#even though he's looking directly at the camera (and at you) he is looking past you. he has a thousand yard stare already | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atomicami · 7 months

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special snapshot

tattoo artist!abby anderson x fem!reader

- summary: you decide to tease abby before she meets an important client at her shop by sneaking in a special photograph of yourself. once she finds it during her shift at work, she decides to have a private photo session with you in the bedroom.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, vegas living, established relationship, a bad australian impression (sorry aussies ily), lots of picture taking, strap usage (r!receiving), possessive dom!abby, submissive headspace (r), abby’s custom strap (if ykyk), abby refers to her strap as her cock, use of nicknames towards reader (angel, princess, sweet girl etc), edging, overuse of the words ‘inked’ and ‘tatted’ bc i can’t think of anything else

- author’s note: the wait is finally over, you asked and i delivered. here is my first tattoo artist!abby one shot! this is the first idea that came to my mind at the time, but i might make more of these if y’all like this one.

if you’re new to my page and haven’t seen my original post about tattoo artist!abby, you can find that here. a lot of references i’ve made in this fic come directly from my hc post.

also, i have a masterlist now so y’all can easily find my fics and see what i’m currently working on :)

- middle pic creds to @abbystanaccount

“Come on, come on…hurry up already…”

You were pacing around the bathroom floor, impatiently waiting as the image below you still appeared white. Your girlfriend was running late for work right now because she’d spent the past 10 minutes endlessly searching throughout her apartment for something that was currently in your possession.

“Babe! I still can’t find it! Are you sure you haven’t seen my camera anywhere?”

Abby’s looked around every single area in her apartment so many times that she’s lost count. Every single area except the four walls that surround you right now. Her Polaroid camera was there, sitting on the bathroom counter in front of you, right next to a photograph that was still waiting to develop.

You grabbed the photograph and began to shake it again before setting it back down. After a couple more attempts, it finally began to develop. You smiled as you picked up the photograph, shaking it one last time for good measure before seeing the fully developed image you took of yourself. The plan you had come up with today was sinister, and you were all in for it.

“Babe! Have you checked for it in my room again?”

Abby’s footsteps were approaching the bedroom, causing you to quickly grab your pants from the floor and put them back on. You then grabbed the photograph and carefully placed it in your back pocket before taking the camera and leaving the en suite bathroom. By the time Abby walked in and saw you, you still had her camera in your hands.

“There it is!” She exclaimed before sighing in relief. “Where was it?”

“You left it by the window over there.” You reply, pointing over to her bedroom window with your free hand.

“Wow, you have a good eye, babe. I never would have guessed it’d be there.” She took the camera from your hands and wrapped her arms around you. This brief moment allowed you to take the developed piece of film out of your back pocket and quickly slide it into the back pocket of her dark wash jeans. Luckily, your girlfriend was too distracted about today to even notice.

“I’ve got this first-time client coming from Australia today to get a tattoo…” She began as she broke her hug from you. “He said he loves my work and wants—“ She cuts herself off as she checks the back of the camera. “Damn it, I’m out of film…” She let out a sigh once she saw the little 0 appearing in white next to the film cartridge compartment. There were no more shots left on her camera.

Well, there was one left…but you already used it.

Abby didn’t think anything of it though. She figured that she used up the last 10 shots between her past clients and her previous photo sessions with you in the bedroom. “I’ll have to pick up some film on my way to the shop, hopefully I’ll get there before my client comes in…” You watched as Abby opened up the back of the camera and took out the empty film cartridge before tossing it out and closing the compartment. She looked up and smiled at you, quickly rushing in to kiss you. “Thanks again for finding it, babe. I’ll let you know when I’m back from work, yeah?”

You nodded in response, kissing her back. “Of course babe, good luck with the client today!” Abby shot another smile back at you before leaving her room. Once you heard her keys jingle and the front door closing, you let out a breath of relief. If it weren’t for Abby being so distracted by this big client flying over halfway around the world just to get a tattoo done by her, she most definitely would have caught you a lot sooner. But luckily, she took the bait.

Now all you had to do was wait for her to find it.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅

Abby hurriedly got out of her car upon arriving at her shop. Once she entered inside, she saw her special client there talking to Nora at reception. She was super relieved to have made it in time.

“There she is!” Nora exclaimed once she saw her. “Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you.”

Abby raised an eyebrow at her as she approached the reception area. “All good things, I hope?” she said jokingly before looking over to her client. “I’m Abby, you must be Nathan?” she asked, extending a hand for him to shake it. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”

Nathan shook his head in response as he shook her hand. “It’s no worries mate, I just got in a few minutes ago.”

“Sounds good, I can get you started over here.” She brings Nathan over to her station to get himself situated. “I was working on your piece last night and came up with a few options for you to choose from.” Abby sets her things down at her desk while turning over to him and pulling her phone out of her pocket. Her back pocket. The same pocket that you slipped the photograph in less than an hour ago.

But what Abby didn’t notice was that the photograph had slipped out of her back pocket and onto the ground right behind her.

Abby didn’t notice it, but Nora sure did.

Nora was just passing by to give Abby some transfer paper when she saw the photograph lying face down on the floor. Clutching the transfer paper in her hands, she quickly copped a squat to pick it up. “Abby, you dropped one of your—oh” Nora cut her own words off once she accidentally caught a glimpse of the photo, causing Abby to turn around and face her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, um…I’m guessing this isn’t meant to go on your wall…” She replied as she handed her the photo face down, her voice quiet enough so that her client wouldn’t hear.

The blonde furrowed her brows in confusion when Nora gave her the photo. “Not on my wall? What are you—“ She flipped over the photo to take a look before quickly flipping it face down and hiding it in her palm. Now she understood what Nora meant by that.

It looks like Abby’s camera did have one shot left after all.

Abby was startled when she felt Nathan tap her shoulder, causing her to turn back around. “Everything alright?” he asked, his tone slightly curious.

“Y-Yeah, yeah everything’s fine! Just excuse me for one moment.” She briefly excused herself before speedwalking to the back of the shop and locking herself in the first room she could find. The photograph remained hidden in her palm.

Taking a deep breath, Abby lifted the photograph to take a better look. It was of you, front and center on the camera, wearing that same black skin-tight shirt she saw you in this morning. Despite the quality, Abby could tell you didn’t have a bra on because she could easily see your nipples poking through. Along with that, you were also wearing something else— a matching thong with rhinestones on the waistband. It must’ve been new because Abby had never seen you in that before.

It was taking Abby everything right now to not drop what she was doing and leave to go home and fuck you senseless. Seeing this photograph alone was already causing her boxers to dampen. But she needed to work on this client. She’s been planning on doing this piece on him for months, she can’t back out of this now.

Abby took a deep breath, giving the photograph one last look before putting it back into her pocket and turning around to exit the room. She walks back to her station and sees Nathan patiently waiting for her in the chair.

“Alright, let’s get started shall we?”

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ──⋅

You don’t hear back from Abby all day.

You figured that it could’ve been because of her special client, along with whoever else shows up to get a tattoo from her. But what really happened was that Abby decided to take the rest of the day off after finishing with her client and was waiting for you to come into her apartment.

You unlocked the door to Abby’s place with the spare key she gave you and entered inside before closing it shut behind you. To your surprise, you see Abby sitting there on the couch. She was manspreading, with one of her tatted arms perched over her knee so she could rest her chin.

“Hey babe, you’re home early…” You set your things down at the counter before walking over to her. “How did it go with the client?”

Abby lifted her head from her hands, looking up in your direction. “The client went great, actually…he loved the piece I tattooed for him.”

“That’s good, um…why are you home so early?”

You felt the need to ask her right off the bat. There was a feeling that you were getting. A sense of knowing that she found the photograph.

“No reason…just felt like taking the rest of the day off.”

You simply nod in response before slowly heading over to her bedroom. And as if you could feel her presence approaching, Abby soon followed behind you, closing the door once the two of you were inside. There was a brief moment of silence before Abby decided to speak up. “Did you think I wouldn’t find it?”

You turned around to face her. She stood there, her tatted sleeves crossed in front of her chest, with a smirk plastered on her freckled face.

She found the photograph. You know she did.

But you still decide to play dumb.

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Find what? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play silly with me now, princess….” You watched as Abby reached into her back pocket, that same back pocket you slipped the photograph in, and saw her pull it out. The delicate photograph of your body stood in between her inked fingers, fully on display in front of you.

“So much not having any shots left on my camera, right?” She said as she began to slowly step forward in your direction.

“Do you not like it…?” You ask her quietly, quickly looking down once she’s right in front of you. You start to feel like doing this to her wasn’t a good idea after all.

Abby’s expression softens for a brief moment. “Oh, baby…” she lifts your chin up with her free hand before leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek. “Of course I love it. You look so fucking sexy in this.” She looks back down at the photograph before directing her attention back at you.

“But do you remember the rule I told you about these?” She asks sternly, holding the piece of film in front of you.

You avert your gaze away from her and back to the ground. “Your eyes only…” you mutter out to her.

Abby lifts your chin back up once again to face her. “That’s right, angel. My eyes only.”

She points the photograph towards her and taps the corner gently on her chest, just a few inches above her chest piece in reference to herself.

“Mine. No one else’s.”

She slowly lets go of your chin and looks back down at the small piece of film. “You’re lucky it was only Nora who found it…if it were any of the guys, I would’ve gone insane.” She takes a closer look at the photograph, remembering the new thong you had on in the photo before looking back at you. “Are you wearing it?”

You nod.

Abby hooks an inked finger on the belt loop of your pants and gently tugs on it. “Off, princess. I want to see you just like how I saw you in this picture.”

You follow her command, bringing your hands down to the waistband of your pants and slowly unzipping them before pushing them down your thighs. Once they’re at your feet, you step out of them and take a step towards her. She then slips one of her hands under your shirt until they stop at the hem of your bra, gently tugging it down as well. “This too.”

Reaching underneath your shirt, you quickly unhook your bra, pulling the straps off of your shoulders before taking it out completely and dropping it on the ground. Abby took a step back to take in the sight of you. “My sweet girl…You look so good for me right now..” She muttered quietly. You feel her run her tatted hand through your body, starting at your hip and making its way up to one of your tits.

She looks back at the photograph for a brief moment, noticing you had one of your hands covering that same one. An idea flashed through her mind, you could tell because that same smirk was starting to appear on her face again. Her hand lets go from your breast and drops back to her side. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Abby leaves her room for a moment before quickly returning, now with her camera in her hands. “How about we recreate that pretty picture of you, hm? Would you like that?” You nod to her in response, biting your lip to hide your smile.

“Words, princess.”

You nod again, a little quicker this time. “Yes, I’d love to do that.”

Abby walks over to you and sets the photograph at the corner of her bed before turning her camera on. Once it was ready, she pointed the camera right in front of you with one hand and used her free hand to gently grab your breast, placing her thumb on top of your hardening nipple. She looked into the viewfinder, adjusting the angle and position before a quick flash went through your eyes.

The photo slowly whirs out of the camera. But Abby doesn’t even bother to check it out yet. Instead, she sets the camera to the side right next to the original photograph of you and begins to undo her jeans. “Kneel for me, princess.”

By instinct, you drop down to your knees in front of her. You already know what’s about to happen next.

As soon as the zipper of her jeans goes down you can already see it. The bulge underneath her black boxers, with a sliver of light tan with black marks peeking out of it. The thought of having that piece of silicone inside you was already making you desperate.

Once Abby’s jeans are pooling at her ankles she brings down her boxers in one swift motion, causing her strap-on to spring free right in front of you. You could already feel your mouth watering at the sight of it alone.

Abby notices your dumbfounded expression and smirks. “Look at you, princess…already drunk just by looking at my inked cock. Do you want it inside you, angel? Is that what you want?”

You look up at her and nod quickly while clenching your thighs at the same time. “Please, Abs…need it so bad….”

“I know you do, my sweet girl…” Her hand comes down to her side and gently holds your jaw, tilting your head up to look at her. “How about you get it wet for me, yeah? Get my cock ready so I can fuck that pretty pussy of yours.”

Without even thinking twice, you wrap your hands around the strap-on, your fingertips covering over some of the fake ink that was plastered on it. The tip of it was practically face-to-face with you. You position it towards your mouth before opening it wide and taking in as much as you can down your throat. The strap barely reaches halfway, so you begin to stroke whatever your mouth can’t reach with your hands while bobbing your head up and down simultaneously.

Abby keeps her gaze fixated on you, then briefly looks over at the camera that is sitting on her bed. She brings a hand down to the back of your head, slowly guiding it up and down her inked strap. “That’s it, princess, just like that…” She mutters out to you as she quickly reaches over to grab her camera off of the bed. In doing so the strap accidentally lunges itself forward down your throat, causing you to gag. You take your mouth off of Abby’s strap for a moment to take a deep breath before looking up at her, now with the camera in her hands again.

“Smile for me, princess.”

The flash of the camera passes through your vision again. Another photo whirs out of the slot.

You get back to sucking on her strap, even harder this time out of pure desperation to have it inside your walls already. Abby pulls the photo out and tosses the camera aside, beginning to quickly shake it to see the final product.

You hear her let out a quiet groan once she sees the fully developed piece of film. “God…you look so beautiful like this, angel…sucking my cock like the good girl you are.” She sets the second photograph aside and gently grabs your head again to pull your mouth off of her strap. Her strong tatted hands then grab at your waist, effortlessly picking you up and placing you down on the center of her bed.

Abby tugs down at the hem of your shirt as an indication for you to take it off. “Take this off, princess. I need to see all of you.” You oblige, taking off your shirt and tossing it to the ground. Abby does the same with her muscle tank and sports bra, exposing the rest of her patchworked body to you. At this point, the arousal in between your legs just keeps growing and growing, along with the urge to also be completely ridden of the little black piece of fabric that was pressed against your pussy right now. You bring a desperate hand down to the jeweled band of your thong to take it off, only for it to be lightly smacked by Abby’s tatted hand.

“Except this. This stays on.”

You nod in response, setting your hands aside, and letting your girlfriend do the rest of the work for you. You spread your legs open while Abby positions herself on top of you. The tip of her inked strap falls right on the damp fabric covering your crotch, causing a whimper to escape from your mouth. She then hooks a finger under the fabric and shifts it to the side, revealing your gushing wet pussy to her.

It takes a minimal amount of effort for Abby to insert the tip of her strap inside of you before pushing in the first couple of inches. “Fuck, princess…look how it's going in…you’re always taking my cock so well…”

You look down to see the piece of inked silicone connecting your bodies. With a desperate need to be filled, you bring a trembling hand down to your pussy and use two fingers to spread your folds open so Abby could keep pushing her strap inside you. Your jaw drops in pleasure as she slowly pushes in a few more inches, and the two of you still don’t take your eyes off of it, both watching as the tattoos on her fake cock slowly disappear as it makes its way into your cunt.

Abby lets out a groan once she bottoms out before tightening the harness on her strap, making sure it's pressed closely against her cunt. You feel your pussy start to clench around the strap as it sits there inside of you. Your body was practically begging for some movement to happen.

“Abby, please…I-I need you to move…” You whimper out to her, looking down at the base of her strap that was resting below your heat. Within seconds you began to feel it moving inside you. Abby starts to thrust in and out of you slowly, but that slow pace progressively turns into a rapid one.

Before you knew it, you were gripping onto the sheets to keep yourself from possibly getting slammed against the headboard, despite Abby’s firm hands holding your hips down. Your tits and thighs were bouncing and jiggling uncontrollably. Moans and whimpers were escaping from the two of you. But most importantly, Abby was hitting that special spot inside you with every single thrust.

She wasn’t stopping her pace at all…until that familiar phrase slipped from your mouth.

“Abby…I-I’m getting close…”

That’s when she stopped. That’s when she pulled her strap out of you. That’s when you snapped back to reality…for now.

You quickly shook your head as you watched her inked strap practically pull itself out of your pussy. “No….no no no no, Abby! Why would you do that?!” You whined out in protest. You let your hands go from the sheets and brought them to her hips, attempting to bring her closer to you so she could slip herself back inside of you.

Unfortunately, your attempt to do so was unsuccessful. Abby shook her head and pushed your hands off of her hips. “I’m sorry angel, but I’m not letting you cum like this. Not after that stunt you pulled today.”

You felt your body break at the possible feeling that you weren’t gonna be able to finish tonight, but you understood that you still needed to be taught a lesson.

“So…You’re not gonna let me cum at all tonight?” You mutter out to her quietly. The smirk that shows up on her face once again tells you something different.

“Oh, my sweet girl…I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to let you cum at all…” She brings a hand to your jaw and gently strokes it with her thumb. “You’re going to cum, but you’ll do it my way. All fours, princess.”

That statement alone had you flipping onto your stomach in an instant. At this point, you were willing to do anything to get a release, even if it meant having to do things her way.

Once you were on all fours, you soon felt Abby’s lips start kissing at your shoulder, slowly making its way down to your lower back. “You have no idea…how good you look for me like this…” she murmurs in between kisses. She plants some more kisses on your lower back, specifically on your tattoo that rests above the band of your thong. Your first tattoo. The one that Abby put onto your body the first day you met her. It gave Abby so much pride to see her work on you, especially in the position you’re in right now.

You feel the weight of the bed shift around for a bit and look over your shoulder to see Abby reaching for her camera again. She brings a hand to your waist to keep your back straight. “I want you to stay just like this, princess, okay?” You nod in response, resting your head on the pillow as you perk your ass farther up in front of her.

With her camera in one hand, Abby uses her other hand to shift your thong to the side again before positioning her inked strap at your tight entrance. Given how soaked you were at this point, it slides in with a lot less effort the second time around. You let out a whimper once she bottoms out, causing you to involuntarily jerk your hips at her.

As a result, Abby gives you a light smack on your ass. “Stay still, angel…I need this one to come out perfect.” She hovers the camera on top of you and looks through the viewfinder, making sure you’re perfectly centered.

You hear the flash behind you once again, followed by the whirring sound right after.

Abby sets the camera aside and places both hands at your hips, beginning to thrust into you at that same slow pace she was doing before. It didn’t take long for Abby to speed it up. Now she was back to hitting your g spot with every single thrust of her strap.

“Fuck…look at you, my sweet girl…taking my tatted cock so well..” She tells you in between her thrusts. “I bet you wish…someone could get a picture of this, hmm?”

The pleasure Abby’s giving you is so intense that you can barely decipher what she’s saying to you. She keeps talking you through it, but her voice slowly starts to fade through the blood pumping in your eardrums and the feeling of TV static filling your brain. You find yourself slowly slipping into a newfound headspace as Abby continues to pound herself into your pussy.

Regardless of how drunk you were feeling from it, you try your best to form a response to whatever she tells you.

“F-Feels s-so good, Abs…D-don’t stop…” you slur out to her.

Your entire body feels heavy right now, but you make an effort to extend one of your hands behind you and hold one of hers. You grasp onto Abby’s hand tightly as she keeps fucking you.

Abby notices and clutches your hand into hers as it remains on your hips. “Don’t worry princess, I got you, just stay with me, yeah? I promise you’ll get to—fuck—“ Abby cuts herself off, moaning at the feeling of the leather harness rubbing against the small barbell that rested above her clit. This motivates her to thrust even faster into you, now with a desire to chase her release.

As her pace gets faster, you start to get closer. Your cunt begins to repeatedly clench itself around her strap, indicating that you were going to cum. You try to tell her that you’re about to cum, but you were already getting so fucked into this headspace that you were struggling to get the words out of your mouth. As a result, you start to dig your fingers into the back of Abby’s hand to get her attention.

Abby felt your nails digging into her hand, which were already forming crescent indents on her inked skin. She looks over at you, seeing your fucked out expression with your mouth agape against the pillow and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Are you gonna cum, angel?” she asks, only receiving a slow nod followed by a few desperate gasps from you as a response. “I-fuck, I’m gonna cum too…Just let it out for me, princess, you deserve it.” While keeping one hand on your hips, she brings her free hand around your waist to rub quick circles on your throbbing clit as she continues to fuck you relentlessly.

And that’s what sends you over the edge. A string of whines and mewls escape from your mouth once you get there. You dig your nails deeper into Abby’s hand while your other hand fists the corner of the pillow. Your thighs begin to tremble, and your cunt pulses a few more times around the strap before fully coating it with your slick. Abby finishes right after you with a loud groan, completely cumming inside the harness. She keeps herself inside you for a little bit before slowly pulling out, letting out a quiet grunt at the sight of the string of slick connecting between your pussy and the tip of her strap.

