingle with them to show your boyfriend you cared about the people in his life.

Sure you knew of his closest ones, the other seven boys he allowed you to be near. They were the only ones that Hongjoong felt comfortable with you being around.

But this time you were surrounded by new faces, and it wasn’t like Hongjoong warned you of any of them so you took it upon yourself to befriend a few of them. You figured if he let him into the comfort of your own home, they had to have been good people.

You saw no harm in it, and at first he didn’t see the harm either.

Until he noticed the lingering stare in Sehun’s eyes, and the way his fingertips would ghost over the skin of your shoulder, and how his knee would brush against yours every so often.

Anger started to bubble up in his chest at the sight of you laughing at something Sehun said, and the jealousy ran rampant in his veins.

He tried to control his feelings at first, brushing it off as Sehun’s overly flirtatious nature.

But it was when he saw his friend place his hand over your bare thigh that Hongjoong finally lost it.

Before you could even take Sehun’s hand off of you and tell him to back off, Hongjoong’s grabbing onto him in an instant, throwing him away from you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hongjoong seethes as Sehun’s eyes widen.

The guests eyes avert to the scene in front of them and you look over at Seonghwa and San pleading for help.

“Woah, calm down, Joong.” Sehun says with a light chuckle. “I was just telling your girlfriend about-”

“Yeah, exactly, MY girlfriend.” Hongjoong interrupted. “So why is that you feel the need to touch her like she’s fucking single? You don’t think I’ve been watching you eye fuck her this whole night? Don’t you know how to back off?” he pushes at his friend’s chest.

“Dude, relax, it’s not that serious.” Sehun rolls his eyes. “You know me man, I would never do anything to disrespect you, or your girl.”

“That’s not what it fucking looked like you prick-”

“Okaaay, Joong, how ‘bout we go somewhere else, hm?” Seonghwa calls, placing his arm around your boyfriend’s shoulder as he and San guide him into one of your guest rooms.

You follow suit with Wooyoung and Yunho behind you as you leave the confused party guests to themselves.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asks and you nod your head.

But inside, you’re heart seizes with fear, because you know exactly where this conversation is gonna go.

When you enter the room, it feels tense right away, and Hongjoong eyes you with a cold stare. “Do you have anything to say for yourself right now?” he calls over San’s shoulder.

You shake your head. “W-what did I do?” you ask genuinely.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Hongjoong scoffs.

“Joong, stop.” Seonghwa sighs, placing a hand on his chest.

“You know what your problem is, you fucking act like such an innocent little bitch when in reality you’re the biggest slut i know.” he spits at you suddenly, and it has everyone’s eyes widening at his bold statement.

“Pipe down, hyung. Don’t call her that.” Yunho shakes his head disapprovingly.

“What was I doing wrong?! Talking to him?!” you scoff.

“For letting him touch you like that! He was fucking flirting with you and you didn’t do shit about it-”

“Oh my god, you didn’t even give me the chance!” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “If you just waited one more fucking second I would’ve told him to take his hands off me and-”

“Bullshit.” he laughs. “You wanna go whore around? Fine. But don’t fucking lie to my face and pretend that you didn’t do shit.” he pushes past Seonghwa to get in your face. “Go back out there with him if that’s what you want.” as he shoves you back.

“Woah hey, Joong, don’t do that.” Seonghwa intervenes when he sees his best friend push you a bit too hard.

“How are you gonna blame me and say it’s my fault? All we were doing was talking!-“ you try to defend, tears threatening to spill.

“Talking my fucking ass,” your boyfriend scoffs at you. “You’re just a fucking attention whore. What, I’m suddenly not enough for you? So you go around prancing like the little slut you are because you need validation from other guys?!”

You feel embarrassed at your current situation, feeling the heavy stares of Hongjoong’s best friends on you. Fighting with him in private was one thing. It was shitty and made you feel terrible, but you could handle it.

But being in the same room, hearing your boyfriend call you names while his friends watch from the side has you recoiling in pure humiliation.

“Hongjoong that’s enough! Fuck, what is wrong with you man?” Seonghwa pushes his friend back.

“Why don’t you ask her? Why are you guys acting like i’m the fucking villain?!” Hongjoong sneers. “You think she’s the fucking victim here? Look at her. Acting all innocent and crying like a fucking bitch. What are you so upset about?” he glares at you and you stand still in your spot, not knowing what to say.

“Joong, I’m sorry but I don’t think what I was doing was wrong!” you say. “You wanted me to get to know your friends and that’s exactly what I was doing! You can’t get mad at me for doing what you wanted!”

“You let him fucking feel you up, you let him touch you when you know I don’t like that shit. You’re making all these excuses to justify the fact that you can’t be satisfied with one man giving you all his attention?! How are you gonna say you didn’t do anything wrong when you let that happen?! When you know it would upset me, on my fucking birthday no less? Fuck you y/n! Your mouth is fucking shit, all you know how to do is lie!”

“You know what, fuck you too Joong. I put up with so much of your shit, I forgive you every time you get pissed over another guy being around me. I clean up your fucking mess time and time again and this is how you treat me?! Are you just going to get mad every time a man does so much as breathe next to me?! You’re going to blame me for shit I didn’t even do-“ he interrupts you, refusing to hear your side.

“Yeah I fucking blame you!”

“God can you fucking relax and think about what you’re saying right now?! You’re literally causing a scene at your own fucking birthday party-”

“Yeah and what?!” he screams at you. “You don’t think everyone at this fucking party should know how much of a fucking slut you are?!”

You gape at him and so does Seonghwa and San whose holding their best friend back.

“Woah, hyung that’s not fucking cool.” San says. “I know you’re pissed off and drunk as fuck right now but do not treat your girlfriend that way.”

Hongjoong chuckles, “Why? She thinks she can do whatever the fuck she wants anyways. Why the fuck can’t I call her out on her shit?”

“Because she didn’t do anything!” Wooyoung shouts, coming next to you protectively. “You need to fucking relax. Yunho, help me get everyone out of their house. They need to deal with this shit with less people here.”

Yunho nods his head, leaving the room with Wooyoung to usher all the party guests out.

“Joong, don’t be unreasonable right now. Be mad at Sehun all you want, but don’t accuse y/n of being at fault when she didn’t do anything. She’s your fucking girlfriend for god sakes, don’t treat her this way-” Seonghwa begins to defend you but Hongjoong stops him.

“You know what, take your fucking shit, get the fuck out of my house, and don’t fucking come back!” he grabs your purse and throws it in your direction and it nearly hits you in the face.

“Hyung!” San shouts as he holds his elder back.

“Are you actually kicking me out right now?” you ask in shock.

“You’re damn right I am.” he states. “Go fucking slut it up on the streets for all I give a shit! Since you want male attention so bad, see how long you last out there!” Hongjoong taunts you.

“D-don’t fucking do this, Joong.” you plead. “I know you’re pissed at me but don’t make me leave, I have nowhere else to go.”

“Ask me if I give a shit.” he rolls his eyes. “You want to act like an ungrateful bitch then get the fuck out of my place. I literally fucking give you everything, I love you like no else fucking will. You don’t fucking appreciate me then Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

You don’t move for a second, but Hongjoong pushes past his friends, gripping onto your arm as he drags you out of the room.

The guests are long gone by now, and you don’t admit that you’re thankful that no one else has to witness this right now.

“Joong, let go of her!” Seonghwa calls after him, as him and San follow you both out the door.

Yunho and Wooyoung are in the kitchen when they see their friend dragging you outside and they’re quick to try and resolve the situation, but there’s nothing they can do at this point that’ll calm Hongjoong down.

“You don’t want to fucking leave? I’ll make you leave! Don’t ever try and come back here, I mean it!” he pushes you forcefully out the door and slams the door in your face and his friends stare with their mouths open in pure horror.

“Are you crazy?! What is wrong with you?!” Yunho gapes.

“She wants to act like a whore then let her. When everything I do is for her, it’s not enough! She wants to find comfort in other men then she can fucking do that.” Hongjoong simply shrugs. “Let her learn her lesson. See how long she can survive without me.”

The four boys don’t say anything, instead choosing to leave and find you to ensure your safety. They don’t recognize this man in front of them, and they never thought they’d witness him act this way.

They hate him right now, and they think you deserve to hate him too.

They find out downstairs in the lobby, crying on the bench hysterically. It’s 2 in the morning and they know how tired you must be, so Seonghwa kindly offers you to stay at their place for the time being.

“Y/n, don’t worry about Hongjoong right now.” Seonghwa sits next to you.

“I have nowhere to go-”

“You’re going to come stay with us.” he states. “We have a spare room, you can stay there for as long as you need. You don’t have to worry about him right now, he’s being a fucking dick. Drunk or not he shouldn’t be treating you this way.”

“He’s gonna get mad if I go with you-”

“Let him get mad then.” San interjects. “It’s better than you sleeping on the streets by yourself. You’re better off with us.”

You don’t hesitate after that and you agree, thanking them profusely for their generosity. They sit with you until the Uber comes, asking you every few minutes if you’re doing okay. You realize that not even your own boyfriend has shown this much compassion towards you in a long time.

“Does he always do this to you?” Wooyoung asks and you shake your head.

“No, no..” you say. “He just, he gets jealous easily. Doesn’t like when other guys are around me. He’s kind of possessive and he just, acts out I guess.”

“I didn’t know he was like that.” Seonghwa sighs. “He doesn’t ... hit you does he?”

“No! Never, no.” you’re quick to say. “He just needs to control his anger better...”

The Uber pulls up in front of your building before any more words can be exchanged, and the boys guide you over to the car.

When you get inside, you rest your head on the window and cry again. Silently this time, but the boys know. They can only imagine how you’re feeling at this very moment, and they feel terrible inside.

You look over to Yunho who’s sitting beside you and he stares back at you.

“Do you think he hates me?” you ask quietly.

“No, y/n. He could never hate you.” he sighs. “He loves you so much.” he tries to reassure.

“So why does he treat me like this?” you return, and Yunho’s heart breaks for you.

He doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t even know the answer to that himself.

He shakes his head with another heavy sigh, reaching over to comfort you. “I don’t know, y/n.” he admits truthfully. “All I know is that I’m sorry he did this to you.”

Everyone else in the car can hear your conversation, but out of respect for you they pretend to ignore it.

But in their heads, they’re all thinking the same thing as Yunho.

They’re sorry he did this to you too.

4:12 AM

A few hours pass and you’re calmer now.

Your head still hurts and your heart feels heavy but you’re less angry. So you figured that counted for something.

You’ve sat with yourself for the last two hours, weighing your options.

You could still leave.

But just like the first time you left by force, you still have nowhere else to go.

You could go back to Seonghwa’s place, but it took a long time for him and all the other boys to forgive Hongjoong, you didn’t want to burden them and drag them through this mess all over again.

You somehow managed to convince them you and Hongjoong were doing better, and you didn’t want to have to put them in another uncomfortable position where they would have to pick sides.

You figure here is better than nowhere, even with the endless cycle of this torment.

Half of you wants to leave, to forget about this whole nightmare and leave this life behind. To not look back and leave your boyfriend for good. To find someone else who could probably treat you better than this.

But the other half knows you depend on Hongjoong too much for your happiness. It’s the optimistic part in you that keeps reminding you that despite all these reoccurring fights, he still makes you happy, in some ways.

You’re conflicted to say the least, and you don’t know what you truly want to do.

Because if you leave you’ll come back, and if you stay, you’ll just subject yourself to this miserable life over and over again.

You don’t see any winning options.

Hongjoong’s soft knock interrupts your thoughts and he comes in shortly after. “Are you good now?” he asks softly and you nod.

You scoot across the bed to make room for him and he takes it as a sign to lay next to you. You two don’t say anything for a long while. Just staring into the plain white walls of your bedroom. You can hear each other breathing heavily, words lingering on the tips of your tongues, yet, none of you say anything.

The silence lasts for what feels like an eternity before he finally decides to speak first.

“So are you going to leave?” Hongjoong asks, turning to face you.

You shrug. “I want to.”

“So why don’t you?” he asks, but this time, there’s not a hint of malice in his tone. For once, it’s just curiosity.

You finally lock eyes with him and your face softens. “Because I fucking love you.” your eyes water, and Hongjoong pulls you into his arms. “I don’t know why I can’t leave you Joong. I fucking hate you and love you at the same time. You literally make me feel like shit. You do nothing good for me. You ruined my life.” you cry into his chest and he hugs you tighter.

“I know baby.” he murmurs, and it shouldn’t comfort you. But it does.

“I should leave.”

“You should.” he agrees.

“There’s only so much I can handle. I can’t stay with you if you aren’t willing to change, even a little bit. This is getting too much and I keep giving you all these chances when I should’ve walked away a long time ago.” you exclaim.

“I know.” is all he can say.

“I want to leave you, but at the same time I can’t stand the thought of not being with you.” you sigh.

You hate yourself right now because you sound so fucking stupid.

You could never explain why you continue to stay with him, because you don’t even know the answer to that yourself. All you know is that you’re a fucking idiot.

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I need you here with me, y/n.” he sighs. “I don’t ever want to know what it’s like to not have you anymore. I love you, you know I do. That’s why I do this, it’s just because I love you.”

You’ve heard it all before.

You shouldn’t believe him.

You shouldn’t even let him convince you of anything.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness for the millionth time.

“If you forgive me this time, it’s the last time I’ll put you through this ever again.”

“Don’t lie to me, Joong.” you shake your head.

“I’m not.”

“I want to believe you so bad.” you sigh.

“So believe me.” he turns to you. “Trust me now like you’ve trusted me all the other times before. I swear to you that I’ll put more of an effort this time.”

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes.

You think about the time you forgave him for kicking you out.

1 year, 8 months, 23 days ago.

One month later, Hongjoong’s begging for you back, asking for your forgiveness as you sit at Seonghwa’s dining table, void of any emotion.

You’ve lived 30 days without any communication with Hongjoong, and you hate to say that it was the worst thirty days of your life.

Even after tossing you out like you were nothing, you still missed him beyond belief, and your heart craved him every night he wasn’t right beside you.

You know at this point, you were just as fucked in the head as he was.

For continuing to love a man who proved time and time again that he wasn’t good for you, and he never would be.

“What makes you think you deserve to talk to her after you pulled that shit last month?” Seonghwa raises his eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as he eyes his best friend.

“I-I was drunk, Hwa.” Hongjoong excuses and his friend scoffs.

“You’re pathetic.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “You can’t just come back and expect her to be okay with what you did to her. And why now? You should’ve done it the night after you tossed her out but instead you choose to wait a whole fucking month?”

“I wanted to clear my head. I wanted to think about what I did wrong and make sure I made it up to her the right way.” Hongjoong defends himself. “Can you just let me in so I can see my fucking girlfriend? Since when were you so protective over her?”

“Since you treated her like fucking garbage!” Seonghwa retaliates. “I shouldn’t even let you do this, but you’re my best friend and you need to do what’s right. But if I ever catch you treating y/n that badly again, I will make sure you never see her again.”

Hongjoong nods his head, but inside he’s rolling his eyes at his elder. He hates that Seonghwa cares about you all of a sudden, but he won’t be unreasonable this time. He��ll admit his faults. Right now the only thing he cares about is getting you back.

Seonghwa finally lets him in and he takes you to the dining area where you’re seated reading a book. You don’t notice the presence of the two boys right away until Seonghwa clears his throat and you look up.

“Y/n, Hongjoong wanted to talk to you.” Seonghwa states, leaving the two of you alone.

You just stare at him at first, not knowing exactly what to say or do. You don’t know if he’s going to lash out at you, or forgive you for pissing him off the night of his birthday.

He approaches you gently, leaning down next to you as he places a small bouquet of roses on the table.

“I know this isn’t enough of an apology for what I did, but, I didn’t mean what I said that night.” he says gently.

You look at the roses in front of you and sigh. “You really hurt me you know that?”

“I know.” he bows his head down in shame.

“I get it, Joong. I can deal with your possessiveness, I can deal with your anger problems, but calling me names? Kicking me out? I let so much shit slide but when you go off and blame me for things that I didn’t even do...” you say quietly.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, baby.” Hongjoong sighs. “Everything I said that night was out of anger towards Sehun. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, but it just killed me to see him all over you like that. You know that I love you too much and sometimes that makes me act out.”

“You can’t keep doing this when someone makes you mad.” you say. “You should know by now I’m all yours. I told you that so long ago. You don’t have to worry about me leaving because I won’t. But you can’t do this ever again, Joong. Please.” you plead.

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t do this again. But please forgive me, because I can’t live without you. I miss you so much. And I still love you. No matter what I said, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I always will.”

Your heart softens hearing his words and your eyes begin to tear up. Hongjoong looks at you endearingly and you suddenly remember the face of the man you fell in love with so long ago.

You go against your better judgement and forgive him.

Like you always do.

“I love you too.” you say.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, placing his hand on your thigh comfortingly.

You sigh.

You take his bouquet of roses as a silent sign of forgiveness and you scoot over to let him sit next to you.

Hongjoong pulls you into his arms, hating the prideful feeling inside of him, knowing very well things were going exactly how he expected. He knew this was going to happen. He knew you were going to forgive him and take him back.

Because you always take him back.

4:30 AM

“Y/n, I love you, you know that right?” he says.

“I know.” you swallow your tears.

You do know he does.

But it never really feels like it.

“But.. if you claim to love me why can’t you change? Or at least try to? You keep hurting me and then you say it’s because you love me but, you don’t exactly show me that. I don’t understand how you can keep putting me in this position and say you do out of love.” you ask.

“I can’t explain what makes me act this way. But I go crazy when it comes to you, and it’s because of how strongly I feel for you. I don’t know why I treat you like shit. I don’t know why I do the things I do.” he admits.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t love me at all. You just look at me as something that belongs to you.” you say.

He hates that you’re partially right.

“That’s not true.” he lies.

He does love you. He loves you more than anything else in this world, that much is clear.

But you’re right about you belonging to him.

Deep down he thinks you’re stupid for thinking you don’t belong to him.

You are is his. You always will be his.

But he doesn’t try to prove you wrong. He keeps his mouth shut.

It’s silent again, and your heads are both swirling with a million different thoughts, and you want to say a million different things to each other.

But you feel like there’s nothing left to say.

Because everything that could be said, already has been.

The cycle will just continue. It’s never going to stop.

And there’s no one else to blame except for the poor decisions you both make.

You let yourselves get to this point.

“You need to let me leave, Joong. I can’t keep doing this.” your lips quiver and your voice breaks.

“No y/n-”

You stop him. “No, listen to me first.” you say.

“I told you. I’m tired of doing this again and again. You need to promise me right now you’re going to do something to change yourself because I meant it when I said I will leave if you keep driving me away. Because if you can’t promise me this one thing, and actually mean it, you have to let me walk away. If you claim to care about me, and if you really do love me, you’ll either do this for me or you’re going to let me be happy without you. So please, Joong. I’m begging you. Please. Please just do this for me or just let me fucking go.” you cry, and he pulls you into his chest as you sob.

