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miyuhpapayuh · 3 days ago

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Right back.

“Hey, Cliff!”

Her deep wine stained lips catch his attention, before his eyes travel to her attire, making him lick his own.

Who knew blue and cheetah print went together. She honestly could pull off anything, and he never shied from telling her such.

“Always a pleasure, gorgeous.” He flirts, pulling her in for a hug as she inhales his heavenly scent like always. He thought it was cute.

“I missed you!”

“They always do,” he jokes, wincing at the slap she delivers to his arm.

“I'm joking,” he laughs. “I missed you too, girl.”

“Yeah, tryna play me like one of ya lil groupies,” she rolls her eyes.

“Never that. You know you was always my favorite.”

“Your favorite, what?” She raises a brow, waiting on his slick ass to answer.

He chuckles, his pink tongue chasing his toothpick around his mouth as he watches her grow a tad more impatient.

“My favorite lil boo,”

“Damn, how many you got?” She asks, not missing a beat.

He laughs again, earning another slap to the arm.

“Well shit, after you ran off on me,” he holds his heart, making her sigh, “I found somebody else to roll with for a bit, but it ain't last.” He shrugs.

“Aw, she was boring, huh?” She smirks.

“Ah, she was cool. Pretty, too. She was no you, tell ya that,” he winks.

“Nobody's me, Cliff.”

“That's what I missed, girl.”

“Mmhm… you really be telling people I ran off on you??” She asks, not forgetting what he had said.

“Nah, my people know it was mutual,” he assures, “I just wanted my moment.”

“I knew you had a little bit of sense,” she smiles, shaking her head.

“Ha ha. Anyway smart mouth, who got you out the house?”

“I like parties, sometimes! The host and I share a mutual friend and she passed along the invite. Plus who wouldn't wanna use an excuse to show some skin?”

“Mmhm, I told you, you looked good right?”

“Soon as you saw me,” she smirks. “But say it again.”

He chuckles, grabbing her hand to kiss it.

“You look better than Janet Jackson, girl.”

“Ooh, not Janet!” She giggles, swatting him as soon as he releases her hand.

“Shit, I'm serious. Tryna give me a heart attack and shit.”

“Mmhm, come make me a drink and maybe I won't cut you.”

A couple hours into her being in his presence and she was already in trouble.

If it was possible, he's even more fine! And whatever he had on, she was ready to lick it off.

Maybe she was ovulating or something, but she was ready to pounce on him.

“You make this outfit?” He asks, snapping her out of her daze.

“Of course, these boutiques don't have my taste!”

“Mm, and tasty you are.” He smirks, placing his blunt back between his lips.

“Don't start nothing, Cliff,” she laughs, crossing one leg over the other.

“Nothing I can't finish.” He responds, passing her the blunt.

“Well whatchu tryna do?”

He looks her up and down, before darkly chuckling.

“You.”

“Don't.. stop.. fuckin… me, babyyyy!”

Bent over the side of the couch with her skirt up and panties missing, she buries her face into the pillows below her as Cliff fucks her with the most deliciously bruising force.

“Mmf, I missed the fuck outta you, girl,” he grits out, smacking her ass a few times, smirking at his hand print on her brown skin.

“Fucckkk!”

“You missed me too, baby?” He asks, grabbing her neck from behind.

“Ye– yes!” She squeaks out, reaching back to grip his thigh, melting as he grinds into her.

Bending her arm to her back, he thrusts upward, finding what he calls the sweet spot.

Her muffled moans kick into high gear as her arch falters, making him taunt and coo at her.

“Right here, baby? Daddy hittin’ that sweet spot?”

Turning her head to the side to breathe, she whines and weakly nods as he moves his hand to her back, reinforcing her arch, precisely hitting her spot.

“Yes, right there… fuck, that feels s-so good!” She squeals, squeezing her eyes shut at the sensation overload.

“So good,” he moans back, speeding up and knocking the air from her lungs again, making her see stars a little earlier than she planned.

“B-baby, I'm c-cumming!”

“I got you baby, let it out,” he groans, almost following suit as she grips him tight, throbbing something vicious.

“Fffffuckkk,” she moans, squeezing her thighs together as he continues to dip into her sticky center.

“Keep that ass just like that,” his hips moving quicker, damn near making her eyes cross as she continues holding on for dear life with her free arm.

She wasn't even sure how she ended up folded up on his couch.

He just looked so good, yapping about how much he missed her. Couldn't get her and her sweet pussy outta his head.

Next thing you know, she was thanking god that he lived in a house and not an apartment, cause no way they would have went without a noise complaint.

“Who you fuck when I was gone?” He asks, swatting her ass.

“He wasn't you,” she whines.

“Mm,” he pulls her up from the cushion, while still stroking her, “he wasn't, huh?”

Her fingers are now curled around the pillows, as she fervently shakes her head. His hands grip her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“He couldn't fuck me like you do,”

“Mmm,” he growls right into her ear, making her eyes flutter shut. “He don't get up in them guts like me?”

“Deeper, baby, deeeper,” she moans as he bottoms out and sits there, driving her crazy.

“Where's it at?”

“In my chest,” she breathlessly laughs, making him do the same before moving his hips again.

“Oh, that's my spot,” she moans, biting into her lip as his hand finds her neck, bending her backwards a bit.

“Couldn't find them spots either, hm?” He teases, listening to the way her slick sounds against the slapping of his dick.

“N-noo, fuck! Oh my goodness, that's so good!”

“So good, you gon cum for me, baby?”

“Yess, don't stop!”

How many times did he make you cum?”

“Onnnce,” she ends on a hiss, eyelids too heavy to hold up anymore as the pleasure begins rushing up her toes.

“What a shame.” He says, smirking like she can see him.

Pounding into her a bit harder, she reaches back to grip his thigh, cursing up a storm as she wets up his lap.

Moving his other hand from her hip to her hair, he continues on, making her stomach knot back up.

“Ohmygo–fuck, fuckkk,”

“Cummin’, again?”

“Yes!”

“Wet that shit up,” he commands, smacking her ass again.

She'd lost count of how many times he made her cum, barely able to formulate a coherent thought at this point.

He had a point to prove and was past the point of driving it home. This was torture.

“C-can't take it!”

“Why not?”

“T-tooo much!”

“Too deep?” He taunts, dipping into her shallowly.

She whines at the difference, pushing back on him.

“Nooo!”

“Mhm, come on,” he moves her to straddle him, spreading his arms out on the back of the sofa, while she roams her hands up and down his massive chest.

He let her do her thing as she rocks her hips, sliding up and down with ease, due to how wet he had her.

She watched as his head fell back, his favorite curse word falling from his lips like a chant every time she came down, squeezing him on the way back up.

“Fuuuuck, sweet ass pussy…”

“You missed it, daddy?”

“Mmf,” his heavy hand comes down on her ass, “more than anything, baby.”

Turning her up, she begins bouncing, smirking at his tightening grip on her ass. The squelch of her juices echoes off the wall, along with his grunts.

Next thing she knew, she was holding onto his broad shoulders as he fucked her while standing up, rutting her up and down on his dick.

Her head lolls about like it's independent from her neck, her nails dig into his back as he rocks her absolute world.

“Fuck! Can't st-stop cumming!”

“Good,” he grunts, “don't you fucking stop,”

Their skin slaps roughly as he lifts her with ease, splitting her so deep and delicious, making her holler like she lacks all sense.

Her thighs are tightly wrapped around him, ankles loose and twisting at the intense pleasure rushing through her veins.

Her screams and howls of pleasure gradually fade into hoarseness, as he carts her off to his bed, where she's laid on her back, gagging as he fucks her face.

Heavy hands braced on her throat, he stares down at her teary eyes and winks.

“Can't forget that sweet mouth,” he groans, squeezing his knuckles against her skin.

She purrs back at him, slinking her hand between her legs, rubbing at her soaked slit.

“Look atcha,” he chuckles, smacking her ass, “rub that pussy while I bust all in this throat.”

Her fingers found a sinful rhythm, while he rutted away, digging his free hand into the sheets as he released.

“Mmmmm,” she moans at his taste, stroking him with her free hand, her tongue still swirling around his sensitive tip as her fingers slip through her slimy folds.

“Fuck, baby… shit,” he jerks, smacking her hand away as he steps back, shaking his head at her.

She flips over on her stomach, staring up at him. Still hungry for more.

"Definitely ain't done with that ass," he says with a laugh.

@megamindsecretlair @blowmymbackout @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @henneseyhoe @abeautifulmindexposed @blackerthings @dbaileyblog @theereina @dabratzchronicles @starcrossedxwriter @soufcakmistress @xo-goldengirl @avoidthings @nayaesworld @thegifstories

#method man #method man smut #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #smut #black writers

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brawberryz · 1 day ago

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You think i'm weird?

Damian Wayne × BatSis! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You had noticed that Damian was more distant than usual, his self-centered personality and confident tone had almost completely disappeared

You weren't stupid, you knew something was wrong, you were his older sister, maybe you had different mothers and were raised in different environments but that doesn't mean you didn't understand

You said you were going to confront him on the next patrol, you needed answers and as the excellent detective you were, you were going to get them

"Is there something bothering you?"

You said suddenly as the two of you sat in front of a building, it was the right time to talk, there was no one who could interrupt.

"What do you mean?"

Damian asked as if he didn't know what you meant.

"You're acting strange, like something was bothering you..."

You said as you stared at him, you knew something was wrong, maybe you didn't say it all the time but you cared too much for him, maybe sometimes you fought and it seemed like you wanted to kill each other and sometimes it was true, but still there was a part of your head that hated the idea that he, your brother, your little brother was in danger or sad.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Damian seemed to simply ignore the subject and want to change the conversation, your brow furrowed at such a response.

"I'm not stupid, Damian, tell me what's wrong? Did you fight with dad again or what?"

You sat a little closer to him, you were going to find out what was wrong with Damian even if it would take you a thousand years

"It's not that, it's just that..."

His voice trailed off in the middle of the sentence, he was hesitating to tell you, he seemed downcast, that wasn't the Damian you knew, he would never have doubted anything

"You... you think I'm weird?"

A laugh came out of your lips and you started laughing like crazy, Damian had never seen you laugh so much in his life as now

"WHAT ARE YOU MAKE FUN OF, STUPID!, ugh I knew I shouldn't tell you, you never take anything seriously"

Damian crossed his arms looking at you angrily, I didn't understand what was funny about the situation, he was telling you something personal and you just... you just laughed!?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But seriously I've never heard anything so funny in my life"

You tried to stop laughing, you wiped away a tear that fell from your eye before you could speak

"Seriously you ask, of all people you ask me that?"

You said ironically looking at Damian, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked away

"Damian, we are vigilantes, there is nothing normal in our life, the strange thing would be if something was normal, you are literally the son of a very dangerous assassin and I am the daughter of a villain"

You let out a small laugh while saying that, but you saw that Damian's mood didn't change so you decided to get serious

"But hey, seriously, if you are weird but so what? We are all weird and you shouldn't be ashamed of that, I could say that I am weirder than you and I don't care"

Damian was surprised by your words, it was the first time he saw you talking seriously, he always thought you were too stupid and childish but what you just said really surprised him

"Thanks... I think"

"You're welcome, but don't be ashamed of being weird, let's be weird together, what do you think?"

You said giving him a smile as you put your arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to you, it was the first time you had gotten so emotionally close to Damian, you thought he hated you or something but apparently it was far from reality

"That... that's fine with me"

For a second you could see a small smile on Damian's face, that made your heart feel good

A few minutes passed before Damian spoke again

"You dare tell someone about this conversation and I'll cut your throat"

And there he was again the same old Damian, well at least those were the best minutes of your life before Damian went back to being Damian

"Whatever you say, Mr. weirdo"

You let out a laugh as you said those words

"I'M SERIOUS, YOU DARE TO TELL SOMEONE AND I'LL KILL YOU!"

Damian spoke angrily, punching you in the arm

"Hey! That's enough, but stop doing it... HEY, STOP IT, IT HURTS!!"

You shouted, trying to dodge Damian's punches. God, I think you missed the emo Damian...

I imagine the relationship between Damian and BatSis! Reader like that of gumball and anais, i love writing about them, they are so silly

(*^▽^)/★*☆♪

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xoxo-sarah · 3 days ago

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A Chance

My Wife part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

↝pairing: Season1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: things are rough between Daryl and Reader, death, cursing, arguing, walkers, ect. The usual twd stuff, angst, reader wears Daryl's clothes ( but as a big girl myself, we can just ignore how he's a twig and that's most likely unrealistic 🫡), not proofread

↝⎙ 1.30.25

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

Daryl Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Daylight broke and Andrea hadn't moved.

Daryl grumbled about Amy turning, but you quickly shot him down each time. People grieve in different ways. Andrea knew what she had to do when the time came.

"Y'all can't be serious." Daryl huffed, watching Andrea through squinted eyes, "Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a time-bomb." He seethed.

"Daryl," You glared up at him, rubbing the scratch on your upper arm. "Don't be insensitive."

"We ain't got time for this." He seethed, glaring back at you.

You stood, "She lost her sister, not her smarts. She knows what to do."

He stepped closer, putting his weight on one leg, slightly slouching to be eye level with you. Maybe he was trying to be intimidating, but it didn't work. You had seen the dark, sad parts of him. He will never be able to scare you or berate you with actions or words. "And if she don't?"

"What do you suggest?"Rick questioned Daryl, stopping the oncoming argument.

Daryl stepped closer to Rick, bringing his fingers to his temple, "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori spoke up, "For God's sake, let her be."

Dary scoffed before walking off. In turn, you eyed the back of Andrea's head. She knew what she had to do, right? You hoped so.

Pulling your eyes away from her, you looked around at all of the bodies. Most were people who you had just seen, laughing and eating. Others were the dead that had wandered from the city.

Shutting your eyes, your hand automatically went to your wrist, the tightly woven thread helping to ground you. Your fingers traveled down to your left hand, the wedding ring soothing against your fingertips, a contrast to the thick thread of the collar/ bracelet on your wrist.

Daryl looked up as he helped drag a body across the ground. He watched you, watched your movements; a desperate search for comfort.

- time skip -

Daryl stomped away, not understanding why Amy and Jim were not being taken care of. They were "ticking time bombs". They were liabilities. In the new world, there was not time to grieve. Sneering at the thought, he yanked the tent flap back, watching you jump, immediately wiping under your eyes.

His eyes trailed over you in the silence of the moment. You needed comforting. He wanted to comfort you. He really did. But he had a feeling those tears were his doing. He shouldn't have taken his frustration out on you, knowing you had witnessed something horrific.

The tent opening fell down as he walked away.

Your hands instantly went back to your face, muffling the sobs that raked your body.

Sweat had mixed with the dirt and grime, caking your skin as you helped bury the bodies. The bright sun beat down, causing you to squint.

Daryl kept an eye on you from a distance. Neither of you had uttered a word to each other since the morning. You were both too stubborn.

Backing his truck up, bodies in the bed of it, Daryl caught sight of you looking up through the side mirrors. Just as quickly, you looked away and got back to digging, ignoring Rick and Shane's argument to your left. Turning the truck off, Daryl jumped out, slamming the door.

He made his way to where you, Rick, and Shane were digging holes for the friends you had light the night prior. "I still think it's a mistake not burning these bodies. It's what we said we'd do, right? Burn 'em all, wasn't that the idea?"

"At first."

Daryl scoffed, "The Chinaman gets all emotional, says it's not the thing to do, we just follow 'em along? These people need to know who the hell's in charge here- what the rules are."

"And who the hell's in charge, Daryl? It sure as hell ain't you."

Daryl scoffed again, watching as you glared at him, waiting for him to reply, from where you had jumped down in a freshly dug hole.

"There are no rules." Rick countered Daryl's statement.

"Well, that's a problem." Lori walked past Daryl's truck, children and their mothers behind her. "We haven't had one moment to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn, and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do." With that, she turned and walked away, not caring to hear what anyone thought about that.

Feeling disgusting, you had made your way back to the tent. Not having any clothes, you opted for something of Daryl's. His cut shirts weren't ideal, but they were cooling and non-restricting. His old work pants fit loose, but that's not anything string couldn't fix.

Buttoning the second to last button of the dingy shirt, you heard the opening of the tent begin to unzip. You moved to cover yourself, but ultimately relaxed when Daryl stepped in. He looked up, scanning your body before glancing behind himself, making sure nobody had seen you changing from over his shoulder. He zipped the flap back up, before simply standing there. He was slightly hunched over, as were you, thanks to the small tent.

It was silent.

Your fingers went back to the button, as you ignored your husband's presence.

Daryl moved closer, standing behind you. The air around you two changed. His head fell to your shoulder, his own grime mixing with yours. He stayed there, vulnerable. This was his way of apologizing.

Your body relaxed further, sinking back into him. His arms snaked around your middle, holding you close.

"It's okay." You whispered, only loud enough for him to hear, and not to disturb this newfound peaceful atmosphere. He nodded, moving his hands to your hips, turning you around. His fingers made quick work of buttoning the last button for you.

The next morning, everyone was getting ready to leave for the C.D.C. Rick was out in the field, talking to a man named Morgan, the guy who had saved Rick’s life. Lori, Carol, and the kids were helping to load everything into cars. You helped Daryl load up his truck. Hopping onto the tailgate, you helped pull Daryl’s bike up, gently laying it on the truck bed.

“Are ya willin’ to put your life in his hands?” Daryl helped you jump down, glancing at Rick in the distance. Daryl was looking to you for answers. You were always the more level-headed of the two. Daryl would follow you into fire, he’d follow you to the end of the world. And you just might be doing that.

“I think you have to hope there’s a safe place out there. If we don’t hope for it, then we won’t get it. Hope is all we’ve got.” You patted his chest, before walking by him. He watched you, before slamming the rusted tailgate closed.

The wind blew through your hair, cooling your face. Daryl drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other near his mouth as he nipped at his fingernails. The leg that was not being used for the gas and brake pedals slightly shook, a trailer to his nerves. You rode in silence.

“”M sorry–‘bout yesterday.” He spoke up first, biting his thumb nail. You turned your head, looking at his side-profile. He didn’t dare to glance at you.

“I know. I am too. We were both on edge; said some things. It’s alright.”

He nodded, pulling his thumb from his mouth. “Ya think Merle’s alright?”

You thought about it. Daryl had told you what they found on the roof and what they had run into.

“I think he’s a tough fucker to kill.” Daryl let out an entertained huff, “He had enough energy to steal the van, so there’s a high chance he’s okay…maybe.”

Daryl let your words marinate. Letting out a deep exhale, he swapped hands on the wheel, placing his right one of your knee. You moved closer to him, placing your hand over his.

Guilt was eating at you.

You had all left Jim under a tree. Sure, it was per his request, but that didn’t stop the shame bubbling in your gut. Even miles from where he sat, you had a frown on your face, thinking of him. The turning was inevitable. But the thought of him having to sit there and deal with the feeling of his bones being made of glass, cutting into him with the slightest move, having to deal with that all on his own, hurt you.

Daryl felt the tension in the truck. You sat closer to the door, hands in your lap.