Your body was completely limp at this point, and Abby could tell. She guides your lower half back down onto the bed so you’re lying down on your side. As you bring yourself back to reality, you feel the warmth of her hand stroking your jaw, leading you to slowly blink your eyes open. The first thing you see is her eyes scanning yours, making sure you were okay after your intense release.

“There she is…” she says quietly, smiling right after. “Are you okay, angel? I didn’t go too hard on you did I?”

You slowly shook your head in response, smiling back at her as you try to catch your breath. “Of course not, Abs…you felt amazing…” you pant out to her.

Abby lets out a sigh of relief before leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips before kissing your forehead. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up now, okay?”

You watch as Abby gets off of the bed and takes off her strap before slipping her boxers back on and heading into her bathroom. You hear the sound of the water running in the background, knowing that she was drawing a bath for you right now.

As the water continues to run, Abby jogs out of the bathroom and heads over to the bed to pick up all of the developed photos that were spread out on the sheets. She looks through each one of them before pulling out her wallet and storing them inside. You can’t help but let out a giggle over it. Her wallet was so full of your photos that you could easily see the thickness of it from the side.

Abby looks over to you as she closes her wallet. “What’s so funny?”

“Don’t you think you have too many pictures of me in there?”

She shakes her head in disagreement. “Nonsense. there’s no such thing as too many pictures of you.” You watch her walk over to your side and feel her lips planting another kiss on your cheek.

“Besides…they’re for my eyes only, remember?”

requested tags 🏷️: @tokkismari @onlinelesbo @elliens4 @thepurplebutterflyysblog @kindtim3

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landhinlove · 2 years

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The Don’t Worry Darling Premiere: A Summary

At the Venice Film Festival

FLORENCE BEING SO SASSY

Interviewer: “Your role is so inspiring”

Florence: “why is it inspiring?… I think it’s inspiring for a woman to say ‘no’ on and off camera”

They said she couldn’t make it to the press conference due to scheduling issues but she showed up 10 minutes after it started. The lead actress didn’t want to go to the press conference.

also these posts and the captions (Rebecca Corbin Murray is Florence’s stylist)

HARRY TAKING NOTHING SERIOUSLY

literally giggling at fans during the panel when Olivia was asked about the Shia and Florence controversy

this man did not answer a single question and he knows it (louis was spot on when he said “you do talk some shit in interviews” lmao)

Harry during the panel:

“Was that an answer? It was words.”

“what I like about acting is that I have no idea about what I’m doing”

“my favourite thing about the movie is that it feels like a movie”

During the interview with him and Chris Pine he went directly against what Olivia has said about the movie saying that it’s more misogynistic than feminist

NO ONE EXCEPT OLIVIA LOOKS LIKE THEY WANT TO BE THERE

Chris Pine is taking one for the team and being a neutral party (but still looking like he wants to leave). He was not asked many questions at all. Also he was the one to sit next to Olivia for everything

Gemma Chan was barely asked a question in the press conference and when she was she was reprimanded for being too quiet.

Harry doesn’t care at all about the panel, just talking and giggling with Gemma and the fans. He was asked the most questions of the actors and the only ones he gave a real answer for were about his fans and music

Obviously Florence doesn’t want to be there and wasn’t in the panel, but she’s also getting pushed to the side even though she’s literally the lead

REPORTERS WERE STOPPED FROM ASKING ABOUT THE SHIA AND FLORENCE THING

FLORENCE AND HARRY SLAYING WITH THE FITS

Harry giving Elton John energy with the glasses and just over all outfits. Or fruity Tony Stark.

Harry wearing a blue bandana during the press conference ;) (it’s technically a scarf but close enough)

Florence showing up in an adorable three piece purple shorts and blazer set (link)

Then she stole the show in the sparkly gown giving Marylin Monroe with the hair and diamonds

Also Gemma Chan is just one of the most gorgeous people to ever live and she slayed too of course because how could she not

Chris Pine and Nick Kroll hyped Florence up on the red carpet, taking pictures and acting like a proud dad

OLIVIA WAS IGNORED ON THE RED CARPET

Harry and Florence both went out of their way to hug everyone except Olivia, walking right past her. Neither of them talked to her, barely even looking at her

Harry stuck with talking to Gemma again, and flirting talking with Nick Kroll

When taking a picture with the whole cast, Harry’s as asked to stand next to Olivia and he refused. In this moment he also walked straight past her to fist bump Nick Kroll.

As they sat down for the movie she kept looking over trying to get Harry’s attention but he just stared straight forward or talked to Gemma

When the movie was over people only clapped for the actors, and all the actors were facing away from her and laughing with each other

Similar to Harry, Florence refused to make eye contact with Olivia when the movie audience was applauding her

HARRY AND NICK KROLL KISSED AFTER THE MOVIE. TWICE. LMAOOOOO

Olivia saw this happen and had a disgusted look on her face (link bc I can’t put any more pictures)

Edit: that not her reaction to the kiss sorry!!! Its after she was tried to get Harry’s attention and couldn’t

Also Harry and Nick 100% planned it. If you see the video they give each other a cheeky little look and go right for it. I am will to bet that Nick was like “you should just kiss me after because everyone will be expecting you to kiss her”

THE CLAPPING AFTER THE MOVIE WAS CUT SHORT BECAUSE FLORENCE LEFT

After about 3 minutes of clapping Florence started leaving and the rest of the cast followed. That’s a statement if I’ve ever seen one.

OLIVIA AND THE MOVIE ARE BEING EATEN ALIVE IN REVIEWS RIGHT NOW

(these are just a very few of the many examples)

Florence is praised for her performance, taking a bad movie and giving it her all

Harry is said to be sort of lost in the movie, not with terrible acting, just outshined by Florence’s performance. And yet it apparently still reads as a fan edit of Harry

The sex scenes that were so hyped up are supposedly very uncomfortable

So in conclusion the premiere was awkward and kind of a train wreck, as is the movie according to reviews. The actors in the movie showed up, slayed with the outfits, laughed with each other, didn’t answer a single question, not-so-subtly shaded Olivia and left.

#i was so not looking forward to everything being about Olivia today but this was leaps and bounds better than I expected #venice film festival #florence pugh #harry styles #gemma chan #chris pine #nick kroll #olivia wilde #don’t worry darling

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withleeknow · 2 months

Text

rue de rivoli.

pairing: hyunjin x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, semi edited lol, a little sappy and very self indulgent and inspired by a very specific instance in that one hyunjin vlog in japan 🤷‍♀️ word count: 0.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

hyunjin might be the worst - and you mean it, the worst - travel partner.

it’s all because of that ridiculously expensive camera of his and the little hobby that he’s taken up on.

“hey,” he calls out softly, trailing a few steps behind you as he raises the camera up to his face again. “hold it right there.”

you huff out a breath in mild annoyance, blowing some hair away from your face as the air escapes from your lips.

“seriously? you’ve taken a gazillion pictures already. this is the third time you’ve made me stop in the past thirty minutes.”

“but the lighting is just perfect.”

“we’re only here for a few days! i can’t see all the places i wanna see if you keep making me stop every two seconds!”

it was cute at first, how he kept asking you to stop in the middle of the street to snap a photo of you. it made you blush every time he did, because he would take another brief moment to admire the final product on his camera’s display screen and tell you that even though the photo turned out great, it could never truly capture how beautiful you are through his eyes. then he’d press a kiss to your cheek or a swift peck to your lips before taking your hand and tugging you along, en route to the tourist attractions that you’ve yet to come across.

to be fair, it’s still cute, and despite your feeble irritation, you still let hyunjin take his photos every time he asks. mostly because he would start sporting a gigantic pout on his face, coupled with the way his eyes widen like a puppy begging for a treat.

“please? you look so pretty right now. pleaseee?”

you acquiesce - of course you do - because who can say no to a cute whiny hyunjin?

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, and a bright grin immediately spreads on his lips because he knows that he’s getting what he wants, the smile so brilliant that it brings out his whisker dimples and turns his eyes into adorable crescent moons.

he patters over to you on light footsteps once the shot has been snapped, proudly showing you his handy work even though you secretly think it looks the same as any other photo of you that he’s taken - sometimes it’s your side profile with your hair covering half of your face because you’re too awkward to look directly at the camera, sometimes it’s you in random poses because you’re never sure what to do with your hands while getting your picture taken.

“did you even take any photos of the scenery?”

hyunjin shrugs, pretty indifferent to your question. “yeah, a few.”

“a few? give me that, let me see... you’ve taken two hundred and sixty four photos so far and only a few are of freaking paris?!”

another shrug, then cue one of the corniest things he’s ever said to you in your entire life. “you’re prettier than paris.”

sure, it’s a massively cliché thing to say, and a teeny bit cringeworthy to hear if this were a sappy romance movie. but coming from him, you know the sentiment is entirely genuine because hyunjin is nothing if not one of the sincerest people you know.

it makes you short-circuit as you stare up at him. the sun behind him softens by a fraction as it starts to make its descent, and the slowly fading sunlight looks as though it’s found a home as his personal halo. to have someone as beautiful as him tell you that you’re prettier than the city of love itself is quite honestly a little surreal, no matter how long you’ve been together.

“that was the cheesiest shit ever,” you comment, pretending to gag but knowing perfectly well that he can see the rosy flush on your cheeks. you mutter something else - for good measure - along the lines of never going on a trip with him again.

hyunjin laughs that endearing signature laugh of his, then he twists the cap back on the camera lens and once again lets the device dangle from the strap around his neck. he pulls you toward him with ease and kisses you deeply with a smile on his lips, one that’s warmer than the parisian sun could ever hope to be.

no, hyunjin isn’t a great travel partner. yes, mostly because he takes up all of your time trying to take pictures of you instead of letting you freely wander to the spots that you’d spent a lot of time bookmarking on google maps beforehand. he might be the worst person you’ve gone on a trip with because when you’re travelling, you like to be productive with your time and be able to do everything you set out to do in the limited number of days you have.

but even then, maybe it’s not that terrible having to miss watching the sunset in front of the eiffel tower because more exquisite than all of the most renowned artworks displayed in the louvre and more enchanting than any view you can spot from montmarte is your hyunjin that you adore, who’s kissing you in the middle of a street which name you can’t even pronounce.

any irritation you had from before slowly melts away. you don’t even care (that much) that you’re in the city of love.

any city is love when you’re with him.

(even when he messes up your travel plans sometimes.)

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki (italicized = can’t tag)

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #stray kids #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin

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piratefishmama · 7 months

Text

Nest | Part 13

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

It was like walking directly into a wall. The moment that door opened Steve took one step inside, and had to immediately step back again as his senses were assaulted with the scent of pain, of fear, of discomfort, and distress.

A shake of his head later in a fruitless bid to shake that painful mixture of scents from his senses, he pushed himself through it. The door closed behind him.

The vents were working overtime to clear the air, but the more they cleared, the more replaced it. Eddie was just a small bundle of negativity, of suffering, and Steve had just left him there.

He knew it wasn’t his fault, knew he wasn’t responsible, but he felt awful.

He felt awful knowing that he should have stayed. Even though he knew that he couldn’t have, he knew it was against all the rules, knew that someone would have tried to drag him out had he stayed, that it wasn’t up to him, he felt like the worst Alpha. Like a failure. He’d left his mate to suffer, he didn’t deserve to be in there, didn’t deserve Eddie’s forgiveness, didn’t deserve the right to be the one to help him through his distress.

He shook his head again, the air so thick, so full of negativity that it was dragging him down with it.

The corner, he’d seen Eddie on the cameras, one quick look around the room gave him the location of the one camera still active, the blinking red dot telling him they were being watched. “Eddie?” He followed the line of sight to the wall, the darkness of the room and the mixture of scents filling every single crevice made it difficult to see clearly.

The whine was what gave him away.

A soft, pitiful little whine from the corner semi-muffled by fabric, Steve was there within seconds, down on his knees before his bundled up Omega, the other man trembling within the thick fabric of the weighted blanket that’d already long since lost the scent Steve had meticulously rubbed over it, lost to the overwhelming scent the omega was giving off in his distress.

His eyes were dark and unfocused, blown pupils rendering them almost black, half hidden by sweat-damp hair, his breathing was shallow, skin flushed, slick with sweat “Ah—Alpha?” There was no strength to his voice, a whisper of sound amidst weakened breaths.

Steve had suffered many a heart break in his life, so many trials and errors with partners of the past, but nothing could compare to the break he felt when Eddie struggled in vain to reach out to him from within the blanket, the omega struggling to find enough strength just to lift an arm against the weight of the fabric.

Anyone else, Eddie would find the strength. If anyone else had walked into that room, Steve knew that he’d have found the strength to attack, the fact that he hadn’t yet, was enough to tell Steve, not that he couldn’t… but that he wouldn’t.

It was all the confirmation Steve needed to take action. “Alpha’s here, m’here Eddie” voice soft, he moved closer, arms curling under the weakened omega, one under his knees and the other cradling his back. At Eddie’s inquisitive little chirp, Steve pressed a kiss into the sweat-damp curls at the crown of Eddie’s head “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.” And they were up. Steve rose to his feet without strain, an action that for the briefest of moments, had desire pouring from the Omega in his arms.

He was strong, capable, he could just… pick Eddie and that blanket right up regardless of how much they weighed combined.

“Need…” Eddie breathed, head heavy against Steve’s chest “m’hot… too—too hot—hurts” could barely open his eyes, Steve could feel the warmth radiating through that blanket, he was too warm, maybe he’d have been okay if he’d have used the heat aid once but… it felt like he was burning up.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, we need to cool you down, that’s what I’m doing okay? M’gonna get you to the bathroom and we’re gonna cool you down.”

The nest was a wreck, Steve didn’t know what’d happened between when he left hours before and that moment, but the nest had suffered. Blankets were thrown, clothing had been pulled from the framework and tossed away, the shirt Steve had eventually given him was now caught on the edge of a set of drawers, thrown away.

The alpha in him mourned whatever Eddie had been thinking that made him throw it away.

Eddie didn’t verbally respond, instead he curled in on himself tighter, pressed his face closer to Steve’s chest, his breathing still shallow, still weak, he wasn’t shaking anymore.

Steve used his shoulder to turn the light on in the bathroom, it took a couple of tries to hit it just right, but once light flooded the room he was quick to get Eddie to the large bath yet gentle in how he removed the blanket once he’d managed to climb in, after lowering both himself and Eddie into the tub and shower combo.

At Eddie’s defensive groan and his attempt to keep the blanket close, Steve gently shushed him “Shhh shh, it’s okay, Omega, I’m here, you don’t need the blanket.” It was only making it worse, hotter, it didn’t even smell like Steve anymore.

Just of Eddie, of his sadness, his discomfort, his fear. He threw it over the edge of the tub, letting it land in a heavy heap on the floor.

Steve had never seen an Omega like that before. Lost to lust absolutely, an Omega at the peak of their heat was usually a stunning thing, beautiful, almost glowing in their radiance, enough to make an Alpha go wild with want, but this wasn’t that. He’d never… he’d never seen one look like that.

It was terrifying, it took all he had to not panic. Eddie had been alone for four hours, steadily getting worse and worse, what if nobody had checked on him? What would have happened if they’d have waited longer to look at those cameras?

What if they’d just left him? What if they hadn't noticed?

The omega slumped back into Steve’s arms, the fight in him lost, head back against him, his chest still rising and falling double time in an effort to breathe.

“Eddie, Imma need you to stay with me, okay? Keep your eyes open, alright?” Although out of focus, Eddie’s eyes remained open as he nodded, weak, the movement minimal but he managed. “I need to get your shirt off, can you lift your arms?” He shook his head, movement so slight if Steve had blinked, he’d have missed it. “Alright, okay, clothes on.”

It wouldn’t be fun, he knew it wouldn’t be fun, but with a little twist of his body, Steve reached up and twisted the dial on the shower, and grabbed Eddie tightly just in time for the Omega to snarl his objection when cold water rained down upon them suddenly.

Life slammed into the boy in his arms with a startled yelp, eyes suddenly wide, sharper than before yet still so very dark, he struggled, he snarled, he snapped, and scratched at the arms holding him down, scoring deep welts and bloodied tracks down Steve’s arms in an attempt to free himself from the hold to escape the cold spray that splashed over the edge of the bath soaking the floor and the blanket that’d fallen to it.

Non-verbal but violent in his struggle, Steve kept him down, held him tight though the stinging pain until the water began to warm, held on so tightly until the boy began to calm, until warmth rained upon them, not too hot, not too cold. Right in the middle, the sweet spot where warmth touched cold but didn’t quite intertwine. Soothing on a too hot summers day.

Eddie stopped struggling, slumping back against his chest once more.

The water stung against the wounds inflicted, but Steve would live. Eddie hadn’t done too much damage in his struggle. “You with me, Eddie?”

“Mnnnghh” it was stronger than before, still weak but… there was more of Eddie’s voice in it. Less breath. The water kept running, Steve hadn’t put the plug in, so it’d just drain away, but it kept running, raining comfortable summer shower-like warmth upon them. “…Steve?” Eddie turned in his place, Steve’s arms falling lax enough for him to move, albeit slowly, and with a little squeaking from the friction against the sides of the bath tub, but he could move. “Why—why are you… why are you here? You… you can’t be—can’t be here.”

Steve ever so gently lifted his hand to Eddie’s face, to tuck stray, wet curls out of his face, behind his ear. His skin was still so red, still so warm to the touch, but he was there. Steve let his hand linger when Eddie leaned into it, his whole body seeming to press closer to that morsel of contact, breath leaving him in a soft whimper, he was there…

That was the important part, his mind was mostly there, shocked back into place by the cold water, temporarily maybe, but it was enough.

“M’here for you. You weren’t okay, Eddie… why didn’t you use the aid I gave you?” The question had Eddie opening his eyes once more, although they dipped to the space between them, he sagged, his shoulders drooping, defeated.

“Didn’t—didn’t want to—to be a failure.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a bad omega…” he sniffled, then lifted his hand to rub at his nose, breath hitching as he spoke “bad at it all… nobody—nobody wants me—I didn’t wanna—wanna accept that my only option… was a stupid heat aid… I didn’t—I don’t want that.” Omega’s were sought after, alphas naturally flocked to them, courted them, fawned over them, yet Eddie had never had the attention of any alpha. Even at the bars he and his band played at, even among his own people…

Nobody wanted him.

He’d failed at the most basic part of being an Omega, being wanted. Having to use a heat aid because he had literally no other option was just… the final nail in his coffin. The proof that he was worthless. He thought he could hold out, could just wait a little longer, he had Steve’s scent on that blanket, he had the shirt in his nest, Steve’s heated promises for after his heat, but no, it’d taken half an hour for the pain to overwhelm.

He didn’t remember much else besides the agony of watching Steve leave the room. Leave him behind. Abandon him. It felt like he’d been rejected. Like his Alpha didn’t really want him, like none of it was real.

The blanket had stopped helping too quickly. The shirt felt like it no longer belonged, nothing belonged, nothing was right, his nest was wrong. He didn’t remember tearing it apart, but he knew he had. Knew he didn’t have a nest to hide in anymore. He was a bad Omega.

“Eddie that doesn’t make you a failure—”

“You don’t get it!!” Steve flinched back as Eddie snapped at him, the omega fully capable of violence, Steve had the scratches down his arms to prove it, and he could see the elongated canines sharp enough to puncture skin, normally used in bonding rituals but fully capable of tearing through flesh in both defence and offense. “You’ve never failed at the ONE thing your stupid alpha self is naturally meant to be able to do. People FAWNED over you, Steve, people wanted you, people threw themselves at you. Nobody wanted me. An unwanted Omega… have you ever heard of such a pathetic thing? An unwanted Omega? You know I went into heat once at school? Nobody even noticed.”

He'd spent the whole day stuffing his face until the school nurse had caught wind and sent him home, he’d not even been trying to hide his scent, just watched as people kept a wide berth, nobody wanted to touch the freak. Even during the time of the month when he was supposed to be the most attractive to the Alphas around him. Nobody.

Among failing everything else in life, he’d failed at the one thing he should have been born able to do. He was worthless. A worthless Omega.

His only saving grace in the moment was that the water hid the freely falling tears on his face.

“Eddie...”

“You don’t get it... how could you get it?” He put up such a good front, hid behind his loud, expressive, ridiculous self, but he just wanted to be wanted. Just once. Once would be enough just to prove that he could. That he wasn’t a complete failure, just once.

