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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

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Google’s enshittification memos

[Note, 9 October 2023: Google disputes the veracity of this claim, but has declined to provide the exhibits and testimony to support its claims. Read more about this here.]

When I think about how the old, good internet turned into the enshitternet, I imagine a series of small compromises, each seemingly reasonable at the time, each contributing to a cultural norm of making good things worse, and worse, and worse.

Think about Unity President Marc Whitten's nonpology for his company's disastrous rug-pull, in which they declared that everyone who had paid good money to use their tool to make a game would have to keep paying, every time someone downloaded that game:

The most fundamental thing that we’re trying to do is we’re building a sustainable business for Unity. And for us, that means that we do need to have a model that includes some sort of balancing change, including shared success.

https://www.wired.com/story/unity-walks-back-policies-lost-trust/

"Shared success" is code for, "If you use our tool to make money, we should make money too." This is bullshit. It's like saying, "We just want to find a way to share the success of the painters who use our brushes, so every time you sell a painting, we want to tax that sale." Or "Every time you sell a house, the company that made the hammer gets to wet its beak."

And note that they're not talking about shared risk here – no one at Unity is saying, "If you try to make a game with our tools and you lose a million bucks, we're on the hook for ten percent of your losses." This isn't partnership, it's extortion.

How did a company like Unity – which became a market leader by making a tool that understood the needs of game developers and filled them – turn into a protection racket? One bad decision at a time. One rationalization and then another. Slowly, and then all at once.

When I think about this enshittification curve, I often think of Google, a company that had its users' backs for years, which created a genuinely innovative search engine that worked so well it seemed like *magic, a company whose employees often had their pick of jobs, but chose the "don't be evil" gig because that mattered to them.

People make fun of that "don't be evil" motto, but if your key employees took the gig because they didn't want to be evil, and then you ask them to be evil, they might just quit. Hell, they might make a stink on the way out the door, too:

https://theintercept.com/2018/09/13/google-china-search-engine-employee-resigns/

Google is a company whose founders started out by publishing a scientific paper describing their search methodology, in which they said, "Oh, and by the way, ads will inevitably turn your search engine into a pile of shit, so we're gonna stay the fuck away from them":

http://infolab.stanford.edu/pub/papers/google.pdf

Those same founders retained a controlling interest in the company after it went IPO, explaining to investors that they were going to run the business without having their elbows jostled by shortsighted Wall Street assholes, so they could keep it from turning into a pile of shit:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

And yet, it's turned into a pile of shit. Google search is so bad you might as well ask Jeeves. The company's big plan to fix it? Replace links to webpages with florid paragraphs of chatbot nonsense filled with a supremely confident lies:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

How did the company get this bad? In part, this is the "curse of bigness." The company can't grow by attracting new users. When you have 90%+ of the market, there are no new customers to sign up. Hypothetically, they could grow by going into new lines of business, but Google is incapable of making a successful product in-house and also kills most of the products it buys from other, more innovative companies:

https://killedbygoogle.com/

Theoretically, the company could pursue new lines of business in-house, and indeed, the current leaders of companies like Amazon, Microsoft and Apple are all execs who figured out how to get the whole company to do something new, and were elevated to the CEO's office, making each one a billionaire and sealing their place in history.

It is for this very reason that any exec at a large firm who tries to make a business-wide improvement gets immediately and repeatedly knifed by all their colleagues, who correctly reason that if someone else becomes CEO, then they won't become CEO. Machiavelli was an optimist:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

With no growth from new customers, and no growth from new businesses, "growth" has to come from squeezing workers (say, laying off 12,000 engineers after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years), or business customers (say, by colluding with Facebook to rig the ad market with the Jedi Blue conspiracy), or end-users.

Now, in theory, we might never know exactly what led to the enshittification of Google. In theory, all of compromises, debates and plots could be lost to history. But tech is not an oral culture, it's a written one, and techies write everything down and nothing is ever truly deleted.

Time and again, Big Tech tells on itself. Think of FTX's main conspirators all hanging out in a group chat called "Wirefraud." Amazon naming its program targeting weak, small publishers the "Gazelle Project" ("approach these small publishers the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”). Amazon documenting the fact that users were unknowingly signing up for Prime and getting pissed; then figuring out how to reduce accidental signups, then deciding not to do it because it liked the money too much. Think of Zuck emailing his CFO in the middle of the night to defend his outsized offer to buy Instagram on the basis that users like Insta better and Facebook couldn't compete with them on quality.

It's like every Big Tech schemer has a folder on their desktop called "Mens Rea" filled with files like "Copy_of_Premeditated_Murder.docx":

https://doctorow.medium.com/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself-f7f0eb6d215a?sk=351f8a54ab8e02d7340620e5eec5024d

Right now, Google's on trial for its sins against antitrust law. It's a hard case to make. To secure a win, the prosecutors at the DoJ Antitrust Division are going to have to prove what was going on in Google execs' minds when the took the actions that led to the company's dominance. They're going to have to show that the company deliberately undertook to harm its users and customers.

Of course, it helps that Google put it all in writing.

Last week, there was a huge kerfuffile over the DoJ's practice of posting its exhibits from the trial to a website each night. This is a totally normal thing to do – a practice that dates back to the Microsoft antitrust trial. But Google pitched a tantrum over this and said that the docs the DoJ were posting would be turned into "clickbait." Which is another way of saying, "the public would find these documents very interesting, and they would be damning to us and our case":

https://www.bigtechontrial.com/p/secrecy-is-systemic

After initially deferring to Google, Judge Amit Mehta finally gave the Justice Department the greenlight to post the document. It's up. It's wild:

https://www.justice.gov/d9/2023-09/416692.pdf

The document is described as "notes for a course on communication" that Google VP for Finance Michael Roszak prepared. Roszak says he can't remember whether he ever gave the presentation, but insists that the remit for the course required him to tell students "things I didn't believe," and that's why the document is "full of hyperbole and exaggeration."

OK.

But here's what the document says: "search advertising is one of the world's greatest business models ever created…illicit businesses (cigarettes or drugs) could rival these economics…[W]e can mostly ignore the demand side…(users and queries) and only focus on the supply side of advertisers, ad formats and sales."

It goes on to say that this might be changing, and proposes a way to balance the interests of the search and ads teams, which are at odds, with search worrying that ads are pushing them to produce "unnatural search experiences to chase revenue."

"Unnatural search experiences to chase revenue" is a thinly veiled euphemism for the prophetic warnings in that 1998 Pagerank paper: "The goals of the advertising business model do not always correspond to providing quality search to users." Or, more plainly, "ads will turn our search engine into a pile of shit."

And, as Roszak writes, Google is "able to ignore one of the fundamental laws of economics…supply and demand." That is, the company has become so dominant and cemented its position so thoroughly as the default search engine across every platforms and system that even if it makes its search terrible to goose revenues, users won't leave. As Lily Tomlin put it on SNL: "We don't have to care, we're the phone company."

In the enshittification cycle, companies first lure in users with surpluses – like providing the best search results rather than the most profitable ones – with an eye to locking them in. In Google's case, that lock-in has multiple facets, but the big one is spending billions of dollars – enough to buy a whole Twitter, every single year – to be the default search everywhere.

Google doesn't buy its way to dominance because it has the very best search results and it wants to shield you from inferior competitors. The economically rational case for buying default position is that preventing competition is more profitable than succeeding by outperforming competitors. The best reason to buy the default everywhere is that it lets you lower quality without losing business. You can "ignore the demand side, and only focus on advertisers."

For a lot of people, the analysis stops here. "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product." Google locks in users and sells them to advertisers, who are their co-conspirators in a scheme to screw the rest of us.

But that's not right. For one thing, paying for a product doesn't mean you won't be the product. Apple charges a thousand bucks for an iPhone and then nonconsensually spies on every iOS user in order to target ads to them (and lies about it):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

John Deere charges six figures for its tractors, then runs a grift that blocks farmers from fixing their own machines, and then uses their control over repair to silence farmers who complain about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

Fair treatment from a corporation isn't a loyalty program that you earn by through sufficient spending. Companies that can sell you out, will sell you out, and then cry victim, insisting that they were only doing their fiduciary duty for their sacred shareholders. Companies are disciplined by fear of competition, regulation or – in the case of tech platforms – customers seizing the means of computation and installing ad-blockers, alternative clients, multiprotocol readers, etc:

https://doctorow.medium.com/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse-3cc01e7e4604?sk=85b3f5f7d051804521c3411711f0b554

Which is where the next stage of enshittification comes in: when the platform withdraws the surplus it had allocated to lure in – and then lock in – business customers (like advertisers) and reallocate it to the platform's shareholders.

For Google, there are several rackets that let it screw over advertisers as well as searchers (the advertisers are paying for the product, and they're also the product). Some of those rackets are well-known, like Jedi Blue, the market-rigging conspiracy that Google and Facebook colluded on:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

But thanks to the antitrust trial, we're learning about more of these. Megan Gray – ex-FTC, ex-DuckDuckGo – was in the courtroom last week when evidence was presented on Google execs' panic over a decline in "ad generating searches" and the sleazy gimmick they came up with to address it: manipulating the "semantic matching" on user queries:

https://www.wired.com/story/google-antitrust-lawsuit-search-results/

When you send a query to Google, it expands that query with terms that are similar – for example, if you search on "Weds" it might also search for "Wednesday." In the slides shown in the Google trial, we learned about another kind of semantic matching that Google performed, this one intended to turn your search results into "a twisted shopping mall you can’t escape."

Here's how that worked: when you ran a query like "children's clothing," Google secretly appended the brand name of a kids' clothing manufacturer to the query. This, in turn, triggered a ton of ads – because rival brands will have bought ads against their competitors' name (like Pepsi buying ads that are shown over queries for Coke).

Here we see surpluses being taken away from both end-users and business customers – that is, searchers and advertisers. For searchers, it doesn't matter how much you refine your query, you're still going to get crummy search results because there's an unkillable, hidden search term stuck to your query, like a piece of shit that Google keeps sticking to the sole of your shoe.

But for advertisers, this is also a scam. They're paying to be matched to users who search on a brand name, and you didn't search on that brand name. It's especially bad for the company whose name has been appended to your search, because Google has a protection racket where the company that matches your search has to pay extra in order to show up overtop of rivals who are worse matches. Both the matching company and those rivals have given Google a credit-card that Google gets to bill every time a user searches on the company's name, and Google is just running fraudulent charges through those cards.

And, of course, Google put this in writing. I mean, of course they did. As we learned from the documentary The Incredibles, supervillains can't stop themselves from monologuing, and in big, sprawling monopolists, these monologues have to transmitted electronically – and often indelibly – to far-flung co-cabalists.

As Gray points out, this is an incredibly blunt enshittification technique: "it hadn’t even occurred to me that Google just flat out deletes queries and replaces them with ones that monetize better." We don't know how long Google did this for or how frequently this bait-and-switch was deployed.

But if this is a blunt way of Google smashing its fist down on the scales that balance search quality against ad revenues, there's plenty of subtler ways the company could sneak a thumb on there. A Google exec at the trial rhapsodized about his company's "contract with the user" to deliver an "honest results policy," but given how bad Google search is these days, we're left to either believe he's lying or that Google sucks at search.

The paper trail offers a tantalizing look at how a company went from doing something that was so good it felt like a magic trick to being "able to ignore one of the fundamental laws of economics…supply and demand," able to "ignore the demand side…(users and queries) and only focus on the supply side of advertisers."

What's more, this is a system where everyone loses (except for Google): this isn't a grift run by Google and advertisers on users – it's a grift Google runs on everyone.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #enshittification #semantic matching #google #antitrust #trustbusting #transparency #fatfingers #serp #the algorithm #telling on yourself

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creatingblackcharacters · 2 months

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Lesson 1: "White Man Painted Black"?

Okay, I recognize that this is a strong foot to step off on! But! If you learn nothing else from this series, if you decide for whatever reason to forsake me: this is the ONE perspective I'd like you to take away!

You may have heard this quote before, when Black fans deride a character design as 'a white man with the brown bucket tool'. On its face, it means exactly what was said. But specifically, what it means is that we recognize that whomever designed the character drew the way they normally draw for a 'default' character in their mind- default usually meaning White/Eurocentric features- and they added a shade of brown within the line art to make that character now 'Black'.

Now if you're feeling defensive, wait just a moment! This discomfort is not inherently a bad thing!

I'm going to use both a 'real world' example first, to show you what your Black fans and peers are seeing, and perhaps you will also understand our discomfort!

(if anyone was curious, my folder for this lesson is titled 'brad' lmao and you'll see why)

(I'll have y'all know that I actually worked very hard to make Blackface Brad look mildly presentable lmao I'm sorry, I'm wheezing, I can hardly breathe looking at him 🤣)

You see how, despite knowing where this was going, and using one of the darkest shades of brown in my Skin Tones arsenal, you still know that that's Brad Pitt? That nothing about his hair texture, his lips, his nose, or really anything other than the palette change... changed? And you can still see that?

It's incredibly hurtful to be told that that's supposed to be you. You know it's not, you know why it's not, but rather than hearing how it makes you feel unseen and what they could do to be better (since they wanted to draw a Black character!), the artist lashes out at you.

And as an artist, you might have worked VERY HARD to do this! That might be a real handsome guy you drew!! But... is he really Black? Did you walk into it with the intention, that you were drawing a Black Character, or did you draw a character that just happened to be Black? It seems like a silly thing, but it matters!

Okay. I just finished laughing over Brad. Now let's get into some more perspective changes:

Now, imagine you drew a character. You want to make her Black, so you change the hair and skin colors. All right! You have your Black character... right?

Changed ONE feature about her? (You should obviously change more than one feature, but let's just go with the simplified example.)

What if, instead of just changing her palette, we changed her:

Hair?

There isn't nearly enough time in the world, let alone in this little scribble and blurb, for me to describe the IMPORTANCE of Black hair in Black character design. There are so many ways to do curls, afros, braids, twists, locs, SO MANY HAIRSTYLES!! Get used to searching in the 3C-4C hair textures!!!! I plan on doing an entire lesson or two on hair alone, but suffice it to say, Hair Texture is thee BIGGEST giveaway that you 'painted a white person Black'- from cartoon styles to realistic! It reveals itself in your writing as well- just based on how your character takes care of their hair, how your describe the texture, how other people might perceive it... it lets me know just how much research was done. Because we can have straight hair! But again, that's a conversation for a whole 'nother lesson so- come back later 👀?

Lips?

I love our lips, I really do. There's a long history of shaming Black women in particular for the way our lips look. So when I see them done in all their glory, it makes me very happy. Two-toned lips vary in shade and intensity, so make sure you're using references if you want to be 'realistic', but it doesn't have to be that hard. Even a little subtle shift like this in the design/story description lets me know that a creator was thinking about me.

Nose?

One thing I've noticed ever since I starting drawing is that... people in a lot of mangas/manhwas barely have noses! I admit, out of all the features on the face, the nose isn't the most important. I think they should be, especially when you want to emphasize that your characters look different! People have different types of noses! I especially want to gear this towards those with a goal of drawing realistic portraits and the like- there, the nose is ANOTHER dead giveaway. There are Black people with aquiline and straight noses- we aren't a monolith- but is that why you drew it? Consider why you went for that nose specifically. That's part of the intent, in all this!

Now, you might be looking at me and going "Ice... this is just character design". To which my answer is: Yes! It is! It feels so basic, and yet if you ask your Black friends/peers how often they've come across this feeling of not being properly drawn/written, from fanart to professionally produced works, it's unfortunately common despite how simple of a concept it is.

I hope that you can walk away from my first lil lesson with new eyes. Remember, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #black characters #black artists #black writers #black art #character design

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dollfacefantasy · 3 months

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Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl.

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff

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gi4hao · 18 days

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☆ dino x gn!reader — domestic fluff!

☆ from repairing a sink to love confessions on the kitchen floor

9pm is right around the corner, and you know for a fact that your boyfriend is far from being done with repairing the leak under your kitchen sink. but of course he won’t accept defeat, which is why you resorted to having dinner on the floor, sat next to him to keep him company.

“you really should go lie down on the couch” chan tells you from beneath the sink, his voice muffled and punctuated by the clinks of his tools. “this isn’t good for your back.”

he’s not wrong, this position is definitely not the comfiest even though you managed to rest against a piece of furniture. but the view isn’t so bad here, you think to yourself, contently watching his arms flex as he twists and tightens metal pieces here and there.