He doesn’t know what to tell you.

Because if he promises he’ll change, he’d only be lying.

But if he doesn’t, he has to force himself to let you go.

And he could never do that.

“I’m not letting you go.” he states, and you know that’s his way of avoiding your promise.

“We aren’t good for each other. We shouldn’t be together.” you bury your face in his chest, and his hold on you tightens again.

Hongjoong’s throat starts to burn. “I know.” he whispers. “But we also can’t be without each other.”

He feels your tears soak through his shirt.

“You’ll change this time, won’t you?” you look at him with pleading eyes.

He doesn’t want to, but he nods anyways.

He just doesn’t offer any sort of reassurance.

You want him to say sorry, Hongjoong can feel it. He knows all you’ve ever wanted was to hear him apologize and mean it.

But he never does. Because he isn’t sorry.

He isn’t sorry for scaring away those guys who threatened to take him away from you. He isn’t sorry for calling you those names. He isn’t sorry for making you feel like you can’t get anyone better than him. He isn’t sorry for knowing how much you truly depend on him and need him.

He’s not sorry, and he never will be.

So instead he chooses to say ‘i promise.’ like he’s done again and again. He repeats those same words to you and he feels you relax in his arms.

He knows you’re not stupid enough to believe him, but you’re too optimistic for your own good. Always choosing to believe he can change. Always seeing the good that’s left in him and your broken relationship. And for the record, he does try, but his love for you is just so obsessive and consuming it drives him mad. He just can’t bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. He can’t control the way he acts and he knows its unhealthy.

But he lies to you because he knows it’ll keep you with him.

“I promise I’ll change.” he whispers in your ear.

And you want to believe him so badly. But you know it’s just an empty promise. Because you know the next chance he gets, he will put you through all this again. And Hongjoong won’t admit it but he knows you’re always going to forgive him. No matter how many times you threaten to leave and actually try to, you’re going to end up back in his arms every night, loving him like you’ve never loved anyone else before.

So for right now, you just pretend. You pretend he means what he says and you pretend that things are going to get better.

You want to believe that he’ll change.

But deep down inside, you know he never will.

LA FIN.

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wri0thesley · 4 years

Text

Forever- Vampire!Lisa Lisa x Fem!Reader (Kinktober Day #16: Biting)

NSFW. 18+ ONLY. AFAB reader. Fem pronouns. Vampire Lisa Lisa, biting, blood, possible dub-con/hypnosis (your mileage may vary depending on how you read it - i think of this all as entirely consensual).

You are in search of the Lady of the Island.

The man steering the boat had not wanted to take you out to Air Supplena Island. He had been most insistent of the fact that the moment your feet touched solid ground on the island, he would be turning back - his mouth had set in a grim line, his eyes shadowed.

“I ain’t gonna be responsible for her findin’ me trespassing on her land,” he’d said. “N’ if you ask me, you’re a damn fool to be goin’ no matter what.”

You had still tipped him, of course. He had been the only man with a boat who’d been willing to even make the trip, as little time as he would spend on Air Supplena Island’s shore notwithstanding. You had sat in his boat with your hands folded in your lap and your posture ramrod-straight, anxiety gnawing through to your bones; but you would not rest. You would not turn back. You had followed the legends and the whispers of who the lady of the island was for too long and tried too hard to waste all of your hard work because your fear held you back at the last moment.

You step off his boat and onto the island proper with your purse significantly lighter and evening filtering out the last vestiges of the day’s sunlight. You turn to thank the man who brought you here, feeling unsteady and afraid - to see that he has turned around with a second glance at you.

He thinks you are mad, and perhaps you are.

You are slow as you approach the buildings themselves, aware that night is falling all around you. All of this, from one brief encounter in a warm speakeasy and a beautiful woman at your side?

She had kissed you, once, and you had tasted danger on her lips and felt it when her hands had caressed the shape of you in your ugly dress. The entirety of the world had seemed to stop - everything had become unimportant to you, except her lips and the way her eyes seemed to shift ruby tones in the low candlelight. You had been dragged here by the young lady you had been hired to be the ladies companion of; whilst her parents had clearly thought you’d be a good influence on her, they had also not reckoned on the wild streak in her nature.

So you had been dragged along to all kinds of seedy underground places she should not have known about. You had always stayed in the background, watched, tried to make sure she did not get into too much trouble, waiting to intervene just in case she overstepped that small boundary. But it had been in a smoky underground cavern in Paris (“The fashion capital of the world!” Your charge and companion had told you. “You simply must wear something more fetching than that old thing.” You had not acquiesced.) that had changed you forever.

“Come find me,” she’d breathed against your neck, and you had felt something sharp scratch briefly across the join where your neck and shoulder met. “You could be so much more than this. I’ll show you.”

And she had gone, and you had not been able to shake her lips from your mind for months.

Your companion had noticed but thought it prudent not to say anything; even in the free-spirited nineteen thirties, she was not quite ready to accept that she had seen your eyes glaze and your mouth part for another woman. But she had noticed your distraction; that you were less hard on her for going against her parent’s wishes, that you were wistful and maudlin and daydreaming about the night - eventually, she had taken pity on you and come to you to relieve you of your service with an early pay packet of far more than you’d expected.

“I went back,” she said, off-handedly, though her shoulders were tense. “To that seedy little place in Paris. They told me her name was Lisa Lisa - the lady of yours. They called her the Lady of the Island, though I don’t know which one. She’s Italian, apparently - or she makes her home there, now. Don’t ask me anything else. I don’t know it.”

You’d looked at her, slowly, some of your lethargy fading away as you’d felt a hum beneath your skin of promise.

“Thank you,” you’d said - and you’d left the next day for Italy.

It had not been easy. Though your purse was heavy with your payment for a year spent travelling Europe, you were aware that you were plain and simple and prime victim material for shoplifters and men of opportunity. You had stayed in lodgings that were out of the way, perhaps shoddier than what you could and should have afforded, giving them all the same story; you were in search of an older brother who had ran away and had last been seen in the company of a lady that he called the ‘Lady of the Island’.

You did not get your first bite until you had found yourself in Venice, in a small art shop by a canal. The piece itself was of an island, all gothic cathedral imagery and towering columns; you’d been looking at it, and the proprietor and artist had come to stand beside you.

“That’s Air Supplena Island,” he had said to you, obviously able to tell that you were not a local. “They say that the Lady of the Island lives there and slaughters anyone who comes close.” He had shrugged broad shoulders. “I don’t believe it myself, but people will cling to their stories, won’t they?”

You’d beseeched him to tell you more, trotting out that tired old story - that you had become tired of telling, as weeks had grown into months - and his nose had wrinkled, brows drawn down.

“Oh, the Lady of the Island isn’t interested in men,” he’d said, and the stress he’d put on the last word had convinced you that you were on the right track. You had done your best to tamp down enthusiasm as you’d asked and probed about Air Supplena Island - and as you left, you hid your smile behind your hand as you’d bid the man a good night.

You had wanted to employ somebody to take you to the Island as soon as you could, but you had done your best to be sensible. You asked around a little more, probing for information about this Lady - having your suspicions of her legend confirmed.

“They say that she bathes in the blood of virgins,” one older woman had told you. “They say that she will drink a man dry if he so much as breathes in her presence,” - another. “They say that the buildings on her land are made of bones and teeth.”

They confirm what you had thought; that the woman you met in the smoky jazz and the press of bodies is something more than human. The idea should fill you with fear. You should have gotten as far away from Italy as you could; instead, the thought of her inhumanity sets heat aflame between your thighs and makes your heart hammer in your chest.

If she kills you, you think, you will die happy. At least you won’t dream about her any more - the silky sweep of her hair, the curve of her lips, pinpricks sliding into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your shoes sound very loud on the stone, as shadows begin to claim the island entirely. You continue to walk.

You imagine you hear whispers, rustling, the sound of shadows converging and waiting to be told to jump upon you and consume you entirely - still, you walk. And when the foreboding wooden doors that you think give entrance to the vast majority of the building that dominates Air Supplena Island open as if by unseen forces, you do not question yourself - you walk forward, into the entrance hall.

“I thought you’d come.”

The voice is amused. It is low, and deep - shivering with suggestion in every syllable. You recognise it as the same voice that has haunted your dreams since the first time you heard it. You stop where you are, transfixed as she seems to melt from the shadows, just as beautiful and statuesque as you remember. Her skin seems to shimmer like mother of pearl in the moonlight; her lips are redder than blood, her eyes dark and beautiful. She looks at you and smiles, and you see the faintest flash of sharp eye teeth - and immediately, a rush of confusing feelings tumblr all around inside you.

She’s beautiful. She’s terrifying. You know the rumours are true, from her easy stance and her elegance and how she looks at you like a cat stalking a canary - but you cannot find it in yourself to be afraid. Instead, you feel your thighs slick with desire and your body ache to be touched. If she wished to bathe in your blood . . . you think you would open your veins for her. All she need do is ask.

She steps towards you like a leopard hunting her prey, though you have no intention of running anywhere. Her hips move seductively with each step, her eyes not moving from you for a moment - you take in a deep, shuddering breath as she gets closer and closer to you, waiting for her to pounce. You imagine you’ll see your own neck snap as if from very far away - you wonder if the man who brought you here on his boat is even now laughing at your terrible fate.

“Oh,” she breathes, as she gets closer. “Look at you. You found me all on your own, hmm? I knew that you’d be a perfect choice.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You ask her, softly. She stops in front of you, raising a hand to your face - her thumb ghosts your cheekbone, traces the lines of your lips, and all you can do is let her. Everywhere she touches you feel trails of fire spring up in her wake, your body singing in a way that you don’t think it ever has.

“If I were going to do that, dear heart,” she whispers, “you would have been dead before you step foot on my island.”

You swallow as she tips your face upwards, studying you in the pale moonlight. You wonder if you’re pleasing to her - the thought makes you feel curiously hot and bothered. You have never put much stock in your appearance, but if it has helped to win her attentions . . . surely you cannot be that unfortunate to look upon?

She laughs as if she can read your mind.

“You’re extremely pleasing,” she says - and then, she kisses you.

Lisa Lisa - she gives you her name like a secret, and you whisper it against the cool marble of her collarbone, marvelling at how it rolls around in your mouth - has you in her chambers in what feels like moments, though you know it must be longer. Her fingers dance over your skin, working open the buttons and hooks of your plain dress - when it falls from your body, you want to pull yourself in and shy away, but she is above you on the bed and she sighs against you, her breath cool.

“Look at you, little flower,” she murmurs. “You’re beautiful. Ripe for the plucking.”

Her nails scratch sharp across your sides as she caresses the curve and dip of your hips and waist. Her hands take hold of your breasts, testing their warmth and weight, squeezing them so that your back arches and a soft noise of surprise escapes you. She bends her head and the sheet of her hair falls across your skin, a silky sweep that has goosebumps rising along your newly bared flesh.

Her mouth fastens about one nipple, her tongue teasing the nubs to hardness. You have only ever touched yourself under sacrosanct cover of darkness, chaste and afraid - but Lisa Lisa is not at all shamed by how she enjoys your body. She holds you as if it’s perfectly natural to do so, and though you feel exposed, you also feel . . . beautiful. Like something precious to be held against her and kissed and stroked.

“You’ll do beautifully,” she whispers, moving her mouth from your breast to kiss up your collarbones, to trace the fluttering pulse point in your neck. She traces your jawline with her lips, up to your ear - you gasp as she nips at your earlobe. “Oh, you were wasted anywhere but by my side.”

“What will you do to me?” You ask her, breathlessly, as she rears up onto her knees and reaches to tug off her own clothes. You are transfixed by her figure, slowly revealed to you beneath the fine fabrics she’s wearing. She’s like a Greek statue - marble, untouchable, unmarked. Only . . . she takes your hands, brings them to her hips, lets you feel how smooth and cool and soft she is.

“Nothing you won’t like,” she says - and as she dives back down to kiss you again with the hunger of someone who’s been starved for a week, you do not doubt her.

As she kisses you, nipping with her blunt front teeth at your lower lip, her hands urge your thighs apart. You feel ashamed to spread them - especially as you hear the wet sounds of them parting - but she breaks the kiss to inhale deeply.

“I forget, that mortals are so warm,” she says, as one of her hands slides up your inner thigh, nails teasing at the sensitive skin. “You’re boiling to the touch, my darling. You’re hot and warm and soaking wet - did you know?” The last words are conversational, her middle finger swiping through your damp slit, briefly parting your labia lips as your hips arch and a whimper falls unbidden from your lips.

“I haven’t done this before . . .” You say, your cheeks uncomfortably warm - and Lisa Lisa laughs, a rich, deep noise that feels like black silk running down your spine.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she tells you. “I’ve done this many times - and you’ll have plenty of time to learn it too. For now . . . relax, dearest. Lay back on the bed. Let me take care of you.”

There’s a sharp edge to the words; even as you let yourself relax into the soft coverlets beneath you, you feel like she is asking for permission for more than she lets on. Still - you cannot think, at this moment, what you would deny her. Not as she spreads your thighs even wider, those same nails scratching at your skin so your spine prickles, her fingertips leaving blazing trails despite how cool they feel against you.

She makes sweet, soft noises - like placating a baby animal - as your thighs jump as she parts the lips of your sex, exposing those slickened folds to the chill of the air.

“Look at you,” she says, enthralled. “Oh, I have picked beautifully--”

You do not know what she means, when she speaks of choosing you. But her fingers are stroking your folds, now - teasing at your clit and your entrance, making your entire body sing, and you cannot concentrate on anything but how that feels and the way that the fabric beneath your fingers bunches up as you fist hands into sheets.

You are sensitive. Your body reacts with shivers and shudders; little electrical currents going straight from the place between your legs to every other part of you, sending signals of white-hot pleasure to your brain. As she slides one elegant finger inside you and your sex clamps tightly about her, she laughs a noise of soft amusement.

“We’ll train you to take more, my dear,” she says, and she pumps the lone finger in and out of you, rubbing against sensitive patches inside of you that have your hips wriggling. You’re aware that you are making little noises - whimpering and moaning, gasping out noises intended to be words. Her lips are a dark red curve in the white of her face. Her thumb swipes across your clit, rolling the bud beneath the pad, toying with the swollen little bundle until you whine.

“You’ll take another,” she says, softly, and you nod - a sob bubbles in your throat at the brief stretch of two, scissoring you open and wider for her - but it quickly devolves into a groan as your hips cant forwards towards her, urging her to be more thorough in how she’s thrusting the fingers and and out of you. She makes a little chastising noise, clicking her tongue - but you can hear the pleasure in her tone as she murmurs. “Now, now. One thing at a time.”

It’s good. It’s so good. The way her thumb grinds against your clit, the way that her fingers rub against those sweet spots inside of you, the feeling of fullness and the sweep of her hair and the knowledge of who it is and what she is that’s making you feel like this . . . Your body seems to seize up, teetering on the edge of something - and, abruptly, fingers are pulled out of you and the pressure on your clit ceases. You whimper out a noise of confusion and distress; that you were so close to something wonderful, and had it torn away--

“One more thing, before I let you come,” Lisa Lisa says, her lips that perfect red curve again. “Creatures like me do not do things for free, you see.”

“I’ll do it,” you say, feverishly - her index finger lazily strokes your folds, toying with your clit in a way that makes you shudder and your head feel cloudy and strange. “Wh-whatever it is . . .”

Lisa Lisa leans down, kissing the mound of your sex. Your back arches as her tongue flicks out, briefly darting to taste you. She makes a noise of sheer pleasure at the wetness on her tongue that intensifies the ache inside of you and makes you feel as if a curtain is descending all over your judgement. Slowly, she laps at you again - her tongue rolling your clit luxuriously, slow rocks of pleasure overwhelming you.

“You’d agree before hearing my terms?” She says, though she does not sound at all surprised - if anything, her tone is pleased. “You’d trust me so completely, even knowing what I am?”

She does not tell you what she is. She hasn’t - you have known since far before you stepped foot onto her island, and perhaps even before you’d made it to Italy. She knows that you know.

“You can have my blood,” you tell her, wildly, without thinking. “Just, please--”

She pulls back again. Her body moves over you like a cat once more, so that her face is close to yours and her cool breath brushes your cheek. Her breasts press against your own, one marble-smooth thigh between your own legs.

“I want more than blood from you,” she says. “I want you to stay with me, here. Forever.” Her hands trace your hips, cold as she grasps you. “You deserve more than a boring little life and a boring little husband. I can make you a Goddess, my darling. I can make you feared and loved and reviled; I can make you like me. I can give you a life by my side.” She lowers her mouth, pressing her lips to your cheek. Your entire body feels like stone.

“You already knew what I wanted from you, didn’t you, my clever girl?” Hands sliding over your thighs, her body moving. Your legs spread wider, urging her hand and her fingers back between them. She laughs, like a bell tolling. “You’ve known since you walked into my home.”

“Yes,” you say. “Yes. To all of it.”

(You have known, this whole time - since those first words and the promise you were made for better things than this. It had taken her touching you and feeling you and driving you to the brink of release to see it clearly, but now you can - you can see you by her side for eternity.)

“My good girl,” she breathes - and, as her fingers dive inside you again, three pressing against the walls of your sex and clenching around her, her thumb grinds back into your clit. Her fangs slide into your throat.

Both of them feel like fireworks in entirely different ways - low between your thighs, like a man diving into the sea, your body all flaming hot wetness as a tidal wave of heat and need crash over you. In your throat, an explosion of colours and sounds as your head is tipped back and you feel the wetness and heat of your own blood cascade down your body. The rhythmic sucking of Lisa Lisa’s lips against you coupled with the rhythmic way she rocks her fingers into you.

You let your eyes close, the sensations wash over you. It’s the first of many, she said. The first day of the rest of your life.

The two of you have an eternity now, after all.

#writing #kinktober collection #lisa lisa #not sfw #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjba #blood for ts #vampires #biting #dub con for ts #hypnosis for ts

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frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

Damage

Part 2

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N has magical abilities and teams up with the squad to take down a villain.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: murder scene, mention of parent death, evil parent

If he's being totally honest, Jake felt very much like the creeps he arrested on the streets of Brooklyn. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the girl across the street who was lost in her phone call. He tried to justify his staring by thinking to himself that he was just worried about a civilian being out late at night alone, but truthfully he was simply captivated by her.

"Dude, are you ready to eat or what?" Rosa followed Jake's gaze and smirked. "I guess that answers my question."

Jake blushed and faced her. "Gross, Rosa, no! I'm just wondering how she's gonna get home safely."

"Certainly not in your car," Amy interjected with a snort.

"What are we talking about? Jakey got a crush?" Charles asked, joining the group followed by Terry and Holt.

"I don't have a crush! As I was just telling nosy Rosie over here, I—"

"Hey, watch out!"

Jake's head immediately turned at Amy's words, expecting to be met with the scene of his mystery girl getting hit by a passing car and instead found something even more jaw-dropping. The girl stood frozen in front of a semi truck that was stopped in the middle of the road, the air between them a neon, glittering pink. She turned to the side of the street where the detective squad stood—suddenly realizing she had an audience—and bolted without question in the direction she came from.