Steve’s other hand joined the first, both palms now cradling the other man’s face, Steve moved, pitched forward and shifted positions until he was on his knees in front of his Omega, awkward and slippery but he managed. “I want you, Eddie” those big dark eyes were on him, red rimmed and heartbroken. Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead “I do” another kiss to the tip of his nose “When this is over, I’m going to court the fuck out of you if you’ll let me” another kissed pressed to his cheek, he could feel Eddie relaxing, could feel him falling lax in Steve’s hold. “Gonna give you every quarter I find on the floor cause I know every time you see one you get all giddy about it, I’m gonna get you flowers, wild ones, cause I’ve seen you pick dozens over the years along the sides of the school carpark, I’m gonna get you pretzels covered in chocolate, and every silly Garfield related thing I can find” He’d never ignored Eddie. Not completely.

Sure he didn’t remember Eddie ever going into heat at school, but he’d never completely ignored him.

He was impossible to ignore, always there in his peripherals, doing silly shit in the background of Steve’s life. Steve had been unknowingly learning things about Eddie for as long as he’d known Eddie existed. It’d just taken a while for all that stuff to become relevant.

“When it’s over?” His voice was losing its strength again, the warmth sinking into his bones, haze returning to his gaze as he leaned more and more weight onto Steve, eyelids heavy.

“Just one more day, that’s all I need you to wait, an I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. I’m here, I’m staying. I’ll be with you through the whole damn thing, m’not letting you go again, okay?” They’d have to tranquilize him to get him out, and doing that opened them up to attack from Eddie.

“Nest—Nest is—” his voice broke, weak and full of sadness as he pitched forwards, face slipping from Steve’s hands as he fell forwards into his encircling arms instead, leaning heavily against Steve’s broad chest “gone—broke it—I—I broke it, it’s ruined” bad omega, couldn’t even keep a nest intact.

“I’ll fix it, baby, I know how we did it, I’ll fix it all for you, okay?” Steve stroked slow lines through drenched hair, holding him steady, voice soft, trying so hard to soothe “it’s gonna be okay, Eddie I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

He just had to get Eddie through one more day.

"Need—need alpha—" One more day.

Part 15

#PirateWrites #NestFiclet #Steddie #CW: A/B/O #No Upside Down AU #Omegaverse #Omega!Eddie Munson #Alpha!Steve Harrington

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partycatty · 29 days

Note

OKAY BUT LIKE..

I NEED a part 2 of eyes on the prize!! Like I wanna know if it alters the present!! Like maybe older Johnny just stares at readers breast and doesnt know why or maybe he’s distant, maybe flirtatious? How it affects their relationship with well, everyone in the S.F

johnny cage > something shifts

something about your timeline alters after you flash your boss's younger counterpart.

warnings: dilfy is kinda creepy here

notes: younger johnny is "johnny." older johnny is "cage."

[ read part one here ] [ masterlist ]

• shortly after your admittedly shameful spur-of-the-moment decision, you and younger johnny packed up shop and assumed you were needed back in the intel room, clothed and mature. as you walked through the hallway, your skin prickled and the air felt thicker as you walked. brushing it off as newfound heat for the timeline jumper beside you, you tried your best to ignore it and focus on the job.

• "so, how about that number?" johnny nudges your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. you shake your head with a smirk.

• "do you expect our phones to connect across entire timelines?" you grin up at him, brow cocked. he shrugs, adjusting his sunglasses.

• "so you bet on a losing battle! and hey, who said i was going anywhere?" his tone has returned to his playboy attitude, though you know his ego is still bruised from your smart move.

• "seems like older you says so," you respond, eyes forward. "lieutenant cage might burst a blood vessel if we kept you around."

• "old fart me just forgot how to have fun," johnny brushes... himself(?) off, rolling his shoulders as you two near the room with your colleagues. a quick adjustment of your gear and a tug of your collar later, the metal doors slide open with a scan of a keycard.

• lieutenant cage stands near the door, head snapping in your direction with wide, curious eyes. his gaze softens as it locks on you, quickly turning to a furrowed, conflicted glare.

• "gone a while," cage observes, standing straight. "i said keep an eye on him, not let him poke around the compound."

• "cool it, gramps," johnny's quick to butt in. "you guys have awesome future gear and i wanted to snag a look at it. no big deal, nothing broken, mini-me."

• "you're mini-me," cage corrects johnny with a scowl. "this is the present."

• your head spins at their conversation. "my apologies, lieutenant."

• there it is again. that gentle analytical stare. "don't worry about it." cage's hand rubs the bottom half of his face, grounding himself as he physically shakes his head to rid of the foggy thoughts brewing in his mind.

• some time passes as the timeline mixup becomes a graspable concept now, everyone discussing their solutions and understandings of the odd scenario. you sat at one of the monitors, desk chair facing outward as you chatted with a coworker, aimless talk that was even harder to focus on when you glanced past them to notice the two men staring daggers into you.

• johnny's feet rested on the desk, his teeth absentmindedly toying with a pen. cage's head is tilted, thick arms crossed but eyes averted downward. which is to say, entirely transfixed on your tits. as someone with them, it was a second sense to know when they're being stared at, so there was no doubt in your mind what he was doing.

• your body heats exponentially faster. sure, flashing johnny was one thing, but since then, cage has been giving you nothing but funny looks. did he catch you two on the security cameras, you wonder?

• cage shifts in his seat, subtly adjusting himself before muttering to johnny. "it's bothering me."

• "what? how hot that rack is?" johnny replies with a cackle, earning a solid whack on the back of the head. "don't be mad that i'm right, old man. you're totally into it."

• "i wasn't before," cage honestly admits, lips concealed by his hand it props up on the armrest. "at least, i don't think so."

• johnny is silent for a long moment. "don't be mad."

• cage swivels, now facing his younger self directly. "what the hell did you do?"

• "me? nothing!" he holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "what happened wasn't even my fault."

• cage pales, assuming his younger self to be far grosser than he was in the moment. "you didn't bang anyone, did you?"

• "not yet," johnny wags a finger. "though i bet you're picturing a nice set right about now. i know that look."

• cage's anger had a veil of daydreaming about it, something glossy in his stare. sure enough, yeah, somehow and someway he was able to fully envision you underneath him, breasts rippling and nipples hardened from the cool air. the memory slips from him the moment it becomes coherent.

• it was starting to make sense now. the new memories were being forcibly implanted into his brain, a new set of wires connecting at this development. and damn, you were looking sexier by the minute.

• cage stands with a huff, chair scratching the floor and silencing the room as they observed the sudden movement. he exits the room, finding the nearest break room. a smaller, shut away room complete with a water dispenser was his personal oasis when he grabbed a paper cup, gulping it down with intense thirst.

• he couldn't shake the violently sudden attraction to you. wondering if he might burst if he kept being in the room with you, scent and body overwhelming his every sense, cage shakes his head and splashes himself with water, eyes transfixed on the faucet as he tries to distract himself from the increasingly vivid image of your sweet skin and alluring form.

• you needed answers. "lieutenant." your voice pulls him back to reality, and he only gets a moment to adjust his hard-on before turning to face you. his jaw clenches as he meets his gaze with you as you stand in the doorway. "you seem bothered."

• cage's voice is colder than he meant for it to be. "i'm fine, no need to pry." his desire was consuming, pissing him off beyond belief that he needed to take you as soon as the opportunity arises. "just needed a break from the timeline nonsense is all." he pauses, taking another sip of the water as he thinks about his younger self. "i can be a lot."

• "that, i understand," you laugh with a deep breath, wondering why you felt so compelled to follow him. "a real charmer." you freeze, wondering if complimenting himself was a wise decision.

• cage's expression was dubious, unreadable. "you still think i am?"

• a smirk tugs at your lips. "what?"

• "charming," he clarified. "do you think i'm still charming?"

• there's no need to ponder the question. "i'd say so. the whole johnny cage flair thing is a hard thing to ignore, if i may say so, sir."

• cage's expression is dark. "you may." his eyes lock onto your chest, his own heaving.

• you follow his gaze. "you know what we did, don't you?" your face burns.

• "i have an idea," he mutters, face twitching as his gaze traces the plumpness of your boobs. "i feel different."

• so you know your boss has officially seen your tits in his memories now. your curiosity is piqued, butterflies tugging in your stomach as you inspect his wrinkles deepen. "did you like them?"

• the cup is quickly discarded, his eyes unmoving as he nods slowly. his gaze flicks up to your own as you bat your lashes his way. confidence surges through you after your realization of the timeline altering.

• "to be frank with you," he chuckles dryly, rubbing at the back of his neck. your fingers dance on the hem of your shirt with a bubbling need. "can't say i'd mind seeing them again. refresh my memory, would you?"

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut #mk11 #marley writes ☆

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ferrstappen · 1 year

Note

what about a pr relationship with max? 👀

plot twist: it’s real | max verstappen

Everybody was whispering about a secret guest on the Red Bull garage. It was Brad Pitt, but you on the other side, walked freely around the paddock in Miami, just another celebrity making an appearance, no one suspected you would be his co-star, Brad Pitt’s love interest or something along those lines.

However, the public did suspect something was going on between Max and you after the GP, even official Red Bull videos of you asking him questions as he drove at an extreme speed.

You started following each other in social media, tagging him on multiple stories during the weekend. The last one sent people into a frenzy, it was simple, just Max holding the trophy, blue eyes shining as he directly smiled at you; face red and sweaty, dark blond hair sticking to his forehead and extra fluffy from humidity, even the tip of his tongue was visible from how big he was smiling.

It was calculated to the second; every post, every appearance, every smile.

Anyone who was mildly involved in gossip and celebrity drama was aware that PR relationships were a think of the past, no one having the time to do such things nowadays.

Plus, with Deuxmoi on every corner and every available information, it wasn’t a particularly smart move.

But no one said anything about hinting at something, studied long gazes, bad jokes on camera, walks on the beach, leaving clubs early with Max acting as a bodyguard of sorts. Of course people were speculating, young rising Hollywood star actress and Formula 1 prodigy, a talent so natural it was unbelievable.

A power couple.

Both you and Max were aware this was just to boost a movie while attracting more people to F1. But somewhere along the way, lines became a little blurry; hugs weren’t mechanic, laughs were real, the butterflies appeared and suddenly, you were holding hands during your beach walks.

You were wearing his cap while walking on the sunny Los Angeles streets, boarding a plane to wherever the GP was taking place, the paddock, it became part of your every day look.

Max was seen on movie premieres, not walking the red carpet but quietly inside the theatre, his jet was seen landing on LAX more often, making appearances on movie sets.

During the weekend of the Monaco GP you decided to make it official, boyfriend and girlfriend. You fell asleep on his arms, naked chest under your head as he laughed at something you said, insisting he should be sleeping for FP3 and qualifying, but he couldn’t, enjoying the way the way your breathing slowed down along the cata purring on the floor.

It was still unknown to everyone else, though. Of course, people in the paddock knew, Kym Illman photographing your arrival early in the morning sporting the Red Bull cap. Other celebrities attending the iconic GP noticing the obvious nature of your relationship, with Max’s hand not even trying to hide the fact they were resting on your ass, fingers sneaking under your blouse to caress the skin.

Then, the obvious started to happen.

subject: Motorsport and Hollywood rising stars in love.

email: [email protected]

Message: I have it on good authority Hollywood’s newest sweetheart will be starring along an iconic and heartbreaker actor in a driving movie, even the actor in question attended the Miami Grand Prix a couple of weeks ago.

The surprise is that the predicted winner of this F1 season and the actress are in a committed relationship ever since they met since this winner, gives-you-wings f1 team will be sponsoring and working in the movie. A source even told me they were seen making out on his yacht during the Monaco Grand Prix, and the actress was sitting and laughing with the driver’s mom and sister 👀

user1: i bet my life this is max Emilian verstappen and (y/n), why else would max be seen in universal studios???

user 2: what about Florence Pugh and Charles Leclerc?

user3: no way, Florence attended with her bf!!!

user4: it’s giving pr for the movie💀

user5: (y/n) even comments on Victoria Verstappen’s post!!! and Max went out for drinks with Daniel Ricc, Pedro Pascal and Bradley cooper after the met, they probably met on set bc they’re filming with (y/n) They’re not even hiding at this point!!!

Well, you kept hiding until it was time for the movie premier. Everyone from Red Bull was invited; Checo, Daniel and Max arriving together, Christian and Geri were naturals, but Max was waiting for you on the red carpet.

Your Versace dress was the perfect fit, Max couldn’t help but look at your ass and boobs, not caring photographers were everywhere, it was time to stop sneaking and pretending you were just friends.

His arm found its place on your waist, dedicating you his brightest smile before kissing your lips, people screaming your names, but your eyes only found his blue ones, shining under the flashes and holding his hand.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen au #football #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader

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queenshelby · 2 months

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OSCAR SPECIAL (PART TWO OF FOUR)

Given Cillian’s recent success, I decided to jump ahead a little in my fics and give you a little Oscar Special. But don’t worry, I will cover off everything in between in due course and, for some fics, this Oscar part will hopefully get you guessing, while for others it will constitute a happy ending!

Yes! Mr Murphy (Oscar Special)

Eight months later…

For the past three months, you accompanied Cillian to every award show there was but, tonight, was the most special and nerve wrecking one of them all - The Oscars.

You wore a long dark coloured gown, its material shimmering and alive as it danced against the soft curves of your body. Intricate golden lace wrapped around your throat and gave the impression of a choker necklace and the necklace itself matched your earrings, studded with small sparkling stones.

It had taken you an eternity to fix your makeup, granting yourself those seductive eyes with a hint of elegance that only added to your mystique that night and, if it hadn't been for your best friend Emma who designed your dress, you wouldn't have known what to wear at all.

Cillian on the other hand, was impeccably dressed in a well-tailored suit. His eyes matched the calmness and ease of his demeanor, accentuated by his ever-charming smile. The perfect pair for this Hollywood scene, yet the excitement still created an anxious buzz in your guts.

"I don't think I will ever get used to this," you told Cillian quietly, gripping his hand as the sea of reporters approached.

"Neither will dad, trust me," his daughter Nina said as she smiled at you both, walking by your side and being closely followed by Max, Cillian's son who much rather wanted to keep to himself.

"True that, Nina," Cillian responded to his daughter's comment with a smile, accepting the situation with determination and strength, while the momentary buzz of the crowd and the flashes of the cameras made you feel a bit overwhelmed and nauseous again.

Then, out of nowhere, a familiar reporter from Entertainment Weekly, eventually called Cillian's name as all four of you reached her position and, closing in, she began firing off her questions like a seasoned gunslinger.

"I can see you brought the entire family along to the Oscars tonight," she said, appraising you all as you stepped back to give Cillian some space.

"I did indeed," Cillian responded professionally to her question while you moved out of the way, not wanting to be on camera. "And I am just so glad that they can be here with me tonight," he added before briefly looking back at you with a smile.

The reporter smiled too, following up with another question. "And how do you feel about being nominated for an Oscar?" Samantha asked, holding her microphone with one hand and poising her pen on her notepad with the other.

"Well, it's always an honor to be nominated for an award, of course. But no matter the outcome, I just want to take this time to enjoy myself and appreciate everyone who worked so hard on the project," he responded humbly before, finally, the music turned on, indicating to you that you had to take your seats.

Cillian, once again, took your hand, leading the way into the screening hall which is where Nina and Max trailed off to sit on the viewing platform upstairs. All of the nominees were only allowed one guest to accompany them and, of course, Cillian took you that night for support.

You were seated directly behind Emily Blunt and her husband John

Krasinski, allowing you views of the entire theater, as well as the giant screen in the front.

"You look spectacular Y/N," Emily said as she greeted you with a friendly hug before telling Cillian that he did not look too shabby either.

"So do you," you told her while admiring her dress and, before you knew it, the lights went down and you fell quiet, anticipation crackling in the air.

The audience was breathless, eyes transfixed on the giant screen and, even though it was dark enough, you felt as though you could hear the thundering of everyone's hearts beating in unison.

You could sense Cillian's nervousness and took his hand into yours as, after about two and a half hours, the nominees for his category were called out and his name, among other prestigious actors, echoed from the loud speaker.

The energy in the auditorium was tense and, as the room filled with a sudden hush, the sound of creaking chairs and shifting bodies brought you back to the uncomfortable reality of this grand stage you could not help but feel trapped on as you waited to hear the winner called.

Cillian squeezed your hand gently and you let your thumb glide against his palm, keeping him tethered to you and giving him a boost of confidence in the process.

You then turned your gaze back to the screen, breathing in deeply as the list of candidates scrolled down on the screen and, before your heart could skip a beat, the envelope was opened, the winner revealed.

"And the winner is..." Jimmy Kimmel began to say as the moment stretched on in agony as you hung on to the edge of your seat.

"Cillian Murphy, for his role in Oppenheimer!" he exclaimed and, as the crowd erupted in cheer, Cillian let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding.

He looked at you as if searching for an ounce of calmness, but there it was, reverberating between the two of you.

"I am so proud of you," you told him somewhat emotionally just before he gave you somewhat rushed but emotional kiss. He then nodded nervously and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of his suit as he prepared himself for the stage in front of an auditorium filled with people.

He looked down on you, a smile playing on his lips. "Y/N," he whispered lovingly, "thank you for everything those past few months," he said before walking towards the stage where he would accept his first Oscar.

Your heart swelled at the pure vulnerability that lay within his beautifully sculpted features. A rush of emotions surged in your veins as you acknowledged the love you both shared and the journey that unfolded, since being whisked into each other's lives. It felt like a lifetime ago since the first moment your eyes laid upon him, your undeterred admiration.

He took stage and accepted his award before taking the podium with grace, his voice echoing in gratitude, speaking on the magnitude of the project and thanking Christopher Nolan and his wife for believing in him before also addressing the cast and crew and then, finally, his family.

"Last but not least, I would also like to thank my beautiful fiancée for her support during those last few months. You have been my source of strength as well as my retreat in the midst of this roller coaster ride. I love you and I couldn't have done it without you," Cillian said, gazing into the distance and catching your attention. "And finally, to my children, Nina, Max and my baby girl Sian, thank you for believing in me. I love you so much," he finished, his voice cracking slightly for the first time among his composure.

His speech was genuine and heartfelt, adding a depth of personal connection to an otherwise impersonal event.

The crowd waited for him to compose himself, taking in the genuine sentiment that lay within his words as he left the stage, lifting his award up in triumph, before walking back towards his seat.

"—I couldn't be happier for Cillian," Emily whispered to you as he sat back down. "He really deserved it. And," she added, smiling a hushed confirmation. "That was a beautiful speech," she told you and you nodded, wiping away a tear.

"You did it," you smiled at him as he sat back down, his face flushed.

"Fuck yes, I did," he chuckled before kissing you more deeply than before feeding off of the relief that swept over his body while for you, unfortunately, the nausea hit you again.

"Only a few more months of this, babe," Cillian reassured you, noticing your discomfort and you couldn't help but flash him a smile.

"2024 is a big year for us," you nodded in agreement, his fingers intertwining with yours as you imagined what laid ahead.

To be continued...

Tags:

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic

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hongcherry · 6 months

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webisode: two || j.jk

Jungkook speaks to you for the first time, and the outcome shocks him.

📸 Pairing: spiderman!Jungkook x girlfriend!Reader(afab)

📸 Rating/Genres/AUs: PG-15; fluff, strangers to lovers, SBaFL au, Marvel au

📸 Warnings: Bullying

📸 Word Count: 1k

📸 Timeline: Before Tangled Thoughts, Jungkook is not Spidey yet c:

📸 Author’s Note: This has been a long time coming! I'll try to work on more high school-related fics of this couple since a lot of you guys have been asking for them thru my SBaFL survey. I greatly appreciate all the great feedback I've gotten, whether through the form or on here directly! 💖

SBaFL masterpost | bts masterlist | main masterlist

“Jeon! You’re late!”

Jungkook scrambles to grab the camera bag from its cabinet. There’s a thin layer of sweat on his body from having run from the library.

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Jay! I got caught up with ho—”

“I don’t want excuses, Jeon. I want pictures!” he exasperates while pointing to the door. “The play starts in seven minutes. You better haul it before they shut the doors.”

“Y-yes sir,” Jungkook exclaims before rushing out of the room.

Jungkook sprints through the halls, dodging students left and right. He wouldn’t consider himself completely non-athletic. He’s not as clumsy as he looks, and he can run a decent length without getting tired. However, he’s still grouped with the “weaker” students. He blames his narrow frame.

Jungkook’s a few feet away from the auditorium doors when he suddenly trips over something. His body slides across the tiles, and there’s a small crack as his face collides with the ground. His vision is paired with an annoying new line now that his glasses lenses are cracked.