“but if i leave who’s going to feed you those baby tomatoes?” you ask, looking at the half-eaten bowl in front of you.

putting his tools down, he emerges from under the sink with a contented sigh, stretching his limbs as he sits upright. “you’re such a simp” he chuckles, yet still gladly opens his mouth for you to throw yet another tomato inside.

with an exaggerated scoff, you put a hand over your heart in mock offense: “excuse me? says the biggest simp ever?”

the thing is, you don’t even mind being called a simp; you’re lucid enough to know that it’s only the truth. similarly, chan doesn’t mind it either, but it’s just so much more entertaining to deny and act like it offends him.

“if there’s a simp in this room it’s definitely you. and allow me to tell you why…” you tell him as he returns to the small confined space below your countertop.

you don’t even have to make an effort to gather your thoughts, countless examples just flow naturally into your brain: “first of all, you always carry me on your back when we’re walking back home from a party. you kiss me goodbye every morning even when i’m still asleep. you have a picture of me in your wallet, i’m your phone and ipad wallpaper. also, you keep a secret box on your side of the closet where you put all the receipts from our dates…”

a few seconds of silence follow your words.

when you lean to your side to finally catch a glimpse of your quiet boyfriend, it turns out he’s looking right back at you, a surprised expression painted on his face: “i didn’t know you knew about the box.”

suddenly, he gets the funny sensation that you’re definitely going to win this round.

“i know many things” you affirm, a satisfied smile on your lips as you keep going: “i know that you always keep one of my doodles in your phone case. i know that you bought duplicates of my skincare products to keep in your car as an emergency kit. and i also may or may not have heard you talk to seungkwan about me…”

this time, it’s a loud bang that comes to punctuate your sentence. but before you can even start to worry, chan yells a reassuring “i’m okay!” before getting out of there once again, “just dropped my tool, that’s all. but now let’s circle back to what you just said…”

with a chuckle, you notice a slight embarrassment spreading on his face, his cheeks turning a familiar shade of pink.

your relationship has never been a secret, so it wasn’t a surprise to know that he likely spoke about you to the other members. however, you hadn’t truly considered the nature of those conversations until a few months ago, when you had sort of eavesdropped on a discussion.

“don’t be embarrassed” you reassure him, a playful spark in your eyes: “it was nice to hear you describe us as a “perfect match” and feeling like “a married couple already, but in the best possible way”.

at this point, his surrender is palpable. “okay, you win. maybe i am a simp,” he concedes, a mixture of defeat and self-consciousness coloring his voice. his shoulders sag slightly, but his gaze is still full of affection. “i can’t deny it anymore. just like i can’t deny that I’m not a handyman. i actually have no idea if I’m fixing this thing or just making it worse.”

“i think it’s time to leave the plumbing to the experts,” you tease, taking the screwdriver out of his hands, “let’s bail on this floor and go cuddle on the couch; i’ll order some proper food.”

with just those words, he flashes you a bright smile, one that you know so well you could sketch it from memory. as he rises to his feet, he looks at you earnestly: “i meant what i said to seungkwan, you know,” he confesses, his voice softer than usual.

you take a brief moment to let his words and his sincerity sink in: “i know, baby,” you reply, your own voice matching his softness as you grab his hand to get up. “and that’s exactly how i feel too.”

his smile grows even bigger, relieved to see that you not only understand the depth of his love for you, but reflect it back to him as well. it’s all he’s ever hoped for, really — to find someone he could trust implicitly, someone he could pour all his love into, knowing it would be returned with the same intensity.

“we really are made for each other,” he states, giving you a proud nod as he pulls you close, arms wrapped around your waist.

“yeah, look at us. in love, both clueless about fixing that sink. perfect match.”

with a heartfelt laugh, chan gently rests his hand on your neck, pulling you closer for a kiss; the kind that lingers for a few more seconds than what you expected. just enough time for the both of you to think about how lucky you are to have found each other in this lifetime.

requests are open!

#can’t believe it’s my first time writing for dino i’m so ashamed #but it’s finally here!!!!!#dinonaras rejoice!!!!#seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #dino x reader #dino fluff #dino imagines #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff

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rebeltarot · 2 months

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FUTURE SPOUSE ➕ VDay Special - Love Letter from your Future Spouse

“I was, and I remain, utterly and completely and totally in love with you.”

[3 piles] ・ [5 decks] ・ [29-39 cards for each pile] ・ [letters, quotes, songs]

Hello friends! It's almost Valentine's Day, and I am so excited to share this Special with you. What are your plans for this Valentine's Day? Are you spending it with a cherished person, your friends, or are you your own Valentine this year? Definitely let me know. I love holidays that bring people together which is why I dedicated a reading for it. Enjoy.

Painting: Diana and Cupid - Pompeo Batoni (1761)

Helpful Links: How to choose your pile ➕ Request a reading

18+ only - This is not a blog for minors. Warnings: Some piles have sexual innuendos.

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 01 ➕

Disclaimer: All Tarot readings on this blog are meant for entertainment purposes only. My Pick-a-card readings are based on my knowledge of the tarot and my intuition. Tarot is a divination tool and should not be considered a replacement for medical or professional guidance. It is not intended to be used as such, and any choices made in response to my readings are your own responsibility. All interpretations are speculative, and whether you believe in it is your choice. Readings are for self-reflection purposes only; take what resonates, and leave the rest. My readings are timeless unless stated otherwise.

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

B, L, A, I, N, E, H, blank, 11:33, 11

Quote: Even if the stars fail to shine and the moon refuses to light up the world, I know I have nothing to fear. I have my guardian angel to look after me, care for me and love me forever and always. I love you!

Song: Love Me More - Sam Smith

LOVE LETTER FROM YOUR SPOUSE

Cards: Dear, Always by your side, I want to start a family with you, I am open to compromise, I have an offer for you, I am lost without you, It was always you, My nerves have been getting the best of me, Yeah nah, We have known each other in other lifetimes, I left because you told me to, I was in denial, You have so many choices and options, Make space for it, dance with me make me sway, I like it like that, destined, you cam to me at a time when my heart was selective, I'm a slave for your love, You don't own me, I don't wanna play no games, New beginnings, Feminine moon, Childhood, Wealth, Support, Ego death, Tower moment, Crush, Evil eyes

Hello, Pile 01, and welcome to your reading. How are you spending this Valentine's Day? Your spouse has a message for you, enjoy!

Dear Pile 01,

To us, distance is nothing. You’re right here in my heart, and I love you more than ever. It's impossible to put into words how much I love you or to describe how you make me feel, but that doesn't stop me from trying. You are my home, the person I trust with everything. There is no one else I would rather start a family with. It could just be you and me, or mini versions of us as well. I am more than willing to compromise with you because, at the end of the day, you are all I need and want. And I am not embarrassed to say that I need you, because I do. You, to me, are a want that turned into a need. There is no going back after knowing you. I can't possibly deny myself the magic that is loving you, so I have an offer for you, and that is my love, my devotion, and my forever. It could all be yours; you just have to say the word. I am lost without you, and there is just no one else who could even compare. It has always been you. You. You. You. Lately, my nerves have been getting the best of me. Could you tell? Did you feel my anxiety? I hope not. But if you did, I find solace in our connection. Your energy feels like home. It's like history has threaded us together and made us one. I know you. And I have known you for lifetimes. I apologize for having left you. It wasn't easy, but I respected your wishes. Honestly, I was just so afraid of your rejection that I cowardly believed you when you said I should go. I was in denial. It's intimidating to see how many people see what I see in you. How many other people are willing to risk it all for you! I can't claim to not understand, though, because here I am doing the same. Your light and your energy are just impossible to ignore and unsee. But I am working on myself. I am actively making space for you and us.

There is just no one who does it like you do. Your energy and your eyes compel me to do things I had never considered before. You are the only person—no, angel—that can ever make me sway. For you, I'll second-guess everything. For you, I'll leave everything. And I like it like that. I wouldn't change it, and I wouldn't have it any other way. You have so much power over me, but I trust you. You could do anything you wanted and ask for the world, and I would give it to you. But I know that, despite everything, you will never hurt me. No, you would never take advantage of me. With you, I am safe. And with me, you are safe. We are destined, my love. There is no way around us. When we met, I was selective with the people in my life, but you just made your way into my world effortlessly. Like it was nothing. Like there wasn't any wall built around my heart. It's as if you have always belonged. And you are right; you have. I am a slave to your love. But although I am bound to you, I am still free. There is nothing about you that makes sense, and simultaneously, you are the answer to every question I have. I want to be crystal clear with you. It's you. And I have no intention to play any games or make our journey any harder. You don't have to prove yourself to me. You are enough just the way you are and exactly as you come.

I want a new beginning for us. I dream of a fresh start with you. You are my counterpart, and we are connected in every realm possible. I feel you, always. I understand you, always. I feel honored to see every side of you, and I am so blessed to learn about the wonder of the world that is you. You are a person who is so rich and abundant and so full of life that I just can't stay away from you, ever. I want to help you and support you through everything. For you, I would take on the hardest challenges and the scariest obstacles out there. If it helps you, soothes you, or even puts a smile on your face, there is nothing that could stop me from jumping without being afraid of falling. I am there for you, always. I am around you every second of the day. Because, darling, I love you. I would die a thousand deaths for you. Whatever you need me to do or whatever you need me to be, just say the word. Nothing will ever tear us apart. I love you so much that even Cupid is jealous.

Always by your side, your future spouse.

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 02 ➕

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

P, E, N, T, T, O, O, C, 11:40, message/dm, sirens

Quote: I want to drown with your lips, in the ocean of our kiss.

Song: Lemonade - Internet Money, Gunna, Don Toliver, NAV

LOVE LETTER FROM YOUR SPOUSE

Cards: My dream come true, With all my love, I respect you, Let me hold you, I am absolutely in love with you, I am coming trust, I am healing my broken heart, You light up my life, Love is not fair, I have been distracted, Yeah nah, We have known each other in other lifetimes, I am lost without you, I was always you, I talk about you a lot, You are too far away, If I follow you I could lose everything, We are from two different worlds, Clarity of mind, You make me want to do better and try harder, You like me mad you think it's funny, I hear your messages in songs, Baby would you ever want to be my girlfriend, You touch me like no other, Sexual energy, Who do you love, Follow me into the dark break up a piece of your heart, I'm facing my truth, Do you want me the way I want you, Masculine Sun, Trust, Helplessness, Clash, Unwanted change, True love, Power, Child:wounded, Trauma, Confession

Hello, Pile 02, and welcome to your reading. How are you spending this Valentine's Day? Your spouse has a message for you, enjoy!

My dream come true,

I want to get drunk in your skin, as it glistens drops of love, pouring from our sin. You are the essence of life for me. I respect you. Your thoughts, your ideas, your words, your willpower, and your intelligence. All of you! I am yearning for you; please, just let me hold you. I am absolutely and irrevocably in love with you. Darling, soon. Soon I'll be able to hold you, touch you, and breathe in your scent. I am coming; trust me. There is nothing that would ever be strong enough to keep me away from you. I am healing myself so I can be there for you wholeheartedly. My heart was broken before, but for you, I'll risk another heartbreak. For you, I'll even risk my life. Because you, my dearest of all, light up my life, my entire world, even. Although love might not be fair, when it comes to you, I'll give up everything without asking for anything in return. Lately, I have been all over the place and distracted, and I apologize. Although that is true, and although I am healing and hurting; my mind, my heart, and my energy, all of me still can't stay away from you. We have known each other for lifetimes. You are no secret to me, and I am no secret to you. Without you, I am lost. You are my guiding light, and you are the sole reason why I am finding my way back to myself. You are my only motivation and my only inspiration. It was always you, my love. There is no confusion here. No matter our pasts, it all eventually leads to us. That is the only logical conclusion. The only thing that makes sense. You and me. I talk about you often, you know. I tell everyone and everything about the wonder that is you. But you are still so far away from me. Following you could cost me everything I have. You and I are from two different worlds. Worlds that are not compatible. And although it's everything I have known thus far, I will abandon it instantly. I will sacrifice everything so I can be with you. Because you clearly do not understand that everything I have had is just a fraction of everything that you are. I am not losing. With you, I am only winning. So no, I am not sad about it. And no, I will never regret it. This is something that I will never question, and believe me, I'll make the same choice over and over again. With you, there is no confusion, no doubt, just clarity. Wherever you are is my home.

You make me want to do better. You inspire me to grow, to change, and to open myself up and be vulnerable. I am an intimidating person, but to you, that means nothing. You just laugh when I get mad because you think it's funny. And because you trust me. My god, your trust is just as sweet as honey. It's worth all the gold in the world. It's worth all that I have. We are connected, always. Even if I am not in your life right now, I can still hear your messages. You are in everything that surrounds me, but especially in the songs I hear. You are in the lyrics that capture my attention and in the melodies that move me to tears. It was never hard for you to reach my heart, because for you, there are no barriers. With you, I am open and vulnerable. Would you ever consider being with me? It's a silly question, right? But will you be my Valentine? forever? Until we both lose our breath and beyond that? Everything pulls me toward you. Like a magnet, I always find myself around you, touching you, kissing you, and pleasing you. No one heats me like you do. One simple touch and I am a puddle, water bending at your command. I have never experienced such an attraction before. I am a composed person, hardly shakable. But it takes one single look—the tiniest microexpression—and I am ready to go. I am ready to worship. Who do you love? Is it me? Will you choose to spend the rest of your life by my side? I am aware of other energies. And I have to admit that it startles me. It scares me. The slightest possibility of losing you instills fear within me that rattles my bones. Nothing, absolutely nothing, in existence puts me in as much fear as the idea, the tiniest thought, of losing you. Are you as deeply in love as I am? I want you to be. I want to touch your heart as much as you touch mine. I want to make your body ache for me as much as my body aches for you. Let's get entangled in our passion and stay here forever. I want—no, I need your love. Do you want me the way that I want you? When you are in love, in true, deep love, there is no way around facing yourself. And I am facing my truth right now, so I can be the best version of myself. You don't deserve any less than that.

I want to be strong for you. I want you to be able to rely on me. I want to provide for you. Your trust—it's the only thing I need in this life. No, your love. It's my life elixir. I am helpless without you. We're just like fire melting into ice, and I love the way that we collide. I'm pitch black, drowning’ in your light, and you are the only one who can put me in my place. You are the only person who can set my whole world on fire. My equal. And I would not have it any other way. I know that our paths to each other lead through loss and tears. You have to let go of something to be with me, just as I have to let go of everything to be with you. It's a change that neither of us asked for, but if it leads us to each other, if it leads us to true love, isn't it worth it? You are so breathtakingly powerful. A force to be reckoned with. The entire world trembles to see your beauty, your power, and your intelligence. You are the only person I trust, the only person who will ever know me for everything that I am. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It's all yours. There is no point in hiding it; you see through me so effortlessly.

With all my love, Your future spouse

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 03 ➕

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

S, U, R, E, B, E, U, I, blank, 11:47, sirens

Quote: I want to make love with my tongue, and whisper kisses, through your mind, until your body comes, undone- Body language.

Song: LAW - Yoon Mirae, BIBI

LOVE LETTER FROM YOUR SPOUSE

Cards: My cherished, Devotionally yours, I don't think I ever truly knew you, I left because you told me to, I hold back because I don't want to be rejected, Other opinions have clouded my vision, I don't want to lose you, Definitely, My surroundings don't approve, I need more time, I was a fool, We are too different, I'm ready, I think we should slow down, It's ok to feel feelings, I hope we can love through the pain after the honeymoon fades, I wanna marry those eyes, Sexual energy, I don't understand, You don't own me, Baby would you ever want to be my girlfriend, don't be scared I ain't afraid, Love making, Judgement, Surprise, Withdrawal, Tower Moment, Support, Privilege

Hello, Pile 03, and welcome to your reading. How are you spending this Valentine's Day? Your spouse has a message for you, enjoy!

