#we do bones here motherfucker
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Harrowhark Nonagesimus. The Ninth Saint to the Serve the King Undying, the Reverend Daughter of Drearburh and Heir to the House of the Ninth.
Also known as Desiccated Mummy of Hate, Gloom Mistress, Sunshine, Hideous witch from hell, Bone Empress, Skull-Faced Fruitcake, etc...
Oil paint on canvas panel, 30x40 cm.
Seriously, The Locked Tomb is one of the best book series I've read recently. It's complex, funny and Harrow is an awesome character.
#Locked Tomb#The Locked Tomb#We do bones here#we do bones here motherfucker#we do bones here bitch#Harrowhark#Harrowhark Nonagesimus#The Locked Tomb Fanart#oil painting#portrait#oil portrait#Bone Empress#Skull faced fruitcake#Harrow the Ninth
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I love love love the moment in Gideon the Ninth where the Third challenges the Sixth in a clearly unfair move, and Gideon, half-on-instinct, still faking a vow of silence, simply unsheathes her sword, at which Harrow doesn't miss a beat and says her "The Ninth House will represent the Sixth House" line, while Gideon just smiles.
In Gideon's head this is "I am not standing for this shit anymore. For the love of God, Harrow, please understand what I'm doing and back me up here. Oh thank fuck you've got it. I'm so happy I could kiss you."
In Harrow's head this appears to be "For fuck's sakes, Nav, what do you think you're doing. Ok, think. Can't give anything away. Have to project unity, but fuck you, Griddle, for making me do this."
But for everyone else this is the legendary, mysterious, terrifying, bone magicians of the Ninth House, with no warning, stepping between the Sixth and the Third. The skull-faced cavalier who hasn't said a single word simply drawing her sword. The shockingly powerful and inscrutable necromancer matter-of-factly declaring an alliance that no-one, even the supposed allies, knew about. The sinister smirk on the cavalier's face. And the line from Harrowhark: "Death first to vultures and scavengers."
I love it so much and I love additionally the moment that this sets up in the climax, which is essentially the same emotional beat, the key changes being 1) both Harrow and Gideon have become open and vocal with each other; 2) both Harrow and Gideon are working together consciously as well as instinctively; 3) their opponents don't back down so they follow through. "Nav, show them what the Ninth House does." "We do bones, motherfucker."
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like jesus okay i’m basically anti war & certainly anti iraq & afghanistan and so i’m like 100% biased but this sort of television just. doesn’t make the military come off in any sort of good light. when television can’t come up with halfway decent justification for this shit that even me, as someone’s whose just studied law at the undergraduate level, can pick apart, it’s pretty pathetic. there are not justifications for war crimes & given both invasions were big fat war crimes, any sort of justification on television comes across as weak willed & pathetic.
#i rant#bones#i guess#this kind of has gone beyond the episode itself tbh#i’m just like perpetually angry about those wars#and YEA i know saddam’s government was evil are you kidding me you read about his chain of command & it’s like#this guy tested chemical weapons on rural villages for fun!#but i grew up in the american southwest. do you know the number of people impacted by atomic testing ?? the number of communities destroyed?#every single congress and president who refuses to do shit for the downwinders are complicit in their deaths#explain how that’s different than chemical ali???#so some of it is like. we refuse to clean up our messes at home & we think we can just fuck around abroad? no actually.#but the other part of it is that we funded the fucking taliban. and isis. we supplied them weapons. and were shocked when it came to bite us#reap what you sow you dumbass republican motherfuckers.#i’ve somewhat gotten off track here but christ. military propaganda’s so goddamn dumb. if you got two brain cells you can see the flaws
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Intoxicated rn but i have been hit by the best idea. Gonna cosplay god!
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"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen
Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)
And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.
*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*
ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.
So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)
even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).
I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.
youtube
Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.
But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.
He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.
He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.
(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)
He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.
His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.
Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.
I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.
Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...
I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.
Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.
Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.
Such a pretty shade of yellow.
Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.
Delicious demon digits
Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?
He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting
Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?
Fuuuuuuuck
With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.
Proper gentleman side part? Check.
Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.
Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!
It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.
Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!
To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”
Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).
They are almost illegally cute together
We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.
Stupid sexy snek
And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.
Georgia is a very lucky woman
Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?
#david tennant#crowley#thank you for coming to my ted talk#really more of a david talk#i feel very normal about him#not at all feral or rabid#staged#doctor who#10th doctor#14th doctor#kilgrave#good omens gifs#good omens#good omens 2#gif warning#slinky hips#crowley's hair is like a separate character#both an appreciation AND an objectification#Youtube#i just really like hands ok#they grow them differently in Scotland#he's got hands that I want to touch and be touched by
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little witch
pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader
tags: 18+ graphic smut, rough sex, outdoor/public sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, weed, parties, unprotected piv, creampie, squirting, orgasm denial, dom!eddie
summary: a slutty witch costume combined with eddie’s determination to live up to his devilish attire creates a night that both of you are sure to remember.
a/n: definitely going 2 hell for this one. enjoy! recommend listening to tear u apart by she wants revenge or this season of the witch song :)
‘It’s gonna be fun,’ they told him. ‘Why would we pass up an invitation to the coolest party of the year when we never get these opportunities anyways?’ they said.
Jeff and Gareth are fucking idiots. Eddie doesn’t fit in here. None of them do. They stick out like terribly sore thumbs, and it’s nearly comical how obviously misplaced they are amongst this adolescent swarm of boring costumes.
Eddie looks like he walked straight out of the D&D dungeon master’s guide: devil-like horns attached to a flimsy headband that he had stolen from little Erica Sinclair, a red cape tucked into the collar of his signature Hellfire t-shirt, because — of course — how could he ever go a day without it? All of this coupled with a leather jacket, distressed denim and dark liner smudged around his eyes.
What is he exactly? It’s hard to say. His best description is: Izzy Stradlin of Guns N’ Roses meets the baatezu from the Nine Hells of Baator.
Or simply put – a sexy, red gothic devil.
Hawkins High’s infamous Halloween party sits right on the edge of a woodsy Indiana forest, nothing but oddly cut jack-o-lanterns and wax candles decorating the tops of tattered picnic tables. Hard soil and autumn leaves crunch beneath Eddie’s combat boots as he nurses his third solo cup of the night, already seeking for something stronger when he sees Jeff and Gareth being chatted up by a couple eager girls from the debate team.
Goddamn, do they really have more game than him?
He winces, lips curling into a distasteful frown as he busies himself by the candy table and slips a purple lollipop into his mouth with raised brows. In the corner of the crowd, Eddie glances at a couple making out by the beer keg that seem to be quite literally jumping at each other’s bones in public. Boo. He groans in annoyance, looking over his shoulder to find a classic blonde-brunette combo eating each other’s faces just as passionately.
Must be fucking nice.
Yeah, no. He’s going for a walk. Fuck this party and fuck everyone here, including Jeff and Gareth.
Never liked Halloween anyways. Always been more of a Valentine’s Day kind-of-guy.
Eddie crushes his solo cup and chucks it onto a random table, ignoring the protests of his classmates when he displays no intention of stopping or apologizing as he cooly saunters past. The silver chains strung across his belt loops jingle whilst he takes swift strides into the forest; the ruckus of the party fades behind him with each firm step he takes, the prominent wrinkles in his forehead softening as his ears free from a looping mixtape of Thriller.
He continues suckling on his lollipop, a stormy purple staining his tongue as he ventures deeper into the forest and away from that godforsaken, amateur highschool party. Whatever that fucking was, he’s over it. Completely and utterly over it.
That’s when he stumbles onto a clearing in the middle of the woods, surrounded by looming trees circling an old picnic table and…
You. Alone.
Eddie comes to a halt as soon as he sees the faint flickering of orange. Heavy curses fall from your lips as you tend to the tightly-rolled blunt between your fingers, a flame failing to ignite as a result of the cheap Zippo lighter in your opposite hand.
“Goddammit… shit… motherfucking…” You grunt, hurling the lighter in Eddie’s direction. He ducks immediately, eyes bulging out of his head like deer-in-headlights when you finally lock stares. Your childish gaze bounces from the discarded lighter to Eddie’s face. “I… um…”
He definitely knows you, even under the darkness of a haunting midnight sky. Definitely. He’s instantly taken back to the fall semester of his (second attempt) of senior year, having had you in a previous class where he often wondered what the pretty girl’s name who sat in the front was.
And said pretty girl is blinking at him expectantly.
Anyday now. Anyday. Say something, fucker.
“Need, uh, a light?”
Eddie digs his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, fumbling with the boxy metal before you’re nodding at him with curious eyes and a soft smile. He quickly meets you halfway, feeling his heartbeat stutter when your manicured fingers brush against his palm and your warmth lingers upon his skin.
He takes in the sight of the witch hat resting atop your head, a classic black one that slopes into a swirl at the tip. Your lips are blood-red, almost complimenting the shade of Eddie’s cape and devil horns. A short, raven-colored dress hugs your body perfectly, the flowing sleeves flaring out by your hands as you successfully ignite the joint hanging from your faint smirk.
“Thanks.” You mumble, taking a heavy drag with an appreciative hum before you’re handing back his lighter and sitting down on the wooden bench. He follows suit, whispering a resigned ‘No problem’ as he plops himself onto the opposite end and tosses his lollipop stick to the side. “Party sucked?”
“Yeah, always does.”
“Oh, that’s never good.”
A pause.
“I like your costume…”
“Your costume is…”
The sentences fill the silence simultaneously, causing sincere laughter to follow suit on both parts as you sneakily glance at each other with wide grins. You lean over, sticking out your smaller palm with outstretched fingers. “Alright, I’m Y/N.”
Y/N, he repeats to himself.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate, gingerly enveloping his hand overs yours as he gives it a gentle squeeze. “And I’m—“
“Eddie.” You smile brightly, flicking the blunt against the edge of the table. “I know you. Hellfire himself, right?”
You know him. As if his stomach wasn’t churning with excitement already… you know him — not as the long-haired freak walking the hallways of Hawkins High, but as Eddie “Hellfire Himself” Munson. He can’t fight off the blood that rushes to his face; pink spreads across the bridge of his nose and cheeks as he catches your intent gaze accompanied by that enticing curl of your red lips.
“Yes, it is I… in the flesh.” He chuckles. “And Y/N,” Your name is sweet on his tongue, the name he’d finally come to learn after many months of pointless pining in history class back then. The name that he can’t help but play over and over again in his head, a melody of syllables too gentle for someone of his candor. He points at you, stressing each word with gaiety. “Miss top of the class, graduating senior president, is that right?”
You shrug casually. “In the flesh.”
He huffs in amusement, scratching his neck before he shamelessly watches you finger the thick layering of necklaces swooping into the fleshy valley of your breasts. You clear your throat, hiding your own pleased expression as his eyes helplessly bounce back up to your face with that boyish fear of having been caught looking at places he shouldn’t have been looking at.
Fuck, is it getting hot or is it just him? Awkwardly, he shrugs off his leather jacket, haphazardly laying it over the bench.
Okay, could Eddie seriously blame himself? He’s respectful. He is. Believe him when he says he loves women, and men. Yet it’s almost as if you’re letting him look, angling your hips towards him and parting your knees ever-so-slightly so that your short dress strategically rides up the expanse of your thighs. If you hike your leg up just a little bit higher, he’d see… fuck, he doesn’t know you like that. Stop it.
Does it matter, though?
“So, Eddie, what’s the reasoning behind…” You shift closer to his side of the table. Eddie’s gaze follows the way your fingers dart for the collar of his cape, thumb and forefinger rubbing the fabric purposefully. Your eyes lock, the corners of your lips tugging into a contagious line that Eddie can’t help but mirror. “... this bold choice of costume? A red devil is never good news.”
He wants to wipe that smirk clean off of your mouth. Maybe take some of your lipstick with it, too.
“I’m a good boy today, Y/N. Promise.” He smiles, swearing that he feels your body stiffen against him. “But I mean… it is Halloween, of course. Everyone’s on their worst behavior, pissing their own pants, ready to rob kids for candy…” If he hadn’t been so glued to the glittery shadow around your lids and the smudged mascara under your lower lashes, he wouldn’t have seen your not-so-subtle attempt at glancing at his lap. “... making out in… haunted places. You know, the usual.”
You squint. “Right.”
“Mhm.”
The bench creaks as you stand up, fingers tugging the length of your minidress back over your ass as you kick one boot in front of the other. Eddie remains frozen in his place, reddish leaves trailing past his line of sight while you lean yourself against a tall tree trunk.
You’re teasing him.
He doesn't even fully know you, and he’s already hoping for certain ways this could go.
If you wanted to play that game, you could’ve just asked.
“You know people say these woods are haunted?” Crossing your ankles, your newfound companion doesn’t tear his eyes off of your ripped fishnets, savouring your generous display of cleavage and gorgeous hips as you pull your blunt away from your lips with a hiss and wave it around. “Back in the 1700s, after the Salem witch trials… there were actually rumors that there had been some runaway witches in Hawkins. Didn’t turn out too well for them in the end.”
“Yeah? What happened?” You push off of the tree with the heel of your boot, slowly pacing your way back towards Eddie.
His thighs are spread apart widely, ringed hands drumming patiently against the tattoos on his forearms.
Fuck, he looks good.
“Whatever happens to all witches, I suppose.” You grin mischievously with enthusiastic eyes. “But I’ve always heard these parts are… full of spirits because of the… well, y’know.” A beat, then your knee is slowly pressing up against Eddie’s as you stare at the ground shyly with fluttering lashes. “Shame no one’s living up to Halloween tradition and making out — like you said — in… such a haunted place like this one.”
He exhales shakily, clenching his jaw when you curiously peer at him. “Most definitely.”
“I mean…” You giggle and turn your back to him, unable to see Eddie’s face contort into one of disappointment from the loss of physical contact. “I’m certain there’s an adorable, lovesick couple just bound to show up and fulfill…”
When you twirl around to teasingly look at Eddie, you nearly gasp out of surprise when you collide roughly with his chest. Your balance nearly gives way, but not before his pale hands grip onto your wrists and hold you upright. His knuckles are prominent, eyebrows pulled into a deep furrow and lips parted as his lust-blown pupils eagerly search yours.
He’s struggling.
And you think… this is finally it. Eddie Munson, the guy from the back of class who you’ve always kinda had a thing for, is gonna actually kiss you. Halloween night. 1986. Your peak.
But what he does next is almost as jarring as a kiss.
He carefully takes the blunt between your fingers, almost assessing the image of your lipstick stain on the end before he’s shamelessly putting his own mouth on it without hesitation. His eyes. His fucking eyes. They never leave yours, even when he inhales the joint deeply and quickly lets out an experienced exhale into your embarrassingly stunned face.
Whatever confidence you had going diminishes into a tangled ball of nothingness when Eddie holds the roll in front of your mouth, gaze half-lidded and tongue poking out from between his teeth.
“Open,” He says. And so you follow without protest, unblinking and suddenly submissive as he slips the joint back into its original place between your lips with a devilish chuckle. “Atta girl. Does what she’s told, doesn’t she?”
You gulp, only focusing on the taste of Eddie amongst the rolling paper. “Depends on who’s telling me.”
“Right, right. So, if I posed an idea… like well, fulfilling that very special tradition of… say, I don’t know, making out in a haunted place… just to make sure we’re really nailing the Halloween festivities here, little witch…” He humorously flicks at your hat, costumed horns bouncing while he begins to back you up against a tree. Eddie’s grin somehow widens even more, pearly-white canines on display as you slowly take a step back with each step he takes forward. “You definitely, definitely wouldn’t help me fulfill it, would you? Since it… after all, depends. And I’m sure the senior class president doesn’t take orders from… student delinquents like me.”
“Eddie…” You manage to breathe out, joint falling from your mouth as your back presses against the rough texture of tree bark.
“I mean, honestly, what are you doing all alone back here? Just… waiting for someone to stumble upon you and… what? What then, Y/N?” He laughs innocently, and you instinctively squeeze your thighs together as his fingers toy with the chains decorating his belt loops.
“Honestly?” You gaze up at him from beneath the black rim of your witch hat, mascara delicately framing the whites of your eyes. “Saw a tempting, red devil on the way here — thought he looked a little too lonely for a night like this one, especially when he just looked so good in such a simple costume. ‘Was hoping he’d find me… all alone, like you said.” You bite your lip. Eddie tilts his chin up and pins you with his eyes. “Was hoping that you’d find me all alone, and that I could… fuck, you looked bored at — at the party, and I figured you’d…”
“Come out and meet you…” Eddie finishes. You nod slowly.
“Halloween festivities, you know.”
He hums. “Right.” It’s silent for a good minute, until you feel Eddie’s hand ghost over your arm, trailing up your shoulder with such gentleness, you wouldn’t have even realized he had been touching you in the first place. “Well, I guess… if this place is haunted like you said, and if we’re the only two people out here…”
“Yeah?” Your voice comes out as a hushed whimper.
Eddie’s ears perk up at the sound. He pauses to catch his breath, desperately holding onto the remnants of his self-control.
“Then maybe, just maybe, we could always follow tradition. Is that… is that what you wanted, Y/N? For me to come out here just so we could make-out in the dark, away from the noise, tucked away deep in the forest where… no one can hear us? No matter how loud we’ll get?” A breathy moan escapes from the back of your throat, and Eddie realizes that he’s broken past whatever act you had going on. “That’s it, isn’t it? Hey, come on. Look at me, Y/N.” You raise your chin from your chest, meeting Eddie’s now softer eyes. “What do you want from me?”
He reaches for your hat, pulling it up and away from your face before his palms are resting against your cheeks. “Um, want you to…”
“To…” He spurs you on, stroking your skin with his thumbs.
In the shadows, Eddie’s face is so desperately close to yours that you can just smell the strong fragrance of his earthy cologne and the faint lingering taste of whatever he had been drinking.
All or nothing.
“To kiss me.” You swallow loudly, forcing the words out of your mouth. “Kiss me and… and don’t stop, please? Eddie?”
His eyes bore deep into yours, nothing but a lustful twinkle in his near-black pupils as he inhales deeply.
“Damn it, Y/N. All you had to do was fucking ask from the start.”
By the time the words finally leave him, Eddie’s lips are on you. It’s far from sweet, aching with a clandestine fervor as his mouth moves harshly against yours. Hot. Searing. Wet. Your fists are woven tightly amongst the cotton of his Hellfire shirt, and you kiss him helplessly with eyes clenched-shut, the sensation of his warm tongue keeping you in a trance.
Overpowering. Imperfect. Messy.