His hand moved toward the radio, before cursing himself. That wouldn’t work in the apocalypse

Grumbling, he leaned over, opening the glove box and blindly digging through. Pulling a cassette tape out, he plucked it into the truck, twisting the volume knob.

It’s what Jim wanted, you kept reminding yourself. But it didn’t make you feel any better about yourself. You just hoped he wasn’t in pain for much longer.

Daryl tapped your arm, watching you blink awake. The melody had settled you to a light slumber. Still groggy from sleep, you took in your surroundings. For a moment, you forgot that the world went to shit. The sky was turning a dark orange, sun setting in the distance. But as you sat up in the seat, you could see the bodies on the ground, bugs buzzing above them.

“Wanna get out?” Daryl stared at you as you looked at the huge building through the windshield. Even more bodies laid in front of the building, flies swarming them. Some bodies were mindlessly wandering around.

This was the C.D.C?

Without giving a response, you opened your door, jumping out. Daryl followed, grabbing his crossbow and a shotgun from the floorboard. Walking around the truck, he pressed the gun to your side, getting your attention. You grabbed it and began following everyone to the building.

The stench alone almost had you hurling.

“Alright, everybody,” Shane began whispering, “Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let’s go.”

The constant buzzing of flies and the horrible smell of decay just might be your own personal hell.

Finally, you were a few feet from the building. Rick and Shane beat on the roll-up doors.

“There’s nobody here.” T-Dog swayed on his feet, turning to look over his shoulder every few seconds.

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick was holding onto hope; he had to.

“Walkers!” Daryl pulled you by the arm, putting you behind him.

Children screamed, guns cocked, feet shuffled.

“You led us into a graveyard!” Daryl turned, making his way toward Rick. His nostrils flared. Fury behind his eyes.

You stepped in front of him, separating him and what he wanted to do out of anger and frustration.

“He made a call!” Dale interjected.

Daryl rounded you, “It was the wrong damn call!”

Shane stopped Daryl. “Just shut up. You hear me? Shut. Up. Shut up!” He pushed Daryl back, pointing at him.

You quickly walked over, grabbing Daryl’s shoulder before the whole thing could escalate.

Shane turned, walking back to Rick, who still stood at the shutters. “Rick, this is a dead end.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Carol held onto her daughter, but was ignored.

Night was blanketing the sky–fast. You could barely see where the cats were parked from where you stood.

Shane continued, “Do you hear me? No blame.”

Lori acknowledged Carol, “She’s right. We can’t be here, this close to the city after dark.”

“Fort Benning, Rick-still an option.”

“On what?” Andrea stepped forward, glowering. “No food, no fuel. That’s 100 miles.”

“125. I checked the map.” Glenn corrected.

Carl clung to Lori’s legs. She stared at her husband, “Forget Fort Benning! We need answers tonight, now.”

“We’ll think of something.” Rick tried, not meeting his wife’s eyes.

“C’mon!” “Let’s go!” “Let’s get out of here!” Everyone began to make their way back to the vehicles, “Alright, everybody back to the cars. Let’s go, move.”

“The camera– It moved!”

“You imagined it.”

“It. Moved.” Rick didn’t think anything of Dale’s words, walking closer to the camera near the doors. “It moved.”

“Rick, man. It’s an automated device. It’s gears, okay? They’re just winding down. Now come on. Man, just listen to me.” Shane grabbed Rick by his upper arm, trying to drag him away. “Look around this place. It’s dead, okay? It’s. Dead. You need to let it go, Rick!”

Rick pushed Shane off, going to the shutters and beating against them again. He stared up into the camera.

“Rick! There’s nobody here!” Lori yelled.

Rick ignored her, “I know you can hear me!”

Shane began ushering everyone back to the cars. “Everybody get back to the cars, now!”

Rick didn’t budge. “Please, we’re desperate. Please help us.” He begged, “We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left.”

Lori thrusted Carl onto you, seeing as you were the closest to her, and ran over to Rick. She grabbed him. “Rick-”

“We have nowhere else to go-”

“There’s nobody here.”

Rick continued to pound on the doors.

Carl clung tighter to you.

“Keep your eyes open.” Shane ordered.

“If you don’t let us in, you’re killing us! Please!” Rick yelled at the top of his lungs.

Shane went over, pushing Lori away and grabbing Rick by his shoulders. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

Carl pushed himself closer to you, hearing his father so desperate but to no avail.

Rick fought against getting dragged back, still staring into the camera, “Please help us.”

People shouted. Carl’s tears soaked into your /Daryl’s/ pants.

“You’re killing us! YOU’RE KILLING US!”

Shane shoved Rick away, watching his face crumble.

“You’re killing us.”

Your eyes widened, holding Carl closer, as a bright light nearly blinded you. The shutters opened, rolling up slowly. A hissing echoed. Everyone gawked, not knowing what to do.

“Daryl, you cover the back.” Shane ordered. Carl let go, running to his mother.

You cocked your gun, joining Daryl. He glanced at you, a questioning gaze set on you. You simply blinked at him, in shock.

Everyone walked toward the light, looking around and gawking at the interior. It smelt clean, a contrast to the horrid, rotting smell outside.

“Hello? Hello?!”

“Close those doors.”

“Watch for walkers.”

“Hello?”

A gun cocking had the group readying themselves, wildly looking around for the source.

A man stood in the shadows, gun in hand. “Anybody infected?”

“One of our group was. He didn’t make it.” Rick answered the unknown man.

“Why are you here?” The man stepped forward, “What do you want?” He put the gun down, looking at all of your grime-covered faces.

“A chance.”

Part 4 (TBA)

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

#xoxo-sarah 🩷#🐿️#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fanfic series #daryl dixon x wife!reader #daryl dixon x reader angst #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x fem!reader #twd imagines #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic

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drownedthemall · 3 days ago

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sweetness of her laughter

part 1 - predicament

next part

caracalla x noble!reader x geta

a/n - fyi, i am not a writer, but i have been lovinggggg fics about these two, so i felt i needed to write something about them

this is only the introduction, so it's probably boring,,, but i hope you stick around for the next chapters <3

2.8k words

summary - basically, your kingdom is getting ‘conquered’, well that’s what you assume, but in reality they’re there for someone else.

who may that be, and for what reason..?

The sun has barely risen. You stride through the outskirts of the forest with your stede. You immerse yourself in the scenery, noticing the early mornings dew upon the grass and leaves. A chill breeze blows past you. The royal huntsman accompanies you.

You've known him ever since you were a child. He had the King's trust and swore to him to keep you safe from any harm. If not for him, you wouldn’t be able to even hunt or even participate in hunting parties. You know, not a very ‘lady-like’ thing to do as the people remind you of your princess duties. Despite the annoyance of him always being by your side, you’re grateful for his presence. He’s taught you a lot. This pondering quickly gets cut short when you start hearing loud thumping in the distance.

It reminds you of some kind of stampede. Your head snaps toward the huntsman, both of your faces scrunched in confusion.

Your Kingdom isn’t big, not at all. Nor did it have a huge army of soldiers trained from the moment their born. But, your Kingdom is very respected amongst many nations and kingdoms alike. This is because it's known for extravagant celebrations and events, where people gather to escape their worries and seek rest. Due to this, many of the surrounding neighbours prefer to keep the peace alive, wanting to have at least one place of neutrality from all the hostility in the world. However, this fact isn't deterring enough for the Emperors. Why must they care?

The sound of the stampede only gets louder. You and the huntsman stand still, exchanging glances. You speak up, in a hushed tone, “You can’t be serious, do you really think they’d..?” you quiet.

The emperors as of recently have been conquering land all over. With Numidia being their most recent conquest. Who's to say the Kingdom you reside in isn't next? It basically there for the taking.

The man holds his breath, “I haven’t heard any news from the patrolling soldiers at the borders…", he states.

You stay silent, your mind mulling over all kinds of scenarios. None of them ending in a positive outcome.

The man guides his horse to your side, “Princess, please don’t panic, i'm sure this is nothing”, he comforts.

You glare at him, “I need to go back," you huff. You adjust the reigns in your hands, preparing yourself.

“Princess, please stop making this harder than it should be. The King will deal with it, I'm sure of it," he tries reasoning with you.

You ignore him, urging your horse to move forwards. Eventually changing the gait into a gallop. The sound of your own horse's hooves blends in with the rest. You’d thought the huntsman would follow suit, but as you look behind you, he’s gone. You're a bit saddened by this but you carry on.

Your horse strides along the field and edge of the forest, sometimes dipping into the tree-filled land to avoid being noticed. But then abruptly, the stampede stops. All the branches and leaves that are breaking are too loud to bear. ‘Why’d they stop?’, you think to yourself as your heart rate picks up, and cold sweat drips down your temples.

As you slow your pace, you start to strategically manoeuvre through the trees where the view of the palace can be seen. As the brush becomes clearer, you halt. About 500 soldiers stand guard in front of the palace. Technically, not enough men to take the whole entirety of the Kingdom down, but 500 men that are trained under the Roman Empire? Now, that could lead to a different outcome. General Acacius, by the looks of it, is nearing the palace with a smaller group of praetorians behind him. Your breath hitches, what were you to do? What can you do? All these thoughts rage through your mind, all of them barely making sense. With you barely breathing or thinking properly, you plan to enter the palace from a place where you know you won’t be seen. You know of an entrance that is used by servants. It's used by them so that they can tend to their responsibilities without being noticed by the nobles taking part in the celebrations. That is where you were headed towards.

---

The villages and houses scattered around are untouched by the foreign soldiers. The people are unnerved but are biting their tongues. None of the soldiers have stepped foot on their personal land, which sends a message that they’re here for something or someone else. Or that’s what they hope, the people want to avoid bloodshed and are fond of this new ‘diplomatic’ way of dealing with things. Unlike the Romans, they don’t relish in gladiator fights or such brutality.

The guards of the Kingdom surround the throne room, inside and out. The thumps of horses' hooves can be heard in the far distance. Which provides nothing but unease. The King pulls at his face, pacing all around the throne room. It’s all in disarray, with candle holders and tables toppled over.

All of the immediate royal family is gathered there. Your father, mother, and two sisters, except you. His wife tries to ease his nerves, “It’s going to be okay, I’m sure she’s safe”, she places a hand on his shoulder.

“Safe!? Who cares if she’s safe? The issue is that she’s not here." he shouts, "they’ll assume we’re hiding her!”, he snaps, slapping her hand away. She looks hurt by his words and stays silent.

“Why’s she matter anyway? She never partakes in any of these kind of things..?" the eldest daughter says before continuing, "What is the reason for them even coming here?”, asks Celsa. Celsa is the one to inherit the title of Queen. She embodies one. She was quite literally born to be one, destined, no one can deny that. Due to this... many, many suitors have tried to court and wed her. But to no avail.

He takes a breath… “I didn’t think they’d take such offence.” he states blankly. The sound of horses halts just as he says this.

“What?”, the two women say in unison, disbelief clouds their faces. The littlest daughter clings to her mother’s gown, seeking any semblance of comfort. She’s briefly ignored as her mother huffs, “What did you do.”, not asking but demanding an answer.

“What else was i supposed to do?? The two shitheads are looking for Empress’!! The fact they’re BOTH ruling is already unconventional and then they dare to state that ONE Empress would also suffice!”, he loses it, catching his breath, “They’re inviting all kinds of nobility to attend! I may not be perfect, but I'm not subjecting my daughters to such a cruel life to bear.”, he fumbles with his words, clearly regretting his decision as each one leaves his mouth. He pulls at his greying hair, hoping this ends smoothly.

“Why didnt you mention this to me..?” the Queen announces, “I should be aware of such drastic decisions.”

“Oh, stop it. You’re a woman, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t belong meddling in politics”, he mutters, “You’re the reason she’s so defiant” he says referring to you.

His wife was about to retort, but Celsa intervened, “You kept this from me?”, she pouts, “Do you know how many worthless princes have offered to be mine and THE Emperors of Rome are seeking out an Empress and you don’t even dare to ask of my opinion?” her voice becomes louder as her anger pools.

Silence fills the room. All four of them stand in different parts of the room. Tension thick in the air. A new set of footsteps can be heard just outside the palace walls. They all look between each other. The father makes eye contact with Celsa. She awaits for her answer.

---

You had found your way into the palace grounds, weaving through tight secret corridors and halls, trying to reach where your family may be residing in. You heard a ruckus coming from the throne room, that’s where you decided to head, with a place to hide in mind already. The throne room had a balcony-like structure, usually used to announce any important news to the King. You will seek closure there. As you get closer, you can barely make out any of the words being said in that room, with the sound of your heart draining out the voices. It feels like your heart will jump right out of your body.

You shuffle into the balcony, making yourself small, bow in hand. As you position yourself and get comfortable, all you hear from your father is, “The emperors didn’t request for your attendance, Celsa”, he states in a monotone voice, breaking eye contact with your eldest sister. Before you or Celsa could properly register the meaning of his sentence, guards push through the door, announcing the General's arrival. They all straighten out their posture and gather together as they await him to enter the room.

Heavy footsteps of the man can be heard as he nears the King. The King offers him a small smile as a form of greeting, “What brings you here, Acacius, especially at this time of day?” disregarding his title completely. The General takes note of this, “To take that of what your Kingdom owes the Emperors.” he stands with his arms locked in front of him. It's almost as if he's sizing up your father, preparing to eat him whole like a python.

You pull at your bow, the arrow already equipped. You try and keep your breathing steady, focusing on the task at hand.

Your father pulls a face of confusion, “What do you mean, General, I wasn’t aware that I owed them anything.” he states with furrowed brows, “May you remind me?”

As Acacius was about to respond, you took aim. However, you failed to notice the presence of a praetorian behind you. He grabs ahold of you by enveloping your neck in his arms. This forces you to lose aim, and you shoot elsewhere. Everyone's eyes followed the thump. Unfortunately, the curtain had become the victim of your weapon instead. Everyone's eyes shifted from the curtain to the source of who was responsible.

You struggle in his hold, the praetorian shouts “SHE WAS TRYING TO SHOOT YOU, GENERAL!”, trudging in his hold, you retort, “I WAS NOT, BLASPHEMY”. Your family stares at you with their mouths agape. You couldn’t have made the situation any worse.

Acacius is just as surprised, if not for the lack of better judgment, you'd even say he was amused. “Bring her down here” he commands. As the soldier does this Acacius turns to the nobles, “That is who you owe.”, he answers with a smug smirk present in his face.

The father loses all composure and retorts, “This whole ordeal was a request, not a demand, why come to such lengths for my daughter..?”, he huffs defeated. The General raises an eyebrow, “I’m sure you’re aware of how the Emperors are. They don’t take lightly to denial. It only does the opposite.”

Your father denied their request for you to possibly be an Empress. What else could a woman want, right? Is what the Emperors thought, the fact they were denied what they deemed was a gift from the gods ticked the Emperors off, they wouldn’t have cared or paid much attention to you otherwise.

“You know, I was planning to come to some sort of agreement, but I truly cannot overlook what your lovely daughter has just done a moment ago.”, he states “One may call it an attack against the Roman Empire, don’t you think?”

The King looks shocked, “What!? I wouldn’t go that far, I truly had no idea she was planning on doing this. She was gone all morning - i promise, General. I wouldn’t dare do such a thing to you or the Roman Empire, may it never fall and continue to prosper, my daughter will be honoured to have the chance of serving them, yes, indeed, she will!!” he mutters on, barely comprehensible, clearly in a panic, wanting to keep his Kingdoms neutrality intact.

Acacius is entertained, he may have a dislike of bloodshed as of recently, but he really does enjoy instilling fear into good for nothing royals. If he can’t take it out on the Emperors, why not do it on the behalf of them?

Soon, you are brought to stand beside General Acacius. The praetorian holds onto your forearms that are behind your back, trying to keep you still. Eventually, you decided to stop struggling, it wasn’t going to get you anywhere other than your own deathbed. The General's deep, smooth voice pulls your attention, “I hear you were gone all morning, where were you, Princess?” he asks while turning his attention to you.

You almost scoff, if your arms weren’t restrained you’d be using them to bring attention to what you’re wearing. You’re dressed in your hunting gear. It was still a dress, but it was made to be more convenient and comfortable. This was your mother’s decision, ‘if you’re going to do such manly things you mustn’t be confused for one!!’ her voice rings in your head as you’re reminded of the conversation.

“I was out hunting, or at least that was the plan”, you say the last part quieter. Acacius noticed the double meaning, seeing as you were literally aiming to shoot him as if he were your prey. He doesn’t mention it. However, his silence alludes to the thought.

You soon come to realise this, “Woah, not in that way, truly, General.” You state quickly, looking anywhere but his eyes.

He chuckles lightly, and his laugh seems to almost soothe you, “Well, I would suggest your daughter packs her belongings”, he says as he faces the father. Those words form a pit in your stomach as the reality of the situation sets in.

He nods and the mother quickly orders one of the servants to do so. The father then starts, “So, we’re all good, General?” he says hesitantly.

Acacius ponders, “..Well, a little compensation wouldn’t hurt, seeing as i was about to get-” he stops his sentence and points his head in the direction of the arrow.

The King nods an exceeding amount, “Yes, yes, of course, whatever you may ask for, you shall receive, General!”, he answers all jittery.

The general nods, satisfied with the outcome.

On the right side of the King, Celsa can be seen fidgeting with her dress. As they await for the servant, she shouts, “Take me instead!” Everyone stares at her outburst.

She continues “I’m the eldest! Soon to be Queen, I’m the most suited to be Empress, please let my sister be! She’s not fit to rule.”, she announces desperately.

You ignore her snide remark, and then you blink in confusion. What? This whole show of power was for marriage?? If you had known sooner, you really would've laughed. However, the escalation of the situation doesn't bring a smile to your face. Your father hushes her, embarrassed by her mumbling. A couple of servants come rushing in with your belongings ready. This is a sign that it’s time to leave.

Acacius decides to answer your sister first, “If you’re soon to rule, then who else will take your place? We cherish our relations with your beautiful Kindgdom, we wouldn’t want it to fall, and we have no desire to join the two.” He states clearly, offering a proper answer and a semblance of sympathy for her.

He lets the tension of the room remain by staying silent for a few seconds longer. He then bids the King and Queen farewell as he commands the praetorian to lead you outside. You're pushed through the halls of a place you once called home. You didn’t even get a chance to say your own goodbyes. All you were able to do was exchange painful glances.

___

They had a carriage ready for you. How did you not notice it earlier? The journey wasn’t very enjoyable. You felt alone and was anxious to know what awaited you. You were always accompanied by a soldier or sometimes even the General. You thought he was going to treat you harshly because of the attempted... Yeah. But, surprisingly, he was showing you compassion, making sure you were feeling alright. Which seemed nice at first, but then you came to the realisation that he was feeling sorry for you. ‘The emperors really are that bad, aren’t they?’, you thought. The sense of dread basically boiling over.

#caracalla #geta #caracalla x reader #geta x reader #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #female reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #general acacius #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii

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yuyusshinelight · 2 days ago

Text

Dad thoughts feat ATEEZ: I want a brother/sister

♪ This post is about how I think they would be as parents; just that, some thoughts. This does NOT represent any of Ateez's members in any way.

♪ English is not my first language so sorry if there's any mistake.