My cherished Pile 03,

If there is a parallel universe, I will fight through the stars to find you. Darling, I don't think I ever truly knew you. I don't think I will ever truly know you. You are the entire cosmos, ever-changing, and it will take lifetimes, if not forever, to discover everything that makes you you. I am sorry that I left. I turned away from you and us because you told me to. And I hold back because I don't want to be rejected. Losing you once has nearly broken me; I don't think I'd be able to survive another time. There is so much noise around us. There are so many opinions and so many views that have clouded my vision. I am confused. I don't want to lose you. ever. I exist, so I can live on a planet graced by your presence. Just knowing that you are alive and well keeps me going, and it makes life worth living. Your presence humbles me to the point where just breathing the same air as you feels like a blessing. There are people in my life who are jealous of our connection. People who do not approve of us being together. I need more time to sort out all the thoughts in my head. So many doubts have been planted in my mind that I need space to clear out the clutter that clouds my vision. I was a fool. Such a fool! I regret hurting you. I loathe that I was the cause of your hurt, the cause of your tears. We are so different, yet we get along so well. I am ready for you, darling, but I think we need to take things slow. Rushing into it will only hurt us. It's okay to feel your feelings. Love, true love, evokes so many emotions in us. It makes us feel deeply, and it makes us hurt deeply too.

I hope that we can love through the pain, even if our honeymoon fades, even once you take off your rose-colored glasses. Your eyes. Oh my god, your eyes. I want to marry them. You bring me to my knees with your gaze. I have never met a person before who had me in a chokehold like you. I don't understand it, and it confuses me. When you look at me with your beautiful and hypnotizing eyes, I'll say yes to anything. Whatever you want, it's yours. You don't own me, not yet. I am not yours, and you are not mine. But would you be my forever person? Would you marry me? I know it feels like a big commitment, one that might scare you. But it doesn't scare me; it never will, because I trust you. I yearn for you deeply and passionately. I imagine us making love. I imagine you, naked, looking into my eyes and screaming my name. Don't judge me, please. I just can't help it. The pull you have on me is just as surprising for me as it is for you. I might be withdrawing right now, but it's because I need to collect my power and my energy, so I am ready for the change that is you. For the new beginning and world that you promise. I want you; I crave you. It's primal. I want to support you, I want to be strong for you, and I want to earn the privilege that is your love.

Devotionally yours, Your future spouse.

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

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princessbrunette · 6 days

Note

thinking about calling pogue!rafe over because your hot water isn’t working and he’s acting all annoyed but he’s lowkey kicking his feet at the fact that he gets to be in your home. maybe even asking him to stay after your shower so you can cook him something as a reward and play house for a bit 🩷🩷🩷

ೀ 🐰 ‧ ˚ 🪽 ⊹˚. ♡

my favourite thing about pogue!rafe is that he acts soooo inconvenienced by your presence. he hates kooks, think they’re so stuck up — so he can’t help but feel to push you away. always referring to you as a ‘stuck up little girl’ whilst he’s only a couple of years older than you. he’d done some work on the house before, and whilst your parents are away you literally don’t know who to call to fix your hot water problem so you try him, pacing around your room.

at first during your call, he tells you he’s got a shit tonne of work to be doing on other houses and doesn’t have time to drop everything for a kook princess. he can practically see your little pout through the phone, but keeps up his attitude until you thank him for his time anyway, sadly throwing out a little “no, i understand it’s okay. i’ll probably just hit up that jj maybank. i heard he’s pretty handy.” and suddenly he’s changed his tune, physically sitting up from his slouched position to be all “shit, okay fine… fine. i’ll be there in twenty minutes just — just don’t call anyone else a’ight?”

he’s sulking when he turns up with his tool box and that muscle tank and shorts with paint and dirt on them — unable to stop sucking on your bottom lip because he’s just so big and strong. he’s ignoring your lustful gaze with everything in him as he walks through to your bathroom. “lets just get this out the way, yeah?” he drawls as he gets to work.

you sit on the sink and swing your legs, not leaving him alone as he works simply chatting his ear off, seemingly unphased by his blunt replies, finding creative ways to shut you down like reminding you “yeah, uh you’re my little sisters age.” however you seemed totally unscathed, only working harder to prove you’re grown enough to take him.

“should be workin’ fine now so uh… just wire me the money n’we’ll be good. doin’ overtime right now so i kinda just wanna go home.” he waves you off and you step infront of him.

“you’re finished working?”

“di’nt i just say that kid?” he drawls and you grin, dragging him to your lounge.

“perfect! look i really wanna thank you specially for bein’ so helpful to me even though it’s clear you don’t want to. let me cook you dinner. please? i got beer and uh… i’ll make it really good. oh please rafe, my parents are away and i’m all alone.”

he sighs like it tortures his whole being, but he couldn’t deny that your house was super nice — nicer to hang out in than his shitty little fishing shack that he calls a home. he’d heard the cops had been sniffing around for him wanting to talk about a little ‘altercation’ he recently wound up in and didn’t have the energy to deal with that. no one would suspect him in the kook princess headquarters.

he cracks open a beer and lounges on your couch watching tv as you prepare the food for him before sticking everything in the oven and heading upstairs to shower. he doesn’t notice your presence disappear until you’ve returned in the tiniest little night gown and damp hair, leading him to the dining room where you serve up his food.

“some real housewife shit, huh?” he can’t hold back his smile as you seat him infront of a hearty meal. you feel all warm at the implication, shrugging modestly.

it’s inevitable that you wind up in his lap after he’s eaten, having sat with him and flirted — leaning over the table with your tits practically spilling out. you can’t quite recall how you got there, in between telling him you had nothing on under the nightgown and him telling you that it wasn’t his fault that men had primal instincts or some shit like that — but soon he was pulling your dress up to your waist and stuffing himself inside you, roughly fucking up into you.

“oww, rafey!” you whine at how rough he’s being with you, not used to being treated like anything but a princess. he can tell it’s an act though, and you truly do love it from the way your walls contract around him.

“nah, nah you knew what you were doin’ inviting me here. what were — were you just sittin’ around with a fuckin’ wet pussy waitin’ on your moment to invite me round n’let you fuck on me? huh? that was this is?” he bucks his hips, holding onto you to completely take control from below, bashing you against the table with each thrust that was certain to leave bruises.

you whimper, pressing your body to his trying to win over some affection as you sniffle. “just got such a crush on you, rafe.” you mewl and he scoffs, taking that moment to pick you up in his lap and place you on the dining room table instead, gaining more control so he could keep rutting into you.

“sick’a you little kook girls tryn’a — tryn’a use me like im some little experiment that you can toss to the side afterwards.” he complains, gripping your hips and practically using you like a toy. if he wasn’t holding you up, you’d be completely limp.

“dont want you with other girls! not — not gonna get rid of you i just want you.” you defend, and finally he slows his punishing pace to catch his breath, staring down at you analytically with parted lips, dick twitching inside you at the confession.

“that right?” he deadpans and you nod, teary eyed. “that why you let me in this princess cunt raw? huh? no protection or nothin’? just… just hoping i pull out? ha…” he chuckles maliciously, starting to push in deeper once more, upping his pace just a tad. “yeah… yeah maybe i should nut right in here—” he caresses your lower tummy making you whimper, completely at his mercy with your legs split. “knock up some kook pussy. won’t just be a phase then will i? nah baby… nah you’d be stuck with me for life.”

he’s got a sick smile on his face, but what he’s not expecting is for you to grip the back of his neck, your bottom lip wobbling with a serious look in your eyes. “do it.” you command and his face drops a little, realising that maybe he was dealing with a girl that had it bad for him. that, or you’re trying to get some sort of revenge on your parents. either option made his dick throb.

ೀ 🐰 ‧ ˚ 🪽 ⊹˚. ♡

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #pogue!rafe

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 12 - Somnophilia

Soap x Reader - 5.5k (on ao3)

summary: Your doctor offers to help you get home after your lasik eye surgery. (Reader POV & Johnny POV)

cw: noncon sex, drugging, kidnapping, briefly mentioned lasik eye surgery (no description past one mention of a scalpel)

note: tysm to ceil for giving me this idea <3 i did a few google searches on lasik eye surgery and tried to mention the actual feelings as little as possible, and also the drug johnny uses is probably literally impossible but its fic so who cares lol

“And… how long did you say I have to wear these?” You ask, tentatively touching the glasses resting over your eyes.

“Och, not long at all. Just until tonight, then you come in for a check-up tomorrow afternoon and I’ll let you know what other care you’ll need.” Dr. MacTavish replies, big hands adjusting the frames and pushing them up your nose.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are they usually painted like this?” You’d hardly been able to see post lasik-surgery - mostly just big swaths of color - but you feel far more vulnerable with the sunglasses on, their blacked out lenses leaving you entirely in the dark except for the blurry light around the rims.

Your doctor’s laugh is low and comforting, his hand patting you on the shoulder before you hear him moving away. “Of course. Not all optometrists use them, but I’ve found for patients like you they have the best results.”

“Like me?”

“Yes,” another chuckle, and the sounds of what you assume are tools being put away. “Patients who struggle to be good and sit still during their surgery.”

“Ah.” You feel your cheeks go hot in embarrassment. “I really am sorry about that…”

“No need,” he reassures, his hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You can’t help but jerk a little, the glasses slipping down your nose. “Oops, don’t be losin’ those, bonnie.”

Your cheeks go hot and you have to fight the urge not to reach up and fix them yourself since his hand gets their first. He rights them quickly, then taps the tip of your nose with a finger. “There you go. Let’s keep those where they should be, hm?” He gives the nape of your neck a squeeze, his palm warm and rough, and you do your best to nod without awkwardly dislodging him.

“Now, do you have a ride home?”

You suck your teeth a little at that. You hadn’t known you’d be wearing the dark glasses after - the care plan you and Dr. MacTavish had discussed beforehand had made it seem like you’d be able to ride the bus home, but you’re not comfortable doing that in your blinded state.

“Ah, not right now,” you start, tangling your fingers together in your lap to avoid rubbing at your itchy eyes. “But I can probably call a friend-”

“Nonsense,” Dr. MacTavish dismisses, moving away from you and back to whatever he’d been moving before. “You’re my last patient of the day, how about I give you a ride home?”

“Oh,” you start, startled at his offer. “Oh, that’s… no, that’s alright, Doctor. I’m sure one of my friends could-”

He interrupts you with a tsk, and suddenly there’s a hand at your elbows guiding you up, then just one as he walks you out of the office. “No, that won’t do. We need to get you home and in bed as soon as possible - it’s not good for you to be keeping your eyes open so much after surgery, you know.”

“Oh, really?” You gasp a little, letting him guide you. “Should I be keeping them closed? I don’t want to make anything worse…”

“You’re doing just fine, bonnie, no worries.” The hand on your elbow squeezes as you come to a stop, and you hear the sound of something being written on. “I’ll take good care of you now. C’mon.” What must be a pen is dropped onto what you can only assume is the front counter, and you’re guided forward again. “We’ll have you safe at home in no time.”

Dr. MacTavish’s car is nice - the seats aren’t cracking at all, the air conditioning works to cool the interior quickly, there’s a faint minty smell - but it disconcerts you more than you might’ve expected to be left completely blind in an unfamiliar environment, and with someone you don’t know past a professional relationship.

You give him your address after he buckles you in (you swear his hand brushes your chest, but it doesn’t linger and you don’t want to accuse him of something unfounded just because of a slight touch) and he doesn’t bother to input it into the GPS, tells you he already knows where the neighborhood is.

You haven’t felt so vulnerable in a long time. Even around the edge of the glasses, all you can see are blurs of color, and you feel oddly exposed without the ability to see. Your eyes itch and sting, and it takes conscious effort not to rub the feeling away.

You lift a hand to rub them without even thinking but before it’s even halfway to your face Dr. MacTavish grabs it, pinning it to your thigh and making a low noise of dissent. “No rubbing now, lass, you know the rules.”

The heat creeping up your neck is entirely involuntary, and you tuck your free hand beneath your leg to resist the urge to squirm. “Right, of course, I’m sorry Dr. MacTavish.”

“Johnny, lass, no need for titles off the clock.”

You try to make a vague noise of understanding but end up sounding a bit like a bird, your hand clammy beneath his. He gives you a squeeze, but doesn’t let go. You’d ask him to move but… well, you don’t want to make things awkward when he’s your only way home at the moment and you figure he’s just helping. So you try to relax your fingers, and zone out to the sound of him humming along to the radio.

“Here we are,” he announces eventually, the car slowing to a stop before he turns into your driveway. “Nice neighborhood, hen. Very safe.”

You try to laugh casually and cringe when it just comes off as awkward - you’re unsure how to naviagte small-talk when all you really want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. “I just moved here recently, but it seems to be a pleasant area. I certainly don’t have any complaints.”

Dr. MacTavish - Johnny - hums in response, turning the car off and getting out to come to your side. He unbuckles you quickly and again there’s a little voice in the back of your head that says his hand lingered by your waist for just a few beats too long. But his fingers don’t venture anywhere appropriate, and you tell yourself that you’re seeing something that isn’t really there.

He keeps a hold of your elbow as he guides you up the stairs and into your building. He pauses and then a moment later you hear a ding, and the clear familiar sound of an elevator opening.

“Oh,” you say, shocked as he tugs you forward. “I had no idea the elevator was fixed - it’s been out of order since I moved in.”

“Really?” You hear press a button.

You stand there in silence for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, before you feel the elevator start to move.

“Um, Dr Ma- Johnny, what floor did you pick?”

There’s a pause before he answers, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Och, silly me,” Johnny laughs, the sound echoing in the metal walls. “Force of habit, bonnie, I picked my floor in my building. What’s yours?”

You try to laugh it off, but the way his fingers tighten almost imperceptiably against the crook of your elbow has you sounding a bit too stiff. “Four, please.”

“Four,” he hums, and you hear him press another button.

The ride up is a bit awkward, at least from your perspective. Johnny makes no attempt at conversation past the occasional hum along to the music, and you’re a little too on edge to worry about small-talk right now.

Calm down, you insist to yourself. He’s just being polite. Making sure you get home safe. You’ve got to stop seeing the worst in people.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to relax.

There’s a slightly uncomfortable silence when the door opens for the first time, both you and Johnny just waiting for it to close and take you to the proper floor.

The doors are much quicker to open the third time, and you figure Johnny must live on the third or fifth floor in his own building for you to have gotten to your floor so quickly.

“What’s your apartment number, lass?”

You tell him, and his hold loosens slightly against your arm. There’s a part of you - the part still a little cautious for reasons you can’t quite name - that relaxes when the path he takes is familiar. Only a few steps, apartment on the right side of the hall.

“Let me get my keys,” you mumble, tugging your arm away from his and pulling your keychain out of your pocket. You’d opted not to bring a purse to your surgery, thinking you’d be riding the bus home mostly blind, so you’ve got virtually nothing to dig through before offering your keyring up.

They’re taken, you hear the familiar jungling soun, and then you’re being guided into your apartment by a firm hand placed at the small of your back. You can’t help but sigh deeply in relief, the familiarity of your home a comfort when you still feel so unachored without your sight.

“Very cute place you’ve got,” Johnny compliments, a smile audible in his voice.

“Thank you.” You hesitate just a moment before going on, unsure of how to phrase your next sentence. “And thank you for all the help getting home, Doctor, I really do appreciate it.”

A.k.a., I’m safe, you can leave.

“Aye, of course!” Johnny says, sounding almost offended like you were implying he wouldn’t usually take his patients home. Another part of you relaxes - he probably does this for every patient he sees at the end of a workday, you’re certainly nothing special. “Now, let’s get you settled nice and snug in bed, and then I’ll be on my merry way.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense!” You’re cut off as he drops a heavy hand onto the nape of your neck, ignoring your slightly dramatic flinch and guiding you forward. “I’ve gotten you this far, would be a shame if I left you now and you took a tumble, hm?”

“I think I can get around my own apartment well enough, “ you try to protest, a little huff of offense escaping without your permission.

“Well, now we won’t have to test that theory.”

He moves quickly and just seconds later you’re sort of shoved onto your bed - almost oddly high off the ground, but you chalk it up to the way you stumble onto it.

Johnny scoops your feet up, laughs a little at your yelp and lays you out on the bed. You blink up into the dark glasses, a little gobsmacked at the sudden shift and odd amount of manhandling from the doctor.

“Do you have any pain meds, love? We wouldn’t want you wakin’ up in the middle of the night, all uncomfortable and hurt. Something light, like Advil or Tylenol?”