Yet, you want more of him.
You feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath your nose, fingers rustling through his hair as you cave into one another with unrestrained motion. Warmth blossoms in Eddie’s stomach as you lean back against the tree trunk to pull away, the fresh memory of your moans dancing against his pillowy lips while you stumble for air.
“Was that okay?” He whispers tenderly. You could almost burst out in laughter. How could his tone be so patient and friendly when his kiss had been nothing but wanton and needy? Slowly, a smile spreads across your cheeks, a weak nod following. “Can I do it again?”
“You can do anything you want.” You answer, brushing his hair away from his face before his hands drift down to your waist.
The action is suggestive, fingers leaving deep indents in the supple flesh of where hip-meets-thigh as he slips his knee between your legs. Then his mouth is on your body again. He’s more adventurous this second time around, letting his lips trail over your shoulder and the conch of your ear before he’s kissing his way down your outstretched throat — biting, licking, sucking.
He’s hard. Really hard.
“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is whiny, nothing but a simple rasp filling the air as you sensually tend to his pale neck, teeth nibbling the skin until porcelain turns to a blooming red. “S-Sweetheart, hey… I don’t… fucking hell, don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t want to—“
“But I want to. I’m okay if you’re okay.”
“Shit, okay. Okay. I… fuck, I wasn’t expecting more than a kiss, but…” He moans embarrassingly loud when you tug at the curls of his hair, tilting his chin back so that you have more access to his throat. “Fuck, I hope you don’t think I’m like — like any of those assholes back there… just… looking for a quick fuck or anything….”
“Were you not?”
“Fine, maybe I was. Maybe I wanted to — to run into a… pretty girl like you… sitting alone out here, all dressed up with a shitty fucking lighter, by the way. Bet that was part of your plan too, huh? Reel me in and smoke that pathetic joint like you’re all tough?” Eddie cradles the back of your neck with his hand, whispering lewdly against your lips as he searches for another kiss. “God, you’re so hot. So hot.”
“You didn’t even k-know my name…”
“Shut it. I do now, and I want nothing more than — fuck, than to just say it over and over again until you get tired of hearing it.”
“Yeah?” You smirk against Eddie’s skin, glancing up at his beat-red face and the lopsided devil horns on his head before gingerly reaching up to toss them aside.
He’s a devil, alright.
Eddie nods eagerly, eyes cracking open when he feels your mouth leave him and the familiar clicking sound of his belt buckle. Holy fucking shit. “Oh, here? Like right here f-for real?” He gapes at you as you unbutton his jeans, slipping your hand into his pants to palm at the hard front of his boxers.
“Having second thoughts?”
“You’re… you’re fucking insane.” He chuckles in disbelief, groaning quietly when you rest your forehead against his shoulder and free his cock from his clothing. Glancing up at the sky, Eddie humorously whispers to himself. “Oh, crazy girls will just be the death of me.”
“Eddie, you’re so big…” You wrap your fingers around his swollen tip, moaning as you collect the pre-cum leaking from his slit. You pump him a couple times in your hand, grinning as Eddie’s face falls into the crook of your neck. “Dunno if it’ll fit me.”
“Mmm… oh, Y/N — fuck…”
“Feels good?” You lick at his earlobe, purring as you run your digits across the two veins on either side of the base.
Eddie’s weight against you is nearly crushing, but you can only pay attention to the feeling of his hard, heavy cock twitching in your grasp as you stroke him.
“Christ, feels amazing. Fuck, baby…” The pet name leaves him without hesitation. He chokes on his own moans, incoherent praises falling from his lips as he desperately splays his palm against the tree for leverage. His eyes follow the motion of you spitting into your hand, before you’re covering his dick in bubbly spit. “O-Oh, shit… that’s hot. Motherfuckin’ Ozzy… m’fuck, you’re jerking me off s-so well. God, I wonder how — wonder how tight you are…”
“Want you…” You confess, mewling in pleasure as his other palm kneads at your ass. “I bet you taste so good, Eddie.”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” He groans needily, breaths stuttering in his throat as you sink to your knees. Leaves crunch beneath your limbs, sharp twigs digging into your calves as Eddie watches you tug his jeans lower down his hips. “Listen, o-once you put your mouth on me… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
“Mmm, stop what?” You innocently bat your lashes at him, gently flicking your tongue against his reddened head.
“To stop fucking your throat.” Eddie’s mouth falls ajar as soon as he feels you take him in. “I just… crap, I can’t help it. Just no self-control… please, let me fuck it? Yeah? Is that okay?” He whimpers. “Oh, you’re such a good girl, Y/N. Giving me all I-I want… fuck, can’t wait to get my hands on you…” Spit dribbles from your chin as you gag around him, feeling his dick poke against the back of your throat while he places his hands on either side of your head. “Look at you, baby. On your knees in the middle of t-the fucking forest… patiently waiting to have your entire mouth stuffed… s’what good girls do, don’t they?”
You scratch at the tattoos on his thighs as he gives one hard thrust into your face, nearly doubling back from the sudden force. Breathe. Just breathe through it. His cock isn’t necessarily too thick, but the length — god, he could split you open.
Eight inches, curve angling to the left, you can literally feel him prodding and poking at the inside of your cheek. Your fingers are curling against his skin, pornographic sounds erupting from the both of you as Eddie guides your head up and down his dick.
“Oh… little witch,” He chuckles devilishly, wiping the tears away from your eyes as he gently inches his cock further into your mouth. Sadist. “Don’t cry, it’s supposed to feel good. You like this, don’t you? God, what would all our classmates say if they walked in on this right now?” You nearly yelp as he pushes himself deeper into you, your knees giving out from under you so that you’re sat upright against the tree. “The super intelligent, super hot, senior class president… getting her mouth f-fucked by the resident freak… oh, just imagine the drama.”
Your legs are crudely spread open, dress covered in dirt and leaves as Eddie continues thrusting into your throat. All you can smell is him. All you can think about is Eddie Munson. How embarrassingly satisfying this all feels — just as much for you as for him.
“Fuck, Y/N. Your mouth is just… Christ, you’re perfect, aren’t you? Perfect thing. Perfect throat. Probably with an even better pussy… the things I wanna do to you. F-Fuck’s sake, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart.” He quickly pulls away, and it’s absolutely pathetic how you instinctively chase after his cock with your tongue until he’s tugging you up onto your feet. “Pretty girl, oh, look at you… wish you could see how messy you look right now. So fucking hot, so fucking dirty, you are.”
“E-Eddie…” You whimper as his teeth pinch at your collarbones, marking the tops of your breasts until he’s grown feral at the sight of his hickies on your skin. His dick is hard against your thigh, and only then are you reminded of how your cunt is helplessly throbbing at the sight of it. “Please, I… please, need you inside m-me…”
His hand roughly grasps at your chin.
“Yeah? Aw, you’re a needy thing, aren’t you? Such a filthy mouth for a good little slut…” He chuckles, mirroring your pout as his grip tightens. “Maybe we should wash it out, hm? All this flattery is just getting to my head. Come on. Say, ah.”
“Ah…” You moan as he spits onto your tongue, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lips together before he’s pulling you in for another heated kiss. His hands are bruising, his fingers cruel, his touch burning. “Please, Eddie…”
“Please what?”
“Please touch my — my…”
He smirks lustfully, brushing the moisture away from your lashes. “Oh, your pussy? Anything for you, sweetheart.” You yelp as he suddenly turns you around, cock twitching against your clothed ass. He pushes against you, walking you over to the rickety picnic table until you’re bent over the edge. “Boutta treat you so well, Y/N. Just relax for me. Gonna put my fingers inside you, is that cool?” You nod wordlessly, splinters digging into your palms as Eddie flips up your dress, hissing at the sight of your exposed cunt. “No… no panties, huh? Seriously? Fuck, you’re gonna kill me. Such a pretty ass… pretty holes…” He groans, swiping his thumb over your clit. You jolt at the sensation, shoulders heaving as he quickly swirls it over your entrance. “You’re so wet and already so sensitive… s’driving me insane. How am I ever gonna last?”
You cry out when he pushes his middle finger into you, juices squelching around his rings as he slowly fucks the nimble digit in and out of your sopping pussy. “F-Fuck, Eddie… I… feels so g-good, baby.”
“Yeah? Baby, huh? Love hearing you talk me through it. Tell me, have you always fantasized getting fingered out here? That’s a little sick in the head, don’t you think? And they call me a freak…” You glance at him over your shoulder, moaning unapologetically as he adds another finger. “Mmm, alright, you’re getting a bit loud. Fuck, you want that party to catch us? Catch us making a mess of each other back here… making each other feel so, so good?”
You knew Eddie had a dark, dirty side to him. There was no way he didn't have one, especially when he’d come to school dressed like that — chains on display for girls and guys to gawk at, rings decorating his fingers like they were his favorite asset.
Yeah. He’s just as fucked in the head, maybe even more.
You’re just glad you get to be the one to experience it.
“I don’t care. Let them hear us… fuck — it’s just…. oh, god… your fingers are just… they fill me so well. Just imagine your… your cock inside me, just wrecking my cunt, until I can’t take it anymore.” Eddie grabs you by the throat, letting his hand fall to your breasts and stomach as you fuck yourself on his fingers. “Oh, please, please, please!”
“Are you gonna cum? God, you’re having so much fun right now, you can’t even speak. Answer me, baby.” He cooes, the tip of his cock pressing against the sore cheek of your ass.
You screw your eyes shut, zeroing in on the pulsing pressure in your cunt. “Y-Yes! If you keep — if you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna…”
“No, you aren’t. You’re not gonna cum for me just yet.”
“But…”
“Nu-uh, no, no cumming.” Eddie’s mouth hovers over your ear. “Good girls cum when they're supposed to. Don’t change up on me now, Y/N. You’ve been doing so well.”
“I’m s-sorry, I can’t… can’t hold it…” You let out a strangled grunt when his fingers dig into your pulse points, fully constricting your airway as he hooks an arm around your stomach and pulls you to his chest. “Eddie, please. Wanna — wanna cum for you, just this once, an exception…”
“An exception? Sweetheart, I don’t even know you.” His eyes nearly roll back into his skull when your ass desperately grinds against him, your hand coming to rest back on his thigh as he subconsciously rocks against your shivering frame. “Fuck, but I guess I-I can try to get to know you, make it worth my while… an exception, tonight only. S’okay, Y/N. You can cum for me. Cum all you want, as hard as you need to.”
As soon as your thighs quiver around his hand, he lets go of your throat, using his now-free one to circle over your clit. You hadn’t even realized he’d been using three fingers to fuck your cunt — shit, when did that ever happen?
His mouth is hot against the slope of your shoulder, mirroring your mewls as you come undone all over his rings and knuckles. The heavy silver drips with your juices, slick coating the soft heel of his palm and the shuddering tip of Eddie’s aching cock. Your face is glazed over, chest rising and falling deeply as you collapse over the edge of the table in pure bliss.
“Fuck… fuck, that was so… good…” Eddie turns you in your hands, hoisting you up on the surface and barely giving you time to recover before you feel something slip between your folds. “Oh!” His thick head splits you open, a satisfying sting running through your body as he bottoms out and molds himself against your front. “E-Eddie!”
“I’m sorry. I know, I know it’s a lot for you, sweetheart…” He cups his hand over your mouth, muffling your sobs as he stills inside you. “Feels good though, yeah? Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ me — holy shit, baby. Is this what you wanted? Is this your — your definition of Halloween tradition… getting your pussy filled up with my cock? You love it. You fucking love it, I can tell. I just couldn’t wait to have you… and it’s everything I-I could’ve ever dreamed of.”
“S’big, s’too big, Eds…”
“Hey, I got you…” He whispers, cradling your jaw in his palm. His warm, big eyes meet yours, a comforting brown lulling you into a trance as he thumbs at your lip. He leans in to kiss you, mouth slow and patient against yours as you gasp into him. “Gonna t-take care of you, promise. You’re gonna look so… so fucking hot with my… cum just drippin’ out…”
Eddie jerks his cock into you, before thrusting the rest of his length inside without forewarning. You cry out, vision blurring as he picks your witch hat off of the empty bench and places it on your head. “There we go, little witch… scream all you want, cry all you want… they won’t h-hear you…” Eddie pants out, purring as you reach under his shirt and run your nails down his toned stomach. “Not when they’re — fuck, blasting that awful fucking music…
“E-Eddie! Holy f-fucking shit!”
“Oh, such a shame they won’t hear all the pretty noises we make together.”
Your legs wrap around his hips, boots digging into the fabric of his cape as he fucks you hard into the creaking table. He rests his forehead to yours, nudging your nose with a sudden and sweet tenderness that has your walls fluttering around his prick.
Eddie Munson is ruthlessly fucking you in the forest.
And he’s fucking you hard.
Your hat is falling into your face. His lean arms are the only thing keeping you upright, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and pornographic moans filling the woodsy atmosphere. His cock pounds into your g-spot over and over again, thrusts sloppy and amateur as Eddie rests your ankles onto his shoulders for better access to your cunt.
Sure, you got up to bad things on Halloween… but this? This certainly takes the cake.
It’s absolute filth — with his long hair sticking to your sweaty skin, the stench of wet soil fighting Eddie’s musky cologne, the slick between your thighs as you cum for a second time around his length, milking him to his very-much-needed orgasm.
You can’t tell if it’s a grunt or a sob or a moan, but Eddie buries the noises against your tender neck, hips bucking lazily as he finally releases his spill into your pussy. He stutters and pulsates inside you, the angry head of his cock throbbing as he comes down from his high.
“Jesus, M-Mary, and Ozzy…” Eddie sighs out, whimpering while you lay back against the table and wipe the runny mascara away from your eyes. His own eyeliner is smudged too — almost a little too racoon-y for his liking — but it doesn’t matter.
Doesn’t matter when his cum is seeping out of your cunt and onto the wooden tabletop beneath you. Doesn’t matter when he watches you physically shake from your orgasm and takes in the sight of your bloodied knees.
Definitely doesn’t matter when you glance down at him and give him the prettiest fucked-out smile he’s ever seen.
Yeah, that’s for sure staying ingrained in his head.
“Fucking hell.” You breathe out, biting the nail of your thumb as Eddie gently nudges his seed back into your pussy with his fingers, obviously distracted. “Hey.”
How could he make such a dirty act seem absolutely innocent?
He shyly returns the grin, pulling his boxers and jeans up before he’s wrestling with the chains around his belt buckle. “Hey, you.”
“Help me up?” You stick your palm out, mirroring the same manner of the handshake you had given him in your first twenty seconds of speaking to each other. Eddie effortlessly pulls you off of the table, keeping a cautious arm around your waist when your legs start to wobble beneath you. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
You take note of the way his nose lingers by the top of your head, inhaling your scent with a sudden yearning that makes your heart quicken when you bump against his chest.
Awkward clearings of throats, shy double takes and silent gazes at each other as you fix your wild appearances. Eddie’s unsure of what to say — goodbye? Farewell? Thank you? See you again?
God, would it be so lame if he wanted the last option?
But you beat him to it, syllables nervously strung together as you toy with his devil-horn headband in your hands. “Well, you, um, definitely lived up to tradition.”
“Did I now? Honestly just wondering how no one heard us.”
“Come on, it’s Halloween night in the middle of a haunted forest.” You blink up at him, fixing the rim of your witch hat as he peers down at you. “Have you ever seen a horror movie? You never go towards the screaming. It’s like the number one, all-time logical rule.”
Eddie waves a hand around, laughing comfortably at your presence of lightheartedness. “Oh, yeah. Never. For sure.” He huffs, glancing at his shoes before locking onto your soft eyes. His brain haywires at the sight of your doting expression, a contrast to the filthy-mouthed girl he had just been dealing with earlier. “Never.”
Snap out of it.
You clear your throat, dusting the front of your dress off as Eddie squares his shoulders and straightens his back. “So… then… I guess…”
He points at the dirt path leading to the party. “Right…”
“I’ll…”
“See you around?” He coughs out in a hopeful tone.
You don’t answer, just slowly stride past him with crunchy footsteps and a youthful smirk.
Then you’re suddenly turning on your heels and barrelling back to him, a warm hand cupping his jaw as you press a chaste kiss to his cheekbone. Eddie savors the moment, refusing to shut his eyes when you reach up on your tippy-toes and slip his horned headband back onto his mess of curls.
He looks at you as if you’ve just killed him. “You’re really something, you know that?”
Your stomach flutters. “Look, I enjoyed… tonight. And I… if ever you… you wanted to continue tradition…”
“Yeah?” He raises a brow.
“I mean, like… it doesn’t have to be yearly and it doesn’t have to be Halloween, but I…” You take a deep breath, letting your fingers trail down his jaw before your hand falls limp at your side. “I enjoyed. That’s it. And whenever you feel a bit… festive…” You exhale loudly, glancing away as Eddie tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just come looking for me.”
You’re being absolutely serious with him.
“Okay.”
“Good.” You turn back and make a beeline for the party, unable to hide the blossoming smile on your face when you hear the familiar hymn of Eddie’s voice abruptly calling out your name. “Yes?”
A glimmering object is tossed in your direction, landing in your palms as you instinctively reach out to catch it.
His lighter.
“Keep it. It’s all yours.”
Somehow, your grin widens even more. “I’ll see you around, then.”
Maybe Eddie Munson is a Halloween kind-of-guy. So, fuck Valentine’s, because he could get used to this. Used to you. Either way, he’s glad that he’s still got more game than Jeff and Gareth — not that he seriously doubted it in the first place, but the assurance is there.
Turns out the sexy, red gothic devil worked out for him in the end, anyways.
“See you around, little witch.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#stranger things#stranger things x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things imagine#stranger things oneshot
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Okay! The Gilear plush has arrived. This is my best attempt at all of his lines. Two have been unintelligible to me, and several are pretty long and fast which made it hard to follow.
My search history is.. hospitals near me, foot stuck in object, head stuck in object
You're low, he's low, It's Gilear's day baby!*
A guy on the street kicked me in the nuts as hard he could
I don't like "lunchlad"
Help me to understand what I have done to deserve this
My horoscope says "today is a good day to die motherfucker"
I ate a quick cup of yogurt on the way over here to bolster my spirits after I changed, I'm ever so sorry
What do you mean "When" life gives you lemons
I went to apply for the guidance counselor position but I was usurped by a drug dealing werewolf named Jawbone
In my haste to put the armor on I buckled the leg plate and think I clipped the tip of my penis against one of the leg plates and Everytime I move it feels like it might fall off so I ASSURE you demon I have no pride to speak of!