There’s laughter behind him as he staggers back up. He doesn’t need to look back to know his fall wasn’t accidental.

“Awh, even he’s falling for you, Flash,” one of the students chuckles.

Jungkook glares at them. He wants to scold them, but the play is about to start.

“Are you speechless over my looks too, Jungpoop?” Flash smirks.

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he turns to rush toward the now-closing doors. He doesn’t have time for a pointless argument.

“Wait! Please!” he calls out.

The doors keep closing.

Jungkook pumps his legs faster and shoves his foot in the small gap. He curses mentally as the door crushes his foot. Pain shoots up his leg and instincts make him want to cradle it. Though, he pushes past those feelings and shimmies his way in.

“Excuse me, thank you,” he mumbles hurriedly even though the student worker doesn’t help him or say anything. They simply stare at him blankly—bored and unbothered.

Must be working for extra credit or something.

Jungkook takes a seat in the back while he pulls out the camera. He messes with the settings for a bit before taking a test shot. However, he fails to remember the flash is on due to the dark setting.

Heads turn to glare at him at the sudden burst of light.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he whispers loudly and quickly turns the flash off.

“Dammit,” he huffs to himself as he readjusts his settings.

The house lights dim and music begins to play over the speakers.

Looks like he made it just in time.

He puts his student worker lanyard and the camera’s strap around his neck. Time to get to work.

He carefully descends the aisle, getting closer to the stage.

“Stop right there!”

Jungkook halts in his movements, glancing around to see who said that. Then he realizes it was someone from the play.

Jungkook’s gaze drifts to the stage and his heart stops.

It’s you.

Yn.

You’re the lead?

Jungkook watches you perform, amazed by your talent. You’re embodying your character well.

He had no idea you were going to be on stage.

He mainly knows you from class, but he’s also seen you in the halls occasionally. Your bright personality caught his attention, along with others. You’re not the most popular, but you’re definitely not a shadow either.

He’s never talked to you and doubts you even know who he is.

Jungkook has always thought you were pretty. Though, not only that, you were also top of the class. Brains and beauty.

And now, you’re a great actress? He wonders what you can’t do.

Once Jungkook finally snaps out of his surprise, he begins capturing photos. He moves to and fro of the stage, getting different angles. He finds a spot that provides a good view and makes a home there. He watches the play with rapt attention, taking a few pictures during interesting scenes.

Before he knows it, the play is over and everyone is taking a bow.

The house lights turn on and people start filing out of the auditorium.

Jungkook grabs his belongings and then follows the stream of others. He spots you in the corner surrounded by a handful of people.

People you seem unfamiliar with come and praise you, and as always, you give them your dashing smile.

Jungkook adjusts his camera settings and after a deep breath, makes his way toward you.

“Excuse me, Yn,” Jungkook hesitantly calls out.

You turn from your group of supporters. Your eyes shine so brightly that Jungkook feels his breath get stuck in his throat.

“Yes?” you respond politely.

Jungkook blinks rapidly. “I-I’m with the school’s newspaper. Can I get a p-photo of you?”

You smile and nod, then point to the flowers in your hands. “Should I give these to someone?”

Jungkook shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s okay. You look pretty with them.”

You raise an eyebrow at his comment, and it’s then Jungkook registers what he has said.

“I-I mean they look pretty! They’re nice flowers,” he corrects hurriedly.

You giggle. “They are.”

Jungkook nods but doesn’t say anything.

“Where should I stand?” you ask after a few awkward silent seconds.

“Oh! Over here is fine,” Jungkook points to a blank wall.

You move to stand in front of the wall and hold up the flowers. Tilting your head, you smile at Jungkook.

Jungkook’s heart is beating quickly as he snaps a few pictures. He just hoped his hands were stable enough; Mr. Jay will be more mad at him if his pictures turn out to be crap.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says.

You start walking slowly backward toward your friends and family.

“Anytime… Jungkook, right?” you question.

Jungkook nearly drops the camera at his name from your mouth. You know his name?”

“Y-yeah. You k-know me?” he stutters pathetically.

You smile kindly. “Of course. You’re the awesome photographer for our school’s paper,” you gesture to the camera.

“And,” you continue, “you’re in my chemistry class. You always get the questions correct.”

“R-right.”

Jungkook’s too stunned to say anything. He didn’t expect you to remember his name. After all, he’s never really spoken to you, let alone told you his name directly.

“I hope you liked the show. I’ll see you Monday,” you say with a wave, then turn away.

Jungkook’s delayed wave goes unnoticed, but he’s too amazed you know his name to care.

A/N: Has anyone seen/played the new Spidey game? It's so amazing!!! I loved it so much! I'm also a big Venom fan 🤭

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#spidey jk #spiderman jungkook #jungkook spiderman #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook marvel #bts marvel au #kdiarynet #kvanity

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liebgottsjumpwings · 2 months

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AUGUST AFTERNOON | FAYE FISCHER | MASTERS OF THE AIR

Summary: Faye Fischer and her newly acquired friend Ken Lemmons spend a sunny afternoon at Thorpe Abbotts, Faye thinks about the past few years and is then (not so) rudely interrupted by a certain curly haired pilot. Who had managed to make her blush several times some days ago.

Warnings: general war violence, implied minor (and not canon) character death.

Word count: a bit over 2500

Note: this was meant to be a little less than 1k word blurb, turned into way more. I hope it isn't too boring as most of it delves into Faye's experiences before the mota canon. That is also because I use my ocs to study certain historical events, so this really is just self indulgence. Please pretty please let me know what you think of it! (This fic is also posted on AO3)

AUGUST 21, 1943, 16:32

“What kind of name is ‘Just-a-Snappin’ even?” Faye Fischer wondered out loud, only half expecting an answer from the man in front of her as she came to sit up from her lying position in the grass. She squinted, just about able to make out the text on the B-17 Ken Lemmons was working on. Her squint disappeared as he came into her sight, blocking the warm ray of sunshine she had been enjoying moments prior, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “You’re gonna have to ask Blakely that one,” answered the curly haired man standing in her sun. Looking at him, she wondered why he would hide those curls under that beanie. Probably so all that working grease wouldn’t get into it.

Faye shrugged, letting herself fall back into the grass. “Whenever I ask Blakely a question, the man answers with a goddamn riddle,” she let the end of her sentence continue into a sigh. Ken just laughed, his hands firm on his hips. The sun made the edge of his curls shine, almost like an aureole. Visually, him standing in her sun wasn’t so bad, it looked quite pretty. Her skin was starting to miss the warmth of the sun rays, though. Faye’s fingertips tapped on the cap of her camera lens, the Contax II had been laying on her stomach, under one of Ken’s work rags, to shield it from the sun. “Keep standing like that,” Faye ordered him as she removed the cap from the lens, turning on her camera.

“Aren’t you only supposed to use that for… you know… work purposes?” she heard him ask as she fiddled with the exposure settings. A scoff escaped past her lips as she lined up the viewfinder with her left eye. “Shut up, they made me pay for my own film rolls when I arrived in England, so they’re mine technically anyway” Faye deadpanned in response, snapping a photo of Ken. “Besides,” she continued, putting her camera back under the rag again, letting her head fall back into the grass, “don’t you think the photo I just took wouldn’t go over well with all those war bond leaflets?” She held up her hands, reading an imaginary leaflet “Purchase a war bond so our curly haired cuties can maintain our bomber planes!” she sarcastically called out. It earned a belly-laugh from Ken, who then turned around, readying himself to get back to his maintenance work as he continued laughing, “I hope to God not.” Faye smiled in response, “Yeah, well, I’ve taken more leisure photos on this camera than the OSS would be comfortable knowing. It is only fair because nearly all film rolls were mine anyway,” she trailed off, closing her eyes again as the warm August sun blanketed her.

The warmth took her back to August, nearly three years back, 1940. To the emerging hills behind Mulhouse, in the occupied region of the Alsace in France. Back then, she too had snapped a photo that the OSS would turn their noses up at. She couldn’t help it, though, the sleepy little cottage the, back then, above ground resistance she was attached to used as their base of operations was too pretty against the sunny hills. Plus, the whole rule against taking photos that do not directly aid the war effort was bullshit anyway. They increased her morale, no? Surely a heightened sense of morale would aid the war effort. Just like her friend, and resistance member Isidore was aiding the war effort by developing the photos Faye had taken recently. His girlfriend, Julienne, a distant cousin of Faye’s neighbors back in Louisiana, the Klotz family, laid next to her in the grass, yelling at her sweetheart to stop working so hard and join them in the warm sum. She still remembered the minty smell of the Ground Ivy that tickled against her cheeks in the field near the cottage as she watched Isidore exit the cottage, some of the successfully developed photos under his arm, he dropped them above the two women. The photographs whirled softly down onto them, like those propaganda leaflets that had recently been dropping from planes over the region. The association made her chuckle. She much preferred these photographs over those leaflets.

Oh, how she longed back to be in that sleepy little field just behind Mulhouse. Unknowing and indifferent to what was about to wash over her. Over her dear friends. Over her distant relatives, up north in Sélestat. How she wished to gain that sense of unknowing and indifference once more. The fleeting feeling of walking back home from the shul on those warm August evenings, taking the train from Mulhouse towards Sélestat, being greeted by her grandmother’s second brother, the one who stayed behind in Alsace. Being taken in to his family, learning about their extensive history and connection to this land. It made her feel proud, like her family here. All of that despite the impending feeling of calamity. That feeling grew more and more with each news item about the Germans inching closer. Forcing themselves back into the territory they’ve claimed as theirs for eras. This time, it came paired with a terrifying venom against a group of people so deeply rooted in this region.

After the annexation of the Alsace into Nazi-Germany, the resistance group Faye had been attached to by the OSS was forced to go underground. Her work, instead of reporting back to the OSS on current events in the border region between France and Germany, became a high-risk operation that aided the Alsatian resistance in its activities against the Nazi occupier. When it happened, the OSS had forbidden her to associate publicly with her family and the community she had built up. They deemed it ‘too riskful’. And because Faye had no choice, she listened to those orders. And just like that, her growing connection with her ancestral home region, her family, the core of her very identity was snapped away. Just as quick as it had flourished. She watched the treatment of her people become more and more dire every day. She watched and she could do nothing but watch. Nothing outward anyway. In secret, she was doing more than she ever had done. Risking everything to make it harder for the Nazis to spread their hatred and evil. In return, she got the gnarly gift of having to distance herself from the recently cultivating bond with her family that lived halfway across the world from her.

Yes, she still had Isidore, Julienne and the rest of their group. Though, as they were forced to become underground, a painful strain started to form on their friendship. Understandably so, tensions were high, risks were always there and the imminent feeling of doom never stopped looming over the group.

Which ended up being for good reason. Come the early February days of 1943, Faye found herself with her left cheek pressed into the cold ground where the minty Ground Ivy once grew. The barrel of a Karabiner 98A straight against her right cheek. She still wasn’t sure who gave up their activities to the SS. She wasn’t sure if she cared enough by then either way. Or now, for that matter. In the two and a half years that spanned from that first summer in Alsace to February of 1943, Faye had grown disillusioned to the point that she wasn’t even sure if she cared about living, or dying. Maybe it was for the better that death seemed so close. That it came to her in the form of a German rifle.

That was until she remembered why her family decided to migrate to the United States. Back in the late 19th century, the Jews of the Alsace were already facing hardships. And it was those hardships that made her grandparents decide that from there on out, their family line would not suffer under those hardships anymore. So they set sail to Louisiana, because their children, and their children, and their children (and so on), deserved a life of flourishing. So it was there, February 1943, with the cold barrel of a Karabiner 98A pressed to her face, that Faye decided that she would honor that wish. She would not die at the hands of those who wished her dead.

She wasn’t sure how, but she ran, she ran until her feet gave out and Isidore made them duck into a dense shrub. His face stained with dirt, much like hers. And through the dirt on his face, tears traced their paths. Then it dawned on her that Julienne hadn’t made it out with them. Faye hoped with everything she had in her dear friend wasn’t left out, alone in that cold field. But there wasn’t much time for hoping. They had to make it to safety. To a place where they couldn’t be reached by those who were looking for them.

Switzerland. Within a few days of frantic fleeing, both of them somehow made it to Basel, just over the border. Isidore’s previously tear-filled eyes had turned empty by then. And Faye feared for him. She feared for everyone they had to leave behind. The fear didn’t leave her when she walked away from the hospital she had helped Isidore to, so his wounds could be looked at. Not caring much for her own, and after the OSS had been made aware of her whereabouts, they had arranged a route to England for her. To ‘escape’ the risk she found herself in, according to the OSS. She still scoffs at the mention of ‘risk’, the OSS would never fully know. And so, after a goodbye ‘for now’ and a promise to keep in touch, she departed for the train station of Basel, on towards Bern, and from there, hopefully England. She watched the fields roll by, they were barren, empty of life. She tried to not let it remind her of Julienne too much. Hoping that her friend had somehow made it to safety, like her sweetheart and Faye.

Her memories were disturbed by the warm sun once again being taken away from her. This time, it wasn’t because a certain crew chief by the name of Ken Lemmons was standing in between her and her blanket of warmth, it was because Faye hadn’t noticed the time pass by and the sun having moved behind the officer’s buildings on the air base. She let out a groan at the feeling of her back cracking as she sat up, her camera falling into her lap. Slowly opening her eyes, to her surprise, ‘Just-a-Snappin’ had been exchanged for a different airplane. Though, her eyes were too blurry from the sun shining onto them, to make out the name. These damn pilots and their airplane names.

What she did make out was Ken and what seemed to be a pilot, standing by the plane as Ken pointed out several things on the wing. The pilot nodding, seemingly intently listening to Ken. Faye, after rubbing her eyes intensely, was able to make out more of the scene in front of her. Her sight darted towards the plane again, reading. ‘Rosie's Riveters,’ she mouthed the words. Way better name for a plane than whatever Blakely was thinking with his one, Faye thought. Her gaze moved over to Ken and the still unknown pilot again. Squinting, she could make out the brown curls, kept small and neatly arranged on top of his head. The 100th and their tendency to hide their gorgeous curls irrationally annoyed Faye to no end. She eternally cursed Ken for hiding them behind his beanie, too. She looked back to the nose of the plane, ‘Rosie’s Riveters.’ Oh. Robert Rosenthal. The man that had made her blush the other night without even knowing he had. Robert Rosenthal had arrived at Thorpe Abbotts some two weeks after Faye herself did. She had been sitting with Helen and the other women as she watched him come into the officers’ club, his feet carrying him, dancing towards his crewmates. It was his little twist and the way his jacket moved in the air flow created by it; itt had been the first time she smiled that day. And Helen noticed. Sending Faye a teasing look as she dug the nose of her shoe into Faye’s shin. The action made Faye’s cheeks turn bright red, sinking deeper into her seat, disappearing into the shadow of the curved wall as she let out a soft, intoxicated giggle.

It wasn’t much later, after Nash had successfully achieved a dance from Helen, that Rosenthal’s eyes locked with Faye’s. The same red from before creeping up from her throat to her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile. His returning smile was beaming, like a direct ray of sunlight across the room. She would receive a few more of such smiles from him throughout the night.

Now, with his pilot’s hat snug under his arm, Faye could see him smile at Ken, a thankful smile. And who wouldn’t be thankful for Ken Lemmons. The man worked tirelessly to send them up safely into the air. But, oh she was sure it was Robert Rosenthal standing there, alright. Yeah, that smile, of which she had been on the receiving end several times now, she recognized it. The familiar, uneasy yet welcomed feeling creeped up in her stomach again. She could feel the flush in her throat. Combined with the hours of direct sunlight she had received over the afternoon, remembering their shared looks made her slightly lightheaded as she rose to her feet. Hoping to quietly leave, as to not gain the perception of both men standing some feet away from her.

Mission unsuccessful, though, damn it. “Fish!” she heard Ken call her. Her arms dropped beside her body as she turned around, her camera swinging with a little delay. She caught it, so it wouldn’t hit her on her stomach. For some stupid reason, her breathing increased in frequency as she watched the two men walk over to her. She had to consciously try to not take a step backward everytime they took one forward. She tried to keep her eyes strictly on Ken.“You think that is a better name for a plane?” he asked, pointing towards the B-17. Her eyes followed his pointing, reading the text on the nose of the plane for a third time. Before she realized, she already voiced her opinion. “I think naming anything but a pet or a human is a weird thing anyway,” she retorted, eyes dead set on Ken. Next to him, she heard a chuckle. “I’m actually quite proud of ‘Rosie’s Riveters’” she heard the curly haired brunette next to Ken say. There was no fighting it anymore, she had to actually look at him now. And she was sure you could compare the color of her cheeks to the apples they served in the breakfast hall, bright red. Still, like she always did, she came up with a retort; “Well, it’s better than Blakely’s, I guess,” she said, a sly, yet slightly shy smile appearing on her lips. The brunette in front of her let out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling. It tugged at Faye’s heartstrings, “Yeah, I’ll take that.” he said. And there it was again, that goddamned smile.

#masters of the air #robert rosenthal #ken lemmons #hbo war #oc: faye #masters of the air x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal #mota #my writing

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dollydaisies · 4 months

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Can I pls request a BTS reaction? They have a crush on their friend who is not a celebrity, so they can't confess to her because of their reputation/job, but they are really close. One day someone from their company revealed a sensitive information about them. So, the members and the company accused her of it because they thought that she was only with them to become famous. They didn't believe her and also told her many hurtful things. But later it was revealed that it was not her but someone else and she was telling the truth. Later they try to reconcile with her and asks her to forgive them but it was too late. Can you please write it as angst?

If it's too specific for you, you don't have to write it. Thank you anyways ☺️☺️

my first ask! thank you so much for sending this! my bts skills may be a tad bit rusty, so i'm sorry if this isn't up to par with your expectations. im doing allll the research i can! some things may be changed up a bit, but i'm trying to stick to your prompt the best that i can!

summary: forbidden love hurts, and it sometimes builds up frustration inside you, which then turns into flipping out on the person you love nonsensically solely because you're overwhelmed. they had to learn to think before they act, and, now, they're suffering from the consequences of their actions.

characters: just to test the waters and see if you like what i'm doing, i am only doing kim namjoon. if you like this, i will continue with the other members i’m comfortable writing! please tell me if i did well or was a lil' off. i'll always take constructive criticism:)

kim namjoon never meant to hurt anyone, but he especially made sure that he would not hurt you. he cares about you so much, to the point where seeing you even slightly sad could mess up his whole day.

you're bts's songwriter and producer, but also their friend. when they make plans, they want to include you, always. even if they go to the beach for a run bts episode, they want YOU to be there after the cameras are off. of course, every single member of the group wants you to be around, but namjoon insists on it. you're his safe place, the person he confides in when times get hard--why wouldn't he want you there?

"are you sure you don't want to come with us on this tour?" namjoon looks at you with full passion in his eyes. he wants you to come with them, even if he won't directly say it. "you know that we will always want you to come with, right?"

that little "we" always gets you every time. sure, you know that it's true, and so does he, but that's not what you want to hear and that's not what he wants to say. you want to hear him say "i want you to come with," but it feels like he refuses to say it. he's only not saying it because it'll make his feelings too real, and he can't deal with the reality that you can never be his.

"ah, i know, joonie... but i need to work on the ideas you all gave me for this next album. it's the final one before you all go on hiatus, so i can't take a break," you respond, playing with your bowl of ramen without eating it. you're the only two in the kitchen, and it's quiet. "i'd love to go, but i just can't afford to right now. you know i'm short on money."

namjoon sighs, but nods. "i understand. it's just gonna be hard to be on tour without you."

you send him a sweet smile, then giggle softly. "you're such a baby, did you know that?"

"it's our little secret, keep it hush."

that wasn't the secret that destroyed everything you've built with him over the past decade, but it was more of a foreshadow. you felt excited at the idea of having a secret with him, but also dread--this is silly, though. you guys have thousands of secrets. you're best friends, and you always have been, so why is your gut telling you to fight or fly?

around a week later, dispatch reports on news that namjoon has never told a soul about--except for you. the moment his brain processes the information told to him by the higher-ups, he immediately gets up from his seat and marches to your usual spot that you linger in.

"get out."

"huh?"

your face is full of pure confusion, a bit like a deer in headlights. sure, you've had your arguments and fights before, but he has never been this harsh off the bat--hell, he was rarely ever truly harsh.

the way his eyes look at you with pure disgust, and the sarcastic laugh he lets out... it feels like you don't know who's standing in front of you. yeah, it's namjoon, but... it's also not.