“Um, yes,” you stutter a bit, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and glancing up at where you hear his voice. “In my bathroom, on the counter. But Dr. MacTav-”

A hand presses into the center of your chest, forcing you back to the bed with a little oof before your hear him walk away. “Johnny, lass! What’ll I have to do to get you to call me the proper name, hm?”

His voice is almost jovial, and you hear him muttering to himself a bit through the open door of your bathroom before he returns. You hear water running for a moment, and then his shoes on the carpet of your bedroom as he comes back.

“Here,” he says as he grasps your hand, holding it palm open and dropping two pills into it. “And you had a spare cup in the bathroom, so you won’t have to swallow dry.”

“Thank… thank you, Doc- Johnny, truly, I appreciate it.”

You swallow dryly, suddenly thankful for the glass of water. The pills are small in your palm, familiar but there’s something in the back of your head screaming at you. You run your fingers over them absentmindidly, the stinging itch in your eyes growing.

Johnny scoops an arm around your shoulders, helping you sit up a bit and guiding the glass to your lips. “Here you are, lass, quick sip.”

You listen, then pop the pills into your mouth and swallow them with the water.

“Good girl,” Johnny hums, his voice vibrating through your side. His hand squeezes the shoulder in his grasp, and you shudder out a breath at the odd… intimacy? That doesn’t quite feel like the right word, but affection feels too distant for how close he holds himself.

You’re guided back down, head resting on a somewhat-flat pillow, and Johnny moves down to the end of the bed to take off your shoes.

Now that you’re resting in bed, it hits you how exhausted you are. The past few days of worrying over your procedure, the actual stress of the surgery itself, and the odd tension you’ve carried since all leave you feeling drained entirely once your head hits the pillow.

“We’ll get these shoes off so you’re nice and comfortable,” you hear Johnny say, his voice a little muffled now that you’re nearly half-asleep already. “Tired, lass?”

You only hum a bit, curling onto your side once both of your shoes are off, the sound of them thudding on the carpet almost silent. Your nose scrunches a bit as you get your first scent of the pillow. It doesn’t quite smell right, the lingering air of shampoo is definitely not one you’re familiar with.

There’s a shift of weight against your back, then a hand stroking over your head.

“Just sleep, bonnie. I’ll watch out for you.”

There’s a part of you, still awake enough, that thinks that isn’t right. But the more major part of you is already asleep.

———————————————————————

Johnny can’t help but smile as he watches you sleep. The little trail of drool dripping from your lips onto his pillow, the soft sounds of your breathing, the twitches to your expression as you dream.

You’re truly adorable. He’d known it as soon as you came for a consultation about the surgery, and every moment spent after has only cemented that in his head. Even the way you tensed and squirmed in his chair while he was working was cute, your desperation to be good and listen overpowering your fear of what he was doing.

He reflects on the day as he gets undressed, folding his clothes on your dresser. You’d been very nervous, and even his most soothing tone and friendly conversation topics hadn’t done much to help. It’s natural - nobody’s ever at ease with a scalpel held over their eye - but he’d still felt a little dissapointed that his presense wasn’t of much help calming you down.

But it’s alright. You’ll learn very soon that you can trust him.

It was easier than he’d expected to get you back to his home. You’re far too trusting, apparently - another reason it’s for the best if he keeps an eye on you - and past some clear tension in your stance, you hadn’t fought him once or even tried to make sure he had taken you to the right place.

Johnny’s certainly not going to complain, though. His plan had been half-baked at best. Honestly if you’d even put up a slight bit of resistance, he probably would have taken you back home - your home - and gone back to the drawing board.

He can’t help but smile a bit. The fact that you hadn’t fought at all is just more proof that this was meant to be.

He climbs over your body, his naked skin brushing against your clothes. You don’t shift at all as he rolls you to your back, your face still relaxed in sleep. His smile grows.

“Pretty girl,” he coos, brushing a hand over your face. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

It’s easy to push your shirt up your stomach. He doesn’t take it off, not quite willing to risk that much movement while the drugs could still be settling in.

God, the way you’d just taken his pills with no hesitation, with just complete and total trust in him to do right by you. It makes his cock stifen against your stomach, the way you’d just listened and trusted him.

He moans as he finally pushes your shirt up to your collarbones, the sight of your tits bringing him to full hardness almost immediately. You’d dressed up for him, soft white lace wrapped around your beautiful chest.

He ducks down to suck a peak into his mouth, tonguing at a nipple through the fabric. He groans a bit at the taste of your skin, muted as it is, and quickly tugs down the cup of the bra to get a real bite of you.

He could lay there at your tits for hours, he just knows it. He kisses his way across your chest, gives your other nipple some love and thumbing at the first with a free hand. He forces his movements to stay soft and slow, resists the urge to bite and leave a ring of teeth marks around your areola.

“Taste so good, baby,” he whispers as he pushes himself up, admiring the shiny spit across your skin. He rubs it in a little, spreading himself across any place his lips hadn’t touched. “Gonna let me get a taste of your pussy too?”

Obviously you don’t respond. Still, Johnny smiles down at you and moves to pet your stomach.

“Yeah, I know you will. Just wanna be a good girl for me, hm?”

Of course you do, he already knows you’ll be good to him - be good for him.

It’s easy to wrap his hands around your waist and flip you gently to your stomach. He guides your head to the side and pulls your hair away to make sure he can get a good view of your pretty face, leans down to give you a soft kiss on the cheek and breathes in the scent of your bodywash and shampoo.

Your pants are easy enough to get off, and he forces himself to tug them all the way off both legs before even looking at your sweet little ass. He’d been staring at any chance he could all day, had kept his eyes glued to your backside for the entire elevator ride up to his apartment when he was sure you couldn’t see his leering.

Now he can’t help but groan aloud when he kneels over your thighs, the sight of you vulnerable and limp beneath him almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, spread your knees for me, lass,” he mutters, slowly moving your legs to the side and moving between them. He’s careful as he props you up onto your knees, folding them beneath you and making sure to balance you with one hand on your hip so you don’t fall to the side.

He’s nearly drooling as he gets his first sight of your core - lips just slightly spread, pretty pink pussy peeking out at him. It’s almost too much, he has to give himself a few quick jerks just to lessen the ache building in his cock.

“Look at you,” he says on a sigh, dipping his head low enough to breathe in your scent. He hikes your hips up a little higher to keep you at the right angle, quickly shushes your little noise of discontent at the shift.

“It’s alright, you’re ok,” he reassures, petting over your hip a few times to calm your unconscious mind. “Just wanna make you feel good, pretty thing. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

He licks you, from clit to ass, to help you calm down a bit more. It works - your body goes a little more limp in his hold, your back arching more easily into the position he wants. He licks you several more times, groaning as he tries to cover every inch of your cunt, tasting every piece of skin he can. He lays his tongue flat at first, then uses the tip to make sure he doesn’t miss a spot.

“So good,” he moans, burying his face into your center and just breathing there for a moment. There’s a little bit of slick beginning to drip from your hole, but not much. He licks it up anyway, savoring the taste and promising to feast later.

He stays glued to your clit for a bit, taking the little bud between his lips and running the tip of his tongue over it again and again until he finds the exact spot that makes your thighs twitch, the pattern that has you whining every other breath.

Johnny moves back up, laps at the sweet nectar dripping steadily from you now. Every little flick of his tongue arouses you more, and no matter how long he keeps his mouth on you he knows he’d never run out of your taste.

It’s with only a bit of reluctance that he pulls away. He spreads both of your cheeks with his palms, admiring your two tight little holes and the sheen covering your most sensitive spots. He’d like to give your ass a few smacks, paint it red and watch you squirm, but he’s not sure how much sensation he can give you without pulling you from the drugs’ hold.

Which is also why he tucks a few fingers into your cunt, just to stretch you out. He’d like to fuck into you without any prep at all, watch your pretty face scrunch up as you’re spread on the thickest cock you’d ever taken (and he knows he’s the biggest you’ve had). Maybe you would even cry a little, blink teary eyes up at him and ask him to slow down.

He groans at the image, scissoring his fingers inside of you to prepare you as quickly as he can.

It’s easy to ease himself forward and line his cockhead up with your little hole. He knows another finger would’ve been a kindness, but with how his cock throbs between his legs he’s not sure he’ll make it very long once he’s finally inside of you.

So he taps the tip against your leaking hole, snorts quietly when the thought pops into his head that he’s almost knocking on a door, then slowly lets himself sink inside of your heat. He’s stares transfixed at the way your body opens for him so easily, a smooth coming together that he wishes he never had to look away from.

He keeps a secure grip on your hips, letting gravity do most of the work as his hips push forward steadily. His head rolls back on his neck, mouth hanging open and grunts spilling from his lips as your tight heat envelops him further and further.

He pauses halfway in to take a breather, just so he doesn’t come before his balls even meet your clit. Your body’s grip on him is unlike anything he’s ever felt, and he knos he made the right choice in bringing you home with him.

It’s hard, but Johnny manages to control himself and keep from fucking you too roughly. His thrusts are long and slow if a little extra harsh, and he stares down at your scrunched up little face and imagines all the filthy ways he’ll have you in the coming weeks.

You shift on your knees when he hits a particularly nice spot, little whines pouring from your throat on exhales. His thrusts nearly punch the air from your body, and he finds himself breathing in sync with you as he loses himself more and more to the pleasure.

He slips a hand from your waist to your clit as he gets closer. It would be awfully selfish of him to leave you needy after getting himself off, and he’s not about to deny himself the tight clench of your body as he brings you to climax.

It takes a little bit of trial and error to figure out what feels good for you - he can’t quite discern the difference between a nose scrunch of frustration and one of pleasure - but the steady pumps of his hips and the constant motions against your clit quickly bring you to the edge.

Your cunt tightens deliciously around him as you finally come, but the true beauty is in the way you go absolutely boneless beneath him. He has to firm up his grip on your waist just to keep you from sinking flat on the bed, huffing a laugh as he thrusts just a bit faster, just enough to get himself there too.

He lets his head fall beside yours as the two of you ride out your climaxes together, staring wide-eyed at the way your face relaxes into the pleasure. He leans forward enough to mesh your lips together, messily forcing your mouth open and licking at your tongue.

It’s not the best kiss - he has to do all the work, and he ends up soaking both of your chins in spit - but he relishes in it anyway. Your first kiss together is something he knows he’ll want to remember for years to come.

He hardly notices as he slips from your body, tingles shooting through every nerve leaving him mostly unaware of his body’s functions. He hardly has the energy to make sure he doesn’t crush you beneath him, instead laying beside you and tucking you into his chest.

“Thank you, bonnie,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “That was fantastic. Can’t wait to do it again, maybe you’ll do a bit more next time, yeah?” He laughs a little at his own joke, snuggling you close to him and letting his eyes shut slowly.

———————————————————————

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you wake up next, but you can tell immediately that something isn’t right.

First of all, you’re half naked. And you can tell you’re half naked because your legs are being cradled by someone else’s naked legs. And you know for a fact that you didn’t bring anyone home with you.

Except… it occurs to you slowly as you finally blink stinging eyes open, except you did. Dr. MacTavish brought you home.

And you let him into your apartment. You just handed your keys over to a man you hardly knew, let him guide you right to bed without any sort of fight.

Your head pounds with a vengeance, right behind your already hurting eyes.

You let him give you pills, too. You remember that, though it’s the last thing you remember. He asked where your pain meds were and you didn’t even bother to check that he’d given you what you expected. You just swallowed them with water, like this was a man you could trust.

The slight soreness between your thighs tells you that you couldn’t.

The tears that begin to gather in your eyes hurt, which makes you want to cry even more. You can’t hold back a sniffle, then a hiccup, then what sounds more like sobs than anything else.

You bring your hands up to cover your mouth, briefly recoil and the weight over your torso.

You can’t bring yourself to look, but you know who’s in bed with you.

Johnny wakes up just minutes later, shifting and making a soft sound of confusion. It must not take him long to put the pieces together because it only takes him a few seconds to start cooing, his rough palm cupping your face over your own hands.

“Lass?” He hums, and from your peripheral you see his brows furrow. It’s only a slight comfort that you even can see. “What’s wrong?”

That almost gets a laugh out of you. You nearly choke on the sound, spit catching in your throat. “What’s- what’s wrong?”

He sighs, like he already knows. Of course he knows. He has to know.

“Don’t be upset.” He leans a little closer, and to your horror you feel him press his lips against your forehead. “You can be awake next time, yeah? Then you won’t feel so left out.”

“Left out,” you echo, a strain of horror making its way into your voice.

“But only if you can be good,” he clarifies. “No fighting me now. Just keep being good for me and you can stay awake, alright?”

“Good…” You feel like a robot, but the combination of your headache and the absurdity of your situation leaves you unable to process what’s happening.

It processes much faster when you feel one of his hands slide up the shirt you’re - by some miracle - still wearing. It’s instinctual to jerk up the bed and away when he goes straight for one of your breasts.

“Get- get off me!” Your voice is nearly a shriek, the pitch sending a shock of pain up your skull.

You don’t make it very far in your tiny escape attempt, Johnny quickly hefting himself above you and pinning you down with his weight.

“Now, lass,” he scolds, face set in a frown that you can’t tell is sarcastic or serious. “What did I just say?”

You can’t make yourself speak, fingers trembling beside your head as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“C’mon,” he goads, dropping his weight a little lower. “Just gotta do one thing for me to stay awake, tell me what it was.”

“I’m not-” you gasp a big breath, blinking up at the man above you. “I’m not fucking calming down! Get off of me, you freak, how dare you-”

“Alright!” He nearly shouts, drowning you out. “That’s enough of that. Back to sleep with you, I think. We’ll see if you can handle participating next time.”

He’s leaned to the side before you can really register what he’s said, scooping two little white pills into his palm and coming back over you.

“Open wide,” he taunts, lips curled into a small smirk as he holds his closed fist above your mouth.

Every instinct in you says to scream and shout, to fight back. But he’s got you pinned with your arms stuck between the two of you, unable to lift your hands and cover your mouth, so you clamp your lips as tightly shut as you can to keep him out.

Johnny only sighs, like you’re making his drugging terribly inconvenient. You squeeze your eyes shut to block out his face, praying that you’ll open them and this will all just be a terrible nightmare.

“Really, lass?” He complains, his free hand reaching up to pinch your nose. Without anything to hold him up, you’re nearly crushed beneath his body weight. “Very mature. I can pinch far longer than you can hold your breath, y’know. You’re making this difficult for no good reason.”

Your eyes fly open at that, glaring up at him with what you hope is a scathing look.

He only laughs.

“Very cute,” he hums, rubbing his nose against your cheek. Your chest burns from the lack of air. “I think you’ll be just perfect to keep around the house. You’ll brighten this place in all the right ways, won’t you?”

Your eyes well with tears as black stars begin to dance across your vision. Completely against your own will, your lips part and you suck in a deep breath.

Johnny doesn’t waste any time - you nearly choke on the pills as they fly down your throat with the air you desperately inhale. You nearly choke, hacking with tears streaming from your eyes, but Johnny just holds a hand over your mouth and brings you both up enough to harshly pat your back.

“There you go, you’re ok,” he mumbles in your ear, rubbing the place he’d slapped as your chest heaves with desperate breaths. The pills leave an uncomfortable lump in your throat, and you reach up to rub at it as if that will make it any better.

He stays like that, holding you close, for several long heartbeats.

“Good girl,” he hums, lips pressing to your temple and the sound rumbling through the contact. “I hope you won’t make me do that next time, I’d much rather you be awake for this next part.”

He lays you back slowly, and you distantly wonder what on Earth he’s given you to knock you out so quickly. Already your eyes feel heavier and you’ve hardly swallowed. You try to keep your eyes open as long as possible, which leaves you staring up at Johnny as he hovers above you.

“It’s not the worst thing, though,” he whispers, hand cupping your cheek and thumb passing your undereye. “I don’t mind having you like this, soft and sweet for me.”

Your eyes finally flutter shut just as you feel your legs being nudged apart.

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kazbrekkerscrutches · 1 year

Text

Xavier Thorpe - Hurt

Warnings: Mention of gore, b!ood, and violence. Wednesday hurting reader. PTSD. Xavier being the best bf and doctor on Earth.