Vocabulary just in case someone doesn't know:

y/s/n — your son's name

y/d/n — your daughter's name

Byeol — star

Jagi — sweetheart, darling, etc...

Note: Hi my shining stars! Here I come with a new scenario for our boys being dads because I know how much you like those parenting headcanons. I hope you like it and enjoy your reading. Love you all!!!

SEONGHWA

Seonghwa and your daughter were peacefully building their Lego sets together when the older Park decided to have a conversation about that not too little issue you had commented to him when he had arrived at home "I have heard that you want a little sibling, byeol" and the little girl only nodded, not stopping her really important task of mistakenly making the base of the moon on which his half-finished Sanrio doll should lie "And can daddy know why you want a little brother or sister?".

Seonghwa was clearly trying to get your daughter to tell him the same thing you had told him that afternoon without asking her directly. The way you looked at the ground with a soft pout when you told him that your little star had been sad lately for being only child had him worried about the issue being more serious than he though at first.

"I don't like to be alone" At that confession Seonghwa's heart stopped. Perhaps you two had made her feel lonely without realizing it? "But you have mommy and daddy, my love".

"It's not the same... We can't stay together all the time" The sadness with which his beloved daughter said that felt like the most hurtful stab directly into his heart, it even made Seonghwa hate his work for a moment "Daddy and mommy would like to be with you all the time, baby, but—".

"But you can't, I know..." For how his baby had finished his sentence, Seonghwa couldn't help but feel worse, her small but heartbreaking pout could be perfectly appreciated in her sweet voice.

Something in his head snapped.

In the gentlest way he could, the man took his daughter from her seat to put her on his lap and give her that so needed hug he was craving for "Don't you worry, byeol, mommy and daddy will bring you a little brother or sister, okay?" The speed at which her head turned to look him directly in the eyes even scared the poor man with the possibility of a sudden dizziness or some blow to his little girl from such an action but all his worries erased as fast as your daughter moved her head seconds before thanks to the way in which her eyes shone brighter than ever, holding the galaxy itself in those small orbs exactly like his own "Really? It's a promise?".

The excitement on the little girl's face brought out the most tender and sincere smile from Seonghwa who didn't last long to rub his nose against hers, showering her soft cheeks with many kisses "It's a promise, my byeol".

And maybe he should have talked about the sibling thing with you before promising it to your daughter but, let's not lie, Seonghwa knew you better than yourself; the moment he said yes to his daughter he was already counting on you to be more than okay with having a second child. In fact, you were the one who laid Seonghwa on your shared bed after making sure that your child was peacefully asleep on her own to ride him like never before until he decided to change positions to bury himself even deeper inside you. It wasn't in his plans to break the promise he made to his little star so he fucked you until he left your belly nicely swollen with his seed.

Neither of you could deny anything to your little four-year-old walking smile.

HONGJOONG

"I want a little sister" said your three-year-old son as he perched himself in his father's work chair, a phrase that made Hongjoong drop whatever he was with that same moment and look at the kid "What? Why all of a sudden?".

"My best friend just had one and she's very cute" The way in which his baby waddled slowly without letting go of the chair, with that rascally face inherited from him himself, looking at him expectantly for an affirmative answer, brought out of Hongjoong his most genuine smile "Well, yes. Babies are really cute" he said, ruffling his hair before picking him up and sitting the child on his lap "but that's not a reason to have one, love".

For how the minor gasped dramatically while frowning, there was no doubt that that response had even offended him. This little boy's reactions were so comically unique that Hongjoong's stomach even hurt from laughing on many occasions.

"But I want one!" The child said as if it was the most prevalent reason to have a baby, and Hongjoong was about to talk but the appearance of his favorite girl stopped him "I think I have something to say in all this no?" You said, entering the room until you were standing next to your husband, something that didn't last long because said husband didn't like the idea of not having you closer so he sat you on his free leg; and it's not like you were going to complain, in fact, you hugged him "It's my belly the one that's going to hold that little sister for nine months".

"How?" As soon as he asked, both parents' eyes widened. You should have assumed he would ask, but hey, it's not like you mind talking about it, not like Hongjoong apparently "How what, baby?" He acted dumb, clearly not wanting to have that conversation now, too young his son to talk about anything of that "How will the baby get into mommy's tummy?" But this little curious boy wasn't about to leave the topic for Hongjoong's misfortune, who even let out an accidental "Oh shit".

It had to be said that Hongjoong didn't expect that he should have to answer this question at this point of his short life as a father, nor did he expect that too adorable "Oh shit" from the kid either. Word that clearly set off your alarms as a mother "No, baby. Don't say that" You corrected him, booping his nose and waiting for the child to ask why he couldn't say it if his dad could but you were surprised with that too cute "Okay mommy".

Both you and Hongjoong were about to die of love.

"That's my good boy" Hongjoong said, ruffling his hair one more time and giving him a kiss on the head "So are you going to bring me a little sister yes or not?" You both looked at each other, not knowing exactly what to say, until Hongjoong decided to leave the answer hanging in the air "We'll see" to which your son answered with an unfortunate unexpected "Fuck".

"HONGJOONG" Was the first thing that crossed your mind, yelling at the surprised man that was now looking at you "I DIDN'T EVEN SAY THAT" But then he stopped, thinking for a moment "Well maybe he has learned it from me, yes..." And your son nodding only made you look even worse at your husband "Don't say that either, okay baby?" And with that your baby boy covered his mouth with his two little hands and nod one more time, making you both laugh.

YUNHO

It was a peaceful night at Jeong's residence until your eldest son ended with said peace after all those failed attempts to play with his little sister who was only dedicated to watch him move while eating her tiny fist so calmly in her baby-hammock.

"I want another brother or sister!" Your son screamed, running towards his father's open legs to hide his head in his crotch and hold on to his legs. Sudden blow to his private parts that made Yunho complain and you chuckled softly under your breath so as not to be discovered by your husband who was already looking at you with half-closed eyes and shaking his head despite being laughing too.

"Why do you say that, baby?" You asked after you managed to calm your laughter "Because Y/D/N never plays with me!" Your son screamed again, readjusting his posture while firming his grip without separating an inch from his father "It's that?" Yunho asked between laughs, stroking his little head after hearing his son complain in a sort of shouted sob "I mean, if you want another sibling daddy will give you one".

"Tch, Yunho" His first name, not jagi. Bad moment to put on display his pleaser nature, man "But you have to ask mommy too" And you nodded, he was safe "So... you want another sibling to play with because your sister can't, baby?" And your son nodded without taking his head off his father's body "But you have to know that if we give you a new brother or sister, they couldn't play with you either" And that's the moment your son lifted his head, looking at you directly with a mix of horror and surprise, as if what you had said was the strangest thing ever "Why?".

"Because they would be even smaller than Y/D/N".

"More?!" He was silent for a moment after both Yunho and you nodded, seeming to be reconsidering what you had just revealed to him, when he suddenly separated from Yunho completely, crossing his arms and giving you both his back angrily "I don't want another sibling then".

"Oh no, my third baby" Jeong senior said dramatically, he even put his hands on his chest where his heart was pretending to be hurt "Yunho" you said in a warning tone, taking your son in your arms to hug him, accommodating you two in the couch under the warmth of your favorite blanket "Oh, come on. Three kids sounds nice, don't you think?".

"Y/D/N is only seven months old, let me enjoy life without kicks that burst my ribs a little longer" You couldn't see it because you were too busy kissing your son but you already knew that Yunho was smiling for how happy he sounded saying "A little longer? Is that a yes to a third baby?" Which only confirmed to you that Yunho was indeed looking forward to having a third. And one thing you were never good at since you started dating him was saying no to him when he looked so adorably excited about something "It's a 'maybe when my ribs return to their natural position because your daughter opened them for kicking them so many times' ".

"We're having a third" Yunho said victoriously with that goofy smile that you fell in love with at first sight and that, to this day, was still one of your many weak points.

YEOSANG

"Daddy" your daughter said in the softest voice you could have ever heard in your life. You couldn't see her because you were at the laundry room while your husband and daughter were doing an afternoon snack but you could even swear that she was playing with her little fingers nervously for the tone she used. That was one of her gestures when she was about to ask for something "Tell me, darling" Yeosang sounded as cute as your daughter which made you smile foolishly, nothing could please you more than the fact that the two loves of your life were so much alike "Can I have a sibling, please?".

That question surely made you slow down the speed at which you were doing the laundry, as if that would help you to hear better. It was a topic Yeosang and you talked about a few months ago, both thinking that it would be nice to have a second child not only because you two think that having siblings is so beneficial for a kid, but because you both were attracted by the idea of expanding your family. Another living proof of your love for each other.

But those were your reasons to want another baby, what would your daughter's reasons be? You were curious about them. Just like Yeosang.

"Of course, darling. But can daddy know why you ask?" The tenderness with which your husband was handling this conversation, like every conversation he had with your daughter, was so heartwarming. You could die of a sweet high "I want a sibling to be my best friend forever" and your daughter was about to finish what her father had started.

Not being able to be a mere listener anymore, you put the small skirt you had in your hands back in the laundry basket to go out to the kitchen, finding the lovely picture of your daughter sitting at the counter next to your husband, helping him prepare a bowl of fruit for the three of you to enjoy together.

"Have you heard it, Y/N-ah?" Yeosang said, looking at you with a cute smile that made his dimples stand out. He looked so innocent that made your heart beat in happiness "That's why I'm here, jagi" you approached them, taking your daughter's cheeks between your hands "To tell our baby that mommy and daddy will try to give her a sibling as soon as possible" and then you showered your little girl with lots of kisses to which she replied more than delighted just to join forces you both a few seconds later to shower Yeosang with kisses as well. Something the male was more than happy to accept.

SAN

When your older daughter asked in the middle of the dinner for another sibling you choked with your water to which San quickly reacted by patting you gently on the back, a situation that seemed very funny to the youngest of the three children who couldn't stop laughing at mommy's coughing fit. Whoever was not amused at all was your middle child, and it was not surprising after how much she cried and threw a tantrum when San and you told her that she was going to be big sister.

"Another one?!" She looked at her parents with a mixture of fear, surprise and rejection in her eyes that threatened to burst into tears if you gave her an affirmative answer. She looked so affected that she even worried you both. San couldn't see his kid like that "No, baby" he answered with so much tenderness, hugging the kid and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead before looking at you and asking "No?".

Who knows, maybe you were expecting a fourth child and he didn't know it.

But you shook your head what made your older daughter cross her arms and openly complain about not having a fourth sibling to which your second daughter yelled a not too nice "Three are fine!" Frowning and getting up from her seat to climb onto her father's lap so he could hold her as she wanted, searching for his comfort "But I want another brother!" The eldest answered in the same way her sister had spoken. The girls' tone only hinted at an impending fight between them, something that neither San nor you wanted obviously so San immediately cut them off with a serious "Enough girls".

San hated to use a severe tone with his children but he hated even more the idea of having a fight between his daughters when it was supposed to be a nice and lovely dinner in family. Much worse if the fight was going to be about whether or not to have another member in your family.

"What have we said about raising our voices in a bad way?" He said with seriousness, which made both kids look down with a pout "Sorry..." Both girls said at unison, now looking up at their father before looking at the other, your middle child climbing off San's lap to hug her older sister as an apology. Both had been taught to apologise to each other with a hug to make amends.

And after seeing that your daughters were fine again you decided to settle the dispute "About the sibling thing" both girls had their attention on you now "Daddy and mommy think that three kids are enough, by the moment" which made your second daughter smile unconsciously while your eldest pouted "But that doesn't mean that we won't bring you another sibling in the future" this time your second daughter was the one not looking so pleased while the eldest was smiling.

From the way they both nodded you knew they were content but not satisfied with that. You had given birth to them and raised them, you knew absolutely every single one of their gestures and what they meant. But hey, the discussion was over and you could go back to dinner in peace.

MINGI

"I like this one" Your son said, pointing to a photo in which both children were curled up in their father's arms, the three of them sleeping on the couch comfortably, Mingi hadn't even changed his clothes; one of your favorite pictures in fact, just looking at it almost brought tears to your eyes "In this one dad had just arrived from a tour. You refused to leave his arms even for a single second".

"How old were we?" This one was your daughter "Seven months" Mingi answered, smiling at the memory of how his babies received him that day with their little arms raised, calling him between really cute babblings while they moved nervously in their mother's arms "Such cute babies we were and I don't remember that" Your daughter said dramatically "We need a baby in this house".

"Wait, what?" You looked between your kids and Mingi, who was as surprised as you from hearing that, getting even more surprised when your son agreed with his sister "Right! If we have a little brother or sister they will look as cute as us!".

"Woo, woo, woo. Slow down you two" Mingi tried to calm his already excited twins but it didn't work at all "And why a little brother or a little sister when we can have both?" Your daughter ignored him to continue her talk with her brother, you could almost swear that her eyes were shining. But here dad came to try to calm the situation a second time after seeing the way in which your eyes widened "I told you to slow down, neither your mom nor I have said that we are going to bring you a sibling".

"But daddy! We lost each other as a baby!" Your son exclaimed dramatically as if it was the worst thing ever, with his hands on his father's cheeks and his head tilted back to add more drama "We want to have a baby at home" your daughter pouted sadly with a frown and, before Mingi had the opportunity to reply to that you suddenly said "Well, they really seem very excited about the idea of being big bother and sister, daddy" looking at him with a knowing smile. Apparently he had misinterpreted that expression of yours from a few seconds ago.

The fact is that Mingi had caught your message but, with both children staring at him expectantly, he couldn't do anything but respond to you with one look that only you could interpret: tomorrow you weren't going to be able to get out of bed. But that was only for you, obviously, the answer for your twins was "Then it seems to me that the family is going to grow, mommy " For which your living room ended up filled with euphoric shouts from your kids.

WOOYOUNG

"Babe, come here!" Wooyoung screamed from the kitchen and a lot of horrible things crossed your mind, since your son had been burned until he had cut one of his fingers "What happens?! I swear to god that if my baby is missing just one finger I'll—".

"None of that, I have everything under control here. Just listen to what our baby has to tell you" and with that all your attention went to your three year old boy who was jumping in the stool he was standing on to help his dad with dinner "I want a little sister!" And at such a revelation you could only blink several times, looking between father and son in silence until, after blinking a few more times, you said a simple "A sister".

"Yes!" Your eldest son said really excited, jumping even higher in his spot to which Wooyoung already had his arm around him but without touching him, just as a precautionary measure to prevent his son from falling "I already have a brother, I want a sister now".

Without a doubt, you thought it was quite cute the way he had said it, swaying his little body from side to side with those bright little eyes, but you couldn't help but to look up at the smiling father, looking for an answer "Do you have anything to do with this, love?" And Wooyoung shoke his head, not stopping smiling even for a second "It's all Y/S/N idea. But I also think that it's time to have a girl, babe".

And, to say the truth, the idea of having a girl was quite tempting, even more so when you had been thinking the same thing for a while. Having two children was fantastic as well as exhausting, you were more than sure that having one more could only double the happiness but also the exhaustion. And that was a sacrifice you were willing to do for sure.

"And you? Do you want a sister too?" You asked your second son who you were carrying in your arm, the baby smiling at you the very next moment his big shining eyes met yours which made you smile too "Okay then. Let's see if we can bring you a little sister" You finally said, both your eldest son and your husband screamed with excitement "But you have to know that it may not be a girl but another boy".

"We can always try again, love, don't worry about that" Wooyoung said nonchalantly, winking at you with a big smile to which your son exclaimed an excited "Yes!" Happy with the thought that one way or another he was going to have a little sister "Why did I already expect it..." You shook your head but not in a bad mood, you were also laughing at how predictable Wooyoung and your son were to you.

JONGHO

"Go, go. Ask daddy, my love" Jongho heard you say to your son distantly, you were at the bathroom giving your kid a shower while he was resting on the sofa after having set the table for dinner. Then, the sound of tiny quick steps made him turn off his phone, waiting for his son to appear in front of him just to be surprised by the kid poking his little head out on the side "Hi, baby" Said Jongho, waiting patiently for his son to tell him whatever he had to tell him "I want a brother!".

One, two, three blinks from the surprised father. Not even a hi. His son went straight to the point. The child was certainly clear about his priorities.

Well, such a question demanded seriousness so Jongho leaned closer to the armrest to close distance with his son, resting one arm and intertwining his hands "Daddy and mommy have to talk about it first but tell me, why you want a sibling?".

He had heard multiple reasons why a child might want a sibling. Some quite cute, some quite funny, and with the witty answers your son had for everything, Jongho was especially curious about this one. What a surprise he got when he heard your little boy say "All my friends are from the school or the park, if I have a sibling I will have a friend at home too!".

It was certainly something totally unexpected for Jongho. Although the thought of his son indirectly telling him that he felt lonely at home worried him for a moment, the sight of the smiling kid quickly dispelled all those worries. His little boy just wanted a playmate at home like he had at school and in the park.

"Fine. We'll see if we give you a sibling, okay?" Your son nodded enthusiastically at his father before going to the dining table, leaving both Jongho and you alone in the living room "That was a maybe for a second baby?" You asked him with something like hope shining in your eyes and that was when Jongho remembered hearing you say how much you wanted a second child when you were on the phone, talking to a friend.

If both his son and wife wanted to expand the family, he only could please them so, standing up from his seat, Jongho approached you, stopping in front of you with both hands in the pockets of his trousers "We'll see. We can try as many times as you want but I don't control biology, jagi" and he left you there with a blush on your cheeks, clearly having taken the hint in his words, going to the dining table too with a big smile on his lips.

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threebea · 22 hours ago

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Tiny Obi-Wan and Yoda just sat down somewhere having extremely Old Man conversations.

Mace: ....

Obi-Wan: you cannot imagine the things I can eat. No problem. No stomach upset. The fact Dex hasn't opened his diner yet is a travisty.

Yoda: Decades in exile subsisting on frogs I have been.

Obi-Wan: Yes, but those are good for you.

Yoda: Desire cake I do. One hundred years too late for it we are. Rubbing it in you are.

Obi-Wan: Well there must be some silver linings. The knees are nice too, but I can't reach anything.

Yoda: hmph, perspective you have gained perhaps?

Obi-Wan: not at this height.

Yoda: (laughs and gives him gentle whack with his cane) lost your cheek you have not, Master Kenobi

⭐

Obi-Wan: (notices Mace) oh, Master, please join us.

Mace: ... (Sits down)

Obi-Wan: (Sighs like an old man) I must say I'm glad not to be on the council at the moment. Have you read my proposal on Hutt investments portfolios? I know you're busy with Xanatos' nonsense, but if we move soon we could prevent Jabba from gaining ground in thirty years.

Mace: you should be learning how to mix colours with paint, not sending me paperwork in the middle of the night, Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: (gestures to neat paint pallet with colours mixed) I already know how to do that.

Yoda: doubt that I do. Knowing is not understanding.

Obi-Wan: that doesn't even mean anything. You can't tease me just because I'm small now.

Yoda: size matters not. Tease you I always will.

Obi-Wan: well that's true (eye roll)

Mace: I have enough paperwork Kenobi. Stop sending me paperwork.

Obi-Wan: well I would send it to another Master, but you're the only one that knows of my predicament and you won't let me use your name, and Master Yoda has always been awful with written proposals, no one would believe it.