"i knew you were desperate for money, y/n, but i didn't think you'd be this desperate. if i knew you were like this, i would've fired you sooner."

"namjoon, what the hell are you talking about?" you stand up from your seat, yelling at him a bit. it's obvious you aren't even mad, you're just a mix of confused, scared, and worried.

"you know what i'm talking about, y/n. hell, the rest of the world does as well, since you decided to go to dispatch about it."

he holds up his phone so you can look at the site he pulled up. you scrolled and scrolled in pure shock, confusion, and disgust. "i... namjoon, i did not rat you out to anyone. why would i?"

"people like you only care about money. figure it out, and get out of this dorm."

absolutely stunned, you walk to the door in complete silence, then turn around. he looks a bit lost in thought, then he finally sees you. you, whose eyes are full of tears; you, whose cheeks are red due to how panicked you got from him yelling; and you, who refused to yell at him back even when he disrespected you.

while he was so sure he was right, a pit in his stomach grew larger. he feels like he’s doing something bad, something wrong, and he doesn’t know why.

"i just want to say," you pause for a second, then continued. "if this is the real you, kim namjoon, maybe i should've been the one to expose you after all."

you slam the door.

months have passed, and you work at a local music store. sure, you write songs still, but they're not for anyone else except you. you refused to talk to all of them, talk about all of them, or even think about any of them. in your mind, bts disbanded the second he broke your heart, and your trust. truthfully, it’s unfair, as all the other members have texted you so many times and begged for a response, but you can’t think of them without thinking of him.

the store is completely empty, so you're scrolling through every single social media app you have downloaded brainlessly. the words you're reading are not completely processing in your head at all, they kinda just look like funky shapes.

one title, though, caught your attention.

"kim namjoon talks about trust, compassion, and friendship in recent SEVENTEEN interview."

your jaw clenches, and you slam your phone down. your tears are threatening to come out, but you refuse to let yourself still be hurt by him. he doesn't deserve your time, your tears, your anything. that's, at least, what you keep trying to convince yourself of, anyways.

the bell at the door rings, and you try to regain your composure. you

"welcome to good vibes, home to all of the--"

you freeze. you don't know what to do, what to say, or how to even move. are you supposed to say anything? it's not like he’s saying anything—hell, he has a mask over his face and a hood on his head, but you KNOW it’s him. now, he’s just staring at you blankly. you’re wearing a mask, so maybe there’s a chance—

“y/n,” namjoon softly says your name, and your heart pangs against your chest. it’s a mix of heartbreak, anxiety, and all the leftover love you have for him. “i was looking for you.”

you’re so nervous, you could burst into tears. you want to hop over your desk and run into his arms and tell him how much you miss him, but also how much you hate him for hurting you so much. why do you still love a man that said such unforgivable words?

“why?” your words were a bit breathy, and you began to chuckle a bit while shaking your head. “there’s nothing left to say—unless, y’know, you’re gonna tell me all i care about is money again because i have a job.”

“i’m sorry,” namjoon sighs, then walks to you. the desk separates you, but you wish you could fall into his arms. you keep your composure all the same, though.

“that day, i was so stressed. it felt as if so many things were happening at once, and to know that a secret that i only told you got out… i felt so much betrayal all at once, i didn’t want to hear you out. if i’m being completely vulnerable, i wanted to go cry,” he let out a small chuckle.

looking at you, your face was completely unreadable. it’s like you were thinking of so many things, but also of nothing at the same time. was he doing well? he doesn’t know. he’s just going with what he feels in his heart.

“in my heart, i knew i should’ve ran back to you and apologized; in my heart, i knew i should’ve heard every single word you said, because you would never lie to me,” namjoon balls his hands into a fists, then looks at you in the eyes, “so i’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that i was wrong.”

the store was tense, and all you could hear is the music playing so softly in the background as you stare at him. he’s trying to read your expression, to see if there’s any bit of leftover love in your eyes, but it just feels cold.

after a minute, you begin to laugh. it’s a full laughing attack, actually, and namjoon just stares. his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, because he’s not stupid—he knows this means he’s fucked up.

“what, did you think was a kdrama, namjoon? did you think i was going to hear that apology, jump into your arms, and say, ‘oppa, never hurt me ever again!’ or something?” you say these words while still laughing, and namjoon is still stunned. “what happened for you to come up here and say this to me? based on your new change in personality with… hating poor people and all, i can’t imagine you just woke up one day and did it.”

“we found who actually did it. it was our stylist, sooyoung.”

“so that’s what it took for you to finally realize i was innocent? instead of thinking back ro everything you said to me and how hurt i was, it took them finding out the real person behind the crime for you to realize i was telling the truth?”

you slam your hand on the desk, and your body is trembling. you’re on an adrenaline rush, but you’re also sad, scared, and angry. namjoon notices this and places his hand on yours, like he always used to.

“y/n, you’re shaking, please ca—“

“i don’t give a fuck, namjoon,” you yell, and namjoon is completely frozen. “i’ve known you since you were a trainee, and, yet, you still thought that i was some… freaky gold digger that would sell her friends out for money. do you know how much that hurts? to know that you think i have the potential to be like that?”

namjoon’s eyes begin to tear up, while your eyes have already overflown. your cheeks are entirely red, and you let out a choked sob. your head drops, and you let out a dry chuckle.

“for over a decade, i have been nothing but loyal and true to you; yet, it takes a full-blown investigation for you to realize how you did me wrong,” you then look up at him with no sympathy in your body. “it’s my turn to tell you to get out, namjoon. and, for your sake, never come back. i never want to see you again.”

he hesitates to walk away, and you’re staring at him, emotionless.

“what, are you deaf? get out.”

namjoon finally leaves, walking quickly towards his car, and you fall to your knees. you’re on the cold floor, shaking and crying, as you realize your life will never be the same ever again.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts x reader #namjoon scenarios #namjoon!‎ ‎𖹭 #namjoon x reader

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pedge-stuff · 9 months

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Fic request: Pedro or reader has an intense panic attack in a public. Reader has to talk him through it and calm him down enough so they can leave the event. Holding each other in bed.

clean up, aisle 4 (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," per usual.

thanks, as always, for everything.

summary: sometimes, you deal with the downsides.

——————————————————————————

"I feel like we tried this and didn't like it."

Pedro inspects the back label on the box— some kinda chickpea flour protein pasta 'alternative' that came less-than-highly recommended by his personal trainer— before re-shelving it alongside the other sad, fake noodles.

The grocery store has become a little bit of a minefield. Gladiator 2 prep was exciting, until the rigorous hours in the gym started requiring a specialized diet. He can't eat carbs, you don't eat meat, both of you love frozen pizza, and neither of you really want to participate in the whole classic disordered Hollywood eating thing. And yet, here you are.

Home-cooked meals have consisted mostly of roasted vegetables and dry, baked proteins. You're attempting to eat "clean" in solidarity with him, but...

"We don't need pasta," Pedro laments, turning away from the shelving altogether. "What's left?"

You pull the notes-app list back up. "Whatever kind of frozen fruit you want for smoothies, plus pitted dates. I'd love those wasabi almonds from last month, but I dunno if they have them again. We could get Skinny Pop, if you want it?"

A grimace. "That's fine."

"We don't have to get it, Pedge."

"It's fine, really. We need something for the movie tonight, right?"

His shoulders slump as he pushes the cart onwards. The back right wheel is making a little squeaking sound, sharp and grating on your last damn nerve. This grocery store feels more and more like a minefield with every aisle turn. The balance between supporting Pedro in his training, and wanting him to just say fuck it and be happy, feels entirely precarious.

"Almonds," Pedro mutters, veering right, around an obnoxiously large Goldfish display and the toddler sobbing loudly in front of it. An obstacle course of bright lights and loud sounds. "Almonds, almonds—"

"Ohmygod, Pedro Pascal."

Immediately, no. Two college-aged, tri delta-looking, fresh-from-the-salon type girls, grinning like they'd won the damn lottery. Fans— no one he actually knows says "Pay-drow."

The wheel squeaks again as they grind to a forceful halt; the girls are standing directly in the path of the cart.

"Should we ask for a picture?" They speak at full volume, to each other, as if he isn't standing right in front of them.

"We have to, for the gram. Oh my god."

"Maybe Deuxmoi will pick it up."

Pedro grimaces as they start rummaging for their phones. He's always generous with his time— sometimes a little too generous, so concerned with hurting peoples' feelings that he'll take selfies through the drive-thru window, or walking the dogs. Even one memorable time, pumping gas.

Only at night, lights off, tucked away, does he ever confess his frustrations. As though he should not want privacy; as though being grateful was more important than being safe. Guilt eats him in ways that you alone cannot heal. All you can do is hold him a little tighter.

A phone is thrust towards you. "Can you take a picture of us?"

Before either of you can react, one girl has her arm over Pedro's shoulder. The other, on his waist. He's never been one to shy away from affection— had been pushing the cart single-handedly, with the other on the small of your back, since the dairy section— but that intimacy does not extend to strangers.

They are laughing, chattering— something about Game of Thrones. You distinctly make out so sexy and slay.

But you hardly register them, instead frowning at your partner as you snap a couple pics without looking. He is frozen, eyes fixed somewhere past you, though he offers a wan smile for the camera. Answers a question you can't hear with a half-hearted laugh, before gesturing to the next aisle. A polite gesture, too far from the fuck off on the tip of your tongue.

Pedro attempts to move away, but the girl's arm is still snaked around his waist. Trapped. She reaches to wrap the other around, attempting to encircle him in a teddy bear-style hug. This, here, is the limit.

With a rough, jerky motion, he forces her off of him. "Sorry, sorry," he says quickly. "We need to go."

"But—"

If you push the cart, and it happens to roll over a perfectly manicured foot, well...

Pedro is a few paces ahead of you, stalking towards the almonds like they owe him a grave debt. His fists clench and unclench at his side.

Not good.

His tells for a panic attack are well-catalogued in your brain. You push the cart to one side, mouthing an apology to the man you almost plow down, before approaching Pedro with caution. His chest heaves as he frowns at the Blue Diamond display, breaths noticeably shallow.

"Pedro." Fighting muscle memory, you don't touch him. Don't want to startle him, though concern burns a hole in your own diaphragm.

"Mm."

"Baby, look at me."

His eyes squeeze shut, instead. "I'm good. I'm good."

"Why don't you go to the car, I'll finish up quick."

"I'm good," he insists, voice cracking.

"It's OK if you're not good."

A hitch in his breath, and Pedro's face crumbles. "Just startled me, is all," he whispers, brown eyes pooling remorsefully. "So stupid. Can't even make it through the fucking supermarket to get my fucking fruits and veggies."

You reach for his hand, lithe fingers prying his clench fist apart. Soothe the red-crescent divots in his palm with the pad of your thumb. Wait for him to continue, as if you're not both standing in the middle of the nuts-candy-and-coffee section.

"Everything is just a lot right now," Pedro says, dragging in a shaky but deeper inhale. His other hand swipes across his cheek.

Mentally, you catalogue how difficult it would be to return the items in your cart; how fast you could retrace your steps, and rush the man home.

You bring his palm to your lips, instead. "Go take a smoke," you suggest. "And then we can get the fuck outta here."

"Someone's gonna post it online again. Everyone's talking about how I reek of cigarettes."

"You have reeked of cigarettes as long as I've known you. They are late to this." Tugging playfully on the hand you still hold, you wait for him to crack the barest, thinest of smiles.

"You still love me, though."

"Enough to fight off anyone else who tries to dry-hump you in this Whole Foods."

Slowly, you both retreat to the abandoned cart. "Can we—" Pedro stops himself, unsure of how to ask.

"Whatever it is, babe, yes."

He pushes forward. "What if I was asking if we could get naked right now and run through the supermarket parking lot so people would think we were crazy and leave us alone forever?"

"Then I'd start untying my shoes. It'd be hard to pull my jeans over 'em."

The wasabi almonds are, finally, pulled from the shelf. You proceed to the freezers. "That's not what I was gonna ask," he admits, grabbing a bag of chunked mango.

"Bummer."

"Can we just get some normal fucking popcorn? If one night's worth of fake butter is what does me in, someone else can be the Gladiator, I give up."

For him? Anything.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #din djarin x reader #din djarin #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the mandolorian

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yuzurujenn · 13 days

Text

[2024.05.01] GQ Japan x Yuzuru Hanyu - JUNE ISSUE

Yuzuru Hanyu’s Challenge

After winning two consecutive Olympic gold medals, Yuzuru Hanyu, who turned professional in 2022, is taking on a new form of expression: an ice show that the produced entirely on his own. The extraordinary figure skater danced in front of the cameras, dressed in items designed by Gucci’s new creative director, Sabato de Sarno.

Photographs by Taro Mizutani Styled by Tetsuro Nagase Hair styled by TAKU VOW-VOW FOR CUTTERS Makeup by COCO SEKIKAWA OFFICE Words by Kosuke Kawakami

The unique path that Yuzuru Hanyu walks After entering the studio and exchanging a few words with photographer Taro Mizutani, Yuzuru Hanyu operated his smartphone as if convinced of something. A gentle piano piece played from the speakers. It was ‘aqua’, a piece composed for his daughter by Ryuichi Sakamoto, who passed away last year. Moving his body flexibly, as if surrendering to the music, the studio had transformed into a beautiful, dignified and tense space that no one could step into.

“When I saw the lighting directly above me, I thought it looked like the sun, like light from heaven. Mr. Mizutani also said, ‘I want you to look up. I want you to look up and think about something’. I thought it feels like a prayer, so I chose ‘aqua’ because it fits the image".

As a figure skater, he was won all sorts of accolades, including two consecutive Olympic titles, two World Championships, and four consecutive Grand Prix Final titles. He has also received the People’s Honor Award. In 2022, he became a professional skater in order to ‘pursue the ideal of Yuzuru Hanyu’. Since then, he has held numerous self-produced ice shows and solo performances at Tokyo Dome, Saitama Super Arena, and other venues.

“Even though I turned professional, I don’t think my fundamentals have changed. The world I’ve always wanted to express, the artistic nature of figure skating and the athletic aspect of it has not changed. During competitions, there are always rules and there are times when I had to perform in a certain way. But in the world of shows, I have to satisfy the audience in 360-degree, I have to use my brain to create the videos that will be played at the venue and I have to think about the words that I want to convey. I am expanding and deepening my thoughts to areas that I have not considered before.”

Just as a musician plays music and an artist uses a paintbrush, Hanyu uses his body to express himself.

“What’s fun about it is that when everyone watches it, I get to see a lot of different opinions, people think about it in different ways and each person interprets it in their own way. What I'm doing, I believe that what I am creating is a ‘path’. The values, background, past, future, and so on become the path, and along the way, one may notice something or feel something. I want the audience to see it and share it. I’m really happy when people say that they enjoyed the journey and are glad that they walked the path. That makes me happy and that’s why I feel like I can continue on this path”.

When asked if he thinks it’s more fun now that he can express and create freely than in the competitive days when he was bound by rules and forced to compete, Hanyu thought for a while and then denied it.

“I don’t think it’s good enough just to feel fun. Ever since my competitive days, I’ve always believed that competitions aren’t about having fun, and I’ve never wavered from that philosophy of mine. There are some people who say you can only perform well if you enjoy it, and I understand why people think that’s the right answer. But for me, if I have fun, I feel like I’m not being serious enough. There is a certain kind of performance that comes out because of the tension, and that is what allows me to train hard every day. Even in the creative field, when it comes to creating something, it is not good just to have fun. Of course, it’s possible because there’s also fun in it, and I’m able to create because someone sees it and enjoys it, which brings me joy and happiness. But if I continue to only feel fun, I may end up with just empty words and a false worldview with no depth.

Hanyu says that he feels he lacks ‘vocabulary’ as an artist.

“Vocabulary is also necessary for physical expression. If I want to show a scene just by moving my hands a little, I need to know the techniques to do so. I have to learn how to move my hands in such a way that it looks beautiful, and engrave it in my body. Let my nerves learn it, let my brain study it, and eventually I will be able to do it. It’s not like I can dance like a professional dancer or ballerina, but I’ve been figure skating for more than 20 years. Because of this, I have the potential to create new expressions by learning their techniques. I believe that if I study hard and able to do it on the ice, I will become a unique presence”.

There is no goal, no rivals to compete with. Yet, without hesitation, he continues on his own path.

“Being on the ice is like my ‘native language’ (laughs), so if I move away from it, I am no longer Yuzuru Hanyu. The knowledge, experience and soul I’ve cultivated since I was four years old are there, a place where I can express myself from the bottom of my heart. Of course, I’ll probably start to decline as I age, but if I continue to use the language of figure skating for another 30 years, there may be a form of expression that can only be created at that particular time and age. I believe there is such a possibility, and I think I must continue to strive for that possibility”.

Yuzuru Hanyu, as the one and only Yuzuru Hanyu, continues to move forward focusing on expression on the ice.

GQ Japan - June 2024 issue, released on 2024.05.01 (auto-translation with some editing)

More: 1 https://twitter.com/GQJAPAN/status/1782938296944857402 2 https://twitter.com/GQJAPAN/status/1785448080340337135 3 https://twitter.com/GQJAPAN/status/1783692480782704746

Full article published online on 8th May 2024: https://www.gqjapan.jp/article/20240508-yuzuru-hanyu-cover-story

#hanyu yuzuru #yuzuru hanyu #羽生結弦 #figure skating #gucci #gq japan #interview #translation

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dreamescapeswriting · 1 year

Text

Making It Work ~ MYG

⤜WORD COUNT: 3.9K

⤜PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

GENRE: angst, angst with a soft and happy ending, divorce proceedings, breakups, love, cute, sweet

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

A/N: I wanted to go with a way that wouldn’t be impossible for reader and Yoongi to get back together, so I hope this is okay for you my love.

Today was the day that you hadn’t exactly been looking forward to for the last two months and now that it was finally here you were dreading every second of it. Divorces were a messy situation for everyone in the world but you'd been in luck when Yoongi had asked for it not to go to a large court. The two of you were going to settle everything inside of a solicitor's office, in front of a judge and all of the right witnesses. That also meant you didn't have to deal with screaming fans nor did you have to deal with flashing cameras, everything that was happening within your divorce seemed to be kept on the down low which you respected Yoongi for doing which made this a little easier. Not that this was ever going to be easy to deal with but not having to deal with a huge court of people did make it easier to manage.

“Miss Yln, do you have your witness?” The judge asked as she looked up from her file and in your direction, your eyes looked away from the door as you turned to stare at her. Janet - the judge - had been accommodating of your situation with Yoongi and was doing everything within her power to make sure you both could do this amicably. That was the thing, even though you and Yoongi were getting a divorce from one another, there was no bad blood, no fighting over who got to keep the house or who got some of the money or shared custody over your dog...everything had just been simple and nice which worried you a little. Did Yoongi care that little that he would rather have this over and done with? Or was it simply that he just wanted you to move on and give you whatever you wanted? It was so hard to read him when you didn't see him anymore. God, you hadn't even seen him since the day you'd walked out on him.

“Yes, my friend Chan.” You answered her, glancing over at your shoulder to see Chan sitting in his seat with a warm smile on his face. Ever since the breakup with Yoongi Chan had been the one person in your life you could turn to whenever you needed something. The man had been there from the moment you’d walked out of your shared home with Yoongi and decided to go through the divorce. You'd been staying with Chan and his roommates for a while until you felt comfortable going back home and it was nice to have a friend there that wasn't directly in contact with Yoongi.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Chan." She smiled a little turning her attention back to you as she directed the last question,

"Do you know where Mr Min is?” You glanced down at your phone to check the time, it was way past the time he was supposed to be here and you knew he was either caught up in work or traffic. It was always the thing he would blame whenever he was late for something important. Like your anniversary dinner, the whole reason this divorce was happening was because of Yoongi’s addiction to his work.

“You knew what this day meant to me Yoongi and yet you still didn’t bother to show up, not even a text to let me know where you were,” You stared at your boyfriend who was in his usual spot in his studio, hunched over the desk with his earphones on one ear and not the other. The same spot he'd been in two nights ago when you came to remind him about your family coming to visit you.

“I got busy,” Yoongi merely grumbled without saying anything else to you about it, his eyes never leaving the screen not even for a second to look in your direction. It was as if he had no idea what the day even was which broke you even more. There was a time in your relationship when Yoongi would drop everything to spend time with you and now it felt as though you were constantly putting in all of the effort only to meet resistance.