"Wait!" Jake cried out as he began to follow her, instantly cut off by the semi truck that continued to roll down the street abruptly as if commanded. By the time it passed, the girl was gone.

Rosa was the next to break out of her shocked state, laying a cautious hand on Jake's shoulder. "It's probably for the best. Supernatural or not, no girl wants to be chased down the street by a guy she's never met."

A few days later, the nine-nine squad found themselves at the scene of a quadruple homicide. Three customers and a cashier found dead in a bodega, no witnesses and the security camera system conveniently destroyed. The detectives surveyed the store, all mentally scratching their heads and wondering how the hell they were going to solve this one. Even Holt seemed stumped.

"Guys."

Jake turned to look at Charles, following his fearful gaze and nearly jumping out of his skin. On the far side of the store stood his mystery girl. He noticed everyone else move their hands toward their guns, but curiosity got the better of him. He stood slowly, noticing her tear-filled eyes as she looked around the scene.

Holt found his voice first and spoke in his authoritative tone. "Ma'am, this crime scene is part of an active investigation. You cannot—"

"I think I know who did it," she blurted, surprising everyone. Her gaze flickered over to Jake for a second and back to Holt, and he fought the urge to smile. "No puncture or shot wounds, right? Dead all at the same time, just like that?"

"How did you know that?" Amy questioned immediately.

The girl nodded as if answering the question herself. "I know who did it, but I can't tell you here. It's not safe." She glanced outside before quickly conjuring up a glittering pink ball and sending it over to the pocket that held Jake's phone. "When you turn your GPS on, you should be able to find me pretty easily. I'll see you tonight."

The color appeared again as she turned in a circle, pulling a curtain of it over herself. It disappeared with her just as the Medical Examiner stepped into the bodega.

Despite all signs pointing toward this being a bad idea, the squad decided to follow Jake's GPS to her apartment. The building was located on the wealthier part of town, but luckily didn't have a doorman. The mention of the lack of one reminded the detectives that they didn't know the name of the person they were expected to blindly trust, a discussion they had in the elevator on the way to her apartment, of course.

A knock on her door was followed by a muffled "come in", and they opened the door to one of the biggest living rooms they'd ever seen in an apartment. The mystery girl—MG, as Jake so affectionately referred to her—was standing near the ceiling-to-floor window finishing up an impressively majestic horse on a giant upright canvas. Jake thought that by some trick of light the horse was moving but realized when he came to a stop in front of it that it simply was moving.

His eyes moved downward to the artist herself and watched as she closed her paints and put away the rest of the art tools, this time allowing the smile to appear. It seemed silly but he almost felt lucky to be standing in the same room as her again, especially considering that he never thought he'd see her again.

She faced them finally with a small almost shy smile. "I'll be right back after I wash this mess off my hands. You can sit down if you want." She disappeared down the hall, magically closing the curtains as she went, and Jake turned to the group with a shrug.

"Might as well. If she wanted to kill us, she would've done it already."

Apparently this made sense to them because they were all sitting quietly on the couch in armchairs when she returned. They shook their heads at her offer on food and drinks and waited until she pulled up a wooden chair to sit in front of them to speak.

"So are you gonna tell us who you are now or what?" Rosa asked with a glare so intimidating that it made the poor girl cower slightly in her seat.

"Yeah, I am. I'm Y/N Patali, Pavlo Patali's daughter." She could practically hear the alarms going off in their heads just by looking at them and sighed. "If I tell you my sad origin story, will it convince you that I'd like to help you and that I'm not on his side?"

"Not completely, but it may help," Holt replied, giving Y/N no physical indicator that he meant it.

"Okay, well my father's originally from Nuxvar, a tiny village between the cities of Pompeii and Naples that housed all the world's magical people. When he turned 21 and gained the full strength of his powers, he performed dark magic on Mount Vesuvius and made it erupt over the village. He managed to kill every man, woman and child in the village and keep the damage hidden from the neighboring cities, because you could only get into the village if you had powers anyway."

"He wanted to be the only one left with powers," Amy acknowledged and Y/N confirmed.

"He came to New York right after. He met my mother and ended up marrying her, which I can't imagine him doing for citizenship so I'd like to believe he really loved her."

The squad listened as she went on to tell them about her mother discovering that her father was getting away with murder by using his powers and that the explosion that killed his home village wasn't an accident. She explained being 12 and her powers finally arriving, her mother instructing her to magically copy a book from his library that described how to strip a Nuxvarian of their powers as punishment for using them for evil, hoping to bring an end to his reign.

"I'd hidden the copy of course, but he found her reading through the original one day while I was at school because she wanted to learn as much as possible so she could help me learn too." Y/N took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a second to prevent tears from spilling. "I don't know what he did but I was told she suffered from a brain aneurysm and died 'just like that'."

She got up suddenly, walking over to the bookcase and taking the opportunity to wipe away a few stray tears away from everyone's eyes. She returned with a book that she placed on the coffee table between them as she sat down.

"My father told CPS that he was mentally unfit to care for me because I looked so much like my mother that it was driving him insane. This book was the only thing I managed to hold onto throughout my entire time in foster care and I've been studying it ever since. I think I can do it now, and then you can finally arrest him."

She spoke again before they could respond. "I can also help you track down all the people working in his drug cartel."

Jake was the next to speak. "I think we should do it."

"Peralta—"

"Sir, hear me out. Patali has one of the biggest drug rings we've ever had the misfortune of coming across and every time we've come close to shutting him down, we're suddenly right back where we started and now that we've heard her story, it all makes sense!"

"Sir, I never thought I'd say this but Peralta has a point," Amy timidly addressed Holt, choosing to ignore Jake's smirk.

"I agree," Rosa added in her usual monotone manner. "If we keep going at it like we have been, Commissioner Kelly is just going to get more and more pissed at us for wasting departmental resources. We should at least give Y/N a shot."

"Does everyone feel this way?" Holt gave a glance around the room, taking notice of everyone's heads nodding before meeting eyes with Y/N. "I suppose we could try things your way."

Her eyes danced around the room, gaze landing on Jake for a little longer than she meant to before making eye contact with Holt again.

"I promise not to let you down."

#queue #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta imagine #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic

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johnsmaton · 3 years

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Increase your Surfing With Thought

"Energy and thought work increases goal attainment even more than physical work alone. Physical is easily the most visible, however it is merely the final stage." surf print

Alright, so you have have a move your really being affected by so that you consider the "how to" page inside a surfing magazine and yep there it really is...stoked! They break the process down for you into steps; "crouch, touch water, extend out in to the lip, grab, spot the landing" and boom you have done it. That's great, your amped to acheive it, you paddle out and attempt a couple of but no luck. You imagine some negative stuff regarding it and a belief gradually builds up in your thoughts. "I can't do airs or cutbacks or turns etc" You'll keep trying and seeking the move but you have that limiting belief there and each time you fail it gets stronger. "I can't do them". It may seem I merely need to work with my technique more, practice harder, or break it back but if you actually want to see some change you firstly need to overcome that negative belief that is stopping you moving forward from improving.

As Surfing is really an engaged, from the moment activity its pretty challenging to consider relocating as different stages of technique, it occurs so quickly anyway and being preoccupied with technique often stiffens you up and will really go ahead and take fun away from a surf.

I'm not saying 'how to' advice is really a total waste of time, or you do not need to think of technique in any respect, rather I am going to suggest a process or two which will work on those limiting beliefs and complement the tactic work.

The important thing to improving your surfing is getting a balance between physical practice and work (visualization and belief work). Should you just sit down and meditate or visualize yourself busting new moves without you go around and surfing I would not think you will note much progress. Likewise, if you just practice the move every wave until your blue in the face without addressing what negativity is running using your thoughts. That kind of obsession will not produce instant results either. This is the holistic approach; you start the energy work and attain a state to surf with belief, passion, and confidence. You visualize yourself completing the move and make up an excellent feeling regarding it. After this you act, the power work gives you an opportunity but to complete the training you should practice, this is how the transformation takes place, in water. I really believe until this will speed up your learning curve and it'll definitely enable you to have more pleasurable within the ocean!

"When I used to be a kid...I still do it all the time...taking a look at a wave and mind surfing it you already know, I've always visualized the way i want to ride waves. I've always thought since I was young that we want to be in a position to surf waves generate income see waves ridden over the internet."

Kelly Slater - 9 x World Champion

I've separation these ideas into two different areas; overcoming bad surfs, and learning new moves. surf illustration

Overcoming "Bad" Surfs- turning them around

Why do you surf? Whether for entertainment, in order to connect with nature, or relax, I'm certain you have pretty similar reasons revolving around a great feeling, positive energy. However is this forever the situation? I believe some individuals can say yes to the question but I have come across lots of frustration outside in water and I understand that many of us don't always obtain the intended good feelings from your sessions. What exactly causes these bad surfs, what stands in the way of our fun? It may be because we don't live up to our very own performance expectations, maybe it's too crowded, or it will be because other people surfing superior to us and that we want to do what they're doing! We can easily just accept these bad surfs, or we could understand that our experience of the lake, bad or good, is more about what is going on through our heads on the market, as an alternative to what exactly is actually happening within the lineup or for the waves.

I think it's pretty ridiculous once i look back at some of the bad surfs I've had. I have already been in tropical places with perfect waves, domestic hot water, only friends around and somehow found myself not having fun, oblivious for the beauty around me. It wasn't because of that situation in any respect; it turned out all in my head. Which is a good thing though, when it was the specific situation that caused bad surfs there'd be nothing we will do with that, we would be powerless. These days we understand it's in your heads, and that we can change what bounces around for the reason that thick skull of ours! The power is at us, we could change dozens of bad surfs to great ones!

Now, no doubt you've turned a negative surf to a doozy before, albeit unconsciously. You're around creating a horrible time, sitting there catching no waves, perhaps you just fell off on a good wave and then you sat there with a negative chain of thought running rampant "I just blew my chance then...I can't get another wave now...I usually fall off after i try that move..."

Having those kinds of thoughts occurring, obviously you aren't going to be having an excessive amount of fun! You most likely feel tense and restricted and that will not result in you surfing your very best or paddling energetically for waves. Then again miraculously a wave appears before you no one is around. You manage to surf rid of it as well as the buzz of that one good wave changes your attitude completely. Your ideas be positive. Abruptly you're paddling around confidently, catching loads of waves, surfing to your full potential, having a great time.

However, for every single bad surf which you have turned around, you might have perhaps a few where that magic wave hasn't come and you have paddled in feeling a bit down using the whole thing, you didn't get the positive experience you paddled out for initially. That's where you need to assume responsibilty for your own personel thoughts and turn the negative right into a positive, realize the problem isn't problem.

How do we do this? To begin with, you should steer clear of the thoughts which might be currently creating your bad experience. In many instances you will find these brain is determined by weaknesses and fears e.g. I cannot surf in my backhand or That's not me gonna catch any waves using this crowd. The truth is weaknesses will be in the past and all fears have to do with an imagined future, so get back to the current moment in addition to their grip on you weakens. A great way to do this is always to look around, really look at the waves, how amazing these are, they've traveled a large number of kilometers to get here, look at the scenery, the trees, the headland, really feel the sun and rain, the lake on the skin, and become grateful that you will be playing in the ocean.

Now that you have those mental poison and images from your head, you have to put good quality thoughts in place of them. How about we use a think, what can be the right thoughts to own?

Imagine you simply rode an incredible wave along with your surfing felt better than it ever has before. An amount you be considering? Your attention would most likely be on your strengths and desires e.g. "I'm surfing real well, I'll land that move next time". What we should focus our attention on expands so thinking about that which you need to happen is key. You might be also apt to be very focused on the actual moment after an exciting ride, experiencing and enjoying the scenery, the water, at one together with the whole experience. Really recall in detail how you felt in a past good surfing experience. How did your system feel? Strong? Flexible? Energized? How did you paddle? Confidently? Aggressively? The fact that was in your head? Positive thoughts? No thoughts? Really attempt to recreate that very same positive feeling.

As an example, you may think that a paddling machine, one's body light and energized, already anticipating how good your following ride will feel, your board slicing through the water with speed, excited to try a move you haven't done before.

Connecting with nature by spending waiting for between sets swimming underwater, or exploring the headland is the one other good way to generate some positive thoughts. However put it into practice, the only goal is you generate thoughts that happy to you personally.

This method may take a little time to develop so practice it and extremely get the good feelings flowing through you. Sometimes the negative opinions thinks too powerful to get over such as the give up, really target the nature near you and be grateful, you'll find the energy! Sometimes the mental poison could be more subtle and hard to identify. If this is the truth for you personally, observe yourself. The next occasion you surf just quietly listen to what is happening through your mind. Is it negative or positive? Is the attention on your weaknesses and fears, maybe strengths and desires? The more aware you become of the thoughts, the harder it will be possible to find the ones that provide you.

You can even use affirmations or positive statements to assist focus the mind, e.g.

- Good waves always come to me - My surfing improves with each and every wave - Thx to stay in the ocean

Just uncover what matches your needs, what keeps your mind on the positive side. Watch how are you affected, surfing will end up a lot more rewarding in your case!

Learning New Moves

It is usually great for feel your surfing is improving. One of the primary feelings is pulling off a move you've never done before! However sometimes you might find yourself trying so difficult to behave new but it just won't happen. This really is another time when it's best to utilize power of mental performance in addition to the physical energy you have been throwing in it. If you were trying the move for quite a while with no success it's wise to break it on to two stages; clearing the blockage, then visualizing completion.

Step1 - clearing hindering believes

This stage clears the backlog of thoughts you've got in regards to the move and your capability to get it done. If, as an example you are hoping to do a backhand air and you've got already attempted it 50 times without landing it, your not likely looking for it with the exact same enthusiasm while you did the initial few times. The thoughts you might have from all of these failed attempts can hang over you prefer a cloud and cause more frustration. We have to get rid of this cloud and also to do that we must identify the thoughts which might be blocking the sun's rays. Contemplate these questions, exactly what do I do think and feel before I aim the move? Think about following a failed attempt? Will i take into consideration a few things i did wrong or things i did right? Only think of or attempt to picture myself doing the move today, what feelings arise then?

With one of these answers you could start to see what's stopping you from proceeding.

Here are the backhand air example again in terms of the above questions. So before the move I think "I can't do these but I'll just try it", and "My feet will slip over board". After it' think "I can't do them, my method is wrong", I paddle out of the home feeling bad about my surfing. When I think about the move I feel frustrated and unconfident, I do think my strategy is way off, I doubt I could improve it.

Given that we've identified those hindering thoughts we can advance. It takes discipline and practice but we stop giving our energy to those unhelpful thoughts and hang the vitality into some thing useful and positive.

Prior to going to another step, look at a baby that is certainly learning how to walk. If it falls down this doesn't happen concern yourself with just what it did wrong, or whether its technique was correct, plus it doesn't put on the error. It is aware that the training what food was in the method, the mistakes won't need to be analyzed, it focuses all energy on the next attempt and expenses into it! Always try to keep in mind that you learn something on the failed attempts instinctively. Rid yourself of any hindering thoughts and know you can achieve anything you give attention to.

Step # 2 -visualizing the specific move

We have now all this energy which we now have claimed away from negative opinions, feelings and also over analyzing our mistakes and technique. That alone will boost your surfing, but if you channel this energy into supporting yourself, you will be moving toward pulling that new move. We are able to do this with visualization.

Firstly we have to obtain a strong visual image of just what the move looks like. Watch a DVD or look at a magazine, get the move and take it in. Hit slow-mo if you'd like, soak up the tactic but don't keep worrying about it, just absorb it with full awareness.

Now, go somewhere quiet and relax, close up your eyes and imagine you're going surfing at the local break. Try to be as realistic as you can, think about the sound with the waves, give an impression of the ocean, how the water feels. Imagine yourself catching a wave and notice the sensation of riding it, then when you are ready visualize the move. Imagine the actual way it would feel, your system flowing over the movements, your board firmly beneath your feet, your excitement as you complete it perfectly. If you think any negativity coming up that's ok, allow it pass and check again, all you are doing gets the sense of completion. There could be a certain area of the move you typically damage, follow it before you see yourself flowing through that movement with perfect technique. Visualize every last detail so it becomes alive. When you have a fantastic feel for the move, try visualizing it from another woman's perspective, just like you are watching yourself surf. Increase the risk for scene as realistic as is possible again, see yourself catch a wave, surfing confidently and completing the actual required move effortlessly.

Do these visualizations regularly, they're going to build confidence and a a sense possibility in your surfing. You will soon be approaching the move with full commitment and believing that you're going to ensure it is. Previously you could have been passing it on your very best self but the negative thoughts were sabotaging your efforts, meaning your very best was below 100%. Congratulations, you will be running at 100%, you'll completely expect success, and I bet you will observe some drastic improvement, in both your surfing and the volume of fun you will have.

Visualization alone isn't enough though, so it's once again time heading to the water again and also have awesome. Practice enthusiastically, transformation happens through action. As said before, affirmations are another technique which you can use to check the visualizing. These are generally particularly useful when you are out in the river, they remind one to focus on the positive side. Revisit the questions from step one. What pessimism have you identify? Get those negative opinions swap them around in order to create your individual affirmations.

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junipersgarden · 4 years

Text

metanoia 5. | Mistake

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

SUMMARY: Nick Fury has successfully managed to kidnap Peter and yourself by taking full control over your vacation, Peter’s jealously and love takes control as he targets Brad Davis... quite literally.

WORD COUNT: 2687 words

WARNINGS: Mention of blood

a/n: i still have to write the next chapter and gonna be honest i dunno when i will but i hope you enjoy this part !!

[NOT MY GIF]

...

On a bus in the Eastern Alps, Austria...

...

"Why does Flash do those livestreams?" You tilt your head to the side as you observe Flash talking into his phone as he exaggerates his current status.

Peter simply shrugs with his mouth turned down and eyebrows raised as you giggle at his weird facial expression.

You and Peter were seated toward the back of the bus and the both of you were stoked that you two finally got to have quality time; a time to finally relax and try and not stress about the Fire Elemental that could potentially destroy all of Prague.

You had to also be mindful of what you said and who you said it to so you don't accidentally expose yourself; sure you'd been Saviour as long as Peter's been Spider-Man but still always kept track of your words and actions.

"So, how have you been Y/N/N? Just, haven't really talked or seen you in a while and I'm really sorry about that." Peter's eyes soften as he shifts to look at you.

Knowing he was referring to Spider-Man duties, you weren't mad or anything at him; the crime rate has risen after the Blip since people left with nothing have corrupted themselves and villains have become more 'popular' merely because the Avengers don't exist anymore.

It was up to you and Peter to protect the neighbourhoods in New York like you two had done in previous years but now you both are expected to carry the mantles of the deceased and absent Avengers.

Yes it scared you to be seen as one of the next Avenger's to promise to live to guard the Earth from any threats with your life, sacrificing everything for everyone to be safe but what scared you the most was drifting from the important people in your life like your family, F/N, MJ, Ned and Peter.