Words: 1.5 k

SHE/HER PRONOUNS

Context/Trope: Reader is Xavier’s girlfriend, Wednesday is torturing her in the Nightshade library, he finds her and helps her

“Why are you doing this to me, Wednesday?” I almost screamed. Blood was coming out of every orifice in my body.

She had punched me in the head with a hammer, dragged me into the Nightshade library; where Xavier used to bring me, and tied me up to a chair.

“This isn’t personal, dear Y/N. I know what you are and you need to tell me who is your master.” She whispered so tonally and coldly.

“I have no idea what you are talking about!” I screamed now, she had brought out two tasers from her jacket, and tortured me over and over again.

“The Nightshades will make you pay, Wednesday. You can’t do whatever you wish in here!” I yelled now, the pain surrounding my body and my mind.

I heard two snaps, indicating that a fellow Nightshade member would soon be coming in. A small yet reassuring smile appeared on my face, bringing me some type of comfort.

I saw Wednesday panic as she approached me. “You say a word and I will carve your eyes out.” She threatened.

I saw her go up the stairs to block whoever was trying to come in.

I heard a quiet yet stern voice of a boy talking to her.

Xavier.

They were mumbling and he rose his voice, trying to get pass her.

“Help! Xavier!” I yelled, Wednesday saw me. That’s when I saw him. He was faster to come down then her as he took my face in his hands.

“What have you done to her, you psychopath!” He yelled. He untied me from my chair and pulled me into his arms.

Wednesday froze. She didn’t know that Xavier and I were together. At this point, I was full on sobbing into his chest, but he kept his embrace just as tight around me.

“Wednesday, you should go.” She just stood there, watching us, watching me. I was completely and utterly afraid of her. She terrified me and Xavier knew that. He could feel the way my whole body shook, the heavy tears wetting his shirt, my needy embrace around his chest.

He didn’t let go.

We both watched her walk up the stairs with all her torturing tools. I felt safe when I heard the statue shut the door.

Tears flooded out of my eyes once more. Sobs racked through my body as if a drill was going through my heart. No words came out of my mouth. No words came out of his. He simply held me. He checked my body for any major injuries which was mostly my head.

“I’m gonna bring you to my room, okay? You’ll be safe there.” He softly kissed my forehead, trying not to hurt me.

“I’m not sure I can walk, Xav.” I whispered, which was the only voice left in my body after all that screaming.

“That’s okay, princess. Hang on tight, we’ll be there in a minute.” He loosened his grip on my upper body only to pass one of my arms over his shoulder, taking my legs on his arms and carrying me out of that place.

“My head hurts.” I whispered as I passed out in his embrace.

[Xavier’s POV]

She passed out in my arms.

I looked at her for a minute, making sure she was still breathing. I know I should be taking her to the infirmary but it was too dangerous. Wednesday could do something again and I cannot risk that. Not for me, and especially not for Y/N.

I would never forgive myself if she got hurt because of me.

I carried her all the way back to my room, opening the door carefully; making sure nothing hit her by accident, and shut the door behind us.

I carefully placed her on my bed, placing her in one of her favorite zip-ups which was mine. She said it reminded her of me; of how comforting I smelled and I felt when I was around. That’s one of the most adorable thing she has said to me.

When I got scratched by my painting, I had gone into town to go buy some first aid stuff to heal my scars; hopefully that would be enough to help her.

I took the kit out of my drawer, taking out things I thought I may need.

Her head twitched slightly when I lifted my hand to clean up the cut on her eyebrow. She woke up, almost jumping off from the bed, but I cached her in time.

“Hey, hey it’s okay Y/N. It’s just me. Xavier. I’m not going to hurt you.” I felt her calm down by my touch, she leaned into my shoulder, breathing me in softly.

I guided her to lie down again, calming her down.

“Thank you, Xav. Thank you for saving me.” A few tears shed from the corner of her eyes. I wiped them away with my thumb.

“You don’t have to thank me, I’m your boyfriend. I’m always going to be here for you, no matter what.” I smiled softly as she watched me closely with her beautiful eyes.

I showed her the cleaning supplies, she shook her head softly, telling me it was okay for me to take care of her.

[Y/N’s POV]

Xavier was always soft with me. He would be the kind of guy to always act like a gentleman even if he had a bad day. He always made me his top priority.

I sharply exhaled when he passed the cotton pads around my head. That bitch did not miss, I thought.

I probably did have a concussion but Xavier has had plenty; he told me he’d take good care of me.

He put all the stuff away, telling me he was done cleaning me up. I had noticed that he had put one of my favorite zip-ups on me; one of his. I smiled slightly as the sight of that. Genuinely kind and cute move. God, I love this boy.

“All done, do you want one of my pants to be more comfortable in? You can sleep here.” He put the kit away; that he probably used for his scars on his neck. I nodded. He smiled slightly and handed one of his pair meanwhile he was helping me sit up.

My head did hurt; not a question, but it hurt way more than it did before.

“It’s the adrenaline. Same thing happened to me when I broke my nose. I received the soccer ball with my face and let me tell you that I laughed, and the teacher made me move my nose. It was ridiculous. Next thing I was aware was an X-Ray of my broken nose and a concussion for a while. Not fun, my mom had to wake me up every three hours only to check if I hadn’t died.” He confessed.

I laughed a little at the story, and it made me feel better.

He placed a soft kiss on the top of my head and helped me out of my bloodied clothes, having me lean on him for support.

“You need rest, love. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” He whispered, kissed me softly and sat down at his desk besides the bed.

He took his sketch book in his lap and scrambled endlessly at one of his masterpiece. I watched him softly for a couple of minutes.

“Xavier?” I asked quietly.

“Yes, princess?” He looked up from his book.

“Can you stay with me?” I knew he was right in front of me but I don’t think I would’ve been able to sleep without him.

He nodded, lifted up that blankets he had placed on my fragile body and wrapped me up in his embrace. My face was hitting the hard muscle of his chest, filling me up with a calm and quiet energy of the prodigy.

“Am I hurting you?” He whispered slowly, not wanting to startle me.

“No, you’re not. I’m okay.” I responded back, holding him tighter against me.

“Are you okay?” He placed again. He rearranged his head against mine, holding one of his hands to brush his hand in my hair.

“She may have tortured me, for her stupid accusation but I am okay. She hit me a couple of times, tazed me a couple of times but that was never enough to make me break. I had nothing to hide. I know it sounds terrible, but I will heal. I have you. I will always be more than okay if I have you by my side.” I rambled in his chest.

He placed a soft and loving kiss on the top of my head.

“I will care for you everyday. I always will and I swear on it. Get some rest, now. I’m not letting you out of my sight, princess.” He whispered lovingly.

“Creep.” I called out softly.

“I love you, too.”

#xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday 2022

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semi-imaginary-place · 2 months

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"This manga is heavily a Buddhist story, which is mostly the reason for the morals, choices, and consequences of the story falling flat for many westerners. It'd be too difficult to go into everything in one comment, but the most important thing is Ichikawa's criticism of Pure Land Buddhism.

In this branch of Buddhism, people can basically pray to get into the Pure Land, rather than having to do the work themselves. Gemstones also can't get into the pure land and thus are exempt from samsara, the karmic cycle, which was the main inspiration for the series and something Ichikawa sought to change in the story.

The story depicts Ichikawa's rejection of Pure Land Buddhism through Adamant's burden of existing solely as a tool to pray humanity away and his eventual breaking free of this role to be able to live with the gems full time during the 10,000 years. It also sort of paints the lunarians as lesser for convincing themselves that they need someone to pray them away when they didn't. But the biggest example is regarding which character actually got the better ending, because the way I see it, and the way Ichikawa seems to see it, everyone other than Phos got fucked in the end.

Over the course of the story, Aechmea paints nothingness as a serene realm of nonexistence that is free from the suffering of the living world, but by the end, it seems clear that nothingness is just another state of existence and everyone there is still a part of the eternal cycle of everything being remade into everything else. Taking this into account, why would you want nothingness when you can make peace with existence like Phos ended up doing? Despite everything he went through, it's only because he actually put the work that he was given the opportunity to find his purpose, reflect on his life and actions, and be happy with the pebbles. Things didn't go how he planned, but he did end up getting everything he wanted.

A lot of people will say that the message of the manga is that existence is suffering, but I think the ending makes a good point that it is equal parts suffering and happiness. Likewise, the manga does a good job painting humanity as a force of destruction, ignorance, and shortsightedness, but the ending shows that there is still pureness and wisdom in it.

Probably the biggest takeaway should be that good and evil and other black and white ways of looking at things are rarely any use in a world as nuanced as ours. And that seeing the world this way will only lead to confusion when those you see as good are getting punished and those you see as evil are getting rewarded, when in reality, the universe could not care less what you are. Everyone is just the result of their own actions and the influences of the world around them and we're all going to die and go back to being stardust eventually anyway."

"The lunarians were all able to pass on their own, but their insistence on someone else doing the work for them was an attachment that kept them from that. Shiro and the game board fulfilled their desire to see Adamant again and were able to go to nothingness without him praying for them."

"They got what they wanted, but what they wanted doesn't seem to be what they thought it was. Rather than a state of absolute non-feeling, it sounds like they're just getting put back into the karmic soup of the universe a bit sooner than Phos, Brother, the pebbles, and everything else eventually will. Except the lunarians and gems weren't wise enough to come to terms with that inevitability.

Most of this take comes from Brother's conversation with Phos in chapter 103 regarding living in the present and not worrying about the future that's beyond your control. But even ignoring this part of it, I still think the series makes a good case for existence, even including the worst of it, being a better deal than absolutely nothing.

This is not to say that Phos didn't experience far worse than anyone else in the story, only that the kind of growth he went through requires a degree of hardship. Phos post-prayer seems to agree that everything he went through, despite how unfair or traumatizing it was, was necessary and worth it for him to have the clarity and happiness that he has now.

A part of Buddhism is realizing that you can't change most things and accepting things the way they are. Basically, things don't always go the way you planned and finding value in the way they did rather than dwelling on things out of your hands is a form of personal growth that one should strive for.

Phos made peace with what he was dealt and used those experiences to make himself and those around him better off, spending eons of happiness with the pebbles. The lunarians rejected this way of thinking and endlessly sought to change their fate, wasting the existence they were given before inevitably getting thrown right back into a new one. They squandered their chance at what Phos attained and will have to start from scratch in their next form. When everything you have ends eventually, it's the present that really matters, not the outcome."

(CrashDunning)

#hnk #land of the lustrous #houseki no kuni #lotl

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strangemagicc · 11 days

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Nobody Has To Know | Bonus Scene - Chapter Three

masterlist

summary: Eddie’s busy mind kept him from remembering a few important details. Like his date.

author’s note: surprise! I felt like I needed to paint a better picture of Eddie’s predicament and so I present to you: the bonus scene - Eddie’s freakout. I hope you enjoy it 🖤

w/c: 1k

warnings: none

Eddie hadn’t been able to get you off his mind since he’d dropped you off, thoughts wandering to the way you looked pressed against the shower wall.

The way you felt wrapped around his fingers.

Your words played on repeat as he worked on his Uncle’s car.

Next time

God, he couldn’t get his mind off next time.

And his upbeat attitude wasn’t lost on Wayne, curious eyebrows raised in his nephew’s direction as Eddie whistled to a love song on the radio.

One he didn’t realize Eddie even knew.

“Who’s got you humming to The Spinners?” Wayne’s voice cut through Eddie’s thoughts.

“Who?” Eddie questioned, face twisted in confusion and Wayne smirked, pointing the tool he held to the radio that sat atop the old wooden porch.

“The Spinners,” he repeated.

“Oh,” Eddie chuckled nervously, “‘s just a good song.”

“Uh-huh,” Wayne nodded but didn’t buy it, Eddie had never been one to like the oldies except for the few songs his mom had shown him when she was alive. This song not being one of them.

They continued to work in shared silence, hands covered in oil and dirt by the time they were finished.

Eddie twisted one last bolt, pushed off the car, and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands.

“That should do it if you want to give it a try,” he tilted his chin towards the driver’s seat and Wayne climbed into the cab of his truck twisting the key in the ignition until it roared to life.

“Finally,” the older man groaned before switching it off. The sound of an approaching vehicle caught his attention and he turned back to Eddie.

“Expecting a visitor?”

“What?” Eddie turned to where Wayne’s gaze was focused, his eyes widening when he noticed who was in the driver’s seat.

Cassandra.

The girl he met online a month ago.

The girl he forgot he had a date with.

“Shit,” he muttered, his worry not lost on Wayne.

“Take it that’s not the girl you were thinking of while humming love songs?” Wayne teased and Eddie threw his rag at him but didn’t deny the allegation.

“I’ll be inside,” Wayne slapped his nephew’s shoulder with a deep laugh and walked up the stairs before disappearing into the trailer they shared.

Cassandra hopped out of the driver’s seat, blue dress billowing in the wind. She practically skipped until she closed the distance, smiling widely at Eddie and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date,” she pouted and it was nowhere near as cute as yours.

Eddie’s body felt like it’d been set on fire, cheeks painted a bright shade of pink as the nerves crept in.

“N-no, of course not.”

And it was too late to tell her he couldn’t go, mind void of a believable excuse.

All he could think about was you. How he would tell you or what you’d say. If you’d even believe that this wasn’t intentional.

Would you even care?

And that thought was worse than you being mad at him.

“I was just working on my Uncle’s car,” he tilted his head behind him, hands still at his sides.

She leaned in to kiss him and he turned his head just in time. Not wanting to erase the way your lips felt against his, not with the touch of hers.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up and we can go, just need to pick up Rick’s sister on the way.”

She pulled away and nodded.

“I didn’t know Rick had a sister,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

Cassandra lived one town over and wasn’t familiar with Rick or any of Eddie’s friends. Only knowing about them from the little he’d told her before tonight.

“Yeah, younger,” Eddie shrugged, not wanting to talk about you with her, and walked alongside her to the front door. Stepping aside to let her through first.

“If you wanna get comfortable, I’m just gonna get washed up,” he repeated, trying to hide his nervous energy.

Wanting to hurry up and text you.

Cassandra plopped onto the old couch he pointed at, taking out her phone to scroll on socials as he sped to his bathroom.

He turned on the shower and reached for his phone, mind all over the place.

“Don’t freak out,” he began. Even though he was the one losing his shit.

His fingers moved rapidly over the screen sending more messages than he had ever sent to you.

Eddie watched his phone, waiting for you to read them. The seconds dragged on like hours, and his messages were still only marked as delivered.

“Oh come on,” he groaned but still there was no response.

Shit, fuck, shit.

And he couldn’t keep Cassandra waiting. Or you standing outside of work to be picked up.

Eddie hopped into the shower and scrubbed himself in a hurry, this shower not nearly as enjoyable as the one from this morning.

He looked at his phone as he wiped the condensation from the mirror, but still no response.

He sent one final message before getting dressed and meeting Cassandra back in the living room.

All he could hope was that you’d read it.

“You ready?” He tilted his head towards the front door and she hopped up eagerly.

And Eddie knew he would need to think of a way to break things off before the end of the night.

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 9 days

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Puppeteer’s Marionette

Based on a dream I had of a hunter!Matthias lol it just an idea i wanted to write idk

Rated Mature | Warnings: Matty kinda mean (affectionate), reader is from modern times

Wires, rods, hooks, puppets. Performance gloves, replacement parts, and tools to paint the puppet.

Matthias has shown you plenty of times how he works to create a puppet, often he is surprised you can sit there for hours watching him— Then again, anything dealing with him, you tend to hyperfocus on. Weirdo, he would say but never mean it… Gentle sweet you who falls asleep a few hours into watching him work, sharing the same space as him is often enough for you.

Thinking of him while looking at the poster on the wall of this theater, The Puppet With No Strings: Louis!

Or you think that is what it says… You cannot read French.

The theater map is big like Golden Cave, with three levels, and two exits and no one has seen the dungeon. You currently are in the front where the exit is after getting lost. The closest cipher is upstairs but the hunter is up there with Mind’s Eye.

… She is the last survivor with you… Only two ciphers were completed but again no clue where the dungeon is.

The hunter has been flawless in taking out the survivors, trapping them before downing each one. Magician and Acrobat both got caught only two out of five ciphers in.

Witness the Fantastical Louis, this poster is in English.

You stand there reading the walls covered with posters, a hand touching the paper with Louis’ face… The smile is designed to look friendly and entertaining.