In highschool I was voted "Most Likely To Get Pushed Out Of A Tree"
My car was repossessed by the ride share app that I was working for
It's actually a good thing that no one came to my birthday party because the bounce house flooded and was swept out to sea
I just discovered that *all* of my emails have been going to everyone's spam
Unfortunately I have been banned from that hot air balloon service not because of anything that happened to me in particular but the guys who run it just sort of know my whole deal
Mmm this yogurt tastes like *potatoes*
I asked the woman at Home Depot why my plants kept dying and she said it seemed like they were reaching away from the sun
I've found out recently that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew because a pipe in my bedroom is leaking and I've developed a fungal infection in my foot which I didn't know was possible for elves to get
I don't think that I've ever "Peaked" in that we started neutral and have been going downhill ever since
I am currently trapped in a storm drain. The bottom half of me is above the ground, the other is below
Another Own Goal for Gilear Faeth, yes
Everyone knows you eat 7 spiders in your sleep every year, but I have a bunch coming into me the backway
My sandcastle I'm afraid was destroyed, as I was about to finish it, the tide came in and with it a man holding a bazooka who shot me and killed me
I know you're not going to believe this but Ive just been kicked by a snake
I found out the hard way that people can legally reject status as an emergency contact
The title of my autobiography is going to be Gilear Faeth: Please Stop
On my way here I was carrying a large bowl of Italian wedding soup which shattered on the ground in front of me and several of the small pasta balls rolled through the cracks and alerted vermin to my presence. I've since learned after a trip to the hospital I am deathly allergic to the sting of millipedes which is a way of me saying I need someone to come down to the hospital and pay for this. There is a doctor holding a gun to my head and now that I think about it this clinic is in the back of a storage unit and I think have gone to the wrong place
he said and I quote "he'd stomp my goon ass" if I ever got on his bus again
Gorthalax it was very nice to meet you, you've made a cuckold of me
We're the throw up boys!*
I've been informed that the brownies I consumed were laced with cannabis and rat poison
I am completely unprepared for the perils ahead and am deeply frightened, I'll go get the coffee
A gorilla monster punched me so hard in the back of the head I died
Today I have been hit by 3 scooters
Everytime you squeeze my hand it breaks several small bones
My imaginary friend as a child ghosted me because he said I was too depressing
Do you want me to go back? I warn you, it will break me
Can I interest you in an herbal soda? You must understand I am an intern at a ponzi scheme*
When I go to sleep at night I dream of a world where I might be able to walk through a field without stepping on a rake or gopher hole
If anyone needs me... I will be surprised.
If it wasn't for bad luck, Id have no luck is both true and what was written upon the billboard I crashed through
I wonder if any of these will feature in Junior year 👀
*Thanks to @cappa-cappa for telling me the lines I wasn't able to make out!!
#d20#dimension 20#naddpod#bahumia#brian murphy#emily axford#brennan lee mulligan#gilear faeth#siobhan thompson#lou wilson#ally beardsley#dropout#spire#fantasy high#fantasy high freshman year#fantasy high sophomore year#fantasy high junior year
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𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
note: the idea for this came up out of the blue and I was encouraged to write it so here you go. the premise is simple: what picture of your significant other do you have as your lock screen? as always, I hope y'all enjoy it!
And now we have the sequel!
Captain John Price - About as sickeningly sweet vanilla as you can get. Your lock screen is a picture of him geared up, signature hat on, holding a lit cigar, and smiling at the camera like he won the lottery. You always told him his smile was radiant. Seeing him smile makes your day.
Gaz - Your lock screen is a picture of him hard at work. He's reading something and boy, is he concentrating hard. He doesn't believe you when you tell him that he scrunches his nose up while he's thinking. Well, now you have proof.
Soap - You swoon every time your phone lights up. It's a photo of him flexing one arm, smiling, and winking into the camera. You managed to get him after he finished working out and getting those gains. You also may or may not have jumped his bones right after taking said pic. Gah, you fucking love this man...
Ghost - LMAO. So you were trying to be discreet about it (emphasis on the word trying) and capture Ghost just standing there, gun in his hands, minding his business. Menacingly. Motherfucker got your ass because just as soon as you pressed the button, he looked right at you. So now you have a picture of Ghost standing there, gun in hand, minding his business and glaring staring at you. Menacingly. Reactions to your lock screen are either "Holy shit, who the FUCK is that?" or "Wow, he looks cool." You can only sigh adoringly every time you see it. That's Babygurl for you.
Alejandro Thee Stallion - You have a picture of him running a hand through his hair with his eyes closed. No, it isn't intentional; he was actually scratching his head. BUT, it was just the perfect moment and hell yeah, you rejoiced when you got it! He looks modelesque and orgasmic in it. You showed it to Rudy and now Alejandro is wondering why Rudy looks like he wants to laugh every time he sees him.
Rudy - It's actually a picture of you and him together being all cute and shit. And that actually wasn't your first choice. It was originally a picture of him knocked the hell out, bundled up in his favorite blanket, and having the best nap of his life. He looks so boyishly cute when he sleeps. Rudy actually had to put on the puppy dog eyes so you wouldn't make that your lock screen because he's had that blanket as long as he's known Alejandro (who has also seen said blanket) and apparently there's a betting pool going around in Los Vaqueros around the fact that Rudy has yet to get rid of it. It's a long story.
König - You actually have a picture of him sitting down against a wall, arms on his knees looking cool as a cucumber. He's really just chillin', taking in the atmosphere, and staring into space. Looks badass doing it, too. His eyes are pretty entrancing and the picture really puts into perspective how tall König is because he absolutely does not look it when he's sitting down. You also realized that he likes to make himself comfortable in confined spaces. Huh. Wonder if he's aware of that, too. He caught a glimpse of your lock screen by accident and whether you know it or not, he's flattered that he's the first thing you see when you look at your phone.
Phillip Graves - You got a picture of him doing his best Zoolander impression (Blue Steel, y'all) because you forgot to turn the flash off. Whoops. Don't you dare show that to the rest of Shadow Company. Spoiler Alert: You... kinda-sorta-really do. Whoops.
Valeria Garza - One word. Badass. She looks like a fucking badass on your lock screen. Those toned arms and tattoos are out for the world to see. Windswept tresses. And she's smirking at you, too? Oh, baby! You're falling in love all over again.
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#alejandro vargas#rodolfo rudy parra#konig#könig#phillip graves#valeria garza#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x reader#los vaqueros#task force 141#just 141 things.#ride 'em cowboy!
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Reader who’s turned on by Matt’s little cowboy act!!!
Save A Horse
Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader
Synopsis: Matt’s little cowboy accent gets Y/N going, and he takes notice to it. He takes matters into his own hands🐎
Warnings⚠️: Suggestive at parts, but no actual sex in this one🫡
Song for the imagine: Wicked Game- Chris Isaak
The world was on fire and no one
could save me but you
It’s strange what desire make foolish people do
I’d never dream, that I’d meet somebody like you
At first it started as a joke, Matt's stupid little country accent. I found it funny and cute in the beginning, but now it made my cheeks flush and my brain race with inappropriate thoughts.
I never told him this because that was embarrassing. He literally did the weird voices for his brothers and to make the viewers laugh. But here I was getting all hot and bothered by it….I needed to get a grip
He started to do the accent more once he realized my head would perk up and a sheepish smile would grow on my face. I just figured he thought I liked it and found it funny. I mean I did, but these dirty ass horny thoughts would pop into my head.
Right now I was at their house sitting on the couch with them as we scrolled on our phones, and talked here and there. I kept hearing weird cowboy videos and country songs coming from Matt’s phone. Was he really taking this country act serious? I laughed to myself at his foolishness
“Matt what the fuck are you watching” Chris asked him
“Cowboy videos….these guys are cool as fuck” he said as his eyes were glued to his phone
“Matt is this going to be your new lifestyle?” I asked him laughing
“Would you like that?” He asked me finally looking at me
I felt my cheeks grow hot at this question and my throat began to run dry
“What? What do you mean” I said stifling out a laugh
“Like eventually if we move to like the countryside and have like a farm and horses and shit” he said
Why did I think he meant something else? Lord get your head out of the gutter Y/N….
“Ohhh uh yeah that would be cool. It would be very different, but I’d like it” I said smiling at him
“And then we can get horses, and hay and a tractor” he said doing the country accent
“Shut the fuck up with the accent” Nick said smacking his brother
“Heyyy be nice I like it” I said to Nick
“This motherfucker won’t let it go like I’m tired of hearing country boy Matt” Nick said rolling his eyes at Matt
“See my lady loves it” he said doing the accent
I felt myself fighting a smile and a blush on my face
“Yeah she’s smiling and blushing like a freak” Chris said
“Fuck off” I said kicking him
“What can I say my woman has great taste” he said winking at me
A few days had passed and Matt did the accent here and there. I was fighting myself not to just jump his bones anytime I heard him.
I was laying in his bed when I heard him come out of the bathroom and walk into his room. Immediately looking up my jaw dropped.
Matt had a plaid shirt on with his chest exposed, a cowboy hat on and denim jeans that fit him just write. My throat ran dry and I felt my pupils dilate
“Matt what is this?” I said sitting up
“I know how much you love cowboys…I figured I try something out for you” he said shutting his door behind him
“Oh really?” I said scooching off his bed
“I see the way you squirm when I do the accent, and I’ve seen the TikTok’s you reposted….I turn you on as a cowboy” he said biting his lip
“What….I do not” I said avoiding eye contact
“You don’t?” He said tilting his head and looking at me
“No I don’t” I said
“Mmm your body language tells me otherwise and so does the blush on your face” he said walking over to me
“Okay fine, maybe I find it hot” I said rolling my eyes
“I know you do baby” he said pulling me in by my waist
“Matt” I whined out
“Just teasing you” he said rubbing his hands up my sides
“That’s not nice” I said looking up at him
He pouted at me before pulling me in smashing our lips together. A much needed make out happening. Our teeth clashing together and our tongues fighting for dominance as we fought to breathe.
He slowly began to kiss down my neck causing me to moan out at the feeling.
Matt pulled away to take his cowboy hat off, and I ran my hands up his chest and wrapped my hands over his neck pulling him back into me
Our tongues once again fighting for dominance. His hands running down my back and squeezing my ass before bru bringing them back up to squeeze my breast
“Oh Matt” I sighed
“I know baby, I know” he said kissing down my jawline and to my neck again
I turned us around and laid him down on the bed as I straddled him running my hands up his torso and grinding down on him.
“Just like that baby” he moaned out helping me grind down on him
I slid my shirt off and leaned back down to kiss his neck and chest, his low pants sending me to the moon and back.
“You know what they say, save a horse, ride a cowboy” I said leaning back to remove my bra
“Today is my lucky day. I’m a cowboy and I love when you ride me” he said biting his bottom lip and running his hands up to my breast to squeeze them
I melted into his touch allowing my head to roll back. Matt pulled me down towards him by my neck and continued to kiss me as I grinded on him
Matt lifted up slightly to remove his flannel when we heard the front door open
“Were backkkk where yall at” Chris yelled
“Are you kidding me” Matt said his face dropping
“Ughhh why” I said laughing and leaning my forehead on Matt’s forehead as I laughed
“I guess we’ll continue this later” he said letting out a sigh
“I guess so my love” I said slipping off of him to put my bra and shirt back on
Later that night his brothers left again, and we sure did take care of business. The save a horse ride, a cowboy had nothing on me. Matt was spent by the time we were done.
I loved cowboy Matt….
The End
I hope you guys enjoyed this one. I felt ehh about it, but also wasn’t too sure what to write for this😭😭. Love yall tho 🤭🖤🖤
-J💅🏽
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Dollhouse
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
half-vampire!Sungchan x Vampire Hunter!Reader (she/her; femme presenting)
Genre: Angst, dark fantasy
WC: 6.5k
Synopsis: You, an elite vampire hunter, have been assigned to take down the son of the infamous vampire, the puppeteer.
TW PLEASE READ: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! +18 ONLY. Excessive swearing, obsessive behaviors, stalking, a lot of gore, mentions of bullying, emotional abuse, psychological abuse, murder, suggestive/ sexual themes, dubcon heavily implied, violence/ threatened violence, death of family. Please proceed with caution.
I do not believe that any person written into this fic or any of my fics acts at all like these characters here. Their real life counterparts are just my inspiration and are utilized as actors for the story. No ill will is intended.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ * ੈ✩‧₊˚｡⋆｡ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ﾟ☾
You were going to get fired.
You felt it in your bones. Your leg wouldn’t stop fidgeting as you sat in Irene’s office, the crest of the organization looming over you making you feel small.
Irene walked in, her face cold as stone as she threw a file in front of you before she sat on her chair, “this is your new job.”
You blinked, “what?”
“Initially, I was going to give it to Seulgi and put you on probation-.”
“I killed the vampire cleanly and quickly-.”
“And in front of another human,” Irene cut you off before pinching the bridge of her nose, “look. An insider told us that you would work best for this job, and,” she sighed before opening the manilla folder, “I think they’re right. The puppeteer has been missing for months after we had finally devised a plan to take the motherfucker out.”
You squinted as you looked over the carefully collected information before you asked, “how much time do I have?”
“Not a lot, so hurry up.”
-----------
The library was warm and inviting. It was a small public library that matched the small town it was nestled in. Even when agents were sent weeks ago, they all agreed- it was entirely unremarkable, which made him an even stranger anomaly. The town itself was often forgotten on maps and glossed over, but as you entered the library, you were in awe of the coziness.
It was almost too easy to find out everything about him. Graduated from community college in library sciences. No one had a single mean thing to say about him… ever. Apparently he hadn’t been in a long term relationship in years either. Your angle had written itself to ensnare him without much help from anyone else in the organization.
You sauntered in slowly, your heels muffled by the dusty carpet as you slowly approached the center table where he sat. You had on a loose fitting dress that stopped at your calves, a low cut top that was still mildly conservative, your dark sunglasses, and your freshly done hair wrapped in a silk bandana.
You found it difficult to hold back your laughter as he locked eyes with you. He was processing a few returned books when he dropped his stamp to fully stare at you. You gave yourself permission to smirk once you made it to the desk, leaning against it to allow him to take full stock of you. His big brown eyes were scanning over every part of you, and by the tremble of his jaw you could tell he was fully trying to hold himself back.
"Hi sir, could you help me out?" your voice was low, and you watched as his dropped jaw slowly lifted. He blinked quickly, looking between your chest and lips before he cleared his throat and looked away, his ears now an embarrassing shade of red. The council had perfectly planned every minute detail down to the final strand of hair, and he was reacting even more deliciously than anticipated.
It was almost too easy how much he was falling like putty in your hands.
"O-Of... of course! How can I help, miss?"
You removed your sunglasses and placed your hand on his chest where his name tag sat.
"Well... Sungchan," you smiled, tracing your fingers over his name before placing them back to your side, "I'm currently working on a project for a research course."
You began spouting off on a topic you knew Sungchan was absolutely fascinated by. The Vampire Hunter Council had done extensive research on the half-human bastard off-spring of the missing high profile leader of the Vampires. The puppeteer’s son’s eyes were still rounded, hanging onto every word coming out from between your glossy lips as you spoke.
After you finished, there was a pause, and then, "you're perfect."
"I'm sorry?" you pretended to not hear his mutter as you batted your eyelashes at him. He was half-vampire, but as far as you could tell either his vampiric side was fully dormant or barely did much- there were no reports of missing humans in the area, didn’t seem to have his father’s gifts, he was not nocturnal, and didn't bare any fangs.
You almost felt bad about having to kill him.
Even if Sungchan didn't know his monster of a father, it was still an absolute shame to vampires to have your offspring be murdered, and you planned to bring Sungchan's head to the feet of the Puppeteer. At least, that’s the plan. You’ll have to lob Sungchan’s head off after using him as bait to bring the puppeteer out from hiding.
Sungchan had led you to the back of the library, his large hands holding several books and tapes for you.
“You seem to know a lot… are you busy later? I would love to pick your brain,” You were nearly purring, your hands squeezing his forearm. Cold. Not as cold as other vampires you’ve suckered into thinking you’re weak before killing them, but still colder than an average human. Was this the only way his vampiric side showed?
“No! I mean… I’m not I…” Sungchan was sputtering out now, his free hand pushing up his glasses. “I- I would love to help you.”
“Hm… are those prescriptions?” You asked, your fingers moving to tap the bridge of his glasses and watch his breathing hitch. Vampires typically had enhanced vision, and while he was only half-human, none of his medical records showed that he had any possible visual impairments.
“N-no they’re for the uh… blue light…” his muttered, clearly flustered. After he led you back to the front desk he began typing away at the computer before nervously looking back up. "Do you have your library card?"
Before you left the vampire hunters council headquarters, you were given every bit of fake identification you would need and this indeed included a library card.
"I... I've never seen you around here before," he was clearly racking his head to remember you as he continued the check out process. He had read off your fake name, and you watched him mutter it to himself to commit it to memory.
"I got it somewhere else in the county," you fibbed, "so. I'll see you at the diner at 9?"
"Y-yes, absolutely."
_______________
You arrived at 9:12pm.
Sungchan sat in the corner in a small red booth with a bouquet of flowers, twiddling his thumbs upon your entrance. There were only three other patrons at the small diner, all at the counter with their backs to you as they stared up at the old television set playing a hockey game.
According to your research, Sungchan had gone on a few dates with a few people he went to the local high school with- so between his bashfulness, innocence, and likely exhaustion with his small dating pool, his eagerness to see you made sense. It was also something you and the rest of the vampire hunters council were banking on. You needed him to be obsessed with you- to post you online, for everyone in town to see you with the librarian, and allow this information to trickle up to his father. You were a top level hunter and were well hated enough by Vampires that this would not be overlooked- especially not by the Puppeteer.
"You look so handsome," you complimented, sitting across from the nervous young man. You were late on purpose- aiming to put him more on edge. You were in a tight mini dress and a pair of combat boots. A combination in your daily life you wouldn’t normally pick, but from his internet history seemed to be outfit pieces he really loved on women.
“Th-Thank you,” he then shoved the bouquet towards you, “these are for you.”
“Roses,” you hummed, staring down at the perfectly red petals, “you’re so sweet, thank you.”
“Um s-so roses are a great way to convey joy, friendship… passion,” he scratched the back of his neck bashfully. “They’re beautiful and uh… reminded me of you.”
“Roses are my favorite… are you a mind reader Sungchan?” you playfully reached across the table and tapped his shoulder. Lying was easier when you got to mix in the truth. Roses were your favorite, but they were also a part of the crest of the Vampiric Hunters for their scent is supposed to keep vampires at bay.