“Do you know what today was?” You quizzed, placing one hand on your hip and waiting for him to turn and look at you. One look would inform him that you were dressed in formal attire and that tonight was your anniversary, not only an anniversary but the day your family were all coming to your house to have a nice formal meal with the two of you. Yet, your husband hadn’t even bothered to show up to meet his family-in-law nor had he wished you a happy anniversary.

“Yeah. that meal with your family. But I’ve had other stuff on my mind-” Yoongi had spun on his chair a little to see you and he stopped speaking when he saw what you were wearing. You looked completely breathtaking and he smiled a little, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he took in the sight of you. There was no denying that you looked completely hot in what you were wearing and he let out a low growl at the sight of you.

“Our anniversary,” You told him plainly, ignoring the way your heart was racing at the way he was checking you out. You didn’t care that he found you hot right now, all you cared about was the fact that he had missed your anniversary and made you look like a fool in front of your family and the restaurant the meal had been at.

“No, our anniversary is the 30th and-” Yoongi shook his head at you, he would know when his own anniversary was, he'd had it written down on the desk calendar.

“Yoongi, it is the 30th,” You mumbled, scoffing a little as you shook your head and looked up at the ceiling trying not to let the tears completely take over. If you cried in front of him you'd feel completely weak and that was the last thing you wanted. Right now, you wanted him to come home and let all of this go so you could at least spend the night of your anniversary together. But he didn't even move from his desk, he just shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. For a while now it felt as though Yoongi didn’t give a shit about you or anything that was going on in your life, every day felt like a losing battle and you were finally having enough. This had been the straw that broke the camel's back so to say.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’ve been so busy lately I didn’t even realise what date we were on,” He sighed, running his hands through his long unkempt hair. Normally you would have dragged him out for a haircut by now and made sure he was looking after himself but it was hard to even get to see him with how busy he was and how stubborn he was when it came to working. You knew things would be like this with Yoongi and you’d signed up for that when you’d agreed to marry him, you knew there were going to be good and bad days but right now it seemed there were bad then there ever was good.

“But you’re not, if you were sorry you wouldn’t keep doing this.” You gestured around his studio as you drank in everything that was going on inside. There were blankets all over the sofa letting you know that he was sleeping there - which you knew already since you were waking up to an empty bed every morning. Then there were the takeout containers left over the spare sides, the stubble on your husband's face and the sloppy state of him.

“I have to get this work done, you knew this when you agreed to marry me,” He grumbled, throwing his vows back at you. Part of his handwritten vows was about you accepting that his work was important to him. Something you'd agreed to and accepted for years now but it didn't make it any easier to see Yoongi harming his mental and physical health for a bit of music.

“Yes, I knew that. I also knew that you knew when to take a break and weren’t going to go into burnout all of the time,” You snapped angrily, you didn’t want to get so angry with him but it was difficult when your own husband couldn’t see what he was doing to himself and his marriage.

“You’re prioritising your work before yourself. When was the last time you showered?” You stared at his greasy hair and then down at his beard, it was as if he didn't care what he looked like as long as he got his work done. Something, that you'd come to notice over the years, was something he did right before having a burnout. The last thing Yoongi needed right now was to be burnt out at work, you needed him to come home where he could relax just a little.

“I can smell you from here. You need to shower, put yourself before your work for once-”

“I can do whatever I want, I need to get this finished.” He snarled, turning back to his computer and sliding the second headphone back onto his head without hitting play on anything. You stared at the screen as you realised he wasn't composing or even listening to anything and you shook your head.

“You need to look after yourself,” You breathed out, moving to stand closer to him as he shook his head at you. Yoongi didn't want to to fight right now, he was about an hour's work away from finishing the songs he needed to do and then he would go home.

“What I need is for my wife to leave me alone while I finish working on something that earns us both money,” He hissed out at you, your heart clenched inside of your chest. Yoongi had snapped at you about leaving him alone before but never like this,

“You used to love me taking care of you,” You laughed dryly, moving around the office as you began to put take-out containers into a bin, trying your best to clean up the place even a little so he could start the process looking after himself.

“You used to let me come and see you every day, bring you food and make sure you showered,” You stared at him as he continued to work on something, either playing ignorant to what you were saying or he really couldn’t hear you over the music. You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head as you moved closer to his desk and stretching your hand out to take the mug that was beside his keyboard, only he moved suddenly making you jump and knock the mug - and its contents - all over the pages that were on the desk.

“Shit,” you hissed out, watching as the coffee started to stain the pages, smudging the ink that was all over them.

“What the fuck! What the fuck are you doing?!” He yelled, jumping up from his desk and grabbing the sheets, shaking them and letting the coffee splatter everywhere inside of the room while you shook your head,

“It was an accident, I was just trying to clean up and help-”

“I don’t need your help,” He grumbled staring at the music sheets in his hands that were now completely unreadable and ruined thanks to you.

“You say that every time but you know you need me Yoongi. You just don’t-”

“I don’t need you anymore! I’m fine on my own!” He yelled out at you, staring you in the eyes as you felt the burn of every word scoring into your veins and making its way directly to your heart.

“Yeah? Then I guess you don’t need a wife anymore!” You quipped at him, hoping that maybe he would see the error in what he'd said to you.

“Maybe I don’t!” He screamed at you, and you were quick to leave the room, slamming the door behind you praying he would follow after you but he never did.

You thought - back then - that maybe things would blow over and that the two of you would kiss and makeup but it never happened. Yoongi stopped replying to you and the two of you gave up on everything you’d been building together for almost nine years and said to get a divorce.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, your honour. I can call-” You didn’t have a chance to finish what you were saying when the door burst open and a very sweaty-looking Yoongi appeared to be standing there. While he was dressed smartly it didn’t match the rest of him, his hair was a mess and far too long for him, he had a beard growing and not to mention there were bags under his eyes letting you know he hadn’t been sleeping yet again. A pang of guilt took over you as you saw him, you knew you shouldn’t care that he was like this but you couldn’t help it. You still loved Yoongi with every part of your body and nothing was ever going to change that for you, even if you were getting a divorce.

“I’m sorry your honour, I was running late because of my alarm and then traffic was bad so I got out and ran here,” You stared at Yoongi as he spoke to the judge but only looked in your direction, his eyes never leaving you while your heart raced against your chest. It felt as though you’d just finished running here and not the other way around, Yoongi's mouth ran dry as soon as he saw you standing there. He'd been getting texts from Chan for the last two months with updates about you, he wanted to know how you were doing and if you were truly okay with this divorce and while Chan told him you seemed fine you never were.

It was always going to be hard letting go of someone you'd loved for so long and if truth be told, you didn't even want to go through with all of this.

“Sit down and we will proceed.” The judge motioned for him to take a seat opposite you but Yoongi didn’t move an inch, he just stared at you and shook his head. If this was really going to be the last time he would get to see you he needed to get his feelings out onto the table and stop avoiding them.

“Can I have a moment with her?” He questioned, glancing in the direction of the judge and back to Yoongi. It was as though he was scared you would disappear if he looked away for too long.

“A moment?” The judge asked, arching an eyebrow at the two of you while you slowly looked away from Yoongi, trying not to let yourself get too caught up in him, Chan leant forward on his chair to check on you.

“You okay?” He whispered as Yoongi continued to ask for some time with you, his voice shaking a lot as you nodded your head at Chan. He knew you'd been wanting to avoid being alone with Yoongi for a while but now Yoongi was here and he wanted to be alone you wanted the exact same thing.

“Fine, you should go and let the boys know you’ll be late,” You whispered to him, letting him leave the room along with the judge and lawyers that had been waiting for Yoongi to arrive. Everyone had been on time for this except for him but Yoongi didn’t even care. It was all true about him being late and the reason. The alarm hadn’t woken him up because, for the first time in months, he’d finally gotten the sleep he had been desperately needing.

“Yn,” He breathed out, sitting beside you and placing his hands on top of yours, enjoying the way a spark went through both of you. It might have been two months since he’d gotten to speak to you or even be in the same room as you but every feeling he had for you was still there.

“Yoongi, you show up late and you kick them out? What’s going on with you?” Your eyebrows knitted together as you drank him in, shaking your head as you got a closer look at him. The need to be closer to him was eating you up inside, the need to be near him and be held by him eating you away one bit at a time.

“I need you to come back, don’t sign the papers,” Your heart practically stopped beating inside of your chest. This whole thing had been his idea, the divorce was his idea to get and now he was asking you this.

“What?” Your voice cracked, barely able to hold up the question as you stared at him, your eyes scanning over his face for any sign that this was some kind of sick joke from him. Or maybe this was all a nightmare and you hadn't even woken up yet to get to the solicitor's office.

“Don’t sign the papers, don’t…please..please just don’t,” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, there was a pleading tone in his voice as he begged for you not to do this. For weeks now he'd been wondering how he was going to get you out of doing this, to come back to him after he'd been the one to push you away but all of this time apart confirmed one thing in his mind.

There was no way on this planet, or another...or even in another universe that he was ever going to be able to live without you.

“You don’t know what you’re saying Yoongi,” You murmured, sliding your hands out from him but he was quick to grab them and hold them against his chest, looking deep into your eyes as he searched for any sign that you still loved him.

“I do, I need you…Okay? I was an idiot to go through all of this and I realise that now,” He pleaded with you, his voice breaking with each word that he spoke.

“You don’t need me to remember, you said it yourself.” You tried to take your hands back but he wasn’t allowing them to budge no matter how hard you tried.

“I was an idiot Yn, please.” You shook your head at him, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks as you stated at him, this was all too little to late. Maybe if he'd come to you a few weeks ago this could have been different but you were about to sign the final papers, the final goodbye to one another.

“We’re about to sign the final papers,” You stared down at the papers on the table in front of you, everything had been agreed to between you and the lawyers. Janet had even said it was the easiest divorce she'd ever had to bare witness to.

“And I am begging you not to, I’ll do anything,” he whispered to you, your eyes staring back at him as you tried to sense if any of this was real if he even meant what he was saying. You couldn't go back to the way it was before, watching him ruin his body for the sake of work.

“Yoongi…” You trailed off, your hand slowly being released from his grasp as you ran it over his cheek, sighing when you watched him leaning into your touch and enjoying the way it felt to have you close. This was all yoongi had been thinking about for months, he’d done nothing but miss you from the moment he willingly let you walk out of his office.

“I should have chased after you that day,” He told you as you stared at him, your breathing getting caught in your throat as you watched him.

“You should have,” you laughed weakly, you’d wanted him to come after you and tell you he took everything he said back that day but he never did. He never showed up, not even back at the house when you were there.

“You never came back to tell me you didn’t mean it,” You whispered, your eyes screwed tightly shut as you shook your head.

“You didn’t come back either,” Yoongi shuffled closer to you, running his thumb under your eyes to stop the tears from falling but it only caused them to fall faster.

“Because I was exhausted and upset Yoongi. It was our anniversary,” your voice cracked and he nodded his head, he knew he'd done wrong and that it was going to take a lot more than a simple "I'm sorry" to fix everything that happened between you but he was going to give it his all.

“I fucked up badly, and I know there’s no coming back from it but I want to try and move on from it. I don’t want to lose you,” you stared at him as he pleaded with you, a small knock coming from the door.

“Not everything can be fixed with a simple apology” You moved away from him and shook your head, using the sleeve of your blazer to wipe under your eyes and shake your head at him.

“So then we work on things, every day. We go to counselling, we get help and we work through this together,” You stared at him again and swallowed the lump in your throat, the knocking on the door getting louder, you had no double that it was probably Chan wanting to know what was going on.

“Let's try it again…if you want to?” Yoongi suggested as he stared at you, you wanted to, you wanted to do everything to make it work with Yoongi again so you nodded your head.

“Let's do it,” You whispered as he smiled brightly, staring at you before wrapping you in a tight embrace, your shoulders relaxed completely as you started to cry into his shoulder. After all this time it still felt incredible to be with him.

“Shall I let the judge know?” chan chuckled from the doorway as you nodded and sniffled, rubbing your eyes as you let yourself relax in Yoongi's arms.

“You’re late, you’re late for a very important date,” Yoongi teased as you rushed into the room and panted heavily, traffic had been a nightmare getting here and your boss had managed to make you stay later than anticipated.

“Makes a change, it’s normally you,” You smirked at him, dropping down onto the sofa beside him and laying your head down on his shoulder and trying to catch your breath.

“Shh,” He whines, tickling your sides and pulling you closer to him. The two of you were here for your monthly session with your couples therapist, who was discharging you from their service as of today. It had been a rough nine months that the two of you were going through but every single second had been worth it now that you were making your marriage work with one another,

“Love you,” You giggled, leaning up to kiss his cheek quickly before the door opened and you were both ready for your last session together.

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wil-o-wispy · 21 days

Text

The Wife, the Lover, and the Bastard Son - Part 4

Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (he'll be in the next part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (You are here)

Summary: Your past comes back to haunt you in more ways than you thought possible.

Contents: Major spoilers for RE6, canon typical violence/swearing, mentions of blood being drawn, improper use of a syringe as an improvised weapon, angsty Jake content, angsty plot content, descriptions of blood and violence, dialogue heavy chapter. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' and is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.

a/n: Hey peeps. It's me ya boi. I regret nothing for the events that are about to unfold. Thanks for reading :)

w/c: 10.8k+

There is no feasible way out of the cell that you’re confined in. After an indiscernible amount of time being unconscious from the gas released in the specimen room, you woke up here. As far as prisons go, it’s not half bad; a spacious white chamber with a basic cot with white sheets in the middle of the room. In the corner across from it is a security camera with a red light. What makes this room different from your handful of previous kidnapping quarters, are the metal shutters to the right of the entrance to the room that takes up the entirety of the wall. Given the room you were in reminded you of chambers for infected test subjects, there was a likely chance you were being observed through the camera on the other side of the wall.

There’s a second difference as well. You woke up with the crook of your arm wrapped in gauze and a cotton swab. These people had drawn blood from you while you were knocked out. Probably to test if you were compatible for the new virus you’re sure they’re making.

All you can do is wait and see if you’re right.

You aren’t too worried about your involuntary confinement. Not yet anyway. These people evidently want you alive and in one piece. You’re not too sure if Jake would be given the same courtesy though. If he was as skilled as he said he was, you would be willing to bet he was already long gone. If that boy had any sense, he would be trying to find a radio right now to signal for help.

You don’t have to wait too long with your thoughts. A short time after, you hear white noise hum from the speaker and the familiar higher pitched male voice echoes around the chamber.

“Good day, Dr. Wesker.” The voice is the same one you heard from the thin silhouetted man when you first arrived. He speaks in a slow, deliberate tone.

“Hello.” You answer back looking directly into the camera, keeping your tone neutral.

“I understand you had a little -detour- on the way to your room.”

“I did.”

“I would encourage you not to indulge in your wanderlust again, but you strike me as the type to take that as a challenge.”

You narrow your eyes at the camera and purse your lips. You don’t want to give anything away that would confirm the man’s assumption is correct. When you continue to be silent, the man speaks again.

“Forgive me, we haven’t made a proper introduction. I am Youju, one of the head researchers for Neo Umbrella. Welcome to my facility.”

You can’t find it in you to even care who he is. It doesn’t matter in the grand scope of things. As far as you’re concerned, Umbrella (or Neo Umbrella) was still just a terrorist organization that made bioorganic weapons. You don’t care about the specifics of what that means unless it’s relevant to preventing an outbreak.

“Will you just cut to the chase?”

There’s a pause from the speaker. “Pardon?”

You sigh and cross your arms, still looking into the camera. “I’ve done this song and dance multiple times and I have no patience for the dramatics anymore. What do you want?”

Silence from the speaker. You let out an annoyed huff.

“Do you have a new virus you want to test out on me? An old one you revamped? I’ve been proposed with job offers before but I’m letting you know right now-”

“No, no miss. Your purpose here today is much more… personal.”

That can’t be good.

“So I’m here for revenge? You’re going to have to specify. Albert had a lot of enemies, and I couldn’t be bothered to keep up with them.”

“You misunderstand what I mean when I say personal.” You can hear an underlying tone of deviousness in that statement. Youju continues.

“Tell me doctor, how have I gone all these years without knowing Albert Wesker had a son?”

You stand in stunned silence. Wesker? A father? The thought makes you want to laugh in disbelief. The only thing that stops you from doing so is the confidence in Youju’s voice.

What kind of ploy is this?

Is he trying to get you to admit a secret you don’t even have? You spend the next few moments thinking over what the man had just said, when you hear him tap the mic, which results in your ears being assaulted with high pitched feedback and you reflexively covering your ears.

“I’m not a patient man, doctor. Answer me.” Youju’s words are drawn out with a mocking, sing-song voice.

You lower your hands and stare directly into the camera, making a conscious effort to keep your tone even. “We never had any kids.”

Silence falls over the chamber again. Long enough that you think Youju must have left. However, you hear his voice again, but this time you hear a smile in his words.

“… well this is quite an interesting development. I have someone I want to introduce you to. Mrs. Wesker.”

The tone in his voice clearly indicates he doesn’t believe you.

A deep metallic click sounds through the chamber before the metal shutters next to you begin to raise themselves up, groaning their whole journey to the ceiling. As they ascend, the shutters reveal a window to another room. Although surprisingly, there aren’t any Neo Umbrella personnel behind the glass. Instead, the panels reveal an identical chamber to yours, except it’s Jake on the other side of the glass sitting on the bed and leaning on his knees. The bottoms of his pants are covered in dark mud, a part of his sleeve looks scorched, and there’s a sizeable gash on his temple that had scabbed over next to his buzzed ginger hair. Blood that has long since dried had trickled down next to the large diagonal scar on the left side of his face. In other words, he’s much worse for wear than the last time you saw him. Whoever came into the room to investigate the alarm really did a number on him.

You see a discarded bundle of gauze with a slightly bloody cotton ball in Jake’s room. These people took blood from him too.

That grating voice over the loudspeaker interrupts your thoughts.

“Mr. Muller! I hope you’re finding your accommodations acceptable.”

Acceptable was a stretch, but at least your rooms had the bare necessities. You can’t say the same for your past accommodations with other organizations.

Jake shrugs and leans back, taking a look around the room. You hear his voice come from a hidden speaker near the window.

“Not bad, asshole. Feels like I’m shacking up at the Shitz Carlton.”

You would have smiled at that if that nagging sense of familiarity from earlier wasn’t still wracking your brain.

Where have I seen him before?

Youju quips back with that knowing tone over the speaker. “Even when corned in the lion’s den, you still have something witty to bite back with. Just like your father so I’m told.”

Jake’s carefree demeanor grows more rigid; shoulders squared, clenched jaw and sharpened expression. The man’s family is a sensitive subject.

“Where are my manners? Dr. Wesker have you had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Muller?”

It was hard to tell, but you could have sworn you saw Jake perk up at hearing your dreaded last name. You stare at him a moment longer.

“Can’t say I have before today.”

“Really? Are you certain?” The way Youju says that makes it seems like he’s trying to make you doubt an obvious answer to a trivia question. You stare at Jake, and he stares back, unblinking.

You turn back towards the camera.

“I would remember the scar. I haven’t met this man.”

“Interesting. Why don’t you look closer?”

The man from the speaker obviously wants to get some sort of point across to you, so you humor him. Sighing and shifting your weight, you turn to Jake. You look past the grime, the evidence of fights lost, and modern clothes.

You look at his face, his eyes…

You stop breathing.

You thought about what Youju had said before. Albert Wesker had a son.

Your mind races with a cacophony of scrambled thoughts over the next few seconds.

How did these people figure out Wesker had a son before you did? He looks like him. How did he go this long without being discovered? It’s likely Jake’s blood is special like Albert’s, so they’d want a promising candidate for virus injections. Who is his mother?

You don’t know where it comes from in the moment, but all you can picture is a displeased Albert holding a ginger headed baby, with his nice work shirt covered in spit up while another woman takes a picture and laughs.

It starts as a giggle, but the longer you think about this scenario, the more ridiculous the thought becomes and the harder it becomes to keep your shoulders still.

“So tell me doctor, what are your thoughts?” Youju replies smugly, waiting for your response.

You can’t help it. You start laughing like an insane woman. Jake’s existence was the cherry on top of an already stressful situation. Your body is exhausted from the journey here, you’re still processing the emotional whiplash from seeing and destroying the Uroboros sample, you’re mentally and emotionally done with everything that could possibly relate to Wesker and now you find out he has a son that isn’t yours? You just find the whole situation so absurd that you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

It's clear that Youju doesn’t find your reaction amusing. His tone is cold and controlled when he speaks next. “Enlighten me Wesker, what could possibly be so funny?”

When you finally catch your breath, you look at the camera again with tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.