“Yup, still scary.” Shaking your head as you finish sightseeing to go find the dungeon upstairs after Mind’s Eye used the walkie-talkie to ping the hunter is nearby downstairs in the theater section. If she gets chaired, that is it. Upstairs the theater balcony and equipment rooms.

More posters of Louis but there are other posters of Louis.

No dungeon so far.

When you go to the balcony, you see the hunter on the stage— Finally, you see it fully rather than an outline.

Arms not fully attached to the body, transparent, fingers moving the way you have seen Matthias move his went doing puppetry, wooden designed. The hunter is tall, as to be expected for most except Robbie, they are wearing those showmen-type outfits though parts of them look burned… The most unsettling part is the parts that look like puppet attachments connected to key parts of the body… They specifically left the side of the body…

You are no Orpheus but in this case, the writing's on the wall who you are up against.

There are few in the manor with hunter counterparts, all of them a twisted funhouse mirror of them, a reminder of possibilities and the follies, yet Hastur once told you it can also be a way to face one's demons (he used a human term for you to understand).

You doubt the Baron cares about helping anyone process their trauma via being chased down by it…

“Helena watch out!” Shouting from above as one of the wooden ghostly hands moves and throws what seems to be glowing green wires. She barely avoids them but now the creature turns its gaze to you.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Running away when it starts moving, switching targets.

It will take a minute for the hunter to get up here unless it has teleport… Which it fucking does as the second you leave the balcony, the monster is there at a cipher on that same floor.

There it stands gazing down at you… Quiet. You can clearly see the parts that are human and the parts that are puppet. It is as if Matthias is using Louis to cover his scars or flaws.

“(Name).” The silence is broken by his voice that sounds off… Two-toned like Nightmare's voice. He steps forward and you step back. “You should run.” You see in his puppet hand is a pair of scissors.

“Matthias…” Standing there, “You look like a mini-boss from Bloodborne.”

Silence. Silence. Eyes narrow.

“I am trying to kill you and you're making jokes!?” Yelling at you, “Now is not the time to be joking!” Running at you thus making you run away.

You are the better kiter between Mind's Eye and yourself, you hope at least you can pull a three cipher kite as there are only three left. You ping Focus on decoding and are given a response of a cipher percentage ping.

Though you cracked a joke, one you know he does not understand, when you looked upon Puppeteer’s counterpart; you wonder if this is everything he despises in this creature, part puppet, part man, all wrong.

Two ciphers left. You need to shift the chase to downstairs where there is more room.

She went into the basement as two ciphers were down there and you survived jumping down from the balcony to the lower half of the theater audience section.

The Puppeteer threw something though before you landed and you feel and see wires tighten around your arms and legs.

Shit. You try moving but something is stopping you keeping you in place. The only thing you can move is your head which you turn to look around to see where the hunter went. He vaulted and his movement was slow enough that whatever he did to you lasted only a few seconds.

In this game, every second counts. Despite the delay, he still was able to strike you causing you now to kite wounded.

One cipher left. The percentage is five. Well if you go down it won't be too bad, you tried given the circumstances.

Your heart is racing, you swallow down your fear, you have to keep going! The backstage gives you better opportunities to try to palette stun or block. The only problem is Puppeteer can put wires to hinder you and do that weird trick.

Tight spaces, lots of things to throw at him— Which you did— And two ways out if you can make it.

The percentage is twenty-six, damn being wounded is slowing down the speed!

You need to buy time… Well… At least this is with Matthias.

He is behind you when he corners you, there you stand looking at him, wires closing off any way out without you getting caught. Both staring at one another.

“What is the plan now?”

“Not sure,” Shrugging, “Thought we could stand here staring at each other longingly.”

An eye roll, “No.”

“I could kiss you.”

“(Name)—”

“You should know I like kissing you a lot.” Point that out to him, “Come here!” Winking as you move forward only to realize you cannot move… “Oh, come on, Matty.” He hates that nickname. You see the thin strings wrapped around your arms and feel it squeeze around your neck, nothing painful just frim.

“You should learn to pay attention to the hands, not my face.”

That is true… The last cipher is at sixty percent… He can chair or bleed you out to go after the other survivor to get a complete win. Dropping your head in defeat.

His puppet hands’ fingers dance for a second making you lift your arms above your head, slightly bending them so it will not be too uncomfortable.

“You should have run for the dungeon,” Scolding you, “Running me around was stupid of you,” He leaned down, his gloved hand grabbing your chin and tilting your head up, “For once you had to be selfish,” Annoyed, “…You are always running towards me even when it could hurt you.” Sad as he examines your face, “(Name).” Saying your name mournfully.

Hastur says counterparts are far more in touch with the emotions of those they are the counter of, most are negative. Fool’s Gold's lack of morals, Nightmare's isolationism, Smiley’s obsessiveness, and Evil Reptilian's lack of restraint.

This counterpart seems… Sad? Still scary but with you he just seems sad.

“Matthias.” You try to move your arms wishing to comfort him but hiss in pain when the strings cut into your arms for trying to move against his wishes.

“Don't.” Turning your face to the left and right, “For once don’t try to chase me.”

You frown as he lets go of your face, again you try moving even as it hurts as you try breaking free. He releases you and for a moment you think you can reach out but then— Your body goes stiff, arms at your side as you stand up straight with no control of your limbs.

“Stop trying to reach for something not here.” Rolling his eyes as the extra pair of hands are the ones controlling the strings connected to you, “...” Raising an eyebrow at the way you are not looking at him while your lips are pressed together. “Seriously!?” Snapping at you.

“Sorry.” The loss of anatomical control and his stern tone with you is kinda hot.

“Tsk,” Clicking his tongue, “Do you do this with other hunters?” You shake your head at the question, “Would explain why it takes so long for you to return to the manor.”

You are shaking a bit not in anger but because you like it when he is a bit mean to you.

“How wet are you if I check?” Click of shifting wood makes your body stand with open legs, “(Name).” Accusing.

“This isn't fair.”

“I know.”

#idv #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv puppeteer #reader insert #matthias czernin #puppeteer x you #puppeteer x reader #matthias czernin x reader #matthias czernin x you #idv x you

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shuacore · 4 months

Text

[ 00:53 ] skating in central park — bill evans

“holy balls it’s cold as fuck.”

leave it to jun to keep it romantic. you hold back a snort of laughter, knowing it would only egg your boyfriend on more. he has his hand shoved into his pockets, breath coming out in steamy puffs of air. it’s biting this evening, but jun looks like a drama lead—so cute, all bundled with the tip of his nose red in his long trench coat and white puffy earmuffs—that you don’t even mind.

you sigh knowingly, twisting around to look at him with a smile. “come on! the christmas market is so cute.”

“why can’t we just get drinks inside?” he whines, and you flit over, pressing a quick kiss to his cold cheek. this silences him for a moment as he regards you with wide eyes, smiling with adoration. your stomach flip flops around. ah, it never gets old.

“let’s just do a quick loop and then i promise we can go and get drinks. at a bar. inside,” you say in earnest, and this seems to persuade jun. you loop your arm through his, tucking yourself neatly into his side. he’s warm, even under all the layers, and you smell the familiar aroma of amber and cinnamon wafting from his skin.

he groans,”fine,” without any heat, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. your grin takes over your whole face as you tug him deeper into the throng of people. there are booths lining the walkway packed with sparkling decorations, large painted ornaments and tempting aromas of herbs and spices. your mouth waters as you pass by a booth selling pierogis, and you tug jun behind you as you move closer, pressing a finger against the glass.

“ooh, let’s get some,” you say, and your excitement is enough to convince jun to hand over eight dollars to the stand, smiling fondly as you feed him bites from your fork. they’re warm and buttery and a perfect snack to combat the bitter chill of the winter air, and with full bellies you continue tooling around the market. you peruse spice stands, cooking stands, art stands, hand knit hats, scarves, and mittens, hand-painted ornaments, and a million other handcrafted things, all the while jun follows faithfully behind. his eyes glint merrily in the Christmas lights swinging in the night air.

the pathway opens up into a lively center square, and you gasp excitedly, reaching out to grasp jun’s gloved hand tightly in your own.

“look! ice skating!” you say with vigor, skipping over to the barrier and watching the skaters with wide eyes. you turn back to your boyfriend, blushing to see him watching you again with poorly disguised amusement. “we should do it!”

jun’s eyebrows disappear underneath his fringe. “oh…i don’t know…”

you seemed to be spending most of your time convincing your partner to have a good time with you.

“come onnnn! i’ll pay this time,” you plead, tugging on his elbow like a needy child. normally you’d take no for an answer, but it’s christmas for god’s sake, and you want to go ice skating with your boyfriend. not surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for him to relent—a few ‘please, please, please’s and an extra whispered promise in his ear for some winter activities you could do once you got home—before he’s pulling you by the hand to the booth and smacking a bill on the counter.

“two pairs of skates! sizes 7 and 11, please.” your smile is blinding as you place a giddy peck to the cheek, and there he goes blushing again, like this is your first date and not your 200th. you like seeing jun all flustered around you; even after four years it still makes your stomach flip.

the worker hands jun his change and two pairs of skates—one of which he hands off to you—and you find a place to put them on. then the two of you are standing at the edge of the rink, hand in hand. you’ve only ever really gone skating on the ponds near your house, and even then it’s only been the two of you or family members during the holidays. and suddenly you’re a little nervous. experienced skaters and hockey players zip by at blinding speeds, and you inhale a sharp breath as the speed of a skater passing by ruffles your scarf.

sensing your hesitation, jun gives your hand a soft squeeze and pulls you onto the rink. you grip the wall, white-knuckled, as jun leads you around the edge. it’s slow-going at first, as you get your bearings on the ice, but jun seems to pick up the movements naturally. he’s always been more adept at picking up new skill and ice skating seems to be no exception.

“wait, how are you so good at this?” you ask, breathless, as jun skates gracefully backwards, all the while still holding your hand in his. your trepidation is replaced by incredulity as jun releases your hand and swiftly flips around and glides off in easy loops.

“what the hell?!” you curse loudly, earning you a few grumpy glares from parents of young kids, but you’re too preoccupied watching your ice-skating-prodigy boyfriend to notice. the wind whips through his dark hair, pushing it off his forehead as he passes by you, close enough to feel his fingers graze your arm. “when did you learn to do this?!”

your knees are still unsteady on the ice, and you keep your fingers wrapped around the wall as you hobble around, trying to catch up with your boyfriend.

“wait!” you call out in slight desperation as he skates past you one more time, weaving in and out of couples and kids making their own rounds. you frown, still sedentary, as jun finally skates back to you, skidding to a stop so you feel a light shower of ice sprinkle your face.

“hey—ouch!” jun whines, rubbing his shoulder where you just punched him. “what?!”

“since when have you been good at skating?!” you ask in disbelief. he shrugs, exclaiming aloud when he dodges another swing.

“stop!” jun protests, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and then he knits his fingers in your tightly. “just… like this, come on.” he pulls you gently away from the wall amid objections, showing you how to swish your feet in a graceful back-and-forth pattern. you start to gain a little speed. the wall seems miles away now, other skaters are dipping and weaving around you, and you turn back to jun with your arms held aloft, his name already formed on your lips in jubilation—

WHAM!

this time you do curse loud enough for enough people to hear. jun laughs raucously over the sound of other skaters as you lay flat on your back on the ice, your elbows, hips and pride aching. his face appears over yours, hair hanging down, face glowing with mirth. he offers you a hand, and pulls you up slowly as you wince. talk about old bones—you were going to be feeling that for a week. you hold your butt, massaging the muscle as it aches.

“fuck,” you groan, lightly punching jun again as he laughs. it soothes your dignity just a bit to see him so happy, throwing his whole head back as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

“here, i’ll help you,” jun promises, holding his arm out to you. this time it goes a little smoother as jun guides you around the rink. you almost make a full second rotation before you stumble again, this time taking your boyfriend down with you in a spectacular display of limbs and more curse words. the two of you laugh, amid a tangle of arms and legs, breathless. the air doesn’t seem so biting anymore. even on the ice, feeling the bruises blossoming on your shins and butt, watching your boyfriend heave himself to his feet, brush off the snow from his long winter trench coat like some kind of rom-com lead has your heart fluttering in your chest. he pulls you to your feet again, and sputters in surprise when you lurch forward to press a kiss to his lips.

it fills your chest with warmth, and you laugh short-winded against his mouth as jun’s hands rest on the back of your neck. he’s a bit too eager, biting your lip slightly as you pull away before he’s finished. (you are still in public after all.)

“what was that for?” he asks, nose and cheeks red from the cold. you lift your hand to his face, tracing the line of his cheekbone lightly with your thumb.

“mm, nothing. i just love you,” you say, quietly, unable to stop the smiles from filling your face.

jun leans in again, lips centimeters form yours when someone yells, “get a room!” and you freeze. jun laughs loudly again, throwing his head back like he always does. you hid your face against his chest as you giggle in embarrassment. his arms are warm around your body.

“do you wanna take a break?” he asks when you resurface.

you falter. “but we just got them,” you say, feeling a bit guilty.

“hey, we have them for a whole hour,” he assures you, and presses a kiss to your temple.

despite your protests, the activities on land are much more your speed. after finding a secluded little bench, jun disappears for a moment, only to return with two steaming mugs of hot apple cider. it’s sweet and a little spicy but it sends a welcome wave of warmth through your body, letting the steam defrost your noses and cheeks from the winter air. jun wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side as you watch the skaters together.

and you just sit in quiet for a while, every so often commenting on the booths or other market-goers. unbeknownst to you, jun watches you fondly, taking in your slouched posture, your bright eyes as you drink in the christmas festivities. that alone is enough to make his chest want to burst. he tucks you just a bit tighter in to his side, lifting a hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of your gloved knuckles.

his presence is just as warm as the cider cupped in your hands.

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a/n: just a fun little wintery jun-fic that's been on my mind. i was also thinking of posting it to skating by vince guaraldi (also a good one if u want the ambiance!!!!) but i liked the mellow tones of bill evans too :3

xx thanks for reading LOVE U!!!

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt fluff #svt x reader #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun #svt jun #jun x reader #jun imagines #jun drabbles #jun fluff #wen junhui x reader

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alltheirdamn · 3 months

Text

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 8

Summary: The truth fucking hurts. Warnings: heavy mentions of past sexual assault, unprotected piv sex, mando talks you through it, soft!mando, a smattering of angst Word Count: 6k A/N: This is a heavier chapter, so pls be advised with the warnings. Also, if you care, Gibson Girl by Ethel Cain is angel girls song ://

After hours of restless sleep, you found yourself in front of the carbonite chamber, cursing at the freezer valve as it hung loose on the pipe. Putting in a new valve shouldn’t be this hard, but it proved to be the opposite. No matter how many times you had twisted it with the wrench, it still wouldn’t budge, the pipe stripping away with each twist. Fuck, you were beyond agitated. Usually little tasks like this wouldn’t get you so worked up, but having no solution was starting to seriously ruin your mood.

And after last night, Mando had decided to hole away in the cockpit to work on the nav panel again.

He hadn’t brought up the incident in the cockpit; instead, he left it behind and focused on the present. You were grateful for it. Spending the long hours of the night wrapped up in his scent and warmth was enough of an escape from those memories that continued to poison your mind. He was patient enough to wait for you to talk to him, but you weren’t sure what to say.

I was a slave.

I was raped.

My body doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

How could you form and speak those words out loud without completely crumbling? Acknowledging the past meant it was real, and you spent years hoping it was all just a nightmare you’d wake up from. The more distractions you had, the easier it was to try and forget. Kesi had ruined every good part of yourself, and for Mando to say you were an angel was beyond comprehension. If only he knew of the things you had endured. You were a broken mess with sharp edges. Anger was the only emotion keeping you together; it fueled the pain inside of you, feeding into it like a stray animal scouring for food. That pain hungered for rage, hungered for a taste of defiance.

Anger was better than vulnerability.

But it was unfair to Mando for what you were doing. He had given you parts of himself that he’d held so close, yet you couldn’t even do the same. You were a hypocrite and so undeserving. The thought of running had floated through your mind during the night, even as he held you to his body. Leaving him behind would kill you, but would it be for the best? He’d be safer without you around, and you’d be void of all chances of attachment. Growing close meant caring about something—about someone—and you couldn’t fathom the thought of losing that again.