It seemed to also be another way that Sungchan’s vampiric side didn’t bare its teeth.
Sungchan was sickly sweet. As the weeks passed, each time you would go on a date he would bring either flowers, a book regarding your paper, or a poem he had written for you.
You were inside the motel you were crashing at, recounting this to the president of the hunters.
“Has anyone heard from the puppeteer?” you asked. A part of you was starting to genuinely feel guilty- Sungchan was so human. He ate human food, lounged in the sun, and even seemed to have a heartbeat.
You had considered that his vampiric powers had simply never awoken, and that they never would. This was highly uncommon in vampire hybrids, but genetics were fickle, so Sungchan wouldn’t be an exception if he really just seemed fully human despite having a vampire dad.
“No, but it seems like he’s still giving orders through his lackeys. There was even a small scourge of his puppets tearing up a small town,” Irene recounted, “Remember to keep him sweet on you.”
“Did I not read to you this latest poem? The last stanza was talking about how he wants to fuck me and keep me with him forever.”
“Wow, that’s a little creepy… and maybe sweet?”
“His face was all red when I teased him about it.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t fucked him yet.”
“I have to kill him, Irene.”
“That has never stopped you before,” she noted. Irene was right of course. Vampires tended to be overly sexual creatures, so seducing them often led to placing them in more vulnerable positions that could allow you to take advantage of them.
“Fair,” you muttered, glancing out the window to see the same person who walks their dog at this time every night passing the street across the motel. This town was sleepy and boring, but it was almost odd how scheduled everyone was. No car accidents ever, the same groupings of people throughout town all in the same places. Static.
After you hung up with Irene, you moved across the room to the stack of books you checked out from the library all those weeks ago. They were due soon, and you were planning to swing by the library to drop them off with Sungchan while also sweet talking him with stupid facts you had picked up.
You flitted through the last book you hadn’t opened yet and paused. Crammed in between a few pages was a tightly folded note. Curious, you unraveled it. In extremely messy handwriting and covering the entire sheet was one sentence.
Write forever until I die. Write forever until I die. Write forever until I die.
You squinted and scoffed. Likely it was a kid in detention that was assigned to write out whatever was on the board and instead did this as a weird joke. Without much thought you tossed it into the trash.
Still. You had a shiver run down your spine. Wrapping yourself up in a coat, and grabbing the ice bucket you stepped out of your room. Maybe a walk around the motel would make you feel better about having to kill the kid who didn’t ask to be born.
The ice machine sat in the lobby and was usually only manned by the same two people who would hardly look up from their books. You filled it up and looked back over to see the young man again reading Slaughter-house five.
“Yknow, Vonnegut has written other books,” you joked. The young man flinched, his grip tightening on the book to a point that his knuckles were white. Yet, he didn’t speak or react in any other way. You frowned, and returned to your room.
“Do you like the stars?” Sungchan had asked the following night as you helped him close up at the library.
“Hm, they are pretty, yes,” you hummed, sitting on the edge of the desk. Just like the other nights you had helped Sungchan, the same patrons who seemed to be there every night, left at the same time in the same fashion, all with the same smile and wave to the librarian as they exited.
“I… Do you wanna go into my truck and look at them?” he asked, and you noted he was avoiding your gaze as the red tint on his ears shone.
“I’m a lady, Sungchan,” you pouted, watching as he seemed to jump, “I hope you’re not… expecting anything.”
He was so easy to fluster. It wasn’t even just to keep him obsessed with you at this point- it was because you found it downright exciting. He was so cute as he jumped up from his seat.
“I would never expect anything from you that you don’t want.”
Sungchan was soft and sweet. Your job as a hunter didn’t allow for much dating outside of your profession, and most other hunters were too preoccupied to give romance much attention. Every minute you spent with Sungchan gave you the delusion that you could leave the life of being a hunter and runaway together. You could protect him, and be happy. But then, you were reminded of the oath you gave, your few friendships, and the fact that you have been lying to Sungchan, and you’re brought back down to earth.
You laid on the trunk bed with Sungchan. He drove out a few miles to empty farmland and covered the trunk bed in pillows and blankets. The stars shone bright in the sky, and you looked up to see Sungchan staring up with a smile on his face. He was beautiful with stars reflecting themselves in his eyes.
“My Mom used to take me out here all the time,” he started, his voice a whisper. “I would get bullied a lot in school, so on the weekends when all of the other kids would hang out, my mom would bring me out here and tell me stories.”
“I’m sorry kids were so cruel to you,” you were sincere, squeezing his arm as you laid on his chest, “do… you have any favorite stories? I’d love to hear them.”
“It’s okay- I got to be the bigger person in the end,” you swear you could hear a smirk, but you were too comfortable to check, “but stories… well. She would always tell me this one story whenever I was really down.”
He cleared his throat, kissed the top of your head, and started working from his memory, “there was once a sickly, meek child. He had a hard time gathering his breath, and struggled to keep up with other kids his age. Running was especially a challenge, and his legs would often give out as his peers would run off, laughing at him. He was clumsy, and his limbs were so stiff and wooden. He began to be known as the puppet because of this. Between the torture of the other children, and the torture of his own body, the boy fell deathly ill. The local doctor told the boy’s mother that her son only had a few hours left at best- but, if she gave her own life, her son could live forever.”
Sungchan paused, and you could hear him swallow thickly before continuing, “the mother begged for there to be another way. It was just her and her boy- while her son could live forever, how was he going to grow fully into a capable young man without a guiding hand? The doctor assured the mother though, that the son wouldn’t be alone. He will create a new family of his own one day.”
“And so, the boy was not only given the gift of eternal life, but also another, even more special gift,” he hummed a bit then, “can you take a guess?”
There was a chill that raced down your spine. You sat your chin on his chest, meeting his eyes. You absolutely could take a guess- a real guess, but you decided to continue playing dumb, “hmmm, flying? So he could fly far away from the bullies?”
Sungchan chuckled before he kissed the tip of your nose, “no, but that’s a great guess. The boy was able to control the minds of those bullies, so they could never be cruel to anyone ever again.”
“The puppet became the puppeteer,” you froze, unable to stop yourself. His mother presented this story, and Sungchan had it fully memorized without realizing that the puppeteer was his own father.
“Yeah,” Sungchan was quiet before he met your gaze. “I know you won’t be here forever, but I wish you could stay. I want to know everything about you. Did your parents tell you stories at night?”
“My parents died when I was very young,” you confessed, “they were killed in a home invasion.”
This was partially the truth. Your parents were killed in a home invasion of a pair of twin vampires who slaughtered them mercilessly. You were in the room next door when it happened, hiding under the bed until it was over. The hunters arrived hours later, and you were then adopted into their ranks.
“I’m… I’m so sorry. That’s not fair,” he squeezed you closely and you shrugged.
“Can’t change the past,” you shrugged, forcing a smile.
Despite your own hesitations, you gave in to Sungchan’s begging, and stayed the night at his place. You couldn’t sleep though, and after you were sure he was knocked out, you stepped outside to the back of the apartment complex to call your closest friend.
“Seulgi… he’s a human,” you whisper cried. The back of Sungchan’s apartment complex held a small forest, and seemed to absorb any bit of light the complex offered.
“And you’re sure he’s not manipulating you?”
“You know I can always spot that shit. Remember the orphanage?”
“Vampires turning young children into vampires so they could more easily kidnap humans… you spotted it faster than Irene did,” Seulgi conceited. There was a rustle in the trees and you froze. Your small wooden stake was always hidden somewhere on your person, this time in the lining of your jacket.
“It’s your job, though. Think of the lives you’ll save by bringing the puppeteer out of the shadows.”
“I’ve gotta go,” you hung up, shoving your phone back into your pocket and sliding out the stake. The forest was quiet, and for a moment you thought you imagined it.
Then, a hand holding a clean white napkin appeared before the rest of their body followed.
“I’m not here to attack, just have a chat,” Yuta had a mischievous grin as he skipped out from the forest and towards you. Yuta was a five hundred year old vampire who had climbed the Royal ranks due to his ability to game information. He was never a liar, but just someone who knew how to use knowledge to his advantage.
“You miss me?” You taunted, arms crossed.
“Of course,” he simpered, now fully in your view as the lighting coated him. He was inhumanely handsome, which was to be expected. “However, that’s not why I’m here.”
“And why are you here? Yknow, most people drive past this tiny little town and yet…” you let your voice trail off, an eyebrow raised as you studied his features.
“I’m one of the few people that know about Sungchan, the puppeteer has kept his half-human son under wraps for a while. How did the hunters find him?”
“Ah, so you want information from me?” You chuckled at his nerve.
“Hm, I think we can exchange actually,” he raised his eyebrow, and your eyes widened instinctually. Now this was very appealing. “You see, I pop in every few months to see how the young man is doing. Check him out from a far. Then, I write out a report, and give it to his dear old daddy.”
“Why would you tell me where he is?”
“Hm, perhaps I have my own ulterior motives for leading a top hunter directly to him,” Yuta then took out an envelope from his shirt pocket. “Tell me our leak, and I’ll tell you what you want.”
“It wasn’t a leak,” you rolled your eyes, “Sungchan did one of those family ancestry online dna things. We utilized it see if there was any human-vampire matches… he just popped up one day.”
“God, is there no such thing as data privacy anymore?” Yuta sucked his fangs before extending the envelope towards you. “I hope you are prepared to face the true wrath of the puppeteer.”
You slid back upstairs after a short while, the envelope tucked into your jacket.
——-
Yuta was a fucking liar. The address made no sense- it was clearly just Sungchan’s apartment. You wanted to rip your hair out- how could you be so stupid?
While Sungchan was at work you looked through every crevice of his place, and the only off putting thing you could find was his high school yearbook. God, the kids were so cruel to him. Sungchan couldn’t hurt a damn fly now as a fully grown man, let alone defend himself against the relentless bullies he faced.
You were hitting a dead end. No other vampires had made their way to the town since Yuta a month ago, Sungchan had completely become infatuated with you, and you were becoming too close to the half-breed.
One night, after he returned from work, you bought a bottle of wine. You had hoped potentially getting him a little drunk could coax any memory of his father out. He had spoken at length about how great his mother was, but shrugged off any prodding you made about his dad. It didn’t help that Irene was breathing down your neck, and Seulgi was struggling to keep her at bay.
“It’s not too strong, is it? I’m not good with alcohol,” He giggled as he helped you uncork the bottle.
“It’s not strong,” you lied as he took out two untouched wine glasses from the cabinet.
“Oh, can you grab me my phone? I left it in the bathroom,” he smiled. Without a second thought, you maneuvered to the bathroom to take it off the counter. While you still on occasion stayed at the motel, Sungchan was incredibly needy. And since your job was to keep him interested in you, you felt inclined to bend to his will, especially when he didn’t care about anything else you did. You still hadn’t even slept with him yet, much to Seulgi’s and your own surprise.
No messages on Sungchan’s phone, or calls, as per usual. You knew he didn’t have a ton of friends or anything, but it was still… weird. No one else in town spoke to you unless it was more than a word and you initiated it. Everything here had felt fake, but without any real reason to be suspicious, you couldn’t really share your concerns. A town full of people, and yet it still felt empty to you.
Seulgi was busy keeping Irene from slashing your throat, so your own phone has been dull as of late. Maybe Sungchan just sincerely didn’t use his phone, ever, unless it was to speak to you.
“Here, Sungie,” you placed it on the counter, and took the drink he handed off to you. You took a large sip and frowned slightly to yourself.
“Everything okay?” He tilted his head, his beautiful brown eyes filled with concern.
“No I guess I just left the wine under the sun for too long,” you reason, taking another sip. It was a little funky, as if the wine had soured.
“Ah, maybe. All wine tastes the same to me,” he took a sip of his own, and you noticed the small dimple that formed and disappeared.
“What are you ssssmiling about?” You asked. Your words came out more slurred than you’d like. You were a strong drinker, but you also haven’t been drinking as much lately. Maybe that’s why the wine was hitting you faster than usual?
Sungchan leaned a little closer, his hand holding your chin up, “how long were you planning to lie to me?”
Your eyelids were heavy, and you leaned your head fully on his hand as you slowly processed what he said, “I… haven’t -.”
“You thought that I wouldn’t notice a pair of hunters in my town following me around?” He squeezed your chin and you yelped in surprise. You were fighting your body now, trying to stay awake despite whatever he put in your drink. “I’ve been waiting for you… for so long. I’ve planned it all and yet… you still won’t be honest with me. That’s okay though. I’ll forgive you.”
————-
You don’t remember meeting Sungchan, but he remembered you.
Years ago, Sungchan had done a solo trip to the big city, and wanted to test his world. Everyone did what he said at all times- how far could he push this gift?
“That’ll be $4.26 for your coffee, sir.”
“This coffee is free for me,” Sungchan hummed. He didn’t ever have to do extra work to make this gift pop in- whatever his wish was, as long as it was physically possible, was his command.
“Yes, your coffee is free,” the man nodded as Sungchan walked off.
This is how Sungchan lived life. He had gotten the entire shit town he lived in to follow his every whim. The world was his giant dollhouse.
Until you shattered it.
Sungchan was able to control the folks working the front desk at the nicest hotel he could find. He was set up in the best possible suite, and sat one night at their rooftop lounge that overlooked the concrete city.
“It’s a great view,” a voice above the chatter of other guests caught his attention. You wore a simple dark t shirt and dark pants, and spared him a smile as you leaned against the railing with him.
“Yeah,” was all Sungchan offered. It was difficult to force himself to engage in conversations anymore, but you were pretty enough that he didn’t feel like shooing you away.
“What brings you here?” You asked, your gaze still set on the city below.
“Hm, I’m on a journey of self-discovery. You?”
“I’m here for work,” you replied. Sungchan looked at you again. Your voice was nice, you were attractive, and he didn’t have other plans.
“Come to my room with me,” he spoke, moving off the railing. Instead of your eyes losing their sparkle and glazing over, though, you stayed just as you were.
Instead, you burst out laughing.
“You’re funny,” you chuckled, unmoving. He froze. Maybe he didn’t say it loud enough.
“Come-.”
“You wish. Maybe buy me a drink next time,” you gently shoved his arm, and then disappeared out of the lounge.
Sungchan was frozen, his eyes not moving from where you once stood next to him. After what felt like hours, he rushed downstairs to the concierge and got your information.
You were made for Sungchan, you had to be. Why else would the universe deliver him the exciting puzzle that was you? A vampire hunter since childhood was now the only being Sungchan, a half-vampire, couldn’t control. It was fate. To him, you were star crossed lovers, destined for one another despite the complications.
Sungchan had discovered his parentage early in life. He was able to easily get his mother to tell him the truth about his father since she, like everyone else, was susceptible to their gifts.
So, his next steps to get you trapped, were set.
Sungchan had been using the town he lived in as a dollhouse for years beforehand. He loved testing the limits of his abilities, and had hoped that it would one day awaken his proper vampiric powers. In the meantime, though, he would use the citizens to cultivate a proper image for the hunters to happen upon.
Having every town member edit their social medias. Perfectly crafting and tailoring his existence to seem like a shy, bullied child. Make sure every person in town, if ever approached, all know exactly what to say. All that was left was to get a few vampires that knew their way around the hunters so Sungchan could fully execute his plan.
———-
You were awake, but kept your eyes shut.
It was a technique learned early in your hunter training, but one you didn’t ever use. You didn’t lose the upper hand often enough to be foolishly knocked out.
And, yet, you failed.
“Your breathing is uneven and your heart rate spiked,” his voice sent a chill down your spine.
You cracked open your eyes. You were laid on a plush mattress, and Sungchan sat at the corner of the bed, his eyes unmoving from you.
You wanted to die. Sungchan’s big, beautiful brown eyes that you had become prey for, were gone and replaced with your worst fear. Ruby red eyes, and they were fixed on you.
“You awakened me,” he cooed, crawling towards where you laid. Your eyes searched the space frantically for anything to defend yourself with. Your wrists were bound by rope, and you had been stripped down and changed into a completely different outfit without any of your hidden weapons. The bed you sat on was on top of a metal bed frame, and the wooden nightstands didn’t offer a quick change into a stake. You sat there, like a piece of fresh meat as he now hovered over you. “I want to show you something.”
Sungchan tossed you over his shoulder like you were nothing, taunting you with his newly found vampiric strength. You were reeling.
“You were out cold for three days. I didn’t think what I added to the wine would do that much,” he chuckled as he carried you past beautiful marble flooring and down a few sets of staircases. You were trying to create a mental map, but he was going too fast for you to get much down. “I’m so happy you’re finally here so I can show you your gift.”
Like you were a child, Sungchan placed you on your feet and turned you around. You gagged, staring at the horrific site in front of you. It had to have been months judging by the level of decay, and this matched up with your previous information.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” Sungchan snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you tightly to him, “the old, fake puppeteer is dead. Now, the hunters don’t need you to pull him out of the shadows.”
“Y-You’re the puppeteer now,” you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut. Yuta wasn’t being a dick- he was helping you.
“I had to throw the hunters off our scent-.”
“There is no- Sungchan what the fuck?” you broke from his grasp, terrified and searching the basement area for anything you could use to kill the monster in front of you. “You… you were a human-.”
“And bringing you to your new home awakened me fully!” he was so joyful as he said this, the dread consuming you.
“I was only with you so I could bring,” you glanced at the horrible sight of his slain father, “him down. I was going to kill you.”
“You don’t get it,” he whispered. He looked away, and for a moment you swore his dead eyes were going to shed tears before he met your gaze with a dead glare. “I have planned everything so I could have you. I stole my father’s empire, I had the head of the hunters controlled into giving you this fake assignment…”
As he paused, you decided to make a run towards the basement stairs. You were desperate, and that desperation had made you stupid. Sungchan caught you within an instant, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other squeezing your wrist with an iron grip.
“I didn’t want it to come down to this,” he pouted, “that friend of yours… I have it set that if you escape from me, she’ll burn down the hunters headquarters with herself inside.”
“Seulgi?” you whispered, eyes wide with terror.
“Don’t you get it, though? We are meant to be!” he was smiling as if he did not threaten your livelihood. “Ever since that day in the hotel when you told me no! You’re the only person in the world who did- and you’re a hunter! You are the Juliet to my Romeo!”
“They both die at the end you fucking idiot,” you replied through gritted teeth.
He let go of your wrist, and instead gripped under your chin with his cold hand, “we’re going to have to work on how you speak to me my love.”