"'M sure it's not your fault you've been busy and it's fine Pete. I'm doing alright I guess; just everything feels out of balance after the whole you know. But I don't wanna waste time sobbing about-"

"Hey," Peter gently grabs a hold of your knee in a comforting way, "I know you're not big on talking about feelings but it's good to let it out; whenever you're ready I'm here."

Peter rubbed soothing circles on your knee with a twinkle in his eyes as if he swore on his life he'd be there for you no matter what.

You deeply sigh and refuse to cry but you placed your hand to top of his, turning your head to face him.

"T-There's something I wanna show you." Peter kept his hand on your knee as he dove, scrambling in his bag he fished out what appeared to a glasses case.

The case looked so familiar to you but you couldn't exactly identify where you'd seen it or what possibly is inside it but it seemed to be important.

"Is this you're way of telling me you need glasses?"

"N-No! I got these off... Nick Fury." Peter said ever so quietly, afraid someone would hear him.

"O-Oh... what is it?" You lift your hand off Peter's so he can open it.

Peter opens the case and reveals a pair of glasses with a Stark Industries card beneath it.

"Oh god." You exhale as you stare intensely at the glasses and instantly remember seeing Tony on multiple occasions working on that exact pair or wearing glasses so similar to the one's in front of you.

Peter sees your face and panics. "S-Sorry Y/N I shouldn't of-"

"Try them on Peter." You blurt out and surprise yourself and Peter.

Peter nods and picks the glasses and puts them on. "How do I look?"

You look cute.

"You look like Tony." You smile and pick up the card to fiddle with it and turning it over, you see Tony's handwriting and read what he wrote.

"Pete." You nudge him and pass the card to him so he can read it.

"For the next Tony Stark, I trust you. P.S Say Edith?" Peter reads out loud and gives you a look of confusion.

Suddenly, the lenses of the glasses turn blue as if an AI had been activated.

"Standby for retinal and bio-metrical scan." A female voice from the glasses speaks.

"Peter what's happening?"

"I don't-"

"Retinal and bio-metrical scan accepted." The female voice announces.

"H-Hello?" Peter calls out to the voice in the glasses.

"Hello Peter and Y/N. I am EDITH, Tony Stark's reality, security and defensive system

"So he made you for us?" Peter asks.

"No. But both of you do have access to all of Tony's protocol's."

That sure'd come handy.

"W-What do you stand for and what can you do?" You question EDITH.

"EDITH stands for Even Dead I'm The Hero. Tony loved his acronyms.

"Yeah, he sure did..." Peter agrees.

"I have access to the entire Stark Global Security Network, including multiple defensive satellites, as well as back doors to all major telecommunication networks."

"Woah..." You and Peter say at the same time.

Peter begins to glance around the bus with bewilderment and disbelief.

"W-What can you see?"

"P-People's phones. Like w-what they're on..."

"Oh my god..." You say with astonishment and you can't help but chuckle at your and Peter's discovery.

Peter chuckles along with you and he can't help but grin at you, thinking just maybe, the universe has given him the break and happiness he needs; Y/N is almost back and cannot wait until then or when he finds the perfect opportunity to let his hidden feelings out.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"10 minutes everyone!" Mr. Harrington shouts as the bus stops and everyone jumps to their feet to get out.

Even though Peter's plan was already failing miserably with Paris now out of the trip completely, Peter at least 4 and a half hours just with Y/N without anything going wrong or bad or Brad Davis trying to swoop Y/N away from him was a bonus.

Peter and Y/N had talked for the whole bus ride and shared a few laughs and reconnected more than they have ever done in the last 8 months.

"You go first." Peter offers Y/N to go before him to hop off the bus.

Y/N complied and thanks Peter but as he went to follow her, Dmitri struck his arm out to prevent Peter from walking any further.

"What?" Peter queries as he watches Y/N and the rest of his class walk further away.

Dmitri points and Peter's eyes travelled along Dmitri's finger to a blonde woman with her arms crossed staring at him before disappearing from plain sight.

Peter grips his backpack and began to pursue after her and entered in what was a closed bar and the woman standing with her arms down her sides and noticed something black lying on a fussball table.

"Hello-"

"Close the door." The woman says with an accent.

Peter twists the blue door's handle and closed it shut, giving the woman an awkward smile, started to walk to her and held his hand out for the woman to shake but she stayed perfectly still and unimpressed.

"Um, I'm Peter Parker-"

"Take off your clothes."

I-I'm sorry what?

"Excuse me-"

"You told Fury Spider-Man couldn't be seen in Europe. So I made you this; another suit" The woman leaned toward the table and picked up a black package and gifted it to Peter.

"Oh uh, thank you." Peter grabs the suit but stood with it, not knowing what to do and certainly not wanting to-

"Take off your clothes!" The woman demands in a frustrated and annoyed tone.

"This is embarrassing..."

Peter moves ever so slowly, hoping that maybe she'd tell him not to but she yelled at him to hurry up so Peter dropped his backpack and setted his suit back onto the table.

Here goes nothing...

Fumbling with his zipper, Peter pulls down his jeans and to his horror, the door clicked open.

A beam of white light shone into the room and Peter scrambles to the woman who was reaching for her gun.

"No, no, no don't!" Peter latches his hand to grab the woman's gun and held his other hand as some sort of protection and saw the person at the door was none other than his rival Brad Davis.

"Woah!" Brad peers up from his phone and examines the scene in front of him. "Sorry, uh, I thought this was the bathroom?"

"This is not what it looks like!" Peter hurriedly stammers.

"Uh yeah." A flash from Brad's phone followed by the noise of a camera click.

"What are you doing-"

"I'll leave you two alone." Brad backs his way to the door.

The woman quickly grasps her gun and aimed it to Brad's head as Peter struggles with his pants. "Don't shoot anybody!"

Peter beckons to Brad to stop so he could explain as he zips up his undone flyer, Peter leaves the bar and sees Brad speed walking back up to the group.

"Hey man look-"

"Look, Peter. I'm not here to judge your life choices, dude. If you want to hook up with some random European chick on our school trip, that's on you." Brad gradually slows down to a stop.

"That's not what that was. Honestly."

"I can't pretend I didn't see what I just saw. I know you're trying to get with Y/N/N. It's obvious. But I like her too."

"Wait a minute, hey, hey you can't show Y/N that photo dude come on."

"But I have to. She deserves the truth." Brad spins back around and jogs to everyone, desperately searching for Y/N.

Peter heaves out heavy breaths; years of friendship and everything could be ruined within the next couple of minutes all because of an out of context photo, stubborn Nick Fury and Brad Davis falling for Y/N too.

Oh no.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hoping back on the bus, you managed to score the backseat and promptly waited for Peter; saving a seat for him again and eager to spend the remaining extra 4 and a half hours with Peter again and possibly trying on EDITH for yourself.

As everyone piled onto the bus and finding their seats, you couldn't see Peter anywhere and worried that maybe something happened to him.

But your concern was turned into disappointment as you saw Peter sit in the nearest seat toward the front, the seat furthest away from you.

Maybe he didn't see me?

As if he'd read your mind, you see Peter shoot his head from his seat, staring down at Brad who was furiously scrolling on his phone and then avert his eyes to you before drawing away.

"Oh." You slouch into your seat and can't help but feel upset in a way.

Peter, again, sticks his head from his seat but is wearing the EDITH glasses and standing up with regret written all over him.

Curious, you sneakily stand up and glimpse out the back window and understand to why Peter's face is as pale as a ghost; a Stark Industries drone was hovering to the bus with intentions to strike.

"Holy s-" Your statement is interrupted by Flash Thompson being punched by Peter Parker.

Did he just punch Flash? About time! But wrong time Parker!

"H-Hey ARIS?" You squeak, heart racing with fear for the safety and lives of everyone.

"Good afternoon Ms. L/N, how may I-"

"Need you to tell me what the hell Parker did." You grumble and aim your wrist at the drone for ARIS to scan the drone.

"Target is Brad Davis and is about to fire in 3, 2-"

Surveying the bus, you spot Brad out of his seat with his eyes on you and without thinking, you leap out of your seat.

"1."

"Brad-" Immediately the bus is taken under and swerves violently, people screaming at the instant motion.

Inertia fails to keep you balanced and you forcefully slam into a row of seats and bang your head slightly on the window.

Groaning in pain, everything around you seems heightened and intensified, vision blurred from the strong and unexpected impact, a weight of someone yanking your arm awakes you from your state and soon realise Brad had dragged you to the floor with him.

"Lookatthebabymountaingoats!" Peter's piped voice strains, begging for everyone to look the other way.

Semi shoving yourself off Brad, you help him to his feet and allow him to go in front of you so he can see the 'baby mountain goats'.

With everyone distracted, Peter springs into the air and through the emergency exit window, you watch with two thoughts: What the hell are you doing and what the hell did you do?

Hearing sounds of the drone malfunctioning, you rotate yourself and see flames being emitted from the drone and wince at the explosion, you crawl back into your original seat.

"Didn't see any mountain goats..." Mr. Harrington sadden utters.

"You missed them."

"I know you think none of us have notice Peter." Betty abruptly confesses.

Your heart drops to your stomach; for sure Peter Parker was not in anyway subtle about being Spider-Man but he did have you fooled for years until- until then...

"But your new look," Oh thank god Betty, "I love it."

Sinking into your seat again, you hiss at the pain of your head and massage to rid the pain but as you land your fingers to the wound, you feel that the back of your head is damp.

Pulling your hand from your head, you gasp as you see blood staining your fingertips; the red metallic liquid decorated with black meant that the wound would be deep if it was secreting your 'black blood' which contained essence of your powers out.

"Damn it."

There was only one way to heal it but that would require for your eyes to fully blackout but the chances of someone seeing your eyes could mean the end of your life but if this patch doesn't heal fast enough naturally without extra energy or power converted strictly to the injury could mean severe blood loss.

Let's do this...

You shut your eyelids and focus intently, a small shallow breath leaves you, feeling your iris and eyes become tainted with black.

You could feel the wound closing up and blood seeping its way back into your body, an invisible wave of energy forms around it and soon enough, the gash is no more but you could tell there would be some sort of mark and continuous aching.

"Hey Y/N, you have to see this."

Opening your eyes, you forget of your darkened pupils and squint your eyes shut and knead them to make your eyes go back to normal.

You'd only seen Brad with his eyes glued to his phone but you had no clue of the people around you.

Going with Attempt #2, you bravely open your eyes and breathe out a breath of relief.

Brad, still retaining to his phone, slides into the seat next to you.

"What is it Brad?"

"It's about Peter. He and this chick were in the bathroom and-"

Peter would never.

"You got proof?"

"Yeah! I got a photo of them; can't believe Peter could do such a thing."

Brad enters his photo gallery and is puzzled as he insanely swipes through all his photos.

"Uh, this is so weird, it was right here on my phone!" Brad tries to justify.

"Uh huh... totally weird... Brad if you don't mind, I'm incredibly tired from almost being killed again and would like to enjoy a nap by myself?"

"Oh, yeah, s-sure..." Brad lowers his seat and goes back to his seat, still hunting for his precious picture.

Bending down, you fish out your pair of headphones and plug them into your phone and open your playlist, adjusting the headphones to your ears and Google 'Popular attractions in Prague' and 'Events in Prague'.

Prague for the meanwhile before getting burnt to crisps better be worth it...

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lovelyirony · 4 years

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Hhhhhhnggggg I thought of something and I think you can make it beautiful. "Being your father is more important to me than being their friend."

thank you!

If you had told Tony Stark that he would be a father figure some day, he would’ve laughed in your face. Because Tony Stark is not a figure for anything besides perhaps business or alcoholism.

But then Iron Man.

But then Avengers.

But then...everything.

The first time he really considers himself a father figure is when he gets emailed from Harley who starts it off with “why is your email embarrassingly easy to hack? Anyway I want to ask you about this robot thing. I’m not saying I’m building it but if I would be doing so what would I need.”

Tony emails back:

“When you hack into my email all of my employees who work in the encryption networks get an alert and put you on the ‘watch-for-this’ list. Basically all about employment. Anyway, suppose you are building this (and you are, because you’re a punk)...you need some copper wiring and I’ll send you the other stuff.”

Harley and Tony pull up a sort of correspondence over email. And then Harley demands to have his number because “no one uses email anymore except for clothing companies, and you are not supplying me with any good deals on shirts.”

(Tony absolutely does deny that he loves this kid when Rhodey catches them talking on the phone.)

He also says he’s just providing a learning opportunity when Harley and his sister get to come to New York for a summer.

“It’s because you like kids,” Rhodey says. “And you like Harley because he’s as much of a little shit as you are.”

“False, he’s even more so. He built a potato gun and aimed it at me the first time we met.”

“And you probably made some wise-ass remark about him or what have you. I wanna meet him.”

Harley is an asshole.

(Tony’s glad to have him.)

His sister is sweet. Lily likes to learn about the world and the different connections between countries. Tony has no doubt that she has a career with the UN and makes sure to subtly get her books about political science and cool historical events.

They don’t mention the distinct lack of the Avengers, at least until they’re at the dinner table and Tony’s picking at broccoli.

“So, when are you going to recruit new members?” Harley asks, looking directly at him. He’s one of the few people in Tony’s life that can look at him directly now. He’s never shied away from that, and he can appreciate it.

“Why would I recruit new members?”

“We still need the Avengers. Besides, maybe you can find someone who doesn’t have as lame a costume as Captain America.”

Tony snorts, taking his plate to the sink.

“I’ll think about it.”

He thinks long and he thinks hard that night. Tony’s not an idiot when it comes to the team’s whereabouts. They need somewhere where they are untouchable by anyone.

And where better than a country with a long reputation of being a total recluse?

He’ll have to ask King T’Challa if they also put coffee grounds down the sink.

But they do need a team. And he remembers in the letter that Steve sent that he said that the Avengers were perhaps more of a family for Tony than for Steve.

Yeah. It shows. Shows by the way Natasha, Clint, and Wanda all left with him. Shows how they’re family because no one’s there for Tony when he’s gasping for air from Steve’s shield crashing down on his chest, cracking.

(He said that the shield didn’t belong to Steve. He wasn’t wrong. That shield doesn’t belong to Steve, because it’s not a belonging. It’s simply...Steve.)

So. Family. Tony needs to find a new one. Or just new teammates.

He talks to Rhodey, who agrees to be an overseer or who shows up.

Rhodey asks about Spider-Man.

“He’s on reserves only,” Tony says. “I can’t have him get hurt.”

Peter’s a great kid. One of the best there is, most likely. (Just don’t ever ask Tony to say that out loud.)

And he’s been itching to test out some new micro-fabric that has to do with defensive techniques that Tony’s been toying with, and this is the perfect time to introduce Peter to Harley.

Harley’s soft, worn t-shirts contrast with the bright, punny shirts that Peter almost always wears. Peter talks a mile a minute while Harley really only says what he has to.

At first, Tony isn’t sure if they’re going to get along. Harley’s not one for enthusiastic, jumpy people and hates going into New York City for literally anything.

(“You’re supposed to come for dinner! We’re only eating with Pepper!”

“I literally do not care. I saw a rat and I saw a person who was wearing neon orange. I am not dealing with this.”)

But Peter is surprisingly savage when he wants to be, and they bond over roasting Tony within an inch of his life.

“I literally cannot believe you,” Tony says. “You go from stuttering to roasting me over my shoe choice.”

“Mr. Stark, those are quite possibly the ugliest shoes you could wear to this event,” Peter stresses. “You’re wearing a suit and bright orange shoes.”

“Yes! It’s called being unique.”

“It’s called ‘you’re about to get roasted by every magazine and social media account’,” Harley answers, not even looking up from his project. “Change your shoes.”

“I’m Iron Man. I can handle a little fashion roasting.”

“Yeah but you should have better taste,” Harley deadpans. “Go with the silver shoes. They’re not terrible.” Tony pouts but changes into the shoes.

Harley and Peter send him both an article about “the unique, amazingly quirky style of one Tony Stark,” with captions that mean the same thing: told you so.

It’s sad when Harley has to go back home with Lily. Tony promises them that they can spend every summer upstate if their mother is okay with it. Lily gives him a friendship bracelet before they fly and no, Tony does not Cry Actual Buckets.

Peter’s summer is about to end, and Tony’s getting on him about last minute AP homework.

“What do you mean you didn’t have time to finish up your AP History diorama? You spent all of last weekend googling military conspiracy theories! You have had time!”

“Okay, that’s fair, but still--”

Tony sends Harley and Lily care packages and letters. They send him back letters about the school day, what’s going on in the community, and Lily tends to “tell on” her brother about his own projects.

“She didn’t have to tell you I was building a flying motorbike,” Harley whines. “Or that I couldn’t modulate it.”

“Yeah, but she knows that you need someone to bounce ideas off of. So you could’ve easily talked to Peter or myself.”

(The motorbike works and Tony has to plead with Harley not to use it to get to New York.

“Feasibly if I could up the speed, Lily and I could be there in six hours so--”

“Don’t you dare!”)

Peter drops by all the time to check in on the progress of the new Avengers. They’ve contacted one of Rhodey’s “friends,” Carol Danvers.

“A woman that cool? Simply could not have been ‘just’ a friend,” Tony says, smiling. “We’ll ask her about it later.”

“Nope, you and your freaky Spider-Son are not asking Danvers shit,” Rhodey says.

“He’s not my son.”

“He might as well be, sweetheart. He’s already copying your penchant for graphic shirts and being horrible at lying.”

“I’m not horrible at it.”

“Yes you are,” Rhodey answers. “For example. Tell me a lie. Tell me that you hate Peter.”

“Why would I ever tell that lie?”

“Because you can’t. Next question. When are you going to lecture him about not stealing leftovers?”

Tony laughs.

In all honesty, life has been going great. In Tony’s personal life, he and Pepper are going back to better terms friendship-wise. Harley is coming up for Christmas and Peter’s been planning Secret Santa with everyone who lives at the base.

And then they hear word of a return.

Rhodey wants to take...drastic measures.

“We are not sending them to the moon,” Pepper says, rolling her eyes.

“Why not?”

“A waste of money, Jim. Honestly.”

“True point.”

Tony freezes when he realizes that he won’t be there in time to see them because he’s picking Harley and Lily up.

“You take Peter with you, we’ll meet them, Rhodey says, smiling. “Nothing like a classic New York welcome, right?”

“You are not yelling ‘fuck you’ with a bullhorn,” Tony responds, trying to hide a laugh. “I better not hear that you made international news.”

“Then don’t turn on your TV.”

Harley and Lily have already heard the news. Harley’s digging through his suitcase in the middle of the airport, and Tony has to flash a smile and a guilty look to a security guard in order for the TSA to lay off.

“What are you doing, nerd?” Tony asks.

“Trying to make a slingshot that has a bit more bite to it. You think we can pick up loose concrete rocks on the way to the base?” Harley asks.

“No, we are not doing that. What I am doing is dropping you off at Peter’s house until I can get them somewhere to stay.”