Yoda (has brought out the paints Obi-Wan had with him and has started mixing colours)

Mace: Master you can't just mix paint on the tile!

Yoda: fear the mess it will make, hmm?

Obi-Wan: you're impossible. (Starts doing it as well) I never enjoyed making a mess, even at this age.

Yoda: fear of the future that is.

Obi-Wan: here he goes.

Yoda: to live in the moment, without fear of the mess of the future, that is the way of a Jedi.

Mace: (watches the two of them paint pictures on the ground. It's a complete mess)

Obi-Wan: I don't fear the future.

Yoda: hah!

Obi-Wan: I'm stressed! Stressed isn't the same thing as fear.

Yoda: come from fear stress does. Anxiety. Make a cloud you should.

Obi-Wan: (examines his tile of art work, adds a cloud)

Yoda: stress Master Mace has trouble with too. (Pointedly looking at Mace who is just watching the mess unfold)

Mace: (sighs, takes the hint, sits on the floor and dips his finger in the purple Obi-Wan mixed) I have many things to do.

Yoda: but right now you are painting.

Mace: I can't tell if you're both being serious or messing with me.

Obi-Wan: it can be both, Master. (Makes a face) I'm going to have blue hands for a week.

Mace: have you always been anxious, Master Kenobi? You always seem very confident and composed. It was eerie when we first met, seeing a child so poised.

Obi-Wan: yes, well I don't want anyone to know I'm anxious. Too many people rely on me.

Yoda: like someone else that is.

Mace: well... Right now you're at an age you don't need to be so independent.

Obi-Wan: I'm older than you are, Master. My crude matter doesn't reflect who I am inside. I can't just turn off my worries. It was easier in the end. In the desert... But it's hard to grasp now. I found my balance and peace, but in the here and now I find myself at odds with my knowledge. Every stray thought and memory of something that could be changed for the better.

Mace: changing the future is dangerous.

Obi-Wan: not changing it is more dangerous.

Mace: if you become obsessed you risk losing yourself. You need an anchor.

Obi-Wan: I know. (Focuses back on his painting) The future is always in motion. I am not changing anything. I am simply existing in the now. The ripples for good or ill can rarely be controlled or focused. However is it not my duty to follow where the Force has led me and do good?

Mace: ... (I feel very young suddenly)

Yoda: talk too much you do, Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: well it's been awhile since anyone has been kind enough to listen, Master Yoda. Force knows you don't have the attention for it.

Yoda: accuse me of senility do you? Focused I am on the present (gestures at his paint mess). Rambling on the old days you are.

Obi-Wan: who is the more senile? The old man or the old man that tries to talk to him?

Mace: (looking at the five year old who just said that. He has a splotch of blue paint on his cheek) no more proposals in the middle of the night, Kenobi. You'll get an ulcer at six.

Obi-Wan: (prim and proper) and when exactly did you get your first stress ulcer Master Windu?

Yoda: (laughs) twenty-two he was.

Mace: just paint.

Terrible Fic Ideas #3: Re-Entry, but make it Obi-Wan and Yoda

If you've not noticed by now, I'm the biggest sucker for Time Travel Fix-Its that ever existed, and one of my absolute favorites is the Re-Entry series by the ever-wonderful flamethrower. In that series, post-RotJ Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent back to 4 years before TPM to save the Republic, and it's an absolutely wonderful ride. But one thing I've always wanted is Yoda to be thrown back in time in one of these fix-its.

Imagine it:

Yoda is the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He has the ability to make lasting changes to the order in a way that young Padawan or newly knighted Obi-Wan alone couldn't. He's also had ~25 years alone in a swamp without even the passing human contact Obi-Wan got on Tatooine to reflect on all the things that went wrong, and stuck around as a Force Ghost at least until TLJ.

Not that I imagine TLJ happening in this AU - to kick it off I imagine Luke not managing to make it off the second Death Star after Anakin dies, and Anakin and Leia's anguish in the Force managing to hurl the watching Force ghosts into the pasts, where they can keep Luke's death from ever happening.

And so you have Yoda and Obi-Wan being thrown back to, say, 52 BBY. Obi-Wan, now only five years old, wakes his crechemate's up with a "vision", and for decades afterwards the younglings swear that on certain nights you can year an echo of absolute and complete anguish in the Force.

But the end result is the same: 5 year old Obi-Want has his memories of the next 52 years alive and 4 additional years of being a Force ghost. The transition is somewhat less abrupt for Yoda, who is 800+ at this time.

Unlike Re-Entry, the only one Yoda and Obi-Wan tell (at least at first) that they've traveled through time is Mace - and only then because Obi-Wan is very obviously not a normal 5 year old anymore. (And even then it's more of an accident Mace finds out. Instead Yoda just sort of pushes Mace at Obi-Wan "to help him get a handle on his visions and train him in the ways of the Force", and in the end Mace finally puts two and two together after sort of assuming he's just going crazy or being punked.)

Actually, confused!babysitter Mace is half the drive for this plot bunny. He's so confused and Yoda is being even more of a troll than usual, and he's not prepared at all to deal with such a small child, but honestly half the time it feels like Obi-Wan is the one taking care of him, and just so much confusion.

Together, between Yoda being the Grandmaster and Obi-Wan's weaponized cuteness as a youngling, they are able to prevent some things that contribute to the fall of the Republic. (Galidraan et al).

Obi-Wan is taken as Mace's Padawan fairly young, and no one really considers it too be too odd how good he is so young given that Mace was his Master and Yoda's been his mentor since the creche, but he's definitely considered to be an odd child. As one might expect of a ~60 year old being suddenly stuffed into his 5 year old body. When it eventually comes out that he's a time traveler, it answers a lot things people didn't realize they were questioning.

But mostly confused!babysitter Mace, troll!Yoda, and baby!Obi-Wan.

As always, feel free to adopt the bunny. Just link if you end up doing anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#Yoda #mace #Obi-Wan #just for fun

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notiddygothgf · 3 days ago

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SEX IS FREE (her)

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: nanami being sexy asf, suggestive content, mentions of sex (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HIIIIII omg so i can explain the hiatus lol.... it was totally unintentional. i wound up getting super depressed over school and then fell into a chainsaw man hyperfixation (read shameless, its an aki ff i wrote youll love it). I FINALLY PICKED THIS STORY UP AGAIN because for some reason it's been getting a lot of attention recently??? lol anyway! your comments inspired me to continue writing it (though i cant promise that i'll update quickly, i AM a full time student so #bepatientwithme).

I was salivating over Nanami in this chapter if you couldnt tell lol.... but enjoy!!! keep those comments coming! who knows, maybe i have another chapter stored away and will update a little earlier....... x

★ w.c.; 5.6k

my kinda love; chapter index

‘AND I’M BAD LIKE THE BARBIE. I’m a doll, but I still wanna party,’

“Donnie, baby, you in there?”

“Yeah!” You called back, loud enough for your coworker to hear through the door. You pressed the tube of red lipstick against your bottom lip, peering into the mirror, filling in the outline you had done in black. When you didn’t receive an immediate answer, you continued humming along to the song playing quietly from your phone. “Pink vette like I’m ready to bend. ‘Imma ten so I’m pullin a ken, likeee.”

Your coworker entered the dressing room – you were the only one there. Most of the other girls from the afternoon shift had gone home already.

“Some dude wants to rent you,” She told you.

“No. I don’t do private rooms,” You replied without even looking back. You knew who she was. You weren’t the biggest fan. “I’m good, Mandy.”

“He asked specifically for you,” She added. “Offered a lotta money, too. Helluva lot more than we normally charge.”

You froze up at that. Initially, your first thought was to send her off a second time. Then, you thought of her running off with your money.

“Is he one of them greasy, sleazy old guys?” You asked. It was wild, how quickly you perked up when you heard that. “Last guy was throwin’ himself onto me. I should’ve filed a police report.”

“Oh, stop your ‘bitchin,” The girl sighed. “He’s paying 200 just to see your ass.”

If you had a tail, it would have started wagging.

What? A girl had bills to pay. “So he is a greasy old pervert.”

“No, actually. He’s a fine, young thing. Well, not young, but younger than most of the guys we usually get back here,” She trailed off in thought. You watched her body move in the corner of the mirror. “Sexy as hell. Serious, businessman type. Tall, blond, handsome, a jawline that could cut paper,” here, she bent over, leaning over you and muttering the next words into your ear, “I could always take him off your hands, y’know.”

“As if,” You replied. Spinning the chair back around, you got up. “Better not be expecting nothing extravagant. I’m considering this overtime.”

With a deep breath, standing in front of the cherry red door, your heart began to pound against you chest. It was some strange mixture of nerves and excitement you felt as you raised your hand to knock.

Here goes nothing. You reached for the doorknob and entered the private room, turning back only to lock it behind you.

“Special delivery!” you crooned, trying to embody a playful tone to mask the jittery feeling within. When you turned around to face the client, you were caught by surprise.

Your wide eyes traced over a familiar silhouette – broad shoulders, perfectly-fitted, navy blue two-piece suit that clung to his large arms, and matching slacks that clung to his legs – his widespread, casual position hinted at sophistication. A pretty, sharp, angular face framed by neatly-cropped blond hair. A tasteful timepiece on his wrist caught your eye.

Narrow eyes obscured by peculiar glasses, chiseled cheekbones and jawline. His blond hair – framing his apricot skin – was done up carefully, perfectly, sweeping over his head like a ray of sunlight. You recognized him by his signature scowl.

He came back for more?

You liked your lips, trying to play it cool (like you hadn’t been waiting for him to come back). “Oh, hey, it’s you again,” you said with a smirk. Strutting over to him, you cooed, “Couldn’t stay away?”

He’s so fucking hot.

Though his response wasn’t verbal, the pink hue that dusted his face was not lost on you. You swayed your hips from side to side. “Can you give me somethin’ to work with? I don’t usually do these rooms, you know.”

The devastatingly handsome man swallowed, fixing his gaze on the door – the one you had locked on the way in. As you worked your way between his legs, teasingly dragging your hands up and down your body, his gaze wandered back to you. Shamelessly, you reveled in the attention – studying his reaction.

You could smell his cologne from here – again – and, shit, it made your head spin all over again. The warm notes lingered beneath the collar of his dress shirt. Amber. Wood. Musk. Something dark?

“So I’ve heard,” The man replied, finally breaking his silence. His voice was a revelation – deep, mellow, and smooth, carrying a certain tone of weariness that seemed to add to his enigmatic charm. Charm? Yes, you supposed he charmed you.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt to let some fresh air in. The action drew your attention to his neck, provoking you to take a moment to appreciate the details your coworker had emphasized: Tall, blond, with a jawline that could indeed cut paper.

You were wretched. You had to have been. This is so wrong.

“You seem tense,” You remark, making your second attempt at breaking the ice. “You’re new to the scene, aren’t you?”

The handsome stranger – Nanami, if you remembered correctly – licked his lips, drawing mindless shapes over the deep-toned fabric that covered his knee. “Is it that obvious?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The movement did not go unnoticed.

“A little,” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Do you want a dance? We could just sit and chat, too, if you want. I don’t mind. I know your type tend’ta like talking.”

You couldn’t control the way your eyes flitted down over his toned thighs – mind hazy with unwelcome thoughts. The temptation to crawl into his lap a second time was strong, but you reminded yourself of the situation – he was your roommate’s teacher, for fuck’s sake. Your roommate’s handsome… muscular… expensive-looking teacher… with a deep, sexy voice that you could hardly resist.

You must have been ovulating. That was the only excuse.

“I won’t make you put on a show for me,” Nobara’s professor trailed off, eyes distant, clearly lost in thought. He seemed to snap out of it after a moment, pretty brown eyes peering into yours – they looked so dark up close. “As crazy as it sounds, I only wanted to speak to you.”

Your sultry facade cracked a bit at that, surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation. From your experience, men usually came here with only one thing in mind. He wanted to talk… to you. Oh my god.

You nearly squealed. Clearing your throat and pressing your legs together, you turned to hide your flustered face from the older man. “Alright,” you said. “You have 30 minutes.” Plopping down on the couch next to him, you threw your legs over his lap. “What’s your name, handsome stranger?”

You already knew his name. Still, to keep up appearances, you played coy with him. You knew that, reasonably, there was no reason you should be continuing to entertain him — financial commpensation aside, though you could always reimburse him. You should have turned back the moment you realized it was him.

Then again… he had come to see you. It wasn’t like he knew you were his student’s roommate, but that was besides the point. That alone was moral justification enough for you.

The stiff man had his eyes trained on the spot where your legs had been thrown haphazardly over his. Then, nervously, he answered, “Nanami. Kento.”

Kento. You liked that name. It rolled off the tongue real easy — a buttery smooth name for a man as composed as him.

“Nice to meet you Nanami… Kento,” You chipped, mimicking his prose. “Donetta DiVine. I’m sure you already knew that, though. Do you wanna start, or should I?”

Nanami Kento knitted his brows. “Start…?”

You rolled your eyes rather playfully, giving his leg a nudge with your heel. You had ditched the stage platforms for a smaller pair of stilettos. “What do you do for a living?”

He licked his lips. After a brief pause, he answered, “I can’t really say, but I teach on the side.”

“Ooh— mysterious…” You grinned. Leaning into the couch, you braced your chin on your hand, staring into his eyes. It didn’t take much effort to play the role of the ‘interested’ siren like it normally did. Not with him. “You already know what I do,” You added, “You look tired.”

His brown eyes widened with surprise.

Shit, I overstepped.

You took your statement back quickly, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s not—“ He trailed off. Something in his harsh expression softened. “You’re right. Just the first person to notice.”

If your attraction to the man had been any more obvious, you would’ve been waving a sign around with his name on it.

“Really? You’ve got such tired eyes,” You continued anyway. You figured you would at least try to make the most of this half hour with him. “Wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, “Where would I even begin?”

“Your week?” You answered, making a rolling gesture with your spare hand. “How… how was it?”

He looked equal parts confused and intrigued by you, quirking a perfecftly arched brow before clearing his throat. “My week was alright. I started work again after taking a leave of absence for a few months.”

“No kidding…” You trailed off. It didn’t take much to make your interested tone seem real, as you felt nothing but the most genuine sense of interest while listening to him drone on in that deep, raspy voice of his. You could have listened to it for hours. “What happened?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was quick, fleeting – you almost missed it. “Workplace injury,” He sighed. “If it’s alright, I’d rather not go into detail about it.”

This guy’s like a brick wall.

“Did you heal up okay?” You asked, eyes wide and prying.

He didn’t seem to mind you much. That was a good sign.

“Had to undergo some minor surgery but, yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” He smiled, actually smiled, and it made your chest stir with something unfamiliar. He was devastatingly handsome – the kind of handsome you kept in a little locket in your pocket when you went to war, or something like that. “My bosses have been pressuring me to come back ever since I left. One superior of mine in particular… has been a nuisance. I was under the impression that sick leave was supposed to be a period of peace… but I guess I thought wrong.”

You laughed at his attempt at humor. It came easily to you. Too easily. “I know how you feel. I busted my ass a few months ago. Twisted my ankle real bad,” You raised your leg off of his lap, twirling your stiletto heel around in the air, cutting through it like a knife. “These things are deadly. Boss gave me a solid two days before he started blowing up my phone asking when I was going to be back. It’s like… can you let me live?”

He laughed, then – really laughed, the kind that made his chest rumble, head thrown back against the cushiony couch. And as he released the melodious sound that made your head spin, his eyes creased at the corners. The experience gap between the two you couldn’t have been more apparent. He was a grown man, hardened by years of trials and tribulations – a mysterious one, at that. And there you were, a naive little dancer with your legs strewn over his lap like he was a partner and not a client. He seemed so wise beyond his years, something only accentuated by the tiredness in his eyes. You longed to hear him drone on about his life a little longer, 30 minutes be damned.

“My superior and I actually went to highschool together. He’s been up my ass as long as I can remember,” He hummed, licking his lips, and you followed the path of his tongue as it wet the skin like a hungry feline.

“Which superior?” You asked, mindlessly picking at the fabric of the velour couch beneath you. “The one you were here with last time? With the white hair?”

When the man knit his brows together, you froze up. Shit. I just gave myself away.

There was a brief, tense pause, during which you tried to focus on the music playing from the speakers, the jazzy tune, the faint remnants of a song playing in the showroom outside and up the hall, the wallpaper – anything but him.

“Yes, that would be him,” He answered, finally. He seemed to be… intrigued by you. Yes, that’s what it was – his half-lidded amber gaze lingered on your face for a moment too long. “You’re very perceptive.”

You cleared your throat. “So, this job of yours… do you like it?”

“I despise it,” He sighed, like he had been waiting his entire life to confess those words. “But, at least, I figure I’m doing something meaningful with my life. You could say I’m a professor on the side.”

I already know that, You thought. Still, he didn’t have to know you knew.

“It’s a demanding job, but I enjoy feeling like I’ve made a difference,” He continued on. “Unfortunately, after the incident, I had to take some time away from the kids to recover.”

“You seem to enjoy teaching,” You answered back, perching your chin on your hand against the back of the couch.

“Sometimes,” He replied. “Other times, the work can be unbearable,” He looked up, then, pretty brown eyes on yours in a way that had your heart skipping more than a couple of beats. You could practically feel the way they burned right through your extroverted facade, saw past the layers of glitter and scanty clothes and deep into the abyss in your chest. See who you really were.

It was him who turned to you, then, asking you, “What about you?”

“Me?” You asked, just to make sure you’d heard him correctly. A client? Caring about your experience at work? That was… dizzyingly rare.

“Yes, you,” He reiterated with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you enjoy working here?”

Do I…? You took a moment to consider your answer. You could lie to him – preserve the perfect, sexual image the women in your company were expected to uphold. That was always an option. But, the moment you peered into those all-knowing, tired eyes of his, you found that you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. No, not when he had been so honest with you.

No one’s ever asked me that before.

Before you could catch yourself, the words were already leaving your lips. “Not really, but it pays the bills.”

His eyes softened at that. He didn’t look the least bit upset by your words. If anything, he looked as if he had grown suddenly tender with a sense of understanding. Women didn’t often join your line of work. Not unless they were desperate for money. He seemed mature enough to realize that – to see right past the fantasy you were supposed to paint for him and peer into your eyes like windows into your soul. One look at him, and you knew he didn’t see you as a dancer.

He saw you as a person. As a woman.

You broke the moment with a hum, “Why don’t you keep telling me about your week?” You asked, changing the subject, shifting the conversation back into comfortable territory.

The rest of the half-hour with Nanami flew by like a fleeting dream. He spoke with a quiet ease, his voice low and steady, yet somehow captivating. He complained about the inefficiencies at work—endless meetings that led nowhere, piles of paperwork that seemed to multiply overnight, and colleagues who turned simple tasks into impossible challenges. Yet, when he talked about his students, something in his tone softened, revealing a warmth that made your chest ache. You found yourself asking questions, small ones at first, but each answer drew him out more. The way he spoke—measured, thoughtful, with just the faintest edge of weariness—made you want to listen forever. For someone who seemed so guarded, he had a surprising amount to say, and you realized how much you liked hearing him talk.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed until a sharp knock interrupted the quiet cocoon of your conversation.