Then, you remembered him. The encounter was so brief and so small to you, and yet, it seemed to be absolutely defining for Sungchan to a point that you became his whole focus. Now, your knees trembled as your fate settled.
You set your gaze down, submitting as he let go of your chin.
“See? This is good. I have your favorite foods, and everything you could ever need here,” he squeezed you to his chest, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry. “I know you hate cooking, so I have a team of chefs here just for you.”
“Not of their own will,” you bit, and you felt his grip on you tighten before he forced out a hearty laugh.
“These people are all dolls. Now that I’ve taken over my father’s empire…” his voice trailed off. “Nothing in this world matters except for us.”
_______
You snuck onto the rooftop one night. Sungchan had fallen asleep next to you, and you had managed to slip out. Despite the chill in the air, it was not nearly as cold as when you would be forced to be by his side. Before his vampiric powers awakened, he was still slightly colder, but now it was like being next to dry ice.
You needed to breathe.
You missed Seulgi. You hated seeing the glazed over eyes of the people Sungchan took from god knows where. You hated having to be around the monster of a man.
You hated yourself, especially, for feeling so weak and succumbing to him.
You stared down at the plethora of bites lining your arms, and lifted a hand to touch the ones on your neck that were still fresh. You couldn’t even bring yourself to poke at the ones that lined your upper thighs. You choked back a sob, the wind of the night air rustling through your hair as you stared at the fresh blood Sungchan had managed to leave behind after feeding from you.
You had let a monster inside of you, and the worst part was that you liked it. Sungchan was very clear about the fact that he had been studying you- everything about you. How you took your tea, how you liked to sleep curled up in a ball, and how to properly pleasure you. He had been studying you for years- knowing exactly how you seduced other vampires and how you would get yourself off. It was already an unfair advantage. This, coupled with the fact that being bitten by a vampire has the same effect on your brain as an orgasm, you were pretty much subdued physically as often as possible by him. And it felt fucking incredible- addictive, even. You hated yourself for being so weak. Weak to a point that you’d be begging for him to fuck you, just like he dreamed you would. Just like he hoped, you’d become his little doll. The shame was becoming unbearable.
You stared out at the surrounding area. In the darkness, all you could tell was that there was no city at all nearby, the light pollution nonexistent as you were able to see all the stars clearly. You were previously able to piece together that this residence used to be Sungchan’s father’s, but he had decided this was best for you. Maybe he was right, in a way. You felt like you were meant to die the night your parents did, so being here with Sungchan was a way to repair that broken strand of fate.
You heard footsteps and turned towards the door. It was one of the housekeepers Sungchan had around the property.
“Hello,” you stared blankly. This woman, like every other servant in the manor was instructed to not speak to you under any circumstances. She smiled awkwardly and within the blink of an eye, was in front of you.
Instinctually, you went to the pocket of your jacket for your stake. Of course, though, there was nothing. You were unarmed, and physically at your weakest.
She knocked you down to your back, and began dragging you by your hair towards the edge of the roof. The height was only a few stories so it wouldn’t be enough to kill you, but certainly hurt you enough to make killing you quicker for her.
You were clawing at her hands, tears streaming down your cheeks as you fought for your life. You hadn’t made it this far with Sungchan only to be killed by someone else.
She shoved your head over the edge as a wicked grin formed on her face. You sent a swift kick to the back of her knees, causing her to let go of your hair. You stood up and ran towards the door only to then see Sungchan standing there, eyes bright red in anger.
The woman let out a yelp of fear before you heard a sickening crunch. Sungchan had, without a drop of hesitation, lobbed the head off the vampire and was holding her by her scalp.
“I’ll have another servant pick this up.” he tossed her head off the side of the manor as if it was a crumpled piece of paper. He wrapped you in an embrace, the blood of the woman that landed on his chest now coating you.
“I don’t have anything to protect myself with,” you replied. You were desperate. Maybe, you thought, you could use his obsession with you to get him to give you a stake under the guise of self-preservation. Shit, even some vervain would be useful.
“You’re right…” he whispered, letting go of your embrace and holding you at an arm's length. He brushed the hair stuck to your face away, as you were still sniffling. His hand lowered to the bite marks on your throat. “I’ll make it so that you’re as strong as me.”
As strong as me.
“Sungchan no-!” you were struggling as Sungchan held you with one hand gripping the back of your neck. In the dim moonlight, you watched as his fangs pierced his wrist and exposed his blood.
“No, please!” You had hit a new low, begging for your life.
“I need you safe… and I need you by my side forever,” his voice was melodic as he shoved his wrist into your mouth. You were struggling as he jammed it in as deeply as possible, but you refused to swallow. In your struggle, you two had collapsed onto the ground. He had you fully pinned down, and seemed to relish the fear and disgust in your eyes as is his other hand moved to pinch your nose.
“You know you want to,” he purred, his lips now next to your ear. You were running out of air and the tears and snot were running down your face as you vigorously tried to shake your head no. “I know you love the power you feel when I bite you. When you get to boss the servants around. You’re mine. And now…”
You gulped, your eyes wide in horror as realization set in. His blood flowed down your throat, an ambrosial taste of iron now flooding your tongue and throat.
“Now… you’ll be your whole self with me. Forever.”
——————————————-
More riize? Click here.
Tag! @nini0620
#sungchan x reader#sungchan x y/n#riize imagines#sungchan fic#dark sungchan#vampire!sungchan#riize x reader#nct yandere#riize yandere#vampire nct#yandere themes#nct x reader#dollhouse#kflixnet#sungchan fluff#vampire riize
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Hold on a minute.....
Let me talk my shit right quick:
(spoiler alert if you're still reading from the top)....
Do you see that smile? DO YOU SEE IT? I don't know when the last time we saw a toothy smile on this brotha right here. He's the one character that I wear on my sleeve. He's had bad luck since he showed up in the damn story. Bad luck with women SPECIFICALLY!!
A cheating wife, a nasty divorce, Indya......, an egg-donor for a child's mother.... HE CANT CATCH A BREAK!!
And when Darren was going upside Indya's head this brotha turned into David and stood up to GOLIATH, risking his motherfucking face bones in the process.
Sean is a real one and bet not NOBODY betta say nothing bad about him (I mean his nose we can talk about tho)!
HE DESERVES HAPPINESS RIGHT?
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Deadly Locks (Detective! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Au) (Dark )
Read Chapter 2 here // Series Masterlist
Chapter 3
Summary: Daemon gets an anonymous tip that leads him to you.
Trigger Warning: Rape and torture, 18+ , smut, It's a crime thriller so there would be some squeamish dark stuff, read at your own discretion, mention of rape, assault and murder, Speeding and driving under the influence, Reader has long hair, Daemon's hair is up for imagination, Cigarette consumption, some geographical errors
“Your name is y/n right?” Rebecca asked you so you nodded, she was chained to the other corner of the room, you had no idea what the rapist murderer was trying to do here by putting you two together and you were not interested in finding out his reasons either.
You looked at her properly, she was a beautiful woman with long princess blonde hair and she was covered in bruises from head to toe, some worse than the others.
“He likes you” she said to you, making you give her a sharp glare.
“Who likes me?”
“The kidnapper..he likes you” you chuckled as she said that. Her immature wordings made you feel a little pissed off. You felt awful that you were both driven to this fate together but what gave her the assumption that he preferred you.
“He kills women in a very cruel and sick manner. He's a psychopath with no concept of guilt or empathy inside him ..trust me honey…he likes no one but himself” your voice had a hint of annoyance as you spoke to her to which she responded with a smile.
“I'm Rebecca by the way..do you think we will get out of here?”
“Not unless he finds us”
“Daemon?” you looked at her at the mention of his name.
“How do you know about him?”
“He was talking yesterday..well he was talking to himself.. about Daemon and you” you nodded as she said that. Why was he so obsessed with Daemon? Was it just because he was handling the case?
“Why do you scream so much when you know it's of no use and is only going to bring you more pain?” you asked her to steer the conversation, the motherfucker had told you that he'd cut off her tongue if she keeps doing that and that possibility scared you.
“It's just a survival instinct..why don't you scream?” She asked you and you didn't have an answer for that question. Not really. All you knew was that you didn't want him to break your bones or cut off your tongue.
“Do you think we will get out of here? Go back to our random lives?” She asked you again so you sighed deeply.
“I just know he's doing his best out there to look for us ..” she chuckled as you said that.
“Well If your boyfriend was so good at this job he'd have caught the killer by now”
“Ex boyfriend..and He's our best hope..if anyone can get us out of here it's him”
“I hope so”
While you two were talking he came back and he started with her, he raped her, and she couldn't stop screaming, so he beat her to pulp, you could only cower and cry in the corner of the room.
You felt helpless and weak.
*********
This morning Daemon was woken up by a nightmare, it was about you being hurt and tortured brutally and that has put him on a bad start for the day. He had put the clues together and he had police officers patrolling the Ravenhill area.
Somehow deep down, his instinct told him that that's where he'd find the killer and he wasn't entirely wrong, residing people there had told him that they had seen an old rusty vehicle around in the area but it wasn't blue or a Honda..
Time was of the essence here, he knew he'd never be able to forgive himself if he had failed to protect you.
He needed to act fast and he was determined to do so, he even spent a day going incognito and patrolling the area but it was in vain. And then, he received an anonymous mail, containing a location mark - it was his only lead. Without hesitation, he started driving towards the specified area - a forest outside Belfast. As he drove deeper into the woods, he came across a house in the middle of nowhere.
His eyes widened in shock as he spotted the old Honda parked outside the house. But that wasn't the only vehicle there - there were three or four more such old and rusty cars parked over there, almost hidden by the vegetation. The realization hit him like a brick.
He quickly grabbed his radio to call for back up.
“This is Detective Targaryen, calling for immediate backup. I need all available units to 765.598.6632 immediately. This is a high priority situation, I repeat - this is a high priority situation. I also require an EMT at the location, there are possible injured individuals”
Once the backup dispatch confirmed he stepped out of the vehicle, he was struck by the silence that hung over the area. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that was consuming him 24/7. As he stepped on the porch he took a deep breath and knocked on the door, a minute later a woman opened the door. She was tall, with striking hazel eyes that caught his attention immediately. Then, he was struck by the strong scent of perfume as she greeted him. Her face was carefully made-up with heavy layers of makeup which seemed off to him.
“Hello child, what do you want?”
“Good morning mam..I'm from BPD ..I need to as you a few questions regarding a woman that went missing from the area”
“Oh..sure, give me a minute sweetie”
She spoke in a thick English accent as she excused herself and closed the door.
Even though her words and actions appeared innocuous, he couldn't shake off the sense of unease he felt. It has been a few minutes so when she didn't return he knocked louder this time but got no response. His instincts screamed at him. He took out his gun, and quickly made his way towards the back exit, only to find it open and he saw footprints leaving into the woods.
He wanted to run into the woods but he knew that would only be a waste of time, so he immediately entered the house and his suspicions were solidified. What he saw chilled him to his core. The bottles of lotions lay scattered around the house, some unopened and some completely empty.
But what truly struck fear into his heart were the lifelike statues lying around the house. At first glance, they appeared to be ordinary statues. But as he approached them, he saw that they were made from the embalmed skin of the three victims butchered by the barber killer. Each statue had its own wig, made from the victims' own hair.
He looked around the house but there was no one else there. As the back-up arrived every inch of the house was searched and they found a hidden basement.
*********
You heard the noises coming from the floor above and your heartbeat speed at the thought of being found. You looked at Rebecca and she started to cry and scream as she realized that there were people over there.
Suddenly, a loud sound of pounding boots and shouts filled the air. The door swung open, and several armed police officers burst into the room with their weapons drawn. As they charged in, Daemon followed close behind, his gaze locked on yours instantly as if he was only looking for you and as soon as your eyes met with him the world seemed to come to a halt. Despite the chaos that was swirling around you, he seemed calm and composed like he usually was in such situations.
All you wanted to do was run towards him and hold him close, to feel his warmth and safety. But you were still restrained and unable to move, unable to reach him, they were working on freeing you from the restraints..
And then you saw Rebecca crying, screaming and running towards him for comfort as soon as she was freed. He was taken aback for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her to comfort her.
“Oh god thank God oh god please please please” she cried inconsolably in his arms and he tried to calm her down but both of you needed much more than just comfort, you needed medical assistance, your life wasn't going to be the same moving forward.
So you didn't get to be in his arms, you didn't get to witness him telling you how much he had missed you or how happy he was that you were okay because you blacked out, as soon they had you free of those chains your body finally shut down.
When you regained consciousness, you saw the doctors were scurrying around you, trying to take several tests and take care of the wounds you carried, though there weren't many, not physical. You began to panic again because if this was a dream then you were afraid to wake up in the basement again, trapped and at his mercy. The memories of the hell you had endured came flooding back, and you felt a wave of fear and uncertainty wash over you. As your blood pressure spiked the doctor injected a needle in your arm which only made you struggle more but then you slowly drifted into sleep.
As you opened your eyes next, you saw your mother next to your hospital bed, tears streaming down her face as she gazed at you with love and worry written all over her features. Your friends were all around you as well, their faces a mix of shock and relief.
“Oh god y/n..my baby” your mom hugged you tightly but she didn't get much in response from you.
“How's Rebecca?” you asked her and she was bit surprised by your question,
“She had deeper injuries, she was beaten up but she's getting all the care now …she's not talking to anyone.. except –” she hesitated to finish her words
“Except?”
“Daemon.. she's only talking to him”
*********
Daemon took a seat next to Rebecca, his eyes filled with concern as he took in the extent of her injuries. Her body was covered in bruises which he didn't see on you and he was thankful for that..though he knew the mental trauma you must have now would surpass any physical pain anyday.
“Is there anyone I can call? You don't have an emergency contact..why is that?” he asked her, his voice was gentle as he didn't want her to be afraid of him.
“I have no family “
“What about your friends dear?”
“No friends..I'm not close with anyone"
“Alright.. you're safe now so get your rest. Let me know if I can do anything for you. I'll need to ask a few questions later and take your statement”
She nodded and gave him a smile as he said that.
“You're my hero Daemon..I'll tell you everything you need to know “ she mumbled meekly so he gave her a small smile.
As Daemon walked into your hospital room, he was greeted with a bustling crowd of people. However, as soon as they caught sight of him, one by one, they excused themselves and left the room. Your mother was the last one to leave “I'll be back soon,” she told him, so he nodded.
You weren't looking at him, not really. Your eyes seemed to be fixed on something far off in the distance. The bright light he was used to seeing in those beautiful eyes had disappeared which had made him feel a deep sense of sorrow, regret and guilt again.
“Y/n” as he said your name you turned your head to look at him.
“Can we do the questioning thing later?”
You really thought he had come to take your statement?
He walked towards your bed, took his gun off from the holster and placed it down on the side table before he took his jacket off and placed it on the chair next to the bed.
“That's not what I'm here for” you kept your eyes at him as he said that.
He got into the bed carefully to not mess with the iv drips and he immediately had his arms around you, the moment you felt his warmth and the safety of his arms you broke down in tears and then you cried and cried and cried. His own eyes welled up at the sight of you breaking down like this but he knew he had to be the strong one and he knew he'd have to take care of you not just in physical sense but emotionally and mentally. The trauma you had suffered because of this incident wasn't something you'd forget anytime soon or ever really, no amount of therapy would wipe the imprints the killer had left behind.
“You're safe love..and I won't let anyone harm you again..I'm sorry sweetheart..I'm so sorry I didn't get you sooner” he mumbled softly in your ears and that only made you clutch onto him for dear life. You felt afraid of being alone, you felt scared of that psycho coming back to harm you, to rape you and then to skin you alive.
Since your physical injuries weren't as bad as Rebecca you were allowed to go the next day. They tested you for his DNA but found nothing on you. Your mother hired a lawyer, and you had to undergo psych evaluation for the psychological and sexual torture you had suffered. Your mother was living with you but you know she won't stay forever, she'd have to resume her life but yours felt like it had stopped. You weren't the same person anymore as you used to be, you were broken and damaged and so very afraid to be alone.
Two days later you were getting interviewed by Mary Allen for the Belfast news. This was going to be your life now, you'd be known as the surviving victim of the barber killer for the rest of your life.
Daemon was present there too to support you and you saw Rebecca hugging him as soon as she saw him, she had taken a strong liking towards him, it was understandable, he saved her life and the brutal fate but that didn't mean you didn't feel a certain way about her sudden clinginess towards him.
“I don't know if I want to do this” Rebecca said to him so he gave her a comforting smile. She was a beautiful blonde, tall and attractive in her own regards, her personal life was a mess though, she had a tough upbringing and it was something he was able to relate with.
“You should, both of you ..are not just victims, you're survivors and you need to talk about your experiences, it would be good for you..trust me”
You focused your attention towards your phone, there were plenty of messages from Pierce, you hadn't seen him since you had been rescued, he was a nice guy, but a bit too nice. He had the same eyes and so did Daemon but you knew Daemon would never hurt you.
You looked up as Mary entered the room and introduced herself to you and Rebecca.. she seemed very professional with her business suit and brunette hair tied neatly in a bun.
“Hey stranger” she winked at Daemon and he gave her a glare before his eyes met with you, he walked towards you so you gave him a smile.
“What's going on between you and her?” You asked him so he chuckled,
“Nothing..it's just sex” he told you nonchalantly and you were taken aback by his response.
“You're sleeping with Rebecca?”
“What? No i…”
“Ohhh you didn't mean her–” you got up before he could explain himself further.
As you sat down for the interview a microphone was attached to your shirt and she asked a very generic question at first which was about your individual experiences as if you were sharing pleasantries over tea.
“Well it's hard to talk about” Rebecca spoke so you nodded in agreement.
“Of Course we didn't have the same experience as you can see–” you looked at her as she pointed towards her bruises, surprised at the way she worded it “But I'm glad I got the worst end of it and he spared y/n for most parts”
Mary's face scrunched in sympathy as if she felt bad for her suffering.
“Did you do that on purpose? Did you scream on purpose so he won't hurt y/n?” Mary asked her and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
“Well yes he took his anger out on me..all my life i have been that person that did nothing for anybody else but herself and when I realized that there was another girl in captivity this voice screamed inside me that told me to step up and protect her..so I took his brunt–” she started weeping mid sentence so Mary placed her hand on hers to offer comfort.
You sat there dumbfounded as Rebecca undermined your suffering and and at the same time made it sound like a sacrifice she had made just for you.
“That was so heroic of you ..to put someone else over you while in that situation is a really brave thing to do”
Rebecca wiped her tears as Mary comforted her.