“You don’t owe them anything,” Lily remarks. “They broke international border rules and technically should be under government jurisdiction. You don’t have to give them a space.”

“And yet I’m the only one good at containing,” Tony sighs. “Look, I’m sorry that this won’t be the ideal--”

“Peter’s not at his house,” Harley answers, frowning at his phone. “Something about barricades?”

“Oh my god,” Tony groans. “Rhodey got him. Well, in the car. How good are both of you at immediately ducking and rolling out of a car?”

“We can still be there for you,” Harley says, annoyed. “I have a stun gun that could take down a tyrannosaurus rex.”

“You can’t substantiate that with concrete evidence,” Lily argues.

“I theorize that Rogers has to be weaker than a T-Rex, so I think it’s gonna be effective,” Harley responds. “Let me try it out, Tony? Please?”

“No,” Tony says, but adds, “maybe in a week.”

Peter is waiting inside and lights up when he sees Harley and Lily.

“Good, the holidays can really begin,” Peter jokes. “We even have the questionable side of the family in for a visit.”

“For now,” Rhodey says, scowling. “Tony, please tell me they won’t be here for the holidays. We were supposed to pull out the decorations today.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Tony says wearily. “Have the delegates been contacted?”

“Marya and Joseph are on their way to deal with re-homing issues and family connections. They should be tied up with legal and personal aspects all day.”

“Good,” Tony says. “But I do need to go greet them.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Rhodey says, serious expression. “I can deal with them.”

“You shouldn’t have to. And besides, it’ll be better coming from me. Being here for you all is more important than trying to be their friend.”

Harley, Peter, and Lily give him a hug.

“Don’t stay too long,” Peter says. “I made a Christmas Roulette Playlist.”

“Why is it roulette?”

“One Halloween song and at least one opera song. Whoever can name the song first wins the privilege of opening the first ornament for the tree.”

“Wait up for me,” Tony says, grinning.

It’s hard to face people you used to know.

But Tony has a family to get back to.

#tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #iron fam #anyways tony's living his best life adn harley's an asshole #harley keener #peter parker #also mcu never gave harley's sister a name so i named her lily because i love her #lovelyirony writes

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

Text

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Eighteen

A/n: It's been 6 months since I've updated this and I deeply apologize for that🥺. You may or may not see a change in my writing style because I can't really tell if it's changed some. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! Love you all!!! •••••••••••••••••••••

After three hours of exploring Altissia, (Y/n) and Ignis found themselves resting by the fountain. They continued chatting until Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio rendezvoused with them after their very own excursions around the beautiful city. The trio began questioning the two left and right, wondering what the couple had done in their absence.

"So how was the date?" Prompto pried, eager to know the answer.

Pestilence lifted her head and met the blonde's gaze. "I wouldn't classify it as a "date"."

"You're tellin' me the two of you did nothing romantic?" Gladio asked. "Talk about a wasted opportunity."

"We simply traversed the streets of Altissia to see what all this city had to offer," Pestilence said.

"Did you guys even hold hands?" Prompto questioned.

"No," Ignis simply replies.

"How boring," Noctis muttered.

(Y/n) pushed herself off the rim of the fountain and crossed her arms. "Regardless of what we did or didn't do, Ignis and I enjoyed our time together. But now since everyone is here, we should depart for First Secretary Claustra's estate. You've a negotiation to attend, Noctis."

The soon-to-be king groaned. "Don't remind me..."

"We best make haste," Ignis said as he stood up. "Keeping the first secretary waiting would be ill-advised."

The Horseman walked away from the fountain with the boys close behind. The raven-haired boy was puzzled as he followed her. "You know where the estate is?"

"Ignis and I passed it during our stroll through the city," she replied.

The retinue walked through the streets of Altissia. They weaved around corners and through a few pedestrians to reach their destination. Once they arrived at the large estate, Noctis was escorted inside while the others were forced to wait outside by the front gate.

A few minutes passed and everyone, minus (Y/n), were startled when a girl they were unfamiliar with appeared out of nowhere. She had blonde locks and emerald eyes that glistened brilliantly in the sun. A smile graced her face as she stepped toward Pestilence. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but there's something I need to talk with you about."

"I'm shocked to find you here in Altissia, Famine," (Y/n) responded. "What could possibly be the issue?"

Famine looked around at Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis before whispering in her sister's ear. "Can we talk in private?"

"Of course." The snowy-haired girl glanced at the others. "There's a matter of great importance that I must attend. I will rendezvous with you all back at the Leville." Before the boys could respond, both girls vanished in the blink of an eye.

Gladio looked over at Prompto, noticing how he was staring at the spot Famine once stood. "What's with the dreamy-eyed look, huh?"

The marksman's cheeks were dusted a light crimson. "N-Nothing!"

<---------<<<<<

At the docks, Famine and Pestilence scanned their surroundings. When they saw no one else was around, they casted their gazes toward the calm, gleaming water. The golden-haired girl clasped her hands behind her back, her jade eyes still focused on the beautiful scenery. "I'm glad I found you so soon, Pestilence."

"What is this about?" (Y/n) asked.

"Death and War discovered some disturbing information about the empire while searching for their targets," Famine stated. "They plan to attack during the rite."

"I'm not surprised," the ivory-haired girl sighed.

"Our sisters will be here tonight. All of us are putting aside our hunt to provide help."

"Good, because this city is going to need all the help it can get tomorrow. Hopefully King Aeshema wouldn't mind our intervention."

Famine nodded. "He'll understand. He may be the daemon king, but he isn't cold-hearted. There's also something I wanted to ask."

"What is it?" (Y/n) inquired.

A smile bloomed on her sister's face. "War told me something quite interesting. Is it true you've become close to this Ignis fellow?"

Pestilence locked eyes with her. "It is. Are you going to tell me I should sever my ties with him, too?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no! I'm actually happy for you, Pestilence. After what happened to you, I think you deserve happiness. I'm glad you were able to find someone."

"War may not agree with us, but we all deserve happiness regardless of our role as the Four Horsemen."

"I understand why she sees love as a burden," Famine sighed. "After all, she was betrayed by the man she loved."

"Yes..." (Y/n) muttered. "But I pray she forgets the past and lives for the future. It took me 80 years to realize that all thanks to Ignis."

"Then I should let you rejoin him and the others," Famine giggled. "I'll join Death and War when they arrive in the city. We'll do everything in our power to help."

"Thank you, Famine."

(Y/n) vanished in a puff of smoke. A few seconds later, she appeared in the boys' hotel room. Her sudden appearance caused Prompto to fall off the bed with his camera in his grasp. He cried out in pain when his body landed on the hard floor. "My apologies, Prompto," she said, helping him off the floor and back onto the bed.

He rubbed the back of his head with a faint smile. "It's okay, (Y/n)."

Pestilence's gaze traveled over to Noctis, who was playing on his phone while relaxing in a comfy chair. "How were negotiations with Camelia?"

"I think it went well," Noctis answered unsurely, looking up from his phone. "Where'd you run off to?"

"Famine arrived in Altissia a short while after we did. Apparently, Death and War will also be joining her soon. They will be providing aid tomorrow during the rite."

"Guess this means we don't have to fill you in."

"No," she replied. "I'm already aware of the empire's plan to strike. We'll do everything in our power to aid you and the citizens of Altissia."

"We're gonna need all the help we can get," Noctis said.

(Y/n) strolled past the raven-haired boy and toward the balcony. She leaned against the railing, peering up at the sky. The sun was setting and the sky was painted with hues of orange, red, and yellow. A gentle breeze traveled through the city, her snowy locks blowing around her. She could hear the faint sounds of rushing water and the cheerful voices of children playing in the streets.

A sigh of content escaped Pestilence's lips as she continued to admire the scenery. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, vivid images of her previous life flashing through her mind. The feeling of a hand on her shoulder startled her, the images evaporating as her eyes fluttered opened. Looking to her right, she saw Ignis. She noticed his hair was wet and no longer in its usual style. From his appearance and scent, she could tell he just got out of the shower. "I was wondering where you were."

"I've been informed by Noctis of your siblings," he said. "We will indeed be needing assistance."

"I shall aid you and the others in evacuation details," she stated. Her eyes returned to the beautiful sky above, admiring the many colors. She fell silent for a minute before speaking up. "Raiden and I discussed Altissia being our destination as we escaped Galahd. Our dream was to start a new life together away from my mother and Edric. Unfortunately, our dream never came to fruition."

Ignis listened to her, silently moving his hand from her shoulder and placing it over hers as it gripped the railing tightly.

"I must thank you, though," she said, catching the advisor off guard.

"How so?" He inquired.

"If I hadn't met you, I'd still be blaming myself for his death. For 80 years, I believed I was the reason behind his downfall. But now, I know Edric is to blame." She unlatched her hand from around the railing and turned it over, threading her fingers through his. "I've been drowning in sorrow for years. You were the one to bring light to my darkened world and I cannot express how indebted I am." She squeezed his hand gingerly, smiling up at him. She stepped closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Ignis welcomed her warmth and remained still as they both stared at the setting sun. They remained close to each other until (Y/n) suddenly released his hand and stepped away from him with wide eyes. Her head snapped to the left as she developed tunnel vision. "Impossible..." She walked to the other end of the balcony, staring off into the distance. Before Ignis could ask about her sudden change in demeanor, she disappeared.

<----------<<<<<

(Y/n) appeared in front of a stairwell leading underground located near the first secretary's estate. She looked around, noticing the streets weren't as busy at night before descending the stairwell. Her bare feet padded against the tile as she walked down the set of stairwells.

Reaching the bottom, the Horseman's eyes narrowed as she spotted the draugr in front of a large painting. She noticed its lower body had regenerated and growled in annoyance. As she took a few steps toward the monster, she realized it hadn't detected her as it continued to bang its decaying fist against the portrait of a woman cladded in a red dress. Baffled, she circled around to see what it was trying to do.

A gasp escaped (Y/n) as something emerged from the painting. The draugr backed away as a chadarnook crawled out and revealed itself. Pestilence summoned her chakrams and went to attack her primary target but froze when she saw the undead warrior create a void of darkness and entered it, vanishing within seconds. She clicked her tongue in frustration as she turned her focus to the daemon.

The ivory-haired girl gripped her weapons tightly as she charged toward the chadarnook. Before her blades could slice through the daemon, she was flabbergasted when it suddenly disappeared. She immediately looked around for it, wondering where it could've gone. She couldn't sense it like the monsters from the Inner Sanctum, making it more difficult to locate.

All of a sudden, (Y/n) felt cold fingers wrap around her ankle and yank her off her feet. A cry of shock emitted from her throat as she fell to the floor and dropped her chakrams. She turned her head and saw the chadarnook dragging her toward the painting with a sinister cackle. She gritted her teeth as she conjured her chakrams. They vanished from the floor and reappeared in her hands. Before she could swing her blades, a dagger pierced the daemon's arm and it howled in pain as it released the Horseman's ankle.

Pestilence stared at the dagger before it dissipated. Looking toward the stairwell, she saw Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis. The blonde had taken a snapshot of the daemon before lowering his camera and summoning his pistol, shooting the enemy. Gladio and Noctis charged at the chadarnook with their swords and attacked. (Y/n) was surprised by their sudden appearance that she didn't realize her close proximity to the daemon until she was helped up by Ignis.

She thanked him before tossing her chakrams and slicing the assailant. Ignis conjured his daggers and joined Noctis and Gladio in close combat. Pestilence caught her weapon's before switching to her staff and casting a fire spell. The flames engulfed the chadarnook, causing it to wail in pain. Prompto and Ignis finished off the daemon before the blonde cried out in victory.

The boys dispelled their weapons as they turned their gazed toward the Horseman. Ignis was the first to question her. "What is the meaning of this, (Y/n)?"

Pestilence ridded herself of her staff and combed a hand through her slightly messy tresses. "The draugr was here, but I was too late. It awoken the daemon residing within the painting and vanished." She pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "This game of cat and mouse is becoming unbearable. That's beside the point, though. How did you find me?"

"A few people were complainin' about a ruckus from downstairs," Gladio said. "Figured we find you down here."

"I must apologize for my sudden disappearance," (Y/n) stated. "I was frightened the draugr was killing innocent people and couldn't bear the thought."

"Are you injured?" Ignis asked, his eyes raking over the girl's body in search of any injuries.

"Uh-oh, Mama Iggy is making an appearance," Prompto chuckled.

"Or maybe it's just he's worry about his girlfriend," Gladio commented.

The Horseman ignored their comments and shook her head. "No, I'm all right." She turned her back to the group and faced the stairwell. "Let's return to the hotel. You four should get some rest. It's been a long day."

"(Y/n)," Ignis murmured the girl's name as she walked up the stairs and disappeared.

"C'mon, let's head back." A yawn came from Noctis as he stretched his arms. "I'm about to pass out..."

"Me too," Prompto said, yawning right after his best friend.

The royal retinue left the basement and headed back to the Leville, which was only a few minutes away. When they entered their hotel room, Noctis and Prompto flopped down on one of the beds and closed their eyes, falling asleep within minutes. Gladio crawled into the other bed with his book in hand, not as tired as his friends and deciding to read before going to sleep. Ignis, who was the only one not in bed, searched for (Y/n). He checked the balcony before leaving the room and heading to the lobby.

On one of the plush couches in the lobby, Ignis located the Horseman and approached her. She sat with her legs crossed, staring at the painting hanging on the wall. She stretched out her arms, placing her hands on her knee as he sat down beside her. "The draugr knew a daemon was residing in the portrait, but how? Not once did it attack that monstrosity before deciding to withdraw. I fear as though it is being manipulated by another being."

"Is it possible for such an atrocity to be controlled?" Ignis questioned.

"Monsters from the Inner Sanctum are highly intelligent. While they are unable to speak, they are able to understand human speech. If someone were to offer it a deal it can't refuse, it's possible they are controlling it. It's the only explanation that explains its actions tonight."

"For now, we should focus on tomorrow," the advisor stated.

"Yes, you're right." (Y/n) uncrossed her legs and adjusted her position. She sat on her knees, her body facing Ignis. She reached her hands out, cupping his cheeks in her palms and tilting his face upward in order to gaze into his jade eyes. She leant down and pressed her lips against his, gently kissing him. It was a short kiss and when she pulled away, her lips hovered just a few centimeters away from his. A smile blossomed on her face as she continued to gaze lovingly into his eyes. "You should get some rest, Ignis."

"Yes, well..." The tactician became lost in her eyes for a few seconds before returning to reality. "You are quite a distraction, (Y/n)."

The Horseman giggled at his words. "I would loathe being the one to prevent you from sleeping."

"On the contrary, you are a welcomed distraction."

Her smile widened. "As much as I would love to continue this, we should part ways for the night." She dropped her hands from his cheeks and stood up. "I hope you sleep well, Ignis. I will see you in the morning."

He nodded. "Yes. Goodnight, (Y/n)."

#ffxv x reader #ffxv #final fantasy xv x reader #final fantasy xv #ignis x reader #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #Noctis Lucis Caelum

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roominthecastle · 4 years

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Thank you for taking the time and typing up your reply, @alma37.

Now I get where you were coming from. You are def much more attached to Zoe than I am. You don’t need to produce any other arguments and “I like it better this way” is a perfectly acceptable answer. And while I don’t believe Agatha’s return is completely at Zoe’s expense -- given that she would have died anyway --, I understand the pain of watching a favorite character used as fodder for another one’s story.

You’ve also raised some interesting points and the exact questions I’ve been pondering myself, so I’m gonna take this opportunity to just unload my thoughts here. Please don’t take this as me trying to talk you out of your opinion or preferences bc I don’t wanna do that.

This is mostly just me trying to explain my preferences to myself.

"after Blood Vessel, as much as Dracula liked her, I could not see him and Agatha together”

oh yes, theirs is an infinitely fucked up dynamic, there is no debating that. they are enemies, so murder attempts come w/ the territory, which is not every shipper’s cup of tea and that’s understandable. However, every relationship involving Dracula is fucked up this way by default since he automatically brings his "inclinations” into it. I guess one could write him already “tamed” and w/ less issues but then it wouldn’t really be him. This is a major thing I love about this show, how they are not afraid to portray him as a full-fledged monster who just keeps coming at you w/ a razor smile -- partly bc he literally can’t help himself. He is a predator who -- to once again quote the commentary -- operates w/ a “torturous sense of fairness” that, to me, echoes the amorality you can observe in the animal kingdom: there is no reasoning with a hungry lion once it’s spotted a zebra; it’s in its nature to hunt prey in order to survive. Empathy or morals don’t factor into this basic conduct.

Dracula has this hard-wired primal drive, too. And Agatha points it out early on when she calls him a beast who doesn’t understand the rules governing its behavior but simply follows them. Of course, he has a point, as well, when he claims he’s more than that. He is. Otherwise, he would just be absolved of all the killing he does, which would feel cheap and unjust and would rob his character of all the fun complexities. Underneath the veneer of a sophisticated nobleman there is a beast, and underneath that grotesque (protective) display are human remains and loads of festering mental health issues. But the only person who bothers to look at these layers and how they inform each other is Agatha. Her equally unyielding drive for knowledge & understanding is the power that allows her to counter him, exert control over him, and tap into his deformed human core in a way nobody else has ever been able to. She does this to save others from him but also to satisfy her own dark fascination, and in the process I think she also comes to feel for him. They reach a level of intimacy that makes this outcome inevitable, imo.

This, in my eyes, makes her pretty much the only person who has any chance at having a more meaningful relationship w/ him that lasts longer than his feeding time. This is also what comes across in Dracula’s indirect advice to Zoe: if she hopes to match him, she will need to conjure Agatha from his blood. He essentially gives her the key to his own destruction (which is also his way out), then retreats and waits. This has the same self-regulating vibe as him convincing himself that his immense supernatural power has ordinary loopholes like needing an invitation to enter or the sunlight. Shame is a control tactic and self-shaming is a form of self-control, albeit a very problematic one. He puts in checks and balances which you wouldn’t do unless deep down you knew you needed to be “checked and balanced” by someone who’s willing to take on the thankless task. He cannot do it, he can’t face himself (he literally smashes mirrors and turns from every reflective surface), but Agatha is willing and able to drag him back into the light.

This is why the parallel to Petruvio & his wife works so well. The design to Dracula’s mind (and therefore the way out) is scattered across time and many myths. Agatha collects these and uses them to lead him out of the prison he’s made for himself, which has its visual parallel in the maps being hidden inside the wife’s portrait.

In other words, I cannot see Dracula with anyone else long term since he sees everyone else as a toy and/or a prey -- a means to an end. That’s how he sees Agatha at first, too, and it takes some time for him to realize that he made a mistake. This delayed realization can also be attributed to his bestial drive that has subdued the rest of him for so long, he really cannot cut through its wiring on his own; he came to exist to continue his existence, and the pointless circularity of this is the biggest trap: despite leaving loopholes, he’s still a prisoner of his own hunger & shame. Feeling for others would make it infinitely more painful but shedding empathy only provides a temporary release. Still, life lived solely for oneself is never fulfilling no matter how long it stretches forward, and the insatiable hunger Dracula feels gels nicely w/ this.