“This… establishment is really scraping the bottom of the barrel for bright and promising imbeciles, aren’t they?”

Silence, then the sound of a throat being cleared.

“Oh really? And why is that?”

Youju’s voice is flat. Controlled. You had struck something sensitive, and you intend to use it to your advantage to get a moment alone with Jake.

“Because this is ridiculous! Albert Wesker? A father- his father? Are we talking about the same Wesker?”

“His blood sample suggests otherwise-”

“And how do you know that exactly?”

Silence.

You let out a deranged cackle.

“I think I understand now. You found this stranger helping me in the middle of your ocean getaway, you thought he looked like Wesker, and your only plausible conclusion was that he has to be my son. So you’re comparing his DNA to mine because Wesker’s genome is impossible to find. Is that it?”

Youju struggles to stay composed under a guise of false confidence.

“Well we… any reputable institution would confirm hypotheses by… conducting their own independent tests and gathering their samples directly from the source.”

You hum and step a little closer to the camera.

“You know, Umbrella used to check their homework before going through the trouble of kidnapping persons of interest. Just goes to show that the copy is always going to be a letdown from the original.” You made sure to look straight into the camera when you say that, and it has the desired effect.

“You…I-I’ll know you’re lying one way or another soon Wesker!” Unlike before, there was no trace of confident humor. Instead, the voice spits out the words with prideful fury.

“Then by all means, do it. Waste everyone’s time. Hell, I’ll even volunteer for another blood sample when it comes back negative.”

It’s silent for a long time until the white noise from the speaker cuts out and all you can hear is the fluorescent lights above you.

You hear a muffled voice on the other side of the glass. “Hey Wesker!” Youju must have switched off the window speaker.

You let out a sharp breath through your nose. You turn to the window. Jake stands there, forearm resting on the glass above his head and observing you like a slide under a microscope. “Like I told you before, just Doc is fine.” You respond, annoyed.

You look up at the camera and see its beady red light still trained on you. You look between the camera and Jake. No use being stealthy. You walk over to the window with a determined look on your face, already in problem solving mode.

“We both know that test is going to come back negative.”

“Uh huh… and?” Jake responds, unimpressed.

“Personnel are going to come back eventually for another sample. Make it count and make it hurt although based on your current state-” You gesture to Jakes muddy and burnt clothes. “-your technique needs some work.”

Jake scowls. “My ‘technique’ is just fine.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

It doesn’t take too long for your assumption to come true. After a long stretch of time that you try to fill by pacing your room, you hear several sets of footsteps outside the room. A moment later, you see two men in lab coats accompanied by one guard armed with an electric baton and one armed with a pistol enter Jake’s room on the other side of the glass.

Jake deals with them in a similar quick and efficient fashion to what you saw before when you first met him, except his moves are much more violent and incensed. Nothing like the cool and confident rescuer you first thought him to be.

The men in lab coats gesture for Jake to roll up his sleeve. Jake complies and one of the men puts a band on his upper arm to cut off blood flow. When the other man goes to do the blood draw, Jake grabs the syringe and plunges it into the man’s eye, causing to scream in pain and stumble back. The other scientist is frozen in fear as the two guards spring into action. The guard with the baton reaches Jake first, but he’s prepared to duck under the guard’s wide swing and he easily kicks the guard’s feet out from under him in one graceful move. As soon as the guard’s body hits the floor, Jake wastes no time grabbing the back of his head and chin and forcing his neck to an unnatural angle, immediately making the guard go limp.

The other guard is yelling something in that unfamiliar language while pointing his gun at Jake, but Jake doesn’t even acknowledge it as he charges at him with full speed. The guard is only able to shoot once, barely missing his shot, before Jake unleashes a flurry of blows, his skill in hand-to-hand combat evident in the way he dodges all the guard’s attempts at defense with ease.

While Jake is busy with the other guard, the remaining scientist finally comes to his senses and begins to run out of the room. But by the time he makes it to the door of Jake’s chamber, Jake has already disarmed and shot the other guard in the head. By the time the scientist opens the door, Jake has already lined his shot up perfectly and shoots the scientist dead in his tracks, blood leaking from the bullet wound on the back of his head.

The sight in the other room is grisly, but nothing you’re not already used to from the lifestyle you’ve lived. Once the last scientist is taken care of, you knock on the window to get Jake’s attention. He turns to you, breathing heavily and ripping off the rubber armband from earlier.

“Grab all their keycards! Can’t hurt to have them just in case.”

Jake nods and grabs the keycards from all the bodies, then exits the room. Shortly after, there’s a ping from your door and it opens to reveal Jake on the other side of it.

“Let me see?” You request, briskly walking outside the room and holding out your hand for the keycards. Jake plops them in your hand, looking at you closely. You ignore it and flip through the keycards, trying to discern security level but failing because the only difference between the two are the colors; red for the scientists and black for the guards. You halve them and give one of each back to Jake, which he pockets. He’s still holding the pistol he got from the guard at his side.

“Guess we’ll find out which have higher clearance when the time comes.”

Jake is still looking at you with that analyzing expression. “So you-” Jake is interrupted by an ear piercing alarm and the room is bathed in a foreboding red light.

“Time to move!” Jake grabs your upper arm before you can protest and runs out a door and down the hallway, half dragging you behind him while you struggle to keep up with his pace. You don’t know where you’re running to and Jake doesn’t appear to know either. You both keep running until you reach a four-way hallway where the alarm isn’t as loud and the lights are normal. Jake pauses, taking a moment before deciding where to run. You take the opportunity to yank your arm back, rubbing away the sting of Jake’s harsh grip.

“Wait, why aren’t there any guards? Or people?” You say, not quite sure where to go. Maybe it’s residual memories from working at Umbrella, but seeing the nearly identical hallways so empty is setting off alarm bells in your head.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Jake replies, irritated, taking a few steps to look down one of the hallways trying to decide where to go while he holds his pistol defensively, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“There’s no people! You don’t find that weird?”

“We’ve got bigger problems right now!” Jake snaps, looking at you with a cold stare. Not a second later, the ear-piercing alarm cries overhead and the lights flick to red.

“We’re going left.” Jake says, running down the left hallway with you tailing right behind him. As you’re running, you notice the grating on the floor.

You realize it’s like the flooring in the specimen room, and suddenly more details about this place make sense.

There’re no people around because they use the knockout gas as a security measure.

The guards wear gas masks so they don’t lose consciousness during breaches.

The alarms and lights warn employees to get to a safe place or avoid the area.

Unfortunately, you put all of this together in the middle of the hallway when the security doors at both ends light up red, rise up from the floor, and close with loud metallic clicks. You hear loud hissing from below you, and you realize with dreaded clarity that the hallway is starting to fill up with gas.

You quickly scan the hallway and see a door with a red marking on it like the one on the scientist keycard.

“Red door on your right! Move it!” You command, already running to the door, keycard in hand.

You don’t need to tell Jake twice. Jake wastes no time dashing into the suggested room once you scan the card. You follow Jake into the room right on his heels. The second you’re through the threshold of the door, you scan the keycard to close the door and engage the emergency lock, emergency protocols drilled into your head from your time at Umbrella taking over. The door beeps and hisses shut just in time to cut off the gas from invading the room you and Jake just entered. The room appears to be some kind of office with several desks around the room. The alarm on the other side of the door is barely heard in this room. You’re safe. For now.

You take a shaky and labored breath while leaning against the door, trying to get your bearings.

Too close.

Your break is quickly interrupted by an accusatory comment from Jake. “You knew him well, huh?”

You stay silent and finally look at Jake. His expression is a cocktail of anger and frustration, even as he’s trying to catch his breath. You glance at Jake’s hand by his side; he’s gripping his pistol tightly and his face is grim and cold. It doesn’t help that you’re looking at Jake with an exasperated and annoyed look.

“You of all people should know why I don’t freely give out my last name.”

You give Jake a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look and Jake tightens his grip on his pistol as he lifts it a few inches like he’s thinking about aiming it. A few seconds pass and Jake takes a deep breath as he sheathes the pistol.

“Fair enough. But I have questions.”

You let out a crazed laugh and start to feverishly pace the room, still in disbelief at the sudden appearance of your husband’s bastard child. “I’m sure you do! I’ve sure as hell got some!” Your tone comes off as angry, but in reality you’re frustrated.

“I’m not too happy he’s my dad either lady!”

“That’s not- ugh. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just-” You take a breath and try to relax your shoulders, so you don’t snap at Jake again. “The B.S.A.A. and I have a deal. I tell them everything I know, and I help their scientists deal with bioterrorism. In exchange, I’m supposed to get protection and they keep me in the loop. Simple right? But then-” You stop pacing and gesture to Jake. “-I get kidnapped, again, and I find out my dead husband has a whole ass… grown… child! In their organization! That’s a pretty major development if you ask me!”

You stop pacing the room and plop down in a chair and put your head in your hands, then run your hands through your hair. What else aren’t the B.S.A.A telling you? What isn’t Chris telling you? Did he know about this? He has to. You haven’t done anything to your knowledge to warrant them keeping something this big from you. Did they think you’d not take the news well? Take it out on Jake? Leak the information out of misplaced anger for Albert being with another woman?

“I don’t care what kind of bullshit deal you’ve got with the Bioterrorism Boy Scouts. I’ve got questions and I think considering everything, I deserve some fucking answers.” Jake’s steely look from the chamber is trained directly on you.

“You-” You stop. You’re about to tell him now isn’t the time and that you both need to prioritize finding a radio to call for help and come up with an exit plan, but you don’t. You can’t deny that you want to know more about Jake. He’s rightfully demanding answers about a father he presumably never knew. You know the B.S.A.A hasn’t been forthcoming about new information to you, so they probably haven’t disclosed much to Jake. You also know they won’t be too pleased about you spilling top secret intel about Albert to his son.

“You’re right. He’s your dad, you deserve to know. You didn’t hear this from me, okay? I don’t need more reasons for B.S.A.A.’s finest to dislike me.”

Jake silently looks at you, then nods his head. “Deal.”

You nod back. “Alright. You first.”

Jake leans against the wall, looking at you with a serious expression. “What kind of man was Albert Wesker?”

You look at him, confused. “I’m assuming you already know what kind of man he was.”

“I do. I’ve heard a hell of a lot about my old man, but not from the woman who knew him best. What kind of man was he?”

“An intelligent psychopath with a god complex.” You pause. “Well... the god complex came later. But still.”

“Intelligent? That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear then?”

“That he was crazy and he tried to destroy the world.” Jakes voice drips with disdain.

“Crazy and intelligent aren’t mutually exclusive traits. Are you positive that these people didn’t know who you were before they tested your blood?”

Even with everything that had just happened, you still couldn’t wrap your head around why you were brought here. To your knowledge, Neo Umbrella didn’t know Jake existed before an hour ago, let alone know that he was Albert’s son. How they knew he was Albert’s son is still unclear to you since his genome is highly classified information. The man on the speaker said your purpose here was personal but didn’t give any indication that it was related to revenge. What did he mean by that? How does this all connect?

“Hundred percent. If he was like that, why’d you marry him then?” Jake’s tone is accusatory, and a scowl that eerily reminds you of Albert adorns his face.

You’re annoyed with the one-word answer and his tone, but you keep your feelings to yourself. You know Jake has complicated feelings when it comes to his father, and he’s dead. You’re the next best thing when it comes to closure. After a moment you calmly and neutrally respond to Jakes question.

“When I first met him, I thought he was a very different man. Sure, he was stoic, cold and all business at the Umbrella Labs, but with me he was romantic, charismatic, and thoughtful." You feel like Jake’s gaze is piercing into your soul, so you look away and stare at the ground instead. “Three years I thought that. Then the mansion incident happened, and everything changed for the worse.”

“Romantic? Hmph. Yeah sure…”

You frown and let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in the process, and you respond in a tired tone. “Has there ever been anyone in your life that you trusted with your whole being and they ended up being someone you didn’t even recognize?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jake cross his arms and scowl become more prominent. Another sensitive subject. You move on.

“He was unfathomably good at making you believe he was someone else. He did it with me. He did it with his S.T.A.R.S. squad at R.P.D. He even did it to Umbrella. In the end, he was just a power-starved monster.”

“R.P.D? He was a cop too?”

You turn your head back towards Jake in surprise. You would have thought that Albert’s previous jobs were easy pieces of information to get ahold of, but then again, Jake may have not cared enough to know. Jake’s expression is still unreadable apart from his voice dripping with contempt as he asked that question. You keep your answer clinical and to the point. “Yeah. He was a scientific prodigy and worked at Umbrella as a researcher really young. Then one of his projects stalled and he became an Umbrella spy and worked in the U.S. Army and then became the captain of the Rescue Service at the police station. After that: bioterrorist.”

You stop and wait for any follow up questions. When Jake only continues to stare you down, you ask your next question.

“Who knows that he’s your father?”

“Couple of guys in the B.S.A.A. and a handful of government agents. Everyone else who knew is dead. What happened after the Mansion Incident? Between you two? There has to be more to that story.” Jakes expression grows darker and more serious.

The thought crosses your mind that you should lie about how you felt, but you have a feeling that you needed to be open with Jake. He deserves the truth, no matter how unpleasant the answer will be.

“I was devastated. When what was left of his team returned from that mansion, I simply didn't want to believe it. I didn't even know he worked for the R.P.D. before that day, and they’re telling me he led his team to die at a mansion in the mountains with a secret Umbrella lab I didn’t know existed? The whole thing sounded crazy." You stop and choose your next words delicately before continuing.

"You have to understand that I loved him at the time. I was in denial. I was mourning. I didn't know he survived the mansion until the Racoon City incident. He could have let me die in Racoon when everything went to shit but he didn't. Instead, he sent a mercenary after me to rescue me and kept me with him until he was killed."

Jake gives you a long look when you finish, his eyes fixed and unblinking. You can tell he’s digesting your every word as his jaw tenses and his knuckles whiten from the force of his fists clenching with his arms are still crossed.

“… so he saved you?”

His voice is icy, and there’s a dangerous edge to his tone that you’ve never heard before. Each word sounds like it’s taking great effort to force out. “Why?”

A pang of fear goes through you at his change of tone. You hit something sensitive, and you don’t even know what it is, which only makes you more nervous. “I don’t have a good answer for that.” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, but you do a good job of masking how intimidated you are by Jake in the moment. Logically, you know he’s probably not going to fly off the handle and do anything to you, but his eyes and expressions are so similar to Albert’s that it’s instinctively putting you on edge.

Unless Albert told you directly, knowing the inner workings of his mind was a challenging task even for you. You’d asked yourself that question and reflected on a possible answer countless times over the years, and each time you came to a slightly different conclusion. On the occasional day where you really missed your marriage before the Mansion Incident, you thought he may have been fond of you in some way. On days like this, your theories were a bit more realistic. You were a means to an end.

Either way, Jake’s eyes are boring into your soul as he’s waiting for you to answer his question.

“At the time, I thought it was because he loved me. But now-” You pause for a moment, desperately trying to gather your thoughts to present them in a way that won’t upset Jake further. “-I have two theories. Either he saw me as an asset with my virology knowledge and kept me close just in case, or he just saw me as something that was his. He almost always used possessives when he addressed me. My darling, my dear, my love. That kind of thing.”

Jake remains silent and his body language still has that edge to it like a cord dangerously close to snapping. You opt to ask a more neutral question.

“How long have you known about Wesker?”

“A year. So he saw you as an asset? You helped him with his plans?”

“No! Fuck no. He definitely wanted me to, but I refused every single time. I still looked at all the lab results and things the he left laying out to stay up to date on what he was planning, but I never gave him feedback.”

“If you refused, why the hell did he keep you around?” Another accusatory, but valid question. Albert wasn’t exactly the forgiving type if he didn’t get what he wanted.

“I think he thought he could wear me down or change my mind eventually. I work fast. I’m good at seeing patterns and remembering small details. My guess is that he didn’t want to get rid of me if there was the possibility of me being useful.” You catch yourself becoming slightly defensive, so you make a conscious effort to reel your emotions in before you ask Jake your question. “Where’d you grow up?”

“Edonia. If you were so against helping him, then why did you stay, huh?”

You’re starting to feel anger boil up in you.

“I was just happy to have my husband back at first! I tried leaving when I realized what he wanted to do. I really did. But by the time I took off the rose colored glasses, I’d seen too much and I was either locked up or he had someone babysitting me so I couldn’t run off. And Edonia? Really? That’s a long way from the U.S. Is that where your mom’s from?”

“Why do you care, huh?” Jake snaps at you, fire in his eyes and nostrils flaring.

You’re slightly taken aback with Jake’s combative response. “Because if anyone finds out she’s associated with Wesker in any way, she’s going to be in danger and needs protection.”

“Don’t need it. She’s dead.” Jake’s face holds no traces of relaxed cockiness like earlier. His expression has morphed into an explosive combination of wrath and pain. “And you know why? Because daddy dearest wasn’t there to pay for her medical bills. He walked out and didn’t fucking look back, yet she still acted like he was this exceptional man who could do no wrong.”

The atmosphere of the room is thick with tension. Even through Jake is a few feet away still leaning on the desk, you feel small and defenseless sitting in your office chair. You feel like the energy in the room could snap at any moment, so you keep your tone sympathetic, but firm.

“I’m sorry about your mom. But you need to believe me when I tell you that you are lucky he was never in your lives-“

“Lucky? That psychopath sent someone to a city that was tearing itself apart to save you but couldn’t send a damn check to save my mom?”

You’ve been patient throughout this whole exchange, and you were resigned to be Jake’s verbal punching bag. But suggesting Albert would have helped Jake’s mother without consequences? That’s the final straw that inevitably makes you lose your composure.

“Did you grow up feeling loved?” The question is sudden. Blurted without thinking of what could come after.

Jake’s angered expression morphs into confusion. “What?”

You know you’re playing with fire with this line of questioning, but you don’t see any other option that will be as effective. “Did your mother… tell you she loved you, make sure you had your coat before leaving the house? Hug you goodbye? Tell you bedtime stories?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Did she?” You don’t back down. You need to make him understand.

“Yeah! She did!”

You nodded. “Good! You wouldn’t have gotten that with Albert. Far from it!”

“Oh yeah? And why do you think that Doc?”

“Is that your question?”

“Answer it.” Jake spits, anger boiling to the surface.

“Do you know anything about Project W?”

You take the silence as a no and continue.

“Albert was a product of one of Oswald Spencer’s projects, founder of Umbrella, headed by Dr. William Wesker. It was a eugenics-based plan to create a race of more intelligent, more fit more whatever superhumans. Your father was essentially raised in a lab.”

You pause to make sure Jake is following your words and keep going.

“There were hundreds of kids in this program. When they were adults, Spencer weeded out a group of thirteen including your father. All of them were given the progenitor virus whether willingly or unknowingly, and only Albert and another woman I’ve never met survived. Albert was the only one who gained superhuman abilities.”

Jake is silent for a moment, then responds, “When you say willingly or unknowingly-”

“Some of these kids didn’t know they were in the program.”

Silence.

“That is where your father came from. You want to know what kind of man he was? He was opportunistic and manipulative. I have no doubt that he would have used you as a guinea pig just like he was. He would have framed it in a way that made it look like he was doing what was best for you too. If he had stayed in your life, you would have been living in a lab waiting for him to shove a needle in your vein as a bonding activity.”

More silence. Jake’s expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t appear angry like before. His eyebrows are scrunched together and he looks at the floor, deep in thought.

“Jake?” You say, gently. He doesn’t respond.

“Jake. Please look at me.” You try again a little louder, and he turns his head to look at you, Albert’s - Jake’s - pale blue eyes look more understanding.

“Do you understand everything I just told you?”

“Yeah. I just-” Jake pauses. “I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that.”

You nod and give him a sympathetic look. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but I don’t think he knew you existed. He would have seen you as an asset and tried to find you otherwise.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, but he nods his head to let you know he heard you.

“Loving him came at a price. Be thankful for the anonymity you have.”

“What was your price?”

Everything.

“My future.” Jake looks at you with an eyebrow raised, so you continue. “Because of the relationship I had with him, it’s impossible to live a normal life. I’ve tried, but there will always be people trying to find me to recruit me or kill me because of that.” You say this off-handedly. You’ve become used to this kind of life to the point where happenings like this feel routine.

You and Jake sit in silence. Jake’s presence doesn’t emit that aura of anger anymore.

“That’s not fair to you.”

You give Jake a wry smile.

“It’s not fair that he’s your father. We can’t change the past. But we can try to make the future a bit less shitty.” You quip.