“So y/n, tell me about the mother, you mentioned before that she sang you a lullaby every night?” Mary asked you but before you could answer Rebecca chimed in again.
“What woman ? I never met her”
At this point you were just done with the interview.
Once it was concluded you detached the mic and stepped out of the room, Daemon immediately followed you as he saw you storming out.
“Y/n” he called out your name but you didn't stop so he closed the distance between you two and grabbed your arms to hold you close.
“Hey ..look at me” he cupped your cheeks and made you look at him, your cheeks were already soaked with tears by that point.
“It's hard enough.. hard enough as it is without people trying to make me feel as if I didn't suffer enough..that i got it easy-” your lips trembled as you spoke,
“You suffered darling..I don't know what those two…fuck it's all my fault..I'm soo sorry”
He hugged you tightly and that's all you needed in the moment.
“I want to go home daemon.. please”
“I'll take you home”
On the way to your home you didn't say anything to him but he knew he had to make you open up to him, he had to leave immediately after he dropped you but there were two police officers patrolling outside your house even though your mum was living with you. Daemon didn't want to take any risk again.
Later that day he stormed inside Mary's office and pulled her aside
“What the hell was that?” He asked her and she chuckled in response.
“What do you even mean and don't talk to me like that”
“That fucking wreck of an interview..she's a fucking victim..she has been through hell and you made her feel awful ..you undermined her suffering”
“I just asked questions and she didn't say anything, Rebecca did ..how is it my fault?"
“Yeah it's not your fucking fault Mary..you aren't going to publish that interview you hear me?”
He warned her before he stormed out of the office. The interview got published anyways, both in paper and it was uploaded on YouTube as well.
He knew he had to focus on the case, the killer was still not caught and he had to look for him before he'd hurt anyone else but all his thoughts were filled with you, you had been through a life changing experience and he didn't want you to feel as if you didn't have him by your side when you needed him the most.
Not again. He didn't want to let you down again..
As he went to your home your mom was in the living room.
“Thank God you're here, she has been in the bathroom for an hour…don't worry she's okay I checked..it's just ..just make her come out..I'll go buy groceries” she told him so he nodded and as she left he locked the door from inside before he went to your room.
As he entered the bathroom he found you soaking in the bathtub, your head was placed on the edge of the tub as you stared out of the tinted window even though you couldn't really see anything. He sat down at the edge of the bathtub.
“I didn't scream Daemon”
“What do you mean sweetheart” he asked you softly, seeing you like this flashed several memories of the older times he had spent with you in a bathtub like this, just relaxing after a long day at times and then making sweet love at others but those days were easier, free from such pain and suffering.
And You belonged to him before, you were his, how did he allow you to slip between his fingers so easily? He should have fought harder to keep you, he should have been more present.
“You know you watch movies and crime documentaries and you think you'd know what to do in such a situation. You think you'd be wiser and smarter and braver but i--" your voice choked on your tears "I wasn't any of those things. I didn't scream when he took me..i didn't scream when he raped me, i froze..i froze and took everything like a coward”
His eyes welled up but he didn't say anything in response, you felt his fingers caressing your cheek so you turned your head and looked at him finally.
“Come on, let's get you out of there okay?”
“I'm naked”
“I have seen you naked plenty of times.. more times than i can count”
He picked you up from the tub, didn't care that his clothes were getting wet, he dried your hair and put you in comfortable clothes but his sweet actions that once brought you comfort now made you feel scared.
“What is it darling..talk to me” he asked you as he noticed your body shivering against his hold.
“I see him.. I see him all the time. I don't wanna…i wanna see you…you're all i thought of while I was in there .. and now I'm here with you but I see him touching me.. hurting me” he cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears with his thumbs.
“Look at me darling..you have to look at me and you have to see me..you're safe now and I won't let anyone hurt you again”
He wrapped his arms around you to pull you out of your head and it took a few minutes but he managed to bring you out of that headspace. As your breathing levelled he pulled away from you slowly.
“I have to go but I'll be back okay?” he said to you as he made you sit down on the bed.
“You don't have to babysit me "
And there she was.
“I'm not babysitting you..I'm taking care of you”
You nodded as he said that.
He was almost out of the door when he turned around to look at you.
“Im glad you didn't scream”
“Why is that?” you chuckled bitterly in response.
“Because that saved you from a hell lot of additional pain” he walked towards you and leaned down to cup your cheeks before he kissed your forehead.
“That was a smart thing to do in that situation, having that fear that you must have felt and still not screaming..that must have taken hell lot of bravery than one could imagine..that's why you'll always be my scrappy little girl”
He kissed your forehead once again before he left. And as soon as he was gone you broke down in tears again. You wanted to stop him and have him come back to you, you wanted him to hold you and make you forget that you two had ever broken up, but you didn't even know whether he still loved you or not. He was seeing other people, having sex with them, he must have moved on.
A few days later as your mother left, he asked you to pack your stuff because he wanted to take you to his place instead of you being here all alone with your weakened state of mind.
You didn't say anything or attempted to refuse to go with him like he had expected. Perhaps you wanted to be with him as well.
Once you reached his house you took a deep breath, you both moved into this place together and when you broke up with him you moved out so being back here felt nice. There were several find memories in the four walls of this house that you cherished deeply.
“Ummm can I borrow a shirt or something..I don't want to unpack right now”
He smiled as you asked him that.
“You know where it is, I'll make some tea for you” he told you before he stepped out of the room to go into the kitchen. As you opened the closet it immediately smelled like his cologne, you pulled a shirt out of the closet but your eyes fell upon a box and you couldn't stop yourself from pulling it out to see what it was.
As soon as you grabbed the small Tiffany box in your hands your eyes welled up..
It was a ring, an engagement ring.
🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
Note : Plenty of things to come and plenty of reveals to happen..I'm excited, this chapter may feel boring but was necessary ☺️
Taglist
@daddylokisqueen @iamavailablesstuff @123forgottherest @mcufan72 @shuichiakainx @avalyaaa @ajthefujoshi @tatertati-fangirl @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @stupidthoughtsinwriting
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x reader smut#daemon targaryen x reader angst#daemon targaryen x reader fluff#tw kidnapping#tw rape#non canon au#modern day au#modern daemon targaryen
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Cowboy Up - Pt.1 - Ryan x Dutton!reader
Um so I watched all of Yellowstone last week and as a result, my multi-year writer's block was broken by a need to see more of Ryan because I am obsessed with Ian Bohen. Idk how many parts this will have or how often it will get updated as I'm in the last few months of uni but I hope y'all enjoy!
Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!Reader (Kayce's twin sister)
WC: 1053
Next part
Disclaimer: Beyond watching Yellowstone I have zero/little knowledge of Western riding and the ranching lifestyle but I do know horses so that has certainly influenced this! I'm also English so writing dialogue correctly for them is not my strong point! If you find any issues please let me know!
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The sun was just beginning to dip below the mountains and the cold was starting to set in when she joined him on the fence. Neither of them spoke for a while, just looking out at the vastness in front of them, all that was theirs but came with so many conditions.
Eventually she broke the silence, “so you told him? How’d he take that one?”
Wordlessly he opened his shirt where the ‘Y’ was just starting to scab over, still red and angry.
“Motherfucker,” she swore, “this ain’t fair Kayce. He doesn’t just get to do this.”
He shook his head, “dad does whatever he wants and there ain’t no consequences for him. That’s why I gotta do this.”
“Shit man. What’s Monica gonna do? Besides worrying about you getting your ass shot in the desert miles from civilisation?”
Kayce chuckled, “beats getting my ass shot in the middle of Montana miles from civilisation. She’ll be okay, her family will help and she’ll be a teacher. Just like she planned. It’s you I’m worried about here with dad and no one else to speak sense to. ‘Cept Lee”
“Well I’m leaving, dad be damned. I’m not gonna be a pawn in his power trip. Gonna go see this godforsaken country and win it all so that when I come back he can’t question whether it’s where I wanna be,” she declared.
Her brother rolled his eyes, “you ain’t talking about the same him now.”
“I don’t know what your talking about,” she denied, staring out at the darkened mountains.
Kayce shoved her shoulder, “you can’t bullshit to me y/n. That’s the one problem with being twins, ain’t no way to lie to me.”
“I’m just a kid to him, he ain’t ever gonna see me any other way if I stay here,” she admitted, “hell if I stay here no one will ever see me as anything more than his kid. ‘S why we both gotta do this Kayce.”
He nodded, “no way to stand in the sun in this state, always gonna be a shadow.”
“When I come back I’ll be able to stand in sunlight so bright I’ll have a fucking halo.”
-/-/-
2 years later…
Montana has its charms all year round, but fall has a particular appeal. The leaves had started to turn, there was a chill in the air that only seemed to get stronger and there was still a frost on the grass that the sun hadn’t hit.
With the sun keeping the cold from their bones, the Yellowstone ranch hands were occupying themselves keeping their roping skills fresh. Rip observed from the sidelines as the new hand struggled to keep up with Ryan who turned to lecture the kid about keeping his eye on the steer.
Lloyd rolled his eyes when he missed the horns again, “you gotta try harder than that if you wanna be a wrangler!”
“He keeps pulling the damn steer too early,” the hand argued back.
Ryan glared at him, “don’t fuckin’ blame me for your bad skills.”
Before they could descend into an all out brawl, the group were distracted by the sound and sight of truck coming down the road. They watched it pull up in front of the barn, trailer in tow. A rare silence occupied them as they watched a young woman step out, adjust her hat then stare out across the ranch in front of her.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Lloyd muttered, “she’s back. You fuckin’ know about this?”
Rip said nothing, but his face gave the answer. The other hands who recognised her muttered between themselves about what she was doing back after so long.
The new hand leaned over towards Ryan, “who the fuck is that and why does everybody care?”
“That is y/n Dutton,” he answered without taking his eyes off of her.
“I didn’t know John had another daughter,” he responded.
Ryan shook his head, “hell kid you gotta lot to learn about this place.”
“She’s fuckin’ hot mind,” the hand murmered.
The older hand spat out his words, “you keep words like that off your tongue if you want to keep it.”
Lee stepped out of the barn and stepped around the truck to greet her, “the prodigal daughter returns.”
“I don’t see Beth anywhere,” she laughed bitterly, “but it’s good to see you Lee.”
He hugged her, “I’m glad you’re back. Been a long time coming.”
“I came back for me, not for him remember that,” she turned towards the corral, “think I’ve given them enough of a show to explain it so they can pick their jaws up off the floor?”
He gestured for her to follow him towards where the ranch hands were all still quietly watching. She strode over to the group, smiling at Rip who nodded back at her.
“Where’s that mare of yours?” He asked.
Y/n shrugged, “a champion barrel horse would be wasted on this ranch. Sold her for more money than I’m ever gonna earn in the rest of my lifetime.”
“You ain’t rodeoing anymore?” Lloyd questioned.
“I did what I set out to do when I went on the circuit. Saw this godforsaken country and won it all. It’d get boring to win it over again,” she moved her gaze towards where Ryan was watching her, “ain’t no one gonna question where I wanna be now.”
Rip nodded, “afraid we ain’t got a horse to spare for you y/n.”
“I got that covered Rip. Got one coming up tomorrow from a ranch in Wyoming. Some fuckin’ old school boys who don’t know how to be nice to a horse they didn’t ruin,” she explained, “man’s wife broke it and now she’s dead ain’t no one gonna ride him gentle. Figured he might stand a chance with me.”
Lloyd chuckled, “always were a soft hand. Figured that’s how you won it all.”
“Guess that question that remains is, do you have a place for me? Not in the house but here,” she clarified.
Lee looked at Rip then back at his sister, “I reckon so. You gonna stay in the bunkhouse?”
“Oh fuck no,” y/n laughed, “I didn’t drag that thing all the way from Texas to sleep with these fuckheads. It’s looked after me in worse places. Think it’ll do just fine here.”
#ryan yellowstone#ryan yellowstone x reader#yellowstone#yellowstone tv#yellowstone imagine#dutton ranch#dutton!reader#ian bohen
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After seeing the non-canon demon interactions of Nel and Al in your god blessed writing. I can only imagine the mischief Nel would get up to after realising she can use Lucifer to her advance to get back at Al.
The chaos, I can see it now.
THIS IS FOR FUN ONLY AND NOT CANON TO YOURS TRULY
An Apple a Day
Lucifer motherfucking Morningstar is in the hotel. Nel is fighting not to stress smoke or shit her suit pants.
She cannot fuck up in front of this guy. Not fucking up is decently easy. She’s made plenty of mistakes- some of which landed her here in this inferno of eternal torment- but she’s also made plenty of sound choices, like huddling away in a corner of the lobby as she watches Lucifer occupy himself with rambling about the intricacies of crafting rubber ducks to his daughter and her girlfriend.
Because peace is never an option, a chill washes over her and static tingles dance on her skin- it's the only warning she receives of the incoming suffering.
Alastor materializes at her side with a crackling hum, one elbow propped up to rest on her head while the other grips his microphone. Nel doesn’t even flinch.
“Hello, my Negative Nelly! What are you doing skulking around this cobwebbed corner? You’re missing out on all of today’s grand fun!”
“The fun of you ribbing the big cheese of Hell, you mean,” she snaps, sticking out a finger to jab him in his ribs. “Cut that shit out. You’re playing with hellfire.”
Alastor drops into the floor before reforming on her opposite side, his other elbow weighing down on her skull.
“Jealous? Don’t be! My disdain for him could never compare to the special contempt we share.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I speak from the heart.”
“You don’t have one.”
“Oh, my sweet, you wound me!”
His dramatics grate on the single nerve of Nel’s that his hoofed feet haven’t trampled already. At this rate, he threatens to draw attention to them, and by proxy her, and she is not going to have Lucifer associate her with the jackass like everyone else in this ratty hotel already does.
She’s going nuclear.
“Allie,” she coos, placing her hand over his upon his staff, “I heard all that mess earlier with you and Charlie. If you wanted to have a daughter so badly, all you ever had to do was ask me.”
There’s a harsh, sharp pitch in radio waves while Alastor’s gray face twists into one of pure, utter, absolute mortification. The beanpole sinks down into his shadow on the musty carpet and darts away, becoming nothing more than a black mass fleeing to his radio tower.
Ah, she’s still got it.
A very pleased snicker catches her attention, and she snaps her head to the side, coming face to face with the devil she’d been trying to avoid all day. Mortified, she stammers over herself, staring up at Lucifer who’s beaming so widely that his red cheeks are pressing upwards into his eyeballs.
“Oh Jesus Christ- shit, no, not him- Your Majesty, I am so sorry you had to see that. Look-”
He holds out one hand to silence her. Nel brushes aside the indignation of being told what to do by a man and falls silent.
Then, he bends over and giggles.
“Are you kidding?” Lucifer wipes away a few tears threatening to fall down his rosy cheeks as he keels over cackling. “Oh, oh, oh! Woo! You! Ah, sweet Eden, that was incredible, phenomenal, fantastic! Way to stick it to that tacky piece of crap! Keep up the good work, uh-?”
“Penelope, sir. Or, uh, Nel. Nelly.”
“Keep up the good work, Nancy!” he chirps with a wink, clapping a hand onto her shoulder.
She blanches. “It’s Nelly.”
“That’s what I said! That’s what I said, right? What did I say?”
Awkward tension settles between them. One of her yellow eyes twitches.
After the brief pause, a mischievous grin slithers onto the king’s bone white face. “Well, Mel, if you ever find yourself in need of some assistance with that halitosis-ridden bellhop, don’t be a stranger!”
“...You don’t say?”
“Mhm! Now..." he leans in close to her, deathly serious, and Nel begins to fear that she's done something terribly wrong. "How do you feel about rubber ducks?”
Oh. Huh.
Maybe she does have an ally here after all.
#my asks#a drabble!#wow first time literally EVER writing for Lucifer#I hope I did him justice bc I'm SWEATING#the pookies
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This Year’s Enigmatic Plus One🪅🎉
Part 1: So Much for Talking...
Words: 2,574
Summary: Loki returns to your life after a 10-year absence. The moral of the story, some Loki’s turn into trees, and others drive Porsches and escape from the 9th century just to torment you.
Smut rating: Yes 🔥🔥🔥
Plot rating: There is a plot hidden in the weeds of ⭐️ smut.
Oh man, I can’t believe it has taken me so long to get back to writing! But I’m back! This story is silly 🙃 but it got me ready to write my next big story that should be arriving soon! I hope 🤞 it’s at least decent!! It might be rusty!
These folks might want to read! I am missing people I know. So please let me know if you want to be tagged in new projects.
@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @thomase1 @mcufan72 @caffiend-queen @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbsblr @gigglingtiggerv2 @anukulee
@mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @sailorholly @lokisgoodgirl @shambelle97 @lokischambermaid @eleniblue @smolvenger @wheredafandomat @hiroyukinasukawa @meowmeow-motherfucker @latent-thoughts @buttercupcookies-blog @kingwwend @coldnique
“I’m hard underneath the table, just in case you wondered.”
He had sauntered into the café just barely two minutes before and this was one of the first things he could think to say. Loki’s innate smugness still took up too much of his face, you could barely see the handsome man behind the wide grin.
You were trying to maintain a façade-you weren’t going to give in so quickly.
Shifting your weight slightly in your chair, not to appear too eager or too unbothered. You were so cool-you could be the frost giant.
You scuttled your water glass closer, perhaps an instinct to grab something. Your eyes narrowed.
“I wasn’t wondering,” you took a sip, placing the glass back down with a dull clank.
You continued, “I guess no need to explain yourself or apologize first. No need to tell me where the hell you’ve been.” The litany of words flew faster out of your mouth the longer he kept smiling.
It had been 10 long years. Loki’s expression changed to slightly sheepish. Maybe he had been too bold. Too presumptive. He tried to back pedal a little.
“Dove, I can’t help it. Sorry if my expletives were jarring.”
“More like degrading.”
He couldn’t just wander back into your life like this. You had questions. You needed answers.
For example, you’d aged, he hadn’t. You were now in the throes of everything breaking and falling, loosening from the bones, readying for some easy mortal grave. Loki on the other hand was resplendent with eternal tightness and no doubt, hardness.
On the upside, you were much wiser. The sparkle in your belly from men like Loki was now your own fire. He wasn’t the only way the flame could ignite. Just a rather fast one.
But you knew he was not lying about being hard. So now your mind was glued to his inseam.
Had you the presence of mind and the reach, you’d find your hand barely able to hold his cock. It was always too much and not enough.