“Donnie? You okay in there? Your 30 was up ten minutes ago.”

It was your coworker.

“I’m good!” You called back, swinging your legs off of Nanami’s lap, turning to him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I completely lost track of time.”

“No, it’s alright. I should have been checking my watch,” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, long fingers combing through the buzzed, blonde strands of his undercut like wind blowing through a field of wheat. Then, after glancing down at his watch, he stood up, cleared his throat, and straightened out his suit jacket. “Thank you for your time.”

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch, brows furrowed. “That’s it?”

You had half expected him to extend the time. The conversation was going so well, you had silently found yourself hoping that he would lean over and do something – place his strong hand on your thigh, brush his fingers up your arm, anything. No-touching policy be damned.

You would make an exception for him. Men that fine don’t just grow on trees.

So, trying your best to lure him back in, you kicked one leg over the other, crawling into a sexy pose on the couch. In the most sultry tone you could manage, you breathed, “Is that really all you wanted?”

Please ask me for a lapdance, You found yourself wishing internally.

He paused, looking back at you like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the sexy pose or the outfit or… well, anything. “Yes, why?”

“Nothing, I don’t know, I just… You spent so much money tonight to be here,” You uttered, suddenly bashful when he was peering down at you like that – he was so much taller than you, a height gap that was only emphasized by your seated position on the couch below him. You imagined you would have to stand on the tips of your toes to be at eye level with his neck, maybe his chin. Mindlessly, you caressed the couch. “I figured you would have at least wanted a lap dance, or something.”

“I’m not going to make you do something that neither of us are interested in doing,” He said, sliding his hands down over his slacks to straighten out the creases that had formed in them where your legs had been resting only a moment earlier. “Sex is free. It’s rare to find someone who’s willing to listen.”

You sat there, stunned into silence, still in that sexy pose on the couch, your body frozen in the aftermath of his words. His calm, unbothered demeanor completely threw you off balance, leaving you scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. Men like him didn’t come in here looking for conversation. They came in here for fantasies, for attention, for touch. But not him.

“Thank you for everything,” he said softly, bowing his head slightly in a gesture so gentlemanly it made your stomach twist. Then, without another word, he moved to the door, unlocking it with smooth precision.

You didn’t even have time to gather yourself before he slipped out, leaving you sitting there in your sultry pose, legs crossed, mouth slightly open. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the room, final and undeniable.

You blinked, your mind racing, the moment replaying over and over in your head. Did I just get… emotionally blue-balled?

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks, both incredulous and a little amused at how absurdly fitting it was. You flopped back against the couch, your sultry act forgotten, staring up at the ceiling as the jazzy tune from the speakers drifted lazily through the air.

For the first time, a client had left you feeling something you couldn’t quite put into words. You couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed, intrigued, or just completely thrown off your game.

All you knew was that you wanted more.

DARREN: Hey imu.

DARREN: U busy tn?

YOU: I’m working but I get out early. Y.

DARREN: let me pick u up after work

DARREN: maybe i can help you ease some of that stress.

Darren rolled off of you with a huff and an exhale, proud of himself. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the backside of his elbow, sighing, “That was great. Did you cum?”

“Yeah,” You liked straight through your teeth. Feeling vulnerable, you reached for your shirt and slipped it back on. There was a point in time where the two of you would sleep skin-to-skin after sex. A point in time long ago, of course, but you couldn’t help but reflect. Now, all that was left was a feeling of discomfort where the intimacy used to be.

He flopped down onto the bed next to you, throwing his arm around your waist. Not moving a muscle, you trained your gaze on the ceiling above, hoping that maybe, if you spent enough time counting the dots in his popcorn ceiling, he would see that you did not, in fact, enjoy the experience. You doubted he would do anything to fix it even if he did know.

52, 53, 54.

You had been counting for the past five minutes – thirty seconds after he had grunted the words, “Let’s do missionary” into your ear before flipping you over. Truthfully, you hadn’t wanted to do missionary. That would mean that he could see you and, more importantly, that you had to look at him. So, to pass time and to avoid his gaze, you looked up at the ceiling, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tides of pleasure that his strokes gave you.

55, 56, 57.

He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “You smell like a man’s cologne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I work at a strip club.”

With a groan, Darren rolled onto his back, finally putting a comfortable distance between you and him. “Don’t remind me. I’ve been telling you that you’re wasting your talents at a place like that.”

Your jaw tightened. There it was, the same old Darren: judgment wrapped in concern, but laced with the unspoken assumption that he knew what was best for you.

You slipped off the bed, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. The cool floor against your bare feet helped ground you.

Unlocking your phone, you typed a message to Nobara, your roommate:

Can you come get me? I’m at my ex’s.

The response came almost instantly:

Girl, r u srs?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you replied:

I’ll explain later, ik, just pls… I wanna gtfo of here.

Sliding the phone into the pocket of your hoodie, you turned back to Darren. He was staring at the ceiling now, one arm slung across his chest, his fingers idly tapping against his bicep. For a moment, you hesitated. The familiarity of this scene—him in his sweatpants, you in one of his old T-shirts—was a cruel reminder of how things used to be. But you weren’t that girl anymore.

“I think I should go,” you said, breaking the silence.

Darren’s head snapped toward you. “No, wait,” he said, sitting up. His hair was tousled, his expression almost pleading. “Please… I really want you to stay.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your distance. “Why?”

“Because…” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know. I thought things were going good between us.”

You blinked, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “Things? Darren, I come here, we have sex, and then I leave. That’s it. That’s all this is.”

“Is that all I am to you?” His voice carried a tinge of desperation, his eyes searching yours.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Or maybe,” you said slowly, “you’re asking if there’s any chance of us getting back together.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard. “Is there?”

You laughed again, colder this time, shaking your head. “No. There isn’t.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was sharp. “That’s not fair. I’ve done so much for you—”

“Done so much?” Your voice rose, and you stepped closer, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t give me shit but dick and attitude, Darren.”

He flinched, but you didn’t stop. “You wanna know what’s not fair? The fact that you went and knocked me up and then forced me to have an abortion. Where the hell were you during that, huh? Seeing as you’ve done so much for me?”

He sat frozen, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes darted toward the floor, guilt pooling in their depths.

“And you wanna know what’s really unfair?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words spilled out like a flood you couldn’t contain. “The fact that you fucking cheated on me when I needed you the most. That’s what’s not fair, Darren.”

Darren stared at you, his face contorted with frustration. “That’s not fucking fair,” he snapped, his voice rising.

“Oh, fuck you, Darren,” you shot back, your hands trembling as you pointed at him. “What else do I have to do to show you I’m done? What else do I have to say?”

“I’m trying!” he yelled, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking trying! But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? You’re so goddamn impossible!”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this trying? You call cheating, lying, and gaslighting me trying?”

“God, you’re such a fucking idiot,” he spat, his words sharp enough to cut. “You act like you’re perfect, like you’ve never made a mistake in your goddamn life.”

“I’m not perfect, Darren,” you hissed, stepping forward, your voice shaking with anger. “But at least I own my shit. At least I don’t treat the people I love like they’re disposable!”

“Oh?” he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “You think you’re so much better than me? You’re the one who keeps coming back. So what does that make you, huh?”

The room was thick with tension, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he muttered under his breath, “Pathetic.”

Your blood boiled. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.

“Fuck you, Darren!” you screamed, shoving him hard against the chest.

His expression darkened. “You don’t get to do that,” he snarled.

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you away. The force of it sent you stumbling back, and you hit the edge of the dresser, pain shooting up your arm as you fell to the floor.

“Wait, I…” His face shifted, panic flickering in his eyes. He took a step toward you, his hand outstretched.

You scrambled to your feet, holding your arm where it throbbed. “You know what? I’m done.” Your voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m done, Darren.”

“Wait—”

“No!” you shouted, cutting him off. “Go fuck yourself!”

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t let us go. We had something special. You know that.”

You stared at him, disbelief flooding your chest. Then you laughed—a cruel, hollow sound. “If you thought this was anything more than sex, then you’re the fucking idiot.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you were already grabbing your stiletto boots from the floor.

“We can make it work,” he said desperately, following you as you stormed out of his apartment.

“Make it work?” you echoed, spinning around to face him as you reached his car. “Make it work?” You hefted one of your boots in your hand. “Make this fucking work!”

Before he could respond, you hurled the boot at his car window. The glass shattered on impact, the sound ringing out like a scream in the still night.

The car alarm blared, its shrill wailing cutting through the silence. Darren stood frozen, his mouth agape.

“Shit,” he muttered, rushing toward the car.

You grabbed your other boot and slung it over your shoulder. “Fix that, asshole!” you yelled as you walked away, the sound of the alarm trailing behind you.

“Her!” Darren called after you, but you didn’t turn around.

You kept walking, the cold air biting at your skin, the adrenaline coursing through you keeping you upright. Your arm throbbed where you’d hit it, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t look back.

You made it about halfway home before the exhaustion hit you like a freight train. Your legs wobbled, and you collapsed onto the curb, cradling your arm as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.

Your phone buzzed weakly in your pocket. Nobara’s name lit up the screen.

“Where the hell are you?” she demanded as you answered, her voice sharp but tinged with worry.

You gave her your location, your words slurred with exhaustion and pain. “I can’t— I just can’t walk anymore.”

“Stay put,” she said firmly. “I’m coming to get you.”

By the time her car pulled up, you were slumped against a lamppost, your eyes half-closed. Nobara jumped out, wrapping her jacket around your shoulders as she helped you to your feet.

“What the hell happened?” she asked, her tone softer now.

You shook your head, too drained to explain. “I’m hungry. I’ll tell you later.”

“Let’s stop and get you something to eat,” She didn’t press further, guiding you into the car. As the city lights blurred past, you stared out the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a bad dream.

The car was warm, the quiet hum of the heater and the golden glow of streetlights spilling through the windshield easing the tension in your chest. You cradled your injured arm as Nobara maneuvered through the drive-thru, shooting you occasional glances.

“You want the usual?” she asked as she pulled up to the intercom.

“Yeah. Large fries, nuggets, and a Coke,” you murmured, leaning your head back against the seat.

She placed the order, and soon you were pulling into a parking spot under the dim glow of the lot’s overhead lights. The smell of greasy goodness filled the car as she handed you the bag, cracking open a box of nuggets for herself.

“So,” she said, dipping a nugget into a cup of barbecue sauce. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened back there, or do I just have to assume you went full-on ‘Carrie’ at prom?”

You snorted, the first genuine laugh you’d had all night. “Something like that.”

“Well, shit.” She popped the nugget into her mouth. “Guess I missed a show.”

You sighed, staring at the fries in your lap. “It’s over. For real this time.”

“Good,” Nobara said firmly. “That guy was a walking red flag.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Speaking of red flags…” You smirked as an idea popped into your head. “You’ll never believe what happened at work today.”

Her eyes narrowed as she dunked another nugget. “Oh, this should be good. Spill.”

You leaned back, a grin playing on your lips. “I got booked for a private room.”

Nobara froze mid-bite. “I thought you didn’t do those?”

“I don’t,” you said, shrugging. “But they offered me a shit ton of money. Guess who it was.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

You couldn’t help but draw it out for dramatic effect. “Your teacher.”

Her jaw dropped, and the nugget in her hand fell back into the box. “No way, Bitch.”

You nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“What did he want? Is he, like, a total pervert or something?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, actually. He just wanted someone to talk to.”

Nobara blinked, clearly baffled. “Huh.”

“I know, right?” you said, grabbing a nugget. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.”

“Damn,” she muttered, chewing thoughtfully. “I never took him as the emotional type.”

“Don’t go telling your friends, though,” you warned, wagging a finger at her. “He told me some pretty heavy shit.”

Nobara tensed, her expression flickering with something you didn’t catch as you reached for your Coke. “Like what?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like hell if I’d tell you.”

“Oh, come on!” she said, pouting dramatically. “I won’t tell anyone!”

You smirked, leaning back in your seat. “I’m not risking it. Client confidentiality or whatever.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she groaned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the car filled with the sound of crinkling wrappers and occasional laughter.

“Hey,” Nobara said suddenly, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “You’re okay, right?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I will be.”

She smiled, a small, genuine one. “Good. ‘Cause if you ever go back to that asshole, I’m slashing his tires.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Deal.”

As you both dug into the last of the nuggets, the weight of the night seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of greasy food and a friend who always had your back.

a/n: and there she is! my first update in like a year lol. lmk what you thought! tell me what you would like to see in the story, who knows, i might be able to incorporate it in! Thank you all for your lovely comments. I loveee reading them.

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. I can't find the artist, but if you know them pls dm for credits!!! please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @ynjimenez , @soraya-daydreams , @nonksity , @hinata7346 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @sad-darksoul , @sasuke-slut , @yuunie135 , @bratkuna , @aydene , @mshope16 , @pretentiousteentrash , @galactict3a , @kokos-property , @moonriseoverkyoto , @lyn-soso , @arilostie , @violetmatcha , @markleeisdabestdrug , @erensdior , @hp-simp505 , @fushiguro-kyuuuuuu , @bontensbabygirl , @switch-godess , @honey-yuh , @ddotsie

wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#my kinda love ʕ•㉨•ʔ #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami angst #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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novascharms · 3 days ago

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teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 1.9 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist a.n — ANOTHER ONE? i feel like dj khaled not gonna lie.

eighteen

friday, february 28th

you were sitting in the nearly deserted common area, the hum of quiet conversation and faint footsteps serving as the only background noise. your laptop was open in front of you, the screen aglow with the fifth slide of the powerpoint presentation you’d been meticulously crafting for the upcoming pta meeting. even though you didn’t have class on friday mornings, you always made your way to school as it was easier to stay focused here, surrounded by the muted energy of the school, than at home.

the quiet was a blessing, giving you the space to concentrate. earlier, rafe had been sitting beside you, devouring a breakfast sandwich while making you laugh between bites. but he’d left for his econ class, leaving you to the silence, though the warmth of his presence still lingered faintly.

you were so engrossed in formatting the slide’s text that the sudden motion of someone sliding into the booth across from you startled you. your eyes snapped up, narrowing at the unexpected intrusion. "topper," you said flatly, blinking in surprise as you instinctively reached for your phone. rafe wasn’t expecting you to text him, but if his best friend was suddenly here, uninvited, it felt worth a heads-up.

"can we talk?" topper’s tone was surprisingly earnest, catching you off guard.

your mind flashed to the biting comments he’d made about you in the past, and the instinctive urge to say no bubbled up. but then you remembered the way rafe had once spoken about topper, calling him a brother, someone who’d been at his side since elementary school. that memory made you pause.

"maybe you should just talk to rafe," you suggested carefully, already closing your laptop. rafe was meeting you here after class anyway; you could just wait for him outside instead of dealing with whatever this was.

but topper leaned forward, stopping you. "i have stuff to say to rafe too, but right now, i want to talk to you. i need to apologize," he said, his voice low and serious. the words were so unexpected that they left you momentarily speechless. you’d been bracing for another snide remark, not this.

"okay," you said slowly, settling back into your seat.

he nodded, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "rafe’s been my best friend for over ten years," he began, his voice carrying the weight of those years. "we’ve been through everything together. and he’s been through a lot. if he’s serious about you—and it seems like he is—then i’m guessing he’s told you about sarah."

you nodded. "yeah, he did."

"the worst of it with sarah was not that long ago," topper continued, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment before meeting yours again. "i won’t get into the details—that’s not my story to tell—but it hit him hard. he went into this… dark place. he felt isolated and abandoned, and he leaned on me. a lot. when i wasn’t there, he’d self-destruct. sometimes it was just picking fights; other times, it was worse. hospital-worse."

his words hung heavy in the air as you fiddled nervously with your fingers. you tried to imagine rafe like that, spiraling and untethered, but it was hard to reconcile with the version of him you knew.

"i got used to the idea that we were kind of… intertwined," topper admitted. "like, if something happened to him, i’d be the first to know. and yeah, maybe we can talk about unhealthy boundaries or whatever, but that’s how it was. so when things got rocky between you and him… and he wouldn’t talk to me about it? it scared the hell out of me." his voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability in his words cutting through your initial wariness. "i was afraid he’d snap, that he’d go back to being that kid who destroyed everything around him because he didn’t know how to deal with his pain and emotions."

your mind raced, trying to process everything he was saying, trying to reconcile this part of rafe’s life with the person you thought you knew so well.

topper seemed to notice the wide-eyed look on your face and softened his tone. "i’m not saying this to make you feel bad, okay? really, i’m not. i just want to explain why i acted like such an asshole to you.” he explains, “when rafe shuts me out, i feel powerless. and when i thought you were hurting him, i went into defense mode. i see now that i was wrong, that you’re good for him. he’s more in control of his emotions, maturing faster than i thought he would. he’s happy, even if he’s still not talking to me. that’s all i want—for him to be happy."

you crossed your arms, nodding slowly as his words settled over you. "this makes a lot more sense now," you admitted quietly, your voice soft but sincere.

topper gave you a sad smile. "yeah, i figured it would."

"and… i appreciate the apology," you added, your lips curving into a small smile.

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "i shouldn’t have acted the way i did. honestly, i drink way too much and should probably be banned from my phone when i do."

you let out a small laugh. "i did say that at the bonfire," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice.

topper’s brows furrowed for a moment before his eyes lit up with recognition. "you did say that shit at the bonfire. damn. you were right." he chuckled, shaking his head. "is it too late for dry january?"

you grinned, leaning back in your seat. "there's a ton of research and discussion that suggests new year's resolutions like dry january, extreme fitness routines, or restrictive diets are not always as beneficial as they may seem. experts even highlight that true freedom lies in understanding that the opportunity for change is not confined to a specific date and the essence of free will is recognising that you can choose to start new on any day of the year. whether that's january first or..i don't know, today. "

topper blinked at you, then smirked. "you’re like a walking wikipedia page."

"i’ll take that as a compliment," you replied, pressing a hand to your heart in mock pride.

"it is a compliment," he assured you. "or at least, i don’t mean it in a bad way."

"that definitely makes up for when you called me a ‘goody-goody prissy bitch,’" you teased, raising a brow.

topper grimaced, his hand flying to his face. "i’m really, really sorry about that," he groaned.

you waved it off with a smile. "all is forgiven."

before topper can respond, he’s yanked to his feet with a force that makes the table tremble. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?" rafe’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and angry, as he stands nose to nose with topper. you scramble up from the booth, heart racing as you reach out to steady the situation. "rafe—" you try to interject, your voice calm but firm, but topper shakes his head at you.

"i’m sorry, okay?" topper blurts out, words tumbling from his mouth like he’s been holding them back for days. "you won’t hear me out, and i know you’re pissed. i deserve it. but i had to apologise and explain myself—to you and her." he glances at you briefly before focusing back on rafe. "you know me, man. you know i only want what’s good for you. don’t sit there and tell me that’s not true."

rafe’s jaw tightens, his piercing gaze darting from topper to you. his voice is curt when he asks, "he said sorry?"

you nod quickly, your eyes searching his for any flicker of calm. "yes. we’re all good. it’s okay."

after a tense pause, rafe finally releases topper with a sharp exhale, though his stance remains rigid. "apologise again," he orders, the edge in his tone leaving no room for argument.

topper’s shoulders slump, but he complies without hesitation, turning back to you. "y/n, i’m really sorry. i was being a dick. you didn’t deserve any of it," he repeats earnestly, his gaze steady despite the awkwardness.

you soften at his sincerity, shaking your head as you murmur, "it’s okay." rafe’s hand slides into yours then, grounding you in the moment.