Jake chuckles a little at that comment, and his smirk finally returns.

“You’re not-” Jake stops, and you wait for him to finish, “-how I expected you to be.”

“…thanks?” You reply, not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Jake snorts at your comment. “And uh… sorry I got heated for a minute there.”

You give Jake a dismissive wave. “Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve gotten my ass chewed out because of Wesker, and it’s not going to be the last. At least yours was warranted. You love your mom. I can’t fault you for that.”

“Appreciate it.” Jake replies, his smirk disappearing after a moment.

“I’ve got one more… personal question.” Jake looks at you, a dark intensity to his gaze.

You nod. ”Go for it. You deserve to know.”

“Do you have any children?” After a long, silent pause, Jake’s eyes lose their intensity and he gives you a small, sympathetic look.

You give Jake a sad smile. “No. No we… everything I said before about bonding activities? That’s not anecdotal. Just conjecture. Just-“ You gesture to Jake. “You.”

That I know of.

You clear your throat. “How old are you, by the way? I’m just curious-”

“You don’t need to finish that, I get it. Twenty.”

“You look older.”

“Mercenary work and a civil war will do that to ya.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

You shift in your seat from the awkward turn of events and say your thoughts out loud. “Let’s see…” You do the math in your head. “That would’ve been ’92. I met him in ’95. We got married in ’97...”

“And everything with Umbrella went to shit in ’98.” Jake finishes.

You feel the side of your mouth curl into a half smile. “You’ve done your homework.”

The alarm outside the room suddenly stops, and you hear a hissing noise from the hallway outside. You look to the door, then back at Jake. “I’ll tell you more later. We gotta get moving.”

You stand up from your chair and check the panel on the door. Still red. It’s going to take a minute or two for the gas to filter out of the hallway. You look over your shoulder at Jake.

“Did you end up finding that sample by the way? Or a way to contact the Tokyo base?”

Jake frowns and checks his pistol. “No, but I have a better idea of where those things could be.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Better than nothing, I guess. Any theories?”

Jake shrugs. “Half this place used to be a military base and the other half an Umbrella lab that’s had some renovations. The old lab holds the old samples-”

“So the newer part of the lab should have the new samples and the military part should have a radio?”

Jake smirks and points at you. “If everything goes right, we’ll be outta here by sunset.”

The office door panel beeps and lights up green. You smile and slide the red card and the door swooshes open. You look back to Jake. “I like the sound of that. Let’s go.”

As you both walk back out into the hallway, you notice it’s still eerily empty. However, the security doors are still engaged at both ends of the hallway. You and Jake walk over to the door you were heading through before the lockdown. You scan the red keycard and it declines. You huff and scan the black keycard, and you hear the lock disengage and the security doors split open and return their respectful halves to the floor and ceiling. You look at the black keycard with a stern look as Jake walks though.

“Only guards can open security doors? That sounds like a shitshow waiting to happen.”

“You an expert on security now too? C’mon we’ve got a schedule to-”

Jake is cut off by a loud buzzer, followed by the security doors slamming shut so you and Jake are on opposite sides. Jake hurries up to the doors and looks at you through one of the small windows in the middle.

“What the hell? Try the card again maybe it’s a timer thing.”

You scan the black card again, but it returns an error message. You shake your head in annoyance, but then it turns into concern when you hear shouting and footsteps from the direction of the observation rooms you were held in.

“It’s giving me an error message. Try yours on that side!” You shout at Jake through the door.

You see Jake’s face as he scans the panel on his side but based on how Jake grits his teeth in frustration he’s probably not having any better luck than you. You hear shouting and footsteps growing louder. Jake notices and tries to pry open the security doors with his hands. You scan the red card again, but it also returns an error message.

“Shit! Jake, they know which cards we took and deactivated them. They’re no good!”

You throw down the cards and take a few steps back to get a better look at the hallway to find an alternate route or some structural weakness in the door arch, but you notice nothing. The sounds of guards shouting and running are getting even closer. Your only chance of getting out of here is Jake. He can’t be here when you’re ultimately discovered.

You hurry back up to one of the windows on the security door to shout at Jake. “You need to go, now!”

Jake ignores you and keeps looking for purchase on the door, but it’s too smooth to get a decent grip to pull it open.

“Jake!” You scold.

Jake pauses to look at you, scowling.

“They obviously want me alive I’ll be fine. You find that sample and radio for help. I’ll stall for as long as I can.”

Jake’s scowl on his face deepens as he tries to open the mechanical door again, but his efforts are fruitless. He finally slams a hand on the door and lets out an annoyed huff and looks back at you through the window.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

More yelling and bangs echo down the hall.

“More than likely, yes. Just be quick about it. I’d rather not be a lab rat if I can help it.”

Jake takes one more analyzing look at the door and gives you a curt nod, clearly not happy with the new set of circumstances.

“Don’t say anything that’ll piss em’ off more.”

“No promises, now go!”

You turn around at the sound of the opposite security door opening, and you hear Jake’s footsteps grow further and further before they disappear and are replaced with the stomping of a battalion of gas masked soldiers. A group of eight quickly block off your only exit and train their semi-automatic TMP’s on you. Seeing as you’re heavily outnumbered, you put your hands up in surrender.

As you do, a wiry man a little taller than you walks leisurely through the intimidating crowd of masked faces. He wears a suit under a pristine white lab coat and looks at you with cold eyes through a pair of square glasses.

“Where is Muller, Doctor?”

You recognize the lilting voice immediately. This is Youju. Your immediate impression is that he’s much too young to be the director of this facility. But then again, Umbrella is chock full of young prodigies. Time to buy Jake some time.

“I could care less about where he went. As I told you before, he’s not my son.”

“I see.” Youju walks a few steps past the line of guards towards you and looks at the mechanical door behind you, skeptical.

“Why stop here Dr. Wesker? Why this door?”

“Because your security system needs some work. It closed and it can’t be opened.” You reply, curtly.

“Then why didn’t you run?”

“I’ve been in enough scrapes to know when I’ve been backed into a corner.” It’s not a lie. Even though your main goal is to distract these people, you know when you’re beat. Especially when you have an overwhelming handful of guns trained on you.

Youju frowns. “You still haven’t answered my question. Where. Is. Muller?”

“I. Don’t. Know. We went our separate ways when it became convenient.” You reply condescendingly, already tired of answering Youju’s questions.

Youju narrows his eyes at you, calculating his response. “Very well then. Since you’re so keen on seeing what amenities this facility has to offer, allow me to give you a guided tour.”

“I’d rather go back to my room. I’ve had enough cardio for today.”

Youju waves his hand and the guards put their guns down, save for one who quickly positions himself behind you with his gun still aimed at your back. Youju gives you a chilling smile. “I must insist, Doctor.”

As Youju walks back through the crowd of guards, he announces one more command to the crowd of guards.

“Find the other one. Alive. Maim him if you must, but ensure he is brought to me in one piece.”

Not ten minutes later, Youju and his guard lead you deeper into the facility, seemingly with one destination in mind for your guided tour. Youju leads the way in front of you, while the soldier trails behind never once lowering his weapon. He seems to be leading you into the newly renovated parts of the lab. There are no windows into the many rooms you pass so you have no inkling of what could be going on behind closed doors, but Youju ignores all of them in favor of the main lab at the center of the facility.

He scans a white key card and a large lock disengages from the mechanism in the middle of the door, spinning until it’s completely free before the doors finally open to reveal another set of sliding doors. Youju scans the card again and enters with you and the soldier right behind him.

It's a room with several scientists checking over miscellaneous machines and monitors, as well as fridges with multiple different colored chemical substances. All of them periodically glance over their respective stations and into the observation chamber below through the window that takes up the entire expanse of the wall opposite the door. A handful of soldiers line the wall in the back of the room. Youju saunters in and stands by a monitor that flickers to show a different part of the facility every fifteen seconds or so. A microphone stands idly next to it. Youju trains his dark eyes on you, a barely noticeable sly smile on his face.

“Welcome to the inner sanctum, Doctor. I would like your thoughts on my latest and greatest project.”

You cross your arms defiantly and shift your weight with a bored expression on your face. “As I said before, I have no interest in any job you have to offer me.”

“I didn’t offer you employment. I only ask that you take a cursory look. I assure you, he will be of great interest to you.” Youju speaks in that same, know-it-all tone from when you were stuck in your quarters. Like he wants you to figure out his point.

Better yet, who’s ‘he?’

You roll your eyes and humor him.

You look over the consoles and into the chamber below. There are illuminated chambers filled with substances you don’t recognize and over a dozen machines tracking something you can’t discern from this distance. The cylindrical tank in the middle of the room is the focal point of the observation chamber. It glows with a foreboding orange light, illuminating the space in between itself and you. At first, you can’t tell what the tank holds with the light emanating from it shining in your eyes. When your eyes adjust to the light, one by one you notice features of the creature inside; you see the outline of a man. Then notice one of its arms is much longer and darker than the other. The scar tissue across its chest. Then, most devastatingly, disheveled, slicked back blonde hair.

Your heart drops and your annoyed expression shifts into something much more terrified.

“Where… that’s not…”

But it was. Behind the glass in the chamber below was the body of a mutated Albert Wesker floating in a liquid filled chamber. His chest and legs are overtaken by burnt scar tissue, but otherwise look about the same as the last time you saw him; although you don’t like to think about that series of events.

The bomber. The volcano. The helicopter that he almost pulled down into the lava with him. Any one of those scenarios could have easily ended with your death, the world ending or Uroboros in your arm. Not that the three were that different regarding the death part.

The last time you saw Wesker, he had mutated into the monster he had become on the inside. His snake eyes glowed red, black Uroboros burst from beneath his skin around his eyes, worms of Uroboros completely overtook his chest and arms, which he could stretch to great lengths, and he was altogether consumed by rage. Rage against Chris for besting him once again, rage against himself for underestimating him, and you were certain rage against you for betraying him.

You stare blankly into the chamber as the reality of the situation sets in: Youju went to great lengths to find Albert. You didn’t know how he could have found him after so long, but you knew this man had to mine through volcanic rock at best and perform an underwater excavation of a volcano at worst to exhume him. Whatever he has planned, it can only spell doom for whatever unfortunate soul falls in Albert’s wake. Your body can’t bring itself to move, so you stand frozen by the console of the observation room overlooking the chamber Albert is in.

“The union of Wesker and Uroboros is truly a remarkable miracle of nature,” Youju says smugly, relishing in your shock.

All you can do in the moment is gape at your husband in horror.

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Your voice comes out small. Rattled. Nothing like how you planned when you stepped into this room.

“Natural? That’s a matter of perspective, Doctor. We are seeing evolution in real time.” Youju is enjoying your torment, but there is a pit forming in your stomach that is screaming for you to talk sense into him. You know in your bones that this is a bad idea, but you can’t articulate it into words that will break through to the Director. You knew men like him. He won’t listen until it’s too late, but you try anyway.

“Whatever you’re planning is not worth the consequences you’re going to reap from playing God.” You still stare at Wesker’s peaceful, mutated face.

“I assure you it will be. Your husband is an incredible case study. He was medically dead when we found him, but you know as well as I do that the dead don’t tend to stay that way for long in our profession. Uroboros preserved his brain and nervous system better than any modern medical instrument you or I could have hoped to have at our disposal.” Youju explains with pride.

“Weapon, DNA, or emotional blackmail?” You reply cooly, still staring at Wesker in the chamber below.

“Whichever has the highest bidder. Although I think the value of a subject like him transcends material wealth, so I’ll hold off on an auction for now. I have more pressing plans first.”

You break your gaze from Wesker’s body in the chamber and look at Youju with a cautious expression, curious as to what he means.

“We know his brain is showing activity, but he hasn’t woken up you see. All the regular avenues for breaking comatose states have been exhausted.”

Youju turns to the chamber and puts his hand on the window thoughtfully as he speaks.

“Sure, we could harvest his DNA and easily make our investment in excavating him a drop in the bucket. As you’ve said, his DNA is one in a trillion. But it’s not just his DNA that makes him unique, it’s his mind as well. He was- is- the greatest mind manufactured by man. By Oswald Spencer himself. What I would give to speak with him! To know his thoughts on my research. To continue where Spencer was forced to stop.”

The Director looks away from Wesker and back to you, with a giddy look you know all too well. It’s a dissecting look of a scientist attempting to peel away the mystery of an unsolved problem.

“But then one of my researchers had an interesting hypothesis. This is not a regular subject so normal avenues are more than likely going to prove fruitless. Perhaps Wesker needs a familiar face as an extra incentive to chat with us. Someone who knew him much more personally than anyone else. Someone like you. We’ve already tried recordings of your voice, and they’ve yielded positive results, but not the one’s we’re looking for.”

“The saying ‘you should never meet your heroes,’ definitely applies in this case. You need to quit while you’re ahead. You’re inviting nothing but trouble by indulging this fantasy.” You warn, unable to wipe the look of barely contained terror on your face.

Youju tilts his head and gives you a mocking pout.

“Awww… what’s wrong Dr. Wesker? I thought this would be a happy reunion for you. After all, you survived him. He respected your intellect. It’s not every day that a genius offers his lover a place beside him in a new world. And don’t deny it. I’ve seen the footage of him offering you Uroboros on multiple occasions. I’m not a betting man, but I’d say those weren’t the only times he tried to convince you.”

“Director, you need to stop-”

“Not until I get what I want.” Youju’s gaze turns cold and he flips a switch on the console in front of you both. A red light above it switches to green. The guard behind you raises his gun to your head. Youju turns his face towards the microphone but keeps his eyes on you.

“Albert Wesker, you have a visitor. A personal visitor. Go ahead and say hello my dear.”

You avoid looking into the chamber and keep your mouth shut while staring down Youju. You would rather die than awaken that monster.

“Your wife is here to see you Dr. Wesker. Mrs. Doctor Wesker, if you know what’s good for you, please speak into the microphone.” The tone the Director uses reminds you of a car salesman; sleazy and said with a gritted smile. Attempting to get you to bend to his will no matter the cost if it gets you to sign the metaphorical dotted line.

When you keep your mouth shut, Youju motions to the guard behind you and you feel the cold steel of the muzzle of the gun on the back of your head. Your breath becomes unsteady, but you stay silent. He needs you. He wouldn’t kill you so quickly when he needs you. You’re sure of it.

“You know I’m not a patient man dear. Speak, or I will make you.” Youju spits out the warning, his patience already wearing thin.

You clench your jaw and stay silent. You fully intend to stay quiet, even though the urge to call Youju a dumb motherfucker is strong. You see a flicker on one of the cameras on Youju’s monitor. A figure. You weren’t going to pay it any mind, but even out of the corner of your eye you recognize the large scar on the side of Jake’s face.

Youju lets out an annoyed huff at your continued silence, currently unaware of Jake’s presence. “I wanted to avoid making this messy, but it seems you’ve left me with no other option.”

Youju turns around and starts to bend down towards a drawer below the monitor. You panic. Jake is your only hope in getting the B.S.A.A. here. You can’t let his stealth go to waste.

“Albert!” You spit out the name without thinking. You already feel sick to your stomach at your choice of action, but it has its intended effect immediately. Youju snaps his attention away from the monitor’s direction and back to you, then back to the chamber, then to a monitor off to the side that you now realize is displaying brainwave activity. His brainwave activity. You hadn’t noticed it before because the brainwaves were barely perceptible, only small mole hills on a nearly straight line. Now, like a rising tide, the red wave on the monitor grows in intensity along with your heartbeat.

Youju stares at the monitor with you in awe, then turns his attention to the chamber while speaking to you. “Go on. Tell him to wake up.”

“Albert dear?” You pause to take a shallow breath of air. The red wave rises higher on the monitor. “I need you to wake up.”

The more the red wave rises, the more animated the other scientists in the room become. Youju most of all. Everyone buzzes with excitement over their machines and data displaying on the screens, but all you can do is stare at Wesker in the chamber with a lump in your throat.

You have an idea on how to get the upper hand. It’s stupid, suicidal, and against everything your brain is telling you not to do, but if it works it’s an almost guaranteed way for these people to lock you in your room again until the B.S.A.A. can get here with proper reinforcements.

“Albert help me they have a gun to my head!”

Almost immediately, beeping sounds emanate from each and every machine in the room. One by one, every piece of machinery has warning lights on their displays and nervous chattering erupts from the scientists. The red wave on the brainwave monitor devolves into jittery valleys and peaks. You see Wesker in his water chamber twitching, and his peaceful face morph into an angered scowl that you know all too well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Youju scolds as he switches off the microphone. He grabs your shoulder in a tight grip and walks you back closer to the door away from the window seemingly the only one not concerned with the sudden uptick in activity on the monitors and more peeved at your little stunt.

“That’s enough from you for now Doctor.” He turns his attention to the guard behind you. “Take her back to-”

Youju’s command is interrupted by the sound of glass cracking, a rush of water and metal screeching in the chamber below. Youju’s eyes grow wide and he immediately rushes back over to the window. He turns his head to say something, but before he’s able to, a pipe breaks through the glass of the observation chamber and into Youju’s skull with so much force that blood splatters on you from across the room and you stumble to the floor in your shock.

All hell breaks loose. Some scientists scream, others duck and cover, a handful try and fail to open the door to the hallway, the soldier leaves your side and open fires on Wesker in the chamber along with the other ones in the room.

You can’t seem to escape from the bloodshed. No matter where you turn, more blood splashes across your clothes but you manage to keep your escape in mind: grab Youju’s white keycard to get out of the room. You do your best to block out the grisly sight of Youju’s head as you army crawl across the floor. The white keycard, now stained crimson in some places, hangs precariously from his belt. A black and blonde blur dives into the room from the chamber and the screams grow louder and more frightened. You grab the keycard and you crawl behind a large cabinet that got overturned in the chaos in the corner of the room and make yourself as small as possible by hugging your knees to your chest. You clutch the keycard for dear life.

Meanwhile, in the background, you hear Wesker spewing insults as he tears through the room.

“Ignorant cretins! Worthless, self-righteous chaff! Inferior good for nothing fools!”

Something in Wesker’s voice puts you on edge, and it has nothing to do with the fact he’s seething with rage or leaving a trail of blood and viscera and broken machinery in his wake. You can’t quite describe it, other than that it sounds wrong. The voice is Wesker’s, but the tone and intonation are just… off. Your Wesker spoke in a much sharper and eloquent manner. This voice is direct and garbled in some places.

In the moment, you don’t know which voice you’d prefer. You don’t have time to think on it when you feel a presence behind you. It’s only now that you realize the screams and cries of pain have gone silent. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice in your ear that makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

“My dear? Oh, how I’ve missed you my sweet…”

You freeze. His tone is uncannily gentle. He’s so close, you can feel Wesker’s breath on your ear and neck. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like Wesker’s words have you under a paralytic spell.

“How dare they touch what’s not theirs…”

A wet, slimy and black tendril slowly makes its way into the corner of your vision and gingerly tucks a flyaway hair behind your ear. You can’t bring yourself to move and you heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest it's beating so fast.

You sense Wesker move his head closer to yours until you can feel the damp heat of him over your shoulder. Glass breaks on the other side of the room and he whips his head towards the sound. There’s one last scientist left. She’s trying to climb into the observation chamber, but she stepped on a piece of glass and now she’s gaping at Wesker in fear.

Wesker attacks her with the bloodlust of a wild animal, plunging his Uroboros arm into her chest and not stopping his assault until it reveals itself again when it pokes out through her mouth. She doesn’t even have a chance to scream. Only gurgle sounds of pain.

The grisly sight finally breaks the spell, and you bolt to the sliding doors and run the second the door registers Youju’s keycard.

You don’t stop when you hear Albert calling your name behind you.

You don’t stop when you see other guards and scientists coming out into the hallway to observe what caused such deafening, monstrous noises.

You don’t stop when you hear more screaming and gunfire erupting behind you.

You have no destination in mind when the hallways become unrecognizable.

The only thing consuming your thoughts is the fact that your psychopathic husband is alive, and that you’ve doomed the world because you destroyed the only Uroboros sample in existence to stop him in a misguided attempt to save it.

a/n 2: How's that for angst? More juiciness in the next part :)

If you've made it this far THANK YOU and sorry for this part being long I thought it would ruin the flow to split it up into two parts.

Tag List: @killerwendigo

#resident evil fanfiction #chris redfield x reader #but not in this part (again) because MORE PLOT #no beta we die like men #albert wesker #no use of y/n #angst #chris redfield #jake muller #resident evil #resident evil 6 #resident evil 6 spoilers #The Wife the Lover and the Bastard Son #resident evil 5

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