You had known that on Earth we learned from our stupid mistakes, and Loki being some eternal ballerina didn’t necessarily have to. He could just dance away to another stage, another production.
Unless of course, something had occurred to change from the scorned prince you used to fuck and then regret. If he would just explain himself, maybe you could decide how quickly this was going to be over.
“Where have you been Loki?” You croaked out.
Not missing a beat, he continued. “You want to see?”
“What? No Loki! Not here! We are in public!” Your face was turning three different shades of vermillion.
“Woman, no I don’t mean my impossibly hard cock, I mean do you want to see a picture of what I have been doing?”
“Shit.” You took a long drink of your water, so long in fact your glass was emptied.
“Thirsty?”
“No, no not really, I mean it’s fucking water, Loki you are supposed to drink it! Didn’t they have water on Asgard?”
You shouldn’t have mentioned Asgard.
You instantly regretted it but couldn’t find a way to apologize, you were too startled by him. It had taken three valiums, four episodes of 90 Day Fiancé, and two phone calls to your bestie between Monday and today to even say yes to possibly meeting him.
His body went from loose to more restricted, brushing a stray obsidian lock of hair behind his ear. He opened an old looking bag and pulled out a photograph. It was strange he didn’t have a phone or some other advanced technology.
Now that your eyes could focus, he did seem a little primitive, his outfit was simple, no fanfare, no announcing his royalty or his esteemed place in the cosmos.
“No cell phone?” you had to say it.
“No.”
“Okay, this must have something to do with where you’ve been.”
You looked down at the tabletop, Loki laid out a single picture. It was him wearing what looked like a knight’s armor.
“You are acting now?” you said with a giggle.
He laughed. At least he could still laugh.
“No pet. Not acting.”
“Why do you look like you might have been at King Arthur’s court?”
Loki’s impossibly blue eyes smiled along with him as he dared to explain more. “You are a smart one aren’t you. Close.”
“You traveled back in time?”
“Let’s just say I am Loki, but I am not exactly the Loki you remember.”
You looked closely at the picture. He better be able to explain why he had a camera in 800 CE. The horrible thing was-he looked fucking hot as a knight or whatever was going on.
“Intrigued. Continue please.”
“You’re apt to believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you Loki? You are a god and last I knew you had repented for almost blowing up New York City and then your ancestral home was completely destroyed. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what role you played in all of that. I had five years of therapy because I was fucking a being that might have destroyed an entire realm. Yeah, no biggie.”
You had devolved in your speech, covering more ground than the question of believing him. Your face grew hotter if that was possible.
“Well gods don’t do things small, you know that. If I recall correctly that is why you were ‘fucking’ me as you so crassly say. You like ‘big things’, or my ‘big things’.”
You were on the verge of crestfallen. This conversation was terse at best. Not going so well. You kept reloading arrows from your imaginary quiver.
“Fine, then I’ll send you my therapy bill if I ever figure out how you’d possibly pay it.”
“I’m insulted by the idea that I wouldn’t pay your ‘therapy’ bill, whatever that is.”
“Never mind,” you scoffed.
You took your eyes off him for a moment and in that nano second, he grabbed your tiny hands in his stupidly big ones.
“Darling, you asked where I have been, can I tell you.”
“Fine.”
“Great, but let’s leave this terrible café, the artwork is grinding my gears, as you Midgardians say.”
“Loki, I have to be back at 4:00 to catch the ferry,” you were trying to keep this punctual.
“I have a New Year’s Eve party I am invited to, I told you.”
“Oh yes, that silly thing.”
“It’s not silly!” you retorted.
“I guess for us timeless beings, another year is like a sneeze,” he smiled, his teeth almost fang-like in the light. Quickly, you both got up and left the café. You had pondered his frost giant form, and how his current Asgardian visage sometimes seemed almost transparent. It was like something of his true self could never really be hidden.
“What are you looking at?” Loki asked, noticing your gaze as he checked his reflection on a parked Tesla as you walked.
“Nothing,” you replied.
“You saw something,” he insisted, his vanity apparent.
“I didn’t see anything, Loki. No red eyes, no blue skin, no lines on your face.”
“What? How dare you,” he grimaced.
“Okay, Loki, we can end this now—I’ll catch the 1:30,” you declared, testing him.
“I didn’t come all this way to fight,” Loki implored, reaching out with his enveloping presence. He was still all legs and arms. Today he resembled a surly black widow spider.
“Let’s not pretend we don’t want this,” Loki said, just before he slightly tripped on the sidewalk.
“Holy Fuck,” he exclaimed, barely saving himself and his drink from a spill. Clearly flustered he slowed his pace.
“I see you’re still agile,” you noted, and he shot you a glare back. Maybe it was better to be in a private place or at least somewhere with better artwork.
“Do you have a hotel or something, Loki?”
“I don’t, but I have this human car,” he replied, showing off the Porsche’s flash with a clicker.
“How did you fit in this thing? I thought you said gods liked big things, to match their um big things,” you teased.
Staying mad 0 points, being cheeky 100 points. You were failing. You looked at your Doc Martens and pretended to study the scuffs.
“Just get in, pet,” he urged, holding the door open for you.
“That’s interesting Loki, you never held the door for me before.”
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
Once inside, you inquired smugly, “Where would be we going? You came from somewhere?”
“We don’t have to go anywhere. We can just get warm and continue our conversation here,” he suggested, his grin widening once again.
“No…No…No…,” your thoughts raced, considering the implications.
“Are you saying you want to get warm? Like, turn on the heater warm?” you questioned, hoping for clarity.
“No.”
“Then what did you have in mind?” you pried.
“My lips can be warm,” he said, his voice persuasive Shakespeare.
Shit, again.
Just then he moved his head a touch to the left, the damn car was so small all it took was this movement and his indeed warm lips covered yours. Kissing Loki was always the beginning of something, never an isolated act. If he had been earlier to arrive, say at Christmas, you could have reenacted the “Baldur scenario” as he used to call it.
According to Loki, Baldur was some relative or something, accidently killed with a branch of mistletoe by him, apparently an honest mistake. Instead of having that terrible image seared into humanity’s memory he “changed” the story to have mistletoe be an excuse for kissing not killing. Leave it to Loki for creating something so inane.
Yet kissing him was one of life’s true pleasures. His mouth engulfed yours. 10 years apparently produces a lot of feeling. His hands raked through your hair holding your head as he continued to press himself deeper into you. The fire. It was burning.
Fuck all where he’d been. He could have been shacked up with Marjorie Taylor Green for all you cared. Okay, maybe you did care about that. He better not have been.
He slowed down, nipping your lower lip. Giving you just a second to slide your body on top of his. By now the windows were completely fogged, hopefully giving any onlookers a laugh and an impetus to hurry along. Your body just barely fit on his lap.
One of his long arms pushed his driver’s side seat back with a jolt, you had a little more room, but it mostly just landed you squarely on his now very clearly hard cock with a thud. Your moan was partly concealing what could have been tears. When he was inside you it felt like it was a short flight to your heart. You hated that fact even more now that you were matured.
“I thought you were being cautious,” he whispered into your ear, prompting you to snap out of it.
“I was.”
“Oh, I see. Just a bit of positioning from me, and all your reservations vanish. Converted so easily,” he observed, his breath warm against your skin.
“Not quite, Loki, but if you don’t... I can’t even...” Your words trailed off as you grappled with your thoughts.
“You won’t what?” he prodded, distancing himself slightly to unzip his pants.
“I won’t call you.”
“I don’t have a phone,” he chuckled lightly as he maneuvered his pants down, supporting you effortlessly with one arm. That cock he was bragging about earlier was making what would surely be its penultimate appearance.
You noticed the absence of his underwear and couldn’t resist commenting, “No underwear, huh? Prepared, are we? That’s unlike you, Loki. I thought you enjoyed the ritual of undressing.”
He glanced down with a feigned innocence, “I wear underwear?”
You paused, meeting his gaze, “Yes, you do.”
If you hadn’t been seconds from plunging down on top of him, you’d put these pieces together more carefully, used your journalism chops to understand these subtle changes. You studied him. He seemed slightly like a different version of himself.
It was like the way the wine snobs spoke about different versions of the same wine. Now it seemed like he was perhaps less oak and more peach. Chalkier minerality, less green apple. A glitch from the time apart perhaps? You wondered. Maybe you didn’t remember him like you thought you did?
Your introspection was halted when he fucked up into you with a velocity that brought your hands to the roof of the tiny car, trying feebly to steady yourself. Noticing your struggle, Loki grabbed your hips, moving them. Forcing you into the cadence of his pleasure for a moment until you could gather your wits and your strength. You were not some coy maiden for this space man to bed anymore. His eyes were closed, his fang teeth biting his lower lip, as if saying okay fine, have your way with me.
You could barely hear his whispers; they were just beyond audible. Something about the best...’something’ he’d ever felt, and to “ride him” like St. Michael’s horse. Whatever that meant.
Every single time he told you that you were the best, you believed him. That was the problem. You wondered if he’d even be able to pull out, there was no room in the minuscule Porsche, it had you pinned together permanently it seemed. If you got pregnant, you would blame Loki’s bougie taste.
“Loki,” you said his name with a shudder. Your bodies slowly going limp. You had come at least twice. You wondered if he had as well.
“Was that worth waiting 10 years for?” he asked, a smug satisfaction in his voice as he emerged from his trance. His own face slightly flushed.
Hopping off his lap with a wince, you wanted to answer him but couldn’t. It was worth it of course but you couldn’t tell him that.
“Are you ready to talk now? Now that we got that out of the way?” he inquired.
“You still want to talk…what?” you asked, your disbelief evident.
This really wasn’t the Loki you remembered. You expertly wiped the condensation from the window, just like someone who always had sex in tiny sports cars, but a noticeably displeased official face appeared gazing back at you.
“Oh no, I guess we didn’t go unnoticed,” you muttered as you pointed to the officer.
“We better go,” Loki said, starting the car and clearing the window more with his scarf.
“Loki, I have my New Year’s Party. I can’t go with you!” you protested, trying to compose yourself.
“It’s either stay with me or talk to ‘Mr. Blue Coat’ there,” he presented the options with a hint of urgency.
“I would be the last person to make fun of blue things if I were you,” you shot back with a mix of frustration and humor.
He actually looked nervous. Maybe you were past giving him a hard time, maybe because he had just given you a really good hard time.
“Okay, fine, drive, but I better not be your hostage, if you still do that sort of thing,” you barely conceded.
“You made the correct choice,” Loki said with a breathy chuckle, the car pulling away swiftly seemingly ignoring your hostage reference.
“It was either join me or explain our...activities to the police. Not much of a hostage situation if you ask me.”
You rolled your eyes. “Hostage to your whimsy, maybe.”
“And what about that picture?” you asked, motioning to the image of him in medieval armor now on the dashboard.
Loki glanced at the photo. “Ah, that’s what we need to talk about. Let's just say I’ve had some... historically significant adventures.”
“Historically significant, huh?” You leaned back, processing his words and their implication.
This car ride better "come" with some more answers...
To be continued!
#tom hiddleston#loki fanfiction#loki fandom#mcu#loki laufeyson#loki#loki smut#loki x reader#loki fanfic#loki fluff
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On Season 1, Episode 7 Part Three : Risottogate
OK look,
Go and get yourself an ecto cooler or something, cus this is long, OK? This is long.
You comfortable?
Alright, let’s go.
don't forget the Xanax!
Elevated Beef (stock)
There’s a connection drawn between Sydney and veal stock in the Bear. She spills it all over herself during Brigade. Claire interrupts Carmy purchasing veal stock for menu testing her bone broth idea at the end of 2:2. It’s an interesting ingredient to align her with: a staple of French cuisine, something you’ll find in a professional high end kitchen but not necessarily at home, a distinctive, practical component which provides a subtle, solid umami base for a range of dishes.
The first time this connection is drawn is during one of my favourite interactions: the ‘plum haribo’ story in Brigade. Marcus has decorated his work station (I love him), and despite the fact that Carmy says he’s having flashbacks (eeeeeeek), I think he is happy to see this coming together of his two worlds.
They start talking about this fancy plum dish, and a gelee component (which will reappear in Honeydew!) that had to have a very specific texture. Carmy has been talking about the dedication needed to make this dish work with pride, presenting the texture of the gelee as a huge challenge, something it took someone a year to figure out. Sydney cracks it in less than a minute. Veal fat. She knows what’s needed, and she knows why: it congeals when it’s cold. Boom!
Carmy’s response to this always amuses me. He is not…dismayed exactly. Not quite. After all, it’s a reminder of her brilliance, and also that that world is not so far away. That being said, she cuts across a punchline here; and what was a mystery to the best chefs in the world for a year is immediately obvious to her, to the extent that it’s not even really a flex on her part: she states it quite diffidently. Marcus’s gleeful ‘Mission Accomplished’ is very different from Carmy’s, which is a bit more ‘…oh.’.
On rewatches where I feel charitable, Carmy then implements the brigade cus he's been reminded that he has someone close by from that world, he has an ally that speaks his language, who is talented. On days when I feel less charitable, I combine this with him later talking her through the differences between stock/jus/demi-glace in front of Tina like an asshole, and see him handing the brigade over at that specific moment, in the specific way that he does as passive aggressive. Most days I’m with the former! Still…we’re back in the grey areas of Syd and Carmy’s dynamic. Where all the good shit is!
He's so glad she figured that out so quickly, absolutely not feeling a type of way about it, nope, not at all
I wanted to start with this story cus it opens up three things for me:
a) just a frisson, a hint, a delicious drop (!) of competition between Syd and Carmy
b) the question, beloved by fanfic writers everywhere, of what the dynamic between these two might have been if they had met in a different context.
c) a third, messier thing, about Carmy going away, tooling up, coming back and it needing to be worth something, that going way. As far as he knows at this point, It didn’t achieve what it was meant to achieve, it didn’t get Mikey’s attention. Maybe he didn’t need to leave Chicago to do it. Sydney's talent tickles that tension, as does Marcus's (trios, trios!). So what was it for? What were the past few years of his life for, if a bunch of this stuff was in Chicago all along?
Who was Carmy away from Chicago? Who is he without his family? We’ve only seen one flashback so far, very much from inside Carmy’s head. The way he tells it is very different from what we see. At Al Anon, he describes himself like this:
‘when somebody new came into the restaurant to stage, I’d look at them like they were competition, like I’m gonna smoke this motherfucker’.
But you're tall and sexy, so don't worry about it babes
Gosh. Yes Chef!
I don’t think Carmy holds anything like this level of aggression towards any of the original staff of the Beef: it would be absurd: they don’t have his training or experience. For the most part we see doing the work of pulling a team together, which explicitly involves putting that kind of competitiveness to the side.
I don’t think he has this energy for Sydney.
Not quite.
I do think it’s an important thing for us to learn about his character. I do think that we are told it at the beginning of Episode 8, after Sydney has quit, because there are ugly feelings around the risotto dish. I do think that those feelings drive a lot of how Review goes down, and that Carmy knows this.
This ferocious comparison and competition, used as a driving force, is a part of who Carmy is, and a part of the kitchens that he has come from. In another context, Sydney would have just been competition. And he’d have been trying to smoke her.
Let’s follow a humble bowl of risotto through THREE EPISODES, and about 5000 words, good GOD.
Tracing the Journey of the Risotto: Unanticipated
I tried to find appetising pics of her cooking the risotto but mostly it doesn't look very aesthetic, so here is Syd in my fave of her scarves.
A Risotto, playing on ‘tongue in cheek’ is first tentatively pitched in Sheridan, as an idea for a new menu that they have ‘spoken about’. Carmy is… noncommittal. He’s not into it, but he doesn’t say that, he just doesn’t really engage. I think there are a bunch of valid reasons to not be into it, tbh. I’ve ordered risotto to go. It’s always kind of gluey and disappointing. Sydney isn’t given a clear no, so she decides to cook it: it becomes something she has to convince him on.
He doesn’t get to try it in this episode as there are drugs to sell and about a million different fires to fight. We know that she dreams about this dish though. In this episode she talks about how thinking about her mistakes with Sheridan Road keep her up at night, but the last images of the episode are of her dreaming: beef… raspberries… cola… fire: there it is. Cola braised short rib. We’re back in the realm of deeply personal creative expression that I spoke about in part two. That anxious energy around failing with Sheridan Road? Is going somewhere else, is being transformed. This is important, and has the potential to be profoundly healing. This dish has meaning for her.
The dish returns in Ceres. Syd is an unstoppable force with the dish, and having said she wants to be listened to, is not listening to several requests from Carmy for more time. Stressful! He deals with it well, at first. He is calm, and polite and asks her to hold on. Which is not a no. But then -
‘I know everybody you used to work for, I called them before hiring you’
oooooh weeee.
There is nothing wrong with him seeking out references. His reasons are logical, and he’s transparent about them. Personally? I think it’s sensible to let employees know you’re seeking out references to avoid paranoia, but it’s not a legal requirement. People do it informally via whisper networks all the time, both purposefully and by accident. Gotta say though, the phrasing and the timing of this ‘reveal’ made me wince.
There are a million different theories of feedback, of how to give and receive it well. One argues that feedback must be asked for, accurate and measurable. If it’s not measurable, then you are nitpicking. If it’s not accurate, you’re hating. If it’s not asked for, or at least delivered in an environment where it’s anticipated, it is unlikely to be received well. Carmy, unfortunately, delivers a whopper of unanticipated feedback here: ‘me and all your old bosses (I know EVERYONE YOU USED TO WORK WITH)have been talking about you and they all agree on this flaw’.
YIKES
Would I let Syd stab me for a bowl of this? Maaaaybe. Maybe.
My reading is that he wanted to ask for her patience, and to say that his decision to pace out the changes is coming from experience, but he’s being backed into a corner, so he summons up the spectre of her old bosses for back up. Syd had opened up last episode, and is still very vulnerable about Sheridan, so he unintentionally wounds her here. We can read this in her response. He says her employers said she was smart, talented, green and impatient, she hears ‘me and everyone you’ve worked for think your business failed because you were green and impatient, that’s why you’re here, and why this dish can’t go on the menu’. This dish is getting entangled in so many other things about where they’ve come from.
He does take the time to reframe it: outlines his practical concerns, and starts to articulate that he wants to maintain calm before they make more changes -
And then Sugar is banging on the door, demonstrating his point.