"and you’ll…" rafe starts, his voice trailing off before a smirk curves his lips. "wash her bike for her."

your head snaps toward him, incredulous. "what?" the word spills from your mouth in disbelief, but rafe doesn’t even glance your way.

you whirl back to topper, shaking your head insistently. "topper, you don’t have to wash my bike. that’s ridiculous—"

"he’ll wash your bike," rafe interrupts, his tone so matter-of-fact it’s almost comical. "he wants to wash your bike. tell her you want to wash her bike."

"rafe," topper groans, dragging a hand over his face, clearly over this already.

before either of you can argue further, rafe’s grip tightens on your hand, and he starts pulling you away. "no, no! okay! fucking hell, i’ll wash the damn bike!" topper calls after you, voice strained with exasperation.

rafe stops, glances over his shoulder, and arches a brow. "yeah? you’ll wash it?"

topper throws his hands up in defeat. "yes. i’ll wash it," he mutters.

you shake your head at rafe, disbelief mixing with fondness. "you’re unbelievable, you know that?" you tell him as he leads you back to the booth.

rafe just smirks, sliding in beside you and tugging you close. topper drops back into the seat across from you, his face a mix of annoyance and resignation. "yes, he knows that," topper says dryly, earning a quiet chuckle from rafe.

"you should be happy about this," rafe quips, leaning back like he’s already won. "didn’t you know cleaning can burn up to 400 calories an hour?"

your heart warms despite yourself, and you glance at him, surprised. "you were listening when i said that?"

he gives you a pointed look, one that’s equal parts teasing and affectionate. "you keep underestimating me. you know that?"

grinning, you nudge him gently. "shame on me," you reply, your voice light with humor as you tuck your laptop into your bag. "i’m gonna go say hi to hazel real quick. i’ll be right back."

you gesture for him to move so you can slide out of the booth, but instead, he loops an arm around you and lifts you over his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you barely manage to stifle a surprised laugh as you land on the other side, shooting him a playful glare before walking away.

as you approach hazel, you’re trying—and failing—to act completely normal, though the light skip in your step probably gives you away. "hiii," you greet her, sliding into the seat across from her.

hazel raises a brow, glancing past you. "heyyy. is that freaking topper sitting with you and rafe?"

you laugh, shaking your head. "yeah. he came to talk to me about ten minutes ago when i was sitting alone. he apologised for everything."

hazel’s jaw drops, her pen frozen mid-air. "that’s… wow. what a turn of events. so, he and rafe are good again?"

you glance over at the two boys, now laughing together like nothing had ever been wrong. "all good. topper’s not as bad as i thought he was."

"who would've thought?"

your chin comes to rest in your palm as you stare at hazel, stupid grin on your face.

"stop smiling so much." she laughs and you can't contain your grin. "why not?" you ask her, "can i not be reallyyy happy?"

hazel hums thoughtfully, turning her attention back to paper. "of course you can. just be careful. but anyway, i was talking to gisele, and we came up with a great idea for the double-booking problem." she dives into an explanation, and you’re quick to join the discussion, feeling an odd sense of peace settle over you.

everything feels like it’s finally clicking into place, like it was always meant to happen this way. and the miraculous part? you get to keep rafe through it all.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

a.n — but do you reallyyyyyyy get to keep him? whooo knows. anyway, chapter 19 tomorrow and chapter 20 sat — epilogue on sundayyyyyy

taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa @fveapplestall @chalametlover444 @slutglimreqpers @uarmyhopeworldwide @junxe3 @bakuhoethotski @wintercrows @kinderwh0r3 @magicalflowerstranger @bigjuli444 @singlethreadofivy @stylestarkey

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emsdevs · 22 hours ago

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I’m a sucker for Angst, so a heaviest of heavy Angst will always do it for me, like I need my insides to feel like it’s being stabbed and overwhelmed with all sort of emotions. Bonus point if it’s long. Hope this isn’t too much to ask for maybe I’m getting too carried away loll Could you do it with Justin Herbert please?

No Strings?

a/n: nonnie you sent this at the perfect time! I've had justin on my schedule for a while, but couldn't figure out what to write for him, so this worked out perfectly! this does not have a happy ending but i might be open to a part two if enough people want it. enjoyyyy :)

masterlist | NFL Masterlists | Justin Herbert Masterlist

You swore you could handle casual. When you started whatever you had going on with Justin, you swore you were the kind of person who could have a casual relationship, but now you aren’t so sure. When Justin asked you out four months ago, you never would’ve expected to be where you are now. It had all been going so well. The dates had been everything you could’ve asked for and more, and Justin was the perfect gentleman. It all began to go downhill after your third date. You had invited Justin into your apartment when he dropped you off, your intentions clear, and he had followed you inside. You two had been sitting on the couch when things began to get serious, the kiss you were sharing heating up.

Justin pulled away, looking slightly guilty. “I feel like I need to be honest with you about something before this goes any further.”

“Um, yeah, okay,” you were a little confused, but you let him speak.

“Look, because of the job I have, I really can’t do anything serious right now. I know I’ve probably led you on a little bit, but I swear I’ve never had any intentions to hurt you,” he stared at you, looking nervous.

“That’s okay!” you speak up too quickly for your liking. “We don’t have to stop unless that’s what you want. I can do casual.” Surely, you could. It couldn’t be that different from a normal relationship.

“You sure? I don’t wanna overstep if casual isn’t something you’re comfortable with.”

“Yeah, of course. No strings attached. Just having fun.”

As Justin leaned back in, you were thinking that this could definitely work. Justin was great, and this would keep him in your life without overstepping any boundaries. You could do casual.

Turns out, you can’t do casual. You’ve been trying to stay normal, but you realized two days ago that you were falling for Justin, hard. You’d been keeping it to yourself, not wanting to scare him away, but it’s getting more and more difficult. He’s just so sweet, and the things he tends to do for you simply cannot be casual.

Is it casual when he plays with the ends of your hair before you get out of bed in the morning? Is it casual for him, even though he keeps all your favorite snacks at his place for when you have movie nights? If it’s casual, why does he keep a drawer free so you have space to keep a few clothes at his place? If it’s casual, why does he know you better than you know yourself? Why has he gotten you your favorite flowers every two weeks since you went on that first date with him? Why does he know “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” is the perfect movie to cheer you up after a long day? If it’s casual for him, why is he acting like he’s in love with you?

Eventually, it had gotten to a point where you couldn’t stand lying to him or yourself anymore. After four months of no strings, you had to talk to him. You finally got the chance one night when he invited you over for a movie night. Before the movie got started, you decided it was time to break the news.

“Justin… I actually think we need to talk,” you wiped your hands on your pants, feeling them already starting to sweat from the nerves.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I just really need to say this, and I know you probably won’t like it, but I need you to listen until I finish,” you pause, waiting for him to nod. “Okay, so, I just feel like we’ve definitely crossed some lines in this arrangement, ya know? Like we both have a drawer at each other’s places. We’re spending the night together, and sometimes, we hang out without even having sex. I just… this isn’t what we originally agreed to,” you were avoiding saying what you were truly feeling.

“So we’ll step back some? I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like something to be worried abou-”

“I caught feelings for you, Justin,” he just stares at you, shocked, “I know we said no feelings, but we’ve just gotten a little too close. We don’t have to stop or anything. I’m a big girl. I can handle-”

“No. No, we should stop,” he cuts you off, and it’s your turn to stare.

“Seriously?”

“We said no strings. I told you I can’t do relationships because of my job. If you have feelings for me, this needs to stop now before it can get worse.”

“Right,” you stood robotically, grabbing your things and walking out of Justin’s house with tears in your eyes. The worst part? He didn’t even try to stop you. Somehow, with one sentence, you ruined something that could’ve been so good for you, that had been so good for you.

Now, it had been three months since that night, and you hadn’t spoken to Justin since. You’ve been going through the motions, just doing a fairly normal routine to make it through your day. You wake up, get dressed, go home, shower, cry while you eat your sorrows away, sleep, and then do it all again the next day. Nothing has felt right since your breakup with Justin, if that’s what you would even call. How can you break up with someone you were never really dating.

You’ve found your confidence to be much lower recently, too. You couldn’t count the amount of time you’ve wondered where you went wrong. Why did you have to tell him? Why would he not even try? Why didn’t he follow you? Today, you found the answer.

You had decided that a day out would do you some good, so since you had the day off, you got dressed and walked around the city. You were about to go into one of your favorite coffee shops, one that you had brought Justin to many times. As you neared the door, you caught a glimpse of something that shattered your heart in a second. There sat Justin across from some girl you’ve never seen, looking too close to just be friends. You watched as she stood, kissing his cheek before she wandered off to the bathroom. A bright smile made its way onto Justin’s face, a smile you had never managed to bring out of him. With your heart broken all over again, you made your way to a close friend’s place. It was closer than yours, and you knew you didn’t want to be alone right now.

He had told you he couldn’t be in a relationship, but what he really meant was that he couldn’t be in a relationship with you. The questions began to set in again. Were you not pretty enough? Not popular enough? Did he need someone in the same tax bracket as him? Did he really just not like you? Did he think you weren’t good enough for him? Was he lying the entire time, every time he told you how special you were to him

Even with all the questions you had, you knew two things for sure. You were done with Justin Herbert, and you definitely could not do casual.

taglist: @heartsforjh @irishmanwhore @heartforherbert @jusaints @one-sweet-gubler

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#em's inbox #em's nonnies #em's writing #justin herbert #justin herbert x reader #los angeles chargers #la chargers #nfl #nfl x reader

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vinnyvin-thevincent · 3 days ago

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I actually love that you're talking about this! Jayce's trauma is very overlooked, especially the long-lasting effects. I wish it was explored more, or that the writers added in a 4th Act to season 2 so that Jayces trauma could be expanded on, as well as his reaction to being around Mel in this new light.

Ultimately, I think he's overlooked BECAUSE people hated him in season 1. I was always an enjoyer and defender of his character and arc, he's actually been my favorite character since season 1 came out, but I think he's been reduced to "Oh traumatized man hot :0" because there's not a lot of critical thought into his story. A lot of people were neutral if not hating him, so people turning it around and saying "he's interesting now" just because he's now suddenly "hot" is the most they're allowing themselves to like him.

The perception of Jayce is that he exists only in reference to Viktor and Mel's plots. "Jayce's time in the cave taught him that he loved Viktor" no, he already did. He put Hextech, his life's work, on the metaphorical backburner FOR Viktor.

His hallucinations of Viktor and Mel didn't seem sweet to me, it didn't seem like a "deciding my boo" moment. He seems sad and angry, and he's realizing that he blames them just as much as he's blaming himself. Though this nuance isn't allowed to see the light of day because "unlikeable pretty boy is now sad and hot" mindset.

It's a shame, honestly. Now I'm not gonna be a hypocrite, I've watched and even made thirst edits of Jayce, back in season 1 and season 2. I personally think men look better with facial hair and beards, so does he look more attractive to me like that? Yes, but that's not the reason I'm obsessed with him. That's not the reason he's my favorite character. His story of building something to better the world, despite how much people wanted to shut it down, he persevered... only for the apocalyptic end of the world to be brought on by his very hands and his very obsession. He is the only one who saw this future, so he must fix it.

It's a tragic story, and one that is very very overlooked because "man look at his boobs" (look, he has a nice rack but be serious).

I dunno, I hope I'm adding good thought here. But his time in the cave/ravine is dehumanizing and breaking. Humans are social pack animals, and isolation is detrimental and can actually cause brain damage. The only reason I genuinely think he was functioning is that he was stuck in survival mode. When he got back to his timeline, he stayed in survival mode. He rushed to the Commune and shot Viktor. He found Caitlyn and hurried to Piltover to prep for the incoming war because he KNEW that wasn't going to be enough. He kept moving, kept moving, kept moving. It was the only way to stop the incoming destruction.

Tldr: You're right, I've noticed this too, and I'm more than HAPPY to discuss and focus on his arc with you

Random Thoughts on the Arcane Fandom about Jayce

this is gonna be a mess but I have nowhere else to talk about this.

I've recently noticed how Jayce Talis has been subjected to all kinds of sexualization since the drop of Act 2 of the second season. People have mentioned many times how trauma has made him "hot". A good and well-known example of this is Danny Motta's reaction to episode 5, where he said, "Holy shit, they made Jayce hot! [...] My dude went from looking like a Muppet to the king of Rohan, and all it took was a little bit of trauma."

This isn't entirely new for him? If people didn't hate Jayce back in S1, they ogled him in the scene where he works on the Forge shirtless, which IS kinda the point because the animators are making him very obviously attractive. But most importantly, he as a character has been reduced to his sexual or romantic relationships since the beginning of time.

It seems that S2 is a response to this in a way. His arc from the ending of S1, where he took responsibility of his actions out of guilt for the child he killed, was slightly set aside for Viktor. Well, ALL of his life, dreams, decisions, everything about him was eclipsed by Viktor's shadow because of the whole "all times, all possibilities" twist. He wasn't expected to show up as a Councilor in any of the meetings, and we must assume he quits at some point, but he surely hasn't resigned from his position by the time Viktor wakes up. Apart from that much needed scene between him and Cait, and the one where he attends the memorial (and is attacked by a vengeful mother), we don't see many of his decisions or what leads him to make them, other than Viktor. This is beautiful in a way because we can SEE how it is a trauma response to losing him. He is obsessive by nature, and he clings to what keeps him and his loved ones safe excessively, but I still had to do a bit of mental gymnastics as to why he went back on the second promise: to not build Hextech weapons again. (Hint: it has to do with the fact that VI saved him with HIS weapon, but it went so fast it's hard to process in the first watch.)

Now back to the sexualization problem. Every time I look up his name and trauma, or PTSD, 95% of the results are thirst edits on Tiktok about how hot he is. No joke. One of the more serious results is my own edit. Of course, a lot of people connect with his suffering without naming it as trauma, and that is great. My concern is that there has been so much focus on Jinx's trauma, Viktor's trauma, even Silco's trauma (which are all valid and fascinating to explore), but there's less attention for other characters who clearly show how their own traumatic experiences has shaped them. Vi, Caitlyn, and Jayce are some of the clearest examples of this, and they've experienced some truly heinous things in the show. Trauma cannot be compared, ever. But why is it that Jayce, who lived through an apocalypse that HE knows HE caused, and lives in complete isolation except the "company" of metal watchers, to the point that he loses touch with reality, and is changed so irrevocably that he loses the naivety and starry-eyed optimism that has always defined him...is seen as hot? And more importantly, why is it that there is very little attention to his experiences on that cave? Every scene between him and Viktor is uploaded in 1080 HD quality, but the scenes of him alone? Fighting to survive? Showing remarkable resilience in the face of his suffering? No, that's not as fun. Not a single one of those scenes is uploaded fully, and I have checked many times. (Some people have actually skipped those scenes to focus on Timebomb. I'm...)

I went online and looked up "why do people sexualize traumatized characters" because let's face it, it's real, it's interesting, and I cannot judge or else I am a hypocrite. Bucky Barnes, Loki, Ellie Williams, Dean Winchester, Vi herself, the list goes on much longer but I can't think of others off the top of my head. We connect with their suffering, and we are pulled by their experiences.

However, Jayce is such a complicated case because he is usually thought of as the greedy himbo that fumbled two baddies, or the confused bisexual, or the guy who lost it because of a situationship (much like Vi, who DID NOT lose it because of a failed romantic endeavor bfr). And then the plot goes and tells us, "Actually, yeah, his life outside of Viktor doesn't matter, he's not even supposed to be alive, because Viktor saved him. All of time is completely inextricable from Viktor." People hate meljay because she manipulated him and "trapped" him in a relationship or something, only to celebrate it when something suspiciously similar happens with the male romantic interest? I initially thought it was beautiful too, bc Soulmates, but man. Mage!Viktor really left the man he loved to rot in complete isolation, eating raw reptiles until throwing up, losing his mind. Say what you want about the allegory for Viktor's life, at least Viktor's isolation was metaphorical up until the Glorious Evolution.

Despite us being shown this, people make thirst edits of him in his black fit, and fighting with sexual tension with Viktor. I fear...that I am the only one who finds this tragic. The man forced to create a larger than life persona to sell his work and be seen as an attractive pawn of the system, has become the attractive pawn of the narrative. Viktor's narrative.

Perhaps Viktor was forgotten by the world. But Jayce's kind heart, and brave soul, were forgotten by us.

Just some thoughts to chew about my favorite character and my wish that more people focused on his arc with me

#jayce talis #jayce season 2 #jayce talis season 2 #arcane #arcane season 2 #vinny rants

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skribbledarker · 11 hours ago

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Back on my bs with another Zosan brainworm…. post Skypiea feels

—

Sanji, after having his “I needed a light” moment and getting shocked head-on by Enel, gains big lichtenberg scars that never fade. They’re darker than his usual skin tone, spiraling down the back of his neck, the entire expanse of his back, then curling around his shoulders and hips.

he hates them. Sanji thinks they make him look diseased, or like Frankenstein, sort of.. He doesn’t think scars are bad or ugly, no. It’s just the way they look on him.

He goes to so many lengths to hide them from the rest of the crew; he takes showers after everyone else is asleep, and his short-sleeved shirts get pushed to the back of the closet.

Chopper’s the only one who’s seen them. well, until Zoro. Somewhere in between when they didn’t like each other and when they suddenly did, the swordsman catches Sanji late at night in the bathroom, shirtless and twisting around himself to look at his back in the mirror.

Somehow, they end up on the floor, Sanji sitting cross-legged on the tile, hunched over with red tipped ears as Zoro sits behind him, taking his time tracing the patterns over Sanj’s skin.

“Do they hurt?” Zoro asks, grazing a calloused thumb over the back of Sanji’s neck.

“Sometimes. they sting when it gets cold.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything for a long time. Sanji feels like a bug under a microscope, just sitting there, being inspected like this. He finds himself zoning out— he doesn’t want to be here right now. This is embarassing.

“I like them.”

“Huh?”

And then Zoro’s hands are smoothing over Sanji’s shoulders, warm and gentle like he’s handling a blade. “What, you don’t? It looks badass.”

no, they really don’t. “No. It looks…stupid.” Ugly, is what Sanji wants to say, but he doesn’t. The word suddenly seems a little too crass for whatever’s going on right now.

“Do mine, then?” Zoro counters, and that’s different. Zoro wears his like a collection, each mark a record of battles he’s won and lost and a testament to the shit he’s survived. Sanji hasn’t ever been blemished like that, barring the faint lines on the bridge of his nose still barely visible after eleven years. The scars just look out of place on him. Like they aren’t supposed to be there.

“No, no.” Sanji shakes his head. “Yours are— are badass.”

Zoro pauses again. “They look like vines.”

“Oh, so i’m sprouting greenery like you, now?”