It’s Agatha who breaks the circle when she makes him confront the human origin of all this mess. Once she gets through to him, once she makes him remember, we can witness what Mofftiss call the “beginning of morality” and empathy seeping back into Dracula, and his existence takes on meaning when he chooses to sacrifice his immortality to take away her mortal pain. To me this feels like a direct call-back to the scene where he asks her if she is willing to die to save that terrified child and she tells him she would die to save any terrified child bc “there is a nobler purpose to my life than simply prolonging it.” But Dracula only comes to feel this nobler purpose where Agatha is concerned (baby steps :). He still doesn’t care about anyone else but that could be a juicy problem to tackle next season if there is one. *crosses fingers*

“they needed Agatha to stay human until the end of TDC - but, in that case, why bring her so late in the episode?”

I’m afraid only the writers can answer this one. But my best guess is that there are other characters from the novel -- Lucy especially -- they wanted to play with a little. Since I like them, too, and like how they planted them into this modern setting, I have no problem w/ Agatha taking her sweet time resurrecting. This was also a nice way to show just how bored & lost Dracula is in her absence (side note: him using Tinder as a takeout menu + complaining that he has to exercise now that everything is delivered and doesn’t have to be hunted down will never not be hilarious AF). I have seen a few fans complain about the pacing of ep 3 but I think it provides a nice, strategic contrast to the more dynamic previous episode, again highlighting why Agatha’s presence in his life was so invigorating and how her absence is the opposite -- he is a 500-year old warlord yet his life is now somehow... banal bc he has no worthy match.

“If he really want Agatha so badly, and since Zoe doesn’t come after him (she has other things in mind, understandably), why does he not? To see if his little ply worked? If his dear Agatha is back? The only time Renfield talks about Zoe, Dracula doesn’t seem remotely interested.”

I think he is interested (his suggestion to use bats as surveillance cracks me up every time) and he is waiting. He keeps tabs on the Harker Foundation from a safe distance and, to me, looks rather crestfallen when Renfield tells him that his lady friend (aka Van Helsing aka his “Agatha incubator”) left and seems to have lost all interest in Dracula. I think he expected a different outcome. It’s speculation but I think he expected Zoe to drink his blood (bc it doesn’t come as a surprise later when he notices the changes in her) and expected it to have an effect sooner and time is running out since Zoe is dying. Zoe was supposed to act similarly to the bed of his own native soil (she is a “bed” of Agatha’s DNA) and regenerate Agatha even if it’s temporary. So he is both staying away (survival is still key) and wants her to come after him again -- a delicious contradiction he can’t untangle by himself.

Lack of (threatening) interest, however, is a clear sign that Agatha is not back. If she were, he def wouldn’t have to go and check. She would waste no time seeking him (and indeed she wants to go after him the second she manifests and, as Zoe remarks, Dracula isn’t surprised to find her at his doorstep -- another parallel to ep 1 where it’s Agatha who anticipated him coming for his bride). I think he was waiting for her return just like Agatha was waiting for his in ep 2 (another parallel). It’s Renfield‘s remarks that drive this point home for me as he has a front row seat to what Dracula is like during these 3 months: “I wonder what it is you actually want,” and “What are you doing with your time?” I think it’s no coincidence that both of these questions get answered only w/ Agatha’s return. Dracula basically idles in the meantime. And the fact that it takes Agatha 3 months to properly manifest, when Zoe is the weakest, is def a testament to Zoe’s strength of character. She is a Van Helsing, after all. And they vanquish the monster in the smartest, most elegant way: by making him feel something other than blinding hunger for the first time in centuries.

#alma37 #bbc dracula #dracula x agatha #musings

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wainwrightjakobshammerlock · 4 years

Text

finally. i decided to do this. anyways hello there, i am jake and today i want to talk about something; you see, if you are in the tf2 fandom, you probably know about heavymedic. Wherther you are a hardcore gamer who resents f2p’s or a person that never played the game but has trillions of notes on their art- you know heavymedic exists and most of all you probably ship it.

And I find that weird. In the few fandoms in my life I have been in I had never seen a single ship be so widely if not shipped, then accepted. Sure, maybe everyone in the GF fandom knows what Billdip is - for better or for worse. Sure, maybe the HS fandom is 70% shipping.

But I have never ever seen such a phenomenon in a prominent multiplayer game fandom. A fandom, sadly, oftentimes filled with toxicity. Overwatch is very similar here - yet ships are either a hot topic of discussion or straight up ignored. But TF2? In here for whatever reason we ship these two mercenaries. And in this essay I will try and find a reason or two why is that.

Apologies for any mistakes or incoherency. English is not my first language, I need to ramble, and my vocabulary is all over the place.

Content warning: mentions of homophobia, blood, death, mentions of WLW fetishization, nsfw mention. Also MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE TF2 COMICS.

Part 1: Canonical Evidence and Interactions

Let’s be honest: I could ramble about this one for days on end. But I’ll try and keep it short.

First and foremost we have the official videos. And of course the first thing that comes to mind is Meet the Medic.

At the very start of the part where Medic himself appears, we see him telling a joke about a particularly gruesome situation to Heavy.

He laughs along with him, visibly enjoying his company. He even smiles as he waits for another joke. Heavy only shows genuine fear a lot later.

And of course this damn scene always cracks me up. Medic slightly pinches Heavy’s cheek and strokes his lip gently (the other part is almost not noticeable unless you play the video at slow speed).

Of course we all know about the Hand Hold that happens somewhere halfway in the vid. I don’t think I have to explain the gayness in that. The fact their hands stay interlocked even after Medic helps Heavy up. The deep breath Medic takes because even he cannot handle the emotions. That few seconds is unresolved sexual tension manifest.

Overall the short shows a strong feeling of trust between these two. Medic confides in Heavy and reverse. Yeah he puts a baboon heart into his friend’s chest cavity but the fact (as proven at the end of the video) that Heavy was the first one to have an Ubercharge implanted into him shows that Medic at the very least considers him a lab rat.

I treat End of the Line as non-canonical, as do many others, and as such won’t discuss it here. But it will forever crack me up that Valve endorsed such levels of homoerotic subtext.

These two have some short moments in other videos, like for example in Invasion Heavy helps Medic up (CINEMATIC PARALLELS) but it’s nothing major so I guess I’ll skip forward.

Second is their interactions ingame. You might call me a weirdo for trying to find stuff in there but holy shit I have things to say and I’m going to say them.

You thought I was going to fanboy over the “i love this doktor” voiceline huh? Well not really. I wish these two had unique lines if they assist one another.

Heavy is literally listed on the official wiki as the “ideal medic buddy” and multiple pages on that exact wiki say some pretty interesting things.

I have to say something about the Gentleman’s Ushanka and/or Pocket Medic. They are both community cosmetics - but the fact they both got accepted by Valve says a lot. Above is text snipped from the actual wiki.

Last but not least: The Comics. Darned comics. The pair of mercenaries has basically no interaction - unless you count issue 6.

Heavy getting absolutely PISSED when Medic is killed by Ch*avy. Their reunion. Medic referring to Heavy by “my friend” in a totally straight way. Kind of sad Valve wasted an opportunity for them to hug. Maybe they knew their comic artist ships them and wanted to avoid having to answer the Question™.

Part 2: Dynamics

This part’s a bit trickier, mostly due to the reason that I’m new to this whole dynamic analysis thing. Yeah I’m good at spotting canonical evidence but very specific shipping dynamics often escape my gaze.

The most obvious one is Big Guy, Little Guy. Quoting the TVTROPES page:

[…] This trope describes a pair of guys who always fight together, are best friends forever, and quite often have a very obvious hierarchy: The little guy is often in charge […] The little guy is usually listed first, since he’s the leader, and they are always listed together, as if they are one entity. In fact, some episodes may center on the fact that they can’t live without each other. […] If this is a case of Brains and Brawn, the Big Guy is usually the Brawn, and the Little Guy the Brains. It’s almost never the other way around, but in some cases the Big Guy can be rather smart too. […]

A sub-type of this, a common favorite here on Tumblr is known as “small chaotic big calm” and hoo boy if that isn’t these two. I don’t really have much to say here - again I am not an expert.

Part 3: Fandom Impact

So you don’t think Red Oktoberfest (as Heavymedic is sometimes called) is super popular on anywhere else than Tumblr? Wrong.

It’s hard to find TF2 fics on Archive of Our Own not tagged with Heavy/Medic. Of course most of them only contain hints to their relationship but go in the main tf2 tag and I can guarantee you, you’ll gonna see “implied heavy/medic” all the time.

But these two go further than AO3 or Tumblr or Instagram or whatever. They are recognized even within the wider circle of the fanbase. Take this SFM, for example. (I am using the Saxxy Awards version of Secret Lives here mostly due to the fact that the Heavymedic moment is much gayer. In the normal version, the dialogue isn’t changed, but they simply hold hands.)

youtube

But it gets deeper. (WARNING: THE GAY MOMENT IN THIS ONE IS NSFW. NOT EXPLICITLY SO BUT JUST A HEADS UP TUMBLR PLEASE DO NOT FLAG ME)

youtube

And the best part? The comments are extremely positive. You’d expect hoards upon hoards of homophobes screeching but no, the comments are supportive. Even on places such as Reddit or Youtube, comments like “yeah they’re gay and in love” do not get downvoted/disliked to hell; in fact the opposite.

Part 4: Canon Status

Let’s be real. Most ships are shipped because people want to explore the dynamics in fanfic, fanart or something else. But Heavymedic is shipped because… well, I have no idea.

Actually, I kind of do - but only theories. You see, while the canonical evidence is here, the creators have never said anything about them. No confirmation, no disproval, no hinting, nothing.

But the ship is so prominent! There has to be something causing this!- you say. And to that I present you 2 theories on why Heavy/Medic is so popular.

Theory number 1 states that we simply all choose to interpret their interactions as homoerotic. And this is very easy to disprove - there’s simply no way we just collectively agreed on these matters out of nothing. There has to be something bigger.

And theory 2 states that, well, our interpretation is the desired interpretation. But this is even more ridiculous than theory 1 for a number of reasons. If they are in fact gay, why hasn’t Valve made them canon yet?

A Theoretical Scenario

I am going to ramble big time on this one, so buckle up lads. I’ll discuss a theoretical scenario in which, well, if that was not obvious, Valve confirms Heavymedic as canon. Maybe then we will see why they will probably never do so.

TF2 is considered by typical capital G, alt-right Gamers as a “non-political” game. This means no women (in the game itself, at least, and if even, sexy women only), no queer folk and no minorities (for some reason they accept Demoman but throw a fit if someone draws any other merc as not being pearl white). Team Fortress 2 was around before Gamergate and other things like Gamers Rise Up. It’s a classic and Valve is regarded as the good guy to Epic Game’s bad guy. If Valve did anything to confirm doubts, wherther it be clearing up popular fanon or confirming ships, these people would throw hands. (Although they seemed to ignore when one of the writers confirmed Miss Pauling is a lesbian. Huh.) Even those that don’t play TF2 would come to the aid of their bros.

Let me illustrate with two very similar examples. In both cases these confirmations were the first made by the company as a whole, both are fairly recent and both confirm a character as gay.

First we have the confirmation of Tracer from Overwatch as a lesbian. It was done in one of OVW’s comics. Tracer is the FACE of Overwatch as a whole and while most of the fanbase accepted it (thankfully the Gamers are reluctant to infest ow), some people threw what I can only describe as a hissy fit. At least her girlfriend’s a background character.

Second is Neeko from League of Legends. Unlike Tracer she was added a while before it was confirmed she was gay. LOL is much more toxic and filled with Gamers than OW and holy shit people smeared LOL so much.

Of course these are not accurate to Heavy/Medic. In both of the cases I listed it was girls being wlw and we all know how much cisgender heterosexual gamers LOVE yuri porn. Apparently only girls can be gay because they can jack off to it - if it’s two guys then it’s disgusting. Nevertheless I think these are good approximations - in every case the company gets “shat on” on social media and other sites. With the community that Valve has, I think even if they wanted them to be gay, they would never ever confirm it.

Conclusion

I’m sorry for that ending. I had to theorize a bit. Regardless I’d love if you shared this on other sites, reblogged or whatever - I wasted at least 1 and a half hours of my life on it. Feel free to cite this as a source if someone asks you why you ship the big heavy weapons expert and the feral battle medic.

#my post #text post #tf2 #medic #heavy #heavymedic #long post

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diveronarpg · 4 years

Photo

Congratulations, BRIDGET! You’ve been accepted for the role of POMPEY. Admin Minnie: I had some trouble writing Piero in the beginning; in fact, I rewrote him a few times because I couldn’t find the right words to describe the core of him. But you, Bridget, nailed it exactly in ways that I had not even seen myself. You made him utter real — sometimes uncomfortably so, all of that feeling and pride, As I was reading your application, I immediately felt like he was already yours. I really tried to pick out my favorite line in your application, the detail that really drove it home for me — but the truth is, Bridget, you won me over so thoroughly that I love it all. I cannot wait to see you on our dash again, Bridget, and I’m so happy you’re back! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Bridget

Age | Twenty-two

Preferred Pronouns | She/they

Activity Level | I’m either gonna be on every three minutes or three days apart, there is no in between, but I promise to keep my activity constant and in line with your standards and let it be known if I am having any struggles with meeting them.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp? | Hazel

IN CHARACTER

Character | Pompey ; Piero Montrelle Ruiz

Piero ; italian: rock

Montrelle ; italian: mountain

Ruiz ; spanish: famous ruler

What drew you to this character? |

Listen, I made a meme when I was apping Hazel, Imma show y’all right now:

It’s a dumb meme and I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but share it.

I honestly play characters like Piero more than I play nicer, more morally-sound characters like Hazel, but I wanted to try something new, so ultimately I decided to pursue Hazel at the time. That said, as much as I love Hazel and would love to write her again, I kept thinking about Piero and his youth and ambition, and so now here we are, me obsessed and wanting to write him.

Okay, rambling ? Done. Let’s do this.

Something about Piero just screamed to me boy king, and that’s just my style. It was in the way he put himself above other children, his pride and his ego. He was born to be something and, in his youth, before he knew of his parents’ empire, before they told him who he was meant to be, he was searching for it. He couldn’t find in it eager kiddy games, he couldn’t find it in chit chat or childhood experiences. But there was something that rushed through him when he saw them stumble, he found satisfaction in figuring things out ages before them. It was in feeling better than them, feeling stronger and superior, and — simply, just being better. He had no time for laughter, for foolishness. What was the point of that, if not to waste time ? ( He was a mean boy, but his parents never pushed him not to be. If he caused another to bleed, it was their fault for not defending themselves. If his whispers of cruel words caused them to weep, they needed to strengthen their mental fortitude. No fault was to be found in Piero ).

I also want to pinpoint there’s something about Piero that also reads naivety to me. He considers himself wise and intelligent, and to some point I do agree ( books and tutors can teach, and they do ) but there are other notions that bring out his youth. It’s in his eavesdropping on his parents — yes, he was young when it happened, but still someone wiser would have understood that some secrets are such for a reason. Instead, he lusted for the unknown, something bigger than himself ( this — as well, is something I’d like to focus on, but I’ll come back to this later. ) and he found himself frenzied until he was finally privy to the family secrets. I see him as being inexperienced, someone who doesn’t have quite the worldliness as someone twice his age or even someone who had to struggle for basic needs during their childhood.

( Also, there is the fact his parents groomed him as being special. He never earned the title, instead it was bequeathed unto him from the very start. His parents claimed he walked younger than most, talked younger than most. He excelled in classes, he excelled in his physical ability. Again and again, his parents claimed him remarkable. I think, amongst the Veronesi, it might be time for him to realize that maybe he isn’t more than his name. This probably should go under plotting but I’m imagining him seeing others with skills he was never taught, maybe those his mother would have considered barbaric and uncouth. Piero wouldn’t see that, though. He would see force and deadly talent and he would see the areas in which he holds deficits. Also, just the ability and skill that comes with time and practice beyond natural talent. I keep reminding myself that, although a little bit weary with a lot of trauma, Piero is still nineteen. I used to think that was so old and so mature, but he’s barely more than a kid. Fun Science Fact: brains aren’t developed fully until their mid-20s !!! Some studies suggest early 30s !!!! Piero hasn’t even reached 20s !!!! He’s still baby !!!!! He’s going to make mistakes and learn and he might be reluctant and angry to do ( please see trauma re: parent death and assassination attempts ) so but he’s gonna do it to better himself which is what he wants to do !!! )

Piero learned so much from his parents, from tutors and teachers alike, but there is something more about experiencing things for himself and not just from the words of others and that’s where his youth shows. The first time he fought, really fought, not for practice or for fun ( something about him just coded him as a bully in my mind, one who’d pick a fight with someone who, one, would fight back, and, two, someone he would definitely beat, but I digress ), in my mind, was when Tiberius came to kill him. There was a fight or flight reaction and he was proud and cocky and pumped up on adrenaline because — this — this was what it was all for. He fought with a flurry of fists, frenzied, wild. In that moment, he knew this for certain: Ruizes were powerful and forceful and they would not flee. If he died right then, so be it, but he wouldn’t have looked death in the face and accepted it.

Okay, so this has turned into a rambling character analysis, and I apologize because I said I was done rambling, and clearly not. That said, I don’t regret it. I just have so much passion and fervor for Piero and I could write a ton more. I might. Later. We’ll see.

I just can’t help but be captured by how striking he is. He’s new to Verona, new to this scene of criminal seediness because this is when he’s finally beginning to get his hands dirty, beyond the basics of opening his eyes. His parents were introducing him to this life, but they didn’t let him delve too deep. They were bringing him in slowly, and then they died. He had nothing right then, nothing but his name and its weight. That wasn’t enough, but his brutality was. When death came for him, it made a mark on Tiberius for him — maybe all of the Capulets, too — and now he’s determined to leave a stain on all of Verona, perhaps Spain and the rest of the world, too.

I originally saw him as something of a blank slate when it came to his being in Verona, but after thinking it through a tad more, he isn’t. His parents wrote his future for him with the very incident of his birth, and now he is filling in the blanks that have been left for him after their deaths. Verona — the Capulets — they are a step in his path to power. Here, he could find allies — he already has enemies — and he learned at a young age the value others could be in company. Over time, maybe they will see that he is someone with a bright future, someone who should be watched carefully because blink and you’ll miss his grab for something better.