At this point, Carmy is trying to build a parachute. They don’t have one when Jimmy comes to visit in Hands, but they do have one that becomes Richie’s bail by Braciole. Reserve building takes steady, dull consistency, but this isn’t communicated, and they don’t agree on a timeframe for the menu development, or even to come back to this conversation. This is small stuff, I know I sound nitpicky! But in my experience managing people, tension builds in the unknowns, in the places where there aren’t specifics, especially when you have a team member like Sydney who is ambitious and dynamic.
Sydney is firmly in the realm of the job that Carmy specified here. He is dialling business, she is doing everything else. If you’re a nerd and you zoom in on her CV, she has done menu development before. She is green, but not that green. She is impatient, but she also doesn’t have the same complicated relationship with change at the Beef that pretty much everyone else but Marcus does. The risotto is the first unofficial test of the impact of strain on their (messy ass) working dynamic, to Review’s much more official gauntlet.
Why would they write a proper CV and film it if they didn't want me to spend 5 minutes hitting pause repeatedly until I'd read it?
*squints* designed daily specials with complete creative control! At Alinea! A THREE STAR MICHELIN RESTAURANT! At the time they wrote this, it had held and retained those stars for twelve years! She is not new to this!
Tracing the Journey of the Risotto Two: Unmeasurable
They try again with the risotto later. She is a little more patient, initially. She makes the effort and he thanks her for it. He tries it, which she really wanted (surely that will convince him!), and she has modified her request, from to-gos, to trying it as a special. Her equivalent of baby steps. She listened. She’s trying. Lovely Angel and my main man Ebra come by, taste and support Carmy’s ‘tremendous’.
But here Carmy gives feedback that isn’t measurable. It’s not perfect, but he doesn’t say why, even though he knows, and it’s an easy fix! He’s nitpicking, because he doesn’t, for a bunch of practical reasons, want to put risotto on the menu, but doesn’t want to shoot her down. He asks her if she understands after she has explicitly said that she doesn’t (cus he’s not being up front), and then doesn‘t explain himself. He’s not really asking if she understands, he’s telling her to stop. It’s not really the dish that’s not ready, not really, it’s him, he’s not ready to make a new raft of changes, to think through the gap between the Michelin star excellence he has come from, and the budgetary, practical restrains of where he’s at.
I think this is really fair. Or at least understandable. Carmy just wants to catch a breath, and he has to have oversight on so many different things at once, adding something else to that must feel terrifying. But the way he communicates this shuts down and restricts: he switches the dynamic from one where they listen to each other (which requires that they both explain themselves) to one where he tells and she does. It doesn’t really give her anywhere to go, so her frustration is inevitable and also understandable. Measurable feedback! Clarity. If you don’t want risotto on the menu Carmy, rip the band-aid, and say it, and say why. Get her to work on something that is going to fit with the menu in a different way, in the way that you want, and be clear about the way in which you want to shape it!
He knows he’s not been great here. Carmy apologises for ‘being shitty’ later in the episode (as others have noted, it’s a shit apology) and he also starts his apology with ‘needs acid’ in 1:8. He knows that a lot of Review is to do with this dish.
When Carmy apologises about being shitty later in Ceres, she doesn’t mention that she put the dish out earlier. It’s framed as a little moment of.. if not revenge, then a little something for herself. I think she knows it’s not OK, not really, or she’d have mentioned it, and her face says a lot when she says it’s cool. I’m not a chef, I only ever worked FOH, but my instinct is that its dodgy and it fills me with unease. A grey area. A pop of tension.
Tracing the Journey of the Risotto Three: Hating
Whenever I think about the strikes, I think about the broader ensemble in this show.
The next time the risotto turns up, it’s being mentioned in a review. A lot happens here, so I’m gonna bullet point out all the references, then analyse some of them afterwards. I’m also gonna jump a whole bunch, cus I want to stay tightly focused on the risotto itself, and the dynamic between Syd and Carmy as relates to it:
Ebra reads the review out!
Syd has a lovely, gentle smile for Ebra as he reads it, her whole body relaxes as she taps at the tablet. This validation clearly means a lot to her. Ebra’s dynamic with both Sydney and Marcus is consistently a joy to behold. When he tells her in Dogs that she’s given Marcus a lot of confidence, she glows, and I think it’s something she really needed to hear. He’s subtle about it, but he never makes her life difficult when she implements the brigade. There’s something about the oldest member of the team, reading the review out, a little haltingly cus English isn’t his first language, that doubles down on the love that can be present in the Beef, making it all the more jarring when –
Carmy cuts across this and starts talking about the day’s opening with a ‘stop reading that shit’
Fam ‘that shit’ just described your food as elevated and elegant! In the foodie heaven that is Chicago! In your restaurant which is kind of failing! It’s your team’s first review since you’ve been there! So straight away you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because what has got his knickers in a twist?
Carmy is justified in being pissed off about Syd’s actions here. What he is not justified in, is not finding a way to celebrate the review itself with his team, who deserve to have this moment. It’s a milestone for them to get some external validation, and the restaurant, quite frankly, needs it. A five star review! Tina squeals with delight when she hears it. Before a new program and a busy shift is the perfect moment to read this out, and go into the work feeling good. A united, gassed up team? Would have killed those to gos.
Sydney is also responsible for this messiness though. In going rogue the episode before, something which could have been about the team becomes about her in a way that is sticky, and it becomes harder to celebrate. It was not her intention, but this is the outcome.
Ebra ignores Carmy
(cus he’s redundant and white JK JK don’t cancel me)
There is a double edged shout out to the team
‘the staff moves are next level’: this is such brilliant, important feedback from a team that has had to weather so much change! Also calls back to Richie: ‘Uh oh, Sydney making moves!’ in the car in Hands.
‘The sandwiches are so delicious as ever, but the standout dish that... that, that encapsulates all, this was the risotto with braised beef. The rice was luscious with a surprising ribbon of brine running through the sauce. The chef obviously knew what she was doing’
THAT REVIEWER IS A SNITCH
Did Syd know that reviewer was a reviewer? I dunno man. Maybe! She’s Chicago born and bred, knows the food scene well. It’s not outside of the realm of possibility that she’d recognise him. Maybe she just wanted some good immediate feedback, while she was feeling shitty! Maybe all she wanted was him to send a message back to the kitchen that’s like tell Syd the risotto was great: the impact of his Review but on a much smaller, less disruptive scale.
I think it’s genuine coincidence, which unfortunately looks… not like that. The thing is: the reviewer being a reviewer isn’t what the issue is. The issue is giving food not signed off by her boss to a customer. She'd have never gotten away with that at the places where she was before. Putting the dish out is going rogue, regardless of who she gives it to. It’s not a team move. If Carmy called in her old bosses for back up, she calls in his potential new customers. Eek. EEK.
Sydney desperately tries to get Ebra to shush, to no avail
(extremely funny work from Ayo, but also he’s pissed, and she either already knows it, or already antipates it – it’s hard to get a read on how long they’ve been in and when they learnt about the review)
‘river of brine, huh?’
Carmy, you little snark!!! This is very much his wheelhouse of expressing displeasure, he loves a little jab to the emotional solar plexus. My reading of his line is that what the reviewer tried and what Carmy tried are different, because if it had a ribbon of brine in it, I think that means that there was enough acid. Syd has two dishes, and she’s specific about Carmy trying one and not the other, so my reading here is that Carmy’s POV is not only did a dish go out of my kitchen without my sign off, but it was different from the dish I was given to try. Wince. Wince, wince, wince.
Sydney and Carmy have a fucking excruciating conversation.
Just the worst.
Carmy is not happy, but feels unable to voice this in a way that seems reasonable: he’s busy and stressed about to-gos, he hasn’t moved past the unreasonable feelings of resentment and annoyance to the clarity which enables you to articulate how you feel and why, and because Syd’s gamble paid off! It’s a net positive for the restaurant so it feels counterintuitive to reprimand her, but there is a conversation they need to have. He really does not want to have this conflict, because it’s complicated, and is, like most big blow outs over something small, about so much more than a plate of risotto. He breezes over the conversation, but you can’t start with that ribbon of brine opener and then tell me shit’s not weird.
Compare this to Brigade, when Sydney is asked what’s up, and she is brave enough and vulnerable enough to be like – here are the things that weren’t OK, here are my expectations, here are my boundaries.
On the other side of the conversation, Sydney knows that she has slipped across a slightly odd boundary, but doesn’t acknowledge this. It’s good he liked it! All’s well that ends well. Right? RIGHT? But if he hadn’t? Very different conversation. It doesn’t matter who he is! He could have been anyone - someone that left a weird Instagram comment later, or someone who didn’t finish the meal and complained. Whatever the case may be, giving it to him unofficially was not an act of partnership, or listening, even if the initial communication was shitty.
She knows she’s overstepped, but she doesn’t apologise and doesn’t acknowledge the specifics of what she’s done wrong, because she does not want to have the conflict that could come out of this either. She seeks affirmations that they are OK rather than trying to actually find out how Carmy feels and why, because at this point she doesn’t really want to hear it. She is seeking this conversation out 20 minutes before open! It’s not the time for a thorny, complex discussion.
Compare this to Brigade. Carmy knows Sydney is pissed, and makes the effort to speak to her, in private, armed with the peace offering of Ebra’s Suqaar. He is very careful in that conversation to ask open questions (‘what’s going on with you? Say more?’) that enable her to respond honestly. He persists despite her having her walls up around the fact that she’s pissed. Sydney does not do this. The power dynamic makes it hard, but still. If she wants the connection needed to power reconciliation, that bravery needs to be in play.
are you sure we can't just power through this with sexual tension?
Sweeps congratulates her and tells her she’ll have to tell her dad
Hope Mr Adamu got a newspaper clipping!
Carmy says the sandwiches are totally different and the reviewer is a fucking hack. Syd looks sad.
This moment is why I opened this essay talking about veal stock. We are back in a moment with a gap between what has been said, and what has been heard. The reviewer said the sandwiches were delicious as ever. That’s not a criticism at all! These are not words that justify being called a hack! Carmy is pissed because the reviewer says they are delicious and they always have been, that Carmy has not improved on the staple that was there before him.
And that shit hurts his ego!
His whole thing was going off to learn ‘how to be better than mom and dad’s piece of shit’. We know he’s changed a bunch of things about the sandwiches. In Hands, Sydney mentions that they’ve switched to market produce, which I’m sure is not unrelated to Richie’s ‘You’ve been here for two weeks and we’ve had money problems for two weeks’ in System. In Carmy’s time there, the bread’s changed, the method for cooking the beef has changed, the way they braise onions has changed.
To that customer? Delicious as ever.It’s not a dismissal, or an insult. It is a reminder that Carmy didn’t have to leave, and go through all he went through, that there was delicious food and skills to be learned and refined without it. We know Michael was a talented chef. Even now, with all of where he’s been, Carmy cannot surpass him or his memory.
The person that does surpass that? Is Sydney. With food his palate did not deem good enough! Sydney who has not had to leave Chicago and her family. Sydney who has found a way to be creatively free, even at The Beef, in ways that Carmy has not really been able to, because his primary concern has to be money. There is understandable resentment here. But there is competition to the way Carmy cooks, something to prove, someone to smoke. There are reasonable feelings here, but some of them are really ugly, too.
Tina describes Syd as Jeff’s friend
This is a strange little line – because we know that Tina respects Syd as a chef at this point, and she doubles down on it later when she asks Syd to teach Louis skills, like she herself has been taught. So why’s it there? My feeling is that it’s there to remind the audience of what Syd and Carmy’s relationship is usually like. I wouldn’t call it friendship, I think they operate in a weird place that defies labels, but they have this synergy which drives the business. Tina evoking that in this moment draws attention to the fact that they are not in that space right now.
He's just got a very sweet face, it's hard for me to believe he's in trouble at school
Richie has a loud, performative conversation with Carmy about many things, but for the purpose of this section, he states that they don’t do risotto, asks if they’re going to, and Carmy definitively states that ‘no, they’re not going to do that’ he also repeats Syd’s phrasing that it was ‘an accident’
She stabbed the wrong ass if you ask me!
Nah, but for real, this is nasty work. I’m gonna come back to it in the next (penultimate!) bit of writing about the Beef, the Bear, Richie & Michael, Syd & Carmy. For now, I will simply say that Carmy is doing up major pass agg here, and it’s nasty to watch. He’s really, really unhappy with her, and he’s struggling to hold it in, so it’s coming out in unhelpful and unpleasant ways that feel like humiliations in front of the whole team, and punishment.
There are really valid reasons for Carmy to be annoyed and to not want to talk about it right now. The problem is that If you don’t create a pressure valve you take responsibility for, you will end up a) exploding instead (lol) and/or b) releasing that frustration in unhelpful and harmful ways.
They move towards this with their ASL sorry in Season Two. But here, Carmy says and implies a bunch of things to Richie that he needed to say explicitly to Syd two episodes ago, and two minutes ago: that he has no intention of putting risotto on the menu, and that he thinks her saying it was an accident was bullshit. He wants Syd to know it’s not OK without the hard, painful work of having to engage in conflict with her. It’s shitty.
Sweet Louis asks what a ribbon of brine is
He seems like a good boy, bring him back!
A BUNCH OF STUFF THAT I WILL WRITE ABOUT NEXT TIME HAPPENS
Richie, Syd and Carmy, it’s delicious (a nightmare).
Syd attempts a second conversation with Carmy – having vented some frustration at Richie, and seeing how her workload is piling up and becoming untenable, she is much more open here. Carmy is not.
She’s blunt – we’re not on the same page. Carmy lies and deflects – we’re good, let’s get through the shift. He has his hands on his hips, with as much of his body turned away from her as possible, during this conversation, and walks off half way through it. Even if everything had gone right, this shift would have been a nightmare for Syd.
Everything is awesome!
The penultimate mention of the risotto is here. There is very little I can say that has not been brilliantly said by eatandsleepwell here - https://www.tumblr.com/hourglassfish/726487509540962304/eatandsleepwell-melonatures-this-one-second?source=share so I’m gonna link it.
That’s the last we hear of risotto for now, other than a quick reference to Syd as an arrogant and condescending ribbon of brine from Richie later. It doesn’t turn up on the tasting menu at the Bear, where it defo feels like a riff on risotto could have replaced one of their pasta dishes. That switch from rice to pasta feels pointed.
Spaghetti
Let’s treat The Beef as a character. If Sydney’s ingredient motif is veal stock, then The Beef’s is that family spaghetti.
Cheap and simple. Fucking delicious. Makes no sense and shouldn’t work, but was somehow the best seller on the menu. Distinctively Italian. Stuffed full of drug money(!). Always, always presented at the table with love, like a gift. You can elevate it if you want, but the fact of the matter is that even at its very best, it’s only gonna hit so hard cus it reminds you of simpler times, like the ratatouille (that is not a ratatouille!) from the movie Ratatouille.
Carmy rejects that meal at the top of the series. It ‘doesn’t make sense on the menu’, so he doesn’t care that people loved it. So far, so EMP. When he starts to cook it in episode one, it feels like a relenting to Richie’s bullying, and him throwing WHAT WE NOW KNOW WAS PROBABLY A FEW THOUSAND DOLLARS in the bin at the end of the episode feels like this exhilarating rejection of mediocrity. They change the lines for System, but in the pilot, Carmy literally cannot make the spaghetti, that last lesson from Michael is a real missing puzzle piece.
In Braciole, when he gets the recipe, he goes to cook it, for family. It’s really nice, that scene, feels comparable to Sydney making omelette. It’s quiet, and Carmy seems content, if wistful. The pork instead of beef panic of earlier is put to the side for now. The previous day, Carmy has gone to Al-Anon and confessed, unburdened himself. Then followed two quiet days and a blue hued night of atonement: he reaffirmed his commitment to Richie, paying his bail and keeping watch all night, gave Tina the night off, apologised to Marcus and acknowledged that his behaviour towards Sydney wasn’t acceptable, as well as speaking to her about her dish, like an adult. Carmy has to do all of this before he finds the money, before he gets the validation that he’s really longing for from his brother.
JAW getting his Emmy, his Golden Globe, his SAG Award, his Bafta, his future Oscar Winning role.
If The Bear at its core is about grief, and the void that Michael’s death leaves, then one of the big journeys of Season One is the subsequent death of the Beef, ready for its rebirth as The Bear in the following season. Review is the short sharp stab to the gut, of Sydney leaving, and taking any hope that it can be reformed as is, with her work. I don’t think the nature of a puncture wound, and the shortness of that episode are unrelated.
Braciole is more of a death rattle: Jimmy’s debt keeping them trapped in shitty work they don’t want to do, situations that spiral out of control and descend into violence, their parachute turned to bail money. But Michael wanted more for his brother than that, and he has left him a foundation. He does not have to burn the place down, there need not be smoke and hellfire. There’s another avenue for rebirth, one where ‘set this place on fire’ does not have to mean an insurance scam, but instead can mean an ignition of all their ambition and dreams.
To get there there has to be an ego death first, a moment of hubris that gets our protagonists fresh, and clean, so they can move to the new. Sydney sees and experiences the worst of herself (more on this in the final part!). Richie gets stabbed (more on this in the next part).
Carmy? Carmy has to encountera crisis where not only could his training not save him but many of the lessons he learnt while he was away and his reasons for going in the first place actively made the situation worse, and those that had faith in him and his preferred system turned away from him, deeply hurt. His ego gets in the way of connection, and it shatters the partnership that he needs to make it all work. He is clinging to old ways of being that has not served him, but he needs to move forward into what is new. And he does.
Well.
He tries.
SMDH
WHEW
Another long one, sorry fam. I’m almost there though. Am I sorry? No, I’m grateful if you read it, and I hope you enjoyed it.
I hope I’m pulling this together coherently, that I’m showing a sort of throughline to the way I view Episode 7. I don’t think Sydney is perfect! I do think her walking out is narratively and politically (the show wants better for the workplaces its drawn from) necessary, and I hate, hate, hate the simplification of that decision to ‘he shouted at her so she bailed’. Please, you can’t think this show is well written and think her decision is as simple as that, it doesn’t make sense. That exit is crafted so that it is inevitable, there is a movie’s worth of build up to it.
We’re looking at Richie, Syd and Carmy next time, fam. I am trying so hard to cut it down cus it’s currently sat at 15,000 words, but I’m gonna try really hard to edit down, OK? I’m gonna try really hard.
I can’t respond but I value reblogs and comments so much!
This is part of a five part series! You can find the rest here:
Expect More: Syd and Carmy's relationship,
I know you'll be listening: Marcus, McDonald's and Freedom
Risottogate
Hiring New Fucking Broads: Syd, Richie and conflict;
"That's Not You" The Moment Syd Walks Out
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