That gets an exasperated huff out of Zoro, and Sanji can feel breath fanning over the back of his neck. “Stop, ‘m serious.”

It’s frightening, kind of, being laid bare under the watchful eye of someone else like this. Sanji can’t even see Zoro (well, besides his hands), but it’s almost like he can— the weight of his gaze falls heavy on Sanji’s back.

“Of course you are.”

A chill slides up Sanji’s spine when Zoro’s hands slide down to his waist, thumbing at the spots where the scars encroach onto his stomach. “ ‘s Pretty.”

Sanji’s throat suddenly feels dry, because the admission of pretty feels less like a descriptor of the lightning bolts spiraling down his back and more about him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Never thought I’d hear you call something ‘pretty,’ you brute.”

“Maybe you needed to.”

Maybe you needed to. Fuck, Maybe Sanji did.

—

gughhhh this was supposed to be a little drabble but got out of hand so fucking quickly??1!1?1?

anyways i want to shoot both of them dead lololololol

i also love projecting my self-image issues onto Sanji…. my blorbo AHHH

#zosan #black leg sanji #one piece #roronoa zoro #sanzo #fanfic #ao3 #what the hell #idk i love them #skypiea #touch starved sanji ily #they are my therapy #HELPPP #ficlet #i hate gay people

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bomber-grl · 2 days ago

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Percy Jackson x Child of Hera 🦚

Pairing(s): Percy Jackson x Gn!Reader

The first thought Percy has is just trying to figure out how you even came to be. It’s nothing like Athena, where her kids pop out of her head fully formed. No, for you to exist, there has to be a human involved—because, well, it takes two to tango. Plus, Athena’s whole thing is marriage and loyalty, so the idea of a glowing mark appearing above anyone’s head at camp—especially one that’s never appeared before—raises a lot of eyebrows.

Naturally, drama follows. There’s also some confusion among Percy and the other campers. In both Greek Mythology and Percy’s life, Hera has been an antagonistic figure. And he’s not the only one with strong feelings about her. You’re guided to the Big House where Chiron and Mr. D discuss your existence while some nymphs clean out the Hera Cabin. The fact that “Hera Cabin” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue should be proof enough that you probably shouldn’t exist.

Percy and Annabeth are there too and overhear the conversation. After some heated discussions, it’s decided that you’re a demigod (after much deliberation), and since you are, Chiron says you’re welcome at camp. Not everyone’s thrilled about it, though, and even Percy thinks it’s pretty unfair. Sure, your mom is probably the worst godly parent ever, but it’s not like you had any say in that. (Not that any of the other gods are any better, but still.)

Though you’re not exactly being embraced by everyone, some see you as a bit of a curiosity. Hera doesn’t have any powers that stand out, so no one knows what to expect from her potential demigod kids. Safe to say, you become a bit of a project and gain some attention—not always the good kind—and you’re quickly becoming well-known for not being too different from your mom in some aspects.

During a Capture the Flag game, your powers first show themselves. You’re ganged up on by a group of Ares kids, who Percy knows to be pretty close to each other. He figures you’re in serious trouble since – much like his first time participating in Capture the Flag, he wasn’t really mentally prepared– but then something weird happens. One Ares kid randomly notices the sibling on her right is wearing her favorite anklet—totally out of nowhere—and then, they both blow up in each other’s faces. The third one tries to break it up, but instead, they all turn on each other, leaving you the perfect opportunity to sneak away.

This keeps happening, and after a while, Percy finally starts to put two and two together. Annabeth, of course, is impressed by how long it took him to figure it out, and Grover had picked up on it a while ago. Turns out, you have the ability to influence people’s relationships, pulling out little resentments and using them to your advantage. You don’t just break up friendships—you mess with their bonds to get the upper hand.

Percy’s always liked his powers, but after watching you, he can’t help but sort of be jealous of yours. Then, realized this implied he wanted to be Hera's spawn ( not that being a big fat target of a Poseidon kid for monsters was any better.)

Soon, more powers started to emerge, and it was almost like waiting each Wednesday for an episode of your favorite show to air. First, there’s healing—or maybe protection? It’s hard to tell. Both? It happens during a training duel when you and a close demigod friend are sparring against another duo. Percy’s time at camp was always spent rushing around, but this time, he actually stopped to watch. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that you’re getting totally wrecked—like, it’s not even fun to watch anymore. Your ally’s shield disappears when one of the enemies strikes, and a sword is about to make contact with your friend. Quite literally almost drawing blood. Time seems to slow, but then he and likely the rest of the onlookers are pulled out of the trance. There you are, your wounds healing at an incredible rate, and even your friend’s injuries are disappearing too. The most impressive part? There’s an invisible barrier stopping the sword from going any further. You were kneeling in front of your somewhat fallen friend, shielding them from your opponent while drawing strength from it (rather your bond)

It ended in a draw, which Percy thought was total buttcheek. He doesn’t really care about it at the time, though. That opinion doesn’t become important until much later—when you two are already dating. I know, a big leap, but stick with me. It wasn’t long after the day you completely owned those arrogant Ares kids—fair and square—that they started scheming for revenge. They always did.

It’s late in the afternoon at Camp Half-Blood, the kind of quiet time when most campers are either training or lounging around the mess hall. Percy’s leaning against a tree, thinking of a way to tell Sally about what he’s been up to without worrying her out. He’s been on edge all day. The rumors about you—the one with the strange powers—have been flying around camp like wildfire. Some are saying you’ve got the ability to manipulate emotions, others think you can control the weather. Either way, no one knows exactly what you’re capable of, and that makes people uncomfortable.

Suddenly, the camp’s usual peace is interrupted by the sound of shouting—definitely not a good kind of shouting. Percy glances up and sees a group of Ares kids marching toward the training field, and standing in the middle of the group is you. You’re being dragged along, and your usual expression—slightly aloof, like you’re just there to observe—has been replaced with a look of annoyance.

Percy doesn’t have to guess what’s going on. The Ares kids have probably targeted you again, just like they did during Capture the Flag. He can already hear their more than lacking insults, Each one less cutting than the last. They don’t know how to deal with the idea of a demigod child of Hera showing up and making waves. Honestly, they’d probably prefer you were just a myth. Especially after you kicked their asses.

Without thinking, Percy jogs over to where the group is gathering. His first instinct is to stop the bullying, but as he gets closer, he sees something that gives him pause: you’re not fighting back, but you’re not backing down either. Instead, your eyes are focused on the ground as the Ares kids get closer, like you’re silently waiting for something.

Percy slows his pace as he gets within earshot. He’s not sure what’s going on, but he can tell something’s about to happen. It’s when one of the Ares kids, who Percy knows can be particularly nasty—steps too close to you, then it happens. Without warning, the person stops mid-sentence, his face a mix of confusion and... fear?

The others don’t notice at first, but Percy sees it clearly— his grip on his spear loosens, and he stumbles back, like he’s been punched in the gut. Then another Ares kid, this time a girl named, turns on her heel and starts yelling at him, her voice rising in anger. One by one, they start turning on each other, their camaraderie unraveling as small but vicious arguments break out among them.

It’s like they’ve all been possessed by their worst insecurities, and Percy can’t help but realize—this is what you can do. You’re pulling on the threads of their relationships, turning them against each other without even lifting a finger.

Before it gets too out of hand, Percy steps forward, his voice a little louder than usual. “Hey!” he calls out, making the group freeze. They turn to him, a mix of annoyance and confusion on their faces, but Percy ignores them and looks directly at you. “What’s going on here?”

You glance at him, your expression unreadable, but there’s a slight quirk on your lips. “You don’t know?” you say, almost too casually for the situation. “I just helped them... work out their issues.”

Percy raises an eyebrow, not sure if he should be impressed or worried. “That’s one way to do it, I guess.”

The Ares kids, now looking like they’ve completely lost their unity, begin to scatter. Percy watches them go, then turns his attention back to you. “You know,” he says, taking a few steps closer, “that was pretty impressive. And a little terrifying.”

You shrug, your nonchalance making Percy feel both confused and intrigued. “It’s not like I asked for it,” you reply. “It just... happens.”

He studies you for a moment. “Again?” He can’t help but grin slightly. “Can’t say I didn't see that coming.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes sharper than he expected. “Neither did I.”

Percy didn’t stick around camp as often as he could have, but every time he did, the two of you grew closer. Honestly, it got to the point where you both developed feelings for each other. It was a little weird for Percy to think of Hera as a mother-in-law, and on the flip side, you were more than happy to have Sally as yours. You two got along really well, and like Percy, she never held anything against you just because of who your mom is—or how, you know, terrible Hera can be. Percy was honestly just relieved that two of his favorite people got along so well.

But, on the other end? Well, that was a whole mess. Pardon my language, but it was absolute dog shit. While you were still figuring out how to balance your relationship with Percy, Hera kept a very watchful eye on you. There’s a definite possibility that she doesn't approve of him. Not to rule out her approving of him and giving you her support—though if that’s the case, it definitely creeps Percy out. It makes him question whether there’s something he’s missing or if she’s just being her usual irritating self.

And speaking of, Percy can’t believe he ever thought you might be like Hera, just because you were a little manipulative at times. I mean, really—it was just your power. It had nothing to do with your actual personality. And when the truth about how you came to be finally came to light? It was a major turning point. Likely figured out with a –one long and exhausting quest that helped you two get closer than ever– later.

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hyperions-light · 18 hours ago

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@uchidachi requested I do this one, and now that the activity around it has calmed down a bit, I thought it’d be fun!

I’ve briefly considered this topic before, but thinking about it for longer I’m pretty sure that if Lucanis or Neve brought this up (lbr here, it’d be Lucanis) it would start a fight lol

Marriage sounds like it involves a whole bunch of things Leth doesn’t like such as

-rules

-legal proceedings

-interacting with authority figures

-politics

However, they do love parties and wearing fancy clothes, so it has that going for it.

Putting the rest under the cut, bc long lol

But I think ultimately the idea would kind of freak them out, because then like… what about Teia and Viago? They have a weird situationship going on that they don’t want to give up or have to think too hard about, and marriage might complicate it. Being freaked out would immediately cause them to start an argument, and then they’d probably run away and hide for some amount of time. (Leth’s instincts always say: fight until you can run, run until you can hide)

If they were eventually convinced (hard but not impossible) it would have to be a wedding where all three of them get married, because they'd think it was unfair, otherwise.

And then probably Lucanis would regret his decision because it would turn into the biggest, most elaborate party in the history of Treviso. Leth has never even met half of the people who show up. Teia is over the moon because any wild, extravagant thing she suggests Leth will enthusiastically cosign. Everyone is invited. EVERYONE. It should be a huge security risk because so many Talons (and the Black Divine and the Archon) are in the same place at once but everyone is so heavily armed it would be suicide to attack them. They probably ask Solas if he and Lavellan want to stop holding the sky together briefly so they can come too. Yes, the necromancers can bring the Necropolis skeletons. Of course Vorgoth is invited! Tell uncle Eldrin to bring the griffons!

Probably the only thing that Leth would actually debate with Teia about is clothes. They don't want to wear a dress (they aren't as good at stabbing people in them. What if they have to stab someone?), they want NEVE to wear a dress. There is a LOT of debating back and forth about color schemes and fabrics and tailoring. I think it's like Divine Conclave level serious; Teia and Leth are locked in a room for a week and everyone else goes in and out periodically looking utterly exhausted. They figure it out eventually, though. They find the right shades of purple and turquoise so that everything looks cohesive.

I think the biggest Issue with the wedding is probably politics. There's the Crow house alliance to worry about, which Viago would get huffy over, and there's Caterina. Viago is very convinced that if Leth is around Caterina for any substantive period of time, they are going to annoy her into killing them, so he's spent a lot of time impressing on them that they should stay tf away from her. But she's going to be their grandmother-in-law now! There's probably a lot of traditions to fulfill, like formal meetings and interviews and evaluations and dinners which will stress Lucanis out! Leth endures it with uncomfortable bemusement. They only irritate Caterina a moderate amount-- she definitely whacks them with that cane at least once. It's fine, though! Leth likes grumpy people and is good at dodging.

I think the celebration is like... Carnival or Mardi Gras, essentially. It lasts a week, no one leaves when they're supposed to, everyone is horribly inebriated. They need healers because the Lords of Fortune tried to play their drinking game in the canals and got sick immediately. People show up late; they go and come back and somehow the party is still happening. Lucanis, Neve and Viago definitely tap out at some point-- meanwhile, Teia, Illario, Isabela, and Leth are having an amazing time! It's sort of also a party to celebrate the apocalypse being averted?

I think Taash would make it through the whole time, Davrin would last a while but he has to do Griffon Wrangling eventually. Emmrich is out after like day two. Manfred would stay the whole time. Bel would have fun but I think she would get burned out on it eventually. I think all the faction leaders show at some point, but they also either 1) have stuff to do 2) do NOT want to spend a week in the middle of this chaos, so I think probably by the end it's just Teia and Isabela left.

Leth brings some of Harding's fade plants to decorate the venue and hand-delivers an invitation to Harding's mom. They order a barrel of that nasty shit they serve in the Hanged Man, and pour one out for Varric-- maybe Bianca sneaks in there at some point. There's probably a dramatic reading of Varric's least favorite book, just so Leth can annoy him in the afterlife.

I think it ends up sort of cathartic for everyone? Like, the wedding is why they come, but everyone needs to unwind from all the terrible shit that happened.

I think the actually romantic part is probably after, during the honeymoon. They just go somewhere quiet and isolated where Leth can make sure their two workaholic partners do absolutely nothing productive for two uninterrupted weeks. Treviso and Docktown will be okay without them, for a minute-- Viago and Elek promised.

Also after that Leth is bringing Lucanis and Neve to meet their clan, because they don't live with them anymore, but that doesn't mean they aren't important. Maybe the quiet, sincere version of the ceremony happens there, with nobody else around? And Leth is bullying them into matching tattoos, which they will do themself.

Hey, hope you all had a good weekend! Unfortunately, it’s Monday =/ Fortunately, it’s time for Rook Intro Hour! 🍀🌺🌼🌸

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): Does your Rook want to get married to their LI(s)? Do they care about where? Is there a specific tradition/traditions they want to follow, when they do? Who would they invite? What would they wear?

Have fun & thanks for sharing!

#dragon age #veilguard #rook #lucanis dellamorte #neve gallus #neve/rook/lucanis #long post #VERY long post #weddings #the rook introduction hour #Lethanavir de Riva

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sunbl3achedfly · 2 days ago

Text

Do the dead comfort you? Pt.2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer does all he can to save you from the hands of a psychotic unsub, and he makes a promise to remain by your side in the aftermath of the ordeal.

Content: Dead bodies once again, (tw) torture, stalking, breakdowns, hospital visits, blood, (tw) sexual assault, trauma, Spencer to the rescue & being a tad protective of the pretty girl he only met once before, the reader realizes she can't use her morbid sense of humor to cope with everything, hurt/comfort I guess?

Author's note: Here’s part two!!! I was listening to Ethel's new album while writing this and holy moly I was in the zone and wrote most of it in one go. (Pulldrone is exactly what was playing when I wrote the scenes while she was kidnapped and I feel like the eery ambiance encapsulates the utter sense of dread and despair that hits the reader once she realizes how serious the situation is). Hope you all enjoy <33

Let me know if you guys want a part 3!!

5,331 words (it’s a long one aha)

part one

masterlist

When you finally managed to open your eyes again, a sharp, dull pain radiated through your skull. The harsh fluorescent lights above didn't help as they glared down at you. At least you weren't on the floor. Nope, just restrained to an ice-cold metal slab. Fancy that. This must be how all my patients feel before I embalm them.

You attempted to look around the room but the bright lights from above prevented you from doing so. As you regained consciousness, you began to realize that both your wrists and ankles were restrained to the embalming table. And you were only in your underwear. The panic had begun to set in and you tugged at the restraints, but to no avail, they wouldn’t budge.

"Struggling won't help", a voice echoed through the room, "I made sure of that."

Your head snapped to the right as you took in the man who now began leaning over you. At first, he didn't even look real. He stood over you, bathed in the cold, sterile glow of the morgue’s overhead lights, his figure stretched and distorted by your disoriented mind. A nightmare stitched together from shadows and flesh, from surgical steel and the sickly scent of embalming fluid. His eyes—God, his eyes—weren’t just looking at you; they were studying you, cataloging every inch of your body as if you were a specimen he was about to dissect.

On any normal day, his face may have been forgettable, the kind you’d pass on the street without a second thought. But at this moment, in this place, it was the only thing in the world. The sharp angles of his cheekbones cast deep, skeletal hollows in his skin, making him look half-dead, like something that had crawled out of the very slabs you worked on everyday. His mouth curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite a sneer—just wrong, like he wasn’t used to making expressions that mimicked human emotion.

Then came his voice, it slithered into your ears, so sickly sweet that it made you nauseous, "You’re quite the fighter, aren’t you? But they all stop fighting eventually.”

You tried your best to focus on anything else at that moment, the details of everything else but him. The thin, latex gloves that he wore, they were stretched way too tight across his knuckles. The way his coat —a pristine white lab coat, because of course it was—fluttered slightly as he moved, the motion strangely elegant. You could smell him too. He smelled clean, too clean, like antiseptic and soap, but underneath that all was something rotten, something decayed. Maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe it wasn’t.

As he began mulling over which embalming tool to pick up first, his fingers hovering over them as if one of them was beckoning to be chosen, you realized just how exposed you were. For the first time since waking up, at the mercy of this thing, wearing a man's skin—you started to believe you might actually die here.

The sound of splintering wood as the mortuary door crashed open was deafening. You flinched violently, your body instinctively pulling against the straps that pinned you to the cold metal table. Relief and terror fought for dominance in your chest.

They’re here. Oh God, they’re finally here.

But then, just when you had begun to relax for the first time in hours, you felt the scalpal press harder against your neck. The tip of it broke through skin, not deep, but enough to make your breath catch.

"Don’t move,” the unsub growled under his breath. His voice was sharp, his calm façade cracking under the pressure. You could feel the tremor in his hands now, the desperation radiating off him.

Your pulse thundered, the pain from the cut on your arm flaring as you tried to keep still. The various cuts and injuries that littered your body were nothing compared to the fear the tiny blade at your neck instilled in you. You bit down on your lip to stop it from trembling. Don’t panic. Don’t make this worse. They’re here. They’ll get me out of this. Please let them get me out of this.

"FBI! Drop the weapon!" A commanding voice filled the room.

"Come any closer and I slit her throat!" The man bellowed. Up until this point he had not raised his voice once, and the sheer volume caused you to flinch again, the scalpal breaking through more skin. You could feel a warm liquid trail over your collarbone.

Your eyes darted to the doorway, tears stinging as you caught sight of the dark vests, the guns, the agents—saviors. But the unsub only pressed closer, his body partially shielding you. The scalpel was an unrelenting threat, cold and unmoving against your skin. The sharp sting at your neck anchored you to the moment. A hot tear slipped down your temple. I’m going to die here.

From Spencer's position in the doorway, his sharp eyes took everything in. The unsub’s trembling hands, the scalpel pressed against your throat, your bloodied arm, and—God—your state of undress. His chest clenched painfully, guilt and anger battling inside him. He only hoped the unsub hadn’t gotten too far before they arrived.