With your thoughts running rampant and your patience wearing thin, you threw the tools to the ground and sulked up the ladder to find Mando. He didn’t acknowledge you as you threw yourself into the chair beside him, nor did he acknowledge the scowl etched onto your face. Your hands were covered with grease, and you reeked of smoke. You were beyond frustrated.

“How am I supposed to fix the valve if I can’t strip the old you from the pipe?” You grumbled, folding your arms over your chest.

Mando gave a small grunt in response, a pair of pliers in his hands as he worked through the wiring.

“Well?” You grumbled.

“Have you considered breaking the old valve to get it off?” Mando offered.

“And risk puncturing the pipe? Sure, if you want the entire Crest to go up in flames.”

“It won’t go up in flames,” he said. “Try snapping the metal with a compressor. It should only break the valve, not the pipe.”

“I thought about that already, Mando. It won’t work. Plus, your compressor isn’t big enough to grip onto the metal.”

Mando set the pliers down, turning his chair to face you completely. His helmet ran over your body, most likely making a mental note of the frustration painting over every inch of your body. You were supposed to be good at fixing things, but right now, you felt useless.

“We can go back into the village and get a new one,” he suggested. “Something bigger if it means you can get it fixed. How long till the function stops working on the chamber?”

You exhaled, rubbing the skin between your brows to relieve the oncoming headache. “A few days, maybe.”

“That shop should have something to help. We can go.”

You shook your head, nodding towards the nav panel. It still needed so much work till it was functioning again; you couldn’t pull Mando away.

“I’ll go. It’s safe here, and I know where the shop is.”

Mando hesitated with a response, no doubt weighing the risks of you going alone. You knew where to go, and you knew to remain hidden in plain sight; you had done that for months before getting caught.

“Take your hood, and wear the comlink,” he instructed. “If you’re not back in thirty minutes, I’ll find you.”

I’ll find you.

It almost left his lips like a threat, an invitation for consequence if you didn’t obey. Your core warmed at the sound of it the more you tossed the words over in your head. Now was no time to be greedy for his cock, or another round of hate sex like yesterday. Even though you really, really, fucking loved it. Pushing his buttons was becoming one of your best skills, and the more you did it, the more you got out of him. He was less broody and quiet when you angered him, and it felt nice knowing he was real under all that beskar and gruffness.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you said, giving him a playful smile.

“Behave,” he warned, leaning towards you.

You gave him a long eye roll, pushing off the chair and darting down the ladder before he could catch you.

The village was quiet earlier in the morning, the sunlight still peeking through the endless expanse of trees beyond the huts and shops. There weren’t any kids running about either, and you wondered if they were all tucked away, still sleeping. Drawing up your hood, you ventured further into the little market square, heading toward the shop you had gone into yesterday. Though it was early, the door was open, and you spotted the man and woman talking behind the counter. In your presence, they both turned with welcoming smiles.

“You’re back!” The woman exclaimed, rounding the counter to greet you. “Was the valve we chose not correct?”

“I haven’t managed to test it yet. The old one is crusted onto the pipe pretty hard, and I’m looking for a compressor to strip it off,” you explained.

The man joined his wife, nodding along as you explained the issue. He ushered you to the wall of tools towards the eastern wall of the shop, pointing at a row of compressors.

“We have a few different options, depending on the valve size. I assume the one you purchased yesterday is the same as the old one?”

“Yes,” you smiled.

He grabbed one of the compressors off the wall and handed it to you to inspect. It was about an inch larger than Mando's, which would work perfectly.

“I’ll take it,” you decided, following him to the counter.

You gave him a few credits in exchange for the compressor, and all the way, he continued talking.

“Did you need help stripping the old valve? I’m more than happy to help!”

“No, I’m okay. I used to work in a junkyard, so I’m pretty handy,” you chuckled.

He gave you a wide-eyed look, clearly impressed that you knew your way around mechanics. It was refreshing to feel seen by someone and know your knowledge was reciprocated.

“A young girl like you with that skill is impressive,” he noted.

“I can thank my parents for that,” you shrugged.

“I’m sure they are very proud of you.”

And there it was… the dagger right to your chest. You hoped whenever they were, you were making them proud. You failed them in life, but maybe in death, they could see you were trying. You were trying so fucking hard.

You couldn’t form words to express your thanks to him, so you pocketed the compressor and left without another glance back.

The village had started to slowly wake up as you wandered out of the shop, a few families roaming through the market for breakfast and other essentials. You pulled the hood tighter over your eyes, hoping to escape back to the Crest without any attention. You didn’t need any eyes on you when you were working so hard to stay hidden. Even if Mando claimed this planet was safe, that fear of being caught continued to nag you.

You were nearly back to the Crest when a young girl bummed into you, a basket full of fruits on her arm.

“I’m so sorry!” She cried, curling her tiny fist around the handle.

“It’s okay,” you assured her, steering past her body.

“Winta!” you heard a voice call out. “You need to be more careful!”

The mother came into view, running towards the girl—Winta—with an apologetic expression. But you recognized that face, and it chilled your blood. Omera. The woman you had seen talking to Mando yesterday, the woman responsible for all the broken pieces inside of him that he laid out before you. Maker, you hoped your stare was enough to slice through her heart. The scowl on your face was enough to stop her in her tracks, her expression growing confused as you continued to stare.

“I’m sorry about my daughter,” she began, hugging Winta close to her front. “She’s always in her own little world.”

You gave her a stiff nod, not trusting your words as they formed venom on your tongue.

“I haven’t seen you before,” she went on. “Are you traveling through?”

“Something like that,” you bit out.

“If you come back later in the day, we have a full market,” she offered. “It’s—.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

Her welcoming smile slid into a frown, and you noted how simple her features were. She wasn’t memorable, looks-wise, but her kindness was lethal, and you could understand how easily Mando fell into her trap.

“I’m just being hospitable,” she sighed. “We love newcomers here.”

“Look, Omera,” her name off your tongue sent her eyes wide. “I really don’t give a fuck about your hospitality, so please, keep to yourself and leave me alone.”

She bent down to Winta, smoothing over her hair and giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Why don’t you find your friends?” She whispered to her.

Once Winta was far enough away, Omera looked at you with narrow eyes. You shifted your weight to match hers, your hand flexing around the compressor.

“You’re here with Mando.”

“I am,” you frowned. “Is that an issue with you?”

“I have no ill wishes about Mando. I hope you treat him kinder than you’ve treated me.”

Fuck. Her.

You stepped forward, your lips curled up, ready to shoot venomous words in her face. How dare she say that? She doesn’t know Mando anymore; she doesn’t get the privilege of knowing him. Fuck her for weaponizing the past.

“Omera,” came a deep, modulated voice.

You whipped your head around to see Mando walking over, his steps quiet and deadly. He did say he’d find you, and look what you fucking got yourself into.

“Have I done something wrong?” She batted her eyelashes at Mando, blissfully dismissive of you beside him.

“C’mon,” he said your name. “Let’s go.”

“Mando,” Omera pleaded.

He held up a firm hand, taking your arm with the other to pull you away. But Omera stood strong against you both, waiting to give a litany of bullshit, no doubt.

“I’m only trying to be kind,” she sighed. “To both of you.”

“We don’t need your kindness,” you snapped.

Mando tugged on your arm harder, trying to steer you away. You were enraged for Mando, enraged that a woman this simple could have such an effect on him—and worse, on you. Omera held her hands in protest, surrendering to you and your anger.

“We’re leaving,” Mando said firmly to you and Omera.

“I wish you would stay. I have so much to explain,” Omera’s lower lip trembled.

“There’s nothing to explain,” you interjected. “You had your chance once upon a time, and now that time is up. Enjoy your little life with your daughter, and forget us.”

Mando said your name in a clipped tone, and though you knew you had probably overstepped, your anger was slowly growing out of control. You needed to leave before you truly dug yourself a hole. This wasn’t your battle, but it wasn’t Mando’s either. She wasn’t worth a fight.

“I’m ready to go,” you grumbled, escaping Mando’s hold and striding back toward the Crest.

You didn’t have to look back to know Mando was following; you felt his presence tracking yours. You were constantly caught in his trap. Always the hunted, never the hunter. You didn’t understand why the entire ordeal with Omera had you so pissed off; maybe it was the fact she was the sole reason Mando wouldn’t get attached to another person. Maybe you were just angry because she had the life you wished you had. A home. A family. Things you lost and would never have again.

Once you stepped back into the hull, you went straight for the carbonite chamber, hoping to busy yourself with fixing it rather than facing the problem. The thing was, Mando wouldn’t let you get away that easy. If you were learning anything with him, it was that you both shared the same fucking stubbornness.

You twisted on the new compressor to the valve, twisting it to the left until you finally felt the metal snap under the pressure. Letting the metal fall to the ground, you worked on removing the remaining rubber binding to expose the pipe. As your fingers worked at the rubber, you felt the weight of Mando press against your back. You went ridged, choosing to ignore him. His hand brushed the hair from your neck, and his helmet dipped to your ear.

“Don’t ignore me,” he whispered. “Not now.”

Saying nothing, you continued to clean the pipe for the new valve, shivering as his touch trailed over your shoulder and down your bicep. He made it so hard to stay upset, especially when you craved his touch like a starved woman.

“I hate her,” you muttered. “And she has everything I will never have.”

Mando grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to pin you under his silent gaze. You felt like shrinking away, curling into a ball, and rotting away in the darkest corner of the galaxy. The urge to come clean was on the tip of your tongue, nearly impossible to swallow. His helmet tilted to the side, and your grasp on self-reservation was thinning out the longer he stared. If he could be honest with you, you could do the same in return.

The thought of it made your skin crawl. You had never spoken aloud about what you had endured under Kesi and weren’t sure when you’d truly be ready. But maybe you could start slow…

“She has a home,” you whispered. “A family.”

“You’ll have that one day, angel,” Mando reassured. “I’m trying so hard to give that to you.”

You shook your head, your eyes falling to the floor. He didn’t understand that no matter how hard he tried to give you this freedom you yearned for, you still wouldn’t be able to be free of everything that hurt you. No matter how hard you worked for that future, how much danger you put yourself and Mando in for it, it would never amount to the life you could only see others living.

“You don’t understand, Mando.”

His hand came up to cup your chin, guiding your eyes back to him. The current of the past was dragging you under, but you clung to him as you battled against the waves. This was it; this was coming clean.

“Help me understand. Please, angel.”

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, hoping to stop its trembling as you tried to sort through the endless thoughts rushing to the front of your mind. Reaching out for his hands, you led him to the empty crates by the ladder, urging him to sit with you. Once you came clean, everything would change. He wouldn’t look at you the same, wouldn’t fuck you the same, wouldn’t speak to you the same. You’d destroy everything with the words you were about to say, solidifying that you were forever broken. There was no fixing these pieces inside of you. No ounce of freedom would strip away the past and the damage it had done to you. Mando couldn’t save you from it; Maker knows you’ve tried so hard to do it yourself.

“I know you’re going to try and treat me differently,” you sighed. “Please, don’t. I’m not fragile, or at least not as much as I used to be.”

Mando nodded, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward toward you. You inhaled a shaky breath, holding it until your lungs refused to squeeze any longer.

“I can’t have a family,” you started. “Only a week after Kesi took me, he had me sterilized. He barely gave me any sort of sedative during it. I—I felt everything, Mando. All of it.”

He could hardly say your name as you paused to collect your thoughts. He reached to hold your hands, wrapping them between his, keeping you grounded.

“He said it was… better for business,” you winced.

Mando cursed under his breath, and you knew if you could see his face, you’d find his eyes filled with an impossible rage. You couldn’t blame him; that same rage fueled a fire inside of you, constantly thrashing its flames against your ribcage.

“He took me to some outer rim planet after that. I don’t even remember where it was, honestly. He usually kept me in a dark room, tied up and waiting. I wasn’t in ‘the business’ the first few months, but he still used me. Sometimes, it was just him…other times, he brought his associates. I was heavily drugged in the beginning, and part of me is grateful for it. I remember a lot less now.

“But once he decided it was time to have me start working, they wanted to keep me sharp and off of spice. I couldn’t be ‘good’ if I were incapacitated. I need you to understand I wasn’t his associate, Mando. I was his slave. I was a part of the payment during trades. He transported me all over the outer and inner rim, leaving me in shitty inns and random hotels. No one was kind to me.” You paused. “Not like you, Mando. Maker, no one has touched me the way you do.”

“Give me their names—all of them. And I’ll kill every single one. No one will ever fucking touch you again, angel. Only me,” Mando growled.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

You batted away tears that fell on your cheeks, knowing they would flood to the surface and crumble your composure. You had done so well up until then. You managed to get it all out without faltering, but now Mando was being sweet, stirring up many conflicting feelings. He couldn’t get attached to you—you wouldn’t let him. You were tainted, and so broken beyond repair. He deserved someone perfect and pure and secure. He deserved someone who could give a family and a place to call home. You had nothing and no one.

You were nothing.

The longer you stayed, the more you’d hurt him. All he needed to do was kill Kesi, and then you’d be gone. You’d be a comet passing through his sky and disappearing into the darkness. He needed to forget you after all was said and done. You needed to forget him, no matter how hard it was becoming. He was running through your veins, injecting you with all these promises of a future full of safety and comfortable silence.

You needed to run. Run far and fast before he sank his teeth into your soul and sucked you dry.

Attachment would destroy you both.

“I swear I will keep you safe,” Mando drew you closer, pressing his helmet against your forehead. “You’re mine to protect.”

Words wouldn’t surface to your tongue, your protests and cries lodged in your throat. You wanted to scream and tell him he needed to let go. You wanted to beg him to keep you. You had no fucking clue what you wanted and what you needed. Because you needed to leave, and you wanted to stay.

You pulled away from him, the cool touch of his helmet lingering on your skin as you stood and turned away.

“I—I need to finish fixing the valve,” you muttered. “And you should work on the nav so we can get out of here.”

Mando tugged on your wrist, twisting you to look at him. How many more tears could you cry in one day? You’d already given him the worst parts of yourself, and your instinct said to shrink away. Deflect and hide. That’s what you were good at.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said.

“Yeah,” you exhaled.

“I’m going to make him suffer,” he vowed.

“I know.”

He loosened his grip on you, letting you walk away and back to your project on the valve. You blocked out the sounds around you, and soon enough, you were alone in the hull and drowning in your thoughts.

Murdering Kesi wasn’t enough now. Mando needed, no craved, to tear that man apart from the inside out. He wanted to cut every one of his fingers off, each one that ever touched her. Mando wanted to gouge his eyes out so he’d never get to see her again. He wanted to skin him and watch him bleed all over the fucking floor.

He deserved a place worse than hell.

Mando could hardly focus on the nav panel; the wires lost between his fingers as he grappled with her words. Maker, she was so much stronger than he could have ever imagined. No wonder why she had asked him to kill her back on Tatooine. Knowing she would have rather been dead than go back…it said enough. And she was right; she wasn’t fragile. She was a fucking survivor, and now he wanted to protect her from the entire galaxy.

Clearing his mind, Mando worked for another several hours until the wiring was finally untwisted and functioning again. Even with it done, Mando kept to himself for a bit longer, staring out into the clearing before him, seeing the village's lights smolder over the coming dusk. Years ago, he would have loved watching the sunset and sunrise here, having a simple life, and having a family, but he had experienced so much in the time that had passed that he never considered it anymore. He loved the silent life he had built— the hunts, the isolation, the distance. But the past few weeks with her made him doubt he could return to that life.

Everything had a deadline, though; soon enough, he’d have to return to the silence. He’d have to say goodbye.

After a while, Mando went down into the cargo hold, seeing her now curled into bed hidden under the blankets. He made his way to the carbonite chamber, inspecting her work. She was fucking good. Everything was attached and functioning back at its original capacity, and the flashing lights on the quarries were just another reminder of his deadlines. He promised Karga he’d be back by the end of the week with more bounties, but with the mission to Oba Diah soon, Mando wasn’t sure how quickly they’d return to Nevarro.

Looking back at her, he noted the calm rise and fall of her shoulders under the weight of the blanket. He didn’t want to wake her, so Mando slipped inside the refresher, letting the door slide close with a soft hiss. Standing inside, he removed his helmet, turning it towards himself. His thumbs traced over the tinted visor, wondering what she saw in her mind every time she looked at him. He was granted the gift of seeing her face every day, seeing her expressions change with each wave of emotion. He had studied her and began to learn her familiar movements: the outline of a vein on her neck when she was angered, the shake in her fingers when she was scared.