He should not be overlooked and that is something I think people might do. Sure, his family had a reputation, one that might cause some pause, but they might think he isn’t them. He is young and inexperienced, but there’s a chip on his shoulder and in his mouth is a taste for blood. He won’t go down quietly or without a fight. He is watching and waiting for chance and opportunity. He’ll prove any doubter wrong, he’s sure of it with all the self-confidence and egotism a princeling could have.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

1. Emotional Motion Sickness: Something that struck me about Piero is how he once wore his emotions on his sleeve. He fought for his life, fueled by loss and grief. He has a practiced void in his eyes and locked tears away. In my mind, this is not him, it is not in his nature. He was the sort to be fueled by idle amusements, wanting satisfaction, his eagerness knowing no bounds. He feels, and he feels immensely. It could be said it’s what he does best. But now? He is quiet, showing little. It’s vacant and a little numbing, and the void in his eyes is cold and distant. What his cards are and what he intends to play are known to him and him only. I can’t help but think that maybe, one day, he is going to break, the facade dropping, eyes blazing. Anyone caught in the crossfire surely would regret their taunts and jeers.

1. I just have this vision of him snapping. It would take a lot — honestly, a lot — because he’s created this solid version of himself, almost patient, somewhat mostly obedient ( I do imagine he chafes under rules a little — more than a little bit actually, but he bites it back time and time again ) but unfeeling. Jibs and jabs don’t get to him. They seemingly roll off of his back. I have to say that isn’t the case. He’s proud and he can only take so many insults. If — actually, when — he breaks, it’s going to have been a long time coming. The facade will start to break, cracks showing in the twitch of his fingers, the tension in his jaw. Maybe it will earn him respect from those around him when he snaps and demands more for him — he’s more than just the last of the Ruizes, living off of the faded glory of their name, and he’ll be damned if he’s not allowed to show it — but maybe it will only be a reminder that he was a loose end, and he was meant to be dead to begin with.

2. Who Am I? You Decide: He comes to Verona and what’s most obvious is that he has offered himself wholly to the Capulets. It’s not what his parents did — they were owed power for their allyship while Piero is now owed nothing. At the beginning, he is dutiful and obedient. He’s got nothing to lose but he has everything to gain here. He has to prove himself, really it’s his main goal. To do this, he finally understands words his parents told him so many years ago. Detener la marea y esperarar al momento adecuado: Hold back the tide and wait for the right time. He’s trying to listen and be quiet and wait and watch, but he’s never known patience well. He acted and reacted in his youth — power and privilege granted that ability — and this restraint is taking a lot of effort.

1. The facade crumbles and falls slowly, piece by piece. It starts with remarks and quips that are a touch too dry and that have too jagged an edge to people who don’t matter. It then escalates. He tries to manipulate situations where he sees a chance to take hold. He bites when he should be muzzled ; he acts of his own accord. I have no doubt that his own desires and whims to take action will get him in trouble. He is a wicked boy and always has been, soul stained black by birthright and only darkened with time. He found thrill in other people getting hurt, whether by his hand or not. He found glee in twisting his words to twist knives in others’ hearts. Maybe he learned it from watching his parents — they were by no means good people — but maybe it was part nurture, part nature. It was fate to be bad, or at the very least unkind.

2. His true nature shows in these ways: he speaks when he shouldn’t, he becomes too comfortable around Tiberius, a man who is like a friend and a brother, but ultimately was the man who was meant to kill him. It shows in his interactions with Vivianne, charm oozing, frenetic words of grandeur and idyllic plans slipping from his lips in eager commentaries about Verona and Spain and the whole world further. He speaks to them as if they are not his betters — as if he is more than even an equal — and soon it is not only them. It will become everyone.

3. Throwing Rocks Around Your Room: Everything in his life has been destroyed or taken from him in irreparable ways. This new life, this new existence, a part of him wonders how long it will last ( there is, of course, a certainty that this has to last. It’s this life in the mobs, or death. No middle, no escape. All or nothing. Black or white ). He seems so neutral, so unmoveable, but his head is a wrecking ball. He thinks of ways to destroy not only himself but all those around him. A part of him thinks the Capulets are to blame for the ruination of his family and their name — exceedingly childish, for sure — but he wonders what it would be like to see them crumble, perhaps making a martyr of himself in the process. The one flaw to this is that he does not want to die. For what use was him surviving this long if it comes not to a head ? He needs to make a mark. He needs to be known not just by a few Capulets and other Veronesi — but by everyone. He wants parents to shiver when their babes utter his name. He wants his name in history books, imprinted on pages that will survive longer than their maker.

1. Destruction has followed Piero. At first, it was only others, starting with children who crossed him, and then it turned to the enemies of his family. He did well when it was his hand casting the stone. And then, it turned on him. His family’s empire turned from masterpiece to rubble. Another turn took and his family was whittled down to one. The idea of erupting and destroying who he thinks hurt him ? Somewhat appealing. But he can’t do it. He wants more. He’s hungry to become bigger than he is. I want him to find a way to do it ( and while he’d consider acting Brutus within the Capulets, his own pride and ambition would be champ at the bit, rendering him unable ) or at least consider his options. He’s restless as part of the Capulets. He feels like they are keeping him down, not letting him be enough.

4. I Don’t Have a Fancy Title for This One I’m Sorry: When it comes to Tiberius, Piero wants to impress him, to prove him right, that sparing him was the right choice. But at the same time, bitterness remains and finds itself seeping into his blood, the feeling intensifying, every time Piero finds himself being held back by the scruff. With his … befriending ( that isn’t the right word, and it doesn’t convey what I want to say ? Admiring ? Infatuation — not romantically, of course ) of Vivianne, he wonders if impressing her over Tiberius is the way to go. He considers ignoring Tiberius, going off on his own and making his own choices. Maybe that’s what he needs to do to shake off the status of initiate, to become a soldier.

1. tl;dr: Eventually, if Tiberius doesn’t let Piero have a little more responsibility and things to do, he’ll find someone else who will grant him that.

Current State of Being

→ Piero is trying to stay in line, keep quiet, and do what’s asked of him. But he’s antsy and he’s simmering. There’s so much he has to say ; he’s so not used to being at the bottom of the pecking order. It’s not going to last. He’s got a lot to say, he wants to do things. Sooner or later, he’s going to stop waiting for permission ( and, in turn, he’ll beg for forgiveness if need-be )

Character Goals

→ Have Piero use his voice. He stops listening to the jeers and taunts of everyone who thinks they know all there is to know about them, and he tells them off. He’s no longer silent and maybe people will look at him in a different light. Or maybe he gets in trouble. Either way would further. I’m leaning towards having him react and get angry, raising his voice in a way he shouldn’t.

→ His true nature shows. Wicked is as wicked does. He gets comfortable in Verona. He acts on instinct, he lashes out. Maybe someone gets hurt — maybe it’s him, maybe not. He starts to abuse his ability to talk to people, twisting words and twisting hearts and feelings. Manipulation is in his blood. He acts out, he steps out of line and does something for people to see him as more than just a little initiate in the Capulet’s gang.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |

Don’t kill baby jk do it i dare you

IN DEPTH

( i’m replying to some of the questions & i did a para sample )

What is your favorite place in Verona?

He gets lost more often than he’d like. He wanders down streets he’s never gone down and through alleys with unknown endings. A part of him would be delighted if it wasn’t overtaken by the idea that he needed to know these streets better than he did. There was no time to be idle, no time to do anything with purpose. Most of the Capulets, surely the Montagues, knew this city like the back of their hands.

He wanted to know it better than they did, better than those naturally Verona-born. It was more than a want, it was a need that burned within him.

Still, the streets were beautiful.

It was different than home, than Spain. There, his family had resided just outside one of its largest city. From his room, he could hear the sounds of cars whizzing by on nearby highways. If he didn’t close the curtains, he would be bombarded with the lights of the city, no stars to be seen.

Here, despite its age and all of its magnitudes, Verona seemed infinitely smaller to him. He was refusing to allow himself to like it, to find a home.

It’s a long time before he finally answers the question, and his response can hardly be considered an answer. He only gives a shrug of his shoulders, absent, vague, and his gaze turns towards the window. His eyes are dead and shark-like as people pass by.

That’s not an answer, Piero.

He sighs, a loud and exasperated sound. There’s another pause on his part, this one longer and emphasized by his ability to not look at the asker once. This person — the soldato — means nothing to him. He’s sure they’ve already passed their prime. They’re as likely to ascend further as he is to fall flat — which is to say unlikely. And because of this, he cares little for them. He waits to say something poised and clever until perfect ears are listening.

Finally, there comes an answer, the barest bones of respect he’ll give, one with a little more substance to it. That doesn’t mean his voice has an affect that is more than flat. It doesn’t mean he seems to care. “ There’s a little flower shop that I can see from the window of my flat. I’ve never — “ his nose wrinkles at the thought “ — I’ve never bought anything from it, but it reminds me of when I was living another life. ”

It reminds him of the day his parents died and he was left standing alone to face their destruction, his shoes sticking to the hardwood floors as blood dried on their soles.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“ Ambition is my folly. ”

It’s said lightly, airily, as if it doesn’t matter. Look closer, see how the muscle clenches in his cheek, how there’s a sparkle momentarily flashing in his eyes before it fades to dullness. He wants to do something that has weight ( — like the heft of a gun in his hand, the feeling of his body atop another’s as his fists bear down ) and yet he is relegated to simple tasks only. He feels like a page, or perhaps worse, a pawn, unimportant and oh-so-easily replaceable.

Maybe his mistake has been living.

It shouldn’t seem like that.

But he hates being an underling. He hates being told what to do and when to do it. His life is now dictated by another, not even a Ruiz. When it was his parents instructing him, it felt different, less like someone was making all of his choices for him and more like — more like he mattered ? There is no need to convince himself that he did matter to his parents — he was next in line, preened and primed, being readied to take the throne his family had been sitting on for generations — because he knows it’s true. Here ? One wrong move can cost everything.

Perhaps he should have allowed himself to have been martyred, killed in cold blood despite fighting to prevent it. He would have been the last of the Ruizes ; they’d have been remembered for not going down easily. Now ? He thinks a wrong glance cast could mean his throat will be slit.

You don’t seem so ambitious to me.

He supposes most won't have seen it. Tiberius knows — Tiberius has heard him ask over and over for something to do, something bigger and better, with meaning, and so has Vivianne, he would be remiss to forget her — but everyone else ? He doesn’t suppose it’s important enough information for his sponsor to pass along that he wants to do more, so he rationalizes that most think he’s just a good little soldier-to-be, keeping his head down and toes in line. It’s not time for people to fear him, not just yet. That time will come.

“ Then maybe my biggest mistake was that lie. ”

Para Sample

He has been being followed for sometime now. It is always a shadow in the periphery of his vision, disappearing when he turns to see, a jacket billowing behind someone who had just walked out of frame. Piero wonders if this should make him nervous. He’s considered it, the idea that someone must want him dead to end the Ruiz family once and for all. They came for his parents, now it’s his turn. It’s a horrifying thought at first light, but there is something dangerously satisfying to him within it, at the idea of someone considering him that necessary to end. Perhaps it’s dark and twisted, but not all boys born to wear a crown come out golden.

Nearly a week passes, and by now he’s on edge. Every knock on the door of the shitty motel he’s staying in, every blow of wind against the glass windows, sets him on edge. There are purple circles under his eyes, dark as can be. He hasn’t been sleeping well. He tosses and turns, his deepest worries allowed to fester and grow in unguarded dreams, until he wakes unrested. He can’t go on like this much longer. He’s wondered if it’s worth it to flee Spain, to call on distant relatives, begging on bent knees for salvation and charity. His own pride sets him straight. Cowardice is not an option. Ruiz blood has reigned over Spain for generations. He will not be the one to bring that to an end, bringing shame to his name and the memory of his parents.

It’s just past three in the morning when he hears the turn of the doorknob. He sits up straight in the rickety armchair in the corner, his eyes adjusting to the darkened room, and he stares and he waits. He considers running. There’s a window in the bathroom, already open. He’s slender enough to squeeze through it if he really wants to, he’s given thought to it already — the doorknob rattles again, a thump echoes through the room as something hits the wood of the door — but he thinks to himself he doesn’t have the time. If he tries it, he’ll be caught halfway out. He cannot flee if it will lead inevitably to his demise. It’s embarrassing and shameful and wouldn’t do. Even in the face of death, Piero is as proud as ever.

The moments before the door cracks open, broken by the weight of another’s body, seem to last forever. He thinks of himself. He thinks of all the things he has yet to do. He thinks about his parents, their dreams and expectations for him. This becomes painfully clear: he cannot die without a fight. This is his moment. No matter the outcome, someone will remember the Ruizes. They were once noble and strong, but they didn’t allow their fire to go out so easily. It’s all he can do.

The door breaks, and he’s on his feet finally. The room is still dark but he can see motion in the darkness. He will let his attacker come to him. To tire himself out, to make all motion, seems like it’d be a mistake. Though he’s expecting it, the first hit knocks all of the air out of his lungs. Another hit lands, then another. Finally, something snaps within him. Elbows in, chin down. That’s what his mother taught him. He’s wild and frenzied, suddenly hits aren’t met with pause, and he begins throwing blow after blow, some hitting, some not. He’s all in. There is no hesitation, not anymore. It’s become apparent, right then, after this week of waiting, that perhaps another motivation is a fear of death.

It’s not an unreasonable thing. He is barely nineteen, hardly an adult, barely lived. He thinks there is so much more for him to do, to see and to experience. In his head, his mantra becomes I will not die today. Over and over, he says it to himself, despite blows hitting his body, his own strikes meeting their targets, muscles pounding against flesh.

Thoughts continue to rush through his mind. Why is he fighting ? For his parents. Why does he need to ? They’re dead. There are tears welled up in his eyes, out of pain and anger and grief. They shouldn’t be dead. They should be here. He shouldn’t be fighting. A choke sob escapes through swelling lips, but he doesn’t let himself falter. This is life or death, and he is doing everything he can to choose life.

His mouth tastes of iron and salt, but it isn’t from his own body. A fist met his lips, teeth scraped against gentle flesh, and Piero had drawn first blood. Though there were bruises forming on his own body already, though his muscles ache and scream, there is something satisfying about that. All he can do is manage to stay standing, quick on his feet, landing in jabs where he can.

The sounds in the room are heavy breathing and the noise of flesh hitting flesh. He wonders if the neighbors have been disturbed. He wonders if they care.

He isn’t sure how long has passed. He isn’t sure how much longer he can last. This fight, this rush of adrenaline coursing through him, it’s all new. Before this, it had always been fights that ended when someone hit the ground or time was up. Never had stakes been so high. A part of him is screaming for it to stop ; another wonders why this is only the first time. There’s something fulfilling in it, and maybe that’s monstrous, but Piero thinks that maybe he was born to be brutal and bloodthirsty. For so long, he had been charming and a pseudo-intellectual, clever and cunning. There had been merit to that, yes, but this ? Every fist that connects with skin sends a rush through him, a thrill like never before.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed when the man takes a step back from him, a thrown swing causing him to fall off balance. For a second, his heart leaps to his throat and he thinks this is it. But the man doesn’t take the misstep as an opportunity. Instead, he’s looking at him, interest crossing his features. Piero doesn’t let his fists fall to his side, he doesn’t know why the man has stopped, and he is too in the moment to care. He takes the chance the man doesn’t and swings, his fist meeting the man’s jaw. It lands with a satisfying thwack, but again the man doesn’t retaliate.

“ That’s enough. ”

Piero can’t help but flinch under the tone of resolve and authority, but when he looks up again, the man is still staring at him. No, he is studying. Piero can’t fathom what he can be looking for or why their fight has stopped. His body is screaming, surely if he wakes tomorrow the pain will have increased tenfold, and his most basic reaction is still fight, fight, fight.

He’s winding up his fist again but again the man speaks. “ I said, enough. ”

Piero knows when words spoken are no longer suggestions — when instead they become commands. His fists fall, his shoulders do, too. His expression turns petulant, childlike in its quick and open displeasure.

He is silent, waiting — for what ? He wonders briefly. It could be death and damnation that awaits him. A part of him, however, thinks differently. He has never been idyllic, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses with glee and a grin, but something inside him is waiting not for death’s hand to grip him.

Instead, he waits. Blood is rushing through his ears still, his pulse is throbbing. Finally, finally —

“ Sit down, boy. Let’s talk. ”

Extras:

FAST FACTS

( i looked up spanish naming customs for this and i might have gotten it right but i might not have i need to do more reading to be 100% sure but i still wanted to include it )

→ Full Name: Piero Ruiz Lorca

→ Mother: Marcella Blanca Lorca de Ruiz

→ Father: Piero Ruiz Zapatero

→ Siblings: None

→ Birthday: July 12th ; this makes him a Cancer

→ Hometown: Cordoba, Spain

→ Dominant Character Traits: harsh, ambitious, bloodthirsty, rash, driven,

HEADCANONS

001. For generations now, men wore the name Piero, his grandfather the third, Piero the fifth. There were expectations to meet, legacies to exceed. Live up to your namesake. Piero’s father was speaking of his own father at the time and, while this weight of that bore heavily down, the young boy could only think of becoming instead like his father. His grandfather died before memories of him solidified in a young child’s head, and so he only knew of him through tales and rumors. For his father, though, he watched as all stood when he walked into a room, his presence commanding respect, his reputation demanding it. While his hands were stained bloodied red, he was a beacon of light that people looked to, he captured attention easily. Once he understood, Piero craved that same state of existence. The children he grew up around, he had their attention, but in a different way. They whispered about him when his back was turned, they ducked their heads and left the room once he entered. It was a shame, really, but he was sure he would grow into his father’s shoes, filling the role the elder Ruiz did easily. For some time, he believed he was doing exactly that. And then, his parents were slaughtered, and the role he had to fill was that of a ghost. Now that he is human once more, as part of the Capulets and their crew, he feels like he once did as a child, unliked and not very seen. It’s digging at him, shoving splinters under already broken nails, causing him to grit his teeth and try a thousand times harder to earn a little bit of the damned respect he so desperately craves. It’s one of the few things that his father told him to do, this living up to his namesake. His father might be dead, rotting in the ground, with most of his words forgotten to time and space, but his spectral voice lives on in Piero’s head.

002. I have this image of Piero, maybe no older than fifteen, sixteen, at a table surrounded by compatriots of his parents. An older man, in his fifties, or perhaps, his sixties, is chewing tobacco. It’s disgusting. His gums are coated in black spit and when he smiles there are specks on his teeth. Piero cannot hide his disdain. But he’s chewing something, too. With all of his egotism, his thoughts that he is better than those before, he’s found a better option. Mint. It’s fresh and better and — the adults around him, most find him insufferable. For good reason. Anyway, it’s stupid and dumb, but god, I imagine it’s a habit he hasn’t broken. It also means mojitos are his favorite cocktail. No, I won’t elaborate on this or give any good reason for it besides please, I want it, and it’s just youthful arrogance, you know ? Before Verona, before his parents died, I feel like he had just come into himself — he felt sure and he was certain that life was grand. Era una vida tan buena. He was cocky and a little … I don’t know. Smarmy ? That’s not quite the word I want, but god, Piero was living each day as it came. Nothing could faze him. He lived under the shield of his parents and their name, of his own youth. There was privilege in that. He had seen the taste of power and luxe that his parents’ world — the one he was set to inherit once he was of age — and it delighted him. He revelled in it. He wouldn’t have to unlearn his innate cruelties, his hubris. He was a prince set to ascend, his crown was never askew.