She’s absolutely terrified. One wrong move and she’s dead. Come on Spencer, think!

His jaw tightened as he saw the unsub’s gaze flick toward him, possessive and unhinged. Spencer’s hands twitched, his instinct to charge forward barely restrained. Stay calm. She needs you to stay calm.

"You don’t want to do this,” he finally said, his voice softer than usual. He took a slow step forward, keeping his hands visible. Carefully, he raised them, shifting the gun away from the man. He was acutely aware of the five other guns trained on him, ready to fire if he made a wrong move, which was why he was willing to take the risk. “This doesn’t have to end badly. Let her go, and we can talk this through."

There was a slight pause in the unsub's movements.

“You’re in control right now,” Spencer continued, his tone gentle, almost soothing. “But if you hurt her, that control is gone. You don’t want that. You don’t want to make this worse.”

Spencer’s gaze flicked to yours, meeting your tear-filled eyes. You looked at him like he was your only lifeline. The desperation in your expression hit him like a punch to the gut. The only thought running through his mind like a mantra was that he needed to get her out of there, fast.

The tension in the room was suffocating, each second seemed to stretch on for eternity. Then, the unsub shifted slightly, but it was enough for Derek Morgan to lunge forward like a strike of lightning.

The scalpel hit the floor with a sharp clang as Hotch slammed into the unsub, yanking him away from the table. Chaos exploded around you—shouts, the scuffle of bodies struggling—but it barely registered. Your chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, your throat raw as you fought for breath, tears blurring your vision.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, undoing the restraints that held you down, while simultaneously giving you a once-over to take in any serious injuries he may need to keep in mind for the first responders.

You were in such a state that you barely registered whose hands were touching you and your heart rate immediately spiked. Your eyes were shut and you began thrashing on the table whilst whimpering loudly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s over,” Spencer’s voice broke through the haze.

You blinked, realizing he was kneeling beside you, his hands moving to undo the straps that held you down. You flinched as his fingers brushed your wrist, a sob escaping your throat before you could stop it.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “He can't hurt you anymore. I promise.”

As the final strap came loose, you tried to sit up, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your legs felt weak, your hands trembling so badly you couldn’t push yourself upright.

“Here—let me help you.” Spencer’s hands were gentle as he guided you into a sitting position, his movements careful, almost hesitant.

The moment you were upright, you instinctively reached for him, clutching his shirt as your body shook with silent sobs.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you. His vest felt stiff under your cheek, but his touch was warm, steadying. “You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe now.”

You couldn’t stop crying, the reality of everything crashing over you. His hand rested lightly on the back of your head, the other drawing soothing circles on your back.

Spencer’s heart twisted at how small you felt in his arms, how vulnerable. Gone was the sarcastic, spunky girl who had left such a strong impression on him after just one meeting. He held you tighter, his own breath uneven as he fought to keep his emotions in check. She’s okay. She’s okay now. But she’s so scared. I need her to know she’s safe.

When you finally managed to speak, your voice was barely a whisper. “He almost…” Yet another sob prevented you from continuing.

Spencer shook his head, cutting you off gently. “But he didn’t. He didn’t, okay? You’re here. You’re safe.”

You buried your face in his chest again, your fingers clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And in that moment, he didn’t care about protocol or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was comforting the girl with the shattered spirit in his arms.

The sharp, sterile scent of the hospital was the first to hit you as the nurse wheeled you through the emergency room doors. The fluorescent lights felt too bright, their clinical glow exposing every bruise, every scrape, and every jagged line of your vulnerability. They reminded you of the lights in the embalming room. The embalming room. That man. The tools piercing your skin.

You were vaguely aware of Spencer at your side, walking just close enough that his hand occasionally brushed against the armrest of the wheelchair. You wanted to tell him you were fine, that he didn’t have to stay, but every time you opened your mouth to speak, the words got stuck in your throat. You didn't want to do this alone.

The nurse guided you into a small room, where a doctor was already waiting. Spencer stopped just outside the doorway, shifting awkwardly, his hands buried in his pockets.

“We’ll take it from here,” the nurse said gently, giving him a polite but firm smile.

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting between you and the nurse. You could see the conflict on his face, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for an argument.

You managed to find your voice, though it came out weaker than you intended. “Spencer…”

His gaze snapped to yours expectantly, his features softening.

“Can you… stay?” The words were barely a whisper, but the way his expression shifted—relief, determination, and something almost protective flashing across his face—made you feel a little steadier.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, stepping into the room. He pulled up a chair near the bed, sitting close but giving you enough space not to feel overwhelmed.

The doctor began her examination, her voice calm and clinical as she asked you questions. “Any dizziness? Nausea? Are you in pain anywhere besides your arm?”

You answered automatically, your voice hollow as your mind wandered. The doctor’s questions blurred together with the sting of antiseptic on your wounds, and the rustle of the hospital gown you’d been asked to change into felt deafening in the quiet.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub’s hands on you, the way his gaze had stripped you of every ounce of dignity. The memory was suffocating, curling around your chest like a vice.

Spencer’s voice cut through the fog, grounding you. “Hey,” he uttered softly, his brow furrowed with concern. “You okay?”

You blinked, realizing the doctor had finished and was watching you with the same concerned expression.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

Spencer didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he waited until the doctor left the room before leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied you.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up again, "You're not fine."

You looked down at your hands, the hospital gown feeling too thin, too revealing, despite being more covered than you were earlier. You didn't know how to respond.

Spencer hesitated, noticing the sudden vulnerability in your expression. “I uh... I need to ask you a few questions… about what happened. It’s just procedure—to make sure this guy gets what he deserves. We don't have to do it now, but I'm here when you're ready.”

The sincerity in his tone made something in you crack. You weren’t ready to talk, not yet, but the way he said it—as if there was no question that he would be there for as long as you needed—made you feel a little less alone.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said quietly, though the thought of him leaving made your stomach twist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly. “Not until you’re ready for me to, at least.”

You glanced up at him, expecting to see pity in his eyes, but all you saw was quiet determination. It made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

You took a shaky breath, your hands clenching into fists as you tried to steady yourself. “Ask the questions,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm with determination.

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t have to right now. We can wait until you’re ready. You don’t have to rush through it.”

But you shook your head, a flicker of something fierce in your eyes. “No… I want to do this now. If I don’t… I won’t ever.” The words tasted bitter in your mouth, but you pressed on, your heart pounding as the weight of what you were about to do sank in. “I need to nail this bastard. For me, for them… for everyone he’s hurt.”

Spencer remained quiet for a moment, watching you carefully, weighing your words. Finally, he nodded, his expression unreadable but softening with understanding. “Alright..." he hesitated, "This is going to sound silly, but can you close your eyes for me and tell me... what he did to you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the request. For a moment, you didn’t know how to react. But the quiet, sincere way he asked you made something inside you settle, just a little. The room felt quieter now, the world shrinking down to just the two of you.

Closing your eyes, you tried to push the memories to the surface, to bring them into focus. Your heart beat faster, but you steeled yourself, knowing this was the only way to make him pay.

"When I woke up from being knocked out… I was tied down to the embalming table in my underwear, the straps were tight," you began slowly, rubbing your wrists absentmindedly. The sensation of the straps still lingered, and it made your skin crawl. "I couldn’t move."

Spencer stayed silent, his gaze never leaving you, his presence grounding you even as the weight of the memories pressed in. "Take your time," he said quietly, voice gentle but firm.

You took a shaky breath, nodding, trying to find the strength to continue. "He... he just stood there for a while, watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, like... he was enjoying it." You paused, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. "I couldn’t even scream. I just had to wait for him to decide what he wanted to do next."

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his mind was piecing it together, filling in the gaps even if you didn’t want him to. But he said nothing, giving you the space to speak. You appreciated that more than you could express.

There was no avoiding it. You had to talk about it. You had to say the words, had to help the FBI put together the full picture. You took a slow breath, trying to keep your voice steady.

“He—he used different embalming tools.”

Spencer looked up sharply, he noticed the pained expression on your face and realised just how hard this was going to be for you.

Your heart started to pound. As soon as you said it, the memories came rushing back.

The metal table was freezing against your bare skin, your body trembling with something beyond the cold. You pulled at your restraints, but they were too tight, digging into your wrists and ankles.

“I’ve always been fascinated by preservation,” the unsub mused, his fingers trailing over a set of gleaming instruments. “The way death can be… delayed. How a body can be made beautiful again.”

You didn’t say anything. Your throat was raw from screaming earlier, and you were running out of ways to keep yourself from panicking.

The unsub turned, holding up an embalming trocar—long, sharp, and glinting under the fluorescent light. “Did you know this is used to remove fluids and gases from a body before preservation?” He traced the tip lightly down your abdomen, not pressing hard enough to break skin. “It’s important to prepare the body properly.”

Your breathing hitched, and you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself not to react.

His expression darkened. “You’re supposed to be still,” he murmured, and without warning, he pressed down.

Pain flared white-hot in your side as the tip of the tool pricked your skin, just enough to draw blood. You gasped, your body instinctively jerking against the restraints.

The unsub sighed, shaking his head. “Messy,” he muttered, wiping the small bead of blood with his gloved hand. “I’ll have to try again.”

You inhaled sharply, coming back to yourself. The hospital bed, the warmth of the blanket, the steady presence of Spencer beside you—it was enough to pull you out of the memory, but your skin still burned where the tool had touched you.

Spencer’s knuckles were white where he gripped his knees. His breathing was slow, controlled, but his eyes—his eyes were burning with something deep and unsettled.

“He used a trocar,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “He—he didn’t go deep, but he wanted to see me flinch.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he was trying to will away the image forming in his mind. “And the other injuries?” he asked, his voice strained.

You swallowed. “A needle. He… he injected something into my leg. Some kind of preservative, I think. It burned.”

Another flash—

The burn spread up your thigh, a fire beneath your skin. You cried out, muscles seizing, your entire body locking up.

The unsub tilted his head, watching with interest. “Formaldehyde is quite versatile,” he said conversationally. “It won’t kill you. Not yet. But I wonder how much your body can handle before it starts shutting down?”

You bit down on your lip, hard enough to taste blood.

You took a slow, shaky breath, forcing yourself back into the present. The hospital bed. The warmth of the blanket. The steady presence of Spencer beside you.

Spencer’s hands had curled into fists. His jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitching.

“What else?” he asked, voice strained.

You hesitated again. “He used the embalming pump.”

Spencer’s breath audibly caught in his throat.

The hum of the embalming machine filled the room, a steady, mechanical noise that only added to the horror of the moment.

You were still strapped down, too weak to fight, but your breath was coming in panicked gasps as the unsub adjusted the tube connected to the pump.

“This is a test,” he murmured, almost absently. “A small amount, just to see how the body reacts.”

You barely processed his words before you felt the cool sensation of liquid seeping into your veins.

Your vision blurred for a moment. It wasn’t enough to kill you—not yet. But it left you dizzy, sluggish, your limbs feeling even heavier than before.

“Fascinating,” the unsub muttered to himself. “I wonder how much you can take.”

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "The last thing he did... he told me exactly what he was going to do to me. Everything he'd done to his other victims—every single cut, every injection, every—"

Your breath hitched, your throat closing around the words.

"But I—I was going to be his favorite," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Because I had spunk. Because I fought back."

A shudder ran through you, your entire body recoiling from the memory. You couldn't say the rest. You didn't need to say the rest. The way his voice had darkened, the way he'd described it, savoring every detail like a promise—

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that could block it out.

Spencer's hand closed over yours, grounding you. His grip was firm, steady, as if willing you to feel something other than that sickening sense of violation crawling under your skin.

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice low but unwavering.

You shook your head, your breathing uneven. “But you need to know—”

“I do know,” Spencer cut in, his voice sharp but gentle. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with something unreadable—but underneath it, there was a quiet, unshakable promise. “You’ve given us enough.” He exhaled, slow and controlled, but his next words carried the full weight of his conviction.

“He’s never going to hurt anyone ever again. I swear to you—I’ll make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his life.”

A sob caught in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t ready to cry—not yet. But for the first time since it happened, you felt the faintest flicker of relief.

Spencer wasn’t just listening. He was hearing you. And he was going to make sure you got justice.

You weren’t alone in this.

And for now, that was enough.

As the night wore on, the hours began to blur together. You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep that night, and as guilty as it made you feel, Spencer didn't seem to mind. Throughout the night, nurses came and went, checking your vitals, re-bandaging your arm, and murmuring reassurances that didn’t quite reach you. And through it all, Spencer stayed.

The hospital room had settled into an almost eerie calm. Machines beeped softly in the background, and the dim lighting made everything feel slower as if the world outside had paused. You were sitting up in the hospital bed, the scratchy blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. Spencer sat in the chair beside you, his legs crossed, thumbing through a book he’d found somewhere in the waiting area at a speed you didn't think was humanly possible.

The silence was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. The FBI agent that had first pushed the unsub away from you in the embalming room stepped inside. At first, his presence intimidated you, his muscular frame and broad shoulders made him an imposing figure, but there was an undeniable warmth in his deep brown eyes. His smooth, dark skin contrasted with the sharp angles of his jawline, and a hint of stubble shadowed his face. He was holding two cups of hospital jello, one red, the other green.

“Thought you two could use a little pick-me-up,” He said, holding the cups aloft with a charming smile. “It’s not gourmet, but it’s better than nothing.”

You managed to return a weak smile back, taking the red jello as he handed it to you. Spencer set his book aside and accepted the green one without hesitation.

“Thanks, Morgan,” Spencer said.

Morgan gave you both a once-over, his gaze softening when it landed on you. “If you need anything, just holler. But I’ll give you two some space.” He gave Spencer a pointed look as if to silently remind him to keep an eye on you, then slipped out of the room.

You began poking at the jello with the plastic spoon. The silence stretched between you and Spencer, not uncomfortable, just heavy with unspoken things.

"You know", you said finally, your voice a little raspy, “jello might be the most depressing food ever invented.”

Spencer glanced up from his cup, his lips quirking in a faint smile. There she is. “It does have a strange texture. Did you know it’s made from gelatin, which comes from—”

“Animal bones,” you finished for him, giving him a sidelong look. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

He blinked, a little surprised, then nodded. “Right. I guess... you would know that.”

You smirked faintly, the smallest flicker of your usual sarcasm peeking through. “What can I say? I'm full of fun facts. Comes with the job, really.”

Spencer tilted his head, studying you once again. "Your job... I can't imagine it's easy," he said carefully, his voice gentle.

You hesitated, your spoon hovering just above the jello. For a brief moment, you considered brushing him off with a joke or changing the subject like you usually would. But when you met his gaze, there was something about the way he was looking at you. God, stop looking at me like that. His unwavering, earnest stare made you feel safe enough to answer honestly.

“It isn't most of the time” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But it’s worth it.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he kept his gaze on you, his expression soft yet intent—like he was trying to unravel everything you weren’t saying. His eyes, sharp with quiet intelligence, searched yours as if they could decode the weight you carried, the thoughts you never voiced, the depth you kept hidden from the world.

There was something about you that fascinated him—not just your words, but the silences between them, the guarded way you spoke about things that mattered. He could tell there was so much more beneath the surface, layers of emotion and experience you refused to share. And yet, just for a moment, it felt like he could see them anyway.

He finally spoke, "Why?"

You sighed, setting the jello cup on the bedside table. “Because… when I embalm and prepare a body, when I make someone look like the person they were before…” You paused, swallowing hard. “I get to give their family one last chance to say a proper goodbye. One last moment where they can see the person they loved, not the person the world left behind.”

Spencer kept his gaze steady as he took in your words. He could tell how much those words meant to you. Surprisingly, his expression held a little bit of understanding and even awe.

"That's... incredible." he said finally, "I had never thought of it that way."

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, well… not everyone thinks it's incredible. Most people just think it’s creepy."

Spencer’s lips quirked into the smallest smile. "I mean, technically, you do spend a lot of time with dead bodies."

You gave him a pointed look. "And you spend a lot of time profiling serial killers, but you don’t see me calling you creepy."

Spencer tilted his head, considering that for a moment. "Fair point."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the heaviness of the conversation lifting just a little.

Before the conversation could continue you blurted out, "Thank you."

Spencer glanced at you, “For what?”

“For staying,” you said simply.

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I couldn’t leave,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Not when you…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands. “I just couldn’t.”

You nodded, understanding more than words could convey. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel completely alone.

As you leaned back against the pillows, your eyes growing heavy, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were going to be okay.

After your third day in the hospital, you were finally discharged. The hospital doors slid open with a quiet hiss, letting in a crisp evening breeze. You inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with fresh air—something that didn’t reek of antiseptic or overcooked hospital food. The gauze beneath your shirt still tugged slightly with each breath, but the soreness was manageable.

Freedom. Finally.

Beside you, Spencer hovered with the same quiet intensity he’d had when you arrived at the hospital, arms crossed like he wasn’t entirely convinced letting you leave was a good idea.

“You know, I appreciate the escort,” you said, adjusting the strap of your bag over your good shoulder, “but unless you’re planning on kidnapping me back to my hospital bed, I think I can manage from here.”

Spencer blinked. “I just— I wanted to make sure you got out okay.”

You smirked. “What, did you think I’d trip over my own feet and fall into traffic?”

“I— statistically, you’re not at full mobility, and with your pain medication, your reflexes might be slightly impaired—”

You rolled your eyes. “Spencer, I’m not going to faceplant into the street.” Then, after a beat: “At least, not immediately.”

The corners of his lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile but failing miserably.

The silence stretched for a moment. For all his intelligence, Spencer still looked like he wanted to say something but hadn’t quite figured out the words. His hands twitched at his sides, like he was debating reaching out.

You tilted your head at him. “You okay there, Doc?”

He cleared his throat, straightening. “I just— I hope you know that you, um… don’t have to go through this alone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I was alone in the embalming room with a serial killer, so technically—”

Spencer shot you a look.

You snorted. “Okay, okay, I get it. Not the time."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just meant… I know how trauma can make people isolate themselves, and I just wanted you to know that you have people who care.”

You nodded slowly. There was a warmth in your chest at the sincerity in his voice—softer, earnest.

“Well, in that case,” you said, shifting your weight to your good side, “since you care so much, would you... wanna get dinner sometime?”

Spencer’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, you know. The thing where people sit at a table, order food, and consume it?” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, unless you don’t want to—”

“No! I mean— I do! I just—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking both overwhelmed and adorable in a way that made you bite back a grin.

You decided to put him out of his misery. “Spencer," your voice softened, "I’m trying to ask you on a date.”

He froze.

“Oh.”

You smirked. “Yeah. Oh.”

Spencer’s brain seemed to reboot in real time. “I—yes! Yes, I would like that.”

Your smirk softened into something more genuine. “Good. You can pick the place.”

He nodded, still looking slightly dazed. “Right. I, um, I’ll text you.”

You chuckled, stepping back toward the curb where your ride was waiting. “See you soon, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer stood there as you got into the car, still blinking, like he was trying to process what had just happened.

As you pulled away, you saw him through the rearview mirror—standing there, hand running through his hair, a small, boyish smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in a long time, despite everything that had happened, something felt right.

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