He wondered to himself, in the solitary of the refresher, if she had done the same. Had she analyzed the movements he made when she was in his company, the way he kept his hand near his blaster in case anyone looked at her in the wrong way? Did she notice how he tilted his head each time she argued, as if he were trying to understand the thoughts inside her mind?

Looking at himself, Mando traced the outline of his face in the clouded mirror: the scruff of his beard–bare patches lining his jaw— the tired lines scattering his skin, the hollowness of his eyes. Ever since he was a foundling, a lingering sense of loneliness burrowed itself with him, a loneliness he thought would be filled by his allegiance to the Creed. He had found sanctity in his Clan, the loyalty within himself filling the hole that was left after his parents had been killed. Yet, it was a temporary solution that would not be filled by numerous bounties or forged beskar covering his skin.

She shared that same loss as him, the same grief of losing a family. Yet, she didn’t wear armor to protect herself or swear allegiance to a Creed to survive. She was strong, stronger than he was. She had shown him the rawest parts of herself, telling him the pain of her past and trusting him with her secrets and body. Even if listening to her talk about it killed him, he knew he had been granted a chance to prove himself further. His only job was to kill Kesi, nothing more. After Omera, Mando swore to be loyal to nothing but his Creed, to stand firm in his beliefs, and never let himself grow close to another. But the attachment he felt for her had grown too strong, the loneliness inside of himself shrinking with each passing day he spent beside her. Everything he stood for and sacrificed was threatened by the chance to be loved again.

Mando left the refresher, covering his face again, the burden of emotions weighing heavy on his shoulders. With her still tucked away, he opened the ramp and decided to relieve the pressure in his chest with fresh air. He didn’t go far, just a few feet from the Crest. The moon was traveling up to its peak in the sky, the light of it reflecting off the beskar that clung to Mando’s body. He felt so heavy, so trapped under the armor he wore. He wanted to shed every piece of it off for the first time and be a man, not a Mandalorian.

“Mando?” Her voice was soft against the evening breeze.

He turned to see her standing at the edge of the ramp; the sleepshirt was askew on her body, leaving her collarbones glistening in the moonlight. Maker, she was so beautiful.

“Please, stay on the ship.” Saying her name was like a prayer falling on deaf ears, and knowing her stubbornness, she wasn’t leaving without an answer—one he very well didn’t know how to give without falling apart.

“You’re doing it,” she said. “Treating me differently.”

With a heavy sigh, Mando stared up at the sky, counting each planet in view before responding.

“I’m not,” he said.

He cursed himself for not saying more. But ‘more’ would end everything: his Creed, his promise, his solitude. Mando wasn’t sure he had the strength to say more than those two words; she was unraveling him from the inside out.

She shifted her weight, eyes aglow in the moonlight as it crested above the sky. There it was again, that look of concern. Mando knew the less he said, the more it would hurt her. She had given him so much of herself after battling it for weeks. He wouldn’t treat her differently, but he made no excuse for how her words had torn him apart.

She closed the gap between them, her hands fisting the cowl around his neck. Mando’s arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her in despite the voice inside his head screaming at him to stop. He wanted her close to him; he wanted it only to be his hands touching her. She stared at him, and he swore she could see his eyes behind the visor.

“I’m not fragile.”

“I know you aren’t. I’m just angry.”

“You don’t have to be angry for me. I have enough anger to last a lifetime.”

“Angel, all I feel is anger.”

“Feel something else,” she begged.

“I’m afraid,” Mando choked.

Her brows furrowed together, creating that familiar crease. He lifted a hand to her face, soothing the lines with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut at his touch, the moment between them stretching on forever.

“What’re you afraid of?” She asked, opening her eyes again.

“Everything.”

She curled her fists tighter around the fabric that hugged his neck, anchoring him to the present. His mind was rushing through all the possibilities of what could happen if she stayed or didn’t leave after all was said and done. A loud, modulated exhale left Mando as he cupped her face. She leaned into it, and he reveled in knowing his touch was enough to comfort her.

“I’m afraid, too,” she said.

He had no idea what she was afraid of, nor did he have the right words to console her. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other as the stars moved above them. He couldn’t help but feel like everything was slowly ending, that he would lose her. She was sand beneath his feet, rolling away with the wind, and no matter how hard he tried to keep her, she would vanish. He always knew she would, but he was so fucking afraid to face that day.

“Take me back to the ship,” she whispered. “Help me forget it all.”

By the time Mando had you spread out on the bed, the ramp had barely closed behind you. You were breathless and arching into his touch as he slid his hands down your body. He had shed his gloves at some point, and you shivered as his fingers traced the curves of your body. It wasn’t fast this time, not like your usual hookups together. He was memorizing your skin, outlining the cuts scattered over your torso and thighs. He didn’t ask what they were or where you got them, but the truth seemed to keep spilling.

“I wasn’t allowed to say ‘no,’” you exhaled, your breath shaky.

Mando’s hands stilled on your body, his helmet slowly lifting to look at you.

“You can tell me no, angel. Any time you want, and I promise I’ll stop.”

“I don’t know how to say no to you, Mando.”

He groaned, his fingers working at the supple flesh of your upper thighs. You let out a whine as his fingers trailed between them, slipping under your shorts and dipping into your wet folds. He rubbed circles against your throbbing clit, humming softly when you cried out as the pleasure spiked in your stomach.

“Like that, angel?” His voice was low and husky.

You couldn’t do anything more than nod, grinding against his fingers to release the pressure building inside you. Mando slid a finger inside you, working it in and out at a dangerously slow speed. Adding another finger, your breath hitched as he curled them, your cunt pulsating with each movement. You were on the edge of release, fingers tearing into the blanket under your body as he talked you through it. Your orgasm hit you hard, your ears ringing from either your screams or the growl that left his chest.

“Good girl. So good for me.”

He pulled his fingers from you, lifting the glistening digits to your lips as your tongue darted out to taste. You hadn’t thought it before, but maker, you wished it was his tongue licking off your release. You wanted to know what unadulterated desire looked on his face as you came. Mando unzipped his suit and lined up against you, breaking you away from those fleeting dreams. Even dripping wet, the stretch of his cock came with a sting as he thrust into you. His pace was slow and sensual, one hand at the curve of your waist, the other carding through your hair. Rolling your hips, he pushed deeper, a trail of curses leaving your lips.

“Look at you,” he crooned, moving his hips against yours. “Look at how fucking good you take me.”

His words dripped onto you like honey, covering your body in sticky sweetness until all you could feel, hear, and see was him. You cupped one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between your fingers to flood your body with pleasure. You were ignited from head to toe, your nerves dancing in ecstasy as he thrust in and out of you in a smooth rhythm.

“Mando,” you whimpered.

“Take what you need, angel. Use me until you cum.”

You rolled your hips with each of his strokes, your body succumbing to pure bliss. Mando kept his pace, rocking into you with fervor, crying out as he trailed his hand to the apex of your cunt, applying pressure on your throbbing clit. You were teetering on the edge, your eyes rolling back as that pressure crescendoed until you couldn’t hold it any longer. With a quick snap of his hips, your orgasm washed over you, the quickening sound of your pulse flooding your ears. Your body went limp against the bed; muscles wound too tightly from cumming twice in a row. You didn’t know if your body could handle anymore, but Mando was unrelenting and picked up the pace.

“One more for me,” he begged. “Give me one more.”

“I—can’t!” you cried out.

Your inner thighs were slick from your release, and you arched against his touch as he caged you between his arms. At this angle, his cock was hitting your core at a ruthless speed, his hips snapping against yours with each thrust. You were entirely at his mercy, letting him chase his own release as you lay in pure bliss. Your body was strung out and buzzing with the orgasms he already pulled for you, and yet, you were desperate to give him more.

You couldn’t stop giving him more.

“Fuck, angel,” he grunted. “I—”

His words electrified you, pleasure rolling down your spine as you tightened around his cock. A choked gasp lodged itself in his throat, his body tensing up as he filled you with his cum. Slumping against you, Mando nestled himself into the crook of your neck, the cool touch of his beskar forcing a ripple of goosebumps over your skin. Your hands reached up to squeeze his biceps, kneading at the muscles under his suit. He let out a loud moan, his weight pressing further into you. You’d let him stay with you tonight, soaking in the moments of his body pressed against yours. He had made you forget it all, even for a brief moment, but as the fog in your mind cleared, you realized how content that made you feel. And that terrified you. You had to make a plan to run and hope he wouldn’t catch you.

You had to leave.

#mando x reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando #pedro pascal characters #mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfiction #smut and angst

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odyssean-flower · 8 months

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The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 2: The Wonders of Water

summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side...but then your boss showed up. Masterpost here

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

On that first week back to work after your surreal weekend, Neuvillette didn’t make any contact with you. No visit to your desk, not even a note. You had expected it, of course. The Chief Justice was a busy man with his mind preoccupied with matters that were far more important than you. He had probably forgotten all about you. If you were honest, you were a little bit disappointed, but at least this would make for a fun story to tell, right?

Not that you told anyone about it. You weren’t even sure how to explain it.

On Friday, just as you were thinking of pursuing another hobby, preferably within the city, the Melusine who worked at the front desk, Sedene, delivered a note to you.

“Hello there, [Name],” the short Melusine said as she approached you, holding a folded piece of paper in her hand. “I have a message here from Monsieur Neuvillette.”

You almost thought you misheard. You looked around to see if there was anyone else near you, but you were the only one in the office. It was Friday, and everyone had vacated the Palais Mermonia as soon as the clock struck the end of the work day.

“Um…from Monsieur Neuvillette, you say?” you asked. “It’s really from him? And for me?”

“Who else would it be from?” Sedene tilted her head to the side. “He told me that you would be expecting it. Although, I was also surprised when he asked me to do this. I don’t think he’s ever delivered a handwritten note to a human before.”

Oh, great. Does that mean he’s actually expecting something from me? Your palms were getting sweaty, but you accepted the note. “Thank you, Sedene.”

After the Melusine left, you opened the note. It contained a location written in elegant handwriting. Neuvillette was asking you to go to the mountains north of the city.

Well, it seemed that your fate was sealed. So much for relaxing outside of work.

That was what you thought back then, but to your surprise, weekends with Neuvillette were actually pretty…enjoyable?

Every Friday, he would send a note with a location. You would go there with your painting supplies, greet him, and start painting.

Although you still felt somewhat bitter about having to pick out a nice and respectable outfit even when you weren’t at work, you had to admit, Neuvillette really did know the best spots for painting.

The gray mountains capped with snow, the rolling fields of green dotted with flowers and rustic-looking houses, even the sinister and creepy-looking Elynas. For a lifelong city dweller like you, these sights were just as awe-inspiring and breathtaking as what you imagined the soaring peaks of Liyue or the lush green jungles of Sumeru to be like.

With these sceneries and your empty canvas before you, the urge to jump into the act of creation almost overpowered your nervousness.

There wasn't much talking done during these sessions, just you trying your best to depict what you saw with the tools you had at hand. Neuvillette would simply stand there, gazing off into the distance. Sometimes, you would sneak a glance at his profile to see if anything changed. It never did, or if it did, you were too slow to catch it. You never felt his gaze on you while you were painting, but it didn't feel like he was ignoring you. It felt more like he was trying to be considerate towards you as you were working.

It was hard to figure out how long you should take to finish your paintings. On one hand, you didn't want to take up too much of his time (nor your own), but on the other hand, taking too little time to take in the view and focus on your artwork felt disrespectable. You had to keep reminding yourself that this was your leisure time, so you should take however long you please, and anyway, Neuvillette was the one who always stayed there after you left.

Once you were done your painting, you would show it to him, and he would compliment it. You didn't know where he was getting those compliments from and had the suspicion that his ability to appreciate art was tragically askew. But somehow, his words sounded genuine. Though you felt not a little pressure to improve each and every week, hearing his kind words made you walk into work with a little more spring in your step.

Your weekends with Neuvillette weren't something you exactly looked forward to with anticipation, but they were never the worst part of your week.

It felt a bit dramatic to call it a double life…but it really did feel like one.

During the week, you were just one of many ordinary office workers diligently working at their desks, unnoticed by those above you, much less the Chief Justice (well, now that you knew that he knew your work, it suddenly felt like there was a heavy gaze upon you). But on the weekend, you were…well, an amateur painter who somehow got taken under the wing of Monsieur Neuvillette himself.

You haven't told anyone about him, not even your best friend. Something about telling people about what you do on the weekends felt wrong, almost scandalous, even though it was nothing of the sort. You didn't want to deal with a barrage of questions, and what if those reporters from the Steambird found out?

It was scary how something could become an unremarkable, normal part of a routine once you done it enough times. For you, it didn't take long before you were comfortable enough to sit with your legs spread slightly apart or mumble to yourself as you mixed colors. While you were still somewhat nervous dealing with him, and you definitely wouldn't call you and Neuvillette friends, you no longer felt like a small mouse trying its best to take up the least amount of space as possible in the fear of being noticed by the cat.

As for your painting skills...well, improvement was a slow and steady thing.

Neuvillette was as inscrutable as ever, but you were beginning to learn how to read him.

The weather wasn't good today. It wasn't raining, but the skies were covered in gray clouds. Furthermore, Neuvillette was unhappy. You had no idea why, and he wasn't giving any explanation. You were ninety percent sure it had nothing to do with you, since he had already been like this when you got here. But still, you could feel waves of moroseness coming off from him, and it was affecting your work.

After hearing a small, nearly imperceptible sigh issue from his lips, you decided to pluck up the courage and ask him what was bothering him. Hey, I'm showing initiative here, aren't I? You attempted to give yourself a pep talk.

"Um, excuse me, Monsieur Neuvillette," you begin, trying to inject the right amount of politeness and concern into your voice. "I can't help but notice that there is something on your mind..."

Neuvillette turned at your voice. There was surprise in his eyes, like he hadn't expected you to ask about him.

"My apologies. I didn't know my mood was affecting you. Please, feel free to disregard me."

"Oh, it doesn't bother me at all," you half-lied. "I'm just worried that you're not enjoying yourself, sir."

"My enjoyment shouldn't be a cause of concern for you. You only need to focus on your painting while you are here."

"But I shouldn't be the only one having a good time. This is your rest day as well."

"Please, [Name], there is no need to worry about me. Your enjoyment is my--"

"Monsieur Neuvillette, please tell me what's bothering you! I really want to know!" you unconsciously raised your voice, then immediately clapped your hands to your mouth upon realizing what you had done. "Oh Archons, I'm so sorry."

There was a short silence after you said that.

Crap, crap, crap.

He's going to push me into the waters and then I'm going to sink to the bottom and become fish food-

"It's the water here." His calm voice broke through your panicked thoughts. "It leaves much to be desired. I felt upset for bringing you to such an unfit place to paint."

"The...water?" you looked around. This weekend, Neuvillette took you to a small island near Romaritime Harbor. The water here was sapphire-blue and clear, just like the water everywhere in Fontaine. "I don't really see what's wrong with it..."

"Let me show you." A silver cup suddenly appeared in Neuvillette's hand. Where did that come from?

He scooped up some water in the cup and swirled it, then showed it to you. It looked like...extremely pure water.

"Do you see how different this water is from the location we visited last weekend? The scent, the texture, and..." he took a sip of the water before your incredulous eyes, then grimaced. "The taste. All of it is utterly subpar."

He then went on a rant about how water was different in different places. He must have been bottling this up, because he kept talking for about ten minutes. You had never seen him talk so animatedly before. It was honestly pretty refreshing, even though you had no idea what he was talking about. So, you just kept nodding and saying "uh huh" at the appropriate moments.

"Um...if you say so, sir. Although, I think this place is just as lovely as all the other places you've brought me to," you said after he finally concluded.

He stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. "No, not at all. You deserve only the best."

Your cheeks warmed. Did he really just say that!?

"Next week, I will take you to a far more beautiful place," he said solemnly. He raised his hand awkwardly, hesitantly, then placed it on your shoulder. "I promise."

You could still feel the weight of his hand on his shoulder even after you returned to work on Monday.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #my works #painter series

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