003. As a child, he was raised not only to be smart, wisened by words of the experiences and the words in books, but to be cultured as well. His mother took him to parties with him on her arm, where his smiles never quite reached his eyes under the coos and remarks of her friends. He talked when spoken to, he never raised his voice. He could be charming when he needed to be, grins and chubby-cheeked, with words uttered that they desperately wanted to hear. He never enjoyed them, especially not when his parents would slip away into back rooms to have their own meetings. He would wait resting under the doorknob, eyes desperately seeking for some revelation under the door’s crack, ears yearning for words through the keyhole. The door would open at midnight, if not later, and he would fall into the room because of how he’d been leaning against the door. On the rainiest of days with no other plans, they would find themselves lost in museums all over the continent ( they had money, and while they didn’t quite flaunt it, they didn’t have qualms about traveling ). Beautiful things never caught his eye. They were nice, sure; but they were idle and dull and fleeting in his mind. Were his mother not guiding him ( in another life, one without bloodlust and bloodshed, she would have been a curator — a stunning one, establishing beautiful collections that many would travel to. alas, this is not our story ), he would have been lost in statues of gore, in paintings of wars and hatred. There was something about them that caught his attention and never let go. Is there beauty in being brutal ? Piero would say so.

004. The Ruiz home was decorated with exorbitant quantities of flowers while Piero lived there with his parents — why wouldn’t it be that way ? Their front for their operations was a massive floral establishment, it was only fitting for their home to be decorated accordingly. As a child, he loved their scent filling the halls and rooms — roses and lilies and all sorts of magnificent blooms. They were pretty and they weren’t long-lasting, but they were always something that represented his family, and he would be remiss to say a part of him wasn’t fond of them. However, from the day his parents died, all he can remember besides their shouts in frantic Spanish is the scent of blood and flowers. Now, any breath of anything floral makes him gag. It’s unfortunate.

005. The first time he held a gun — the first time he did so with meaning, it loaded, intended to be used against another — he was fourteen. He followed behind his mother, into a meeting with a man who owed the Capulets money. She knew he was unlikely to run or cause a fuss ( he had pride and character, his mother told him, and though he had wronged them, only a coward would have fled or refused his fate ) and thought it perfect for Piero’s first attendance. He stood behind his mother, just beside her shoulder, and listened as she talked. He stood on the balls of his feet, eager and ready for his chance to do something — anything. It never came, much to his disappointment. His mother said everything she needed to. She demanded payment. The man refused, citing he couldn’t. His mother nodded, then she fired one shot into the middle of his head. They left quickly after that, someone would be coming to clean up the mess, and the weight of Piero’s gun felt heavy in his hands having gone unfired.

006. He has nightmares. Nobody knows — he refuses to tell anyone for fear of it being seen as weakness or a vulnerability — but surviving two assassination attempts ? It should come as no surprise that it’s affected his psyche. But there are nights, more often than he’d like, that he wakes up, thrashing, sweat-coated legs and arms tangled up in bedsheets, and his heart is beating in frantic panic. It takes a moment for Piero to realize that his life is in no danger ( at least, not at that specific point in time ) and then he lets his head fall back to the pillow. The days after, he finds himself more on edge than normal, dark-circled eyes narrowed and angry.

PINTEREST BOARD

Rambly Bits That Didn’t Fit Anywhere Nicely But Still Provide Notion Of Character And I Didn’t Want To Delete Permanently For Fear Of Regretting That Decision Later

2. His parents were not good people. They never had hope of cleaning the blood off of their hands and fingers, but they never had desire to burn them clean. At his birth, he was blessed by aunts and uncles in hopes he’d have a fraction of his parents’ abilities — their cruelty, their decisiveness, their skill with gun and blade. He grew up in a home that never knew weak submission ; it was eat or be eaten, and he learned that quickly. He watched friends of his parents cry for mercy after failures — ones he didn’t understand in the moment, not until years later, when he crept downstairs in the midnight hours to watch their meetings through stair railings — and he watched as they were met with slaps to cheeks and sometimes worse. He was too young to understand the permanence of death, but he understood that a hole in a man’s temple meant he was never getting up. He saw the cool poise his father wore as he held a smoking gun — he imagined himself, older, in the same position. He echoed the steely edges his parents’ voices took ; he repeated the words they said that meant nothing to him until his cadence and tone matched theirs.

3. His parents praised him while he was in school when teachers and tutors reported that he was harsh in the face of sadness or whining and unable to handle the wrong answers of others. It only worsened ( bettered ? ) as he grew older. His harshness seemed less precocious and began to unsettle others. Tutors and teachers began to dislike being in the same room as him. He wore a smile that said let me do as I please and his temper echoed I mean it. He asked them questions about things they didn’t know, baiting them with their insufficiencies until they had no other option but to quit. His parents would only hire someone new with no question. No one was spared. He asked personal and probing questions until they shifted in their seats. He was like a needle under their skin, sharp and uncomfortable. )

4. Being a part of something bigger than himself. Isn’t that what a king does — or in Piero’s case, a princeling ? They are a large part of their kingdom, surely, and, though they might be its head, it cannot exist without its body. There needs to be support. When he was young, being a god amongst the other children wasn’t enough. He wanted something more. He wanted to be something more. He knew his parents did something that made them special, and their dis-including him ( for whatever reason it could be, he wondered night after night, staring up at the stucco ceiling, sleepless and agonizing ) just wouldn’t work for him. He needed to be involved, he needed to know. His knowing parts of their secrets, the whispers he overhead, was enough to build up his patience until it came to know more.

5. He has his eyes set on the crown his family once wore ; he was born and bred into a vicious line.

6. It’s a game of chess. Where once he was perhaps a knight or a bishop aside his parents’ queenhood, someone who could advise and assist, he feels now hardly more than a pawn. There are others in charge and he acts in their stead to do their bidding. He knows it’s what he must do. He must build his power back up, but gods above, the wait is agonizing. He wants to feel the rush of adrenaline that power brings surge through him again. He wants to make his own choices and decisions.

7. His peers had it worse. Unlike teachers whose authority he undermined, he knew he was better and above his cohort — a king amongst sheep. He ruled conversations even when no word slipped from his mouth. They needed to entertain him or he’d find another way to spend his time. ( A brief interlude: his “ friends ” didn’t like him but were scared of telling him no — also, they were most likely the children of his parents’ friends and associates, so there was need to make good with Piero. ) He’d pit them against each other with lies and rumors he’d overheard or made up. It was interesting to see them scramble, like ants under a magnifying glass. So long as he was amused, where was the harm ?

#accepted #accepted: pompey

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businessbusy-love · 4 years

Text

Reason why you need to manufacture your products yourself

we're going to discuss why you need to manufacture your products yourself now I know I've been talking a lot about manufacturing in the previous videos any advantages of how much money you can make by yourself and that you don't need anybody else in this day and age but Want to go into a little detail here so let's say you do have a simple plastic product that you want to make you don't make it yourself what you do is you design it yourself and then you farm out all the injection molding processes you're not going to bring in some giant injection molding machine to get start edit's a waste of time you don't have the space. You have to know the business current affairs to be success.

Those machinesare really expensive they take a lot of skill to run you need to make the moldsand it goes on and on and on the electric bill the employees you don'twant all that you're an inventor looking to make good money in the simplest waypossible I call people lazy for coming up with their ideas and then not doingaging with them other than trying to sell them to other people but the reality of it is we also don't want to work too hard either we want to work efficiently for the maximum amount of money and we do that by manufacturingthem ourselves think about this even a 30 $40 item through business news.

If you can make $10 on eachitem after you've shipped it out the door to your distributor reseller oreven retail imagine how much money you can make simply just selling you know to300 units to 300 units at a $10 profit each is two to three thousand dollarsfor very little effort if all you're doing is slapping labels on and you needa bedroom or a basement or a garage somewhere just to store a few of them asthey arrive from whoever's manufacturing them for you this is a win win it shouldbe a dream come true for you guys.

It's the way I started when I first started Iwas making a hundred pieces out of aluminum at a time I had a bunch oflittle aluminum parts I would have a made at the machine shop take them overto the anodized pick him up from there bring him homeand my wife and I would sit at a table in my garage and we'd put them togetherit really it was just a weekend and part time job but here's a thing about whenyou price your products correctly now those products of mine were sellingfor two three four hundred dollars apiecethey took me about 10 15 minutes to assemble but I was doubling triplingquadrupling what it was actually costing me to make them so when I was sellingthem at a few hundred dollars and only selling twenty thirty of them a week Iwas making thousands of dollars I mean literally out the gate.

I started makingfifty a hundred thousand dollars with my first it was one product that I didn'tspun off to two products to raise the revenue a little bit more that went tothree then went to four five six products and then that was it and I didthat for god I think five six seven years by the time I was done with thatsimple product that only cost me a few thousand dollars for that initial run ofa hundred pieces I made close to a million dollars in the life of that oneseries of product that was it that was a five year run and a million dollars overfive years is pretty darn good when you consider.

I was working fulltime in the movie industry and then coming home and just doing that as aside thing instead of watching TV those products they took me two days to makein my garage the original prototypes and then a fewhours to drill out the parts and also go over to the machine shop and talk withthem but once the machine shop had it in her hands they did all the workit was easy it was just me picking up the parts when they were done takingthem to the anodized ER waiting a few days getting the colored parts back andyou've seen anodizing in the previous videos I talked about it but you cangoogle it or look here on YouTube if you're not sure what I mean it's ahardening colouring process that they use onaluminum and some other materials it's actually a ceramic coating which isinteresting in fact aluminum becomes non conductive after you anodized it whichis really interesting because of the coating it's a process that you justdrop the parts off you wait you wait for them to be done you pick them up youtake everything home you buy your screws whatever else you need you keep them inbags on a shelf and you assemble them as you go it's kind of a no-brainer but nowyou can control your destiny with your products and here's the other thing weneed to talk about this.

And I'm not gonna go just pro-america here I'm gonnatalk about America and I'm gonna talk about Europe and I'm even gonna talk tomy Indian friends because I seem to have a lot of like 5% of the people on hereare from India and I know they're coming from croire and that's one of the othervideos that I showed you on how you can use Quora to attract video views so Iknow that about 5% is Indian you guys have the opportunity in India with allyour little manufacturing facilities around you to make anything you wantcheaply and then put them on eBay and sell them worldwide and then us inAmerica forget about what they have available to them we have everythingavailable to us in every state I will be surprised if you guys in any state inthe United States cannot find a machine shop and an anodized er I guarantee youcan find both and if you need screws and all that other stuff you order it onlineit's you know that everything's right there it comes in the mail here.

If Iorder from McMaster Claire in the morning my screws are here within fourhours so you have no excuse in America everything is available to you in aninstant it's really convenient and great for you to grow your business now allyou need is a small space in your apartment or house realistically couldbe a closet I mean my wife you know she didn't mind the garage but as thebusiness started to grow it took over the house so she would complain aboutthat but so I did have to move beyond thehouse pretty quickly but it was easy for years just to stock boxes on the shelvesand ship them after about five years of doing that I was looking for the biggeryou know the bigger revenue and that's when I came up with the product attractstick the last one I was talking about was hobby camp and that's no longeraround so I really didn't mention it but track stick you can go to the websitewhen I started thinking about track stick it was a couple years after 9/11and I knew there was some concern in the world about terrorism so that's whatgave me the idea for track stick it was a product that I designed completelyhands-off when I made track stick I knew I wanted it to be big and there wereonly two ways I could do that one way would have been to invest in equipmentlike you see here but this isn't even really high speed equipment this is justfor me to do small batch runs when we're talking high speed thousands of boardsyou need much bigger pick-and-place machines and I didn't want to get intoall that I'm in California I didn't want the rent the electricity to theemployees all the insurance all the retirement expenses the medical and itgoes on and on and on I was young I was like got 32 years old.

I wanted to stillbe able to have fun travel the world it's what you want to do it's up to youif you want that responsibility I know a lot of guys that just drive off of thatI didn't want that I didn't want the risk of going out of business I didn'twant the risk of not being able to pay the rent those types of things but Icould tell you one thing I learned if you do it you will figure out a way topay the bills no matter how much more they are than the bills you have nowit's an amazing thing I've been saying I'm worried about the rent or themortgages or all the other costs for 20 years now I haven't gone bankrupt yetin fact I've done quite well I may not have you know the huge facilities likeyou see on some of these youtube channels with the manufacturing but mostof them aren't in California where real estate is really expensive and there area few like one of the guys I love is Titan C&C look him up he talks aboutmanufacturing in in America I could not take the pressureof his responsibilities he's actually talked about how he's going bankrupt afew time his credit is bad he's nearly lost his businesses I I would I wouldlose my hair that.

I love it would all turn gray first and that's not what I'mlooking to do it's up to you if you have the money if you have the balls to beable to put up with that go for it I don't have it and I'm not ashamed toadmit that I don't have that kind of risk taking ability I tend to just do itlittle baby steps at the time and as I make profits pay my taxes that's anotherthing when you make money taxes are coming so don't forget that I can't tellyou how many Kickstarter projects I've seen go under not because they didn'tship a product but because of the taxes you and you're an inventor you're abusinessman too this is another thing we will talk about it in the future but notonly are there responsibilities for bills the taxes can be hugeand in California believe me they come knocking they come looking for youso you need to think about that that as you become successful you are a targetfor the taxman so prepare for it and these are the realities of manufacturingand it's really not manufacturing we're talking about in most cases here we'retalking about micro manufacturing we're talking about 100 200 500 pieces at atime we're talking about not big investments for you guys I know theprices if you do all aluminum products if you do injection molded parts you canmany times get in depending on your product to three to five thousanddollars at the most for your first product I think that's a good risktolerance and then as you grow you take on a little more maybe a fifteenthousand dollar product here's another hint so my most successful products andthis has been pretty consistent I have products that have cost meanywhere from $2,000 to make up to a quarter of a millionand I will tell you a little secret my most successful products this is true mymost successful products have cost me anywhere from $3,000 to $10,000 to makenow I have made hundreds of thousands of dollars in mistakes along the way takingthose $3,000 products to market I don't have to make those mistakes anymore butI did in the beginning I mean my track stick technically cost me less than$10,000 to invent but I blew twenty thousand dollars of my own money makingmy first mold that was useless because I wound up hiring people that had nevermade molds before and they were like two thousand miles away and here's thekicker so I blew twenty thousand dollars on that mold and I was so upset about itand I started googling there was a mold maker within walking distance of myhouse in California then.

I wound up hiring and I think he did my first moldit was about 15,000 I told him I went broke for 20 grand could he please makemy next fold for 15 and I promised that I would give him more business which Idid I made about 10 molds with the guy it was just incredible the learningexperience and how much I could have saved if I knew ahead of time but that'slife and that's why we talked about you need to get out there and you need tostart talking to these people and learning the processes so you don't makethe same mistakes that I made in the beginning and if you are learningsomething from these videos I hope you're subscribing you're leavingcomments below you're giving me a thumbs up because I want to help I also want togrow this channel and you know I want to be here for you guys because it'sexciting as you guys are making things and talking to me it really encouragesme to keep going even when I have such a low view countright now thanks to YouTube and its new algorithms but we'll getthat if you just keep on leaving me comments so that I know were punchingthrough the slow views I don't care how many people are viewing this what I careabout is that the ones that are viewing this channel are learning something andimplementing it that's what you need to do because if you just start doing somemicro manufacturing invest a few thousand maybe and I know this in Indiayou guys are probably investing a few hundred the equivalent of a few hundreddollars with your friends and they're making you product so anybody can dothis in America it's gonna cost us a little more because we do have differentlaws and restrictions that don't allow us to be that cheap Europe the same wayEurope's going to be a little more expensive for manufacturing than inAmerica and definitely more than it's gonna cost in Asia but it doesn't matterit depends on what your interests are where you want to make your productswhat your commitment is I am like 100 percent make it in America butunfortunately in California because of all the environmental laws and all theother restrictions most of the time I get prices that are three times the costof what they are to make in Asia so you know if they can't compete you can'tjust say oh okay.

I'll pay three times more that three timesrepresents the entire cost of my product which means that they've raised theprice by three times at the same C shops my retail is going to double my cost tothe distributors is probably going to triple I'm gonna price myself right outof the market so when it comes to manufacturing you'regonna have to pick all different places if you know something's cheap to makearound the corner do it around the corner don't send it to Asia you know doit locally but at the same time if you're good if you have a part that'smachined and let's say it'll cost you 75 dollars to make in the US but China willsell to you for $30 a piece in a quantity of 100 where do you think youhave to go you're going to have to go to Asia toChina and I'm going to mention Titan C&C again because I'm watching his videosthis guy gets me pumped up I mean he's different he's differentjust like I'm different big guy big strong guy I'll put a link down belowand he he's a genius I know a genius when I see one this guy's so smart andthe way he looks he may not even realize how smart he is because he talks aboutmachining like I've never heard it talked about before and I know machinisthe has beautiful shops Titan C&C has shops that you could eat off the floorseverything is pristine when I look at his machines they shine there's no chipsthere's no oil they're beautiful and it's not because he's not using them andthey're brand new this guy loves what he's doing and he's pumping me upbecause I gotta say he's making stuff in the US I'm saying make stuff in the USwe're both doing it and you can too and if you're in Asia make it in Asia ifyou're in Europe make it in Europe make your commitment to the people around youthat's all that's important it's not about nationalism it's aboutmanufacturing because manufacturing is what made America great we all need tomanufacture if we want to see our countries do well so look at Titan andwhat he says the only way that America is going to compete in the world is ifthe machines make the parts quicker we already know that especially inCalifornia labor is expensive and the liability that goes with itit is prohibitive for companies.

it does create a burden for companies so what hesays is you hire less people but you make the machines run quicker you buynewer machines you program so they're fastyou make efficient ways to manufacture so you can get more product out the doornow I should listen to this advice because the stuff that I run on thesemachines many times gets back ordered by days by weeks it's frustrating for mebecause I can never predict the amount of sales that I'm going to get and nomatter what I put on the Shelf it seems to sell out so you can actually and thisis a weird thing about business even though my profits on purpose are high Ican actually put myself out of business by making too much product yes I knowthat people are going to buy it but at what cost to me in terms of stocking iton the shelves Titan talked about this too we're a company said we need to stopour orders but he kept going and these were expensive millions of dollars inparts it was actually a hundred million dollar contract you can look at hisvideo he just said you know what they're gonna come back and they're gonna ordermore so I'll just start keep making them for weeks maybe months he went on and hemade all these parts they never came back for them so when you do this yougot to watch how many you put on yourself manufacturing is a game youjuggle how many do I make versus how many I think are going to sell not howmany are actually selling because remember there's a delay after orderparts from Asia I order parts from down the street they all take time to come inthen there's processes like anodizing painting whatever processes you add tothat they all take time and god forbid one of those manufacturers get busybecause then the time that you normally get them in becomes longer so when itcomes to manufacturing start thinking of a plan because that's how you're gonnamake your money you.

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